Seconds later I found myself standing in a deluge of rain. I dashed to the cabin and was glad to find it still unlocked. Cold and clammy air encompassed me. I lit the lamp next to the recliner and patted my face with a hand towel. I set about hanging up my dresses in the first closet I’d ever had. I used the pegs on the wall for my aprons.
I glanced in the mirror above the bureau. Ach, my cap was drenched and flattened. I wondered how long I’d looked disheveled. In the dim light, my face appeared creased like that of a woman twice my age. Crow’s-feet at the corners of my eyes, crevices on my forehead. Vanity was a sin, I told myself, but my ghastly image made my throat shrink with sadness. If Jake ever came home for good and wasn’t married, he might turn away with distaste. Yet Beatrice had landed herself a husband. No doubt at a young age, when her skin was blemish-free and her temperament charming for his sake.
I pulled out my hairpins and tossed my dripping kapp on the showerhead in the bathroom. With a towel I blotted my soggy hair—a pitiful, tousled mess. Next, I removed the straight pins from my black apron’s waist, set them on the bureau on a small tray, and then hung up the apron and dress. I slipped on my nightgown, nestled into my fuzzy bathrobe, and found my slippers, glad I’d thought to bring them along.
I extracted my toothbrush from the suitcase. I hadn’t put away most of my belongings, but I shut the suitcase and set it against the wall. Fatigue enshrouded me, but I dug through the cardboard boxes. I found a battery-powered clock I didn’t recognize. Perhaps Marta had dropped one of hers in there for me—an unexpected act of kindness.
Raindrops pattering on the roof turned into a torrent of splatting. I hoped the roof was waterproof. A flash of blue-white light filled the room, followed by a blast of thunder. I was used to storms, but I recoiled, feeling exposed and frightened. I could do nothing about it except start a fire in the hearth, see what Mamm had prepared for me to eat, and enjoy my supper—alone.
Split wood, kindling, and crumpled newspaper sat on the hearth, and a box of matches perched on the mantel. Someone had been thoughtful. In no time, my fire sprang to life, hungry flames licking the kindling. The fire’s crackling sound brought me a feeling of safety and peace until I heard a scratching at the front door. What in the world?
I cracked open the door to find the owners’ scruffy terrier, her coat drenched, looking up at me with hopeful eyes.
“Shoo. Go home. What in the world do you want? Certainly not to come in and dirty the floor.” But her wagging tail and whining tugged at my sense of pity.
I closed the door, hurried to the kitchen counter, and returned with a few paper towels. When I opened the door, I hoped the pooch had retreated to the main house, but she was still there.
“How could Beatrice leave you outside on such a miserable night?”
Blobs of rain bounced off the earth. Lightning shattered the sky. A deafening strike hit a tree close by, and the dog bolted into my cabin.
“Hey, hund, wait a minute.” I blotted the animal’s fur and paws. I dropped a cloth towel on the floor. “You sit on this,” I told her, and I was surprised when she obeyed. What had Beatrice called her? Minnie? I supposed that was an appropriate name.
“What would your owner say if she knew you were left out in the rain?” The pup gazed up at me as if she understood how off-kilter I felt.
Minutes later, I munched on a meat loaf sandwich on wheat bread as only Mamm could prepare. I plopped down on the small couch. Minnie sat at my feet sniffing the air, her ears pricked. I knew I shouldn’t be suckered in, but I broke off a corner and tossed it to her. She snagged the treat out of the air before it hit the floor.
As I glanced out the window, another flash of lightning slashed the sky, followed by bellowing thunder. The dog dropped to her stomach. Shivering, she nestled at my feet.
“I’m not letting you on this couch with me, so don’t get any ideas.”
The wind gained velocity, blasting against the cabin, making the windowpanes rattle and the timbers creak. I heard something on the roof and wondered if the shakes were flying off. Well, there was nothing I could do about it now unless I dared racing to the main house. No, I’d get soaked, and I suspected Beatrice would see it as an act of cowardice.
I recalled my bookshelf at home. “Why didn’t I bring something to read?”
Minnie cocked her head. I was asking a dog for advice? That was a first. I looked out the front window to see the porch light flicker off. The nursery lights and the streetlamps on the main road were snuffed like candles. I could see a dim light on the third floor of the main house. Beatrice must have had a battery-powered light fixture or a lantern.
I scanned the room and saw a Bible sitting on a shelf in the nightstand. It wasn’t the kind of reading I had in mind, but it might calm my racing thoughts. I’d never get to sleep with this raging storm even if my stomach was full. And what should I do with the dog? I guessed she would have to stay inside.
I shuffled into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Again, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and winced at my pathetic reflection. Illuminated by the battery-operated lamp, my hair looked drab and my features elongated. I’d shower in the morning and spend extra time combing and parting my hair. Thankfully, I’d brought several clean and pressed kapps.
I draped my Lone Star quilt from home over the bed. A perfect fit. Then I pulled back the sheet and blanket and snuggled inside my chilly cocoon. The mattress felt soft and squishy. I imagined the previous resident, Edna, had weighed quite a bit more than I did. She’d broken the springs in and left a few lumps. I propped the pillow against the headboard, all the while listening to the rain beating against the windows. A lightning strike shattered the air. Poor Beatrice. Should I go check on her? No. If she was on the third floor, she probably wouldn’t hear my knocking.
With the lantern on my nightstand, I opened the worn Bible somewhere in the middle and found it written in English. Our family Bible was in German. Not knowing where to start, I opened at the bookmark and read Psalm 4:8 aloud. “I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, LORD, only makest me dwell in safety.”
I’d never been a good sleeper, and, apparently, Edna suffered from insomnia too. But I felt my lids droop. I’d endured a long day.
Knuckles rapping on the door made me jerk. Had I thought to lock it? Minnie leaped to her feet and growled. She sniffed under the doorjamb and then barked.
“Who’s there?” My voice wobbled.
“Stephen Troyer. Are you okay? Is Minnie in there with you?”
Hating to leave the comfort of the bed, I jammed my feet into my slippers, plopped a scarf atop my head, and dove into my black coat. I cracked the door open.
“Sorry to bother you.” Stephen stepped inside and shut the door behind him as the wind whooshed into the small space. Minnie jumped on his leg. “There you are, you scamp. Beatrice was worried sick you’d run away.”
I was tempted to tell him the woman left the poor animal out in the pouring rain, but I held in my words.
“I bet you want your supper, don’t you, girl?” Stephen bent down to fluff Minnie’s furry head. “Although it looks like you’ve made yourself at home.”
I clutched the front of my coat together and buttoned it. “The poor little dog was frightened and wet. Next time I’ll leave her outside.”
“She’s a consummate beggar.”
“I gave her a little something.”
He scanned the cabin’s interior. “I knew you’d be all set here, but did you see that the main house and nursery have lost electrical power?”
“Yah, I’m used to living without electricity. But what about the café tomorrow?”
“The café alone has a generator that switches on the moment electricity goes off, so no worries in the morning. And a gas stove. I should have told you.”
“What about the tropical plants in the greenhouses?”
“We’ll light propane heaters if needed. Who knows? The electricity might come right back on tonight. But I doubt it.” He glanced out the window and sucked on his lower lip. “Beatrice called me from the house to warn me.”
I peered outside, but I couldn’t detect much. Just the silhouette of a woman standing in a third-floor window watching this cabin. Watching me entertain a man. Which she would no doubt report to whoever would listen.
“Is Beatrice all right?” I asked. “Should we check on her?” Not that I wanted to. Here I was with a man and the door shut, just what I told her I’d never do.
“I don’t think that’s necessary. She’s a tough old gal. Although in the past she was used to having a husband take care of her.” He grasped the doorknob. “Come on, Minnie. Let’s get you home.”
The dog flattened herself against the couch in front of the hearth.
“I don’t mind keeping her for the night if that’s okay.” I didn’t look forward to spending the night in solitude, but I’d never imagined myself wanting the company of a dog.
“Sure. She’s nice and dry, and the walk back to the house is muddy.”
When he opened the door, Minnie scrambled to her feet, darted outside, leaped off the porch, and raced to the main house.
Stephen chuckled. “She must still be hungry.” He took hold of the doorknob again as he stepped out into the darkness. “You should lock this door at night” were his parting words.