Cheryl Reavis Page 2

  “What do you get out of this, Avery?” she asked, picking up the rhythm of the churning again, holding on to it for dear life. Perhaps there had been a reason for Frederich’s woodchopping on the day that Ann died after all, she thought. Work could be an anchor, a place to hide, a way to not think.

  Ah, but to do that, Frederich would have had to be a man capable of feeling in the first place, and she knew better than that.

  “I’m the head of the family,” Avery said. “It’s my duty to see you married.”

  “What do you get out of this, Avery?” she asked again.

  “Nothing I don’t already have,” he answered obscurely.

  “Does William know what you’ve done?”

  “I haven’t done anything, Caroline, that isn’t for your own good—and yes, our little brother knows. He was there when Frederich asked for you.”

  She abruptly stopped churning; Avery looked up from the pie he was eating and smiled.

  “You see?” he said with his mouth full. “You thought it was all my doing. It wasn’t, Caroline. The marriage is Frederich’s idea, not mine. To tell you the truth, it never even occurred to me.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Then ask William.”

  “Beata Graeber won’t stand for her brother marrying another Holt, Avery. She despised Ann.”

  “Since when do you think a man makes his plans according to the whims of some old maid relative?”

  “Frederich never went against anything Beata said for Ann’s sake. Never. Ann had to live in his house like some kind of poor relation.”

  “Frederich asked for you. I said yes. So there you are. You’re past your prime, Caroline,” he said again. “If he wants you, you should be grateful—God knows, I am.”

  “I won’t marry my dead sister’s husband—”

  “Let’s see if I’ve got this right, Caroline. First you ‘can’t.’ Now you ‘won’t.’ You’re the one who said it—Ann is dead. And, by God, you will marry him. He’s got no heir and he’s not likely to get one out of you.”

  She understood then. If Frederich had no sons, then who would be his closest male heir after Eli? Frederich might leave a portion of his land to his inept, non-farmer nephew, but he wouldn’t leave the rest of it in the care of his daughters—no man here did if there was any other alternative. His daughters’ uncles might be another matter. Avery would be right there waiting, and if not him, then William—which would be the same thing. William was too timid to go against whatever Avery wanted, even if it were to take over an inherited Graeber farm.

  But she didn’t understand Frederich. He was rich enough to send to Germany for a bride if none of the women here appealed to him. The German men and his sister Beata would have surely pointed out how foolish he was being. The young Holt couldn’t breed—nothing but females and dropped litters. And the old one? Why do you want a thirty-year-old wife when you’ve got no sons? they’d ask him.

  Why?

  She had no accord with Frederich Graeber. She had hardly spoken a dozen words to him in all the time he and Ann had been married. He’d never made her feel welcome at the Graeber house, never seemed to notice Beata’s rudeness to her and Ann both. It couldn’t be because she was aunt to Mary Louise and Lise, she thought. Frederich Graeber didn’t care in the least for his female children. Or if he did, not enough to marry a woman “past her prime.”

  Except that she wasn’t past her prime, and before long everyone would know it. She had had no monthly bleeding since November; a horrible and unpredictable nausea had taken its place. She couldn’t control it, and she’d been frantic that Avery would notice. Clearly, he hadn’t.

  Oh, God, she thought. What am I going to do?

  The back door abruptly opened—her younger brother William bringing the cold March wind in with him. She saw immediately that Avery had been telling the truth about him at least. William knew all about her proposed marriage, because he studiously avoided her eyes. He, too, went to the pie safe in a quest for food.

  “Is Eli still out there?” Avery asked him.

  “He went home,” William said, looking again at the bare shelf in the pie safe as if he expected something to just magically appear. He was big for his age, taller than Avery, and he was always hungry.

  “You got the horses settled?”

  “Eli did it—”

  “Damn it, boy, you get back out there and make sure those animals are put up right. Eli doesn’t know a damn thing about horses—”

  “He does, too,” William interrupted in a rare contradiction of one of Avery’s pronouncements. “It’s farming he don’t know nothing about. He can take care of a horse good.” He glanced at Caroline, but he wouldn’t hold her gaze. He stood awkwardly for a moment. “I…reckon Frederich’s got in the habit of marrying Holt women,” he offered, still avoiding her eyes.

  Why am I arguing with Avery about this? she thought.

  It was only out of her habit that she sought to defy him. She had no choice about whether a marriage to Frederich Graeber took place, and neither did Avery. It was too late for a deception, even if she’d wanted one, too late for anything but the relentless unraveling of the truth. She was nearly four months pregnant, and no matter how badly she wanted it the secret could not be kept much longer.

  “—he don’t think much of Kader Gerhardt,” William was saying.

  “What?” she said, startled by the German schoolmaster’s name. Kader Gerhardt was the one man here she had truly respected. He was refined and educated, and she had thought him to be honorable as well. She had earnestly believed that he was somehow different from the rest of the men here. And she had loved him. She had even dared to think that her feelings might be returned, and she had never once perceived what he was really about—when she of all people should have. How could she have Avery for a brother and not have known?

  My fault, she thought again. Mine.

  There was something in her, something she had said or done that had made him think she wanted—

  “—the nieces,” William said for the second time over his shoulder. And he was still looking for something to eat. He made do with a cold biscuit he found in a pan on the kitchen table. “Maybe Frederich wants you so you can teach them. You got enough schooling to do it as good as Kader Gerhardt. Frederich don’t think much of Kader. I heard him tell John Steigermann Kader Gerhardt wasn’t fit to teach German children.”

  “William, you haven’t heard a damn thing,” Avery said. “Since when can you talk German?”

  “I can’t talk it—but I know what I hear sometimes. You got to if you’re going to live around here, Avery. You should know that.”

  “You watch that mouth, boy,” Avery said, choosing to take offense.

  “None of this matters!” Caroline suddenly cried. This inane discussion had gone on long enough. There was nothing to be done now except to stop the marriage. “I won’t marry Frederich Graeber, and you can tell him, Avery, or I will.”

  “It’s done, Caroline! Weren’t you listening? There’s no backing out now!”

  She stepped away from the churn and moved to the pegs by the back door, taking down her wool shawl and flinging it over her shoulders.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “You know where I’m going, Avery!”

  “Do you think you can just trot yourself over to the Graebers and tell Frederich the wedding is off?” he said incredulously.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, the hell you are. What reason are you going to give him? You’re not stupid enough to think you can find somebody with more money and more land than he’s got, I hope? I don’t see anybody else standing in line for the privilege of marrying you, Caroline!”

  She sidestepped him, but he blocked the doorway, grabbing her when she tried to get through. His fingers dug into her shoulders; his eyes held hers. She knew the exact moment he realized that there had to be some reason for her determination. Given his own history, his mind did no
t have to make a great leap to decide what that reason might be.

  “What have you been doing?” he said, giving her a shake. “Who have you been sneaking around with?” He roughly turned her around and put his hands on her belly. “By God, you’re already carrying, aren’t you? Aren’t you! Whose is it!”

  “What?” she said, because everything was moving too fast and she was terribly afraid now.

  He slapped her hard.

  “You’re not paying attention, little sister. It’s not what. It’s who. Whose is it!”

  “Avery, don’t!” William cried, bouncing from one foot to the other, but not daring to intervene. “Avery!”

  “You stay out of this, William!”

  “Don’t, Avery—what are you hurting her for?”

  “Did you hear that, Caroline?” Avery said, grabbing her by the arm and jerking her around to face him. When she tried to get away, her shawl came off in his hand. He slung it aside and grabbed her arm again, squeezing hard. “William wants to know what I’m hurting you for? Tell him!”

  “Avery, please!” she cried, because he was hurting her.

  “Avery, please? Who else have you been saying please to?”

  “I won’t tell you,” she said, forcing herself to stay on her feet, trying not to cry. She had thought herself prepared for the day Avery would know about her condition, but she wasn’t prepared for the look in his eyes now or for his bellow of rage.

  He hit her with his fist, and he would have hit her again if William hadn’t grabbed his arm. William tried vainly to hang on, but Avery yanked free of his grasp. He shoved her hard, and she fell backward. She tried to roll away from him, but Avery came after her in spite of all William could do. She could hear someone gasping, and she realized that the sound must be coming from her. She stayed in a tight ball on the floor, covering her head with her hands, trying to ward off the blows, knowing Avery wouldn’t stop.

  But he was jerked away from her suddenly, his feet coming up off the floor.

  “Mein Gott! You kill the girl!” someone cried.

  William knelt beside her, weeping loudly. “Caroline. Caroline!”

  Don’t cry, William.

  She wanted to say it, but no words came. He kept trying to make her sit up, as if he thought that her being upright would somehow negate everything that had gone on before. She tried hard to do what he wanted—he was crying so—but she sagged against him, her fingers digging into his shirt to keep herself from falling. Her hands shook. Her whole body shook.

  Another pair of hands reached for her, and she cowered away from them, expecting to be hit again.

  “Nein, Fraulein,” John Steigermann said gently, wrapping her shawl around her. “Kommen Sie—come with me. Es ist Zeit.”

  It’s time? she thought, recognizing the German phrase. For what, John Steigermann?

  “Avery…” she whispered, trying to see where he’d gone.

  “You don’t worry about your brother. He don’t bother you now. Come.” He was a big man and he lifted her easily in spite of her protest, carrying her across the kitchen toward the back door.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she heard Avery say.

  “She goes to my house, Avery Holt,” John Steigermann said. “Leah and Frau Steigermann will take care of her. You keep yourself and your bad temper here until I send for you.”

  “This is none of your damn business!”

  “I am a Christian man, Avery Holt. It is my business.”

  They were outside in the cold wind, and she hid her face against John Steigermann’s coat, the movement causing her to cry out in pain. He lifted her carefully into the buggy. She closed her eyes tightly as the horse lunged forward, and she let herself be held fast in one of John Steigermann’s big arms.

  Chapter Two

  She was given a hot broth to drink and put to bed in a small upstairs room in the Steigermann house. The bed had been warmed, but she still trembled, and she couldn’t stop crying. She had had to have help to undress. Thankfully, it was provided by John Steigermann’s quiet wife rather than his daughter, Leah. She couldn’t bear the look she saw in Leah’s eyes, the profound relief that it was Caroline Holt who had been caught and not Leah Steigermann. Caroline wanted only to be left alone—or to die—but she knew from the whispering that went on around her that neither was likely. Arrangements concerning her were still being made without her knowledge or consent. She had no doubt that John Steigermann was a good man. He had saved her from Avery—but now what was he to do with her?

  She slept finally, and she awoke to find that she had completely lost track of time. A cedar wood fire burned low on the hearth. It was daylight, and she seemed to remember being offered things to eat and drink a number of times. The sun had been shining then, too. Was it still the same day? She didn’t know.

  She made it to the chamber pot and back with difficulty because the nightgown Leah had provided for her was much too long and because every muscle in her body hurt. She climbed painfully back into the narrow bed and closed her eyes. She was far too miserable to take stock of her surroundings, and yet she was surprised to note that she was actually hungry. Even so, she feigned sleep when she heard the door creak open. It was all she could do not to weep. Why were these people being so kind to her? She didn’t deserve anyone’s kindness. She couldn’t stay here—and she had absolutely no place to go.

  Someone sniffed loudly, and she opened her eyes. William stood at the foot of the bed.

  “Caroline?” he said, his voice tremulous and worried. He had his old felt hat crumpled in his hands, and he was as ill at ease as if he were about to call on a total stranger.

  She motioned for him to come closer. Her eyes were badly swollen. She turned her head carefully on the pillow so she could see him out of the slit of vision that remained. She realized how bad she must look by his sharp intake of breath. She could see him better now; tears ran down both his cheeks.

  “Don’t,” she said, reaching for his hand. His hand was chapped and tough from working outdoors, and cold from his walk to the Steigermanns’. “Don’t cry.”

  He gave a halfhearted shrug and tried to do as she asked. “Are you all right, Caroline?” he asked after a moment.

  “I’m all right—except that I’m not sure how long I’ve been here.”

  “It’s almost two days—Caroline, I should have done something. Look at you,” he said, tears rolling down his face again. “I should have stopped him—”

  “William, don’t. Come sit here.” She patted the bed beside her.

  He did as she asked, sitting down heavily because he was a big, awkward boy. He jarred her painfully and she tried not to wince.

  “It ain’t right, Caroline,” he said, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. “How can this be right? I ain’t staying in that house with Avery anymore. I’m strong and I know farming. Somebody around here will hire me—maybe I’ll go to the army. I could fight the Yankees, I reckon. I can shoot a gun—”

  “No!” Caroline said sharply. “William, please. Don’t make this any worse for me. I can’t worry about you, too. You stay with Avery and you do what he says.”

  “Caroline—”

  “Do it, William. Because I ask you to, if nothing else. Does Avery know you’re here?”

  “I’m supposed to be plowing.”

  “William—”

  “I couldn’t stand not knowing anything, Caroline! I had to come over here.”

  “I’m…glad you did, but you’d better get the plowing done now. You don’t want Avery to find you gone.”

  “I hate that house with you not there, Caroline,” he said, his misery showing plainly on his face. “What’s going to happen to you?”

  “I…don’t know, William. I think Mother had some relatives in Virginia. Maybe I could write to one of them. Maybe they’d let me stay there until” Her voice trailed away. Until what? She hadn’t dared think that far ahead. “Go on home now. Go on. I promise I won’t do any
thing or go anywhere without letting you know.”

  He stood up because she pushed him, but he didn’t leave.

  “Caroline—”

  “I’m sorry, William,” she said. “I…didn’t mean to be so bad.”

  “You ain’t bad, Caroline! You ain’t the first woman this happened to. Don’t you go saying you’re bad! And nobody else better not say it, either!”

  He abruptly bent down to her, giving her an awkward hug, the way he used to when he was a small child. “I’m going to take care of you, Caroline. Don’t you worry about that.” He stood for a moment longer, then abruptly went out the door, bumping into something in the hall on his way downstairs.

  “Little brother,” she whispered, trying not to cry. She gave a wavering sigh. She had never felt so bereft in her life. William’s love was unconditional and far more than she deserved.

  She struggled to sit up on the side of the bed. She had lain in the dark like a wounded animal long enough. She had to get dressed. She had to think. She had to make some kind of plan. For the first time, she made a deliberate inspection of her face, hobbling to the washstand mirror so she could see everything Avery had done. She hardly recognized herself. It was no wonder William had been so startled. She tried braiding her hair, but it quickly became too much of an effort. She hunted until she found the frayed calico work dress she’d arrived in and her underclothes, and she put them on. Then she tilted the mirror on the washstand downward and turned sideways to look at herself. Avery had been right. She was beginning to show.

  Poor baby—

  “Caroline,” Leah Steigermann said behind her, making her jump. She smoothed the front of her dress and turned to face her.

  “You are better today, yes?” Leah asked kindly, but her eyes went to Caroline’s belly.

  “Yes,” Caroline answered. “Better.” She could feel her eyes welling with tears again, and she looked abruptly away.

  “I’ve brought you something to eat—some of my mother’s egg custard. You’ll like it, I think. Come sit here.” She pulled a chair closer to the fireplace with her free hand, handing Caroline the custard cup, a starched napkin and a spoon when she sat down. “Go on,” she coaxed. “It’s what you need now.”