by Karen Kirst
“You don’t have to decide anything right now. You are welcome to stay at my place until you can make other arrangements.” Oscar almost bit his tongue, so surprised was he. Where had that come from? He’d just issued an invitation of indefinite duration? And not just to an old couple, but to an expectant widow?
“I’m sure it would only be for a couple of weeks at the most, right? Just until you sort things out.”
Had he lost his mind?
And yet, he didn’t find himself wanting to renege.
What was wrong with him?
CHAPTER FOUR
When they returned to Oscar’s house, Grossvater went with him to the barn, but Oscar shook his head at Kate’s offer to help. “I don’t need you to muck out stalls. If you stay in the house and mind Liesl, that will be enough.”
He squatted beside his daughter. “You can show the ladies around the house, right?”
Liesl nodded, uncertainty wrinkling her brow. No doubt she went to the barn with him every morning.
“We’ll be back soon.” He brushed his knuckle down her cheek.
Kate watched the two men walking side by side down the slope to the barn, one white-haired and lean, the other strong and tall. How many times had she watched Johann and Grossvater like this, heading out for a day of farming together?
“What should we do now?” Liesl took Kate’s hand.
“What do you usually do in the mornings?” Kate asked.
“Go to the barn with Daddy.” Liesl shrugged. “That’s a funny coat.”
Kate smiled at the quick swap of topics. “It is, isn’t it? That’s because it belonged to my husband. It’s kind of big, but when I wear it, it helps me remember him.” She headed for the kitchen door, her stomach rumbling. “All that work made me hungry. How about we get a snack?”
Grossmutter was already in the kitchen, surveying the room, hands on hips. Kate knew that look.
“Liesl,” Kate said, bending to the little girl. “I don’t think we properly introduced you two. This is my Grossmutter. That means ‘grandmother.’ I am sure she won’t mind if you call her that, since it seems like we will be staying with you for a few more days.”
Grossmutter smiled, her lined face gentle as she put a work-worn hand on Liesl’s head. “Schätzchen.”
Liesl looked to Kate.
“That means ‘sweetheart.’”
The child beamed. “She’s nice. And so are you.”
“I think we should have our snack, and then we can see about helping out around here. We might not be welcome in the barn, but we can make a difference in the house.” Kate went to the cupboard. She felt the need to keep busy, to keep her thoughts at bay for a while. And to somehow repay a bit of Oscar Rabb’s kindness.
She sliced a rather misshapen loaf of bread and spread it with butter.
“There’s honey in the pot on the shelf.” Liesl pointed. “I like honey on my bread.”
So they had honey, too. Afterward, Grossmutter found a broom, and Kate wiped Liesl’s chin and hands with a damp cloth.
“You and I can do the dishes, and you can tell me where everything goes.” Kate drew a chair up to the counter for the child and filled the washtub with warm water from the stove reservoir. Shaving a few soap chips off the cake beside the pump, she stirred them until suds formed and placed the breakfast dishes and snack plates into the water.
Liesl talked the entire time they washed and wiped dishes. “Daddy doesn’t like doing dishes, so he waits until night time to clear up. He says he’d rather do a lot at once than have to do them a lot of times during the day.”
Kate smiled, handing her a tin cup to dry. She wasn’t overly fond of dishes herself.
“Daddy lets me help, but I can only dry the cups and spoons and forks. He does the plates himself. When I’m big enough, I’ll do all the dishes all by myself. Daddy says he will be glad when that day comes.”
Grossmutter opened the kitchen door and swept the dirt outside and off the porch. When she came in, she began sorting the boots and shoes beside the door into neat rows.
By the time the men had finished the barn chores and returned to the house, Kate had washed the kitchen windows with vinegar and water, scrubbing them with crumpled newspaper that Liesl had found for her, and Grossmutter had taken her broom to the cobwebs in the corners and along the crown moldings. Liesl had been given a damp cloth and the task of wiping down all the kitchen chairs, which had been moved into a row at the far end of the room. Kate had tied an empty flour sack around the little girl’s waist to spare her pinafore. She looked adorable, concentrating on each rung and chair leg, chattering the whole while, surprisingly at ease with the women when it was clear she spent almost all her time with just her father.
“What are you doing?” Oscar filled the doorway.
“Daddy. I’m cleaning. Aren’t I doing a good job?” Liesl held up the rag, her face alight. “Kate and Grossmutter are cleaning, too.”
Kate looked up from her hands and knees where she was scrubbing the floor around the stove, and Grossmutter put a row of glasses back in the cupboard, having just wiped down the shelves.
“You are doing a beautiful job.” He nodded to his daughter, but he didn’t take his eyes off Kate as he came in and put his hand under her elbow, helping her to stand. “Could you come outside for a moment?”
His eyes were stern, his expression fierce. Though his grip on her arm was firm, it wasn’t tight as he directed her to the porch.
“Where are you going, Daddy?”
“We’ll be back soon, Poppet. Just keep on with what you’re doing.” He closed the door behind him.
Kate clasped her elbows, turning to face the sunshine. Overhead, a V of Canada geese honked and flapped, heading for warmer temperatures.
“What are you doing?” Oscar asked. “Scrubbing my floors?”
She looked up at him. He stood with one hand braced on a porch post, the other on the railing, looking out over his fields dormant now that the harvest was over. He wore a patched flannel shirt, the plaid faded from many washings, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms dusted with brown hair. Everything about him exuded masculinity and strength. And his jaw had a hint of stubbornness.
He also clearly had a bee in his bonnet about expectant mothers doing basic chores. What was she supposed to do? Wrap herself in a quilt and huddle in a rocking chair until her time came?
“You don’t have to scrub my house. I know I’m no housekeeper, but my house isn’t exactly a pigsty.” He frowned, and she realized he wasn’t upset about her working while in what he called “a delicate condition.” Rather, they had offended him.
“Of course your home isn’t a pigsty.” She went to stand beside him. “I’m so sorry if we’ve overstepped. Grossmutter and I are keeping busy and, in a small way, trying to repay you for some of your kind hospitality.”
Some of the tightness went out of his shoulders. “I’m not looking to get repaid. Anyway, you shouldn’t be scrubbing floors. You should be sitting at that table with your family figuring out what you’re going to do next, where you’re going to go.”
Because the sooner they were out of his house, the better. He hadn’t wanted them to begin with, and he wanted them gone at the earliest possible moment. Her eyes stung, but she blinked hard, unwilling to cry.
“We’ll do that now.” She went back into the house, picked up the sudsy bucket and went outside, pitching the contents in a silvery arc onto the grass beside the steps. When she returned to the kitchen, she began placing the chairs around the table once more. Grossmutter and Grossvater stood at the dry sink, watching her with troubled eyes.
“Are we done?” Liesl asked, still holding her rag.
“For now. Why don’t you go see your daddy? He’s out on the porch.”
“I
want to stay with you and clean. I like cleaning.” The child swiped the seat of the last chair with a flourish.
“I know you do, sweetling, but there are things we grown-ups have to talk about.” Kate motioned to her family.
Liesl’s eyes narrowed. “Things that little girls aren’t supposed to hear?”
Kate had to smile at the child’s perspicacity. “That’s right, little miss. You go outside, and take Rolf with you. I’m sure he’s ready for a run.”
Liesl took her sweet time going out, letting Kate know she wasn’t pleased with the end of the morning’s activities, and Kate smothered a smile. Such a saucy little minx.
Lowering herself carefully into a chair, Kate clasped her hands on the shiny tabletop and looked at Grossvater. “What are we going to do? Can we rebuild the house? Even a smaller one?”
Grossvater took his wife’s hand in his and shook his head. “There is not much money. Johann didn’t tell you both because he didn’t want you to worry, but he mortgaged the farm to build the new house. And the bull cost a great deal of money, I know. If we still had the bull, we could sell it to get some of the purchase price back, but…” His faded blue eyes were sad, remembering how he had needed to put down the expensive bull who had proven too mean to have on the farm. “We can pay off the loan as soon as we sell the cheeses, but there will not be anything left over. I will go to town tomorrow and talk to the banker, see if he will extend the mortgage and loan us enough to build at least a small house. And if I need to, I will look for a job.”
Patting his hand, Grossmutter nodded. “We need to find a place to stay where we can be together. We cannot stay here forever. Herr Rabb has been generous, but it is clear he would prefer us to be gone from his house. We will need to find a place to rent, and that will cost money.”
Kate twirled a strand of loose hair around her fingertip. “I’ll go to town with you and see if I can get a job, perhaps at the mercantile.” Though she would loathe working for Mrs. Hale, she would do it for these dear people. “Or perhaps at the bank or the café or the hotel. I’m good with figures, or I can cook or clean. At least for a couple of months.”
Grossmutter pressed her lips together, eyes clouded. “There is one more thing we can do.”
“What?” Kate asked.
“Martin, you should send a telegram to your brother. Perhaps he can help us.”
Grossvater pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ask my brother for money?” He puckered as if he had tasted something sour. “I don’t want to have to do that.”
She sighed. “I know you do not, but you should at least write to him and tell him what has happened.”
Kate smoothed her dress over her unborn baby, putting her palm against her side when the little one thumped and stretched. Grossvater’s brother, Victor, ran a leather tanning company in Cincinnati, very successful if his letters were to be believed. He’d often chided Grossvater for becoming a farmer in what he called the backwaters of Minnesota, abandoning the family business to strike out on his own. There had been some rift between the brothers, something she never knew the details of, which made Grossvater asking for Victor’s help even more unpalatable.
Kate spread her hands on the table. “We must also be careful not to impose upon Mr. Rabb more than we have to. I am afraid we might’ve hurt his feelings by cleaning his kitchen. He took offense, thinking our helping him was a judgment of his housekeeping skills.”
“Oh, no, did you explain?” Grossmutter asked.
“I told him we were only trying to keep busy and to repay him for his hospitality, but that seemed to offend him further.”
“He is a proud man, I think. He has asked for no help, not even with the little one, since his wife passed away,” Grossvater said. “We must be careful, as you say. And we must find another place soon. Perhaps we should go to town today.”
“That might be best.” Kate rose. “I’ll get my coat.”
* * *
Oscar drove his wagon up Jackson Street in Berne, conscious of Kate Amaker beside him on the seat. Mr. Amaker sat on a board roped across the wagon box behind them.
“You didn’t have to do this.” Kate gripped her hands in her lap, cocooned in her husband’s big coat that still carried the scent of smoke. “We could’ve driven in ourselves.”
“It’s no trouble. I needed to go to town, anyway.” Odd as it was to be traveling with Kate and Martin, it felt odder still not to have Liesl with him. They were never apart. The ride had been much quieter without the four-year-old’s constant questions and commentary.
Liesl hadn’t even fussed about staying with Inge at the farm.
The ease with which his daughter had taken to the Amakers surprised him. And, if he was honest, made him a bit jealous. He had been her whole world for her entire life, but in less than a day, she had befriended their guests.
Berne was a small town of under a thousand residents. One store, one restaurant, one hotel, one church, one bank. The train had bypassed Berne by ten miles, going through Kasson to the south, stopping the town’s growth and potential while still in its infancy. Still, he liked the little farm town, though since his wife’s death, he came only when he needed to pick up supplies. He had a standing order at the mercantile every two weeks, and he was able to get in and out of town quickly without having to talk to many people.
Not this time, though, since it would take the Amakers a while to complete their business. “Where will you go first?”
Martin leaned forward. “I will go to the bank, and Kate can go to the store. We will hurry.”
Oscar nodded and pulled up in front of the tiny brick building that housed the bank. He parked the wagon and leaped to the ground, reaching up for Kate. He took great care lifting her down, making sure she was steady on her feet before letting go. She didn’t look at his face, busying herself with brushing her coat and smoothing her hair. He took her elbow. “Don’t worry about the time, Martin. I’ll see Kate to the store. I have business there myself.”
It had been almost two years since he had walked with a woman in town. Gaelle had gone with him every Saturday, rain or shine, enjoying getting off the farm and seeing people. Browsing the store, having tea at the restaurant, visiting her friends. She had been as chatty as Liesl, social and energetic. He hadn’t known that he would miss those trips until they were gone.
The bell over the door jingled as Oscar opened it to allow Kate to go in first. He breathed deeply, inhaling the scents of vinegar, apples, leather and patent medicines. He’d give Mrs. Hale credit. The store was light, bright and well-organized. The shelves were all painted white, and the floor had been waxed to a high shine. Built on a corner, the store had wide windows allowing sunshine to stream in. She had arranged some of the wares in the windows, inviting browsing customers to come inside, and everything was clearly labeled in a fine script.
Mrs. Hale looked up from where she was writing in a ledger spread on the counter. “Oh, Mr. Rabb, I wasn’t expecting you today.” She slapped the book closed. “It will take me some time to assemble your order.”
“That’s fine. I need to add a few things, anyway.” With three more people to feed, he’d need to increase his grocery list. A frisson of worry went through him. He was comfortably off, but hosting the Amakers for any length of time would be sure to put a dent in his finances.
Kate bit her lower lip, standing beside a table full of bolts of calico. She trailed her hand over the top bolt, pink with tiny blue flowers. Oscar’s mouth twitched. Liesl had asked for a pink dress. For Christmas. Before she’d asked for a baby, of all things.
If those were the only two choices, she’d be getting a dress, and that was that. Perhaps he could prevail upon Mrs. Tipford to sew one up for her. Getting clothes for Liesl was one of the hardest of his tasks as a father, but the pastor’s wife had been helpful recently.
“M
rs. Hale,” Kate said, stepping forward, fingers knotted. “I was wondering if you might need some help around the store. Perhaps through the Christmas season?”
Mrs. Hale had picked up a feather duster and was fluttering it over some perfume bottles on the shelf behind the counter, and she barely paused. “Katie, my dear,” she said, glancing over her shoulder for a bare instant before turning away again. “I am not looking for any help, but even if I was…” She paused. “It isn’t seemly for a woman in your condition to work outside the home. I’m sure you understand.”
Oscar had noted that Kate’s shoulders had gone rigid when Mrs. Hale called her Katie. Katie didn’t suit her at all. It was a little girl’s name, not a grown woman’s, and from what he had observed, Kate Amaker was a grown woman, carrying her burdens with resolution. A widow, an expectant mother, caring for her elderly relatives, and now a disaster-survivor. No, Katie didn’t suit her at all.
She flattened her hands on the gentle mound of her stomach, and she pressed her lips together, lifting her chin a fraction. “Mrs. Hale, this is a community of sensible farmers. I am sure no one would be offended by the sight of a widow earning her keep, even if she is going to have a baby.”
“Regardless,” Mrs. Hale said, brushing Kate’s opinions aside, “I’m not in need of help, but if I was, I would want to hire someone who could work more than a few weeks. You’re nearing your confinement, correct? No.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t work. Now, Mr. Rabb, what can I get for you?” The storekeeper turned her shoulder to Kate as if the subject was forever closed.
Heat flared in his stomach along with a desire to jump to Kate’s defense, which was odd. The less he involved himself, the better. All he wanted was to see them settled somewhere so he could return to his isolated existence.
“Just double my usual order.” He took Kate’s elbow. “We’ll return for it later.” He guided her out of the store. When they stood on the boardwalk, he said, “I’m sorry. But there might be work elsewhere. Let’s try the hotel.”
