A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(55)

She started to push herself up but hesitated.

“Go!” Carl said.

“Mama?” Gretchen skipped near.

“No!” Carl held up a hand to keep the little girl from approaching.

Gretchen stopped.

“Take her away.” Anguish laced his voice. “Take her someplace safe.”

She wouldn’t tell him that it was likely too late, that if he had typhoid fever, he’d probably already exposed them to the disease.

“I want you to leave with Gretchen.” His gaze met hers again. But the anger was gone, and desperation had replaced it. “Please . . .”

“I’ll do my best to send Gretchen away,” she whispered through a tight throat. “But I’m not running off and leaving you here by yourself to die.”



He didn’t protest. Instead he dropped his head, defeat hanging in the air around him.

Somehow she managed to help him back to the cabin, to the bed where he collapsed.

One touch was all it took to feel the burning of his fever. With a great deal of tugging and heaving she freed him from his shirt and boots, leaving him in his soil-stained trousers and undervest. In the stifling heat of the cabin she knew she ought to unclothe him even more, but her cheeks burned at the thought.

She spent the rest of the morning and afternoon bringing in buckets of cold water from the well and bathing his overheated skin with cool cloths.

When a wagon rolled into the farmyard later in the day, only then did she remember she’d forgotten to nail a white scrap of cloth to the cabin as a warning that they were infected. She rushed out to wave the traveler away, but at the sight of Frau Pastor, she burst into tears.

The older woman hopped down from her wagon and smothered Annalisa with a tight hug. “Oh, dearie, dearie,” she said, kissing her head and patting her back.

When Annalisa was finally composed, she pulled away and hung her head. What had come over her to cry in Frau Pastor’s arms?

But even as the question sifted through her, she knew the answer. She was deathly scared of losing Carl. He’d been lying on the bed unconscious all day, and his fever had only grown worse. And with each passing hour she’d grown more frantic with the need to save him.

“We all should have a good cry from time to time.” Frau Pastor wiped her cheeks, and Annalisa was surprised to see the woman’s tears.

“You’re a kind woman, Frau Pastor.”



The woman clucked sadly. “I had the feeling he wouldn’t stay, and that he would break your heart when he left.”

Annalisa froze. What was Frau Pastor talking about?

“He was such a good man, and I could see you were beginning to care for him,” she continued, “but there was something about him that was different. He always seemed a bit restless.”

Did she think Carl had run off?

“Maybe it’s for the best, dearie.” Frau Pastor reached for her hand and patted it.

“But Carl hasn’t left yet.”

“Oh my!” Frau Pastor took a step back, holding on to her wide-brimmed hat as if her surprise at Annalisa’s words would blow it from her head.

“He’s inside on the bed.” Once the words were out, Annalisa realized how inappropriate her situation was—she, a widow, alone with an unmarried man lying on her bed.

Frau Pastor’s eyebrows shot up, this time nearly knocking her hat off.

“He’s sick,” Annalisa rushed to explain, “with typhoid fever.”

“Oh, dearie . . .”

“I was so busy trying to help him that I forgot to put up the white flag.”

“I suppose it’s too late to attempt to move him somewhere else, isn’t it?”

“Ja.” Even if they could move him, who else would want to take care of him and risk the exposure?

Frau Pastor’s expression spoke of the gravity of the situation. “I don’t want your reputation as a godly young woman to be compromised.”

“When he’s well enough to be moved, I’ll try to take him to Vater’s.”

If he lived . . .



But neither of them said the words.

“I saw your father in the field on the way here. He said your mother is busy taking care of Eleanor and Uri, who are both very sick. I don’t think she could handle Carl too.”

Annalisa nodded and tried to swallow the worry that rose swiftly at the thought of her brother and sister lying ill.

Gretchen came skipping out of the barn with Snowdrop on her heels. “Guten tag, Frau Pastor.”

Annalisa had made Gretchen play outside in the yard for the afternoon, wanting to honor Carl’s wish to keep her safe, even though the seclusion wouldn’t do much good at this point. She’d been able to watch her daughter while still tending to Carl, but it hadn’t been easy.

“I’ll take Gretchen home with me,” Frau Pastor said as if reading Annalisa’s thoughts. “Even though she’s been exposed, I’ll take care of her. You’ll have all you can handle trying to save Carl and manage the farm by yourself.”

Annalisa knew she ought to protest. But if there was even the slightest chance she could spare Gretchen the illness, she had no choice but to send her away.

“Besides, Herr Pastor and I would enjoy having a little girl stay with us since our own grandbabies are all so far away.”