A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(104)
Chapter
23
SPRING, 1882
FORESTVILLE, MICHIGAN
“Mama, Mama!” Gretchen burst through the door of their new home with Snowdrop trailing behind.
Annalisa glanced up from the hearth and the oven-like contraption Carl had made for drying clothes. Over the winter, in all his tinkering he’d created a means for blowing hot air from the fire onto the clothes while they tumbled around a cylinder. The method, while unconventional, had been especially helpful during the long months, when line-drying clothes outside in the frigid temperatures became impractical.
“Mama.” Gretchen stopped short, and her long braids bounced against her shoulders. A wide grin brightened her face. “You must go to the barn.”
At the spark of mystery in the girl’s tone, Annalisa asked, “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Gretchen’s smile turned secretive. “You just need to go to the barn.”
Annalisa straightened and put a hand to her aching back. She supposed it was about time to do the barn chores anyway.
“I’ll stay here and watch Sophie,” Gretchen offered. She went across the one-room house that neighbors and friends from the area had helped rebuild with lumber provided by a Detroit relief organization.
Sophie, at nine months old, was sitting in the middle of the bedstead, banging a spoon against a tin cup and giggling at the noise she was making. Gretchen crawled up on the bed and began playing with the baby.
Annalisa gave a tired sigh and glanced out the open door to the drizzle that had cast shadows all day. Spring had fortunately come early and had brought all the rain they’d missed the previous summer. Amidst the dead, charred ruins, the land was coming back to life with a bright green that took away some of the pain and destruction the fire had left in its wake.
The land had survived. And so had they. The winter had been one of the worst yet, and if Clara Barton’s Red Cross hadn’t stepped in to help provide clothes and food, they may have had to move. As it was, they’d received blankets, knives, spoons, forks, cups, plates, chairs, and a fair supply of clothing—the first ever from a store rather than the handmade clothes they’d always worn.
Of course, the wild animals had disappeared, likely moving to areas that hadn’t been touched by the fire, where they could survive the harsh winter. Only the wild hares had stayed behind, and even though Annalisa had been grateful for any food at all, she was tired of rabbit meat and ready for the fresh produce of the coming summer.
As Carl had pointed out, at least they would have plenty of acres of land for plowing and planting. The fire had cleared the land for them. This year they could potentially double if not triple their crops. And when Carl returned, they would harvest the winter wheat and begin the spring sowing.
If only Carl hadn’t decided to go . . .
She sighed again, knowing she wasn’t as tired as much as she was melancholy.
He’d only been gone two weeks, leaving when the ice had finally broken up on the lake, which allowed the steamers to operate. He’d wanted to take his inventions to Detroit. She wasn’t sure what he planned to do with them, but he’d promised he would be back in time for the plowing.
She could only pray it was true, that he hadn’t gotten tired of farm life and decided to return to the Old Country, as his father had begged him in each letter they received.
Carl had asked her if she’d be willing to go back for a visit at some point, and she’d told him that she would. For the present, he’d seemed happy with her and their farm. He’d spent the winter making his inventions and teaching children in the area—those who could manage to walk through the cold and snow to their home.
Bitte, Gott, she prayed, as she had many times over the past two weeks. Bring him back safely.
“Hurry, Mama.” Gretchen smiled mysteriously again.
Annalisa switched off the dryer contraption and wiped her hands on her apron. “Very well. I’ll go to the barn.”
She indulged her daughter in a smile and headed into the drizzly April afternoon. What had Gretchen found this time? More dandelions? The first edible roots of the season?
Her stomach rumbled with the constant hunger that had lingered throughout the long winter. With slow, heavy steps she crossed the farmyard and tugged at the barn door, pausing and letting the coolness of the spring breeze soothe her face.
She really was grateful. She had so much more than most of her neighbors, who had lost everything in the fire. Her barn, tools, most of her animals, and hay had escaped the inferno.
As she stepped inside, she stopped in surprise. One of the lanterns was lit and hung from the rafters, casting a warm glow over the haymow. Someone had spread a blanket and had placed a bouquet of wildflowers in the center—the first blossoms of spring in an array of soft purples and pinks. And next to the flowers sat a basket covered with a towel.
Her heartbeat tumbled over itself with breathless anticipation. “Carl?” She squinted, searching the shadows.
She felt his presence behind her even before she heard the crunch of his boots in the hay. Before she could turn, his hands slid around her waist.
“My beautiful wife,” he whispered against her ear. His breath bathed her neck in warmth. His strong arms pulled her back against his torso, and his lips found the skin beneath her ear.