Robin Lee Hatcher - [Coming to America 02] (23 page)

Martha looked at her uncle, and he nodded. Then she did as her cousin requested.

Watching them, unease settled firmly around Dirk’s heart.

Over a supper Allison Trent insisted on preparing, she and her husband entertained the family with stories of their travels in Europe and England, as well as Allison’s tales of escapades with Margaret when she was a girl. Little by little, the children warmed to their newfound cousins. In truth, there seemed no reason not to like both Allison and Harvey. They were friendly and good-humored, and they seemed genuinely interested in everything about the girls. Still, Dirk was bothered by their visit and knew he wouldn’t rest easy until they were gone.

The feeling stayed with him throughout that evening and the following day as he observed Martha and Suzanne showing the Trents their room and their toys, the swing and their favorite animals. The feeling dogged his heels while he went about his work. It lingered no matter what he did to dispel it.

When he went to the parsonage to see Inga two days after the Trents’ arrival, he tried talking to her about Margaret’s cousin, tried sorting out the reasons for his feelings. At one time, Inga would have been able to reassure him. At one time, she would have given him sage advice. But now she merely listened with a distant look in her eyes and said nothing in return. He wondered if she even heard him. She seemed to be drifting farther away from him, away from reality. She was getting worse since coming to the parsonage. Worse instead of better, and there seemed to be nothing he could do to stop her.

Dirk returned to the farm, his heart heavy with worry for Inga, the Trents almost forgotten.

It was a delightful evening, nearly two weeks after the Trents had first arrived at the Bridger farm. It was the kind of evening when the air was rich with the fragrance of spring. After the children were in bed, the adults sat in companionable silence on the porch, watching the sunset, Harvey smoking his pipe and Allison sipping tea.

Dirk was thinking about Inga, eager to visit her again the next morning. Yesterday she’d looked at him, and he’d felt like she’d actually seen him. Really seen him for the first time in weeks. It had given him hope, something to hang onto. He missed her. He loved her. He wanted her home.

Allison broke the silence. “It is tragic, the loss of a child.”

Dirk was jerked abruptly from his thoughts.

“It is something a mother never forgets.”

He didn’t bother to answer. He hadn’t discussed Inga or her illness with the Trents in all the time they’d been at the farm. He didn’t intend to now.

“Astrid told us about her sister,” Allison explained.

Dirk wished Astrid hadn’t said anything, but he wasn’t sure why. He’d stopped feeling uncomfortable with the Trents more than a week ago. He’d actually been enjoying their visit. The only thing that would have made it more enjoyable was if Inga had been there, too.

“Harvey and I had a little girl of our own,” Allison continued, her voice soft. “She was born in Austria. Her name was Lisette.” She looked up at the sky. “She died before her first birthday. It was pneumonia that took her from us. I wanted to die myself. So you see, I do understand.”

Dirk thought about saying he was sorry, but before he could do so, Allison changed the subject.

“Margaret always talked about her brother-in-law, the adventurer. She told us about all the places you planned to explore in your travels. It must have been difficult for you, returning here to raise Martha and Suzanne with only your mother’s help. It must not have seemed very exciting.”

He shrugged, feeling that odd uneasiness returning.

Allison glanced at her husband.

“Dirk,” Harvey said, “my wife and I have been talking things over and we think we could be of service to you.” He sounded every bit the diplomat.

“Of service?” Dirk questioned.

“Yes. You see, the Trent family home near Philadelphia is large and has been empty for too many years. It is a perfect place for children.”

He frowned. “I suppose you mean Martha and Suzanne.”

“We know John and Margaret intended for their daughters to remain here with you and your mother.” Harvey looked at Allison. “But now that Hattie is dead and your wife is ill—”

“The girls aren’t goin’ anywhere.” Dirk rose from his chair, glowering for emphasis.

Harvey stood, too. “Hear me out.” When Dirk said nothing, he continued, “I inherited a great deal of wealth from my father, and I’ve done well in my own career. We’d like to share our good fortune. It seems we shall have no more children of our own, but we would love Margaret and John’s daughters like they were ours. We can give Martha and Suzanne a life few others enjoy. They would travel. They would go to the best schools. They would wear the finest clothes and know the best people. They would never know want of any kind.”

Allison touched Dirk’s arm. “You have been a wonderful uncle to them, Mr. Bridger, and it’s clear they adore you. But we would love them, too.”

“I’m sure you would love ’em,” Dirk began, trying to keep his voice calm, “but this is their home. This is where John and Margaret wanted them to be.”

Harvey stroked his chin thoughtfully. “There is more we are prepared to offer.”

“Whatever it is won’t change my mind.”

“We would like to underwrite your expeditions.”

“My expeditions?” His gaze moved from Harvey to Allison and back again.

“That’s right. We’ll provide whatever funds you need, for as long as you need. Enough for you and your wife. You’ll be able to pursue the adventures you always wanted. Go around the world. Visit exotic places.”

Dirk shook his head, disbelieving what he heard.

“And,” Harvey went on, “if your wife’s health does not allow her to accompany you, we will see she receives the best specialized medical care money can provide.”

Allison rose from her chair. “At least think about it, Mr. Bridger.” She looked at her husband. “I believe it is time we retired for the night.”

“Do give it some thought,” Harvey said. Then he took Allison’s arm and the two of them went inside, leaving Dirk alone on the porch.

Oh, he would think about their incredible offer, all right. He’d think about it and little else.

K
arl slept with his head resting against the wall of the passenger car. Fatigue etched his youthful face. Thea felt a twinge of guilt, although she refused to recognize why she would feel that way.

She was seated across from Karl, watching him as he slept and wondering what the future held in store. Even more, she wondered what she felt for Karl, the boy who had made her laugh, the young man who had introduced her to the pleasure of his kisses.

What had happened to those feelings? She was confused so much of the time. Nothing had gone as she’d imagined it would.

With a sigh, she turned her gaze out the window at the darkness.

They were going home. At last. They would arrive in Des Moines before dawn, and they should reach Uppsala before lunch. It would be good to be home. Karl had resisted for a while, but in the end, he had given in to her—as she’d been certain he would. She knew he loved her. Karl had always tried to give her whatever she wanted. She knew he wanted her to be happy. And she
would
be happy, once things were as they used to be.

Except—she was beginning to realize—things would never again be as they used to be. She was going home with a husband. She was a married woman now. When her sisters saw her, they wouldn’t look at her the same way they had before. Neither would her parents. Her pappa would give her that stern look of his. His gaze would be filled with disappointment but with love, too. Mamma would cry, of that Thea could be certain, but they would be tears of joy for a daughter returned. And tears of joy for her new son-in-law, too. Thea’s parents would welcome Karl into the family, into their home. They would forgive the young couple for eloping, but things still wouldn’t be the same as before.

Thea leaned her forehead against the window. What had happened to all those romantic notions of hers? Why hadn’t any of them come true?

You’re acting like a child!
Karl had actually yelled those words at her last week. Then he’d told her it was time she grew up and thought of someone besides herself.

She looked at him again, wanting to summon the outrage she’d felt at the time. Karl was only a year older. What gave him the right to talk to her like that? He wasn’t her pappa!

She shivered involuntarily. Pappa would always love her, no matter what she did. But what about Karl? What if he stopped loving her? What if she
had
been acting like a child?

She closed her eyes, refusing to consider her own questions. She wasn’t ready to look for the answers.

It was like emerging from a fog. Inga had been lost in a thick white cloud of confusion. But slowly it began to lift, and today she knew she would find her way out, once and for all. The world around her was returning to normal. The heaviness on her heart had lightened.

Inga had begun to hope again.

She was seated in her bedroom. Early morning sunlight spilled through the east window. In her hands was the first panel of a new quilt, the one she already thought of as her love story quilt. She vaguely remembered the last quilt she’d made, the red one that had represented so much sorrow and uncertainty, but that was a thing of the past. This quilt would represent her future. It would tell their story, hers and Dirk’s. It would tell a story of a young woman who had thought herself unlovable and the man who had proven her wrong. A new quilt made from patterns of love.

She was ready to go home. She had been at the parsonage for less than two weeks, but suddenly it seemed an eternity. Today she would ask Dirk to take her home.

She smiled sadly, remembering she’d used those same words to ask Dirk to bring her to the parsonage. But home wasn’t here. Home was with her husband.

A soft rap sounded at her door.

“Come in,” she replied.

The door opened. “Good,” her mamma said as she stepped into the room. “You are awake. Dirk is here.”

Her heart skipped. “So early?” He came to see her every other day, always in the afternoons. Perhaps he’d guessed she wanted to go home. She set aside her sewing and rose from the chair. “Tell him I will come down straight away.” She smiled. “I want to freshen up.”

Bernadotte returned her smile. “He’s in the parlor. Come down when you are ready.” Then she backed out of the room, closing the door after her.

Inga hurried to the dressing table. She sat on the stool and looked at her reflection. Her stomach felt as if it were filled with butterflies.

She began to brush her hair. Then her hand stilled as she made another discovery. She wasn’t afraid.

She stared harder at her reflection. She looked much the same. Perhaps a little thinner, but basically the same. Yet she didn’t feel plain and ordinary. Dirk had told her she was pretty. She had thought he was being kind, but today she believed him.

She didn’t know or understand what had brought about this change. She only knew it had happened.

By the grace of God,
Pappa would have said if she asked him.

She smiled.
“Ja.
By your grace, Father.” She was going home. She was going home with the man who loved her. She dropped the hairbrush, rose from the dressing stool, and hurried from her bedroom, down the stairs, and into the parlor.

Dirk turned from the window when she entered. He was holding his hat in one hand. His dark hair was mussed and badly in need of trimming.

I must cut it when we get home,
she thought.

“Morning, Inga.”

There was so much she wanted to tell him, but suddenly she felt as shy as a new bride.
“Goddag,
Dirk.”

“Your ma tells me you’re feeling better.”

“Ja.”

“You’re looking better, too. More like yourself.”

Her heart skipped again. “Shall we sit down?” She motioned toward the sofa.

“The girls’re hoping to see you again soon,” he said after he’d followed her suggestion.

“I miss them.” She’d missed
him
as well. “You are here early.”

“Yeah. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.” He gave her a half smile and shook his head. “Wait until I tell you what happened last night.”

She watched him, waiting as he’d instructed, but all the while she was thinking how very much she loved his face, his long straight nose, the strong cut of his jaw, the crinkles near the corners of his mouth and eyes.

“Margaret’s cousin, the Trents…They had a surprise for me.”

“A surprise?”

He chuckled. “Well, I guess maybe that’s what folks call an understatement. Last night, the Trents told me they had this big house, and they wanted to take the girls to live with them in Philadelphia. Wanted to give them fancy schooling and take them to Europe and such.”

Her eyes widened. A chill raced through her. She must have heard him wrong. “Take the girls?”

Again he shook his head in a gesture of disbelief. “That’s not all. They offered to underwrite my expeditions. That’s how Harvey Trent worded it. He promised to underwrite my expeditions around the world. Can you believe it?”

The butterflies in her stomach turned to stones. “They would do such a thing?” she asked softly. “Pay for you to go around the world?”

“Yeah, apparently they would.”

Perhaps it was for the best she’d never told him she loved him. Perhaps it would make it easier to let him go. “When?” Her chest felt as if it had been crushed. She could scarcely breathe.

He met her gaze. “When what?”

“When will you go?”

He laughed, a short sound of surprise. “Go? I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“But this is your chance, Dirk. Your dreams. All your plans. You have waited so long for them to come true. If you do not take it, the opportunity may never come again.”

His gaze was harsh, the set of his jaw determined. There was no sign of laughter or surprise in his expression. “No, I don’t reckon it will. But I’m still not goin’.”

She looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap. “You hate the farm.”

“Doggone it, Inga!”

Her gaze shot to his face. He’d never before sounded so angry when speaking to her.

Dirk got to his feet, then glared down at her. “I told you none of that mattered anymore.”

She rose, too. “I said I would let you go when the time came. How can I hold you to me when I promised you I would not?” The question came out in a whisper.

“Things were different then.
I
was different.
You
were different.” He took hold of her upper arms, his grip firm, unyielding. “I promised before God and man I’d love and keep you, and that’s what I intend to do.”

She wanted to hold him to the promise, too. But what if he should regret it later? Old fears, old insecurities, resurfaced to taunt her. How could she hold him to her when he was being offered the chance of a lifetime? She would be thinking only of herself, of her own wants and desires. If she held him to his promise, he would eventually resent her. Hadn’t this been the bargain they had made? When it was time for him to go, she would release him?

“Are they good people?” she asked. “Would they love the children?”

“You’re not even listenin’ to me, are you?”

“I do not want to stand in your way,” she whispered.

“Well, aren’t you the noble one.” Sarcasm dripped from every syllable. He slapped his hat onto his head. Then he leaned down, bringing his face close to hers. “I’ve been plenty
patient, Inga. You were sick, not just your body but in your heart. I could see that, and I brought you here ’cause it seemed like that was the only way you were gonna get better. Well, you’re better now. I can see it in your eyes.” He drew back. “Now you’re just actin’ plain…plain stubborn.”

He spun around and strode to the parlor doorway. Reaching it, he stopped abruptly, stood perfectly still for a breathless moment. Then he turned slowly to face her again. His dark gaze seemed to bore straight into her soul.

“You do yourself some thinkin’ about what it is you really want, Inga Bridger. I’ll give you a day to do it in. I’ll be back in the morning.”

A moment later, the front door of the parsonage slammed behind him as he left.

Before he was a mile down the road, Dirk began to regret yelling at Inga the way he had. But hang it all! He’d been walking on eggshells for weeks now. He’d despaired as he’d watched Inga shrivel behind sorrow and uncertainty. He knew she’d been hurt by the loss of their baby. He knew it wasn’t easy, accepting that she’d never have children of her own. But he loved her and he hoped she loved him. They had Martha and Suzanne. They had a place to call their own. Maybe life wasn’t easy. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but it was a good life, all the same.

He hadn’t been wrong to yell at her. She was being stubborn and foolish. Hadn’t he told her he loved her? Hadn’t he already told her she was what he wanted, her and the girls?

What about what Inga wants?

The thought gave him a moment’s pause. Maybe she really didn’t want to come back to the farm. Maybe she was using the Trents’ offer as a convenient excuse.

But then he remembered the look in her eyes when she’d entered the pastor’s front parlor. No, he refused to believe his wife didn’t love him, and he was willing to do whatever he had to do to make her see it for herself.

Because the idea of a life without Inga was too awful to contemplate.

“Git up there!” he shouted at the team, slapping the reins. “We got us a long way to go today.”

After Dirk left, Inga sank down on the sofa. She hugged herself, feeling chilled. For a long while, she stared at the cold hearth, her mind blank. Then the conversation began to replay itself in her head.

Well, aren’t you the noble one.

She hadn’t meant it to be a noble gesture. She’d sincerely wanted to give him what he’d always longed for. This was his chance. Probably his last chance.

You do yourself some thinkin’ about what it is you really want, Inga Bridger. I’ll give you a day to do it in. I’ll be back in the morning.

She wanted him, but…

“Oh, my dear Lord!” her mother cried from the hallway. “Olaf, it is Thea and Karl! Thea!”

The entire household erupted with surprise and joy. Inga’s younger sisters came running—Gunda on her crutches—from other points in the house. Their pappa emerged from his study; judging by his expression, all would be forgiven.

The prodigal daughter had come home.

There was hugging and kissing and crying and much confusion. And it wasn’t until later—too much later, perhaps—that Inga realized Astrid was also there to participate in the family celebration.

Bernadotte soon went to work, preparing a feast to celebrate her daughter’s return, while Olaf shut himself up in his study with his new son-in-law. Thea took the opportunity to draw her older sister outside where they could be alone.

“It is hard to believe all that’s happened while I was away,” she said to Inga as the two young women strolled beside a brook running behind the church and down toward the school. Songbirds serenaded them from spring green treetops. “You and Gunda…It is so tragic.”

“Gunda is recovering beyond anyone’s expectations,” Inga said. “And I am well now, too.”

Briefly, Thea wondered if Inga’s last statement was true. Then she discarded the thought. It was Thea herself who needed attention. “Vilhelm always flirted with me, even when I told him I had given my heart to Karl. It is so sad. I will never see him again.”

Inga said nothing.

They walked in silence for several more minutes. Thea had the feeling her sister’s thoughts were far away, and it made her angry. Inga didn’t seem to care that she was miserable and confused. Irritably, she snapped, “I wish you had warned me what marriage was really and truly like.”

Inga looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” She kept her gaze locked on the path before her, feeling waspish.

Again Inga was silent.

“Oh, Inga, it isn’t what I expected. Karl had no money to speak of when he got to America. We were married by a justice of the peace, and then we had to rent the most awful apartment. It was small and smelled bad. And the noise. There was always so much noise. Babies crying and husbands and wives fighting. Karl had to work all the time for the most pitiful
wages. I hardly ever saw him, and he always came home from work so tired. We never had any fun. I thought marriage would be fun. He never brought me any presents or flowers or…or anything!”