“But …”
“He can handle it, dearie. He is God.”
Suddenly a dam of emotion ruptured. With tears gathering in her eyes, Kristin bowed her head. She prayed, although if she would have spoken the words aloud, they wouldn’t have made any sense. Still, she knew the Lord understood each and every utterance of her broken heart.
Mor, Poppa … she cried for her deceased parents and brothers. Uncle Lars … she mourned at his mistreatment of her and for selling Poppa’s treasured gold pocket watch. The Sundbergs … they abandoned her when she needed them most. Sam … he’d been her hero. Now he too left her.
“No one cares about me.” Kristin managed to eke out the words through a sob.
“God cares. He loves you, dearie. Accept His love. Tell Him you do.”
Kristin knew she didn’t deserve to be loved by a holy God. She had learned that much in her confirmation classes. But had she ever accepted God’s love?
Please, God, I want to be loved by You. You are the only One who can help me, guide and direct me … take this pain from me.
Minutes passed and Kristin quieted.
“With His stripes, we are healed.”
Miss Betsy’s words were a soothing balm. Kristin’s tears came to an end. She dried her eyes with the ends of her apron.
“Better?”
“Ja. Better.” She had to admit, she felt unburdened. “Such self-pity. How shameful of me.”
“No. You are a young lady who has weathered some storms of life. But they brought you to this point. And now you can continue onward with joy, knowing God walks alongside you.”
Kristin’s newfound feelings were unexpected and foreign. Yet they were strong and sure. “I have never been more certain of God’s presence as I am now.”
Miss Betsy smiled, and all the wrinkles in her cheeks narrowed and multiplied. Kristin saw joy reflected in the older woman’s countenance.
“God is good.” Miss Betsy’s succession of little nods threatened her hairpins. She hugged Kristin around the shoulders. “Now, go upstairs and wash your face. Rest a bit.” She stood. “In a while we will walk to the café and have our noon dinner.”
Sam walked slowly down the tree-lined lane. A gust of autumn wind stole the last of the colored leaves from their branches. The sun felt warm on his face, although the chill in the air made him glad he’d worn his overcoat when he left the Evanses’s stately home this morning.
For most of the day Sam had been at Mr. Evans’s office researching the documents he possessed. He patted the papers tucked inside his dress coat’s breast pocket. Who would have thought? Never had he dreamed …
His steps quickened. Enthusiasm pumped through his veins. But then Sam checked himself and relaxed his stride. He was in no rush to return to the Evanses’s home this afternoon. He lifted his gaze to utter a silent prayer and noticed that the late October sky looked as blue as … as blue as Kristin’s eyes. It was a day worthy of a good long stroll.
Thoughts of Kristin resurfaced, and Sam decided that thinking about her brought out the romantic in him, unlike a certain other young lady whose company he had been forced to keep lately.
Which was why he chose to walk so slowly back to the Evanses’. He couldn’t abide more simpering parlor talk before dinner tonight.
What’s more, he’d promised to give Mr. Evans his answer about the job position today.
Truly, there wasn’t ever a doubt in Sam’s mind as to what he’d decide. But then his conversation with Soaring Eagle last week proved confirmation.
Again Sam patted the folded papers in his breast pocket. The gift. The amazing gift!
As a token of gratitude, Oshkosh had bestowed on Sam a deed for some acreage located between Appleton and Manitowoc, east of Lake Winnebago—or Ouinipegouek, as the Fox Indians called it. The name meant people of the stinking water, as Lake Winnebago was reported to have a strong fish odor during the summer months. But, looking at the map, Sam’s property was far enough away that any stench wouldn’t be troublesome.
Sam had told Soaring Eagle to relay his thanks. However, due to the Indians’ land dispute, he’d had Mr. Evans’s clerk check into the deed. It came back free and clear. The best Sam could figure, the Menominee chief acquired the land in some sort of trade agreement with the original owner.
But now Sam owned the property. It was all registered in his name and a copy scribed for the state’s records. He planned to politely refuse Mr. Evans’s job offer, which wouldn’t be easy, as Mr. Evans wasn’t a man who enjoyed taking no for an answer. It had been the primary reason Sam hadn’t declined his offer sooner, not that he was lily-livered. Simply, he hadn’t wanted to risk his father’s reputation.
But there was no help for it at this point. Sam had prayed—and prayed hard. He knew what he had to do.
And then there was Miss Samantha Evans, the Madison socialite. It hadn’t taken long for Sam to figure out that she was husband hunting. Mr. Evans’s offer, therefore, served as a means to keep his daughter well provided for, should Sam have been overcome by her feminine wiles.
Which he hadn’t been. In all truth, he found the young lady a bit too forward for his liking. He much preferred to be the one doing the … hunting. What’s more, he’d already found what he was looking for in a wife. He knew that now more than ever.
So he would take his leave tomorrow. He’d spend a few days surveying his new property before heading to Green Bay. In spite of the fact that he wasn’t lawyer material, he’d be happy to continue representing the Menominee in any way he could. He relayed the sentiment to Soaring Eagle and added that he’d share his land with any Wisconsin natives who desired to hunt or fish on it, so long as their actions brought no danger to him or his family.
A family. Yes, that’s what Sam had in mind. Perhaps come springtime he’d be ready to marry, build a house …
Sam realized he was about to pass the Evans’s home. Pausing for a brief and silent prayer for wisdom, he took to the stairs. At the top he breathed in deeply, opened the front door, and stepped inside.
CHAPTER 19
RIVULETS OF SUNSHINE spilled through the window as Kristin checked her reflection in the looking glass. She tied her light-brown bonnet loosely beneath her chin then pulled on her white gloves.
“Are you ready for church, dearie?”
Whirling around, Kristin smiled at Miss Betsy. “Ready.” She admired her friend’s dark green brocade dress. One of Kristin’s ivory crocheted collars encircled the neckline. “How lovely you look.”
“Why, thank you. Now that November is here and the weather has turned, I can wear this dress. It is much too warm for summertime.”
“Which reminds me …” Kristin strode to where Mor’s knitted shawl lay draped over the end of the bed and pulled it around her shoulders.
A warm smile spread across Miss Betsy’s face. “Your crocheted dress collars, doilies, and knitted shawls are selling well in the shop. So affordable and yet so elegant. I am pleased.”
“Oh, ja, I am too.” Kristin hugged the wrapper Mor had made more tightly to her, glad to earn a bit of money for herself. It made her feel less dependent on others but, at the same time, more dependent on God. She now saw her abilities as gifts from Him. “And I have my mother to thank. She taught me how to spin, weave, knit, crochet, sew …”
“There’s no end to your talents.” Jovial crinkles around Miss Betsy’s eyes increased. “But we will be late if we do not hurry.”
They took to the steps that led down to the hallway between the shop and side door. There, they exited.
“What a beautiful morning!” Miss Betsy inhaled deeply.
Kristin glanced at the sky. A few white puffy clouds drifted by. She too breathed in—at least as much as her stays allowed.
But then she caught sight of a dark brown gelding. A patch of white marked his nose and a black mane fell along his muscular neck. Staring at the horse, she stepped forward, toward the wooden walk. She’d swear the Sundbergs had a horse
just like that …
Ugh!
She slammed into something—or someone—and the air left her lungs.
He caught her arms. “Kristin!” A wide smile. “We always seem to run into each other.”
She felt mesmerized by the boldly handsome blond with eyes as deep blue as the sea. She struggled to inhale, wondering how many times she’d seen his face in her dreams.
“Sam …”
Releasing her, he swept off his hat. “So good to see you, Kristin.”
Her lips quivered, but no words formed.
“Welcome back, Sam.” Miss Betsy’s voice caused Kristin to blink.
Regaining her composure, dozens of questions filled her mind.
Kristin deliberately stepped back. She straightened her shawl and glimpsed the puzzled dip in Sam’s brow. But, for the life of her, she didn’t know what to think—or say. Last she’d heard some woman’s fragrance tickled his nose.
“We are just on our way to church,” Miss Betsy continued.
“I know. That is why I am here. I thought I might escort you two beautiful ladies to service this morning.”
Kristin couldn’t look up at him, but she felt Sam’s penetrating gaze. Her cheeks turned fire-hot from his stare. And yet she couldn’t help wondering why he didn’t attend the Norwegian church with his family.
“Oh, the more the merrier. Right, Kristin?” Miss Betsy gave her arm a tug.
“Ja, of course …”
They started walking, and all the way down the block, around the corner, and up the next street, Kristin couldn’t seem to untangle her thoughts. Why had Sam come back? Didn’t he accept the job his father’s friend offered him?
And what about that other woman?
Once at church and inside the sanctuary, Kristin followed Miss Betsy into their usual pew. Sam removed his hat and seated himself on the end, next to Kristin. More worshipers entered the opposite way, and soon Kristin found her arm pressed up tight against Sam’s. Of course, Miss Betsy could scoot over if she wished.
Kristin discreetly adjusted the side of her bonnet and sent Sam furtive glances. His skin had a healthy glow to it, and the set of his clean-shaven jaw exuded strength and confidence. How unfair that he should appear relaxed when she felt so distressed. And why did it feel so uncomfortably warm in church this morning?
Sam shifted, and with her next breath, she inhaled the familiar scent of the soap that Mrs. Sundberg used to wash clothes. Like the deep of the woods, an earthy and piney blend.
Reverend Smith strolled to the pulpit and began his message. Kristin forced herself to concentrate. She still didn’t understand much English, although she could pick out more and more words. But today, any effort to do so seemed in vain. She willed the tension from her shoulders and silently prayed.
How do I behave, Lord? Happy to see Sam, because I am, or angered by his … philandering?
The latter had threatened almost as soon as she’d set eyes on him.
Kristin’s thoughts shifted to Uncle Lars and Mr. Sundberg. Two angry men, insulted, offended, and quick to judge and condemn. She didn’t want to be like them. Therefore she would accept Sam’s presence, be cordial, and when the appropriate time came, she would inquire over this morning’s visit.
Unless he announced his impending marriage first. Maybe he wanted to be the one to tell her the news.
At long last, the service came to a close. Kristin couldn’t wait to sidle out of the pew. However, several of Sam’s friends hailed him in the vestibule, and he blocked her way out the door. Turning in the other direction, Miss Betsy stared up at the ceiling beams. She wasn’t going anywhere fast.
Kristin resigned herself to the waiting.
“It is only polite that we wait for Sam,” Miss Betsy leaned over and whispered in her ear. “After all, he escorted us here.”
“Ja, I suppose you are right.”
“Of course I am.” She patted Kristin’s arm.
Several ladies paused to chat with Kristin and Miss Betsy. Soon after their conversations dwindled, Sam’s friends also left the church.
Sam turned to Kristin and Miss Betsy. His eyes darkened with apology. “Sorry to have kept you both waiting. Shall we go eat lunch? My treat.”
“Marvelous! We accept.” Miss Betsy smiled broadly.
After flicking her employer a glance of mild annoyance, Kristin turned and faced Sam. Her heart raced when her gaze met his. And here she’d taken great pains to avoid this reaction. “Thank you, Sam.” She made sure to use English.
“Bra, bra—good, good.” He looked both pleased and amused. He offered Kristin one arm and Miss Betsy the other. “I am a fortunate man.”
“And so sincere,” Kristin quipped. Lifting her chin, she tried to hide the laugh that bubbled forth.
“You are as plucky as ever, I see.”
“Pluckier,” Miss Betsy attested.
Kristin held back further comment, knowing she was outnumbered.
They strode to an establishment near Lake Michigan called The Fish Bone. Kristin had never been there before. She glimpsed the line of what she assumed were sailing men seated at the long bar, and her step faltered.
Sam coaxed her along. “This is a respectable place, trust me.”
She did, although she couldn’t help casting a quick look at Miss Betsy. Gauging from her expression, Kristin didn’t get the sense of any impropriety.
“Mr. Owens makes a tasty lunch from the catch of the day. Pa and I have dined here in the past.”
“So have I.” Miss Betsy spoke above the din. “I would come more often, but the location is too far from my shop.” Her eyes met Kristin’s. “The café is closer.”
Kristin agreed. And, because she and Miss Betsy didn’t have family, Mr. Findley, the proprietor, opened to them on Sundays too, but only for evening repast. Most times she and Miss Betsy were invited to friends’ homes after church.
After they were seated, Kristin and Miss Betsy removed their gloves.
“You are looking well, Sam.” Miss Betsy tilted her head. “I take it you fared well in Madison.”
“I did.” He patted his midsection and grinned. “Perhaps too well.”
Resentment nipped at Kristin. “Ja, Mary came in to the store to tell us about your letter.”
“Great. You know about the hearing then.”
Before Kristin could say, a barkeep appeared at their table to take their dinner order. Sam ordered the special, whitefish rolled in flour and fried in butter along with boiled potatoes and butternut squash.
The man sauntered off to prepare their meal.
“Oh, and before I forget …” Sam set his forearms on the table.
“Ma sends her regards.”
A heartsick knot formed in Kristin’s throat. In spite of the rejection she felt, she missed Mrs. Sundberg.
“How has your mother been feeling, Sam?” Thank goodness Miss Betsy found her voice.
“Good, for the most part. I only got back late Friday. But Ma has hired a house girl. Her father is Menominee and her mother is white. Her name is Ataehemen-kesoq, which means Strawberry Moon.” Sam grinned sheepishly. “We just call her Attie for short.”
“I imagine she’s pretty.” Kristin could envision the young lady’s round, brown face, dark, shining eyes, and a shy smile. She watched Sam’s expression closely.
“I guess she’s pretty. Personally, I did not notice, but my uncle, Running Deer, seems to be taken with her. She seems to like him too from what I have seen. Ma said she is tired of losing house girls and next time she will hire an old woman.”
“If I did not already have a job,” Miss Betsy joked, “I would inquire.”
The very idea made Kristin smile.
Small talk, benign in nature, continued until their food arrived. Not much was said during the meal, and Kristin thought they all must have been quite hungry. When they finished eating, Sam paid for their dinner while Kristin and Miss Betsy pulled on their gloves. Then they left the eatery but took their time
walking back to the shop.
“I think this walk did me good.” Miss Betsy smiled up at Sam. “But now I am ready for a nap.”
He chuckled.
“Thank you for a most enjoyable meal and your charming company.”
Sam gave a slight bow. “You are most welcome, Miss Betsy.”
“Ja, thank you, Sam.”
“My pleasure, Kristin.” His gaze followed Miss Betsy to the door before sliding back to hers. “May I speak with you privately?”
She nodded. The moment she’d been dreading all morning had arrived.
“Ma told me about what happened. Any detail she forgot, Jack and Mary supplied.” He lowered his gaze. “It is regrettable.”
Kristin stared down at her folded gloved hands and pressed her lips together to stave off the urge to weep. She had thought she’d gotten past the sadness of that particular untimely departure.
“I am sorry, Kristin—sorry that my father’s actions wounded you.”
She attempted a careless shrug. “I am content working and residing with Miss Betsy.” The last thing she wanted was Sam’s pity.
“I can tell.”
When she finally mustered the nerve to look at Sam, he offered his arm.
“Shall we continue our stroll?”
Kristin didn’t think that was wise. “Sam, perhaps you should state what is on your mind and get it over with.”
“Get it over with?” His brows drew inward.
“Ja, I sense you have something important to tell me.”
“Well, I do, but I can think more clearly when I am walking.”
Kristin gave in, dreading each step. Dried leaves crunched under their footfalls, and the lagging conversation rattled her nerves. Maybe if she started it off …
She gave Sam a sideways glance, noticing the strong set of his jaw once again, along with his broad shoulders beneath his dark wool jacket. What woman wouldn’t be proud to wed such a hardworking and handsome man? “Mary told Miss Betsy and me about your new girl and how her expensive perfume tickles your nose.”
“What?” Sam stopped short and gazed at Kristin. “What girl?”
“Samansam.” At least that’s the name she’d heard.
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