A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(13)
And syrup wouldn’t plow the hard soil. Syrup wouldn’t repair the fences that would keep the foxes from stealing chickens. Syrup most certainly wouldn’t pay off the loan by the October thirtieth deadline.
Ja, she had to get remarried if she had any chance at all of planting and harvesting an abundant crop—a crop that would hopefully help her earn the balance of what she still owed on the farm loan, which was a little over one hundred dollars. Even with a decent crop, she would be hard-pressed to pay off the remainder when it came due.
If only Hans hadn’t been so wasteful.
She lumbered a few awkward steps. The bucket bumped her leg painfully. She tried hefting it higher.
“Wait.” Carl charged to her side. “Since I cannot do the honor of delivering your message to Ward this afternoon, the least I can do is carry your bucket.”
“I don’t need any help.”
“Oh, I can see that.” An edge of humor tinged his voice. “But since I’ve always dreamed of carrying a large vat of . . . of . . .” He peered into the bucket and raised his eyebrows as if trying to identify what was inside.
“Maple sap.” Gretchen supplied the words.
“Yes.” He showered a bright smile upon the little girl. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to tote an enormous bucket of maple sap.”
Gretchen gave him a hesitant smile in response.
“I’ll actually be quite disappointed if I cannot experience this once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.” His grinned turned lopsided and made Annalisa’s heart do a funny flip.
She lowered the bucket to the ground, quite sure he was teasing her, but completely unprepared for how she ought to respond.
“If you deny me the opportunity, I may have to hide myself behind that big tree and have a good cry.” He cocked his head toward the largest oak near the road.
Gretchen’s eyes widened.
He winked at her.
“Mama will let you carry,” she said earnestly. “Won’t you, Mama?”
Annalisa’s grip on the handle loosened. The thought of giving up her burden was tempting. Her tired muscles wouldn’t mind the break.
The look in his eyes pleaded with her to allow him this offer of assistance.
Her stomach did another flip. “I suppose just this once.”
His grin spread.
She glanced away, trying to prevent the smile that tugged at her lips. “Especially since we can’t have you crying behind trees.” He would be her husband before the day’s end anyway. What difference would it make if he came back to the cabin and saw his new home? That’s likely what he wanted.
“I can see that you’re a wise woman.” He lifted the bucket and stumbled under the weight of it. “And you’re obviously strong too. This is very heavy.”
This time she couldn’t keep from smiling.
He fumbled at the handle and repositioned his grip.
“Have you changed your mind already?” The teasing question slipped out unbidden. At the brazenness of her words she caught her breath, reached for Gretchen’s cold fingers, and wrapped them in her own. She tugged the girl forward, moving ahead of her groom before he could see the strange effect he was having on her.
She led Gretchen around a lump of muddy snow that had hidden from the sun in the shadows and had escaped thawing. The thin soles of her boots squelched in the dampness of the decaying leaves. Their moldy odor rose with each step, shaming her, reminding her that marriage was a serious and unpleasant affair.
She wanted to believe this stranger was truly helping her out of the kindness of his heart, but she’d learned long ago that men—husbands—didn’t go out of their way to be helpful unless they wanted something in return.
No matter how much this man smiled or teased her and Gretchen, she would be wise to remember those initial feelings wouldn’t last. They hadn’t with Hans.
When Hans had come courting her in the first months after her family arrived in Forestville, she’d found herself waiting for him, longing for him to look at her. And whenever he’d fixed his intense gaze upon her, she’d quivered in anticipation.
Of course, at sixteen she hadn’t known what Hans’s look had meant. Naively she’d believed his attraction symbolized devotion and affection. She’d dreamed that after their wedding he would sweep her off her feet and ride away with her to their new home, where they would live happily ever after.
What a dummkopf she’d been.
It had taken one night—her first—with Hans to realize what he’d wanted from her.
After three years of marriage, no matter how hard she’d worked to earn his love, she’d never been able to please him.
And she’d come to fully understand that true love didn’t matter, that it didn’t exist.
She’d do best not to forget it.
“So how does all this sap-collecting work?” He stopped in front of one of the collection pails, lowered the bucket, and began examining the hole, the spout, and the tree, as if he wished he could cut it open and see inside.
She hesitated, but at the genuine interest in his face she gave him a brief explanation, the one Frau Pastor had given to her. It was the same method the natives had used for centuries to collect the sweet liquid that flowed in the maple trees every spring for only a few short weeks.