Roberta: Bride of Wisconsin (American Mail-Order Bride 30) (4 page)

Bobbie had walked everywhere in Lawrence, not having the luxury of a buggy. "Sure. Is it far?"

He shook his head. "It will only take you ten minutes to get there. Pick what you want, and tell them to put it on my account. I'll settle with the owner at the end of the month. It's always been our arrangement, because Erna didn't feel safe carrying money."

Bobbie frowned. "Is Superior dangerous?"

"Oh, no. She was just a nervous woman about some things. So I did what I could to make her feel better."

"All right. Do you want to give me a budget?"

"A budget? For what?"

"For the groceries. Is there an amount you don't want me to go over?" Bobbie had lived on a budget for so long, she couldn't imagine there was anyone who didn't have one.

"No. Just get what you need. Even if you want to get some things to start on Christmas presents, add them to the account. It's not a problem." Jakob realized then that she had no idea just how wealthy he was, and he liked it that way. He was one of the richest men in the city, because of his lumber business, but there was no reason for her to know that. She needed to think he was a hard working man like any other. And really? He was.

"All right." Bobbie didn't like the idea of not knowing what she could spend, but she was frugal enough that she wouldn't go crazy with it.

He drew her the map before he got up from the table. She noticed that Lukas put his plate in the sink without being told.

She immediately washed the dishes, hating to walk into a house and see them not finished. She would catch up on the laundry that day and clean the parlor. She wanted to get all the bedding washed as well which would be a big job. She had to get the house in order before she could start on Christmas presents or any kind of mending though. She couldn't live in the filth they'd gotten used to.

Before the boys left for school, the dishes were done and put up, she'd stripped all of the beds and had the first load of laundry hanging on the line.

As soon as the three of them were off for the day, she went to the store, following the map carefully.

The first person she saw when she walked into the general store was Bertha from the train. "Oh, it's good to see a friendly face," Bobbie said with a smile. "I was beginning to feel like it would never happen."

Bertha grinned. "It's not easy to meet a man and marry him on the same day. I worried when you said you were marrying Jakob. He's a good man, but he was very much in love with his wife."

"I see that. And he thinks anything she said where the boys are concerned is gospel truth. No opinions of mine ever could or would matter. It makes it hard." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them, but it was hard not to speak her mind.

"I can see that!" Bertha said. "You like the house, though?"

"Oh, the house will be beautiful once I scrape off the three feet of filth." Bobbie covered her mouth with her hand. "Pretend I didn't say that please."

Bertha just chortled. "Oh, we're going to be good friends, Roberta. I can see it already."

"If we're going to be good friends, you have to call me Bobbie. That's what all my good friends call me."

"All right, Bobbie." Bertha looked around her. "What are you shopping for?"

"Food. We need flour and sugar and baking goods. The house is well-stocked on meat and vegetables, but nothing for bread or desserts. I'm not the best cook in the world, but I can make a decent cake, and I adore pies and cookies. Why, I'll cook those all day if someone will let me."

"Well, let's get you stocked up then." Bertha looked over at the owner of the store. "Mr. Jensen? My new friend Bobbie is going to need her purchases delivered to Jakob Muller's house. She's his new wife."

Mr. Jensen nodded. "Oh yes. He stopped by on his way to the lumber camp this morning and said I was to give you whatever you needed on his account. Just put it on the counter here, and I'll be sure it's delivered within the hour."

"Thank you," Bobbie said, surprised she was getting such good treatment. If she'd wanted something delivered at home, it would take a few days for the owner to actually get it to her apartment. She'd learned quickly to carry everything herself. She chose what she needed from the shelves and set it on the counter, choosing a few spices that she wouldn't normally buy because of the price, but nothing extravagant. When she was done, she chose a few skeins of yarn, thinking she'd make the boys some mittens and scarves for Christmas.

"Is that all you need, Mrs. Muller?" Mr. Jensen asked in surprise. "Your husband won't mind if you buy more."

"We have plenty at home. I just needed a few things to go with what was already there to complete some meals."

Bertha looked over Bobbie's shoulder at her purchases. "Your husband isn't a pauper, Bobbie. If you need more, you should buy it. It's not a problem."

Bobbie looked at what she considered a huge pile of goods. "No, I really picked out everything I need."

Mr. Jensen nodded, handing her a piece of paper to sign. She gulped when she saw the amount was more than a week of her wages at the factory. Things were a great deal more expensive here.

Once she'd signed, Mr. Jensen said, "I'll have everything there very quickly. You just go home and wait." He smiled at her. "I look forward to doing business with you."

Bertha looked at Bobbie. "Would you care to have lunch with me before you go home?"

"Oh no," Bobbie replied. "I've barely started on my housework for the day. Maybe in a week or two when I'm all caught up on everything."

Bertha nodded, looking like she wanted to say something, but she didn't.

Bobbie hurried home, getting the clothes from the washer and carrying them out back to hang on the line. All day she worked on laundry and baking. She made three fresh loaves of bread, thankful to be able to afford that much flour at a time. She had a lonely lunch consisting of just a cheese sandwich, but the bread was so fresh, it was a pleasure to eat. She took out the butter churn and sat out back and spent an hour churning butter, her arms aching by the time it was ready.

When the boys got home from school, she had a snack of milk and cookies waiting for them at the table. The parlor was clean, and all the beds had been made properly with clean sheets and quilts. She was proud of the day she'd put in. That evening after she finished the supper dishes, she'd be able to sit in the parlor and knit for a while, not worrying about doing more chores. That sounded like a pleasant pastime to her. It wasn't so long ago that she would get home with just enough time to eat something either she or one of her three roommates made, and then they would all fall into bed exhausted, knowing they had to start early the following morning to do it all again.

Why, this seemed like a life of luxury to her. Obviously no one was in a huge hurry for her to get the house clean to her standards, because they'd lived in filth for some time. She would take an evening to just knit. It would be lovely.

Once they had finished their cookies, the boys ran upstairs, leaving their plates and glasses on the table. She started to clear them off, but decided she must start as she meant to continue. "Boys, come down here please!" she called.

Both boys came downstairs. "Yes, Frog-
mutter
?" Lukas asked.

She ignored the name he'd called her. "You both need to put your dishes in the sink like I asked this morning, or I won't make more snacks for you while you're in school. You'll have to wait until supper to eat."

Konrad sighed and picked up his plate and glass, setting them in the sink. "Is that all?"

"For now, yes. Thank you!"

Lukas did the same as his brother. "Anything else, Frog-
mutter
?"

"No, that will do for now." She let the boy go back up the stairs, and she washed the few dishes in her sink. She wanted the parlor and kitchen to be spotless when Jakob got home from work.

Jakob had a particularly hard day at the lumber camp, and he didn't want to talk to anyone when he got home. He walked in the door, hung up his coat and hat, and looked around the parlor. Where were the curtains? Erna had made those curtains, and they were gone. "Bobbie!" he bellowed, waiting until she'd come in from the kitchen, a frown on her face. "Where are the curtains?"

"They were filthy, so I took them down and..."

"Took them down! Erna made them!" He couldn't believe she would make such a big change to his home without even asking him. It was not acceptable.

"They're on the line out back. I'll put them back up before supper when they're dry." Bobbie glared at him. Why would he immediately accuse her of doing something wrong instead of waiting to hear her entire explanation?

"Oh. Fine. Make sure you do." He stomped out of the room and to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Bobbie stood there for a moment, wondering if it was worth it to confront him about his bad behavior, or if she should let it go. She remembered what she'd told herself moments before. She had to begin as she meant to continue.

Instead of ignoring his behavior, she went to his bedroom, and knocked on the door.

"What?"

"I need to talk to you." She folded her arms across her chest, waiting for him to emerge.

"Then come in and talk to me." He had no desire to talk to anyone at that moment. He just wanted to be left alone. When the door opened, he glared at her. "What do you want?" He was lying on his back, his hands folded behind his head.

He hadn't even had the decency to remove his work boots, and she'd spent all day washing the bedding in that house. She didn't think before she acted, she just swatted his feet. "Get your muddy boots off that quilt. I spent the whole day washing the bedding and everything else in this house. You will respect the work I've done."

He sat up, his eyes sparkling with anger. "Is that so?"

"Yes, it is so! I work just as hard as you do, and if you'd open your eyes for a moment, you'd notice. You may have buried your heart in your wife's grave with her, but you didn't bury your eyeballs! You have no right to come home from work and start yelling at me for doing the job you expect me to do. My purpose in being here is to make your life and your boys' lives more comfortable. That means cooking and cleaning. I've done nothing but cook and clean since I got off that train yesterday, and you will never again yell at me for cleaning something. Do I make myself clear?"

He stood up, towering over her and taking a step forward so she had to crank her neck back to look at him. "You don't have the right to speak to me that way, little missy."

"You don't have the right to call me little missy! I worked too hard, on filth that was here before I ever heard of you and your boys, for you to get nasty with me. You cannot yell at me for doing what you expect me to do. I will not tolerate it."

He put his hand on her shoulder, not certain if he wanted to beat her or kiss her. He couldn't beat her. He didn't have it in him to hit a woman, so he did the next best thing. His hand curled around the back of her neck and he pulled her toward him, his lips crushing down on hers.

Bobbie fought him for all of a second, before she realized she liked his lips on hers. She melted against him, opening her mouth to his insistent tongue. Moving her arms up, she wrapped them around his shoulders and clung to him.

A startled cry and the word, "
Vater
!" came from the doorway, and they broke apart in time to see Lukas running off toward the stairs.

Jakob stared at her for a moment, not sure what to do.

"Go after him. Make sure he knows you were angry and never meant for this to happen. We'll talk after supper." Bobbie left the room, wiping her hands on her apron. Had she really just responded to a kiss he meant to punish her? What was wrong with her?

She went back to the potatoes she'd been peeling before he'd yelled at her, her mind more on the kiss than on the tuber. Why had he done that? He'd been strange yesterday, but yelling at her for taking down curtains? That seemed extreme even for him.

She put the potatoes on to boil and went out back, removing the curtains and the rest of the clothes from the line. She'd washed all of the nightshirts, wondering if they'd ever been washed. They smelled so badly, she was surprised they hadn't gotten up and walked away on their own.

All three of them needed to learn how to act around women. She was just the woman to teach them. She'd use a rock to pound it into their heads if she had to. There may be no other way with those three.

After supper, Bobbie got her new yarn and her knitting needles, and went into the parlor where Jakob was sitting.

"Dishes done?" he asked.

She nodded. "Done and put away. We need to talk."

He nodded. "I didn't mean to kiss you earlier."

Blushing, she said, "I know that. I knew it when you did it. My question is, why were you so angry about the curtains?"

He closed his eyes, not certain he wanted to tell her the whole story, but realizing she deserved it now. "Do you know how Erna died?"

She shook her head, looking down at her knitting, hoping it would help him to be able to talk if they weren't looking at one another.

"She came to visit me at work, and she walked a little ways out onto the lake, where it was frozen. The ice cracked, and she fell through. We all tried to get her out, but we couldn't.

"One of my men got too close to the lake today, and he fell in. It's not cold enough to freeze him yet, but it's still plenty cold. We were able to get him out, but it was close for a minute there. The currents on the lake are strong, and they were starting to pull him under. My brother jumped in and got him out."

"Is your brother all right?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, he was upset, because he was on his way to meet someone important, but he's fine."

"Good." She frowned. "I'm not sure why that made you angry with me though."

"All day Erna's death was weighing heavy on my heart, and I got home, and you'd removed something she did shortly after we moved into this house five years ago. She was so proud of the house, and she spent hours on those curtains, wanting them to be just so." He shrugged. "I was worried you were trying to remove things that remind me of her, and I was angry."

"Next time give me the benefit of the doubt, please. I won't deliberately change anything that matters to you. Ask me about it nicely instead of yelling at me. I don't do well with getting yelled at." Her father, and later her boss, Bob at the factory, had both been people who shouted at her. After the factory burned she promised herself she would never allow someone to yell at her again.

"I will try. I
am
sorry I was rude to you. It was unacceptable, but hopefully not unforgivable."

"Not unforgivable." She sighed. "About the kiss
—
"

He cut her off before she said more. "The kiss wasn't mean to happen. I'm very sorry that it did."

She sighed. "It was my first kiss." She hadn't meant to say it, but it was true. Her first kiss had been given in anger, and her husband said it hadn't been meant to happen. Why had she enjoyed it?

He frowned. "Your first kiss shouldn't have been like that." He closed his eyes for a moment, knowing it was a mistake, but needing to change her impression of kissing. She was sitting on the couch, and he was sitting in a chair perpendicular to her. He got up and moved beside her on the couch.

"This will mean nothing, but I can't have you thinking all kisses are like the one in my bedroom." He knew it was a mistake, but he couldn't stop himself. She was so pretty, and she was kind. He couldn't let her take that memory of kissing to bed that night.

He took the skein of yarn and crochet needle from her lap, setting them both on the coffee table in front of the couch. Cupping her face in his hands, he looked down into her brown eyes. Brown eyes were such a strange combination with blond hair, but he liked it. Too much.

"This is how a first kiss should be." He slowly lowered his head, his lips brushing hers lightly before sinking into the kiss. His fingers played along her neck, and he traced her mouth lightly with his tongue, waiting for her to spread her lips so he could gain entrance.

One hand drifted from her cheek, to her shoulder, and down to her elbow. He didn't move his hand anywhere else, although he wanted nothing more than to cup her breast in his hand.

Slowly, he lifted his head, and looked down at her. Her lips were moist and slightly parted, her eyes closed. She was beautiful. Truly, she was much prettier than Erna had ever been. As soon as he thought that, he stood up abruptly. "I believe that's enough to show you how a first kiss should be."

He moved back to the chair he'd vacated and picked up a book, opening it. It was one of his favorites, and one of the few German books they had lying around the house. He didn't see it. He stared down at it blindly, thinking only about how she'd looked after his kiss.

Roberta sat still for a moment, wondering why he'd gone so quickly, but she knew. Deep down, she knew perfectly. He didn't want to have feelings for her. Erna was his true love, and he refused to ever feel anything for her. She'd doomed herself to a loveless marriage, tying her life to this man's forever. She only hoped she could keep her heart encased in ice as his obviously was.