Robin Lee Hatcher - [Coming to America 02]

by Patterns of Love

  Thea leaned her forehead against the window. What had happened to all those romantic notions of hers? Why hadn’t any of them come true?

  You’re acting like a child! Karl had actually yelled those words at her last week. Then he’d told her it was time she grew up and thought of someone besides herself.

  She looked at him again, wanting to summon the outrage she’d felt at the time. Karl was only a year older. What gave him the right to talk to her like that? He wasn’t her pappa!

  She shivered involuntarily. Pappa would always love her, no matter what she did. But what about Karl? What if he stopped loving her? What if she had been acting like a child?

  She closed her eyes, refusing to consider her own questions. She wasn’t ready to look for the answers.

  It was like emerging from a fog. Inga had been lost in a thick white cloud of confusion. But slowly it began to lift, and today she knew she would find her way out, once and for all. The world around her was returning to normal. The heaviness on her heart had lightened.

  Inga had begun to hope again.

  She was seated in her bedroom. Early morning sunlight spilled through the east window. In her hands was the first panel of a new quilt, the one she already thought of as her love story quilt. She vaguely remembered the last quilt she’d made, the red one that had represented so much sorrow and uncertainty, but that was a thing of the past. This quilt would represent her future. It would tell their story, hers and Dirk’s. It would tell a story of a young woman who had thought herself unlovable and the man who had proven her wrong. A new quilt made from patterns of love.

  She was ready to go home. She had been at the parsonage for less than two weeks, but suddenly it seemed an eternity. Today she would ask Dirk to take her home.

  She smiled sadly, remembering she’d used those same words to ask Dirk to bring her to the parsonage. But home wasn’t here. Home was with her husband.

  A soft rap sounded at her door.

  “Come in,” she replied.

  The door opened. “Good,” her mamma said as she stepped into the room. “You are awake. Dirk is here.”

  Her heart skipped. “So early?” He came to see her every other day, always in the afternoons. Perhaps he’d guessed she wanted to go home. She set aside her sewing and rose from the chair. “Tell him I will come down straight away.” She smiled. “I want to freshen up.”

  Bernadotte returned her smile. “He’s in the parlor. Come down when you are ready.” Then she backed out of the room, closing the door after her.

  Inga hurried to the dressing table. She sat on the stool and looked at her reflection. Her stomach felt as if it were filled with butterflies.

  She began to brush her hair. Then her hand stilled as she made another discovery. She wasn’t afraid.

  She stared harder at her reflection. She looked much the same. Perhaps a little thinner, but basically the same. Yet she didn’t feel plain and ordinary. Dirk had told her she was pretty. She had thought he was being kind, but today she believed him.

  She didn’t know or understand what had brought about this change. She only knew it had happened.

  By the grace of God, Pappa would have said if she asked him.

  She smiled. “Ja. By your grace, Father.” She was going home. She was going home with the man who loved her. She dropped the hairbrush, rose from the dressing stool, and hurried from her bedroom, down the stairs, and into the parlor.

  Dirk turned from the window when she entered. He was holding his hat in one hand. His dark hair was mussed and badly in need of trimming.

  I must cut it when we get home, she thought.

  “Morning, Inga.”

  There was so much she wanted to tell him, but suddenly she felt as shy as a new bride. “Goddag, Dirk.”

  “Your ma tells me you’re feeling better.”

  “Ja.”

  “You’re looking better, too. More like yourself.”

  Her heart skipped again. “Shall we sit down?” She motioned toward the sofa.

  “The girls’re hoping to see you again soon,” he said after he’d followed her suggestion.

  “I miss them.” She’d missed him as well. “You are here early.”

  “Yeah. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.” He gave her a half smile and shook his head. “Wait until I tell you what happened last night.”

  She watched him, waiting as he’d instructed, but all the while she was thinking how very much she loved his face, his long straight nose, the strong cut of his jaw, the crinkles near the corners of his mouth and eyes.

  “Margaret’s cousin, the Trents…They had a surprise for me.”

  “A surprise?”

  He chuckled. “Well, I guess maybe that’s what folks call an understatement. Last night, the Trents told me they had this big house, and they wanted to take the girls to live with them in Philadelphia. Wanted to give them fancy schooling and take them to Europe and such.”

  Her eyes widened. A chill raced through her. She must have heard him wrong. “Take the girls?”

  Again he shook his head in a gesture of disbelief. “That’s not all. They offered to underwrite my expeditions. That’s how Harvey Trent worded it. He promised to underwrite my expeditions around the world. Can you believe it?”

  The butterflies in her stomach turned to stones. “They would do such a thing?” she asked softly. “Pay for you to go around the world?”

  “Yeah, apparently they would.”

  Perhaps it was for the best she’d never told him she loved him. Perhaps it would make it easier to let him go. “When?” Her chest felt as if it had been crushed. She could scarcely breathe.

  He met her gaze. “When what?”

  “When will you go?”

  He laughed, a short sound of surprise. “Go? I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

  “But this is your chance, Dirk. Your dreams. All your plans. You have waited so long for them to come true. If you do not take it, the opportunity may never come again.”

  His gaze was harsh, the set of his jaw determined. There was no sign of laughter or surprise in his expression. “No, I don’t reckon it will. But I’m still not goin’.”

  She looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap. “You hate the farm.”

  “Doggone it, Inga!”

  Her gaze shot to his face. He’d never before sounded so angry when speaking to her.

  Dirk got to his feet, then glared down at her. “I told you none of that mattered anymore.”

  She rose, too. “I said I would let you go when the time came. How can I hold you to me when I promised you I would not?” The question came out in a whisper.

  “Things were different then. I was different. You were different.” He took hold of her upper arms, his grip firm, unyielding. “I promised before God and man I’d love and keep you, and that’s what I intend to do.”

  She wanted to hold him to the promise, too. But what if he should regret it later? Old fears, old insecurities, resurfaced to taunt her. How could she hold him to her when he was being offered the chance of a lifetime? She would be thinking only of herself, of her own wants and desires. If she held him to his promise, he would eventually resent her. Hadn’t this been the bargain they had made? When it was time for him to go, she would release him?

  “Are they good people?” she asked. “Would they love the children?”

  “You’re not even listenin’ to me, are you?”

  “I do not want to stand in your way,” she whispered.

  “Well, aren’t you the noble one.” Sarcasm dripped from every syllable. He slapped his hat onto his head. Then he leaned down, bringing his face close to hers. “I’ve been plenty patient, Inga. You were sick, not just your body but in your heart. I could see that, and I brought you here ’cause it seemed like that was the only way you were gonna get better. Well, you’re better now. I can see it in your eyes.” He drew back. “Now you’re just actin’ plain…plain stubborn.”

  He spun around and strode to the parlor do
orway. Reaching it, he stopped abruptly, stood perfectly still for a breathless moment. Then he turned slowly to face her again. His dark gaze seemed to bore straight into her soul.

  “You do yourself some thinkin’ about what it is you really want, Inga Bridger. I’ll give you a day to do it in. I’ll be back in the morning.”

  A moment later, the front door of the parsonage slammed behind him as he left.

  Before he was a mile down the road, Dirk began to regret yelling at Inga the way he had. But hang it all! He’d been walking on eggshells for weeks now. He’d despaired as he’d watched Inga shrivel behind sorrow and uncertainty. He knew she’d been hurt by the loss of their baby. He knew it wasn’t easy, accepting that she’d never have children of her own. But he loved her and he hoped she loved him. They had Martha and Suzanne. They had a place to call their own. Maybe life wasn’t easy. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but it was a good life, all the same.

  He hadn’t been wrong to yell at her. She was being stubborn and foolish. Hadn’t he told her he loved her? Hadn’t he already told her she was what he wanted, her and the girls?

  What about what Inga wants?

  The thought gave him a moment’s pause. Maybe she really didn’t want to come back to the farm. Maybe she was using the Trents’ offer as a convenient excuse.

  But then he remembered the look in her eyes when she’d entered the pastor’s front parlor. No, he refused to believe his wife didn’t love him, and he was willing to do whatever he had to do to make her see it for herself.

  Because the idea of a life without Inga was too awful to contemplate.

  “Git up there!” he shouted at the team, slapping the reins. “We got us a long way to go today.”

  After Dirk left, Inga sank down on the sofa. She hugged herself, feeling chilled. For a long while, she stared at the cold hearth, her mind blank. Then the conversation began to replay itself in her head.

  Well, aren’t you the noble one.

  She hadn’t meant it to be a noble gesture. She’d sincerely wanted to give him what he’d always longed for. This was his chance. Probably his last chance.

  You do yourself some thinkin’ about what it is you really want, Inga Bridger. I’ll give you a day to do it in. I’ll be back in the morning.

  She wanted him, but…

  “Oh, my dear Lord!” her mother cried from the hallway. “Olaf, it is Thea and Karl! Thea!”

  The entire household erupted with surprise and joy. Inga’s younger sisters came running—Gunda on her crutches—from other points in the house. Their pappa emerged from his study; judging by his expression, all would be forgiven.

  The prodigal daughter had come home.

  There was hugging and kissing and crying and much confusion. And it wasn’t until later—too much later, perhaps—that Inga realized Astrid was also there to participate in the family celebration.

  Bernadotte soon went to work, preparing a feast to celebrate her daughter’s return, while Olaf shut himself up in his study with his new son-in-law. Thea took the opportunity to draw her older sister outside where they could be alone.

  “It is hard to believe all that’s happened while I was away,” she said to Inga as the two young women strolled beside a brook running behind the church and down toward the school. Songbirds serenaded them from spring green treetops. “You and Gunda…It is so tragic.”

  “Gunda is recovering beyond anyone’s expectations,” Inga said. “And I am well now, too.”

  Briefly, Thea wondered if Inga’s last statement was true. Then she discarded the thought. It was Thea herself who needed attention. “Vilhelm always flirted with me, even when I told him I had given my heart to Karl. It is so sad. I will never see him again.”

  Inga said nothing.

  They walked in silence for several more minutes. Thea had the feeling her sister’s thoughts were far away, and it made her angry. Inga didn’t seem to care that she was miserable and confused. Irritably, she snapped, “I wish you had warned me what marriage was really and truly like.”

  Inga looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know.” She kept her gaze locked on the path before her, feeling waspish.

  Again Inga was silent.

  “Oh, Inga, it isn’t what I expected. Karl had no money to speak of when he got to America. We were married by a justice of the peace, and then we had to rent the most awful apartment. It was small and smelled bad. And the noise. There was always so much noise. Babies crying and husbands and wives fighting. Karl had to work all the time for the most pitiful wages. I hardly ever saw him, and he always came home from work so tired. We never had any fun. I thought marriage would be fun. He never brought me any presents or flowers or…or anything!”

  Thea stopped abruptly. Inga took one more step, then did the same, turning to face her sister.

  “And the first night of our marriage…” Thea felt heat rising in her cheeks. “The first night was horrid. You should have warned me.”

  Inga’s eyes took on a dreamy, distant look. Somehow, Thea knew her sister was remembering something beautiful and special.

  Thea wanted to tear her hair out in fury. She wanted to cry in despair. “Maybe Pappa was right. Maybe we were too young to wed. I just wanted to come home. Only now Karl is here, too, so even home won’t be the same.” She caught her breath. “I don’t know if I want to be married.”

  “Oh, Thea.” Inga hugged her, then took a step backward. Their gazes met again. “I am not certain you should be talking to me of this. I have not done so well with my own marriage.” She paused, seemingly lost in thought. Then she said, “I know this much. You went to New York because you loved Karl. You married him because you loved him. He is your husband because you promised to always love him.”

  “But I don’t feel the same about him as I did—”

  “Falling in love is the easy part, Thea. It is quite different from being in love. If you are blessed, I suppose, you fall in love with your husband again a little bit every day. But most often, love is a choice, a decision to love no matter what the day brings. You are in love because you choose to be in love. You made a promise, a commitment, to love him.”

  Thea hadn’t wanted a lecture. She’d wanted sympathy. “It’s just all so different now. Karl isn’t the same as he was in Sweden. He’s so…so serious all the time.”

  “Being a husband is serious. Supporting a wife, taking care of children.” Inga’s expression changed. She looked…happy. “We cannot know what tomorrow will bring. We must not look for trouble. Have some faith in your husband, Thea. Karl is more man than you credit him to be, I think.” Suddenly Inga turned toward the parsonage. “Dirk,” she whispered.

  Thea knew she’d been completely forgotten. “Inga—”

  “I have to go.” Inga started walking back along the path.

  “Wait!”

  Inga stopped and turned. “Do not be foolish, Thea. Do not throw Karl away. You may not have another chance to love him as he should be loved.”

  “I thought you would understand.” Tears filled Thea’s eyes.

  “I do understand. More than you know.” Inga turned again. “Now I have to go.” She began to run. “I have to go home.”

  Thea wanted to stay angry. She wanted to shout at Inga and demand to be heard. But something happened. She caught a sudden, unflattering glimpse of herself—and she didn’t like what she saw.

  Maybe Karl was right. Maybe it was time she grew up…

  Before it was too late.

  Twenty-four

  We cannot know what tomorrow will bring. We must not look for trouble. Have some faith in your husband…

  Inga’s advice to Thea replayed in her mind as Olaf’s buggy, driven by Karl, carried her home. And with those words, she remembered the instant of revelation, the moment she’d understood what she had done to Dirk this morning, what she’d been doing for far too long.

  Dirk was more man than she’d given him credit for being. She had thought him less
able to commit to marriage than she herself. Even less than young Karl to Thea. She had pushed Dirk away because of her own fears. Earlier this morning, she’d thought all that was behind her, but she’d let one moment of doubt bring the fear roaring back. She’d let it control her once again. She hadn’t listened to what Dirk was telling her. He loved her. He’d said he loved her, and she had pushed him away because she was afraid to take hold of what had been given to her.

  “It doesn’t appear anyone is here, Inga.”

  She looked with some surprise at her surroundings. She was home. But Dirk and the children weren’t there. The wagon wasn’t standing in its usual place beside the barn. Robber and Sunset weren’t in their paddock, grazing on new shoots of grass. There was no laughter of children falling through open windows to greet Inga upon her arrival.

  She climbed out of the buggy. “Just leave my things on the porch, Karl. Then you can go back to the parsonage. I will wait for my family here.” Her family, her husband, her children.

  “Are you sure, Inga? Your pappa didn’t seem to think you should be alone.”

  “I am sure.”

  “But it seems so—”

  “This is my home, Karl,” she interrupted gently. “I will be fine.” She stared up at the house, feeling as if she hadn’t seen it in years.

  Karl carried her portmanteau and valise to the porch and set them there, then turned toward her. “I am going to follow your advice, Inga. Tack.”

  “My advice was small.” In truth, she couldn’t remember what she had said to him during the drive to the farm.

  “Nej, you have been of great help.” He smiled. “We will be happy, Thea and I.”