This was a girl I would have done anything for. I was in the presence of one of the gentlest, sweetest, most tender lasses I’d ever seen. Her golden hair fell about her shoulders. Blue eyes, the color of cornflowers, were framed by white-blond eyelashes. I was trying not to drown in that field of cornflowers. She had fair skin and a delicate nose with gracefully sculpted nostrils. I didn’t ask again whether I could help her. I would have moved mountains for her. I gestured for the shovel, and she handed it to me as if she had stolen it and was giving it up. I paused long enough to see a blush of shyness bloom over her cheeks, and my heart turned to putty.
I shoveled to the stable door. It did not take me but a few minutes, but in that time, I made the decision to come back for her.
When I leaned the shovel against the wall, I could barely look at her, so much did it hurt.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
Her eyes skittered about.
I made a coaxing sound, and her gaze landed on me, held steady. It took my breath away.
“Cecilia,” she whispered.
“Fritz. Fritz Hanny. From Reschen.” I left it at that. I was nervous, and Marius was shouting for me to come.
I hiked back up and turned to see her one more time but she was gone. Had I imagined her?
“Who is that?” I asked Marius.
“Leave it be. She can’t be more than fourteen years old.”
His unwillingness to discuss her kept me mum about my plans for her.
I made an excuse to go back to Nauders within the week. This time, the snow was melting from the constant Föhn, and it was dangerous to ski on. Firnschnee was what I had—snow that melted into corn-sized balls, froze overnight, and was treacherous as it slowly melted again. But hiking to Nauders would not bring me past Cecilia’s farm, so I skied.
In the valley, the snow was almost gone, leaving rivulets streaming down the dirt road and pooling in the ditches. Something told me not to venture down the drive. I waited to see whether anyone would come out. When the door to the shed next to the stable opened, a stocky man stepped out—cap askew—with dark hair plastered against his brow. He did not even glance my way. Behind him came the girl. Cecilia. Unlike the man, she spotted me. Even from where I was standing at the top of the drive, I saw her shoulders fall back before she hurried after the man and disappeared into the house.
Something told me to keep walking, but I lingered at the top of the ridge, making it seem as if I were adjusting my skis. She came out a few minutes later, carrying a basket, and tossed feed to the chickens. She glanced up at me, then jerked her head as if to say, “Go on.”
To the right of the house was a field with a hay shed and a deep creek cutting through it. I pointed in that direction and headed down the road. Where nobody could notice except Cecilia, I cut through the field, and when I reached the shed, I waited behind it because there was nothing else I would have been rather doing.
And she came. Like a mouse. And when she turned the corner to find me, she looked surprised.
“Cecilia, you’re very brave,” I said. “I’m glad to see you.”
She looked down at her faded brown clogs.
“Who is that man at the farm?” I was afraid of the answer.
She gazed at me with those stunning blue eyes. “Papa,” she whispered. “I can’t be here. I have to go back to the house.”
I was terrified she would bolt, so I grabbed her hand, and she jerked back with a small cry. I held on tighter.
“I’m sorry,” I said and released the pressure just enough to assure her I meant to eventually let go.
She stilled, the way animals did when they decided it was better to do so.
“I won’t hurt you, Cecilia. I’m not here to hurt you. Please.”
“I have to go.” It was a plea and something about it made me want to hang on harder.
“Can I come again? Please let me come again,” I begged.
She shook her head at first, stared at my hand grasping hers. I let go and it dropped to her side. When she nodded, just the slightest twitch of a yes, my heart flipped.
Cecilia was not the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden. Our valley and mountain lives were anything but a paradise. No, Cecilia was the Garden of Eden, and now that I had found it, I did not want to leave. Her father might have guarded the gate, but I would find a way to break in.
“I’ll be here tomorrow.” I would spend the night at Marius’s. “Where can I meet you?”
Hesitating, she turned and pointed in the direction of the woods along the field.
“There. Wait for me there. Papa sleeps after his midday meal. I’ll come then.” Then she dashed around the side of the hut and ran back to the house.
Tomorrow. It could not come soon enough.
❖
I watched her coming through the field, and I was reminded of rabbits being hunted. She stood still, half facing the woods, one side of her face tilted back towards the house. After a moment, she continued in my direction.
She was shy when she found me. I was prepared. A moss-covered path led through the forest, gnarled roots and shrubs catching on the hem of her skirt. I told her about the inn and how Max Junior and I owned it, though we really did not yet. We would though. I told her about the Herr Doktor and how Frederick would take over the practice, and she looked at me askance.
“You look like you don’t believe me,” I said.
“I do. Of course I do. It’s just that… Well, your family... It’s quite well to-do.” With the little hope that shined through her uncertainty, I knew Cecilia would be mine. She did not pull back when I took her hand this time. Her palm was cool, and I put it to my lips, sinking into that field of cornflower blue. I drew her in a little closer and, when she resisted, I whispered again how she should not fear me.
At the same time, a thought slid into my mind. Oh, but she does, it whispered.
“I would never do anything to dishonor her!” We both startled at the vehemence in my tone and when Cecilia stared wide-eyed at me, tugging from my embrace, I dropped my voice to a hoarse whisper. “You,” I said. “I meant you. I’d never dishonor you.”
I let her go, defeated. She turned sideways and looked as if she were measuring the distance between us and the farm. What had gotten into me? “Cecilia?”
She turned back to me but did not look up. “You’re scaring me.”
“No,” I whispered, pained. “I’m sorry. I just… I was just taken by you.” Then, hopefully, “You smell like flowers and milk.”
Just the slightest smile.
I tipped my head and tried to get her to meet my look, to see that I was smiling, too.
Her eyes darted to mine then finally rested on them. Her lips parted. “That’s nice. That’s the nicest—“
“Would you meet me again, tomorrow?”
Again, measuring. This time, me. She nodded and then was gone.
The second day, it was easier to coax Cecilia out of the house and into the woods with me. We were more relaxed with one another. Though Marius was impatient and wanted me back home selling his tobacco, I could not leave. On the fourth day, dizzy with anticipation, I told her my plans.
“I will marry you, Cecilia.” I turned her hand upwards and kissed the inside of her wrist. I could feel her pulse racing beneath my lips, as if her blood had just freed itself. I felt a rush of extreme satisfaction. She made a startled sound in the back of her throat, and I could not—even if I had wanted to—stop. I moved my lips up her arm, then placed her hand around my waist and pulled her in. She stiffened against me, and I lifted her chin.
“May I kiss you, Cecilia?”
She shook her head, and I had to step away.
“Why not? Do you have a beau?”
Again, she shook her head.
“Am I not good enough for you?” I swallowed hard to keep my temper under control.
“That’s…not it,” she stuttered. “My…my father…”
I spun her back to the path and pulled her in the direction of the farm.
“I’ll speak to your father,” I shouted over my shoulder. “There is nothing he can do against our wanting to be together.”
Cecilia protested, trying to yank her hand out of mine, but I held on. I only stopped when she called my name over and over, panic rising in her voice.
“Fritz! Fritz! Don’t do it,” she panted. “He’ll kill you.”
“I own an inn, Cecilia.” I faced her. I was also making a small fortune with my dealings with Marius. Money could buy anything, especially—by the looks of him—Cecilia’s father. “He should be grateful to marry you off to someone like me! From a family like mine! What other choices are there, Cecilia? Huh?”
Her lips trembled. I grabbed her by the waist and kissed her, felt her sweet mouth on mine, and flicked my tongue over it. She moaned and pulled, but I held her close and kissed her once more.
Any longer and I would no longer be responsible for my undoing. I released her. “It’s settled then. I am not leaving Nauders until you are my bride.”
When we stepped out of the woods and walked across the field, I did not listen to Cecilia’s protests. In the barnyard, her father was outside, shoeing a scrawny horse with patches of sores on its rump. When he looked up, I saw the red-rimmed eyes, the drawn face, the meanness and the disgust that seemed to make him larger as he stared at us coming down the drive. I steeled myself for a fight. Cecilia had been right. This was not going to be easy, but I had a good many advantages. If I could start the discussion, I was certain it would go in my favor.
“Fritz Hanny, sir,” I said, stretching out my hand.
He’d stood up by that time and was twisting the horseshoe hammer in his grip as if he was considering striking it over my head. He did not take my offered hand. Instead, he looked askance and spit. I dropped my arm to my side.
“I told you to stay in the house.”
He was addressing Cecilia and I moved to block her from him. He cocked his head, eyeing me up and down.
“What is this?” He sneered at me. “Rutting season and you sniffing around my girl? He do something to you?”
Cecilia whimpered, shook her head.
“Sir, I have no intention of dishonoring your daughter.”
“Dishonoring my daughter,” he said slowly. “Dishonoring. Very fancy talk for a fancy pretty boy.” He took a step at me. “Boo!”
I flinched but stood my ground. “I’m Fritz Hanny, sir. Dr Hanny’s son. Of Reschen.”
He raised his brows in mock surprise. “The party boy? The one claiming he owns his grandparents’ inn? I know you’re running with the Egger fellow. Cecilia, you come to me right here. Now!”
Cecilia slinked over to him, disappearing behind him like a shadow.
Her father raised his fist at me but did not strike. “Who do you think you are, Fritz Hanny? She’s just a girl! My girl.”
He came at me so quickly, I was slammed straight onto my back. The impact took the wind out of me. I watched from the ground as he stalked over to the freshly shoveled manure pile, took a bucket, and scooped it full. I started to scramble away but had barely made it onto all fours before the bucket came down over my head and a kick landed right between my legs. I yelped in pain, manure tumbling down my hair and shoulders.
“Horseshit, that’s what you are. Now get off my land before I have a mind to make you into fertilizer. Get!”
I fled. I fled over the field, avoided the town and fled over the pass. Only then did I stop only to clean myself off in a creek. As I stared at my stained face on the water’s surface, I vowed I would find a way to get back to Cecilia. I’d find a way to get rid of her father. How dare he? He, talking to me as if I were the last scum on earth!
Max Junior would help me. And Marius. And with that, I realized that it was Fasnacht, the Tuesday before Lent. Max Junior would make me pay for leaving him alone at the inn the entire carnival weekend.