A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)
Jody Hedlund
Chapter
1
FALL, 1880
FORESTVILLE, MICHIGAN
Hans had stolen all the egg money—again.
Annalisa Werner’s chapped fingers trembled against the frayed edge of the apron she’d turned into a basket. The burden of walnuts stretched the thin linen so that it seemed to groan in protest.
Her husband had gone too far this time.
“I can’t bear another day of his foolishness.” In the quietness of the thick grove, her native Deutsch tongue echoed harshly. And yet the words were only a whisper compared to the clamoring inside her aching heart.
Ahead, Gretchen cocked her head, a gentle breeze teasing her silky blond hair. “Mama?” The two-year-old peered up at Annalisa with her trusting baby eyes.
“Ach, liebchen.” Annalisa forced a smile to her tired lips. “Did you find another nut for Mama?”
The little girl held out a faded green fuzzy ball.
“You are a big helper to Mama.” Annalisa took the fleshy fruit and added it to the pile in her apron. “Now can you find another?”
They would need every nut they could gather if they were to survive the harsh Michigan winter that would soon be upon them—especially since Hans had found the crock she’d hidden in the darkest corner under the bed in their small log cabin.
She shook her head, and the long braid down her back swished with all the anger that had been tightening her body since she’d learned of her husband’s latest gambling trip.
“Who’s the dummkopf now? Who?”
She was the dummkopf, that’s who. She should have known better.
She thought she’d finally found a good hiding place, somewhere she could keep their pittance of earnings safe from his wasteful ways. Besides, after gambling and drinking away much of their profit from the recent harvest, she’d hoped he’d learned his lesson.
And yet, when she’d returned from town a short while ago and pulled out the crock to add the money she’d earned from selling eggs and butter, she’d discovered that everything she’d saved over the summer was gone.
He hadn’t left a cent.
Just like the last time.
Ja, she was the dummkopf.
Dry leaves crunched under the thick calluses of her bare feet as she followed Gretchen’s dawdling footsteps. How would she be able to give her sweet little girl a better future if she couldn’t keep Hans from using up their savings?
A buried cry of distress scraped at Annalisa’s chest and pushed for release.
If only she didn’t need a husband . . .
“More, Mama.” Gretchen picked up another walnut. Its brownish-green flesh was gnawed away, revealing a rotten, empty cavern.
“That one is no good.” Annalisa shook her head. “Some wild creature has already eaten the nut.”
The October sunshine ducked through the fluttering cascade of dying leaves overhead and touched Gretchen’s hair, turning it the same soft gold as the butter Annalisa had churned early that morning.
“You have the same color hair as Rapunzel.” This time she gave her daughter a real smile, one that contained all the love that filled every crevice of her soul.
Gretchen dropped the nut and lifted her beaming face. “Story?”
Annalisa combed the loose strands of the little girl’s hair off her forehead, seeing in her daughter a miniature reflection of herself—from the smattering of freckles across her nose to the wide lilac eyes to the golden hair.
Her daughter was like her in almost every way, even in her longing for fanciful stories of princesses, knights in shining armor, and true love. The difference was Gretchen hadn’t learned yet—like she had—that fairy tales were only dreams and that there was no such thing as a happily ever after.
“Nein, liebchen. No story. Not now.” Annalisa straightened and pushed down the sudden uncomfortable wave of nausea. “Tonight. At bedtime. I’ll tell you the story about the princess who tended the geese.”
Gretchen clasped her hands together and smiled. “I like ‘The Goose Girl.’”
“I can’t think of a story you don’t like.” Annalisa tweaked the girl’s nose gently. Then she took a deep breath and caught the smokiness of burning brush.
The smoke didn’t alarm her. In fact, the billows of black clouds rising to the south of the cornfield brought nothing more than a rush of renewed anger.
At least now she knew where to find Hans—if she wanted to.
Similar to many of their immigrant friends on the adjoining farms, Hans had been spending part of his workdays clearing more land so they would have additional acreage available for planting in the spring. But of the forty acres he’d purchased on loan four years ago, he hadn’t cleared as much as their neighbors.
If only he hadn’t been so busy running off to Saxonia Hall every chance he had. If only he thought about how his wastefulness would lead to another sparse and hungry winter for her and Gretchen.
Maybe she should march over to where he was working and confront him about taking the money. She’d given up her dreams of a fairy-tale life long ago, but that didn’t mean Gretchen had to suffer, did it?
Annalisa’s fingers tightened again on the tattered edge of her apron.