Promises, Promises

by Amber Miller

  Placing two fists at the small of her back to work out a few kinks, Raelene caught sight of a lone figure walking across the field from the Hanssen farm. A welcoming smile broke upon her lips. But the visitor didn’t possess Gustaf’s familiar swagger and was much too narrow in the shoulders. A fleeting twinge of disappointment turned to alarm as the person drew nearer.

  Why was Fraya Hanssen coming to call this early in the morning? Raelene petitioned heaven, praying Gustaf’s mother wasn’t coming to bear bad news. Wait, she cautioned herself. She wouldn’t give way to negative thoughts. How easily the natural instinct had returned. Besides, Fraya would be running if something were wrong.

  Raelene washed her hands with the creek water in the bucket next to her and stood to greet her guest. Drying her hands on her apron, she paid close attention to Fraya’s face. Although a smile was on her lips and in her eyes, concern creased her brow. This was more than a social call.

  “Good morning, Miss Strattford. I come at good time, yes?”

  Her accent was thicker than Gustaf’s, and her clothing was made with the same fine, even stitches as her son’s, visible evidence of the loving care she gave to her family. Raelene folded the woman’s hands in her own. “You have come at a most welcome time, Mrs. Hanssen. I am happy for the company.”

  Fraya tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips. “You have much weight on your mind. Something troubles you?”

  Gustaf’s mother was nothing if not direct. Now Raelene knew where Gustaf got that quality. Raelene thought about keeping her news a secret, but one look at the kindness and wisdom she saw in Fraya’s eyes disarmed her. Perhaps another woman would better understand.

  “No, nothing is wrong. In fact, quite the opposite. Come join me for tea, and I’ll tell you all about it—if you have time,” Raelene added.

  “But of course, min unge,” the woman replied. “It is you I came to visit.”

  My little one. Raelene hadn’t heard that endearment since Mama called her that as a little girl. It wasn’t until she was seated at the table in her kitchen with a hot cup of tea in her hands that she realized how much she’d missed fellowship with another woman. As a new bride, Kaariana had been understandably occupied and absent from Raelene’s farm, and with Mama gone, no one else was left.

  Gustaf’s mother settled on the bench opposite Raelene and rested her arms on the table. Her motherly demeanor touched Raelene’s desperate longing. “Drink tea, and tell me your heart.”

  She was straight to the point, just like Mama. The accumulation of concerns that burdened Raelene’s weary soul spilled like milk from an upended pail, thoughts flowing in every direction.

  “I—I am not sure. I mean, I do not know,” she babbled, trying to gather her thoughts into some semblance of coherency. “I hardly know where to begin.”

  “Maybe I help some?” the kindly woman asked. “My Gustaf tell me he see you at meeting last night. I think you have great anger and sorrow for long time. Now you have peace. I see its joy in your eyes.”

  Raelene could hardly believe it. All those emotions tumbling around inside of her, wanting release, and Fraya had summed it up in just a few words. Sometimes, a limited vocabulary proved beneficial. Meeting Fraya’s gaze over the rim of her teacup, Raelene blinked back the tears that had gathered.

  “I see everything the way Mama and Papa talked about, and the way Gustaf was trying to show me.” She shook her head and wiped away the moisture from her cheek with the back of her hand. “And I do,” she declared. “I finally have peace. And while I owe it all to the Lord, it was Gustaf who pointed me in the right direction. He would not give up. He would not let me wallow in my bitterness, even when I took it out on him.”

  Instead of acting surprised, Mrs. Hanssen nodded, beaming with motherly pride. “My Gustaf, he talks a lot about you.”

  No doubt to complain about how hard it was to work for someone like her or how stubborn she was. And he was so right.

  “Yes, I can believe he does,” Raelene ventured hesitantly.

  “He sees your sadness but knew you do not want his help. And that hurts him.” The regret in her tone turned to hope. “Maybe now things will change?”

  Gustaf? Hurt by her actions and words? And she’d thought he was always angry with her. Although, as she thought back, there’d been a moment or two when she might have glimpsed hurt. He’d covered it so quickly with irritation that she hadn’t been sure. Then he’d kept his distance as though to punish her.

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hansen. I truly would never intentionally hurt Gustaf.”

  “He care for you very much, you know.”

  That revelation shook her to the core. Care for her? After all she’d done to him? “You must be mistaken.”

  Fraya squared her shoulders. “I know my Gustaf.”

  Now she’d done it. Raelene should know better than to imply to a mother that she was wrong about one of her children. “Please forgive me, Mrs. Hanssen. I did not mean to imply that you do not, but Gustaf has not been very cordial to me lately. That is why I find the idea of him caring very difficult to believe.”

  Gustaf’s mother placed a warm and comforting hand on Raelene’s arm. “He try to hide it, but a mother know the heart of her son.”

  Raelene continued to ponder those words long after Fraya left. There had been times when Raelene thought Gustaf might have felt some of the same attraction that afflicted her, but he’d never made any move to confirm it. Besides, how could he possibly care about her if he was so eager to see her marry someone else? He’d all but shoved her at Cedric and given his blessing.

  So what was she to think? She sighed. There was little left to do but wait on the Lord, as the Reverend Jonathan Edwards had said on Tuesday. Hopefully, He knew what was on Gustaf Hanssen’s mind.

  ❧

  Only two weeks remained until Raelene’s eighteenth birthday, and she was about to despair of waiting. The corn and crops were harvested, and the amount of work around the farm had shifted to canning and preserving for the winter. Granted, they’d all been very busy. But no matter how hard she tried to strike up a conversation with Gustaf, he thwarted her every attempt.

  “I have much work to do” or “You should speak with Mr. Milton” were his standard excuses.

  Why was he being so difficult? If what his mother said was true, wouldn’t he want to declare his feelings and save her from all this anguish? Unless Fraya was wrong, a contrary voice nagged her. Maybe he really wanted her to marry Cedric.

  Whatever the man was thinking in that thick head of his, Gustaf’s aloofness left a hole in her heart and life. It did help that Cedric was ready to fill it. He had become much more attentive in the past few days, and talk had turned increasingly to the future of her farm.

  But he isn’t Gustaf, she lamented, glancing to where Cedric stood by the bookshelf, tracing the outlines of the letters on the spines of the books. Awkward silence stretched between them, but Raelene had no heart for conversation.

  “Miss Strattford, I. . .” Cedric cleared his throat and stepped around the table to stand before her. Stiff as a soldier at attention, he licked his lips several times, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with each swallow. Why was he so nervous?

  “Mr. Milton,” she interrupted, realizing that perhaps her extended silence was the cause, “before you say anything, I want to apologize for my behavior of late. I’ve been so distracted with the affairs of the farm that I have not been the most accommodating hostess. For that I am truly sorry.”

  Cedric clasped her hands in his. “My dear Miss Strattford, I find your company, even in silence, gracious and pleasurable at the very least. Indeed, I, too, have been distracted.”

  Curiosity at the sudden strength of his tone made Raelene meet his firm gaze. His thumbs lightly brushed the backs of her fingers, and the caress unset
tled her.

  “I know we have not known each other very long, but in the time we have spent together, I have found you to be a charming companion and someone for whom I hold deep respect.”

  “Yes, I feel the same way.”

  “And it could be even more,” he ventured slowly.

  Was he saying what she thought he was saying? She’d known this possibility existed, had thought about how she would respond when it happened; but now that the moment might be at hand, she was left with naught but a frozen wit and dry tongue.

  “You will be eighteen next weekend, and I believe it is time that we make our relationship a more permanent one.”

  This was all Gustaf’s fault. If only he’d let her know how he felt before now.

  “We will make a great team, and this farm will thrive under our hard work. Miss Strattford, would you do me the honor of accepting my proposal of marriage?”

  Or maybe he had.

  Cedric’s feelings toward her were clear. His proposal wasn’t one buried beneath selfish ambition or personal gain like the others’. And while Cedric did seem to be preoccupied with the success of the farm, he readily offered to set aside his business affairs to see to her needs when the occasion had warranted it.

  She should be happy. Excited, even. This was a moment she’d dreamed about all her life. But as she looked into Cedric’s earnest gaze, the only face she saw was Gustaf’s. Pulling her hands free, Raelene turned toward the fire. She finally had everything she needed to make her parents’ dreams come true. And with the endless possibilities spread out before her, Gustaf prevented her from taking hold of them.

  The heat from the fire warmed her face as the realization that it was Gustaf’s hand next to hers as she took hold of those dreams. Despite her protests and attempts to keep her distance, one fact stood out with blinding clarity: She’d fallen in love with Gustaf Hanssen.

  But he didn’t want her.

  Clawing past the dark despair cloaking that truth, she turned to face Cedric once again and conjured what she hoped was the right amount of exuberance for such an occasion.

  “Yes, Mr. Milton, I accept your proposal of marriage.”

  Yet as she spoke, her heart felt as though it were folding, entombed within her chest.

  ❧

  After the harvest was a popular time for weddings. Fresh fruits and vegetables were in abundance for the elaborate nuptial celebrations the colonists enjoyed. Raelene had always enjoyed the fall wedding season back home, and here was no different. Everyone in town would join together to turn the affairs into the social events of the year. Each one was planned to give the bride and groom, as well as their guests, a special memory to treasure long after the ceremony. . .even for a wedding that was nothing more than a business transaction.

  Like hers.

  At least on her part. While Cedric seemed to care for her, he couldn’t conceal his preoccupation with the farm and the potential it offered. Conversations with him were always centered around the farm and how to increase production or profit. He hadn’t made many attempts to get to know her or her interests, but he was always considerate of her wishes. Life could be worse.

  More than ever, Raelene missed her midday conversations with Gustaf. The way he quietly lived his faith in every aspect of his life and his constant reminder that God hadn’t abandoned her were the reasons she’d been receptive to Jonathan Edwards’s sermon. And that had led to her turning back to God.

  While Gustaf still saw to his duties, he no longer came to the cottage and avoided extended conversation.

  Cedric’s daily presence on the farm made the breech between Raelene and Gustaf feel as wide and cold as the Christina River. Maybe it was just as well. She was getting married. Her heart and mind should be focused on her future, not dwelling on what would never be.

  Raelene knew of three other weddings taking place, thanks to the banns posted at the town hall. Susanna, Doc’s wife, had posted Raelene’s for her parents in honor of their contributions to the growing settlement when they were alive. Thanks to Susanna’s influence, every colonist within traveling distance of New Castle would most likely attend the wedding.

  Moisture gathered in Raelene’s eyes. If only she could feel a portion of the excitement reflected on the faces of everyone who gathered to help with preparations.

  “Raelene, you are sad?” Kaariana’s voice broke into Raelene’s contemplation.

  “I am worried we won’t complete everything in time. Planning for the harvest and a wedding? My senses must be addled!”

  Her best friend giggled, but concern quickly replaced the mirth. “But you are happy, yes?”

  Happy? At knowing she wouldn’t lose her farm, yes. But at knowing that in just a few days, she would marry Cedric? “Yes, I am,” she said, as though to convince herself. “I merely have a lot on my mind. Forgive me for spoiling what should be a time of celebration.”

  Kaariana narrowed her eyes. Apparently satisfied, she returned to her work on the doilies that would grace the tables at the banquet after the wedding.

  You will grow to love Cedric, Raelene told herself. His devotion to her and commitment to God would be enough. It had to be. Gustaf’s avoidance of her made it clear she had no other option.

  ❧

  Gustaf stood by as Cedric directed several men gathering beans and corn. Mounds of cornstalks passed by in wagons as their neighbors worked together to divide the crops. It should be him giving the instructions and supervising the distribution of goods from their harvest. It should be his wedding the ladies were planning inside the cottage or during their afternoons in the orchard.

  “Go to her,” his mother had encouraged after her visit with Raelene almost two weeks ago. “Tell her you care.”

  As Gustaf recalled, that was the day after the meeting in town to hear Jonathan Edwards preach. The look of awe on Raelene’s face was burned into his memory. And the pure joy in her eyes when their gazes had collided from across the room had filled his heart to overflowing. He’d been so close to going to her when he’d seen her glancing around. But she was on Cedric’s arm. There was no room for him.

  Cedric was everything Gustaf wasn’t. Cedric was polished and well educated. Not only was he well versed in tending the land, but he was a man of means, genteel, like Raelene. His stories of London enthralled her.

  Gustaf could never do that. All he could offer was love and a life of hard work. So he ignored both his mother’s pleas to speak to Raelene and Raelene’s attempts to speak to him.

  These past few weeks working side by side with her had been nearly unbearable. Avoiding their midday conversations had left a hollow ache in his chest, and yielding the reins of the farm to her future husband had nearly choked the life from him.

  Gustaf was glad that she’d finally come to grips with her anger at God and the pain of losing her parents, but that only made him love her more.

  He stepped inside the barn before anyone noticed the searing glaze in his eyes. Yes, God help him, he loved her. There was no denying it. But she was tied to her land as Gustaf was tied to his promise.

  As soon as she was wed, he’d head west, although the prospect of seeking his own land failed to excite him as it once did. Not without Raelene at his side.

  “God help me,” Gustaf mouthed as his heart twisted into a knot of anguish. Help me to be happy for Raelene. Help me sacrifice my love for her happiness. Let the life she always wanted with an English gentleman be my last gift to her.

  Seventeen

  Raelene stood in front of the beveled glass mirror at the back of the church. The dark circles underneath her eyes gave evidence of her sleepless night. Indiscernible chatter and laughter floated on the breeze through the open door that faced the town green where final preparations for her wedding were taking place. Friends and neighbors and townsfolk bustled to and
fro, there to celebrate what they assumed was a joyous occasion.

  And it should be. It should be the happiest day of her life. She was eighteen, and she was getting married. Her groom waited anxiously to exchange vows with her. Afterward, they’d spend a full month at his home in the country before beginning their life together on her farm. But her heart would not go with them. It wasn’t free to be given to Cedric. It belonged to a man who didn’t want her.

  Raelene smoothed her hands across the delicate pale blue brocade fabric of Mama’s best gown. Originally a gown Mama had worn at court in England, it had a square neckline blended into a long train that hung from her shoulders. The lines of the bodice dipped to just below her waist, where it opened to reveal her cotton petticoats and panniers. She could’ve worn Mama’s satin, but Raelene already felt overdressed in this country setting.

  A tear escaped from one eye and traveled a slow path down her cheek as she examined the coiffure of blond curls Karianna had swept up with combs, leaving a lone curl to drape over her shoulder. “Oh, Mama. I wish you were still here. If you and Papa hadn’t left me, everything would be different.”

  “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.”

  Raelene closed her eyes and shut out the distraction of the world around her. “Yes, God, I know,” she whispered. “Your hand is in everything that is happening today. For that I am thankful.”

  How could it be that her soul was full when her heart was breaking?

  “It is time, Raelene.”

  Raelene turned at the sound of Doc Schuylar’s voice in the doorway. He was resplendent in his finest waistcoat and breeches, the buckles on his shoes polished to a shine and a new cocked hat adorning his head. Doc looked every bit the gentleman Papa would be if he were here to give her away. But that honor would go to next-best person, and Papa would have wanted it this way.