Cheryl Reavis (7 page)

But he didn’t. Caroline stood up with the wood in her arms, growing more and more uncomfortable in the ensuing silence. She could imagine what Beata must have told him about her letting the children miss the noon meal, and she could sense how much he wanted her to make some kind of excuse. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction, not when he would believe every word Beata said just as he always had when Ann was alive.

“I want to know,” he said finally. “I want to know what Anna told you about me. She always talked to you. I want to know what she said.”

She looked in his direction now. The candle he’d lit flickered in the draft from the fireplace. She could just make out his face in the dimness.

“Nothing, Frederich.”

“Nothing? I am wrong then,” he said, taking a long drink from the bottle. “You are a lying Holt after all.”

“Frederich, Ann never said anything to me about you— nothing like what you mean—”

“And what do I
mean?”

“You want to know if she complained—criticized—”

He sat up suddenly. “You were her sister. You were her
friend.
She told me that once. I wanted her to visit with the women here—I thought she needed their help—someone to talk to—to explain. But she said she had
you.
And she told
you
nothing. Not in eight years. Not in all that time?”

“She…told me she was happy,” Caroline offered, because it was the truth. “Just before she died. I was worried about her—but she said I shouldn’t worry about her having another baby because she was so happy.”

He was standing now, moving closer. She was afraid suddenly, and she began to edge away. As she turned to get out of the room, he reached and grabbed her by the arm and pulled her around to face him. The top piece of wood fell heavily onto the floor. She was off-balance and nearly
leaning into him. She could smell his man-smell, leather and wood smoke, sweat and tobacco and plum brandy. She could feel the heat and the power of his body, the grip of his callused hand on her arm. It was all she could do to keep from shivering.

“Johann was right, Caroline Holt,” he said, his fingers hurting. “I cannot be kind to you.”

He abruptly let her go, and she staggered away from him. She backed out of his reach, still carrying the wood, all but running by the time she reached the stairs.

“What is this stick of wood doing here?” Beata asked, her shrill voice making his head pound worse. “Did you do this?” she demanded, turning on the children.

“I dropped it, Beata!” he said sharply. “Either leave it or throw it on the fire—but do
not
talk about it anymore!”

“And you don’t take your brandy headache out on me!" she said.

He made a gesture of impatience, but he didn’t say anything else. It hurt too much to talk. It hurt to breathe. He looked around as Caroline came downstairs.

“Good morning,” she said to the girls, making a concerted effort not to notice him. He didn’t blame her. He was ashamed of his behavior last night—not of what he had said to her—he barely remembered that—but of the way she’d cowered from him when he grabbed her by the arm. She had fully expected him to hurt her, and that expectation had insulted him in a way he would have been hard put to explain. He was not used to drinking and he’d taken too much plum brandy—but drunk or sober, he was
not
like her brother. He thought surely Caroline Holt should know that, but he didn’t tax his aching head with the specifics of
how.

“What will you and the children do today?” he asked, surprising himself and her.

She gave him a furtive glance before she answered, but she spoke to the plate in front of her. “I think it’s going to
rain,” she said. “We’ll work on mending their clothes. I see Beata has put out the basket for me—”

“Mary Louise is too young,” he interrupted.

“She can pick out buttons and find matching thread— and learn her colors. Lise can practice her multiplication tables while we sew. Then I thought we would read—and perhaps a music lesson if you don’t object.”

“Why would I object?” he asked, his pounding head notwithstanding.

She didn’t answer him, and Lise cast a worried look at Beata, who was tending something on the hearth.

Beata must have extended her dominion to include the piano, he decided. “I have no objection to music lessons for the girls. In time, perhaps they will play what they learn for me. You can teach Beata, too, while you’re at it.”

He had meant only to annoy her, but her horrified expression struck him as funny, and he laughed in spite of the pain in his head. “Is that not a good idea?” he asked Lise, smiling still.

“No,
Papa,” she assured him, making him laugh again. It felt wonderful to laugh with his children at the breakfast table.

“No,
Papa,” Mary Louise echoed.

“What are you saying?” Beata demanded from the hearth.

“I was saying Caroline could teach you to play the piano—what do
you
say, Caroline?” he asked over Beata’s sputtering.

“I would be simply…honored,” she said gravely, the corners of her mouth working hard not to smile, her eyes filled with mischief.

He waited until the end of Beata’s long tirade in German, then stood up to go outside. “Beata thanks you for your kindness,” he whispered to Caroline as he reached for his hat. “But she feels she really must decline.”

*   *   *

Caroline realized she was smiling to herself again. She made a concentrated effort to force the smile aside.

I don’t understand,
she thought yet another time. Last night, Frederich had made her afraid, and this morning he had actually been trying to tease her and Beata. A Frederich who teased was as disconcerting as the one who played the kindly father—except, in all fairness, she didn’t think he was playing at that.

Apparently, Beata had been disconcerted as well. She had immediately immersed herself in a frenzy of cooking, and she had been vexed all morning, taking it out on anything and everything that strayed into her path. Caroline had put Mary Louise to bed for her afternoon nap early to keep her out of Beata’s way.

Perhaps Frederich had intended for her and Beata to squabble, Caroline suddenly thought Perhaps it amused him to have them at each other, regardless of his fine speech about domestic tranquillity.

She shook her head and went back to the mending. “Three times five?” she said to Lise, only half listening to the reply. Her hands were busy. Her mind was busy. And still this morning’s episode with Frederich forced its way into her thoughts.

I
don’t understand.

She looked up at the sound of a wagon.

“Leah Steigermann,” Lise said, looking out the window. “Does that mean I can stop now?”

“For the time being,” Caroline said, careful to keep her empathy for the tediousness of multiplication tables masked. “Go and let Leah in, please.”

Caroline put the mending back into the basket and set Ann’s sewing tin on the small table where it belonged, running her fingertips lightly over the sunburst pattern. She stood up and smoothed her dress over her rounding belly, feeling acutely self-conscious and sinful again.

“I’m bringing the rain,” Leah called as she swept through the door. “And I’ve come early especially to see how you are.” She gave Lise a small hug before descending on Caroline.

“I’m quite well,” Caroline said, suffering her embrace. The gray poplin dress with the cream satin trim Leah wore was heavily spotted with raindrops and likely ruined, a fact that appeared to cause her no concern at all.

“Scoot now,” Leah said to Lise. “Run tell Beata I’m here—something smells wonderful. What
is
Beata cooking?”

“I don’t know,” Caroline said. “I’m not allowed to lift the lids.”

“No doubt,” Leah said, smiling. “She’s going to be very annoyed that I’ve come already. And where is the bridegroom?" she asked, making herself comfortable on the settle.

“I don’t know,” Caroline said truthfully.

“Ah, well, it’s you I’ve come to see. I
know
I’m early,” she said again, “but…” she added, leaning forward and trailing off dramatically. “I wanted to make sure you’d heard the news.”

“What news?” Caroline asked, a bit relieved to know that there might be some other news in the community, a tidbit of gossip that had nothing to do with her.

But her relief was short-lived.

“The news about Avery, of course. Has anyone told you?”

“Leah, what are you talking about?”

“Avery.
I usually avoid these tedious hospitality gatherings, but I had to come when I heard. I was sure Frederich wouldn’t say anything. You know how closemouthed he is. And Beata wouldn’t tell you—where is Beata, by the way?”

“Upstairs,” Caroline said, holding up her hands in bewilderment. “Leah, I don’t understand. I don’t know why you’re early—I don’t even know what you’re early
for.
And
I haven’t heard anything about Avery—is William all right?” it suddenly occurred to her to ask.

“William is fine. This has nothing to do with William. This is about Avery and Frederich—”

“Fof heaven’s sake, will you tell me?”

“Gladly,” Leah said. “Frederich has given Avery the original marriage settlement…” She gave another dramatic pause. “Frederich gave Avery the acre of land with the spring for you, Caroline.”

“He—”

“And then,
then,
“ Leah interrupted, “he knocked Avery down—several times, Papa said. For hurting you the way he did—and for some remark he made about you when you came to get your clothes. Now, I ask you. When has anyone ever bested Avery in a fight? You should see your brother, Caroline. His face looks worse than
yours.
And he’s going around telling people he ran into a door,” she added with a chirping laugh. “I love Avery dearly, but it’s so funny, Caroline!”

“Leah, you must be mistaken. Why would Frederich—?”

“Because you’re a Graeber now, of course. He has to uphold the honor of the Graeber family, no matter how much he might…well, you know what I mean.”

Yes,
Caroline thought. She knew exactly what Leah meant. It was perfectly obvious that Frederich found it nearly impossible to tolerate her presence here. He’d made no secret about that.

She abruptly sat down on the settle beside Leah, Frederich should never have given Avery the acre with the spring, not for her, not when she’d—

She looked around because Beata was coming down the stairs, Lise and Mary Louise both in tow. Beata had changed her dress and her hair had been parted in the middle and swept back in wings that might have been attractive on someone less sour.

“These children are not ready!” she said, thrusting the girls forward. “You sit and gossip and leave your work for
me.”

“Beata—”

“You see what I have to endure,” she said to Leah. “Laziness!”

“Do you suppose, Beata,” Caroline said with as much dignity as she could muster, “you could advise me as to
why
the children need to be ready?”

“Lazy and good for nothing!” Beata hissed at her.

Caroline stood up, her hands clenched at her sides. She had had enough of Beata’s riddles and always being in the wrong.

“It’s our turn, Caroline Holt,” Beata snapped. “And you know that! You deliberately try to embarrass us—with dirty children for everyone to see!”

“Well, we can fix that quickly enough,” Leah said, standing up as well. “I’ll help. I’ll do your hair,” she said to Lise, taking her by the hand. “Would you like that? Let’s go upstairs—no, you take Mary Louise and go on and I’ll bring some hot water. Beata will let us have a big kettleful, won’t you, Beata?”

Beata made a gesture of disgust and turned away.

“Something smells wonderful, Beata,” Leah continued, giving Caroline a wink behind Beata’s back. “I’m
so
glad I came. Mother and Father will be along soon. They asked that I give you their regards and say how much they are looking forward to your fine cooking…”

The back door opened, and Frederich came in. He looked around the room, his eyes falling immediately upon the girls, who still stood at the bottom of the stairs.

“Why aren’t they ready?” he asked Caroline.

His query provoked a sound of frustration and anger from her that he might have protested if he hadn’t been so taken aback. She pushed past him and ran up the stairs, leaving everyone in the room staring after her.

“Well, well,” Leah said to him, carefully holding a hot copper kettle away from her skirts. “Hello,
door.
“

It fell to Frederich to fetch Caroline. He had waited patiently for her to ready the children—which she did with Leah’s help—and now he was waiting for her to bring herself to the supper table. The guests were ready to be seated. Exasperated by Caroline Holt’s rudeness, he abruptly went upstairs.

He found her sitting in her room in front of the small fireplace and clearly startled that he would open her door without her leave.

“How far will you go to embarrass this family?” he asked without prelude.

She looked at him, but she didn’t respond.

“We are waiting the meal for you!”

“Why?” she asked, the icy control in her voice pushing him to the edge.

“Why! You ask
me
why? Why
are you
behaving this way? I expect this kind of tantrum from Beata. I would have hoped to see better from you. They taught you nothing at that fine school in town? You do everything you can to upset the evening? You knew it was our turn to extend the hospitality and you keep everybody waiting—”

“I didn’t know anything of the kind!”

“We talked about this at breakfast yesterday morning, Caroline Holt.”

“We didn’t—”

“Beata said plainly that tonight was the night for the hospitality supper!”

“In what language?” she cried, throwing up her hands.

He stared at her, then frowned.
What language?

“German,” he admitted finally.

“It…wasn’t my intention to embarrass you any more than I already have,” she said quietly. “I didn’t understand what was expected of me. I…still don’t.”

“You are to join the family for the hospitality supper,” he said. “You are to behave well and do nothing to cause more talk.”