Letters in the Grove

by Felicia Rogers

  Hans face fell. “But—“

  Teresa attempted to soften her tone. “I’m sure he cares for you. Perhaps he lost his way and began to believe you truly belonged to him. Whatever the case, he is attempting to keep you from your parents.”

  “I guess so,” Hans said, as he kicked the ground and resumed walking.

  Sadness followed Hans’ words and Teresa shut her mouth. There was no need to make the young man feel worse than he already did.

  After two days of eating roots and hiding under bushes to sleep, they reached the edge of the vineyard. Either they had walked slowly or Herr Raeder’s vineyard was extremely well-portioned.

  At the end of the road was a small wooden house. Smoke rolled from an opening in the roof. The yard was unkempt with wood strewn haphazardly about. They watched and waited from behind a nearby tree. Teresa gnawed upon her lip. They couldn’t continue in the same vein or they would never reach town.

  “We must ask for assistance,” she said, voicing her thoughts.

  “Yes, I believe you are right. Should I–“

  “No, I will do it.”

  Her heart hammered in her chest as she took the first step, and Hans bid her be careful. She gulped and stepped onto the porch. Boards sagged beneath her slight weight and she noted her future steps. The paneled door appeared solid and she knocked.

  “What do you want?” came a husky, deep voice as the door was ripped open.

  Teresa took a step back under the fierce glare of the presumed homeowner. She swallowed and straightened her shoulders. If she could face the aristocracy, she could face the farmer. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for a ride into the city.”

  Massive in height and breadth, the man moved forward and filled the doorway. Teresa worked to control her rising panic. What had she gotten herself into?

  The man furrowed his brow and tapped a finger to his forehead. That was when she noticed his eyes. Milky white and glazed over, they stared above her.

  “Sorry, Fräulein, I don’t have one.”

  “Oh, I see.” Teresa gnawed at her lip. What was she to do now? They had stumbled onto a blind homeowner. She would never reach Gustav, and Hans would never find his parents. Despair threatened to consume her until the man moved and she caught a glimpse inside. The one-room cabin was small and a mass of utter chaos. Furniture was turned on its side. Pots littered the floor. Rotted food rested on the butcher block.

  Pondering what she saw, Teresa had an idea. “Maybe if you help me, I can help you.”

  “I already told you I don’t have a way to help you.” The blind man crossed his arms and tilted his head toward her voice.

  “I’m sure with the proper persuasion you can think of something.” She made her voice as sweet as possible.

  “I don’t get your meaning.” His posture relaxed, but only a little.

  “I would say you have bruises from bumping into things. Not only that, but when items fall you cannot find them again. Am I right?”

  “I just lost my sight recently and I’ve had some trouble adjusting.” He drew out his words as if his curiosity was piqued.

  She swallowed and prayed her plan would work. “How about I straighten up your place and fix more permanent positions for your things and then work on the firewood outside so you can gather it easier, and in return you find a way to get me to town.”

  “But I already told you I don’t have horse.” His arms slackened and fell to his side, as if he was warming to her idea.

  “Aye, you did. But I believe someone is bringing you food stores. Maybe you could kindly request they give a fellow Protestant a ride into the city.” She hoped by revealing her faith that she hadn’t doomed her chances.

  The blind man carefully considered her proposal and agreed. Teresa helped the man inside and urged him to sit. Quickly she rushed back to Hans and explained the plan. While she was inside banging around he would work outside. In no time the place was a haven for any person, especially a blind one.

  The inhabitant offered to let them stay for dinner and Teresa prepared the meal. Over the afternoon Teresa told the blind man about Hans, and by dinner he was invited inside. However, when nightfall came Teresa slept outside with Hans under the stars. The man inside didn’t protest.

  Two days later, their chance to leave came. A neighbor pulling a wagon load of supplies visited. The blind man insisted his “friends” needed to reach the city posthaste. The neighbor complained mightily, but in the end he gave in and allowed them passage on his wagon.

  Teresa and Hans climbed aboard as the wagon lurched forward.

  Chapter Twelve

  Gustav had circulated the court of the prince-bishop. The feelers he put out about Rudolf Raeder had availed him nothing.

  Sitting in Max’s solar, Gustav rubbed his aching temples. Heavy sighs escaped repeatedly from his mouth. Not only had they lost Hans, but he’d lost Teresa as well.

  His wife had disappeared. The magistrate had offered no hope of finding her. All her friends from the past claimed they had grown apart. They said Teresa had become withdrawn and elusive. Those who offered to meet with her for a meal were immediately denied her company through an impersonal letter.

  The one servant Gustav was able to track down only spoke of his last day of employ. He did make sure to inform Gustav of how Teresa had neglected to pay him on numerous occasions; the implication that Gustav should reimburse his wages had hung in the air.

  Gustav had paid the servant and he had gone on his way. The leads to his wife were as dry as the Jordan riverbed. With no idea where to look, Gustav reverted to visiting their tiny cottage home. The window holes were dark and no smoke rolled from the chimney.

  Inside, the house was just as depressing. The thick tapestries that once hung proudly from the wall were gone. Gowns that had once filled Teresa’s closet were missing. There was little left of the life he and Teresa had created before his departure.

  Gustav’s fervent hope was that Teresa would remember her sister-in-law and come to the estate to find him. Other than the wedding, they had visited the Schmidt home on only one occasion. It was to celebrate the birth of what would be Olga and Max’s last child.

  Due to her age, Olga’s delivery was rough and she had been unable to travel. Friends and family members gathered around her for weeks, showering the baby with gifts. Within the first couple of days of the baby’s birth, Teresa and Gustav stayed with the family for an entire afternoon. After holding the baby in her arms, Teresa had declared it was time to go. Fresh tears had covered her eyes on their journey home.

  Gustav’s guilt over not giving her children had been overwhelming. They’d been married two years and they had not conceived. Later Olga and Max made the decision to leave Germany and travel to France. Their religious ideals made this event a must. At thirteen Hans had refused to leave his homeland. Herr Rudolf Raeder, a distant friend of the family, who had spent time with the boy on several occasions had offered him a place to stay until his parents’ return.

  Who knows why Olga and Max had given in? Gustav never thought they were the type to just hand over their children, but in this one insistence they had. Teresa and Gustav had argued about it for days. She had been upset by the decision, calling it the biggest mistake of their lives. He had agreed with her but refused to question his sister.

  Then, a year later, the opportunity had arisen for him to join them. Before meeting Teresa he had worked for the religious movement in Germany. With Augsburg moving toward religious unity and other parts of Europe still struggling, Gustav had felt the call to help his brothers and sisters in Christ.

  Teresa had refused to go with him. She wouldn’t leave Augsburg. Assuring her the time he needed to fulfill his mission was short, he had left. He never dreamed it would take two years to return.

  Leaning back in the chair, he studied a painting above the stone fireplace. It was a portrait of one of Maximilian’s wealthy relatives. The entire house was filled with such treasures. Gustav
didn’t know enough about his own family to celebrate them in such a manner. He’d spent his life growing up on the streets of the grotto struggling to keep himself and Olga alive. All he had was Olga and Teresa.

  Darkness descended. Soon the maids would light the candles. Shadows would dance over the tapestry-covered walls. Night would come and he would go to his guest bedroom and sleep. Nothing here belonged to him. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be with Teresa. He wanted to beg her forgiveness for leaving and staying away so long. He wanted to apologize for whatever had happened to her in his absence that caused her to tie him to a chair. He would do all this and more, if he could just find her.

  “Herr Braun, I’m here to light the candles.”

  Gustav nodded in the maid’s direction.

  “Beautiful weather today. I enjoyed it immensely.” She flitted about the room.

  “Hmm,” he said.

  “You should go into the garden more. The scents are like a small piece of heaven. Almost as good as being in the kitchen.”

  The maid smiled and Gustav returned the expression.

  She stopped and stared at a wall covered in a full length portrait. “The house is so full of sadness of late. I do so hope Hans comes home soon. That boy was the life of this entire family. Hard for me to believe he is old enough for university.”

  “Barely,” Gustav muttered.

  “Aye, he is just barely there. I’m bettin’ he thinks he is already a man. Seems they are so young when the world insists they are growed up.” She shook her head as she continued to light the candles and close the curtains before quitting the room.

  Gustav strolled to the fireplace. He laid his head against the wooden mantle. The heat from the fire wafted onto his face. He closed his eyes. Vivid images of Teresa leaning over him as he lay on the floor tied to the chair and her terse explanation for why she couldn’t release him floated through his mind.

  His heart hammered in his chest as he rushed to his room, grabbed his bag, and pulled out one of her letters. He almost ripped the pages in his haste. His hand trembled as he skimmed the words.

  My Dearest Husband,

  Today I was invited to a celebration. I struggled with accepting the invitation. The celebration was in honor of the prince-bishop and his goal to rename Augsburg for the Catholic community.

  In the end, I accepted. The house is lonely of late. I imagine that I see you in every corner, but when I investigate you are not there.

  But I digress. The celebration included the highest people of society. I’m sure your talent as a well-known designer was what secured me the invitation. I did you proud. I wore the gown you made for me. The one of dark blue velvet held together in the back by silk ribbons. I know you know of which one I speak.

  I received many compliments on my attire. A gentleman by the name of Victor Wulf followed me for a considerable length of time.

  Gustav lowered the letter and gulped. He knew that name sounded familiar! The man who worked for Herr Raeder knew of his wife. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine where Teresa might be and prayed she was safe.

  ****

  “This is ridiculous!” yelled Teresa over the noise of clucking hens.

  Hans agreed with the sentiment, but was so happy to be exploring he would have willingly suffered any inconvenience.

  The neighbor of the blind fellow had brought them a few houses from his own and dropped them off. “I’m sure this family will take you in,” was all he’d uttered before pulling out and leaving them.

  The family had indeed been glad to give them shelter until the following day when the livestock wagon came through. Now they bumped along the dirt roads on the way to Augsburg in a wagon bed loaded with chickens. Goats trailed behind the wagon hooked by a rope. Constant clucking and bleating was all they heard until Teresa groaned with exasperation.

  “It can’t be much farther now,” said Hans, almost bouncing with excitement.

  “Are you sure you know where we are going?” asked Teresa, plucking feathers from her thick, luxurious hair.

  Heat rushed to his cheeks as he studied her obvious beauty; quickly he changed his gaze to the passing scenery to remove the sight from his mind. “Yes, I do. Besides, your home is no doubt being watched. My home is the only option.”

  “And what about yours? Do you think we are just going to ride up to the front door and present ourselves without running into Herr Wulf or Herr Raeder?”

  “I told you—“

  “That Herr Raeder was not involved, I know. And if you are wrong, how do you plan to get to your house without being spotted?” She waited, her arms folded over her chest.

  “Leave it to me.” He grinned broadly. He would impress the young mistress if it was the last thing he did.

  Hans had the entire plan worked out in his mind. It wouldn’t be easy but it would work. Several entrances led into the Schmidt manse. The estate grounds were covered in a plethora of trees and flora. They would sneak in through one of the lesser known routes. Once inside it would just be a matter of finding a servant familiar with him and then it would be over. He would see his parents.

  The thrill of being home raced through his body. If he closed his eyes he could just make out how his room was decorated or see the view from his window. He had two sisters and two brothers, all younger than him. How much had they changed? Would they remember him? Perhaps they would be angry that he hadn’t journeyed with them on their trip west. Would they understand his reasons when he didn’t understand them himself?

  “You’re thinking again,” said Teresa cocking a brow.

  “Yes.” He clasped his hands, glad the driver didn’t need further directions and he could just be left to think.

  “Why do you worry? Your parents will be glad to have you back.”

  “I hope so. Many things have happened in the past three years. I’m not the boy they left behind. I’m sixteen. I’m a man ready to start my life.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” her voice held a hint of jesting.

  “You poke fun, but it is true.”

  “I know you want to be a pirate,” Teresa said, a smile covering her face.

  “Not a pirate! Don’t say such things. I want to work for the crown and retrieve goods stolen from the queen.”

  “Oh, a pirate but not a pirate, I see. Makes sense to me.”

  “You are just playing with me, right?”

  She patted his hand. “Aye. Truth is, I think it is a fine, adventurous idea. My husband was something of an adventurer.”

  “Oh, what happened to him?” Hans faced her, holding securely to the bouncing wagon.

  Teresa grimaced and turned away. “He went on an adventure.”

  “Did he come back?” Sometimes talking to Teresa was like pulling teeth.

  “He did.”

  “And…”

  She looked at his face and matter-of-factly stated, “And I tied him to a chair.”

  Hans chortled. “You did?”

  “Yes, I tied him to a chair. You have to understand, I thought he was someone else and when I wanted to untie him,” she shrugged, “I ran out of time to rectify the situation.”

  “I don’t understand.” He narrowed his eyes.

  “I had a visitor.”

  “Did you untie him for the visitor?”

  “I thought he’d be safer if I didn’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You see, I’m in a spot of trouble, and when Victor knocked on the door I assumed leaving my husband tied to the chair would make him appear at odds with me.”

  “Do you mean your husband could still be at your house tied to a chair?”

  Teresa’s mouth gaped open and she covered it with her hand. “Oh, no don’t say such things!”

  For the next couple of miles Teresa fretted. “I’m sure that he made it out. I–I was certain I heard him at the manse,” she mumbled, but still she begged to visit her home first to make sure her husband wasn’t indeed still tied to the chair, but Hans
refused.

  “We will go to my house and then my father will send someone to check on your husband.”

  “But—“

  He held up his palm. “There are no buts involved in this. The fact is, going to your home is too dangerous. From your description on one side of the house there is a row of trees for someone to lay in and wait. The other sides are out in the open and exposed, offering no way to enter without detection. And you have already been confiscated from the premises once. So we will play it my way or no way at all.”

  Teresa’s brow arched. “I believe one day you will be a great ship’s captain.”

  Hans smiled at the praise, praying he didn’t let her down.

  Chapter Thirteen

  They arrived at Hans’ family home sometime after dark. They stepped from the wagon and Teresa stopped, her brows and lips tilted downward.

  “I–I…this place looks familiar.”

  Hans grasped her hand and tugged. “We need to be quiet. There may be guards patrolling the grounds.”

  She nodded and Hans directed her around a treacherous but deserted path. He went first and Teresa followed. Curses fell from her lips as he led her over roots and through briars, most of which she caught against her arms or face.

  “Are you just trying to run me into every bush?”

  Hans snickered under his breath. “Sorry. I can barely see.”

  “I might be able to stop some of it from hitting me, but you are so tall you’re blocking the moonlight.”

  The cheekiness of the woman made his toes curl. Her husband was a lucky man.

  By the time they reached the house, both of them were sweating and sporting several bruises. The back door was locked and Hans lifted his head and fought the urge to scream.

  “Not good, right?” she whispered, her gaze flitting about.