by Erica Vetsch
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 world 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?”
“Almost.” Kate leaned back so she could take a deep breath. The baby was taking up so much room now, it felt as if she couldn’t get her lungs quite full of air most of the time.
“And tomorrow Daddy and Grossvater will be back?”
“Tomorrow or the next day.” Kate looked out the window at the fat, falling flakes. It had been snowing since before sunup, and already several inches blanketed the landscape. Oscar had been gone for six days, delivering the furniture orders he’d completed to Saint Paul.
And Martin had gone with him, driving another wagon full of several hundred pounds of cheese. Most of her summer’s efforts. With so much inventory still to sell, the men had thought it best for Martin to drive his own wagon, accompanying Oscar all the way to the big city. He’d packed the cheeses in straw and burlap to keep them from freezing or being jostled too much.
Oscar had refused to allow Kate to help him carry the cheeses up the stairs to load the wagon, so she’d remained in the cellar directing him as to what should go and what wasn’t ready yet.
“You might as well take everything you can, to make the trip worthwhile. No sense leaving any of it behind,” he’d said.
His words had pressed deep on her heart. In the end, the cellar had been almost empty.
She’d stood in the center of all the shelves, close to tears. This would be the last time. Next summer, she would be in Cincinnati and, most likely, Mr. Siddons would own the farm. Would he raze the cheese house the same way he planned to tear down the barn? If she came back in five years, would she even recognize the place they had worked so hard to build?
She wished she could talk to someone about it, but there wasn’t anyone. Not wanting to burden Inge and Martin with her disquieted thoughts, she had kept them to herself. And Oscar...it felt as if he had taken a step away from the Amakers ever since Victor Amaker’s letter had arrived. He worked hard outside, preparing things for winter. Every day he hauled at least one load of hay from the Amaker barn, stacking it in his barnyard to feed the small herd of Brown Swiss he’d brought over to his farm to make choring easier. Every night, he retreated to his wood shop to work on furniture pieces. And he and Martin had been gone for a week now.
Kate felt as if she hardly saw him anymore.
“Are we going to sew, Miss Kate?” Liesl tugged on her sleeve.
Pulled from her thoughts, Kate smiled at the little girl. Liesl was an excellent tonic against the megrims. “We sure are. Come stand on the table, sweetling. Once I get this hem pinned up and sewn, we’ll be just about done with your new dresses.” The table was strewn with fabric, pins and scissors on one end, and bowls and flour and spoons on the other. Grossmutter was making Zopf, the special bread she loved. It was usually reserved for Sundays, but with Martin expected home soon, she was making it as a treat for him. While she kneaded the dough, she muttered under her breath.
Kate smiled. Grossmutter always recited Scripture and prayed while she worked bread dough. It was a good time to talk to the Lord, she always said.
Liesl let Kate remove her shoes and dress and climb up on the table. Arms out, she held still while Kate dropped the new dress over her head and buttoned it up the back. It hung in folds on her little frame. Kate had made this one extra big, allowing room for Liesl to grow into it.
Not that
Kate would be there to see it. The thought made her heart hurt. As much as Oscar had feared that Liesl would grow too attached to the Amakers before they moved out, Kate knew it would hurt her just as much to leave the little girl who had grown so dear.
Estimating how tall Liesl might be in a year or two wasn’t easy. But Kate would put an extra-deep hem in, so that it could be let out when needed. Maybe Mrs. Tipford or Mrs. Frankel would make the alterations in a couple of years.
“You look like a little brown robin,” she said. The chocolate-colored wool brought out the deep brown of Liesl’s eyes, and the red trim at the cuffs and collar were bright splashes of color.
“Daddy says I look like a princess.”
“That’s true, but you know that it’s what you do that makes you pretty, not your face or your clothes?” Kate spoke around the pins clamped between her teeth.
“Daddy says that, too.”
“Your daddy is a smart man.”
And kind, and gentle, and strong, and steady.
Kate had been thinking about him way too much, especially the last several days, since he’d left for the Twin Cities.
Placing the final pin in the hem, Kate walked around the table, checking for evenness. “That should do it. Hold still while I get it off you. I don’t want you to get any pinpricks.” She eased the dress over Liesl’s head, holding the hem wide. “There. I’ll work on that tonight.”
Liesl sat on the table and scooted to the edge, hopping off in her bare feet and scampering over to get back into her clothes. “Now will you make baby gowns?” She had been an avid observer of Kate’s progress with the flannel.
“Maybe later. Let’s get the sewing cleaned up and help Grossmutter with the baking, all right?”
The wind buffeted the house, sending a swirl of snowflakes against the windowpane. But the kitchen was toasty, the house snug.
When the bread was rising in the warming pan near the oven, Kate drew Liesl to her side at the flour-dusted table. “Would you like to play a little game with me?”
