Letters in the Grove

by Felicia Rogers

  Gustav reached forward and plucked twigs from her hair. “We will make it through this.”

  She nodded.

  The trek through the woods without a trail was a new experience. In order to reach France they needed to travel west. The descent of the sun was all the help they had with navigation.

  Changing the subject from her worries, she asked, “What have you been about these past two years? Of late your letters haven’t been very, umm, informative.”

  Gustav’s voice seemed distant as he replied, “The same as always. I’ve been working for Jean Broussard and the Huguenot movement.”

  “I read something about the plot to assassinate the admiral. Wasn’t there a man and a woman who helped thwart the plan?”

  “Aye. That would be Lucille Lombard and Bryce Cameron.”

  “Interesting. I thought perhaps they were married.” The anger in her voice couldn’t be stymied. When he set out on his adventure, she hadn’t wanted to leave Augsburg and go with him, but she also hadn’t wanted him to leave her either. No matter what she’d said when he’d asked her permission.

  “Nay, they weren’t married, although I believe they may be now.”

  “Oh.” She paused. “How did they meet?”

  “The story Bryce told was that he was on his way home from a stint at a friend’s home and he fell into the river and almost drowned. It seems Lucille, or Lucy as she preferred to be called, just happened by in time to rescue him. Quite romantic, really.”

  “Aye, quite.” She swatted at bugs buzzing around her head and tired to ignore the pain growing in her heart.

  “They were extremely helpful in saving the admiral. I had hit a brick wall in my own search for the truth. Charles Dubois, a person on the other side, wasn’t as forthcoming with the critical information I needed.”

  “Oh, so you are blaming this man for not giving you what you should have found out on your own?”

  The sound of footsteps stopping behind her alerted her to Gustav’s anger, but she kept moving. Let him catch up, she didn’t care.

  “That is not what I meant,” he sighed and the footsteps resumed. “The truth is I don’t believe the issue is completely resolved. I tried to tell Jean, but he refuses to listen. He would rather live in a dream world where everything is well than face the reality that the admiral could still be in danger. Charles Dubois may have taken the blame for what happened, but I believe there was more to the plot.”

  “So you believe someone else was behind the assassination attempt?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Why do you believe this?”

  He hesitated.

  “You don’t have to tell me if you think I’m not smart enough to understand.” Pain laced her heart. Did he hear it in her voice? Would he do the Christian thing and ask her forgiveness? Could she do the Christian thing and accept?

  Gustav grabbed her upper arm and spun her around. “What is wrong with you? I’ve never insinuated you were not intelligent. I only paused because I was considering your question. We aren’t moving another step until you explain.”

  The incredulous look that covered Gustav’s face was worth a thousand words. Teresa jerked her arm free, turned on her heel, and moved away.

  “And why do you believe there was something more to the plot?” she asked again, ignoring his early statement.

  Gustav’s reply was punctuated by crunching grass. “To put it simply, the majority of us believed that King Henry of France was involved. Not directly of course, but through his minions.”

  “I’ve heard much about his atrocities against French Protestants. Ordering people to take their land, and cut out their tongues. That just means you should have stayed in Augsburg. Since the peace treaty was signed we’ve had little trouble.”

  Teresa bit the inside of her cheek after voicing the lie. On paper the German princes had agreed to allow each prince to choose between Catholicism and Protestantism. After the choice was made, those of the not chosen faith were given time to leave the area. Yet even with this compromise there were major problems. While Lutherans and Catholics were sheltered, those of more reformed practices such as Calvinists or Anabaptists were left unprotected.

  “You speak of the settlement of Augsburg.”

  “Aye, I do.”

  “It would be well with the world if every country were as generous as Germany.”

  Teresa gulped. The settlement had started an underground movement. Those who needed protection had hired spies. Would her own part in helping spread messages cause him to admire her or resent her?

  “Perhaps in the future it will be so. But as of now, people fear those things they do not understand and it seems giving man freedom to find his own path creates fear in many,” said Teresa.

  The light waned and she found a clearing. “How about we camp here? Much longer and we will be traveling in the dark.”

  “Aye, good idea. I will stow our supplies and erect a shelter.”

  “I will search for firewood.”

  They worked well together. Finished, they gathered around the fire and sucked on a piece of dried meat. Teresa enjoyed the flavors coursing through her mouth.

  “I’ve told you about my life during the time I was away, now it is your turn to tell me about yours.”

  Teresa shifted uncomfortably.

  “What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  “That! That shifting movement. The thing you do when you are avoiding my question.”

  Teresa arched her brow.

  “I have not been away from you so long that have forgotten the telltale signs you make when you wish to keep me in the dark.”

  “I wish no such thing. It is just, well, my life exploits are dull compared to yours. That’s all.” She averted her gaze to the fire and prayed he didn’t notice.

  “I see. So you have spent the last two years of my absence in our home staring at the fire, neglecting the house, the yard, and all the other necessary upkeep.”

  “Nay, I have not!” Teresa stood and stomped her foot.

  “There is the fire I like to see. Now tell me the truth. We have no window panes, the house is collapsing, and our horses are gone.”

  She resettled on the log, angry at herself for betraying her thoughts and feelings. “Things have happened that I don’t care to speak of.”

  “Teresa Braun, I am your husband. I will not tolerate—“

  “You will not tolerate what? Do you even have the right to call me wife? Two years is a long time to leave me on my own with nothing more than letters to keep me company.” Teresa crossed her arms over her chest and thrust her chin forward. Gustav didn’t answer. He stood, dusted off his britches, and entered the tree line. Dropping her arms to her side, Teresa worried her lip.

  Letters of love and enduring faith came to mind. Words of hope and promises of a future together had been written in every word of the missives she had received.

  Why had she goaded him? Why had the letters not been enough? Visually searching the direction in which he’d disappeared, she quivered. What had she done? She should have just been honest. Told him of her part in the German resistance. How even as she passed along his love letters she’d also passed along messages for a measure of coin, then another and yet another, until she found herself coding her own messages. He, of all people, would understand.

  Why did it seem easier to push him away? Because she feared he would leave her again. What did she have to offer? Once the excitement died and Victor Wulf no longer chased her, what would be there for them? A boring life of going to market and keeping up a home? That would never satisfy Gustav’s interest. He lived for excitement. The thrill of the chase. The pleasure of a job well done. Her heart hammered in her chest and her palms sweated. Tears trailed along her cheeks. Faith that he would stay with her after the adventure ended was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Gustav needed to get away. Stalking far from camp, he found a cleared area and pace
d. Would Teresa ever understand his motives?

  Raking his hand through his hair, he raised his head to the sky and sighed. The reason he had left Germany and traveled to France was to protect Olga from Max’s potential foolishness and to protect every person yearning for religious freedom, to put the tormentors in their place, to rectify the wrong done against his parents for their religious preference. The sound of vengeance bounced around in his mind. He swallowed. He’d tried to take God’s role.

  How could he have been so misguided? Teresa was right. He’d failed as a Christian and as her husband. Two years was a long time. He should have warned her of his return and told her the real reason he’d left. Fear. Fear for his sister’s life. Fear that he couldn’t be the husband she deserved. Fear that he couldn’t fulfill her dreams to be a mother.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. If he had these fears, could she not have some of her own? He should offer her more grace. The letters they had shared. The words of love that had followed across the page in her decorative script. He was sure they had been true for her as they had been for him. But there had to be a time of reconciliation.

  His heart hammered in his chest and he slumped onto a hollow tree stump. Was it possible that even as she wrote that she had found someone else to love? The thoughts of anyone else loving his precious engel caused his heart to pound more rapidly against his ribs. Even while away she had been the one thing he thought of most. Memories of their married life had been his saving grace, the thing that had led him home. Now all that could be gone.

  “Gustav?” she whispered.

  He lifted his head.

  “I owe you an apology. As my husband you deserve to know what I’ve been doing since you left.”

  “Teresa, it is all right, you don’t have to—“

  “Aye, but I do. But not now. Right now we need to locate a way to France. When we are safe in Max’s home, I will tell you everything.”

  He nodded and thanked God for his wife’s forgiveness.

  The corners of her lips lifted as she turned on her heel. Gustav jumped up and followed. Supper was a solemn affair. The food stores they had brought were dwindling and they needed to find a fresh supply.

  The next morning heavy dew covered the ground. Teresa shivered, her teeth clacking together. Now a permanent shelter needed to be added to their list of needs.

  Travel became harder and harder as the woods thickened. His feet throbbed with each step and he gasped in pain.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, coming alongside him.

  “Aye. I think I just rubbed off another part of my flesh.”

  “Agreed. I believe I now have blisters on my blisters.”

  He surveyed their sparse location. Rain sprinkled and plopped quietly on the leafy trees. Cold gusts of wind lifted tendrils of Teresa’s damp hair. “Teresa, we need to find shelter. We need to rest.”

  Teresa nodded but her agreement with his assessment meant little. A place to bed down was of the highest priority, but they couldn’t make one just appear.

  A few hours later and Gustav felt like a sailor who had been at sea too long. Then it appeared—not the glimpse of a glowing green island filled with lush vegetation but the walls of a rotting cabin. His spirit soared as he rushed past Teresa and collapsed at the feet of the porch steps. Tempted to kiss the splintered wood, he stopped himself.

  “I think you’re excited.”

  “Aye, I am.”

  They walked through the opening that at one time housed a front door. Hard-packed earth designated the floor. Stones resembling a once formidable fireplace covered one wall. A dismantled bed frame graced one corner while a set of empty cabinets rested in the other. The building was a mere shell, but God had answered his prayers.

  Finding a dry spot on the floor, Gustav sat and removed his shoes. Wiggling his toes, a satisfied sigh escaped his lips.

  “May I join you?” asked Teresa, a grin covering her face.

  “By all means.”

  She sat across from him and removed her own shoes. They leaned back on the palms of their hands and enjoyed the lack of movement.

  “Do you think the cabin is still inhabited?” she asked.

  “Maybe, but not by humans.”

  “Oh.” She shot furtive glances around the room.

  “Do not worry, mein engel, I will protect you.”

  A red hue rose from her neck to her cheeks and she studied her hands.

  “I believe I can repair the bed. The vines outside will suffice temporarily as rope and we can use one of your gowns as a mattress.” Teresa didn’t comment and he continued, “Of course the gown won’t be quite large enough to make a complete mattress, but it will be more comfortable than the floor.”

  She frowned. “What are we to eat? The dried meat is almost gone.”

  He tapped his chin. “Aye, this is a problem. I do have a knife. Perhaps we could set some traps. If there was water about, we could fish.”

  “Live off the land?”

  “Aye, live off the land.” Gustav expected complaining and was pleasantly surprised when it didn’t occur.

  Work to make the cabin hospitable for longer than necessary was hard to curtail. Gustav kept telling himself this was only temporary. They had to reach Caen. They needed to find Olga and Max. Teresa and he were no longer safe in Germany. But all these things paled in comparison to just being in Teresa’s presence, to sharing a living space with her like days gone by.

  Gustav gathered the vines and worked on threading them through the wooden bed frame in a stable manner. Teresa gathered leaves and stuffed one of her gowns, tying the ends together to hold in the stuffing. Now they had a bed suitable for one.

  In the search for food they found a stream. Fish were plentiful and they were able to spear several within minutes.

  Using a spit over an open fire, Gustav roasted the fish. Teresa disappeared. The fish still roasting, Gustav went in search of his wife.

  The sight of her almost took his breath away. She stood in the river bare from the waist up. Wet strands of hair lay across the front of her chest, blocking her most intimate parts. She dipped her entire body into the water and rose to her neck. Furiously, she lathered her hair, rinsing it before conquering her body.

  Water levels in this part of the river were low, so she must have been sitting on her knees to keep from rising up further.

  Gustav was mesmerized. Gaze locked on the beauty that was his wife, he neglected everything around him.

  ****

  “It never ceases to amaze me how one woman thinks she can escape me.”

  Teresa struggled against Victor, but it was of little use. He arrested her arm and dragged her from the water. Once on the edge he threw a gown in her direction and turned his back.

  “Do not think to run away. Your companion is already in my custody.”

  Teresa had known Gustav watched her bathing. It was why she had sunk into the murky water. The sight of Victor behind him had been a horror she’d been unable to verbalize. Then it was too late. Gustav fell over in a slump and Victor’s minions escorted him away from her sight.

  “What have you done with him?” Her voice trembled as she struggled to pull the gown over her wet flesh.

  “It is not your concern. Now dress so we may return to Augsburg.”

  Words of protest formed, but she snapped her lips shut. Aggravating Victor would only make matters worse. Nay, she needed his complete trust if she wished to escape.

  Dressed, she stared at him in open defiance just as he would expect. Roughly he grabbed her chin in his hand and squeezed until tears spilled from her eyes.

  Between clenched teeth, he said, “Valuable time has been wasted finding you. I hope you are worth it.”

  Releasing his hold, she touched her tender jaw.

  “You will follow me to the horses. Then you will ride behind your companion.” The last word was said with disdain. “And if he falls he will be dragged. We will not stop.”

  Teresa
forced her legs to move forward. When they reached the others in the party, she was stunned to find Gustav leaning over the horse’s pommel. Only by the grace of God was he holding on.

  Running toward him, she climbed astride and wrapped him in an embrace. Her arms barely reached around his muscular frame. Struggling to find the reins, she was surprised when someone handed them to her. She turned to whisper thank you, but the helper had disappeared.

  The party set a grueling pace. Within minutes Teresa’s arms and back burned. The pressure of Gustav’s incapacitated form leaning from side-to-side and then backward onto her chest was almost more than she could take. Several times she thought they would fall, but at the last moment she righted herself.

  As the afternoon waned, Teresa wondered if the group would ever stop moving. Her eyelids drooped from exhaustion and every fiber of her body ached from strain.

  “We stop here,” Victor announced harshly.

  Teresa was never so grateful in her life. However, the stopping of the horse brought new issues. How was she to dismount without disturbing Gustav?

  With each consecutive step, Teresa had wondered what they had done to her husband. While in the river it had appeared as if they had only hit him on the head, but wouldn’t he have awoken by now? Why was it taking so long?

  Teresa attempted to shift Gustav’s weight to a safer position. When his limp body failed to cooperate, she despaired of ever dismounting.

  “Let me help.”

  A man appeared beside her. He held Gustav in place as she climbed from the saddle. Once she was out of the way, he lifted Gustav and laid him flat on the ground.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  The man nodded and slipped away.

  Gustav’s pale complexion appeared almost ghostly in the moonlight. She placed her ear to his lips and was pleased by a breath of warm air. Leaning against a tree trunk, she lowered her lids and studied the group of horsemen.

  As with most travelers, they unloaded their gear and then started a fire. Food stores were pulled out and each man ate from his own supplies. When finished they lay upon bedrolls and either went to sleep or stared at the sky. No one spoke a word or offered one thing to her.