The man was making her crazy. For a full week, Shane had followed Elsa around like a veritable shadow, albeit a talking, teasing, cajoling shadow! Elsa was at her wits’ end.
She sighed as she slipped the blue calico dress over her head in preparation for the midweek prayer meeting. Shane hadn’t gone last week, nor had he attended the Sunday service. Then, as now, she looked forward to some reprieve from Shane’s company. However, if she were completely honest with herself, she’d have to confess to enjoying the attention somewhat. He paid her compliments, and he offered to help with her chores. They had interesting conversations about their relatives in Germany, and on that account, she and Shane had much in common. They’d grown friendly toward one another, the very thing that disturbed her greatly. Shane Gerhard possessed a charming manner that affected Elsa more than she cared to admit. Furthermore, she found herself wishing Henry would act more like him.
Then, of course, there was the perplexing question as to why Shane behaved as though he were romantically interested in her, and at times, Elsa couldn’t discern his intentions. Were they merely friends? Just acquaintances? She did suspect he was trifling with her out of sheer boredom, and she prayed without ceasing that Papa would find those receipts and send Shane back to St. Louis. Her heart couldn’t endure much more of that man’s flirtations. Unfortunately, Papa liked him and wasn’t in any hurry to see him go. Still, her father spent his every waking hour searching for the vouchers from Georg Gerhard, and many times, Shane aided in the hunt.
“Acht!” Elsa muttered in frustration as she brushed out her dark-brown hair. If only her mother were alive and could advise her … or if Heidi were home. Oh, what was the use of wishing things were different? Wishing couldn’t change her situation. She still had Papa to care for and the boardinghouse to manage. Soon, she could add Henry to the list.
Giving herself a mental shake, Elsa considered her appearance in the oblong, mahogany-framed looking glass. She decided to wear her hair down tonight, save for the combs she wore on either side of her head, above her ears. She wanted to look her best for Henry … or was it a reaction from Shane that she secretly coveted?
“You must stop thinking like that,” she scolded her reflection. “It’s the Lord’s opinion you need to care about, and He sees the heart, not physical beauty. And a good thing, too!”
Elsa considered her full figure. Even in Mama’s best dress, she didn’t feel the least bit pretty. She was tall and big-boned, hardly a delicate, feminine little thing, and surely not the type of woman Shane Gerhard would be drawn to. And even if she were, he’d said he wasn’t a marrying man, and if it came down to the contract being fulfilled, he would divorce her once he got his money. Elsa couldn’t impress Shane if she tried. In fact, she couldn’t impress any man with her physical attributes … except for Henry, although she wasn’t certain that quality had initially attracted him either.
Elsa often wondered why Henry wanted to marry her. He never said he loved her, not even on the afternoon he proposed. And he never once tried to kiss her, much to Elsa’s disappointment. But she sensed he needed her, just like Papa. Poor Henry, chronically ill; however, Elsa had two very capable hands, not to mention a strong back. Perhaps she’d even be the one who would nurse Henry back to health, and maybe God would bless the two of them with children.
She allowed her gaze to wander around the small bedroom she’d once shared with Heidi. Soon she would share it with Henry. On the double bed lay a multi-colored patchwork quilt Elsa and her sister had made two years ago at Mrs. Tidewell’s sewing circle. In one corner, there stood a wooden wardrobe Papa had built, and beside it was a small chest of drawers. Elsa had inherited her mother’s looking glass, which she’d placed near the tiny dressing area, and she never ceased to marvel at the fact it had survived the trip from Germany.
In a month’s time, I’ll share this room with my husband, Elsa mused. She prayed that she would be a good wife.
On that thought, Elsa left the bedroom and walked down the narrow hallway toward the kitchen. Dinner had been served at five o’clock sharp this evening to afford her ample time to prepare for the midweek church service. When she’d left the dining room to change clothes over thirty minutes ago, there were several guests still lingering over their coffee, including Papa, Shane, Henry, and Doc. However, it sounded quiet, as though all the men had gone.
Would Papa have left for church without me? Elsa wondered.
Making her way through the kitchen, she peered into the dining room, seeing Shane and Henry. Shane was gazing out the front window, one hand in the pocket of his dark trousers, and Henry was writing on a ledger of some sort at a table.
Elsa took two steps into the room. “Did Papa leave?”
Both men glanced her way, and she watched as Shane’s expression brightened with interest. From the sparkle in his hazel eyes to the wry grin curving his mouth, Elsa could tell he appreciated that she’d fussed with her toilette this evening. His next words confirmed it.
“Well, now, don’t you look pretty.”
“Thank you,” Elsa said, feeling herself blush. However, she inwardly acknowledged it was the exact response she had hoped for. Furthermore, she felt amazed she’d accomplished such a feat.
“As for your papa,” Shane added, “he went on ahead to church with Doc.”
“Oh …” She looked at Henry, disappointed that his countenance registered nothing but a pained frown. “Well, we can walk together.”
“I’m not feeling well enough to sit through church tonight,” he complained. “I think I’ll go home.” He tossed a glance at Shane. “Mr. Gerhard offered to escort you.”
Elsa’s heart sank. “But, Henry, it isn’t right … that is, I’m your fiancé. Shane shouldn’t have to escort me.”
“He offered. It would be rude to refuse him.” Henry cleared his throat and winced, clutching his neck with pale, lanky fingers. “When I get home, I’ll make myself some of that tea Doc gave me.”
He stood, picked up his ledger, then strode toward the front door of the boardinghouse. No hug or kiss good-bye, no affection whatsoever, not even in his expression. He never once said she looked pretty, or gave her some minuscule promise to hang onto. And he never gave it a second thought that she’d be in another man’s company this evening. To sum it up, Henry seemed not to care.
Shane walked slowly toward her, and Elsa blinked back her tears of dejection. She looked his way, and Shane narrowed his gaze.
“You getting the picture here?” he asked, pointing to his temple. “Is it beginning to sink in?”
Elsa swallowed convulsively. “What are you talking about?”
“Mr. Quinsy.” Shane shook his head. “He either doesn’t love you, Elsa, or he’s the biggest fool that ever walked the earth.”
“Don’t say that. Henry’s not a fool. He’s just ill.”
“More like self-absorbed. Why, I’d have to be dead or dying before I turned my fiancé over to another man’s care—especially if he was a man like me.”
Elsa had to grin at the irony of his statement.
“There, that’s better,” he said with a charming smile. “You’re far too lovely to be frowning so hard.” He held his arm out to her. “Shall we go?”
On a sigh of resignation, Elsa stepped forward and slipped her hand around his elbow. “You’re really coming to church?”
Shane shrugged his broad shoulders. “Sure. I reckon it can’t hurt.”
Arm in arm, they walked down Main Street, heading for Birch Street. As they passed the shipping office, Elsa looked for any signs of Henry, but saw none.
“Who’s got the fancy house over yonder?”
At the corner, Elsa glanced to her right. “The one painted dove gray? That’s the Montclairs’ home.”
“Seems out of place, what with all the log buildings around here except for the bank and the church.”
“Yes, I suppose it does. But Mr. Montclair is one of Hickory Corners’ founders, and perhaps for that reason he maintains a lovely home, even though he and his wife are rarely there to enjoy it.”
“So the house is a monument of sorts.”
“Something like that.”
Despite Shane’s attempt at a light conversation, Elsa felt heavy-hearted. She gazed up at him, and in spite of herself, couldn’t help admiring his predominant jawline covered with a hint of a shadow. “Do you really think Henry doesn’t love me?”
Shane looked at her, and Elsa saw the sympathy in his eyes. “He’s a fool.”
Elsa shook her head in disagreement. “He doesn’t love me.”
“Well, look at it this way—at least you found that out before you married him.”
“But I thought I could make him love me by taking care of him.”
“Darlin’, he is supposed to take care of you.”
“But—”
“All right, all right,” he said as if to forestall any debate, “I imagine marriage is something of a give-and-take arrangement. Wives take care of their husbands by cooking and cleaning and such. Except in your case, life with Mr. Quinsy would be you doing all the giving, and you’d end up one unhappy woman.”
Elsa thought of several retorts; however, the truth of Shane’s words kept her from verbalizing any of them.
Reaching the church, Elsa and Shane climbed the steps and met a small group of friends chatting in the tiny vestibule. She introduced Shane, and hearing he was from St. Louis, several of the older Stahl boys—no longer “boys” but married men now—engaged him in conversation.
Elsa had to grin. The husky, dark-haired Stahls would keep Shane occupied for awhile. They hailed from a large family whose farm resided on the acreage behind the church.
“Where’s Henry?” Betsy Larkin asked.
“He’s ill tonight.”
“The poor man. Is it his throat again?”
Elsa nodded.
“Are you and Mr. Gerhard getting along better now?” Samantha Thomasohn wanted to know, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “It would seem the two of you are quite friendly.”
Elsa didn’t feel up to the teasing or giving explanations, and merely nodded.
“Does Henry know you and Mr. Gerhard are ‘quite friendly’?” Clara Bucey asked, looking alarmed.
“Yes, and it’s all his fault, too!”
The girls were wide-eyed with curiosity.
Elsa glanced around the small group. “You’re my best friends. You’ve known me practically my whole life.”
They nodded.
“Then you’ll understand when I say I’m having serious doubts about marrying Henry. Of course, I haven’t breathed a word of this to anyone else yet.”
“We’d never repeat a thing,” Samantha promised, and Elsa knew it was true. Her friends were not gossips. When they heard of a trial or tragedy, they prayed.
“Mantha and I warned you ’bout Henry,” Betsy said earnestly. “We just had a funny feeling concerning the two of you.” She suddenly grinned impishly. “Now, you and Mr. Gerhard, on the other hand—”
“Oh, hush,” Elsa said, cutting off further reply.
A man cleared his throat, and Elsa turned to see one of the Stahl brothers motioning them into the sanctuary. Bidding her friends a hasty farewell, Elsa walked up the aisle. Shane followed and joined her and Papa in the fourth pew from the front—their usual place.
“I am pleased dat you came tonight,” Papa said, leaning toward their guest.
Shane shrugged. “Haven’t seen any bolts from out of the blue yet. I reckon that’s a good sign.”
Elsa smiled at the quip, then sent up a silent prayer that Pastor Tidewell’s message tonight would somehow touch Shane in a special way.