by Emily Woods
Tim placed a hand on Paul’s shoulder.
“There is something you could do…”
Paul stared at his friend.
“What, Tim?”
Tim took a long pause.
“We could make this go away, Paul,” Tim offered gently. “We could go down to the courthouse in the next town and get the papers. I reckon we could do it real easy. She didn’t tell the truth about her skills, and she almost ruined your inn. I reckon that’s enough for any lawyer to sign your papers and let you find another wife.”
Paul weighed Tim’s words.
“She’s my wife under God, Tim,” Paul replied softly.
Tim shook his head.
“She lied to you, Paul,” Tim responded. “She ain’t got what it takes to be your wife and to run your inn. It ain’t good for you to have something else to take care of, let alone a child that ain’t yours. Might be best to cut your losses and let this go.”
“Maybe I should let this go…” Paul repeated to himself as Tim busied himself once again with taking inventory of the charred kitchen.
Paul didn’t know that only feet away from where he and Tim were conversing, Gerta was listening. She had come downstairs after waking from a nap and heard voices in the kitchen. With Inge at school and Paul still acting icy toward her since the fire, Gerta hoped some new guests were arriving and that she could have a nice chat with them.
“Might be best to cut your losses and let this go,” Gerta heard Tim, her husband’s best friend, say as she walked downstairs.
Gerta’s stomach lurched at Tim’s words. She clasped a hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Instead of entering the kitchen as she had intended, she stood against the wall in the corridor and tried not to cry.
Gerta waited for her husband to speak. He had been so angry after the fire, and he had been avoiding her all week. He was still lavishing his adoration upon Inge, but he and Gerta were like strangers. Paul had even begun sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms, and Gerta had no idea how she would win back her husband’s affections. She had prayed about it each day, but she was unsure of what the Lord was trying to tell her.
“Maybe I should let this go…” Paul’s deep voice murmured.
Gerta sank to the floor, her hand still over her mouth. Was Paul thinking of sending her away? He had made promises to Gerta under the eyes of God and in front of the entire congregation of Pinecone’s only church! Gerta was overcome with confusion and hurt by the exchange between Paul and Tim, and without thinking, she let out a moan.
“What was that?” Tim asked from the kitchen.
Gerta’s brown eyes grew large. She once again clasped her hand across her mouth and ran back upstairs.
“Dear Lord, please don’t let this happen,” Gerta prayed aloud as tears fell from her eyes. “Please don’t let Paul send us away. We were so very happy in California before the fire! Paul is a good man. He loves my daughter, and he has been a good husband to me! I will never find someone like him again, Lord! Please open his heart and let him forgive me for my misstep. Lord, please! This is our home. Please don’t let him send us away.”
“Mama? Where is Daddy sending us?”
Gerta’s eyes flew open. Inge was standing in the doorway, a confused look on her face. She walked to her mother and wrapped her arms around Gerta.
“Mama? Is Daddy sending us somewhere?”
Gerta forced herself to smile.
“No, sweetheart, it’s nothing!”
Gerta kissed her daughter’s forehead and smoothed Inge’s skirts. Inge had taken to wearing the simple dresses of the prairie girls, and she looked adorable in the maroon shift dress and white apron. Inge was adapting easily to California. She had already made several friends at the little school, and she was happily settling into their new life. Gerta could not fathom the thought of her daughter being ripped away from her newfound joy, and she made a vow to God that she would move mountains to save her marriage.
“Lord,” Gerta prayed silently as Inge dashed out of the room. “I let Paul down. I hastily read his advertisement and did not take it seriously. I was preoccupied with the hopes of being a business owner’s wife and the prestige of it all! Now, I know that I have done him wrong, but mark my words, I will work hard and I will fix this!”
In the kitchen, Paul’s eyes widened.
“It was Gerta. She must have heard us.”
Tim shrugged. “Maybe that ain’t the worst thing. You’ve held your temper toward her. I’ve been real impressed, Paul. She burned down your kitchen, and you’ve been good to her and to her little girl. Maybe she should hear how you feel about this whole situation. It just ain’t right.”
Paul shook his head.
“It ain’t right, but I don’t want to hurt her,” he admitted, thinking of the earliest days of his marriage with fondness. “She is my wife, Tim. I’ve made promises to her. I can’t let her go. I will have to do right by her and by my little girl, friend. I ain’t gonna fail them. I ain’t in a place right now to forgive Gerta, but I will have to pray real hard that the Lord settles my angry heart.”
Tim looked skeptical.
“What if the Lord don’t give you forgiveness for her?”
Paul stared at Tim.
“The Lord is faithful, Tim. He will help me to forgive her in time. Now, let’s keep working on this kitchen. It ain’t gonna rebuild itself.”
The next month crept by slowly. The atmosphere at the Pinecone Inn was still tense. Gerta could not forget the words her husband had said back in the kitchen, and she could barely look him in the eye when they passed each other in the halls. It was as if they were heartbroken teenagers rather than husband and wife, and Gerta felt her loneliness and frustration intensifying with every awkward encounter and each stiff word.
“Lord,” Gerta prayed one evening as her sorrow weighed heavily on her chest. “Please, Lord, show me what to do! Please give me an idea of how I can win back my husband!”
Paul struggled to forgive his wife. Paul continued to sleep in the guest bedroom, and finally, one evening in the living room, Inge demanded to know what had happened.
“Mama? Why are you and Daddy angry?”
Paul and Gerta stared at the child. They had not spoken of the fire in weeks, and they avoided each other around the inn. They spent time together in the living room each night for Inge’s sake, but besides their forced interactions, they grew more and more distant.
Inge waved her dolls at Paul and Gerta. Her little face was contorted in sadness, and tears filled her blue eyes.
“You used to love each other! Now you don’t. It makes me so sad.”
Paul looked down at his leather boots. He ran a hand through his dark hair, feeling awkward. Gerta felt just as unsettled by Inge’s questions, and she did not respond to her daughter.
“Please tell me what is going on! Why don’t you love each other anymore? You loved each other at the church during the wedding and just after the wedding! I don’t understand. Mama? Daddy? Please! What is the matter?”
Neither adult said a word, and finally, an exasperated Inge marched out of the living room.
“We should probably talk about it,” Paul said moments later, breaking the heavy silence that had consumed the room. “It’s been real bad between us, and I reckon we can’t go on like this for much longer. I’ve heard you crying yourself to sleep in the evenings, and I feel real bad about that, Gerta.”
Gerta nodded eagerly. She had been praying nonstop about a good conversation with Paul, and she felt hopeful that this was the beginning of their reconciliation.
“We should,” Gerta agreed.
Still not meeting his wife’s eyes, Paul addressed Gerta in a hushed tone.
“I know you may have heard some talk of Tim and me. I am real sorry if you heard some things that hurt you. I want you to know that I ain’t gonna end our marriage, Gerta. I am still angry, though. I feel like you was using me and came to California for your own reasons. I ain’t real pleased by that,
but I know how good we got on when you first arrived. I hope I can forgive you, Gerta, and I am praying real hard for the strength to let this go.”
Gerta hung her head in shame.
“I am sorry,” she whispered.
Paul said nothing. After several moments of silence, he turned and walked out of the room, his steps heavy and his shoulders sagging. Gerta watched him go, and with every step he took, she fought the urge to run after him and throw herself in his arms.
“Lord, what can I do?” Gerta wondered aloud as she heard her husband climb the stairs.
The next day, Gerta sprang into action. She woke before dawn and quietly slipped out of the house before Inge and Paul had awoken. Gerta walked into the town of Pinecone and went straight to the little schoolhouse where her daughter was being educated. It was very different from the fancy private school in Philadelphia that both Inge and Gerta had attended, but as Gerta stepped inside, she noticed what she had been looking for: a bookshelf filled with books!
The schoolteacher was sitting at the desk writing with a quill pen. Gerta was surprised to see her there. The sun had not yet risen, and it would be hours before the children arrived.
“You are here early,” Gerta said. “I don’t think we have been introduced. I am Inge’s mother, Gerta. She loves coming to school here. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
The teacher was shocked to hear a voice from the back of the room. She nearly fell out of her chair, but then caught her breath.
“So sorry! You caught me by surprise! I try to get here real early to prepare for the day, and I don’t usually got anyone stopping by in the mornings!”
Gerta smiled gently at the teacher. They appeared to be of similar age, and Gerta felt embarrassed for scaring the woman.
“It’s real nice to meet you! Little Inge is a good girl! She is a smart little thing, too! She knows her alphabet well, and her arithmetic is real impressive!”
Gerta was pleased to hear such kind words about her daughter, and she reached out her hand to shake the young teacher’s.
“What is your name?” Gerta asked.
“My name is Miss Samantha Mammel, Miss Gerta,” Samantha said, blushing as she tucked a stray brown hair behind her ear. “Did you want to talk about little Inge today, Miss Gerta? I can show you some of her work!”
Gerta shook her head. “I’ve come to ask a favor, Samantha,” Gerta began.
Samantha smiled kindly. “What kind of favor, Miss Gerta?”
Gerta pointed to the bookshelf.
“Do you have any books on cooking or cleaning?”
Samantha nodded enthusiastically.
“Of course! I have one or two books on the domestic arts. Not many of my students take them home, most of my students prefer books about princesses or Biblical stories, but I am sure I have something you are looking for.”
Samantha rushed to the bookshelf and began to scan the titles. She ran her hands across the books, pulling out several and pushing them back.
“Hmmmm, they must be ’round here somewhere!”
Gerta’s heart began to pound. What if the little schoolhouse did not have what she needed? What if her idea was ruined? How would she ever win back the love of her husband if she could not properly learn how to run the inn and care for her household?
“Here! Miss Gerta! I have three whole books on the domestic arts. Would you like to see them?”
Gerta nodded. Samantha gave her the books. Gerta flipped through the pages and began to cry tears of happiness.
“This is what I need! This is perfect. Samantha, may I borrow these and take them home with me? I can send them back with Inge soon, I promise!”
Samantha nodded graciously.
“Of course! These books ain’t just for the children, but for all of us in Pinecone! We are real lucky to have books in such a small town, and it is a joy for me to see you enjoying what we have to offer here.”
Gerta clutched the books to her chest. She had a plan. She would study the books thoroughly and learn everything she needed to know about cooking and managing a household. She would put her knowledge to use in some form, and with her new skills, she would impress Paul and be back in his good graces.
Gerta turned to Samantha and kissed her on the cheek before running out of the schoolhouse.
“Thank you for this! Your kindness is so appreciated!”
Gerta spent the next few days locked away in her room studying her new books. Paul was busy with the repairs to the kitchen, and in the evenings, as they spent time together as a family in the living room, he did not question her daily whereabouts.
Gerta read chapters about cooking, learned about the proper supplies needed to tidy a parlor, and even spent time examining the pages detailing the gruesome steps to kill a chicken for fresh meat. Gerta read and reread each book several times, and finally, she felt prepared to embark upon the task she had prayed would be the way to her husband’s heart.
On a crisp Tuesday morning, Gerta rose early to pray. She ventured outside to the small gardens overlooking the forest, and as the sun rose over the fields and valleys, she crossed her hands and spoke to God.
“Lord,” Gerta began. “Lord, today is the day. The kitchen has been repaired, and today, I will do what I need to do to repair my marriage. I am going to do right by my husband. He has been so kind to my daughter and to me, and today is the day I make my own repairs!”
Gerta finished her prayers and hurried back to the house. She helped Inge prepare for school, and as she watched her daughter skip off the property, Paul appeared behind her. He had a frustrated look on his face.
“I need one more handle for the cabinets in the kitchen, and the general store ain’t got what I need,” he said to his wife. “I am going to take one of the horses and ride to the next town over and see if their general store has got what I need. I’ll be back by sundown.”
Gerta nodded. Paul stepped past her and walked to the barn. Gerta was first disappointed that Paul did not bid her a proper good-bye, but then, she realized that the timing of his errand was impeccable.
“Perfect!” Gerta exclaimed.
She smoothed her skirts, tied her long hair into a braid that ran down her back, and walked into the kitchen. The new wooden table smelled fresh, and the paint was still drying on the walls. Gerta grinned as she gathered the new bowls from beneath the stairs and set to work preparing her surprise.
That evening, Paul and Inge arrived home at the same time.
“Daddy!” Inge yelled happily as they walked inside of the inn.
“What is that smell? It is good, Daddy!”
Paul sniffed the air. It did smell nice in the inn. The air was fragrant, and he could detect the smell of fresh baked chicken.
“What could that be?” Paul said as he and Inge walked into the kitchen.
The kitchen was empty. It was just as Paul had left it, and he and Inge walked into the dining room. Before their eyes was a magnificent feast on the large dining room table! All twelve places at the table had been set—the fine placemats bearing the inn’s name had been retrieved from the attic, and the best set of china had been placed at each spot. Intricately designed glasses were placed to the top right of each plate, and a diverse range of foods were steaming on the table in the inn’s many pots.
“What is this? Paul asked incredulously as his eyes swept the dining room.
“It’s a fine dinner! This is what we used to have at home, Daddy!” Inge said joyfully. “Look! There are roasted potatoes, and a fresh chicken! I see vegetables, too! Daddy, look! There are green beans, and cabbage, and cooked carrots!”
Paul circled the dining room table. He breathed in the smell of the steaming dishes in front of him.
“Where did this all of this come from?”
“I did it, Paul.”
Paul turned to see his wife standing in the doorway. Gerta looked beautiful. She was wearing the pale-yellow dress she had worn on their wedding day, and her golden hair tumble
d loosely upon her shoulders. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were sparkling. She looked nervous, but radiant, and Paul’s jaw dropped.
“You did all of this, Gerta?” Paul asked.
Gerta nodded.
“I made such a mess of things that night when the guests were here! I made a fool of myself and a fool of you, and I couldn’t bear to let you down any longer, Paul. I wanted to show you that I can be the wife and helper that you want. I worked so hard to prepare this meal. I learned the recipes and can recite them from memory. I went to the general store by myself to select the ingredients, and I even picked some things fresh from the garden! I wanted everything to be perfect for us, Paul, and I hope that this shows you how truly sorry I am, how thankful I am for you, and how badly I want us to be a family and partners together in running this inn.”
Paul stared at his wife in veneration. Gerta looked stunning as she stood before him. Her eyes were earnest, and she gingerly touched his shoulder.
“May I offer you a seat, my husband?”
Paul nodded, still speechless. He sat down at the table and gestured at Inge.
“Sit down, dear,” he said, waving a hand to the seat beside him.
Inge skipped to the table and sat down.
“I can’t believe you prepared this by yourself, Mama!” Inge said, giggling to herself as she surveyed the table. “This looks nicer than something Vicky would make in Philadelphia!”
Gerta beamed.
“It was a lot of work, but I know the Lord helped me through. I prayed about this, and I thought it was a good way to show you my devotion, Paul.”
Paul closed his eyes. It was silent in the dining room, and Gerta grew anxious as Paul said nothing.
“Paul?” Gerta whispered.
Paul blinked open his eyes. He looked at his wife, and for the first time in several weeks, he smiled at her. He waved her over to the table, and then, he rose from his chair. He pulled out the other chair beside his, and he nodded it at. Gerta gracefully lowered herself into the seat, and Paul helped her inch closer to the table. He sat back down, and then, he extended both of his hands to Inge and Gerta.
