Together Forever

by Jody Hedlund

  He smiled in return, not the dimpled, self-assured smile that only belonged to Drew. But the calm, steady smile Reinhold always had—one that never failed to make her heart sing. He brought the wagon to a jerking halt, jumped from the bench, and went to her at the same time she ran to him.

  She launched herself against him and threw her arms around his neck. When his stocky arms came around her, she gave a squeal. “It is you!”

  He hugged her for a long moment. She waited for the usual feeling of heavenly bliss she’d always felt whenever he’d hugged her in the past. But the heart singing and the heavenly bliss were absent. She held him tightly, trying to conjure the depths of her feelings, knowing it would just take a moment. After all, she hadn’t seen him since last autumn, and a lot had happened since then.

  She pressed her face into his neck, hoping the contact would elicit her long-buried feelings. She expected him to peel himself away. But he didn’t seem in a hurry to break the connection either.

  “Looks like you and Miss Neumann have a thing going,” Liverpool cajoled from the wagon bench.

  At the boy’s crude words, Reinhold released her and took a rapid step back. He was still smiling, but his expression turned strangely shy. “I didn’t know you were in the area until today,” he said, his voice thickening with his German accent, “or I would have come to visit you.”

  She ignored a thorn of guilt that pricked her. She’d been in Mayfield close to two weeks and hadn’t made an effort to seek him out even though she’d known he was living here. She’d been busy, she told herself. Without Drew’s assistance, she’d had too much to do.

  “Do you live on this farm?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t ask her why she hadn’t sought him out.

  “Yes. I work for the Turners.” He regarded her, starting at her hat and working his way down to the muddy tips of her boots showing beneath the soiled hem of her skirt. An appreciation lit the green of his eyes, turning them the color of dark moss.

  For years, she’d longed to see that kind of look in his eyes—the one that said he saw her as a woman and not just a sister. But now that it was there, she squirmed with a sudden bashfulness she hadn’t expected.

  “How are you?” she asked. “Are you enjoying your work as a farmer?”

  Instead of answering, he nodded at Liverpool. “Why don’t you drive the team over to the barn and start unhitching the mares? I’ll be over to help you soon.”

  Liverpool scooted over on the bench eagerly and grabbed the reins. Once the wagon started rolling, Reinhold stared after it almost as if he regretted sending the boy away.

  “Aren’t you glad to see me, Reinhold?” she asked.

  “Yes, very.” He glanced at her again but then just as rapidly returned his attention to Liverpool. “You look so grown up and pretty in your fancy dress.”

  “Thank you.” Marianne swished her skirt back and forth, appreciating the gentle sway of the hoop and the loveliness of the silky material. She adored the new clothes. While she still missed many things about her old life with her family in New York City, she didn’t miss the coarse peasant-like garments that most of the German immigrants wore.

  “Farming life seems to agree with you,” she said. He was sun-bronzed and muscular and more handsome than she remembered.

  “I’m hoping to buy my own place.” He stuck his hands in his trousers and shifted. “Looks like it will take more time than I wanted, but I hope to have enough saved by the end of the year.”

  “That’s wonderful, Reinhold. I’m so happy for you.” And she meant it.

  He cleared his throat. “I want to bring Silke and Verina to live with me as soon as I have a place. And maybe Peter and Jakob, if they’ll come.”

  “I’m sorry about your mother,” she replied softly. Mrs. Weiss had been too delicate for the toils of the new life in America. The problems and worries had drained the life from her until all that remained was a shell of the beautiful woman she’d once been.

  “Praise Gott my Tante Brunhilde will take care of the girls until October.”

  Marianne couldn’t think of Tante Brunhilde without bitterness forming in the pit of her stomach. She realized she’d deceived the woman with the fake pregnancy and claimed to be Reinhold’s fiancée. Even so, Reinhold’s aunt was heartless and hadn’t shown an ounce of compassion when Marianne had most needed it. Thankfully, Tante Brunhilde was being kinder to Reinhold.

  “October will be here soon,” Marianne said.

  Reinhold toed a rock sticking up in the mud. “Marianne,” he started, then stopped.

  She didn’t understand this awkwardness between them. They’d always been able to relate freely. What had changed?

  “Marianne,” he said again, embarrassment turning his voice deeper.

  “What is it, Reinhold?” She touched his arm, wanting to reassure him that he had nothing to fear from her. If he had something to tell her, he could do so. Surely he knew that.

  He laid his hand over hers and looked into her eyes. “Will you marry me?”

  The question pummeled into her with the force of a steam whistle blast. She tried to formulate a response but only grasped at the air.

  From behind her, inside the house at one of the open windows, she thought she heard a cry of protest. But when she glanced over her shoulder, the only thing she saw was the fluttering of a curtain.

  “I promise I’ll give you a good life and that I’ll be a good husband,” he said more earnestly. “And I’m sure over time we’ll grow to love each other deeply.”

  She was speechless and could only stare at him in wonder. She’d always imagined him asking her to marry him, had longed for it so intensely. “I sent you a letter last year . . .” She was now embarrassed to admit that the letter had contained her declaration of love. She’d waited for the chance to ask him why he’d never written back, but realized it didn’t matter anymore. Perhaps she was finally able to accept what she’d always known—that he liked Elise more than he had her.

  Nevertheless, now that he was actually proposing, she wasn’t reacting quite the way she’d envisioned with the scream, the jumping up and down, and the tears of joy. Instead, she was filled with uncertainty.

  What about Drew? Even if Drew had told her to forget about him, even if her heart still ached with his rejection, she couldn’t so easily put aside all that had happened between them and the feelings she still harbored, although she wished she didn’t.

  Reinhold’s fingers against hers were strong and secure. “I never received your letter, Marianne.” His expression was open and honest. “If I had, I would have written back.”

  She believed him. He was too honorable and too kind to ignore her. And she had no doubt he’d be a good husband and that he would continue to be honorable, kind, and loving in every way. But was that enough for her?

  “I don’t know,” she started. Before she could finish her sentence, he pulled her against his chest, wrapped his arms around her, and lowered his mouth to hers. His touch was surprisingly tender and poignant. And it was over in an instant.

  He held her close, and she laid her head against his shoulder, tasting the lingering warmth of his kiss on her lips. She’d always dreamed of what it would be like to kiss Reinhold. She’d expected it to change her, to make her feel like she’d been turned inside out and upside down—like Drew’s kisses had. But strangely, Reinhold’s kiss felt anticlimactic, almost brotherly.

  If she allowed more time, would passion develop between them? She was clearly thinking of Drew too much to have room in her heart for another. Maybe eventually she’d stop caring for Drew. And maybe once she forgot about Drew, she’d regain her feelings for Reinhold.

  But what if she couldn’t stop thinking about Drew? That wouldn’t be fair to Reinhold.

  As if sensing her inner turmoil, Reinhold extended her to arm’s length and met her gaze without pretense. “I need a mother for Silke and Verina.” There was a quiet desperation in his eyes that told her the truth about his proposa
l, that the real reason he was asking her to marry him was because he needed someone to care for his sisters.

  How could she say no to that? And yet how could she say yes?

  “I don’t want you to think that’s the only reason I’m asking for your hand in marriage,” he rushed to add. “But it is there, and I want to be honest with you.”

  Reinhold was offering her marriage. It was what she’d always wanted. Until she met Drew. She closed her eyes for just a second, but it was long enough to picture Drew’s handsome face, his devastating grin, and the bottomless excitement in his eyes.

  But no. He’d led her on and then rejected her. In the end, he’d failed the challenge. He hadn’t wanted her enough to fight for her. Swallowing the helpless frustration that taunted her too often of late, she pushed the picture of him from her mind and tried to focus on Reinhold.

  Maybe if she accepted Reinhold’s offer, Drew would hear of it. And maybe, just maybe, he’d regret giving her up.

  “Yes,” she said impulsively, almost defiantly. “I’ll marry you.”

  Reinhold lowered his gaze, but not before she saw the guilt there. She knew he felt remorse for proposing marriage because he needed her more than he loved her, but she appreciated his honesty.

  “I promise I’ll work hard to be the best husband you could ask for.”

  “I know you will.” She pressed a hand against his cheek.

  Perhaps her time with Drew this summer had been an infatuation, a distraction from her real destiny with Reinhold. And now that she was finally here with Reinhold, she simply needed a little more time to get back on the right track and allow her feelings to catch up.

  When she started to drop her hand, Reinhold reached for it and held it in place against his cheek. “I’ll help you find Sophie and Olivia and Nicholas. They can come to live with us too.”

  She smiled. “I’d like that.”

  He smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners with relief. As he moved her hand to his mouth and gently pressed a kiss to her palm, she waited for her heart to give an extra thud or her pulse to jump in her chest. She waited to feel something—anything—for this sweet, tenderhearted man standing before her.

  But all she could think about was another man sitting in a jail cell and how desperately she wanted to see him. One last time.

  Chapter 22

  Marianne had been waiting so long next to the granary that her feet ached and her stomach rumbled from hunger. She’d expected the sheriff to leave long ago for lunch, relieved by his deputy. But he hadn’t come out of the office yet.

  After her visit with Reinhold yesterday—and his proposal of marriage—she’d thought of little else but seeing Drew. She knew it wasn’t right to be engaged to one man and obsessed with another, which was why she needed to see Drew. She had to put him out of her mind once and for all. If she could see him one last time, then she’d be able to move on and marry Reinhold.

  He’d said he wanted to marry her as soon as possible. But she wanted to wait until after she’d finished her follow-up with the orphans. She was planning to leave tomorrow for Benton to visit the first children they’d placed in homes, including Dorothea. Then she’d finish in Dresden with the handful who had been placed there.

  She’d collect Jethro from Quincy and stop in Mayfield again on her way back. She’d marry Reinhold and spend a few days with him before she returned to New York City to find Silke and Verina. She’d have to begin the job search all over again and would likely have to rely upon Thornton’s connections rather than her own merits. But she was not so proud that she wouldn’t accept his help, especially because she’d have to take care of Reinhold’s sisters along with Jethro until Reinhold was able to send for them. She’d told Reinhold about Jethro, and he was as willing to take the boy as she knew he would be.

  Even though she’d already determined to make this her last trip with the Children’s Aid Society, she had to admit that the thought of not working with the orphans saddened her. The placing out had been wrought with difficulties and disappointments, but she realized that she loved working with the children more than anything else she’d ever done. Perhaps she’d eventually be able to find work helping orphans in another capacity.

  In the meantime, the need to see Drew had overtaken her to the point that she hadn’t been able to focus on anything else. Although he’d said he didn’t want to see her again and sent her away, she needed to say good-bye for her peace of mind. But she couldn’t do that with the sheriff in the building. He’d likely end up sending her away again.

  She fanned her face with one of her gloves she’d removed. She’d taken great care with her appearance, had wanted to look her best when she visited Drew. But now in the hot morning sunshine of early July, she was wilting.

  Maybe she would have to go over and demand to see Drew whether the sheriff allowed it or not.

  She took a step away from her hiding spot, and at that moment the door of the sheriff’s office opened. She darted out of sight, pressed herself against the metal of the storage container, and counted to five before peeking across the street.

  At the sight of the sheriff and a distinguished-looking gentleman leading Drew between them down the street, Marianne gasped in surprise. Drew’s head hung so that she couldn’t see his face, yet she could see the haggardness of his appearance, his uncombed hair, unshaven jaw, and rumpled filthy garments. He limped along slowly and could hardly walk, even with the aid of the two men on either side.

  Marianne moved onto the street. She wanted to call out to him, but she didn’t want to make a public spectacle. Already she guessed everyone in town was watching and gossiping about the accused murderer walking through town. All she could do was follow his every faltering step with the ache in her chest growing, until the men ushered him inside the private vacant residence at the end of the block.

  Once he disappeared from her sight, she slumped against the granary. Was that the judge? Had they taken Drew away for questioning? Did that mean his trial would take place soon? Although she dreaded the thought of the trial, she didn’t want to miss it.

  Maybe she would have to postpone her trip to Benton. She stared at the front door of the large new home. She’d heard that a banker had planned to move to Mayfield to live in it. But after the recession in the fall, the banker had fallen on hard times. He was no longer moving to Mayfield and was attempting to sell the massive home he’d built, except none of the simple townspeople could afford such an extravagant residence.

  Did she dare walk down to the house, knock on the front door, and ask to see Drew?

  Before she could make up her mind, the sheriff came out and started back toward his office. She hadn’t expected him to reappear so soon, had thought he’d stand guard and eventually bring Drew back to the jail.

  But now he was just the person she needed to speak with. He’d have information about Drew’s predicament, the trial dates, and what would happen next.

  “Sheriff!” she called, picking up her skirts and hustling in his direction.

  He cast her a cursory glance but continued with his purposeful stride.

  She fell into step next to him. “I’d like to know what is happening to Andrew Brady.”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Sheriff,” she said, unable to contain her exasperation, “I have every right to know what’s going on. He’s my erstwhile fellow employee.” And erstwhile fiancé.

  The sheriff lengthened his short stride, and she struggled to keep up. “He’s in capable hands now, and that’s all you need to know.”

  “Whose hands? The judge’s?”

  “No, his father’s.”

  Marianne stopped. The sheriff walked ahead without her.

  Drew’s father was here? Her body sagged with relief. She spun and examined the house at the end of the street again. So Mr. Brady had received her telegram? He must have left immediately. She could only imagine how long of a train trip it was from Georgia to Illinois.

&
nbsp; Now that he was here, he’d be able to find a way to help Drew. As a lawyer, he’d know what to do. He’d be able to prove that Drew was innocent and save him from needless pain.

  Should she go and introduce herself? She took several steps toward the fancy house, but then halted. Uncertainty swirled around her as thick as the hot prairie breeze. She’d wait a little while, give Drew and his father time to talk before she imposed on their reunion.

  Disappointment choked Drew. He stared unseeingly out the second-story window, his hands stuffed into his trousers.

  Behind him, his father’s slaves were working silently to carry away the dirty bathwater. In addition to the long and hot bath his father had ordered, his father also paid a barber to come and give him a haircut and shave.

  The bay rum scent of the aftershave lotion lingered on his skin, eradicating the stench of his filth and the prison cell.

  Once again, his father had come to bail him out of his troubles. At the first sight of his father walking into the back room of the sheriff’s office so clean-cut and confident, Drew had sucked in a bitter breath and the bitterness had only grown with each passing hour.

  Somehow his father had found out about his predicament. Drew had told him to leave him and go back home. “You’re acting like a child,” his father had said in his no-nonsense tone. “Stop the wallowing, pick yourself up, and start behaving like a man.”

  “I’m a murderer,” Drew had said in reply. “You can pay everyone off like you did last time, but it won’t change who I am.”

  “I’m not paying anyone off.” His father’s face looked older, more lined, and harder than five years ago when Drew had last seen him. “These people have no compelling evidence to hold you in jail. Without solid proof beyond the hearsay of an unreliable and highly volatile orphan boy, who is a convicted criminal himself, they have no legal recourse for imprisoning you.”

  “I turned myself in.”

  “For what? Because once again you feel responsible for the loss of a life?”