Chapter Eight
Christina stayed on Johan’s mind long after she left. Her heroics seemed out of character with the giggly, shallow woman that he had perceived her to be. Perhaps there was more there than he had realized. Or perhaps she had done something out of character. Either way, he was unaccustomed to having a woman stay on his mind. It wasn’t that he didn’t think of women—they were lovely creatures, no doubt—but he never focused on any one of them for too long. He had no desire to settle down with one, so he had no need to keep one on his mind.
Johan noticed that he was rubbing his temples. He closed his eyes and sighed.
“Uncle Johan.” Fritz tugged on his elbow. “Do you have a headache?”
Johan’s eyes reopened. Did he have a headache? Or was he just trying to rub out all thoughts of Christina Dresser? Johan sighed again. “I don’t know.”
“How can you not know if you have a headache?”
“I don’t know.”
“You already said that.”
Johan rubbed his temples harder. “I guess.” He closed his eyes again. “Does it matter?”
“I should think so.”
“You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“You and Papa are always saying that.”
Johan grunted and leaned forward to stir the campfire. A shower of sparks shot upward as he stoked the charred logs. The sight reminded him of the fire that Christina had put out, which reminded him that she had saved his seed crop, which reminded him that he was in her debt. In her debt! What an odd thought. He was not a man who allowed himself such emotional entanglements. He had thanked her and that ought to be enough. Johan frowned and stoked the fire again. He had thanked her, hadn’t he? Dash it all, he couldn’t remember. He owed her that much, at least. In truth, he owed her much more . . . but acknowledging that could lead to feelings, and feelings could lead to a world of trouble. Best to keep things brief and businesslike between them. Otherwise, he could find himself lawfully wed with a family to feed by the next harvest.
Not that he had developed feelings for Christina Dresser. Not at all. She simply . . . intrigued him. That was all. He nodded to himself, set down the poker, and leaned back into his hands. He was quite safe—for now, anyway.
“Uncle Johan.”
Johan had forgotten Fritz. He cleared his throat. “Ja?”
“We were talking.”
“Right.”
“Why are you so distracted? Is it the headache?”
“What headache?”
“The one you said didn’t matter.”
“Oh. Right.” Johan rubbed his temples again. “That one.” He did not tell his nephew that it was, in fact, an intriguing young lady causing his discomfort.
“You look cross.” Fritz frowned and sat down on the log beside his uncle.
“Do I?”
“Ja.” Fritz inched closer and stared up at Johan with wide, concerned eyes. “Is it because Franz and I failed at the job you gave us?”
“Failed?”
Fritz nodded. His eyes stayed big and solemn.
“Oh, I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“Why don’t you tell me what happened? Then I’ll tell you what I think.”
Fritz poked out his bottom lip. “It was Franz’s fault.”
Johan raised an eyebrow and stared down at Fritz.
“All right. It was both our faults. But he saw the fox first.”
“A fox, was it?” He had suspected the boys had been distracted by something.
“As big as a wolf, it was!” Fritz spread his arms apart. “You should have seen it!”
“Ah. I see.”
“No, you didn’t. That’s the problem. If you had seen it, you would understand why we forgot our job.”
Johan tried very hard not to smile.
“We only chased it for a moment. And when we turned around, the leaves in the forest were smoldering. Then smoke filled the clearing, and you and Papa ran and got us.”
“I understand. It isn’t easy for a boy to keep his focus on his job. But do you understand how important it is to try your best?”
Fritz looked down. “Ja.” He began to pick at the bark on the log beneath him.
“Thanks be to der Herr the leaves were damp. But they might not have been. Let this be a lesson to you for next time. You must always keep your focus.” Johan knew he’d do well to keep his own advice. He reminded himself to keep his focus on what mattered—building a new life and enjoying the adventure of a new world. Not getting entangled with eligible young ladies ready to snare him in matrimonial monotony.
Fritz perked up. “Next time?”
“Ja. Of course.”
“But, I thought . . .” Fritz’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t think you would trust us again.”
“Oh, I think the only thing to do is to put you back on the job. How else will you learn to do it right? Life is about learning lessons—not being defeated by them.”
“Really?” A smile transformed Fritz’s face.
“Really.” Johan returned the smile and tousled his nephew’s hair.
The boy leapt to his feet and galloped toward the forest.
“Where are you going?”
“To find that fox!”
Johan smiled and shook his head. To be a child again! If only life could be so simple and straightforward now. Johan stared into the campfire and rubbed his chin. In all honesty, life was pretty simple and straightforward. He had everything that mattered right here, in this camp, and years of work ahead of him clearing the land and building a farm. There was no need to complicate anything. No need at all. Especially with women who fancied themselves heroes and intruded into one’s mind at the most inconvenient times.
Johan yawned and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He had not realized how tired he felt until now. They could have lost everything today. The thought weighed heavily on his mind. Worse, one of the boys could have been hurt. Christina could have been hurt.
Dash it all! There he went again, thinking of her. Johan scowled. He needed to get up and put on the corncakes for supper. He needed to clean the Jaeger rifle and sharpen his ax before the morrow. Johan’s scowl deepened. What he really needed to do was thank Christina. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. He would call on her at first light, give a quick thanks, and be on his way. That should relieve him of his debt. He would take care to maintain his distance and not to dillydally.
* * *
Johan’s resolve against dillydallying evaporated as soon as he stepped through Christina’s threshold the next morning. The savory scent of an apple and meat pie rose to meet him in a most welcome greeting.
“Oh!” Christina leapt up from the hearth when Hilda opened the door. Her cheeks matched the color of the coals that covered the Dutch oven. “I didn’t expect to see you here . . . now . . .” She smoothed her prayer kappe and brushed ash from her white linen apron. He had to admit that the flustered look on her face was simply adorable.
“Forgive the intrusion.”
“Not at all.” Christina beamed. “You must stay for breakfast.”
“I couldn’t—”
“You must. I’ve just made a pie with dried apples and currants and rabbit. We can’t possibly eat it all. What a crime it would be to let any go to waste. Besides, it’s the last of the currants, and who knows when we will have any again?”
Johan breathed in the rich, warm flavors of salted meat, tart apples, and juicy, plump currants. It would indeed be a crime. Savory-sweet pies were his favorite. Besides, the sisters’ cabin felt so snug and cozy that he didn’t want to leave. A fire crackled in the hearth and cast dancing shadows across the rough-hewn log walls. Bright, cheerful quilts lay folded in the corner, where the sisters’ sleeping pallets had been neatly stacked for the day. The dirt floor looked freshly swept and the scent of pine and earth mingled with the wood smoke and roasting meat. Everything felt pleasant and right. Resistance was futile.
“Thank you. It is most appreciated.” Johan’s eyes twinkled as his lips curled into a half smile. “Although it might be injurious to my health. I am not sure you can be trusted at the hearth. We might find ourselves enveloped in smoke for a third time.”
Christina laughed and motioned to the bench beside the hand-carved table. “Be good or you’ll go home with an empty belly.”
That was enough warning to quiet Johan. He did not want to push his luck too far. He sat and watched Christina rake the coals off the top of the Dutch oven. She hummed a tune to herself as she lifted the heavy metal lid and a wave of steam billowed into the cabin.
A man could get used to this. Especially after months of corncakes, salt pork, and limited company. Oh, Wilhelm was a fine man, but conversation with him always focused on hunting, trapping, and the likelihood of a good crop. Conversation with a lovely young woman with a lively wit was quite different. Not that he noticed.
Johan frowned and promised himself that he would only stay long enough to wolf down breakfast. It was the polite thing to do, after all. No woman would want to see her pie go to waste. Johan let out a happy, satisfied sigh as he watched Christina at the hearth. He felt warm and contented.
No, dash it all! This was exactly the trap he was trying to avoid. The trap tightened a little more when Christina filled his plate and settled beside him to stare into his eyes with dreamy admiration. He tried his best to disengage himself from conversation during the meal, but Christina kept asking him questions as if she were genuinely interested in his life and well-being. For pity’s sake, did she have to be so considerate on top of being a good cook and a lovely girl?
Johan worked harder to remain aloof. Christina made it easier for him to do so when she mentioned Wilhelm. She set down her pewter spoon and leaned forward. The weak spring sun shone through the open window and highlighted her rosy cheeks and the golden curls that showed beneath her prayer kappe. “And how is Wilhelm faring?” she asked with a furrowed brow and concerned voice.
Johan felt his stomach tighten. Not that again.
“We’ve been frightfully worried. Haven’t we, Hilda?”
“About Wilhelm?”
“Naturally.” Christina glanced at Hilda.
Hilda didn’t respond.
“Haven’t we, Hilda?”
Hilda did not look concerned. But then she jumped in her seat and glared at Christina. “Don’t kick me.”
Christina gasped. “Kick you?” Her cheeks went from rosy to a fiery crimson. “Oh! Was that you?” She cleared her throat. “Apologies, sister mine. The room is crowded. The table was built for two, not three.”
Hilda raised her eyebrows. She did not look amused. “Indeed. I would say three can be a crowd.”
“Oh!” Christina fumbled with her spoon and it fell from her hands to clatter against the tin plate. “Whatever has gotten into me?”
“I can’t imagine,” Hilda answered in a deadpan voice.
It seemed plain to Johan that Christina wanted Hilda to back Christina’s pursuit of Wilhelm. Hilda wasn’t having it, and Johan could not blame her. Meddling nonsense! He pushed his empty plate away in a quick gesture. The tin made a louder noise than he had intended as it scraped the wood surface. He had not meant to signal his annoyance, but dash it all, how much could a man take? Christina was such a lovely girl—a perfect girl really. All he wanted was for her to feel the same about him.
A perfect girl! The same about him! Had he really thought those things? This was going from bad to worse. Not only did Christina prefer Wilhelm, but Johan was struggling to deny his feelings. How could he pretend he had no affection for her as she fixed those adoring, sparkling eyes on his?
Johan shot up from the bench. “I really must be going.” “Oh.” Christina looked down. She cleared her throat and hesitated, then looked back up at him with wide doe eyes. “Must you?” She gave her best smile and added a soft little giggle. “You’ve only just arrived.”
Now she acted as though she wanted his company. It was so dashed confusing! Perhaps she only wanted to pry out more information about Wilhelm. Regardless, Johan knew he had best be on his way. No good could come of this. None at all.
* * *
Christina watched Johan dash out of the cabin as tears stung her eyes. Where had she gone wrong?
“Well, he could not get out of here quickly enough,” Hilda said in a flat voice.
Christina threw up her hands. “And no wonder—you accused me of kicking you under the table! What must he think of that?”
“That you shouldn’t kick your sister under the table?”
“No! That I am—” Christina wanted to say, That I am conspiring to set you up with Wilhelm! The words almost flew from her mouth before she could stop them. But she clamped her lips shut and stared at Hilda with narrowed eyes. The morning was going from bad to worse.
Hilda cracked her knuckles and leaned back to rest her shoulders against the cabin wall. “That you are what?”
Christina swallowed. How could she dig herself out of this pit? It was vital that Hilda not suspect her plan. If Hilda suspected, she would refuse to cooperate and make some excuse about how she was too old to find love. Christina had to protect Hilda from herself.
“That you are what?” Hilda repeated.
Christina opened her mouth, but no words came out. She had never been quick on her feet.
“It’s all right.” Hilda leaned forward and patted Christina on the shoulder. “I know you feel affection for Wilhelm.”
“What? No! We’ve been over this—”
“Ja, and we will keep going over it until you admit the truth. There’s no need for secrets with me. I know what it is to fall in love and never . . .” Hilda straightened and cleared her throat. “Never mind.” She glanced out the open window. “My goodness, is it that late in the morning?” She stood, brushed off her skirts, and began to clear the table.
“No. You must understand I have no interest in Wilhelm.” Christina stared at her sister and debated coming clean about her entire plan. If Hilda thought Christina held affection for Wilhelm, Hilda might not consider Wilhelm for herself. On the other hand, if Hilda felt pressured into a match, she would dismiss the possibility without giving Wilhelm a chance.
The situation was getting too complicated.
Hilda hesitated as she hovered beside her sister, the stack of pewter plates balanced in her hands. “Christina. I only tell you for your own good. I don’t want to embarrass you, but it’s my job to make sure you do well in life. I’m the closest thing to a mother you have, so . . .”
“Oh, Hilda.”
“No. Not ‘oh, Hilda.’ You know I’m right.”
Christina could feel the frustration burning through her skin. She loosened her neck cloth with fumbling fingers.
“And the truth is, you are embarrassing yourself. You mustn’t throw yourself at a man in such a way. You must find something else to talk about, especially to poor Johan.” Hilda picked up the pie tin and balanced it atop the plates. “It’s just too forward. You don’t want to be seen as a wayward woman, do you?”
This was too much. Christina squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep, deep breath. She let the air out slowly. Don’t give in, she repeated to herself. Hilda will see soon enough. Just hold out a little longer—even if she does think you are throwing yourself at a man. Christina pushed her frustration into the pit of her stomach. She opened her eyes and forced a smile. “Fret not, sister mine. This situation will resolve itself soon enough, I am sure. And, in good time, you will see your concerns are unfounded.”
Hilda shrugged and carried the dishes to the hearth to rinse in the water bucket. “You always have let your emotions get the best of you. But you always mean well. That’s why everyone loves you.”
Emotions getting the best of her! Ha! If only Hilda knew.
“But, as you say, I’m sure it will be resolved in the end.” Hilda kneeled on the dirt floor in front of the hearth, then glanced up with a knowing grin. “And my guess is that it will end with wedding bells.”
Christina smiled. That was a statement with which she agreed. “More than you know, sister mine.” Double wedding bells for a double wedding, if all went well.
Hilda gave her a quizzical look before turning back to the dishwater. She scrubbed a pewter spoon for a moment, then paused. “You do know I love you, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“I don’t say it enough, I suppose.” She resumed her scrubbing, harder this time. “It isn’t my way. Not that that excuses it.” She set the spoon atop a clean cloth laid over the stone hearth. “You are a treasure. I just worry. . . .” She frowned and dried her hands on her apron. “You can take to such fanciful notions sometimes. Some things just aren’t meant to be.”
“Like falling in love with the perfect man and living happily ever after?” Christina asked.
Hilda hesitated. “Well . . . yes. Like that.”
“Oh, Hilda. It’s you who has fanciful notions. I shiver to think that you have no faith in love. What a dreary world you inhabit.”
“Reality is not dreary. It is simply . . . realistic.”
Christina rolled her eyes. “You tire me so. But fear not, sister mine, your day will come!” Christina skipped across the room, leaned over, and planted a firm kiss atop Hilda’s head.
Hilda frowned and straightened her kappe. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“Oh, yes, I have plenty of work to do.” If only Hilda knew. Christina smiled to herself as the next step in her plan began to form within her mind.