Searching for You

by Jody Hedlund

  “Good.” He looked down at her fingers curled around his bicep.

  After her kiss in the field two days ago, she hoped he’d sense she wasn’t opposed to more in their relationship. But he’d kept a polite and friendly boundary between them whenever they interacted.

  “You don’t have to sleep out here, you know,” she said shyly. “The mattress is big enough for both of us, especially now that I’ve stuffed it.”

  He inhaled a sharp breath and held himself motionless for a long moment. Finally he mumbled something strangled and hurried out of the barn as if the walls were on fire and crumbling in on him.

  As the door closed behind him, embarrassment filled her. She wished she hadn’t said anything to him about the sleeping arrangements. She didn’t want things to be awkward between them, not when they had a comfortable friendship. Even so, she had to give him some hints of her attraction, didn’t she?

  “Find out the things he likes. Learn what pleases him.” Euphemia’s advice whispered in her head. She couldn’t rush him, even though she wanted to. Instead, she had to show him she cared in the small things.

  By the time Jakob and Reinhold had the horse and wagon ready, she’d managed to put together another basket for them, this one filled with hard-boiled eggs, cheese, biscuits and jam, and a few apples. She stood in the farmyard, basket in hand, as the wagon lumbered forward, the back piled high with the oats.

  Through the growing light of dawn, she waited for the wagon to draw near before approaching and lifting the basket. “I’ve prepared something to tide you over to supper.”

  She was surprised when Reinhold halted, climbed down, and met her.

  “Thank you, Sophie.” He took the basket from her, his eyes lighting with appreciation.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s enough—”

  “It’ll be better than nothing, which is what we took last time we went to the mill.” He then gave her one of his rare smiles, and her insides warmed in spite of the chilled air.

  “It’s the least I could do.”

  He studied her for a moment, his smile fading. “If anything happens, do you know how to find the Duffs’ place from here?”

  Did she detect a note of worry? “Yes, I think I can make my way there.”

  “Maybe I’ll stop by and ask Euphemia to send Fergus over at noon to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’ll be fine.” He was worried about her. She smiled at the realization. “This farm is like heaven compared to some of the places I’ve lived.”

  His brows pinched together. “But you’ll be alone all day.”

  “I’ll keep busy. And I have the animals for company.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She bridged the span between them and pressed her hand to his cheek. “I can take care of myself, Reinhold. I’m not a little girl anymore.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Soph.” The low timbre of his voice made her quiver. And when his eyes dropped to her lips and lingered there, the growing warmth within her spread into her limbs.

  Before he could take a step back, she reached for him and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. A hug was platonic enough, wasn’t it? Surely she couldn’t embarrass either of them with a simple embrace.

  His arms caught her and returned the hug. She relished every second of it, but then forced herself to loosen her hold. “I’ll miss you today.” The admission was out before she could stop it.

  He didn’t release her. His fingers dug into her shawl at her back, and he pressed his lips against her crown.

  She closed her eyes, wanting to lean into him and lift her mouth so he would kiss her there too. But with Jakob waiting on the wagon bench and watching them, she simply let herself bask in his nearness.

  When finally he released her, he spun and climbed back onto the bench. He settled the basket on the floor between himself and Jakob and started down a worn path.

  With the imprint of his lips lingering on her forehead, she watched them ride away, hugging her arms across her chest and wishing she still held Reinhold.

  The bulge of money in Reinhold’s pocket made him sit taller as he rode away from the gristmill. The day had been never-ending, filled with a long, silent drive to Dresden, and then filled with an even longer wait for a turn at the mill.

  But in the end, all the waiting had been worth it. He’d turned a sizable profit from the oats and only hoped his wheat and corn would do the same.

  Now he and Jakob were heading home. To Sophie.

  Somehow the thought that Sophie was there waiting for him in the house he’d built, that she’d greet him with her cheerful smile and dish him up a hot meal drew a breath of satisfaction from his lungs.

  The wagon rattled loudly now that it was empty of its heavy load. Without the weight of the oats, Daisy would be able to go faster for the return ride—at least he hoped so.

  In the gray of the evening, Dresden’s main thoroughfare was quiet, many of the shops having already closed for the day. The waft of roast beef and gravy lingered in the chilled air, making Reinhold’s stomach rumble, inadvertently pulling his attention to the brightly lit windows of the tavern.

  He and Jakob had eaten every crumb of food Sophie packed for them hours ago. He could still envision her shy expression when she’d handed him the basket, as though she truly cared about him and wanted to make his life better.

  He had to admit, he hadn’t expected much from Sophie given how young and inexperienced she was. He’d assumed she’d be another person for him to take care of the way he’d taken care of everyone else in his life. He hadn’t realized she’d pay attention to his needs.

  Yet she’d been sweet and thoughtful since the first day he’d brought her home. She’d managed the upkeep of the house and had started doing some of Jakob’s chores. She not only delivered meals to him and Jakob in the field, but she’d also cooked him breakfast and brought it to the barn.

  She most certainly wasn’t a burden. In fact, he was surprised again at how much he was looking forward to seeing her when they arrived home. He was eager to tell her about the day, share the news he’d picked up as he talked with other farmers, and to see the glimmer in her eyes when he showed her his profit. She’d be proud of him, and his heart swelled at the thought.

  The wagon rumbled past the general store. Even though the sign on the door said Closed, the shop light illuminated merchandise in a window display. His sights snagged on a fashionable woman’s hat decorated with silk ribbons and flowers. Such a fine hat would look mighty pretty on Sophie.

  He patted the bulge in his pocket. Beyond the front display, the storekeeper stood behind his counter, his head bent over his ledgers.

  Reinhold slowed the wagon. If he tapped on the door, the owner would surely open up and let him purchase the hat. After Sophie’s kindness, he wanted to give her something in return. During her time living on the streets and in the asylums, he doubted she’d gotten many gifts, especially something as fine as a new hat.

  His lungs constricted at the remembrance of her tousled hair that morning, the golden wisps that had framed her delicate face. Her comment about the bed being big enough for both of them clanged through his mind as it had a dozen other times that day, along with her statement, “I’ll miss you.”

  When she hugged him good-bye, he’d had to pry himself loose. And as he’d ridden away, he hadn’t dared look at her again for fear he’d jump down, gather her in his arms, and kiss her until they were both breathless.

  “Are we stopping?” Jakob asked from the bench beside him. The boy sat with his elbows resting on his knees, attempting to read an old newspaper left behind at the gristmill by another farmer.

  Reinhold tugged on the reins. Yes, he’d do it. He’d buy the hat and surprise Sophie with it when he got home. Before he could bring the wagon to a complete halt, his sights fell upon a woman and her husband strolling hand in hand a short distance away. Her hat was similar to the one in the store window, but even more extravagant with feather
plumes and ribbons displaying her wealth as much as the elegant gown and a fur-trimmed cloak pulled over her shoulders.

  The man next to her was attired in equally fashionable attire, reminding him of Thornton Quincy, Elise’s husband, one of the wealthiest men in the country. Elise and Thornton would be able to buy Sophie a hundred new hats, likely from the finest French milliners, not a simple hat from a general store in a small town in Illinois.

  Reinhold slapped at the reins, sending Daisy back into motion. He steeled his attention ahead and ignored the hat in the window display.

  He could pretend all he wanted that Sophie would always be there to greet him every time he came home from town with her breathtaking smile and beautiful blue eyes, but he couldn’t forget she was only in his life temporarily. And he couldn’t put off forever the telegram he needed to send to Elise and Marianne.

  As much as he wanted to delay and allow their situation to continue unchecked, he would only make things harder on all of them if he didn’t act soon.

  He patted his pocket again and this time was reminded of just how little the amount was, how big his debts were, and how he couldn’t possibly afford a hat for Sophie, even one as simple as the one at the general store. He couldn’t afford it now and probably wouldn’t be able to for a long time to come—if ever.

  He wanted to cling to the dream of a life with Sophie in it as his wife, yet he knew it was just that—a dream. At some point he had to let go. If only he wanted to.

  Chapter 18

  Sophie stood back from the shelves in the root cellar and observed them, letting satisfaction surge through her. Jars of beans, green tomato pickles, watermelon-rind pickles, beets, and more lined the shelves Reinhold had constructed. He’d labored late for several nights to craft the simple shelves so she had a place to store everything.

  All week, she’d worked to preserve the produce she’d picked from the garden, spending long afternoons in Euphemia’s kitchen, cooking and storing food in jars and crocks. Now the shelves overflowed with the colorful assortment of vegetables.

  With a final sigh of satisfaction at all she’d accomplished, Sophie gathered her skirt in one hand and ascended the ladder. As she climbed out of the underground cavern into the gray light of late afternoon, a gust of wind slapped at her, bringing with it a new chill she hadn’t felt before.

  She gathered her shawl closer and peered to the northwest at the dark clouds gathering on the horizon. When Reinhold had come up to the house at dawn for breakfast, he’d told her not to expect them back for supper, that they’d likely work late into the evening so they could finish harvesting the wheat this week and hopefully make another trip to the gristmill soon.

  She already had soup warming on the stove and some of Euphemia’s butterhorns ready to take out to him and Jakob for supper. Was it too early to go now?

  “Sophie!” a voice called from the direction of the house.

  She spun to see Fergus exit the kitchen, letting the door slap shut behind him. The boy ran toward her holding out an envelope. Except for Sundays to church, Fergus never wore shoes. But today he had on a scuffed pair of boots that had been patched and repatched, likely passed on from Alastair and Gavin, maybe even having once been Lyle’s. He was also wearing a coat buttoned up over his stout frame. His cap was pulled low, but his ears stuck out and were red from the cold.

  “Mum came back from town this afternoon with a telegram for Reinhold. She sent me over right away to deliver it.”

  Telegram? “Who’s it from?”

  “The Reverend Poole.”

  Sophie’s pulse bounded forward in great leaps. It had been almost two weeks since Reinhold had sent the telegram to Reverend Poole, informing him of the problem with Nicholas and Olivia living with the Ramseys.

  Two weeks too long. Two weeks of waiting. Two weeks of agony.

  Thankfully she’d seen the children at church on Sunday. Reinhold hadn’t wanted to go into town to the service, had claimed he needed to work. But when she’d said she would go without him, he’d relented and taken her. She hadn’t been able to speak with Nicholas and Olivia, but she smiled and waved at them as cheerfully as she could, even though she’d been crying inside at the sight of Olivia’s wan face and sunken eyes.

  She’d wept later that night when alone in her bed, and she’d begged Reinhold the next day to send another telegram. He told her he would if they still hadn’t heard from the reverend by the end of the week.

  That was five days ago.

  Fergus handed her the telegram.

  She tore at the seal.

  “It’s for Reinhold.” His brows slanted in accusation.

  She was too anxious to respond to the boy. Instead, she unfolded the paper and read the message: “Returning to Mayfield for follow-up visits soon. Will investigate situation then.”

  Sophie read the message several times, and each time her heart sank a little further. Soon was ambiguous. It could mean tomorrow or it could mean several weeks. And she couldn’t wait several more weeks to get Olivia and Nicholas away from the Ramseys.

  But what else could she do? If she tried to sneak into the Ramseys’ home again, Reverend Poole would label her a thief and deem her unstable and unfit to raise children. The best thing she could do was wait patiently. Surely when the reverend came and saw all she’d accomplished as Reinhold’s wife, he’d be impressed.

  With fresh resolve, she tucked the telegram into her pocket. She’d continue to be a good wife and prove she was capable, so that the reverend would have no reason to withhold the children from her.

  “Mum also told me to warn you that the killing frost is coming tonight. If you have anything left in the ground, you best get it dug up and stored away.”

  Another gust from the north blew against Sophie, cutting through her shawl and dress with a new urgency. When at the Duffs’ yesterday, Euphemia had believed they had another week, maybe two, before the killing frost. But with the ominous clouds rolling in and the nip in the air, she’d be wise to heed Euphemia’s warning.

  “Mum told me to stay and help,” Fergus said with a nod toward the vegetable garden.

  “Thank you, Fergus.” Reinhold was proud and didn’t like to accept charity, but Sophie wouldn’t turn down help, especially not now when she was still learning so much about being a farmer’s wife.

  For an hour or more, she worked with Fergus in the vegetable garden, digging up the rest of the root vegetables, putting them in crates, covering them with hay, and hauling them to the cellar.

  After Fergus left and as darkness drew nigh, she packed supper into a basket and began the long walk to the wheat field, only to find Reinhold and Jakob digging potatoes. Jakob dropped his shovel and ran to meet her. He devoured his supper as if he hadn’t eaten in several days. Reinhold, however, left off his work more reluctantly than usual, casting worried glances toward the sky.

  All the while as he ate, he had one eye on the northwest horizon and the piles of clouds drawing ever nearer.

  She rubbed her hands over her arms to ward off the cold. “Euphemia sent Fergus to warn me that the killing frost is coming.”

  “I could feel it in the air too,” he replied as he scraped the last spoonful from his plate. “We have to get the potatoes out of the ground and into the barn tonight.”

  “I’ll stay and help.”

  “No, Soph. You’re already doing enough. I won’t burden you with this kind of work too.”

  She set the basket down and began walking toward Jakob. “Teach me what to do, Jakob.” The boy looked between her and Reinhold with uncertainty. She’d quickly come to realize how much he respected, almost feared, Reinhold, and how he tried to keep everything even and calm around his brother.

  Although Jakob hadn’t questioned their sleeping arrangements or the nature of their marriage, she’d sensed his quizzical glances from time to time and knew their relationship puzzled him.

  “You can show me,” she assured Jakob. “If Reinhold doesn’t want me here, th
en he’ll have to carry me back, and I don’t think he’ll want to waste time doing that.”

  She cast Reinhold what she hoped was her most stubborn glare. Reinhold pressed his lips together and returned to the digging. Reluctantly, Jakob showed her how to find the potatoes among the dirt and roots Reinhold had overturned. In the growing darkness they worked by lantern light, searching for the dirt-encrusted potatoes more by touch than sight.

  Jakob worked almost as quickly as Reinhold dug. While she couldn’t find the potatoes as fast as Jakob, she caught on well enough that Jakob started digging up the withered tops of the potato plants along with Reinhold, stopping every few plants to help her locate the lumps in the hard soil.

  After only an hour of working, her arms ached, and her nose and cheeks stung from the cold. She was grateful she’d thought to pack her mittens, because even through the knitted material her fingers grew stiff.

  “Rain or sleet is coming soon,” Reinhold called.

  Jakob must have felt a change in the air too. “Should I go for the wagon?”

  “Yes, and take Sophie back with you.”

  “I’m staying until the work is done,” she replied, shoveling her hands deeper into the mound of dirt in front of her.

  She could feel Reinhold’s eyes upon her and sensed his frustration. The next time she glanced up, Jakob was gone and Reinhold was digging again, his coat straining at the seams against his shoulders and arms as he worked. Sophie could do no less. If Reinhold was willing to work tirelessly, if this farm and these crops were so important to him, then she wanted to do everything she could to help him succeed.

  She dug until she couldn’t feel her fingers. With the wind blowing harder, the lantern flames spluttered and the light flickered. When Jakob returned a short while later, driving the horse and wagon, he hopped down with a pile of grain sacks and began shoving the potatoes into the bags until they nearly overflowed. Then he would heft the bag into the back of the wagon and start to fill another bag.

  Sophie worked behind Reinhold for what seemed like hours, searching for the potatoes among the clods and piling them up for Jakob to gather.