Cheryl Reavis Page 3

  Caroline looked at the custard, then began to eat. It was quite delicious.

  “You must eat all of it,” Leah said. She knelt in front of the fireplace to add another cedar log to the fire. The smell of burning cedar filled the room and a shower of sparks flew out onto the hearth and up the chimney. “I have promised my father.”

  “Promised him what?” Caroline asked. She kept glancing at Leah’s profile as she deftly managed the log with the heavy iron poker. Leah was very beautiful, and spoiled, and pampered, and Caroline would never have guessed that she would attempt such a mundane task as stoking a fire.

  “I promised him that I’d get you to eat something so you will have strength,” she said, still poking at the log. She looked at Caroline. “He’s coming to talk to you.”

  About what? Caroline nearly asked, but the question was ridiculous. There would be but one topic of conversation for John Steigermann or anyone else—her illicit pregnancy. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to think about how stupid she had been.

  Oh, Kader.

  She had loved Kader Gerhardt for a long time. She had loved him enough to tell him so—afterward. And she had seen the veiled look that came into his eyes. She realized immediately that her love was of no importance to him. He had wanted her body, not her devotion. She kept telling herself that she hadn’t meant for anything to happen between them that day. She hadn’t gone looking for him. She’d only meant to return a book he’d loaned her—Dying Testimonies of the Saved and Unsaved. She was going to leave it on his desk, but he was working in the schoolroom. She had stood by the door for a moment watching him, surrounded by the smell of leather-bound books and India ink and wood smoke from the back draft in the small fireplace. And she had loved finding him so completely unaware.

  He looked up sharply when he realized he wasn’t alone. “You shouldn’t be here, Caroline,” he said immediately. “What if someone saw you? How would it look?”

  “I—I only meant to return this,” she said, flustered because he was here and because he was as cross with her as if she’d been one of his recalcitrant pupils.

  He stood up from the desk and came closer. She waited, waited for his nearness so that she could savor his clean masculine smell. Kader Gerhardt didn’t stink of sweat and horses and manure. Kader Gerhardt was a gentleman.

  “You cause me a great deal of difficulty,” he said, taking the book out of her hand.

  “I’m very sorry to disturb you,” she said, still distressed that her unannounced presence had offended him so.

  “Does…Avery know you’re here?”

  “Avery? No. Avery’s in town buying seed.”

  He had smiled then, and he’d been so kind. And how she had craved his kindness. She had been so grateful for it that she took the full responsibility for his passion. The thing that had happened between them was her fault. She had come upstairs to the schoolroom alone. She had let him kiss her. She had let him take her. She had let herself be completely overcome by her need for him, and she had lost herself in the touches and kisses and the rush to free her from the layers of wool and muslin that kept them apart.

  And then it was abruptly over, and he’d left her lying alone, oblivious to the fact that she was shaken and still needing him so badly. She had tried to cover herself. She could hear children running and playing in the churchyard below.

  “It’s nothing,” Kader said, intent now on righting his own clothes. “Just the boys playing war. They won’t come up here.”

  And then he explained to her how this had all come about.

  “You made it impossible for me, Caroline,” he said sadly, as if she had deliberately set out to ruin him. “I couldn’t help myself.”

  “I…love you, Kader,” she said, and it was a long time before he answered.

  “We will have to be strong, Caroline,” he said finally, not looking at her. “We must behave properly—for your sake.”

  His idea of propriety had been to rush her from the schoolroom as quickly as possible before someone saw her there. And to make certain that she had no notion of mentioning anything to Avery. She had been devastated by his coldness. She had given him everything, and he’d only wanted her to get out.

  And someone had seen her there. Eli Graeber, Frederich’s nephew, who thankfully didn’t speak enough English to understand. Since that day Kader had all but forgotten she existed. There had been no more offers to loan her books, or newspapers with the latest war news. No requests for her help with the younger children in his class. No attempts to engage her in conversation behind Avery’s back at Sunday church services. No wishes for her good health sent via William. She wondered if he knew how dire her need for good health was now.

  She realized suddenly that Leah had said something that required her comment. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I said I could loan you something of mine to wear.”

  “The dress I have is fine, Leah. I…don’t much care how I look.”

  “Then I will go to your house and get some of your own things,” Leah decided.

  “No. Please—”

  “I will go, Caroline,” she insisted. “Avery won’t say no to me.”

  No, Caroline thought unkindly. And vice versa.

  “Eat,” Leah chided. “Please eat some more.”

  Caroline shook her head. She was feeling light-headed and queasy again. “I’ve had enough, I think. Please tell your mother it’s—How much I—”

  “There,” Leah said brightly, as if Caroline hadn’t been about to cry again. “The fire’s going. I’ll go tell my father to come up. Are you all right, Caroline? You are so pale.”

  Caroline managed a painful smile, but she didn’t reply.

  Why are you doing this? she wanted to ask. Avery certainly isn’t going to love you for it.

  But she said nothing. She stared into the fire instead, feeling the heat on her battered face, and she braced herself for yet another ordeal. Leah left the door ajar, and after a moment Caroline could hear her downstairs, then John Steigermann’s heavy treading up the steps to the second floor.

  “Please, come in,” she said when he was about to knock on the door. She saw immediately that his wife stood behind him. Mrs. Steigermann was such a frail-looking woman, her fragility exaggerated by her husband’s great size.

  John Steigermann motioned for his wife to precede him, and he gave her the only other chair in the room. He remained standing, towering over them both. He stared openly at the bruises on Caroline’s face. It was all she could do not to turn away.

  She forced herself to say what needed to be said. “I want to thank you—” she began, but he held up his hand.

  “What I have done, anyone would do,” he said, but they both knew that was far from the truth. Anyone might have intervened if a man were beating his horse, but not his unwed and pregnant sister.

  “There is something you need to know. Frederich is going to withdraw his pledge of marriage to you,” Steigermann said bluntly.

  Caroline looked at him, not knowing what her response should be.

  “There is no marriage pledge,” she said after a moment.

  “Avery gave his word on your behalf,” he said. “The agreement will be set aside in the church Sunday, Caroline. You will have to be there.”

  “I?” she said in alarm. “I had nothing to do with Avery’s agreement.”

  “Frederich is the injured party, Caroline. And he…says he doesn’t want you. He says the baby you carry isn’t his. I know you have never said that is so,” Steigermann said when she would have interrupted. “But if the baby is his, you can say so before God in the church. You can hold him to the pledge.”

  “No. I don’t want to marry Frederich. I never wanted to marry Frederich.” Her face hurt to talk. She bit down on her lower lip to stop her mouth from trembling.

  “You have to be there, Caroline.”

  “Why? I didn’t have anything to do with this. I didn’t even know there was a marriage planned
until—until Avery—” She broke off to keep from sobbing out loud.

  “There are people who believe that you and Avery were going to fool Frederich—”

  “The marriage was Frederich’s idea,” Caroline said, incredulous that she had been reduced to repeating anything Avery said as the truth. “I didn’t know about it—”

  “You must go to the church. It is the only thing you can do for the reputation of your family. Not for Avery, but for Ann’s daughters and for your little brother, William. You must say that the withdrawal of the marriage pledge is acceptable to you, that Frederich has done nothing dishonorable.”

  “I can’t,” she said.

  “You can,” he answered. “God judges us, Caroline. No one else has the right. I believe this. My wife believes this,” he said, gesturing in her direction. “But there are the others, you see. Those are the people you must face in the church. You must show them that you will stand with your head up, and you will let only God decide if you have sinned. You must do this for the sake of the baby and the rest of your family. And you must not leave Frederich to take the blame for what has happened to you.”

  She realized that he was looking at her bruised face again, and this time she turned her head away.

  “I believe that Avery Holt has more to answer for than you, Caroline,” he said gently. “But you are the one who must go to the church. Frederich is a proud man and he must save his honor. You must give it back to him. You must say before God that you release him from the pledge.”

  “I never made any pledge!”

  “Avery did. It is the same.”

  “It isn’t!”

  “There is the baby, Caroline,” he reminded her. “For the rest of your life you and the child will suffer the talk. It will be worse for you both if you—”

  “I don’t want to do this,” she said, crying openly now.

  “It’s what Frederich wants, Caroline. It’s his right to have everyone know he has done nothing wrong. What will you do? Will you run from here? Will you leave William and Lise and the little one—Mary Louise—to face what you have done?”

  Mrs. Steigermann said something to her husband in German. He hesitated, then translated the question.

  “My wife asks…if the father of the child is…away from here. If he is a soldier, perhaps I can send word for you—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “I have nothing to say to him. Nothing.”

  She hadn’t gone to Kader about her pregnancy—and wouldn’t. When she first knew that there would be a baby, she had comforted herself with fantasies of telling him. Sometimes she’d find him in the schoolroom again, only he’d be glad to see her and he’d stay glad even after she’d told him she carried his child. He’d sweep her into his arms and beg her forgiveness. He’d want them to marry immediately—

  But she had no hopes of a happy ending. She had seen her parents’ loveless marriage. And Ann’s. And she knew the truth of her own situation. Kader Gerhardt didn’t care about her, and to his credit, he had never claimed that he loved her. In a moment of boredom, she had been nothing but a temporary diversion. What would he give her now if she asked? Money perhaps, but never marriage. He would deny everything, and if people did think that she and Avery had tried to trick Frederich into marrying her, who would believe her version of the truth? Her child would still be a bastard and her begging for Kader’s help would only compound her stupidity and her shame.

  She forced herself to look into John Steigermann’s eyes. She saw nothing but concern there. He was a good man, a kind man—but how could he expect that she face the entire congregation?

  “You know I have spoken the truth, Caroline. You know what you have to do. You will not be alone. My wife and I will stand with you.”

  She abruptly bowed her head. She didn’t care about Frederich Graeber’s honor, but she did care about William and her nieces. And she cared about the child she carried. Perhaps she even cared about the German schoolmaster who had given it to her.

  “You need time alone now, Caroline. We will leave you. You know what needs to be done,” he said when he reached the door. “My advice is that you ask God to help you and give you strength.”

  She sat there, her mind in turmoil, hardly aware that the Steigermanns had gone.

  Would Kader be there? she thought. Would he sit and watch her humiliation in silence?

  Yes, she thought sadly. He would. Because they must behave properly—for her sake.

  Chapter Three

  Caroline had to wear her same worn-out yellow-flowered dress on Sunday morning after all. Avery might have obliged Leah by giving her one of Caroline’s better dresses, but there was a limit to John Steigermann’s free hand. He would not allow Leah to go see Avery Holt, not even for the sake of Caroline’s pitiful wardrobe. He had seen firsthand Avery’s loss of control, and he refused to permit his beloved only daughter to have anything further to do with such a violent man.

  The upstairs smelled of the morning breakfast—fried ham and potatoes and cabbage and freshly baked black German bread. The smell of the food and the Schmalz, a greasy, apple and herb-flavored pork fat the Steigermanns spread on the bread, had been more than Caroline could manage. She had abruptly retreated to her small room, and she sat down to wait by the fire until John Steigermann came upstairs to tell her it was time to go to the church. If he was surprised that she would do as he asked and let Frederich officially withdraw his marriage pledge, it didn’t show. But then there was no reason for him to be surprised. His fine expectations and her obligation to him made it impossible for her not to go. It was his suggestion that they arrive ahead of the rest of the congregation. She saw the wisdom of the plan immediately. The last thing she wanted was to have to enter the church after everyone else was already seated.

  The day was cold and windy. Her face looked a little better, perhaps not so swollen, but she was grateful for the loan of one of Leah’s bonnets so that she could hide from the wind and from the curious stares she was bound to encounter.

  She let John Steigermann take her by the arm to escort her to the wagon waiting by the back door. She felt dead inside, not afraid so much as empty. Leah was waiting for her in the downstairs hallway, resplendent in her fine brown and coral merino wool dress and her fur-trimmed cape. Caroline kept glancing at her, acutely feeling her own shabbiness both inside and out. She wondered if Avery would have abandoned Leah if their liaison in the barn had led to a baby.

  No, she thought. Leah would have brought much more to a marriage than an illegitimate child. She would have brought money and prestige and land. And the rest of the men would have given Avery a pat on the back for being clever enough to get around John Steigermann.

  It was a long, cold ride down the river ferry road to the German church. The church was a square, two-story edifice of natural stone built by the German settlers who had come here from Pennsylvania in the last century. It was a fitting monument to their faith and their perseverance. She tried hard not to let it remind her of the German schoolmaster.

  In spite of their clever plan, Caroline and the Steigermanns were not the first to arrive. Avery stood in the sun on the front steps. He was dressed in what passed for his Sunday finery, a severe black broadcloth coat that always needed a vigorous brushing. Caroline didn’t see William anywhere, and she guessed that Avery would have made him stay at home. She prayed that he had. The Holts had been shamed enough without William having to witness the proceedings today.

  Avery was obviously waiting for her, and there was no way for her to get inside the church without going past him. She got down out of the wagon with difficulty and walked a few steps away from the Steigermanns. The graveyard that surrounded the church was quiet except for the wind in the trees and the rattle of leaves blown against the low stone wall. Her mother and father were buried here. And Ann and her lost babies. For a brief moment, she thought about crossing the wall to stand at their graves, but she knew already that she would find no comfort among their cold heads
tones. There was no comfort anywhere.

  The Reverend Johann Rial’s house was within sight of the church. She could see the glint of the sun on the tin roof and smell the wood smoke from the chimneys. And Avery was coming toward her. She had to force herself not to turn and run. She was afraid of him, but whatever he had to say now, she preferred to hear it alone. The Steigermanns had been privy to enough of the Holt scandal.

  More buggies and wagons were arriving, and Leah came to take her arm. Caroline had to force herself not to look for Kader Gerhardt among the men who were beginning to congregate on the front steps where Avery had been. Would she think less of Kader if he came—or if he didn’t?

  Avery was close now.

  “My father won’t let him hurt you,” Leah said quietly, and Caroline drew a long breath.

  “Please, Leah. Step away so I can talk to my brother alone.”

  “Caroline, he is angry still—”

  “Please,” she whispered, and Leah reluctantly went to stand with her father.

  Whatever Avery does, don’t let me cry, Caroline prayed.

  “You deserved what you got,” Avery said when he was close enough, not caring if the Steigermanns heard him.

  “Yes,” she answered quietly. “The way Leah will if you aren’t careful.”

  His cheeks flushed and he reached out to grab her by the arm. She drew back instinctively, expecting to be hurt again.

  “What did you tell old man Steigermann about me?" Avery said.

  “I didn’t have to tell him anything. He saw what kind of man you are.”

  “Damn you, Caroline! You’ve ruined everything—”

  “Come, Caroline,” John Steigermann said behind her. “We go inside now. Your brother will not want to keep you out here in the cold.” He offered her his arm, and she took it gratefully. She gave Avery one last look as she walked past him. The question was still in his eyes.

  Who, Caroline? Who?

  “I have seen by the fine attendance this morning that you are all aware of what is about to take place today,” Johann Rial said from the high pulpit. He spoke in English now— for Caroline’s benefit, no doubt—and his eyes swept over the congregation, coming to rest on her. She felt physically ill, and she took a wavering breath. Leah reached for her hand.