Searching for You

by Jody Hedlund

  Besides, her first priority, as always, was with Olivia and Nicholas. She had to be ready to do anything for them.

  A moment later, Euphemia slowed the wagon in front of a two-story home and adjacent barn a short distance off the road. At the sign above the barn, Ramsey’s Carpenter Workshop, Sophie sat forward.

  This was it, Olivia and Nicholas’s new home.

  She scanned the tidy front yard with several oak trees providing shade and sheltering a simple but sturdy home. It wasn’t big but was well-kept with a fresh coat of white paint. A picket fence enclosed a big garden behind the house. The hedges and flowers and trees were all trimmed to perfection without a weed in sight. The privy behind the garden looked like it too had been recently painted. Beyond the cleared land stretched a tangle of shrubs and evergreens, likely the reason a carpenter and not a farmer had claimed the lot.

  The barn wasn’t as big as the Duffs’, but the double doors were open and revealed a workshop and several pieces of furniture—a bedpost, a dresser, and a nightstand. Although Sophie wasn’t an expert, she could see that Mr. Ramsey’s workmanship was top quality.

  As Euphemia pulled their wagon to a stop, Mr. Ramsey stepped out of the barn. He was wearing a leather apron and wiping his hands with a towel. Without his hat, his receding hairline made his forehead bigger and his moles stand out.

  “Afternoon,” Euphemia said pleasantly.

  Mr. Ramsey didn’t return the greeting but instead assessed them with open mistrust.

  Sophie peered into the barn, hoping for a glimpse of Nicholas. Surely he’d be completely fascinated watching his new father at work, playing in the piles of saw shavings or whittling at his own little creations.

  But a strange quietness greeted them. Not only was the barn silent, but the house and yard were too. Perhaps Sophie was just accustomed to all the noises on the Duff farm—the cackles of the chickens, the grunts of pigs and cows, the clattering of Euphemia in the kitchen, the boisterous laughter and teasing of the boys, even the constant whir of grasshoppers.

  Whatever the case, the silence was unnatural, and it unnerved her.

  “Since we were close by in town, I told Sophie I’d bring her over to see her wee sister and brother. She’s been missing them terribly and—”

  “They’re not her brother and sister,” Mr. Ramsey interrupted. “They said they’re no relation at all to the girl.”

  Euphemia’s mouth hung open for several seconds before she closed it.

  Anxiety shot through Sophie. Should she contradict Mr. Ramsey and perpetuate the lie? She didn’t want to disappoint Euphemia, didn’t want the woman to dislike her. Already she’d given Euphemia enough hassle with all her deficits.

  “Of course the wee bairns aren’t Sophie’s real brother and sister,” Euphemia said before Sophie could decide how to respond. “Anyone can see so by looking at them. But they’re family anyway. It’s love that bonds people, not blood.”

  It was Sophie’s turn to be surprised. Euphemia surely hadn’t known she was lying all along, had she? Maybe Euphemia had guessed on Sunday after Sophie’s interaction with the children.

  “Don’t matter.” Mr. Ramsey crossed his arms as if he dared them to defy him. “They don’t want to see the girl.”

  “Of course they want to see me.” Sophie’s backbone stiffened at the challenge, and she began climbing down. “Go tell them I’m here or I’ll go find them myself.”

  Euphemia caught hold of her arm before she could hoist herself off the bench. “Och now, dinnae be rushing to fight, either one of you.”

  Sophie held herself motionless on the edge of the bench, wanting to run to the house and barge inside before Mr. Ramsey could stop her. But a new sense of loyalty to Euphemia kept her from acting on her impulse.

  “I’m sure Mr. Ramsey won’t mind letting the children come outside briefly, now, will you, Mr. Ramsey?” Euphemia’s tone hinted he’d better allow it or she’d force her way into the house for Sophie.

  Mr. Ramsey clamped his mouth closed before regarding them both with disdain. “They’re not home right now.”

  Sophie glanced at the house, noting again the unusual silence and stillness. “Where are they?”

  “Gone visiting neighbors with their new mother and sister.” The lift of Mr. Ramsey’s chin taunted Sophie to defy him.

  She was tempted to spit in his face but held herself back for Euphemia’s sake.

  After a long moment of tense silence, Euphemia finally nodded. “Very well then. I guess we’ll have to call again another day.”

  Mr. Ramsey didn’t answer, but his expression told them they weren’t welcome, that he didn’t want them coming back.

  Euphemia gathered the reins and prodded the team forward. As they turned onto the road leading back into town, Sophie’s throat tightened with a disappointment so keen that she wanted to weep. She stared at the house, her arms aching to hold the children, her heart demanding to know they were happy and secure.

  With a father like Mr. Ramsey, how could they be happy? Had she made a terrible mistake by allowing them to live with such a coldhearted man?

  At a slight movement in the corner room of the second story, Sophie thought she saw a hand let go of the curtains and a face move out of sight. Her heartbeat sped. Was someone home after all?

  Even as the wagon rolled away, Sophie craned her neck toward the window, praying for another glimpse. But if there had been someone, they didn’t move again.

  While she had no proof Mr. Ramsey was lying about the children not being home, the strong survival instincts she’d honed over the past two years told her that something wasn’t right.

  “Dinnae worry, lass,” Euphemia said as she adjusted her rounded frame on the bench and settled in for the ride back to the farm. “Mr. Ramsey might be a wee bit difficult, but I believe he wants to do well by the children.”

  “He’s not doing them well by refusing to let them see me.” Sophie was unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “I’m the only mother they’ve ever known, the only family they’ve ever had . . .” Sophie’s voice cracked on the harsh edge of a sob. Embarrassed at the slip of emotion, she cleared her throat.

  “There now, lass.”

  The gentleness in the woman’s tone brought unexpected tears to Sophie’s eyes. She had to blink rapidly to keep them at bay.

  “It could be Mr. Ramsey thinks by cutting the children off from you in one swoop that he’s giving them a fresh start. Maybe he believes this way they’ll be quicker to forget about their past and quicker to accept a new family.”

  “I don’t want them to forget about me,” Sophie managed past her tight throat.

  Euphemia’s warm, strong fingers enveloped Sophie’s. “You’ve loved them hard and well, lass. They’ll never forget that. Never.”

  Chapter 11

  The toe-tapping rhythm of the fiddle should have drawn Reinhold into the barn. Instead, it pushed him outside—to safety, to seclusion. To the solitary life he’d carved out for himself.

  Perched on the paddock fence, he gripped the rough grain under his hands. From here, with his feet hooked under the next post, he had the perfect position in the waning light of evening to see the spread of the farm, including the barn. Horses and wagons were hitched here and there throughout the yard. The neighbors from all around couldn’t resist the opportunity to congregate after a long week of harvesting. But he should have resisted.

  “We have too much work to do,” Reinhold had told Jakob after Fergus came over to inform them of the gathering at the Levelle farm.

  Jakob hadn’t said anything, had only gone back to shoveling out the pigpen, looking so wounded and forlorn that Reinhold had relented an hour later when he could no longer stand the silence.

  Reinhold had told himself his change of mind had nothing to do with Fergus’s declaration that Sophie would be at the party. But the truth was, he hadn’t been able to put her out of his mind all week. He’d thought of her when he was cutting oats in the fields, w
hen he was mucking the stalls in the barn, when he was scraping his meager attempts at dinner from his plate, and even when he was lying on his bed in the dead of the night.

  He could admit he’d liked being with her during dinner last weekend and talking with her afterward. He’d relished the walk to the pond and watching the sunset together. In the past, as the youngest of the Neumann sisters, he hadn’t talked with her much except to tease her. But during their time together on Sunday, he’d shared more with her in one evening than he had with anyone else in an entire year.

  Somehow his view of her had shifted and she’d become a friend. Not only could they converse easily, but she was a connection to his past, to his family, and to his people. After all, they’d both come from the old country as young children. They’d both had to adjust to a new language, a different way of life in America, and to a city overflowing with too many desperate people. They could relate to each other in a way he couldn’t with anyone else.

  Being with her had made Reinhold realize just how much he missed having someone who understood him. He missed having someone to talk to. And he missed having someone to listen to and care about. Elise had once been that person for him. And now, strangely, Sophie had stepped into his life, and in a single day had easily slipped into the empty place, almost as if she’d been made for it.

  His gaze drifted again to the open barn doors and to the swirl of dancers and onlookers clapping their hands and stomping their feet in rhythm to the fiddle. He spied Sophie dancing with Lyle, whose bearded face was flushed as red as the stripes in his flannel shirt. Reinhold had never seen Lyle smile so broadly or his eyes sparkle with as much pleasure as they had since he’d asked Sophie to dance and she’d said yes.

  Reinhold knew he should be happy for his friend. If this had been any other barn party and if Lyle had been dancing with any other girl, Reinhold might have chuckled at his friend’s exuberance. But tonight, the longer Lyle danced with Sophie, the less Reinhold felt like laughing. In fact, the longer Lyle danced with her, the stronger Reinhold’s urge grew to go inside and cut into his dance.

  Sophie wouldn’t ever get serious about a man like Lyle. Sure, she was smiling and laughing and having a good time, but she wasn’t attracted to him—at least Reinhold didn’t think so. And he didn’t want Lyle to get his heart broken with a rejection from Sophie.

  Besides, Lyle wasn’t the right man for Sophie. Lyle was kindhearted and hardworking and would make some woman a good husband. Just not Sophie. She was too spirited and independent and strong-tempered.

  She hooked arms with Lyle and spun. The lanterns hanging from the barn rafters seemed to shine directly on her, highlighting her beauty. She was easily the prettiest woman there.

  Which was why he needed to go in and break up the dance. He couldn’t allow Lyle or any other local farm boy to try to win Sophie. She wasn’t meant to live on a farm and endure the kind of hard work required of a farmwife. With Elise and Marianne now married to wealthy men, they would want more for Sophie than this kind of life. They’d seek out opportunities for her to move up in status just as they had. They’d be able to introduce her to eligible young men in their social circles who would provide everything Sophie wanted and make sure she never lacked for anything ever again.

  Maybe farm life was good enough for him, Lyle, and Euphemia. But Sophie deserved so much more than this.

  Reinhold unhooked his boots, released his hold on the post, and jumped down into the dry grass. In the shadows outside the barn, a young couple stood locked in an embrace. At his approach, they pulled away from each other.

  Reinhold pretended not to see them. With how busy they all were, there were few opportunities for courting. He couldn’t begrudge the young people their time together. Not that he needed time alone with Sophie. Even if he had taken pleasure from the walk with her last Sunday, his intentions had been friendly. Just as they were now.

  He stepped into the spacious barn and hovered at the fringe, feeling suddenly awkward and nervous. Euphemia, Mrs. Levelle, and several other matrons stood behind a food table off to one side. It was filled with an assortment of baked goods that was likely one of the reasons Jakob had been so eager to attend the party. Even now the boy sat with his friends on hay bales in the loft, eating an enormous piece of cake.

  Gavin and other younger men stood in a group eyeing the girls who weren’t partnered up yet. They teased and dared one another, not yet ready for serious relationships but certainly beginning to lay their claims.

  Barclay’s boisterous voice resounded from the open entrance at the back of the barn, where he drank cider with neighboring farmers. They were laughing and teasing, having shaken off their worries, especially the constant pressure of hoping the weather and the passing of time would cooperate to allow a bountiful harvest.

  Reinhold only wished he could shake off his worries as easily as the other men, even if just for one night. But the urgency of all he had left to do was a constant companion, reminding him that he needed to leave the party soon so he could fix the handle on a shovel and patch a hole in his work boot.

  Reinhold scanned the dancers and easily found Sophie. Her blond hair stood out like a halo, tendrils framing her face, now flushed from dancing. Although she wore a plain blue dress that had no ribbons or frills, the simplicity only made her natural beauty more pronounced.

  As the notes of the fiddle faded with the end of the song, Reinhold wound through the dancers.

  Sophie spotted his approach before Lyle did, and a welcoming smile lit her face. “Jakob said you were here, but I didn’t see you anywhere.”

  The thought that she’d been looking for him made his insides do a strange flip. “I wasn’t planning on dancing, but I could tell Lyle needed a break. He keeps eyeing the cake table every time he passes it.”

  Lyle grinned but shook his head. “I’ll get some later.”

  The fiddler began a new song, a slower tune. Lyle reached for Sophie, but Reinhold took hold of her arm.

  “Are you sure you shouldn’t get some dessert now?” Reinhold asked lightly, even though something inside began to coil tightly. For all his excuses, the truth was he didn’t want to share Sophie with anyone else. She was his friend, and he wanted her all to himself. He wanted to spend time with her again, wanted to talk to her, see her smile and hear her laughter.

  “With Jakob here eating everything,” Reinhold continued, “you might miss out if you don’t get something now.”

  Sophie’s fingers slid around Reinhold’s arm, and she sidled closer. The motion, although small, was apparently enough to let Lyle know whom she preferred. His grin slipped away, and he moved back a step.

  Reinhold shifted Sophie around so they were facing each other, and he rested his hands on her hips. She lifted her hands to his shoulders and smiled up at him. “Let’s see what kind of dancer you are.”

  “Not as good as Lyle,” Reinhold said so that his friend could hear him and hopefully forgive him for interrupting his good time. “I’ll probably bruise your toes by the time we’re done with the dance.”

  As he began to move away with Sophie, he met Lyle’s gaze over her head. Lyle’s eyes were full of questions, and his brow furrowed. Reinhold silently pleaded with his friend to understand.

  Lyle spun and shouldered his way through the other dancers, making a line for the door. Reinhold was tempted to run after him. But what could he say? How could he explain his actions when he didn’t quite understand them himself?

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Euphemia watching Lyle’s exit and knew she’d witnessed their exchange. When she glanced back at Reinhold, he expected censure or even condemnation to cross the woman’s face. Instead, she didn’t seem the least surprised to see him with Sophie.

  Sophie drew his attention back to her with her lively chatter and the excitement shining in her eyes. They danced through several songs, and the friendship he’d experienced with her last Sunday fell into place as easily as before.

  When the
y took a break to eat, she told him about her futile trip to the Ramseys’, her worry over Olivia and Nicholas, and how she missed her friend Anna, who’d gone to live with another family whose name Reinhold didn’t recognize.

  She asked him about his week and all the work he’d done. Although Sophie reminded him in many ways of Elise, she was also quite different. She listened better and was present in the conversation in a way Elise had never been. Elise had always held herself back. She’d been independent and stubborn and determined. Maybe she simply hadn’t needed him the same way he had her.

  Whatever the case, Sophie made him feel as if what he had to say was important. And he liked the way her eyes sparked with life and admiration when she looked up at him.

  They danced again. And whenever anyone else dared to approach Sophie, Reinhold scared them away with a glare.

  “You’re not bad,” Sophie said as the fiddler began to play a slow ballad.

  He peered down at her face. Her delicate nose and slender cheeks and perfect lips were only inches away. “I’m not bad?”

  “You’re not a bad dancer.”

  “Believe it or not, I’ve been to a few parties over the past year.” When he’d lived with the Duffs, Lyle dragged him to husking bees and other barn dances every chance he could.

  She tilted her head slightly. “I’m surprised you’re not married yet, especially with the way all the young ladies here look at you like you’re their next piece of cake.”

  Were they? He doubted it. But did he detect a note of jealousy in Sophie’s voice?

  “I suppose that means you’re still in love with Elise.” She searched his face intently.

  “Elise will always have a special place in my heart,” he admitted. “But no, I don’t love her anymore, at least not in the same way.”

  “Then you love Marianne?”

  “No, we were never anything more than friends.”