Lyn Cote Page 21

  Martin and Ophelia walked Ellen outside. “You must have faith,” Ophelia murmured close to Ellen’s ear. “William will not be taken from you. That woman will have no proof. She didn’t even give us her name. That’s telling.”

  Ellen didn’t say what she was thinking, which was that many in the community still would pressure her to give up William if it came down to it. But she found, as Martin helped her up onto the two-wheeled cart, that the sinking feeling dragging her down was not about the stranger who was lying about William.

  Kurt, why have you turned away from me? This is more than Randolph’s interference. It must be.

  Then Martin leaned forward and said to Ellen, “I think you will be as happy as we are to have the river freeze.”

  Ophelia turned to her husband. “What do you mean, Martin?”

  “Before he left, Randolph stopped by to have a few words with Kurt.”

  “You didn’t tell me that,” Ophelia protested. She looked to Ellen, and Ellen nodded, letting on that she’d guessed.

  “Perhaps that has something to do with Kurt’s demeanor today?” Ophelia asked.

  Ellen found she couldn’t even answer her cousin. Her brother’s meddling could not be the cause of Kurt’s distancing himself from her. She couldn’t imagine him bowing to such pressure.

  Martin put his arm around his wife, calling out a final farewell as Gunther turned the cart and headed away in the early autumn twilight. Ellen clung to the rocking bench, trying to understand what had gone so terribly wrong. On the way home, Ellen couldn’t decide if she were colder inside from her distress or outside from the chill. Wind buffeted them and swayed the treetops. Dry oak leaves clung to the branches above and the sky stretched overhead, bleak gray.

  “Miss Thurston,” Gunther began, “I have finished reading the American history book you loaned me. Can we start our evening lessons again? I’ll understand if you—”

  Ellen was momentarily ashamed of herself for wallowing in her problems. “No. I want to help you keep up your studies. Do you want to come this weekend or wait till next week?”

  “May I come Saturday afternoon?”

  “Yes, we’ll start learning more American geography. You can help me mount the new wall maps that just arrived.”

  “I’ll be glad to help.” The young man again fell silent.

  Ellen tried to think of another topic of conversation, but all she could think was that Kurt had told Martin he’d expected Randolph’s disapproval. Something else was at work here.

  In the silence, Ellen remembered the many times Kurt had taken her home in this cart, and she’d rested against him. Had the sweet connection she’d felt with him ended? The bleak gray sky slipped inside her as angry words for her interfering brother flowed through her mind.

  She had to find the courage to talk to Kurt…and let him know her heart.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Saturday afternoon came, cold and clear, and Ellen welcomed Gunther and Johann. As she watched Kurt drive away in the cart without so much as a wave, loneliness welled up within.

  Kurt’s avoidance of her made her feel as cold as the December nights. He could easily have come in with Gunther today as he had in the weeks before Marta appeared and measles broke out. If I don’t know what’s changed, what can I do to reach Kurt? When he came back to pick up the boys, she must find a way to speak with him privately.

  After shedding coats and mittens by the door, Gunther and Johann went straight to the fireplace to warm their hands. “I wonder how much colder Wisconsin will be this winter,” Gunther commented, shivering.

  Ellen considered this. “I think the weather might be a bit colder here than my hometown. But it’s nothing we can’t handle.” Memories of a few past blizzards came to mind and she added, “I should draw up guidelines for parents to follow when deciding whether to let their children walk to school or not. Frostbite and getting lost in a snowstorm are possible.”

  Even as she smiled to reassure the boys, her gaze shifted toward the door as if she expected Kurt to appear.

  Johann hurried over to William, who lay on his back on a blanket in front of the fire, kicking his legs and trying to roll over. “Hey, William. I brought my horse and look, now I have a goat, too.” The boy proudly displayed his carved toys above the baby’s face.

  Gunther suffered one more whole body shiver and then pulled a book from his pocket. “I read it, and learned so much. Is it true that Abraham Lincoln was born in a log cabin like we live in?”

  Ellen smiled slightly. “Yes.”

  “Is that why the Ashfords have changed their opinion about me? Is it because they are giving me a chance to prove what I can do? That I could accomplish much, too?”

  Ellen paused to consider her answer. “In a way. They are seeing what you do and how you behave.”

  “And that makes up for me being a foreigner?”

  Ellen sighed. “Some people will always hold that against you, I’m afraid. But not all. When I first met you, you were very unhappy and it showed in your attitude and behavior. That has all changed now.”

  Gunther nodded seriously.

  Ellen thought back to when Gunther had been so unhappy. Did it have anything to do with Kurt? She knew she shouldn’t ask this of Gunther but she was tempted, especially since their conversation the other night, after the Thanksgiving meal.

  Taking herself in hand, Ellen donned her shawl and led Gunther with his coat on into the chilly schoolroom. When school was not in session, she only heated her quarters. The next half hour went quickly as she and Gunther hung the maps of the United States and the world. On his pad of paper, Gunther sketched a crude map of the thirty-seven states and ten territories plus Oklahoma, Indian territory and the newly purchased Alaska. Then, the lesson finished and the two of them, very chilled by now, hurried back into her warm room.

  “Look!” Johann exclaimed, pointing at William.

  William grunted and rolled over, and crowed with his victory. Ellen clapped her hands and Johann sang an impromptu song, “William can roll oooooover! Oooover!”

  She and Johann cooed over the baby, and Ellen was filled with joy at William’s accomplishment. Then she looked at Gunther’s face, which was dark with some murky emotion she could not identify.

  Before she could say anything, he got up, buttoning up his coat. “I will bring in more wood.” After snagging his hat, he was gone.

  Ellen didn’t hesitate. She tightened her shawl and pulled on wool mittens. “I’ll be right back, Johann.”

  She found Gunther bent forward in front of the woodshed, pressing both hands flat against its door, his distress obvious. “Gunther?”

  He swung around.

  She saw tears in his eyes and took another step forward.

  He held up a hand, fighting for control. She waited, shivering.

  “Bad things,” he began when he could command his voice, “happened to us in Germany.”

  Ice crackled around Ellen’s heart. She tried to think of what to say, some comfort to offer. But she desperately wanted to know what kind of bad things he was talking about. Did these bad things have anything to do with how Kurt had pulled away from her?

  Gunther wiped his face with the back of one hand and folded his arm, tucking his hands under. He leaned against the woodshed doors. “When we watched William roll over, I remembered when Johann’s mother died. He had just learned to roll over.” The young man’s voice broke on the last word.

  “My parents both died last year,” Ellen said, trying to say: I know how you feel.

  “Then last year my father died and that was the worst—”

  “Gunther!”

  At Kurt’s shout, Ellen jumped and swung around.

  Kurt leaped down from Martin’s pony cart, his chest heaving as if he’d been running.

  “We go home now!” Kurt barked. “Where is Johann?”

  “He’s inside with William,” Ellen said as calmly as she could, hoping her tone would help soothe Kurt.

/>   “I’m getting more wood for Miss Thurston,” Gunther said combatively, opening the shed door.

  Kurt walked past Ellen as if she weren’t there and called out, “Johann! Time to go home! Now!”

  Ellen didn’t budge as Kurt disappeared into her quarters. Moments later, he returned with Johann behind him. “Hurry and put that wood inside,” he said to Gunther, who had come out of the shed with an armload of wood. “We go home now.”

  Gunther halted. “I’m not going home with you, remember? I’m staying at the Stewards’ place. And before going there, I’m expected to help Mr. Ashford around the store this afternoon and take supper with them. Then I’ll go back to the Stewards’ and do the milking. I will ride to church with you tomorrow.”

  Gunther’s polite but firm tone impressed Ellen. He no longer was the surly teenage boy she’d met only months ago. She turned her attention to Kurt, whose face registered a storm of anger. He turned and marched toward the cart.

  “See you tomorrow, Miss Thurston! Goodbye, Gunther!” Johann called as he ran to catch up with his uncle.

  Ellen held open the door for Gunther. She wanted to ask him to finish telling her what had happened in Germany, but neither of them spoke as he knelt and stacked the wood neatly by the door.

  “Thank you, Gunther.”

  “You’re welcome, miss.” He looked at her. “My uncle is still sad.”

  Ellen nodded, unable to speak.

  “I will see you later at supper with the Ashfords.”

  After Gunther left, she slowly unwrapped her shawl and hung everything neatly on the pegs by the door. Then she prepared a bottle for William and fed him. She looked down at the chubby, happy face, her heart aching for the man she loved. “Kurt is very sad,” she told William. “What hurt him, little one? What awful thing happened in Germany to force him to run all the way here to Pepin to escape it?”

  *

  On Sunday morning, Kurt stood in the schoolroom, singing along with the hymn. But the peace he’d begun to feel in this room on previous Sundays had vanished without a trace.

  “There is a balm in Gilead

  To make the wounded whole…”

  Gunther sat with him and Johann, but anyone could see his brother wanted to sit with the Ashfords. The boy thought himself in love.

  In love. Bile rose in Kurt’s throat.

  Did love really exist in this dark, hurtful world? His traitorous eyes sought out Ellen, who stood alone toward the front of the room.

  What had Gunther told Miss Thurston about what had befallen their family? The heat of shame rolled through him in waves.

  He alone carried the full weight of the past. Johann and Gunther’s youth protected them. I’m so tired, Lord.

  “There is a balm in Gilead

  To heal the sin-sick soul…”

  Even as Kurt sang, he was sure there was no balm in Gilead for him. He would carry this weight till he died. Only then could he lay it down.

  His mind rebelled at this curse, remembering the joy of holding Ellen close, of breathing in her floral scent and cradling her softness within his arms. That had been a balm to his wounded heart. But that could never happen again. She didn’t need a wounded soul like his.

  Noah prayed, and the service ended.

  “Come,” Kurt told the boys. “We go.”

  People gathering to speak to the pastor on their way out blocked the doorway. Wanting to escape before Ellen came anywhere near him, Kurt chafed. But he waited till he and the lads could make their way into the aisle and then approached Noah. As usual, Kurt said, “Thank you for the good sermon.”

  Noah gripped Kurt’s hand but didn’t relinquish it. “We appreciate how Gunther has pitched in to keep things safe at the Steward’s while they’re gone.”

  “Ja.” Kurt nodded, extracting his hand from the pastor’s grip.

  “Do you need any help putting up enough wood for the winter? Gordy and I are going to clear another field before the first good snow and could use you and Gunther. You’d get a share of the wood.” Noah searched his eyes as if reading his heart.

  Kurt edged a step away, nodding. “Thank you.”

  “Come over later or tomorrow morning and we’ll talk it over.”

  Kurt hurried his two boys through the door into the chill wind. And then he felt a hand claim his sleeve.

  Ellen Thurston stood before him. “May I have a word with you?”

  “It is cold and we must get home,” he replied and turned away.

  “It is cold indeed when a friend turns his back,” she said.

  He swung around, aware of people all around them, hurrying to their wagons or heading home on foot. “What do you need?”

  “To talk to you.”

  “We have nothing to say to each other.”

  “I have much to say to you,” she said plainly, her beautiful eyes beseeching him.

  It hurt just to look at her. “I have no time for talk.”

  Kurt turned and climbed up onto his wagon bench. Johann looked shocked, his mouth hanging open. “Get into the back, Johann.” Kurt untied the reins. “Come on, Gunther. It’s cold.”

  Gunther sent Miss Thurston a sympathetic look and then glared at Kurt, but he climbed up on the bench.

  Kurt slapped the reins and without a backward glance turned his wagon and started up the track. Against his will his mind replayed the hymn. There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole…

  *

  When they arrived at their cabin, both Johann and Gunther wordlessly got off the wagon. Kurt unhitched the team, rubbed them down and put them out to graze the dry grass. He looked at his barn and cabin, and thought that what he’d been told about America had proven true so far—there was free land, and a hardworking man could make a place for himself.

  A few feet from the cabin door, Kurt halted. His unruly imagination drew up an image of Ellen in a crisp, white apron, standing in his doorway, telling him to hurry inside where warmth and a good meal awaited him. The imagined picture beckoned and then mocked him. Searing pain made him gasp and bend over, resting his hands on his knees. How could mere emotions hurt so much?

  Finally, he straightened and went inside where he and Gunther ate lunch in an unfriendly silence. Johann looked worried but said nothing until he asked to be excused to go out and play. Kurt nodded.

  The moment the door shut behind Johann, Kurt and Gunther faced each other.

  “Why did you act like that today? Rushing us off?” Gunther asked.

  Kurt ignored this. “What did you tell Miss Thurston about what happened in Germany?” Nausea rolled through Kurt.

  “I only told her bad things happened there,” Gunther said with a defiant edge to his voice. “You heard me, didn’t you? And why shouldn’t I tell her that?”

  “Why?” Kurt thundered in German. “Why don’t I want everyone here to know what happened at home? Are you crazy?”

  Gunther stared at him. “Even if I told Miss Thurston, do you think she would repeat it to anybody else? Don’t you know what kind of lady Miss Thurston is by now?” Gunther struck the table with his fist. “Are you the child here or am I?”

  Kurt leaped to his feet, breathing fast and hard. “You will not talk to me like that.”

  Gunther rose and gazed at his brother with pity. “I am living in the here and now. I am Gunther Lang,” he pronounced the words the American way. “I am learning to be an American. I will never return to Europe. Nothing we left behind would draw me back there. And nothing that happened there can touch me here.”

  Gunther’s words ricocheted in Kurt’s mind, and he could not reply.

  “We watched little William roll over yesterday by Miss Thurston’s fireplace and it reminded me of losing Maria.” The lad stopped and obviously swallowed down his emotion. “Because Johann had just rolled over for the first time the day Maria died. She was too ill to see Johann that day. The fever had already taken her husband and she was leaving us, too.” Gunther bent his head for a moment, struggling
visibly for control. “I can never talk to you about what happened because you don’t want to talk about it, won’t talk about it. But it happened to me and Johann, too. It didn’t just happen to you.”

  Kurt silently admitted the truth of that. His throat shut tight. Sweat dotted his forehead.

  I can’t bear to talk about it.

  “I don’t take pleasure in talking about it. But if I had told Miss Thurston all that happened to us—losing Maria and her husband, the way our father lived…and how he died—she would say nothing to anybody about it. She is not the kind of lady who gossips. I trust her. Why don’t you?”

  Kurt swallowed and tried to come up with words but couldn’t. Stark, uncompromising shame and loss riddled him.

  “I’ve made up my mind,” Gunther said. “I am going to court Amanda for the next two years till I’m eighteen and can stake my own homestead. Then I will ask Amanda to marry me. I am not going to let the past ruin my future.”

  The two of them stared at each other for a moment. Then Gunther went to the pegs by the door, drew on his coat and left.

  Kurt felt ill, exhausted. He slumped into his chair and buried his face into his hands. As he thought of Gunther’s words, the scene with Miss Thurston outside the school played in his mind.

  I am unworthy of her, and not just because of her money or her uncle who sits in the Illinois congress.

  The way his father died had stained Kurt and nothing would ever wash him clean. With a sinking sensation, he recalled the look on Brigitte’s face when he’d told her about his father’s death. She had jilted him then, just one week after the public announcement of their betrothal.

  Sometimes he thought his father had planned everything to hurt Kurt and Gunther in the worst possible way.

  Sometimes he wished his father lived again so he could pummel him, hurl abuse at him for what he had done. Kurt shook with a sudden rage, shocking himself.

  Why, Father, why did you do that to us—after everything else you’d done?

  *

  Sitting alone in her quarters, Ellen had barely moved in the hours following her public scene with Kurt. Most likely people were gossiping about her brazen behavior over cups of coffee, laughing about the schoolteacher throwing herself at the Dutchman. No doubt they thought her pathetic.