Tomorrow's Garden (35 page)

Isabelle nodded. “They’re one of God’s gifts to us.”

“As are your babies.”

Placing her hand on her abdomen, Isabelle smiled. “The twins are kicking. I think that means they’re saying amen.”

“Just think. Next spring you can bring them here. I can picture them crawling through the flowers. Be careful, though. They’ll probably try to eat them.” Mary had when she’d been an infant.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Your babies eating bluebonnets?”

“No.” Isabelle reached for Harriet’s hand as they walked toward the center of the meadow, their skirts brushing the flowers, setting off a ripple of blue. “Next spring is what concerns me. Everyone in Ladreville is excited about Ruth and Sterling’s betrothal.” Isabelle wrinkled her nose. “Everyone but you. You don’t seem happy. Are you displeased by the match?”

“No.” How could Isabelle think that? “When Sterling asked permission to court Ruth, I gave it freely. I’ll admit I’m thankful they’ve decided to wait a year, because that will give them a chance to prepare for marriage. It’s a major step . . .” Harriet paused before adding, “for all of us.”

Isabelle did not appear convinced. “Are you certain you’re happy about this?”

Of course she was. A year would give Harriet time to plan the next stage of her life. “Only a selfish ogre would begrudge her sister happiness. I hope I’m not a selfish ogre.”

“You’re not.” Isabelle squeezed Harriet’s hand in reassurance. “But something’s wrong. The sparkle has left your eyes.”

Nonsense. “I must need to clean my spectacles.”

Isabelle stopped walking and faced Harriet. “You’re trying to distract me, but it won’t work.” She gave Harriet a long look. “I doubt you’re bothered by the fact that Karl hasn’t resumed his courtship, so if you’re not concerned about Ruth, there’s only one reason I can find for your megrims: Lawrence.”

“That’s preposterous,” Harriet sputtered. “Ladreville’s mayor has nothing to do with my moods.”

A frown greeted her words. “You never were a good liar, Harriet. Your eyes darken when you’re fibbing. Don’t try to deny it. After all, I know you better than most people in town.” Isabelle took a step forward, placing a finger under Harriet’s chin and tipping it so that she looked directly into her eyes. “I’ve tried not to say anything, because I know you don’t like people interfering with your life, but I can’t let you go on this way. Face it, Harriet. You’re miserable without him. Why don’t you admit you love the man?”

“Because I don’t.” Isabelle’s frown deepened, leading Harriet to add, “The truth is, I don’t know if I’m capable of loving anyone.” She hadn’t loved Thomas, and she certainly didn’t love Karl. As for Lawrence . . .

“
Quelle blague
.” Isabelle shook her head when she remembered that Harriet did not understand French. “What a joke. You’re a loving, caring woman. You love your siblings. That’s why you’d do anything for them. You care about your pupils, and I don’t believe I’m stretching the truth when I say you love me. Why won’t you admit you love Lawrence?”

“Because I don’t.” Dissembling would accomplish nothing. Isabelle was right; she knew Harriet well enough to recognize a lie. “Oh, I may have fancied myself in love at one point, but that was before he showed his true colors and proved that I don’t know the least bit about love. Oh, Isabelle, I want to
be loved
, not just love someone, but Lawrence is like all the rest. He thinks only of himself.”

Isabelle gasped, clearly shocked by Harriet’s accusation. “You’re wrong. Lawrence is a good, kind man. He’s a lawman, so he has to follow the law, but at the same time, he tries to do what’s best for everyone.” When Harriet started to protest, Isabelle placed a finger over her lips, stifling her retort. “If you’re still angry that he jailed Jake, shame on you. That was Lawrence’s job, but he did more than he had to. Your brother is a changed man, and it’s because of Lawrence. If you hadn’t closed your eyes, you’d see that. You’d also see that he’s perfect for you.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No, I’m not. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

Lawrence stared out the window. It was a beautiful May day. Though Zach had told him that Clay’s father, a Texas old-timer if there ever was one, was predicting heavy rain in the next few days, the sky was devoid of clouds and as deep a blue as Lawrence had ever seen. He wouldn’t dispute the old man’s prognosticative abilities, but it sure as bluebonnets in April didn’t look like rain.

His lips curved in a smile at the thought of his favorite spring flower. Though the bluebonnets had faded as they did each year at this time, Harriet’s garden was flourishing, providing beauty for the entire community. Any fears Harriet had once harbored about her contract not being renewed should have been put to rest. The Christmas pageant, the garden and, of course, her response to the school fire had established her as a local heroine. The townspeople could not say enough good things about her. Lawrence didn’t disagree.

Harriet was the most fascinating woman he had ever met—and the most frustrating. It appeared that once she made up her mind, nothing would change it. Other than superficially polite greetings when they met in public places, she refused to speak to him. She wouldn’t even open the notes he’d sent but returned them without a word. Though Sterling had suggested trying another small gift, Lawrence was unwilling to risk more rejection. Harriet’s mind was closed to him.

Each day Lawrence prayed for understanding, but there were no answers. He knew God had brought him to Ladreville for a reason, and as the months had passed, he had believed that reason was to settle down, marry, and raise a family—a ready-made family. He had also believed Harriet was the woman God intended for him. It appeared he was wrong.

“Sheriff Wood.” Lawrence turned, surprised by the familiar voice. What was Jake doing in his office? “Er . . . Mayor Wood . . . er . . .” Whatever brought him, it made the boy uncomfortable. Or perhaps Jake’s uncharacteristic reticence was the result of his proximity to the jail cell.

“Mr. Wood is fine.” Lawrence accompanied his words with a warm smile. “It’s good to see you, but shouldn’t you be at work?”

Jake shook his head. “Herr Goetz told me it was okay to come. I need to talk to you.” Though he did his best to hide it, Harriet’s brother sounded as if he were scared.

“Sit down.” Lawrence gestured toward the chair that faced away from the cell and took the other one, further blocking the view of the place where Jake had spent a month. “Now, what’s on your mind?”

“Will you marry Harriet?”

Lawrence felt his jaw drop with shock. “Did I hear you correctly?” When he’d first thought of marrying Harriet, Lawrence had known that her siblings could be a barrier. Harriet, he knew instinctively, would not consider a man the rest of the family would not accept. Lawrence had hoped that one day they’d give him that acceptance, even if it was grudging, but he’d never dreamt that one of them would approach him. “You want me to marry your sister?”

Though Jake nodded, his blue eyes were clouded with concern, as if he feared Lawrence would refuse. “Yes, sir,” he said, his voice shaking ever so slightly. “I talked to the others, and they all agreed. We’ll even call you Pa if you like.”

Lawrence smelled a rat, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Karl Friedrich was involved. “What’s going on, Jake? I know you don’t want a father.”

“No, sir, but if we have to have one, you’re the one we want.” Jake’s words confirmed Lawrence’s belief that Karl had said or done something to precipitate this unexpected conversation. “You wouldn’t boss Harriet around.”

“I don’t think anyone could boss your sister.”

Jake’s lips curled in contempt. “He tries, and he’ll be worse if she marries him.”

It had to be Karl. The grapevine had been silent, but whatever had happened might have been too recent for the town’s busybodies to learn of it. A chill snaked through Lawrence as he considered the possibilities. “Has Harriet agreed to marry Mr. Friedrich?”

“No.” It was only one word, but the relief it sent through Lawrence was far greater than the simple answer should warrant. Jake clenched his fists and stared at Lawrence. “She won’t say anything, but we think he asked her already and plans to ask again. We’re afraid she’ll give in.”

“Your sister is the strongest person I know. She won’t capitulate just because someone is persistent.”

“Cap . . . ? What does that mean?”

“It’s a fancy way of saying ‘give in.’ Believe me, Harriet won’t agree to anything she doesn’t want.”

“You don’t know her the way we do. She might marry him if she thought it was best for us.” Leaning forward, as if to emphasize his words, Jake continued. “Harriet’s always done that. Looked after us, that is. She didn’t have any friends in Fortune because she was so busy taking care of us. The only person who came around was Thomas, but she sent him packing. I heard her tell him she wouldn’t marry anyone who wouldn’t take good care of us, and he sure wouldn’t. He didn’t even love her.”

Lawrence heard the pain in Jake’s voice. “It was nothing personal, Jake. Thomas Bruckner doesn’t love anyone but himself.”

The boy’s face brightened. “You’re different. You may not love us, but you care about us. I know you do.”

“I do, and I’d like to help you, Jake.” Lawrence preferred not to imagine what the Kirk children’s lives would be like with Karl Friedrich as their brother-in-law. Though Lawrence had once been reluctant—oh, all right, downright unwilling—to take on a ready-made family, he had gotten past the point of considering Harriet’s siblings a nuisance. Unfortunately, he doubted that Karl had changed his mind. “The problem is, there’s nothing I can do.”

Jake shook his head vehemently. “Yes, there is. You can marry Harriet.”

He couldn’t let Jake continue with that fantasy. “It wouldn’t work. She wouldn’t agree. You see, Harriet doesn’t love me.”

Jake’s lips tightened. “She does. I know she does. Just ask her.”

And have his heart wrenched from his body and handed back to him on a silver platter like John the Baptist’s head? No, thank you. “Jake, I—”

Before Lawrence could finish the sentence, Steven Dunn poked his head through the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Sheriff,” Ladreville’s postmaster said, “but this telegram just came for you. It seems important.” He handed the piece of paper to Lawrence, waiting while he read it.

Lawrence frowned. Steven was right. This was important. More than that, it was urgent. Rustlers had struck, and Golden’s sheriff needed his help. With a deep sigh, Lawrence rose. “I’m sorry, Jake. I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you when I get back.” And then he would consider the preposterous, wonderful suggestion that he marry Harriet.

When he returned four days later, the Hill Country was blanketed with the rain Robert Canfield had predicted. Though Lawrence had seen his share of heavy downpours, he’d never seen any like this. Lashed by strong winds, the torrents were so thick that visibility was reduced to mere feet, and the roads were muddy morasses that challenged even Snip. The only good thing Lawrence could say about the rain was that it had slowed the rustlers even more than the posse, aiding in their capture. Now all he wanted was to be home and out of his sodden garments. He’d welcome a hot drink and a warm room to wait out the storm.

“Just a little longer, Snip,” Lawrence promised as he cut across Zach’s ranch, racing toward the river and home. Half an hour, and they’d be there. But when he reached the river, Lawrence shuddered. The Medina did not want to be crossed. He slowed his horse, staring at the sight of water spilling over the banks, rushing downstream at twice its normal speed. Snip whinnied, sensing Lawrence’s fears. A river like this could kill. Man and rider could be swept away in the blink of an eye.

A wise man would turn around and take refuge with Zach. Lawrence had always thought he was a wise man, but something he could not define made him urge Snip forward. He felt the way he had the day the school burned, filled with the certainty that he was needed on the opposite bank.

Help me
,
God
, he prayed silently.
Show me what you need
.

As a feeling of peace settled over him, Lawrence bent forward and patted Snip. “You can do it,” he said, infusing his words with confidence. The horse was a strong swimmer. He’d make it to the other side.

The current was fiercer than Lawrence had thought, buffeting Snip, threatening to knock them both sideways. He bent low, encouraging his stallion, trying desperately to keep his own fears from spooking the horse. “You can do it, Snip. I know you can.”

And he did. As the palomino struggled to climb the muddy bank, Lawrence slipped off and guided him to safety. “Good job,” he said to the horse. Raising his eyes to the leaden skies, he murmured a prayer of thanks. It was time to learn who needed him.

25

She had never seen rain like this. Two days of heavy downpours had soaked the ground, creating puddles that turned into ponds, leaving Ladreville looking like an inland sea. Then, when everyone had thought the worst was over, the storm had intensified. Now wind lashed the rain, making it virtually impossible to traverse the roads. Harriet had canceled school for fear that a child might slip and be injured, though she doubted anyone would have ventured outdoors, even if she had tried to conduct classes. It appeared that all commerce had been halted, waiting for the storm to subside.

Harriet and her siblings remained at home, clustered around the stove in the parlor, for—despite the calendar’s declaration that it was early May—the house was chilled by the days without sun. The boys were playing games, and Ruth was helping Mary piece a quilt for her doll while Harriet read. Or tried to read. She’d already put down the copy of
Vanity Fair
, for it reminded her of the conversations she and Lawrence had had about Thackeray’s story. The next book on the stack was the one Lawrence had given her for Christmas. As beautiful as the pictures were, she wouldn’t pick up that one, for it held even more memories. The problem was, no matter where Harriet turned, there were memories of Lawrence. She remembered his laughter, his solemn moments, even his anger, but the memory that haunted her was the disappointment she’d seen in his eyes the last time she had snubbed him.

Harriet closed her eyes. It hadn’t been disappointment. It had been pain, and she had caused it. She, Harriet Kirk, who taught her pupils to be kind to one another, had been cruel to a man who deserved nothing but her thanks. Isabelle was right. Lawrence had simply been doing his job. The town had hired him to uphold the law, and that was what he’d done. It was only Harriet, afraid of public shame, who hadn’t accepted that.

Her fingers touched the picture book Lawrence had given her, savoring the fine leather binding, but the volume she pulled from the table was her Bible. As it fell open to the center, Harriet’s eyes lit on the first verse of Psalm 133. “Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.” It
had
been good and pleasant when she and Lawrence had been friends, but she had spoiled it. She had been stubborn and headstrong and had refused to forgive him.

The truth was, there was nothing for her to forgive. It was Harriet who needed to ask for forgiveness. She was the one who’d wronged him. Though her last words to Lawrence had been angry, their friendship didn’t have to end that way. It wouldn’t be easy for her. Harriet knew that. But when he returned, she would apologize and ask his forgiveness for her unkindness. Then perhaps the world would once again be filled with promise.

Harriet laid the Bible back on the table, feeling more at peace than she had since the night she’d sent Lawrence away. Soon it would be all right. She would have her friend back in her life. She started to smile, and then . . .

Rap! Rap! Harriet’s hands began to tremble with dread. This was no ordinary knocking. Someone was pounding on the front door, and that could only mean an emergency. Had Lawrence been hurt? Jake had said he’d gone to catch rustlers. Lawrence was a good shot, an excellent shot in fact, but even Rangers were occasionally injured. Or worse. Harriet wouldn’t allow herself to consider that possibility.

“I’ll go,” she told her family as she hurried to the door, flinging it open.

“Gunther!” The man appeared soaked to the skin. Even his hat provided little protection, for water streamed from the brim onto his shoulders. “Come in.” Harriet beckoned him inside, her heart beginning to thud at the anguish she saw on his face. “What’s wrong?”

Fear shone from Gunther’s blue eyes, and his accent was more pronounced than normal as he said, “It’s Isabelle. Her time has come.”

“But the babies aren’t due for another six weeks.”

A shudder rippled through him. “They don’t seem to know that. Ach, Harriet, you’ve got to help her. She’s been having pains for hours.” His face contorted with the memory. “They’re getting closer now. You’ve got to help her,” he repeated.

Though Harriet had heard of women having pains that proved to be nothing more than a false alarm, it didn’t sound as if that was the case today. Isabelle’s travail had begun, and somehow, some way this man thought she could help. “But, Gunther, I know nothing about babies,” she protested.

He shook his head. “She wants you by her side. Her mother is gone. They took Eva to Fredericksburg for a few days. Priscilla and Clay are on the other side of the river. No one can cross it now.” Harriet nodded, knowing Isabelle’s worst fear had come true: the river was impassible when she required Priscilla’s care. “Please, Harriet.” Gunther gripped her hands, his eyes shining with intensity. “She needs you. I need you. I can’t lose her.”

“Of course I’ll come. But then I want you to go for Madame Seurat.” Though she had no experience as a midwife, Madame Seurat had three children of her own. Together, they could help Isabelle, for Gunther, close to paralyzed by the memory of his first wife’s death in childbirth, would provide precious little assistance. Grabbing her cloak, Harriet gave Ruth a quick explanation of the situation, ending, “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Seconds later, she had climbed into Gunther’s wagon, headed toward Hochstrasse. Though she had hoped otherwise, the storm had not diminished. If anything, it had intensified, sending sheets of rain cascading across the street, reducing visibility further, muffling even the sounds of the wagon wheels. Harriet peered into the distance, hating the way the rain spotted her spectacles, making it difficult to see. Not that there would be much to see. Nothing short of an emergency would bring people out in this weather.

She and Gunther had reached the corner of Hochstrasse and were preparing to turn right toward Gunther’s house when Harriet blinked, startled by the sight of what appeared to be a horse and rider approaching from the river. Surely no one had attempted a crossing. The Medina had spilled over its banks earlier today, and the current was dangerously swift. Who would have been so foolish as to even approach the river? It must be more bad news.

The rider continued toward Harriet and Gunther, and as he drew closer, Harriet recognized him. “Lawrence!” she cried, her heart filling with joy at the realization that he was back, unharmed. “I’m so glad to see you.” She had been wrong. This wasn’t bad news. Lawrence was safe, and if anyone could help her, it would be he.

“What are you doing out in this weather?” Lawrence reined Snip in on Harriet’s side of the wagon. Though his eyes reflected concern, there was none of the pain she had seen the last time.
Thank you, God.
She wouldn’t wait another day. As soon as Isabelle’s babies were safely delivered, Harriet would tell Lawrence everything that was in her heart. But first her other friend needed her.

She leaned over the side of the wagon, raising her voice to be heard above the pounding rain. “Isabelle’s babies are coming before their time. I don’t know anything about babies, and . . .” She darted a look at Gunther, as if to tell Lawrence the prospective father would provide no assistance. “We can’t reach Priscilla or Clay, but I need someone who can help Isabelle. Would you bring Madame Seurat? I think Isabelle would be more comfortable with someone who speaks French.” And who knew something about childbirth. Harriet did not voice the words, but she suspected Lawrence understood.

“Ja. That would be good.”

Though Gunther spoke, Lawrence kept his eyes focused on Harriet, and she saw the lines between them deepen. “What Isabelle needs is a midwife or a doctor.” Lowering his voice slightly so that Gunther would not overhear, he added, “Clay said twins can be complicated.”

They were being pelted by cold rain, discussing a possible medical crisis. She ought to have been shivering with apprehension, and yet warmth spread through Harriet. It felt so good to be with Lawrence again, working together to solve a problem.

“I won’t argue with you, but there’s no way either Priscilla or Clay can cross the river. Madame Seurat is the best alternative.”

Lawrence shook his head. “Let me be the judge of that.” He looked down Rhinestrasse toward the main river crossing. The Medina’s overflow had turned the street itself into a small river. “I’ll get you the help you and Isabelle need.”

Blood drained from Harriet’s face as she realized what he was proposing. He couldn’t. No one could cross the river when the current was this strong. It would be difficult—perhaps impossible—for anyone, but for someone who feared deep water as Lawrence did, it was unthinkable.

“Please, Lawrence, no.”

“Don’t be a fool.” Gunther’s words were harsh. “It’s suicide to try to ford the river now.”

Harriet clenched her fists as Gunther’s words sent images racing through her brain. “You can’t do this, Lawrence. Even if you could cross, how could you bring anyone back?”

Lawrence’s lips tightened. “We’re wasting precious time. I crossed it before, and I can do it again. Snip knows how to swim this river. He can bring Priscilla back. I’ll ride her horse.” Lawrence gave Harriet a fleeting smile. “Don’t worry.”

But she would. Of course she would. Until Lawrence was safely back on this bank, she would worry. And pray.
Dear Lord, keep him safe.

Lawrence leaned forward, murmuring something to his horse, and the two galloped toward the Medina, water splashing each time Snip’s hooves hit the ground. When they reached the raging river, the horse hesitated.

“No, Lawrence!” Harriet doubted he heard her shout, for he was a block away. She turned toward Gunther. “We’ve got to stop him.”

It was too late. Snip entered the river and began to swim toward the opposite bank, his rider bent low over his neck. It was slow going, for they had to dodge the branches and logs that were being propelled downstream at a fearsome rate. Harriet winced when one collided with Snip. But then she realized that there was another, greater threat. The river had begun to swirl, creating a series of whirlpools that threatened to drag Lawrence and Snip down. Twice Harriet saw the palomino falter, and she feared he would drown.
Keep them safe
, she prayed.
Let them reach the other side.

They had reached the middle, the deepest part, when a loud rumbling filled the air. Harriet looked at Gunther, confused. Though it sounded like thunder, she knew it was not. Storms like this brought no thunder.

“
Nein. Gott in Himmel, nein
.” Gunther’s eyes widened, and his words were part prayer, part horrified exclamation. “The dam has broken.”

It couldn’t have. Harriet remembered Gunther entering his kitchen during the last rain, telling Isabelle the dam was fine. Surely he was mistaken. Surely the dam would hold again.

Harriet stared at the spot where Lawrence had been. More quickly than she had dreamt possible, an enormous surge of water swelled the already overflowing river. Gunther was not mistaken. The dam that powered his mill had crumbled, sending hundreds of thousands of gallons of water downstream at a truly frightening speed. The deluge was sweeping everything away, including the man Harriet loved.
Please
,
God
, she prayed silently.
Save him
.
Save Lawrenc
e.

There was no answer, no sound but the roaring river, no sight but raging water that had overflowed the banks and was heading toward her and Gunther. Lawrence was gone.

As the horses began to rear in panic, Gunther tugged the reins and turned the wagon northward toward his home. “There is naught we can do for Lawrence.” Sorrow filled Gunther’s voice. “Isabelle needs us.”

Harriet shuddered, her heart refusing to admit what her brain had registered. It wasn’t possible. Lawrence hadn’t been taken from her. But he had and in the worst way possible. Oh, Lawrence! She closed her eyes, trying to block out the image of the water closing over his head. How horrible it must have been, knowing he was suffering the same fate as his sister. Surely it was a nightmare. Surely she would soon awaken. But the emptiness deep inside told Harriet this was no nightmare. It was real. What a fool she had been. She had wasted the time she and Lawrence might have had. She had let her pride, her foolish pride, keep them apart, and now it was too late.

Numb with grief, Harriet nodded. Gunther was right. There was nothing they could do here. Nothing she could do would change what had happened. Nothing would bring Lawrence back. But now, somehow, some way she had to help Isabelle.

“Please, God, help me.” She murmured the words, praying that the fact that she had spoken them would make a difference.

God had not answered her first prayer. He had not saved Lawrence, but surely he would not let Isabelle and her babies die. Surely he would not let Gunther lose another wife. Taking a deep breath, Harriet resolved to do everything in her power to keep Gunther’s family alive.

“I knew you’d come,” Isabelle said five minutes later when Harriet entered her bedchamber.

“I’m here, but your husband is heading out again. He’s going to bring Madame Seurat.”

“But the water . . .”

Harriet gripped Gunther’s arm and turned him toward the door. “We need her. And,” she added softly, “Isabelle doesn’t need to know what has happened.” Once the babies were born would be time enough to tell her about the broken dam and Lawrence. “She doesn’t need to know, not now.” And Harriet did not need to think about all she had lost. There would be time for grieving later.

She studied the woman on the bed. Isabelle’s face was paler than normal, her brown eyes two enormous spots in an expanse of white. Lines etched the corners of her mouth, telling Harriet more clearly than words the pain she was experiencing. Though the last thing she wanted to do was laugh, Harriet respected the therapeutic effects of humor. Fisting both hands on her hips, she pretended to glare at her friend. “Your babies sure picked a fine day to be born. I hope you’re planning to call them Rain and Drop.”

As she had hoped, Isabelle began to chuckle. A second later she grasped her abdomen as a contraction began. “Don’t make me laugh,” she said when the pain subsided. “It hurts.” But, though Isabelle might claim otherwise, she looked better. A tinge of color had reached her cheeks, and the pain in her eyes had diminished.