A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(48)

“I’m bringing Annalisa the dandelions I’ve collected so she can make some of her dandelion jelly everyone raves about.”

Annalisa shook her head. “I think you’re the only one who raves, Frau Pastor.”

“I’m sure I’ll rave too,” Carl said, gently lowering Gretchen back to the ground. “Annalisa has a talent for making something tasty out of practically nothing.”

At his words Frau Loehe tipped up her hat and leveled a hard stare at him, the kind of look that penetrated deep inside. Uri, standing nearby, eyed him too, as if trying to understand him.

Carl tried not to squirm. But under their scrutiny he felt every bit like a student being tested by his magister on his Latin verb conjugations.

Frau Loehe pursed her lips together, making deep grooves around her mouth. Could she see that he’d been deceiving them about who he was?

The urge to run away shoved at him, yet he forced himself to stand tall and give her a smile for good measure.

In an instant, the frown flipped, and her face was wreathed with the same grin as before, as if she was satisfied with what she’d seen in him. “Well, aren’t you just a dear-heart?”

“I hope so.” He liked Frau Loehe, especially for her protectiveness of Annalisa.

“He seems like a very sweet man, Annalisa,” the woman said. “Too bad we didn’t just get you married to him that day when we thought he was your groom.”

Annalisa didn’t say anything but instead stared at the tip of the boot she was twisting back and forth in a thick patch of grass.

He knew he should say something to lighten the moment, to put her at ease, to reassure her that he didn’t agree with Frau Loehe, but his usual wit seemed to have abandoned him.

Frau Loehe stretched behind her, heaving and huffing as she reached for a couple of tin pails. “Be dearies.” She sat up, motioned to him and Uri, and adjusted her hat, which had slipped to one side. “Fetch the pails of dandelions for Annalisa.”

“Of course.” Carl stepped to the wagon bed that was filled with an assortment of crates and buckets. Uri followed his lead.

“Oh, you really are a dear-heart.” She reached for Carl’s cheeks and pinched them.

He lifted a pail of bright yellow florets. “Seems to me you’re the dear-heart for bringing such a plentiful supply of flowers.”

Frau Loehe giggled like a girl. “Oh, I do like him, Annalisa. I wish we could find a way to keep him.”

Once again Annalisa was silent.

Did she want him to stay? Or was she ready for him to go? He didn’t want to look into her eyes and give her any false hope. Instead he reached for Gretchen and patted her head.

Frau Loehe glanced at the girl and then back to Carl before groping for the reins she’d left dangling.

“Are you sure you can’t stay for a little while, Frau Pastor?” Annalisa said quickly, her cheeks a fetching shade of pink.

“I’ll come back for a taste of that jelly soon.” Frau Loehe gave a shake of the reins. “But for today I must be moving along. I’m spreading the warning from farm to farm to be on the watch for typhoid fever.”

“Typhoid?” Annalisa’s voice dripped with dread.

Frau Loehe nodded solemnly. “They’ve had an outbreak over in Minden City. And just today several of our Forestville families have hung out the white flag.”

Annalisa shuddered and reached for Gretchen, hugging her against her skirt.



Carl’s chest constricted at the thought of Annalisa or Gretchen getting sick. “Are we at risk?”

“I don’t think so,” Frau Loehe said. “The families with the outbreak are farther to the west. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t let everyone know they need to be on the lookout for symptoms—fever, headache, poor appetite, and aches and pains.”

He knew. There had been several outbreaks of typhoid while he served in the military during the Franco-Prussian War. The illness had ravaged the army. He and his friends had joked that they were more likely to die from typhoid than from a bullet or a cannon blast.

“And you know,” Frau Loehe continued, “if anyone exhibits the symptoms, you need to put out a white flag of your own to warn visitors that you have a contagious disease.”

“We’ll be fine.” Annalisa clutched Gretchen’s shoulders, her knuckles turning white.

Carl wanted to tell her that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her or Gretchen. His muscles contracted with the need to keep them safe—safe from Ward, safe from losing their farm in the fall, and safe from disease. In fact, the need to protect them swelled and pressed against his chest with such power he almost sagged to his knees.

What was happening to him that he cared so much?

He’d warned himself not to get too close. He’d only cause them all grief if he didn’t maintain a proper distance from her and keep their relationship purely platonic.

Hadn’t he learned from his past mistakes, especially with Lord Faust’s wife? He’d tried to establish an appropriate distance with Lady Celia, had nothing more than a simple friendship. But somehow he’d failed to communicate his boundaries. She’d grown more attached to him than he’d realized. In the end, she’d tried to entice him into her room. When he’d refused, she pouted and pleaded with him. Then she’d gotten angry and threatened him. Finally she’d gone to her husband and told lies about him.