Lyn Cote Page 23

  Ellen gasped and then wrapped her arms around Kurt’s shoulders as best she could, resting her head against his as he continued to stare into the fire. “Oh, Kurt, how awful for you.”

  Her words, spoken with heartfelt sympathy, released the pain in him. Tears flowed and he couldn’t stanch them. They washed down his face, cleansing him.

  “I found him. I will never forget the sight. And after…no one would speak to us. Or even look at us. Because he was a suicide, we couldn’t bury him in the churchyard. My fiancée ended our engagement with a note tacked on my door. Gunther and Johann and I were left with just enough to pay for our fares and some money to start over. We left the week after.”

  Kurt straightened without breaking their connection. He held her close and breathed in her sweet scent. “Ellen, my sweet Ellen.”

  “Yes,” she murmured, “I am your Ellen. And you are my Kurt. I love you and will not let you go, no matter what,” she said with all the fierceness she felt. “No one here needs to know what happened over there, Kurt. It wasn’t your fault. When my little brother died, for years I blamed myself deep within. But it was false guilt, as is yours. There is no way you could have stopped your father. A son can’t control a father.”

  Kurt received her words as absolution—at last. “You’re right.”

  “God must think we’re slow. We’ve blamed ourselves for losses we had no hand in. That isn’t what He wants for us.”

  Kurt nodded against her.

  They held each other a long, silent time and Ellen reveled in his strength and the very handsomeness that had at first made him suspect. With a lighter heart, she tousled his golden curls. “Kurt, you’re too handsome to marry the old maid schoolmarm.”

  “Foolishness. You are a beauty. But you must know that I will always be that Dutchman,” he said.

  “And I’ll always love that Dutchman,” she said, stroking his cheek with her soft palm.

  He clasped her to him again, thanking God for this woman, this special gift. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her as he had wanted to for so long.

  Ellen drew his breath in and reveled in his gentle yet demanding kiss. She had never been kissed like this and with such love in all her life.

  “Will you be my wife, Liebschen?”

  Words she had thought she never wanted to hear. How foolish. Of course, what really mattered was the man who said them. “Yes, Kurt, I will be your wife.” Joy enveloped her. She wanted to stand on tiptoe and sing.

  Kurt laughed aloud as if he also couldn’t contain his joy at this special moment.

  She now knew the difference between calf love and real love. Kurt was her real McCoy.

  *

  Snow fell thick and fast on Sunday morning. It was almost time for worship to begin. Ellen dressed with care, wanting to look her best on this very special day. She finished getting William ready and then carried him into the schoolroom.

  Martin and Ophelia had returned from Galena. They sat in their usual place but this time Kurt, Gunther and Johann had joined them, no longer sitting in the back. Already, people stared at this new arrangement, whispering to each other. But they had smiles on their faces, as if they were anticipating something. Ellen, unable to keep from smiling herself, walked over to the Stewards and the Langs. Kurt rose and lifted William into his arms. Then she sat beside him, feeling all eyes on her back. For the first time since she’d come to Pepin, the feeling was not a bad one.

  Noah cleared his throat and everyone sat down, looking expectantly toward him. “Before we begin today, I think that Martin Steward has an announcement to make.”

  Martin stood and turned to face the congregation. “It is my distinct pleasure to announce the engagement of Kurt Lang to our cousin Miss Ellen Thurston—”

  Clapping and whistles drowned out Martin’s last words. “When’s the weddin’?” someone called out.

  Kurt stood and beamed. “In May next year. Right after school ends.”

  “That means we have to find a new teacher for next year,” Mr. Ashford said, sounding surprisingly pleased.

  Mrs. Ashford was weeping into a lace handkerchief. “I’m so happy. So happy.”

  Old Saul tapped his son, who then rolled the wheelchair down the aisle to Kurt. “I told you the day I met you that God had a plan for your life, a good one.”

  Kurt shook the large but frail hand. “You were right.”

  “‘A man who finds a wife finds a good thing,’” Old Saul quoted with a twinkle in his eye. “And you found a very fine one. God bless you both.”

  Ellen took Old Saul’s other hand and the three of them formed a circle of unity as Noah asked everyone to bow for a prayer of thanksgiving. At the end of the prayer, Old Saul said, “May God richly bless you with a love that grows and a family to love.”

  And everyone called out, “Amen!”

  Kurt pulled Ellen closer to him, too proud for words.

  She smiled at him and whispered, “I love you.”

  He bent close to her ear. “I love you, Liebschen.”

  Epilogue

  April 18, 1871

  The crowd sat on benches and in wagons that parked around the schoolyard clearing, watching Martin intently as he prepared to read the next word at the long-anticipated Pepin spelling bee. An especially lovely spring day cheered everyone, blessing the exciting event. Three other schools had arrived in midmorning to compete and now, after over two hours of spelling, only three students still stood on the makeshift platform in the schoolyard.

  “Dorcas, you have won the spelling bee in the primary grade class,” Martin said. “Please be seated until we have a winner for the advanced class.”

  People applauded as Dorcas sat down.

  Both dressed in their Sunday best, Amanda and a boy from the Bear Lake School, Samuel Tarkington, still remained standing nervously on the platform.

  Ellen held hands with Kurt as they sat on the first row of benches. She wanted to get up and shout, “You can do it, Amanda!” But she worked hard to hold herself with dignity, as a lady should. Johann sat with his fellow first graders, watching closely. Ophelia sat on Ellen’s other side, jiggling Nathan, who was squirming on her knee.

  “The word is dichotomy,” Martin read from the approved list.

  “Dichotomy,” Amanda repeated. “D-i-c-h-o-t-o-m-y. Dichotomy.”

  “Correct,” Martin said,

  A burst of applause.

  Martin turned to the boy. “The word is euphonious.”

  Samuel looked very white. Tension filled the school clearing. His family leaned forward. “Euphonious. E-u-p-h-o-n-i-o-u-s. Euphonious.”

  “Correct!” Martin said.

  Excited applause from Samuel’s school broke out.

  “Hauteur,” Martin said to Amanda.

  “Hauteur,” Amanda repeated, visibly trembling. “H-a-u-t-u-e-r. Hauteur.”

  “I’m sorry, Amanda,” Martin said, sounding sorry. “That is incorrect.”

  A gasp went through the crowd. Ellen tightened her grip on Kurt’s hand. Amanda stepped to the side of the stage, waiting to see if Samuel would miss the word. She looked shaken.

  Gunther rose from the bench, catching her eye.

  She smiled tremulously back at him.

  “Samuel, spell hauteur,” Martin said.

  The boy cleared his voice. “Hauteur. H-a-u-t-e-u-r. Hauteur.”

  “That is correct,” Martin announced with enthusiasm. “Samuel Tarkington, representing Bear Lake School, is the winner in the advanced category and the last speller standing in the First Annual Southwest Wisconsin Spelling Bee.”

  Everyone rose and applauded, no matter what school they’d come to support. The applause went on and on till Mr. Ashford and three other men mounted the platform. Mr. Ashford held up his hands and the crowd settled down to listen.

  “We are so happy that three other schools joined us in this first annual spelling bee.” He shook hands with the other men who represented the three other school boards. “We inten
d to do this again next year and hope even more schools will be able to attend.”

  Then Mr. Ashford invited Samuel, his parents and teacher to come up to receive the large winning plaque. “Each year this plaque will be awarded to the winning school, engraved with the name of the winning speller, their grade, and the year.”

  The crowd applauded as Samuel accepted the plaque with a big grin.

  “The top three spellers will receive ribbons.” Mr. Ashford waved up Amanda and Dorcas, and hung a blue ribbon around Samuel’s neck, a red one around Amanda’s and a yellow one around Dorcas’s. “Let’s applaud all the teachers, parents and students who worked so hard to make this spelling bee a rousing success!”

  The crowd rose as one, applauding, whistling and stomping their feet.

  Ellen felt nearly lifted into the air.

  Mr. Ashford continued, nearly shouting over the crowd, “I want to also announce that our teacher, Miss Ellen Thurston, was the person who came up with the idea for this spelling bee. Next month, she is going to marry Kurt Lang, one of our prominent citizens.”

  Not expecting Mr. Ashford to announce this so publicly, Ellen blushed. But at Kurt’s insistence, she waved and smiled at everyone. Then Noah closed with prayer and Mr. Ashford invited everyone to partake of the potluck refreshments on the school grounds.

  Ellen and Kurt stood together, receiving best wishes and compliments on the spelling bee. Finally, they walked together toward the food tables. “Prominent citizen,” she murmured to Kurt with a smile.

  Kurt chuckled, and pointed at Amanda and Gunther already sitting at a nearby table with the Ashfords. “He thinks we will be related.”

  Ellen laughed. “I think he’s right.”

  Noah and his wife, Sunny, came up behind them in line. “We’re so glad for both of you,” Sunny said, with a smile that radiated joy.

  Noah agreed, adding, “We’ve just received good news. My cousin Rachel Woolsey is coming from Pennsylvania in June. It will be good to have family nearby. Rachel is a wonderful girl.”

  Mr. Ashford overheard what Noah was saying, and he came over and asked, “Do you think she’d be qualified to teach?”

  Noah shook his head. “No, Rachel is a notable cook and baker. She intends to start her own bake shop here.”

  Mr. Ashford looked surprised and many around them put their heads together to discuss this startling announcement. Ellen already knew all too well the challenges this unconventional woman was going to face in Pepin, but if the community could rise to the occasion for her, they could do it again for Miss Woolsey.

  She looked up into Kurt’s blue eyes and her love for him nearly overwhelmed her as he drew her hand to his lips.

  “Liebschen.”

  Then they made their way through the line, chatting with neighbors and filling their plates, just as their lives—soon to be joined together—had been filled with love.

  *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Courting Campaign by Regina Scott.

  Dear Reader,

  I loved writing Ellen and Kurt’s story. It’s hard for us to believe today, but German immigrants or any immigrants (including, oddly, the Irish) who came from countries that didn’t speak English were looked down on as second class, and often subjected to racial slurs. The racial slur used against Germans was “Dutch,” which was a mispronunciation of what Germans called themselves, Deutsche (pronounced Doit-cha).

  It is always so interesting to research the language of a time period. For example, I had wanted to use the phrase “the real thing,” but after some research, I discovered that phrase came into use much later than when this story takes place. I don’t like to use phrases that aren’t historically grounded.

  So I substituted “the real McCoy,” and discovered that this phrase came to be because of Elijah McCoy, an African-American born in Ontario, Canada, in 1844, the son of runaway slaves. Educated in Scotland as a mechanical engineer, Elijah McCoy settled in Detroit. He invented a cup that would regulate the flow of oil onto moving parts of industrial machines.

  The term “real McCoy” refers to Elijah’s oiling device. It became so popular that people inspecting new equipment would ask if the device contained “the real McCoy.”

  How about that?

  The next heroine in this series will be Noah Whitmore’s cousin Rachel, who wants to establish her own business. Again, businesswomen aren’t uncommon now, but in 1871 they were! And wait till you see the unlikely hero who will claim her heart!

  Lyn Cote

  QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

  What’s the difference between infatuation and love, in your opinion?

  Why did Ellen leave her home in Galena?

  What impressed the Pepin community about Ellen?

  What sad event had taken place in the past year in Ellen’s life? Do you think this caused some of her and her siblings’ troubles?

  Why do you think people looked down on foundlings or orphans in the nineteenth century?

  Why did Ellen think she wouldn’t make a good mother?

  Have you ever met a woman like Mrs. Ashford? Who was she and what was she like?

  Why did Mr. Brawley object to his wife taking the job of caring for William at first? What does this say about the difference between life in 1870 and life today?

  Measles has nearly disappeared from most of the U.S. but still rages in other countries. What caused this to change?

  How did Gunther change over the course of this story? What do you think changed him?

  Kurt carried a lot of sad emotional baggage. What was the source of his shame, and why was it so hard for him to get over it?

  Is there anything in your life that you’ve had to work your way through emotionally? How did you recover? What helped you?

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical title.

  You find illumination in days gone by. Love Inspired Historical stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.

  Enjoy four new stories from Love Inspired Historical every month!

  Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.

  We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com

  Subscribe to our newsletter for special offers, new releases, and more!

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Chapter One

  The Grange, near the Peak District, Derbyshire,

  England

  June 1815

  “He’ll blow us all up this time, he will.”

  At the maid’s prediction, Emma Pyrmont glanced up from where she’d set her charge’s afternoon tea to steep. The scullery maid, laundress and chambermaids had their noses pressed to the glass of the Grange’s wide kitchen window. Even Mrs. Jennings, their cook, was peering over their shoulders, her ample bulk blocking some of the summer sunlight.

  “It’s more like steam than smoke,” the white-haired cook said with certainty born from experience.

  “Looks more dangerous to me,” argued Dorcus Turner. Even though Emma had only been working at the Grange for a few months, she’d noticed that the buxom chambermaid had an opinion on every subject. “I’ll bet the master is coughing.” She elbowed the laundress. “And there’ll be more smelly clothes to wash, too.”

  Emma returned her gaze to the elegant teapot sitting in front of her on the worktable in the center of the kitchen. The curve of the silver gave back a reflection of her face, from her light blond hair to her pursed lips. It seemed she had an opinion on the matter, too, but she wasn’t about to voice it. She had no business caring what her employer, Sir Nicholas Rotherford, did in his makeshift laboratory to the south of the Grange. It was not her place to rescue the master from his folly. In this house, her place was in the nursery.

  And thank You, Lord, for
that! You’ve kept Your promise to never forsake me, even when others haven’t.

  “You may be right,” Mrs. Jennings said, and Emma could see her shifting this way and that as if trying for a better view. Her blue wool skirts and white apron brushed the worn wood floor. “Perhaps it is smoke. Come have a look, Miss Pyrmont, and tell us what you think.”

  Emma lifted the lid on the teapot and peered inside. Not quite there—the tea looked far too pale. And that meant she couldn’t avoid the cook’s request by claiming her duty. Biting back a sigh, Emma slid the lid into place and went to join the group by the window.

  The Grange sat at the end of Dovecote Dale, with its back to the Derbyshire peaks and its front looking down the dale and the swirling waters of the River Bell. The house had been built of creamy stone in the last century and was a solid block with a portico at the front and a veranda at the back. She knew the master had turned one of the nearest stone outbuildings into some sort of laboratory where he conducted experiments, but she’d made it a point not to learn what sort and why.

  Now she could see that gray smoke was seeping from under the wooden door. But a light gleamed through the paned windows, and a shadow of someone tall crossed in front of it. Whatever he was doing, Sir Nicholas did not appear to have taken any harm.

  “It isn’t dangerous,” she promised the concerned onlookers. “You only need to worry if the smoke turns black.”

  The maids gaped at her as she returned to her tea.

  “As if she’d know,” Dorcus grumbled.

  “An expert on smoke, are we now?” Mrs. Jennings challenged the maid. “Get about your duties, all of you, or you can be sure I’ll bring the matter up with Mrs. Dunworthy.”

  The threat of Sir Nicholas’s widowed sister-in-law, who had come to manage the household for him four years ago, sent them all scurrying from the kitchen. Emma breathed a sigh of relief. She had only caught a glimpse of her reclusive employer as she sat in the back pew for Sunday services and he sat near the front of the church. She rather liked keeping her distance. She was fairly certain he’d been a caller at the house where she’d lived in London, and she didn’t want him to wonder how she’d found her place working at the Grange. The fewer people who knew about her background, the better. She couldn’t risk her foster father learning where she’d gone.