by Karen Kirst
“Miss Liesl.” Kate looked at the coat.
“Oh, I forgot.” She brought the garment to Kate to hang by the door.
They stepped out of the way as Martin and Oscar brought in the packages and boxes. Grossmutter was already at the stove, stirring up the fire. She dipped water into the kettle.
“Some hot tea will warm us up.”
“Can I have cammic tea again?” Liesl climbed onto a chair and began removing foodstuffs from the carton.
“Of course, Schätzchen.” Grossmutter brushed her hand over Liesl’s hair. Kate loved the bond growing between those two. Having the high-spirited little girl around had helped take Grossmutter’s mind off their troubles.
Oscar carried in the package of dress goods. “Where would you like this?”
Kate took it. “I’ll put it in the parlor for now.” She’d wait until the kitchen was clear to spread out fabric and begin cutting out dresses, pinafores and nightgowns for Liesl. It still bothered her that the child had been so upset about a Christmas dress. What else might they give to her that would make her happy?
Martin sat at the table, his shoulders hunched. His cough was a bit better, though he still looked tired. The medicine Dr. Horlock had sent helped, but what he really needed was a long rest without worries.
Oscar returned from putting up the team, and he carried one more package. Shrugging out of his black coat, he dropped it onto a hook and set the paper-wrapped bundle on the end of the table.
“Can we do it now, Daddy?” Liesl asked.
Oscar smiled at the little girl as she hopped on her toes. Kate marveled at how quickly her moods could change.
“Let me get warmed up first, Poppet. The surprise will keep for a few more minutes.” He pulled up a chair and sat, taking the cup Grossmutter handed him.
“Look, Daddy. I have cammic tea.”
“Just what is ‘cammic’ tea, anyway?” He looked into her mug.
Kate smiled. “I believe she means cambric tea. It’s tea and milk.” Mostly milk, in fact. “I remember when my mother first gave me cambric tea. When the church ladies came over for a quilting bee. I felt quite grown up drinking tea with the ladies.”
“Where is your family now?” Oscar asked.
She rubbed her belly as the baby thumped her side. “My parents passed away when I was fourteen. I lived with my mother’s aunt until I married, and she’s gone now, too. Martin and Inge are my family now.”
He looked thoughtfully at her, and she felt her cheeks heating for some odd reason. She wanted to smooth her hair and fuss with her collar, find something to do with her hands. So strange.
Martin set his cup down. “I had a letter from my brother.” He reached into his sheepskin-lined vest and pulled out an envelope.
Inge’s lips trembled, and the lines on Martin’s face grew deeper. He handed the envelope to Kate. “Would you read it, please?”
Oscar lifted Liesl into his lap. “Do you want some privacy? We can go into the other room.”
“It is all right. I have read the letter, and you will need to know what it says.”
Kate took the envelope, drawing the pages out with a sense of foreboding. She smoothed the papers out on the table. The letter had been written with a bold, clear hand, easily legible.
“Martin,
“I hope you got my telegram. You did not send an answer, so I am following with this letter.
“Too bad about your house, but maybe it is for the best. Father never wanted you to leave Cincinnati in the first place to take up farming. After we broke our backs farming in Switzerland, he wanted better for us in America. I know you always hated the tannery, but it looks like you need it in the end. Though you are old enough now, you should be thinking of retiring. I am not sure what good you will be in the factory, but I will find something.”
Kate looked up, hurt and angry for Martin. His brother, many years his junior, sounded so unfeeling, unkind. As if it were a foregone conclusion that Martin would fail as a farmer and have to return to the family business.
Martin looked into his tea mug, and Inge rested her hand on his forearm.
Kate continued reading.
“I will not have a place for you to stay until after the new year. The factory janitor is retiring, and I suppose you can have his position. The job comes with a two-room apartment at the back of the factory as part of the wages. I know you said you had your grandson’s wife with you. Is she needing a job, too? I’m not running a charity here, Martin. She will have to live with you in the rooms I can provide, or she’ll have to find a place of her own. It’s one thing to help out my old brother, but my great-nephew’s relict? That’s asking a bit much.
“Can you manage the train fare to get here? If not, I suppose I can advance you the money against your wages. Still, you have the farm to sell and the livestock. That should bring in enough to get you here, even if you have to split it with the widow.”
He signed the letter “Victor.”
Kate let the pages fall to the table. This was the man upon whose mercy they were to throw themselves? Someone who only reluctantly would give his aging brother a janitor’s job and a pair of rooms in a tannery? Someone who had no sympathy, no thought for how hard it would be to leave their home?
Someone who clearly didn’t want her as part of the arrangement?
This was the situation into which she was supposed to bring her baby?
Oscar’s mouth was set in a line, and his eyes looked hard. “He sounds like a real gem. Is there nowhere else you can go? Or better yet, no way you can find to stay here?”
Martin patted Inge’s hand and shook his head. “Not without becoming a further burden on our friends. Do not judge Victor too harshly. He is a busy man, and it has always been his way to put business before people. At least I will have a job, and we will have a place to live.” His faded brown eyes closed for a moment. “Victor was always afraid that my father would go back on his word and leave half of the tannery to me, though when I left home to become a farmer, Father said I would have to do it alone, that if I was turning my back on the family business, I would receive nothing from it. And though he stayed true to his word, Victor has never forgiven me for leaving.”
Kate leaned forward and put her hand over his and Inge’s. “You were born to be a farmer. Just as Johann was. We have a few weeks yet before we have to go. Perhaps the Lord will make a way for us to stay.”
Though what that could be, she didn’t know. She’d thought of little else for the past three weeks now and come up with nothing.
* * *
Oscar slid his chair back and whispered in Liesl’s ear. “I think it’s time for our surprise, Poppet. Why don’t you go get yours?”
Anything to dispel some of the gloom in the room. That letter. Victor Amaker sounded like a skinflint. Oscar had been by one of the tanneries in the Twin Cities, and the smell was horrendous. He couldn’t imagine anyone living in the factory. Working there would be bad enough. With Kate and a baby and Martin and Inge crammed into a two-room apartment inside the factory…?
Liesl ran back from the parlor clutching her parcel, brown eyes bright. “Now, Daddy?”
“Now. And don’t forget what you’re supposed to say.”
She went to Kate, eyes downcast for a moment. Squaring her shoulders, she looked up. “Miss Kate, I’m sorry for acting out in the store. Thank you for helping me choose fabric for new clothes and making them for me.” She put the soft bundle into Kate’s hands.
Kate didn’t open the package right away. Instead, she leaned forward and cupped Liesl’s face in her hands. “Sweetling, I will love sewing for you. You didn’t have to get me a gift.” Her glance flicked to Oscar’s face. “But I am so glad you did. I love presents, don’t you?”
Liesl nodded, beaming, everything right in her worl
d again.
“Will you help me open it?” Kate loosened the string and held the gift out for Liesl’s help. The little girl pulled off the wrappings, revealing a pair of white, knitted baby booties.
“Aren’t they precious?” Liesl asked. Oscar smiled. Those were the words Mrs. Hale had used in the store when he’d lifted Liesl up to look into the glass case of baby things, bonnets, booties, little gowns. His daughter had picked out the white booties right away.
“They are that and more.” Kate hugged Liesl.
“I picked them out all by myself.” She shot her daddy a guilty look and squirmed. “Well, Daddy helped.”
Kate laughed. “You both did a lovely job.” Her grateful glance spread warmth through Oscar’s chest. She held the little bits of footgear on the palm of her hand. “My baby’s first shoes. The only thing I have for him or her so far.”
Oscar cleared his throat, and pushed the other package across the table toward her. “This is from Liesl and me, too. To say thank you for sewing some clothes for her.” His voice felt rough, like he was coming down with a cold or something.
With wondrous soft eyes, she pulled the twine on the bundle, peeling back the paper to reveal several lengths of flannel. Thick, fluffy white for diapers, thinner, patterned yardage for blankets and gowns…at least that’s what Mrs. Hale had said it was for. What Oscar knew about baby clothes would fill a thimble and leave room leftover, but he trusted Mrs. Hale.
“Oh, my.”
Then the waterworks started. She clutched the fabric to her chest, tucked her chin down and just started sobbing. Oscar got to his feet, unsure what to do. Didn’t she like the stuff? Had he gotten it wrong?
Liesl shot him a panicked glance, but no more panicked than he felt.
“We can take it back, I’m sure.” Oscar shifted his weight.
Inge chuckled and got up, tugging a hanky from her sleeve and pressing it into Kate’s hand. “Do not mind her. She loves the fabric. Sometimes mamas who are expecting weep when they are happy.”
Kate dabbed her eyes and gave Oscar an apologetic, watery smile. “Thank you so much. I was so worried about how to outfit the baby when it came. You didn’t have to do such a nice thing, but I’m so glad you did.”
Her blue eyes still swam with tears, but sunshine was breaking through. Oscar rubbed the back of his neck. He would never understand women, but as long as she was happy, he was happy.
Which gave him pause. He wasn’t really concerned about Kate Amaker’s happiness, was he?
Rolf rose from his place by the fire and gave a bark, staring at the door. Oscar eased the curtain aside to look out the window. A black buggy was pulling into the yard drawn by a pair of high-stepping grays.
Mr. Siddons.
Oscar met him on the front porch, wary. Mr. Siddons wasn’t alone. He had a driver. The small man got out of the buggy and held the horses, and Mr. Siddons descended, looking over the house and barn and grounds like the tax man come collecting.
Rolf, at Oscar’s side, lowered his head, growling deep in his chest, his back rigid. Oscar snapped his fingers, and Rolf quieted, but he didn’t relax. Odd. The dog was usually quite friendly.
“Mr. Siddons.”
“Afternoon, Rabb. I was out this way and thought I would call in.” Siddons wore a navy, woolen topcoat and fine leather gloves. He held out his hand and shook Oscar’s firmly. “Thought I might come in and talk to Martin Amaker if he’s here.”
“He’s here.” Oscar, in just his shirtsleeves, felt the cold bite his skin. Or maybe it was just the cold, calculating look in Abel Siddons’s eyes.
He ushered his guest inside, turning back to see if the driver was coming.
“Don’t worry about him. He’ll wait with the horses.” Siddons waved his hand as if swatting a gnat and stepped into the house. Again his eyes took in everything, from the cupboards to the coat rack to the coffee grinder on the wall.
“Are you sure about your driver? It’s mighty chilly out there.”
“He’s paid to stay with the horses.” Siddons again made that brushing-off gesture. “Ah, Amaker, just the man I wanted to see.”
Martin rose slowly, his back bent with age, but his manners courtly and impeccable. “Mr. Siddons.” He gave a small bow. “What can I do for you?”
Without waiting to be asked, Siddons took a chair and looked at Inge, who stood by the stove with her hands folded. “You wouldn’t happen to have some coffee, would you? It was brisk riding in the buggy today.”
Liesl had gone to stand by Kate, staring at the stranger who had barged in and taken over the room. Inge looked to Oscar, a question in her eyes. He nodded, and she went to fill the coffeepot.
“I’ll get right down to it.” Siddons hadn’t even unbuttoned his coat. “I’ve heard you’re going to be selling up, Amaker, and I want first crack at your land. I’ll offer you a fair cash price. The same offer I made to…” He frowned and looked at Kate. “To this young woman when I saw her in Mantorville last week. I’m sure she told you.”
Martin’s surprised look said that Kate hadn’t passed on that information, but he quickly composed himself.
“I thank you for the offer, and I will keep it in mind. We are not certain what our plans will be, but the land will not be for sale before the new year.” Martin turned his teacup on the table.
“Hmm, I’d like to get things settled before then, maybe even get started on a house for a tenant to move into soon. I have a mind to plow the pastures and put in an early crop of peas, then a crop of carrots. And I’d tear down that big barn. No need for it without livestock on the place. The wood could build a new equipment shed with some left over for a house.”
Kate gasped, her hand going to her lips. “Tear down the barn?”
“It’s a waste of space and wood. I have to say, you’re squandering the land’s potential keeping it as cow pastures for so few head. And Brown Swiss? They might be good milkers for cheese production, but I prefer Holsteins any day. If you’d have put the land into crop production instead of cows, you probably would’ve had a tidy little nest egg built up and could afford to build a new house now.”
Inge set the coffeepot on the stove with a bit of force. Kate’s arm tightened around Liesl, and her jaw came up a fraction. Oscar frowned.
“Mr. Siddons,” Oscar said. “The Amakers are good farmers, and they have the best herd of dairy cattle in the county. They make excellent cheeses, and they take care of their land.”
“Well, they used to, didn’t they? But word around the county is that you’ll have to sell up to pay the rest of your loan. Big risk mortgaging a property. And then to mortgage your herd just to buy one single head of livestock. You’d have been better off either renting a bull from one of your neighbors or just buying some scrub bull. Doesn’t matter what kind of calf you get, as long as you keep the cows in milk production.”
The smell of coffee brewing filled the kitchen, but Inge made no move to pour a cup for Mr. Siddons.
Mr. Siddons turned to Oscar. “You could do better by your place, too. All that land along the river, I’d let some firewood cutters in there to clear-cut those trees. You get the money from the firewood and bring more acres into farming production. I tell you, so many farmers around here are stuck in the old ways. Bigger farms, more crops, modern methods. That’s what we need. We’re growing a nation, and we need to move along with the times.”
Oscar spread his hands on the table and levered himself up. “Mr. Siddons, you’ve made your offer and your views plain. Now, I hope you’ll excuse us. It’s coming up on chore time, and we have a lot to do.” He walked to the door and opened it.
Siddons sat for a moment, looking from one face to another, then levered himself upright. “Fine, fine.” He donned his gloves, pressing the gaps between his fingers to fit them on snugly. “You’ll keep me in mind,
though. I’ll match anyone’s price.”
“Good day, Mr. Siddons.” Martin scooted his chair back.
As the buggy drove away, Liesl tugged on Oscar’s pant leg. He lifted her up on his arm.
“Daddy, I don’t like that man. He’s scary.”
Kate stood at his elbow, watching the departing buggy. She hugged herself, rubbing her upper arms, eyes troubled. She had so much to worry about, and now this.
Oscar found himself wanting to put his arm around her, to shield her from the life-blows she’d been taking.
Which brought him up short. What was he doing thinking about a woman that way? His heart belonged to Gaelle, and it always would. He had no business having tender feelings for anyone else. What was wrong with him?
“I’ve got chores to do and then I need to get into the workroom. Orders are backing up with all the time I’ve been spending on other things.” He let Liesl slide to the ground, but in spite of cautioning himself, his thoughts were still on Kate and his reaction to her.
The death of her husband, the house fire, the awful letter from Martin’s brother, the casual way Siddons had come in and scythed through their achievements and dreams. Those were hard things, but they weren’t really his concern. He’d done more than he’d intended already—housing her, feeding her, even clothing her. That was neighborly, and that was also where he drew the line. He’d share his material possessions up to a point, but he would not share his heart. That belonged entirely to his dead wife.
He needed to be by himself to get his head on straight. Too much time spent with the widow Amaker was making him forget himself.
CHAPTER NINE
Kate handed Liesl the red pencil, and the little girl marked a red X through November 30 on the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall. It was hard to believe that almost a month had gone by since their house had burned, since they’d moved in with the Rabbs.
“It’s almost time, isn’t it?” Liesl hopped off the chair, her braids flopping. “To tear off ’Vember so it can be December?”
