A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(4)

But she couldn’t leave—not without knowing the fate Vater decided for her.

As hard as it had been with Hans, she knew there were men who were worse, men who wouldn’t hesitate to beat her or Gretchen.

Herr Pastor took a bite of bread, seemingly unruffled by Vater’s outburst. Of all the men in the room, Reverend Hermann Loehe was the most educated and spoke English well enough to converse with the locals. He’d resided in Forestville the longest and had helped their community in countless ways since they’d arrived. They couldn’t afford to alienate him.

His wife, Frau Pastor, broke away from the group of women in the corner and bustled to the table with more kartoffelsuppe.

“I could post a letter to my former parish down in Frankenlust,” Herr Pastor offered. “They may have an unattached man who might be willing to relocate.”

“Good idea, dear-heart,” Frau Pastor said, ladling the soup into his bowl. Her fleshy cheeks were flushed and curved into a dimpled smile. She was the only woman who ever dared entering into the men’s conversations. “I’m sure there would be a man worthy of our dear Annalisa from among the congregation.”

“A complete stranger is no good,” Vater bellowed as he held out his plate to Mutter.

As if Mutter had been watching for his summons, she scurried to the table to do his bidding and refill his plate. She still wore the same woolen peasant garb she’d brought with her from the Old Country. In fact, the plain brown dress and matching headscarf were the same she’d worn on the ship six years ago when they’d sailed out of Hamburg.

Even during the long months when they’d had to live in Detroit before finding land to buy, Mutter had insisted on wearing her sack-like garb. Most of the other Saxon women, when faced with ridicule over their heavy woolen clothes, had quickly conformed to the American styles.



But not Mutter. She would not think of wasting even the smallest length of thread to reshape their dresses.

“It’s too bad Leonard was the last of our men needing a wife.” Vater crossed his hands behind his head, revealing round damp spots under his arms. His sweaty hair stuck to his wide sun-browned forehead. Even though the door was open to invite in the cool evening air, the windows were sealed with oiled paper instead of glass, and the welcome fresh air refused to enter.

At the end of the table, Leonard belched. “Maybe it’s not too late to make an exchange, Herr Bernthal.”

Vater only harrumphed and waggled his hand at Mutter, trying to hurry her along with his second plate of sausage.

“I’ll give you back Idette,” Leonard continued, “in exchange for Annalisa.”

Annalisa stiffened. Next to her, Idette sucked in a breath.

“Idette is a lazy wife, and she has no experience with children.”

Vater sat forward and stared down the length of the table at Leonard. “I don’t know what kind of nonsense you’re speaking. None of my children are lazy. I’ve raised them all to be hard workers.”

Annalisa groped for Idette’s fingers. At seventeen her sister was only two years younger than she. Even so, inheriting five children on one’s wedding day would have taxed the most matronly of women. So far her sister had done the best she could. Couldn’t Leonard see that?

“A cow could manage my children better than she does,” Leonard grumbled.

The muscles in Idette’s hand tightened under Annalisa’s hold. Color infused her sister’s pretty face, and she learned forward as if she would defend herself.



“Then maybe I should have given you a cow instead of my daughter.” Vater leveled a stern look at Leonard.

“She’ll adjust,” Herr Pastor said quickly, glancing between Vater and Leonard, his whiskery eyebrows furrowing.

“Yes, give the child time,” Frau Pastor added. “After all, the wedding was less than three weeks ago. She’s young, hardly older than your children. And these things aren’t easy.”

“I’m doing the very best I can,” Idette said.

Annalisa knew she ought to stop Idette from speaking disrespectfully to her husband. But she couldn’t, not when she’d always admired Idette’s spirit and courage and wished she could have just a small measure of it for herself.

Idette lifted her chin and continued, “And I do everything I’m told.”

Leonard rolled his eyes. “That’s the problem. I need a wife who will see what needs to be done and do it without having to be told like a child.”

“You must gently instruct her,” Herr Pastor said. But his words were drowned by the guffaws and loud protests of the other men at the table. Pastor’s advice was as foreign to them as many of the American customs.

Idette glared at Leonard. “He’s a brute,” she whispered to Annalisa. “You’re lucky to be rid of your husband.”

Lucky? Annalisa knew better. Having a bad husband was better than no husband. What hope did she have for her future without a husband?

For several minutes the room filled with the usual boisterous noise, as all the men were talking at the same time.

Finally, Vater swallowed his last bite of sausage and shoved his plate to the center of the table. “I still have not solved the problem of what to do for Annalisa.”

If only she had a golden apple, or a golden goose, or something gold from one of the Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales. Then she would be able to provide Gretchen with a better life.