Chapter Nine
Eli had a lot to think about. Catrina had stood up for him. What a strange, uncomfortable moment, that had been. And yet . . . Eli had liked knowing that she cared. And she had cared. She had marched over and put Gertrud in her place. Well, not marched. Glided was more like it. She had slid across the room with that regal grace and impossible calm. And then she had spoken in such a respectful, careful manner that no one could accuse her of stirring up strife.
A treasure. She was a treasure.
But what to do about it. Did he dare to hope? Dare to dream? She had defended him, after all.
Eli stoked the campfire and stared into the orange sparks.
“Going to gaze into the fire all day, brother mine?”
Eli sighed and scraped his corn cake crumbs into the flames. “Good morning to you too, Gertie.”
Gertrud frowned, then dropped onto the log that Eli had rolled beside the fire as a makeshift bench. “I’m sorry.” Her stout, tanned fingers picked at an invisible spot on her apron. “You have to understand.”
Eli did not move his gaze from the fire. “Understand what?”
“My concern for you.”
“That is what this is?”
“Ja. Of course. What else could it be?”
Eli raised an eyebrow, but did not turn to look at his sister. “I don’t know . . .” He rubbed his neck with the back of his hand. “. . . Jealousy.”
Gertrud’s eyes widened into fiery saucers. “Jealous! Ha! You have no idea, baby brother. No idea.”
Eli wondered if he should ask. He hesitated, poked at the fire again with a stick. A burnt log turned over and released an explosion of sparks into the morning air. “No idea of what?”
“That you are playing with fire.”
“I am a grown man, Gertie. I think I can stoke a campfire.”
“Ach. You know what I mean.”
Eli did not want to engage her. He wanted to settle back into his cozy, dreamy thoughts of Catrina, then head across the field and see her smiling face as she opened her cabin door. Today would be a good day. They would work side by side and—
“Well, don’t you?”
“What?”
“Know what I mean.”
“Oh, that.” Eli waved his hand. “It will be all right, Gertie. I won’t leave you, if that’s what’s worrying you.” His face hardened into an expression of kind resolve. He turned to look at her straight in the eye. “I have promised you that. And I will keep that promise. I won’t leave you.”
Gertrud nodded. “Even so . . . you do see that she is all wrong for you, don’t you? Surely you do.”
Eli turned back to stare into the fire.
“That Christina girl. The one that you met after the worship service with the sheep. Wasn’t she a dear? Much more your type.”
“No.” He rubbed his eyes. “I mean, I am sure that she is fine—lovely and charming and kind and all of that. But, no. She’s not for me.”
Gertrud sighed through her nose. “What am I going to do? How can I protect you from yourself?”
“Oh, Gertie. Enough.” He spoke gently, softly, but he meant the words. “I can look out for myself.”
“You don’t know how I would blame myself. I know her—” Gertrud cut herself off and lowered her voice. “I know her type.” She glanced behind them, as if her type might be lurking in the woods, listening, ready to pounce on the virtuous and upright.
“I don’t think you do.” Eli’s voice was so quiet that Gertrud could barely hear him. But there was unmistakable power in his tone. He was not going to back down.
“I didn’t think that anything would come of it. Not until yesterday, when she walked over to the loom and tried to come between us. As if you need defending from me. Your own sister! I have never been so frustrated. She doesn’t . . . she doesn’t understand how much I care for you.” Gertrud swallowed and looked away. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Sometimes I don’t think that you do, either.”
“Come here, Gertie.” She looked away and did not move. Eli scooted down the log until he reached his sister’s small, compact body, which sat rigid and still as a statue. He threw a long arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him. She softened and let him press her into his warm rib cage, but she did not speak. “I told you, it will be all right.” He squeezed her and rested his chin atop her prayer kappe. “I love you, Gertie. You know that. And I know how much you care. We’ll always take care of each other. I promise.”
“Then you won’t pursue her.”
Eli let out a long, hard breath. “That’s not fair, Gertie.”
Gertrud didn’t answer and Eli stood up from the log. “I’ve got a lot of weaving to do. I need to go.”
“Don’t make me gossip, Eli. I don’t want to. But maybe I should. Just this once.”
“Gertie, what are you talking about?”
Gertrud’s mouth drew into a tight, colorless line. She hesitated. “I do not want to accuse an Amish sister.”
“You’ve either said too much or too little.”
Gertrud shook her head. “I would not have to say anything if you would just listen to me. If you would believe me.”
Eli bent over and put his hand on his sister’s shoulder. “I do believe you.”
Gertrud’s face shot up to his and her expression shifted to surprise and relief.
“But I also believe my feelings,” Eli added, his eyes still on hers, hard and unyielding.
Gertrud shrunk back from Eli and shook his hand off her shoulder. Her body slouched and she looked away. “Feelings. What do you know of feelings? Feelings are not real, Eli. They are just that—feelings.”
Eli gazed at her profile with a solemn, thoughtful expression. “Even so, Gertie. Even so.” And then he turned on his heels and strode away.
* * *
He would do something nice for Catrina. He would do something to show her how much he cared. Eli stopped in the middle of the field and took in the blue flowers and wild grasses that swayed in the warm spring breeze. Every time the settlers cleared land, hardy weeds shot up to reclaim the earth. Eli sent up a prayer of thanks to der Herr that he did not have to farm the land. He was fortunate to have been apprenticed as a child in Germany to a master weaver. True, it had been a bleak, tiresome childhood, but whose hadn’t been? Life had not been easy in the Rhine River Valley.
But here, in the new world—in New Canaan—life was whatever one made it. There were no roaming soldiers, no corrupt tax collectors, no rules to keep his people under anyone’s thumb. And, because of his sacrifices as a child, he could make a living without toiling beneath an unforgiving sun. He said a prayer for his mother’s soul, grateful that she had had the foresight to send him away, even though the separation had been almost unbearable for them both.
He had returned home a man, ready to make a good, honest living for himself. But, times were troubled and uncertain, especially for the Amish. Wars and rumors of wars . . . their corner of Germany was no place for an outcast religious sect to thrive, not when everyone around them wanted a scapegoat. Amish lands were seized, Amish sons pressed into military service, despite their pacifist beliefs. It was no way to live, uncertain and insecure, wondering when the next battle would spill over into their green valley.
And so, Eli and Gertrud had left their home forever to take their chances in the New World, where it was said a man could live free if he worked hard enough for it. They had arrived six years before most Amish began to arrive. And now, Eli knew that he had come to the right place at the right time. Catrina had confirmed that to him. She was everything he had ever dreamed of. If only she felt the same way about him . . .
Eli remembered the blue of her eyes and that they matched the blue flowers surrounding him. He would take her a bouquet and tell her. He would tell her everything. But, once the bundle of wildflowers filled his arms, the gesture felt contrived and shallow. He sighed. Many, many men must have made silly, shallow attempts to woo Catrina. Flowers were the first thing those men would have thought to give. She would not be impressed. She would see him as one more in a long line of silly, shallow men.
Eli opened his arms and let the flowers drop to the ground. He took off his black beaver-felt hat, ran his fingers through his red hair, and replaced his hat. The flowers looked sad and crumpled in the dirt. What does Catrina love? What matters to her?
A thought snapped through him and he smiled. Sugar. Catrina loved sweets. He remembered when she made the apple pudding she had snuck a taste of sugar and her face had glowed as she bit into the soft white crystals. She had not known that he was watching her. But he had seen. And he could not forget the joy in her eyes in that moment.
He had white sugar. Well, he and Gertrud did. He wouldn’t take it all. He would leave half for his sister and take half for Catrina. That was a gift worth far more than the wildflowers that grew just outside her door. Anyone could pick weeds from a field. But sugar! Sugar was a rare and glorious commodity.
Eli doubled back to his campsite. Gertrud squatted over the iron spider, scrubbing the surface with pebbles to clean the baked-on grime.
“Hello, there,” Eli said.
Gertrud gasped and jumped. Eli laughed.
“You startled me!” Gertrud said as she sat back on her heels. “You did that on purpose!”
“I said hello.”
“Exactly.”
Eli laughed again and their eyes met. Gertrud shook her head, then laughed. “All right. You got me.” She went back to scrubbing, then wiped her hands on her apron and sighed. “Can’t get it clean. I wish we had some sand.”
Eli looked at his sister’s cracked red hands and frowned. “Try the creek bed,” he said.
She nodded, wiped her hands again, and stood. “I need to fetch water anyway.”
“Here.” Eli lifted the heavy yoke and settled it on his sister’s shoulders. A wooden bucket dangled from each end. “I wish you would let me.”
“I might be half your size, but I can certainly manage to haul a few buckets of water.” She shrugged to settle the yoke into a more comfortable position.
“I don’t like to see you work so hard.”
Gertrud waved her hand. “Ach. I’m not an invalid.” She started to walk away, then stopped and turned. “What are you doing back here, anyway?”
“I forgot something.”
“Oh.”
Eli waited a few beats, wondering if Gertrud would ask what he had forgotten. He would tell her if she asked, of course. But if she didn’t ask . . . well, there was no sense stirring up trouble that did not need to be stirred up. Half the sugar was his to do with as he liked. And if he wanted to go for the next six months drinking redroot tea without sweetener, that was his choice.
Gertrud only shrugged and turned back toward the woods. “I will be at the Witmers’ later,” she said as she walked away. “There is much to do here first.”
* * *
Catrina opened the door and smiled. “Good morning. I’ve already spun—”
Eli nodded solemnly and cut her off. “Good. Very good. Thank you. I . . .” The words trailed away and he paused.
Catrina cocked her head to the side. “Eli, whatever is the matter?”
He forced a wobbly smile. “Nothing. I . . .” He reached out his hand and tried to pass her a burlap pouch tied with a length of twine. “Here.”
She reached for the pouch and Eli let go of it a moment too soon. The package tumbled to the ground, bounced off his brown leather boot, and lay still. Eli laughed nervously. “Ach. Sorry.” He took a step toward the pouch and accidently kicked it farther away. “Oh. Well. That’s not what I meant to do.”
Catrina laughed. Eli did not meet her eyes when he straightened back up to his full height and pushed the pouch into her hands. This time he held it there for a moment too long, just to make sure her soft, smooth fingers gripped it tightly. He nodded and took a step back. “There you go.”
“What is this?” She felt a jolt of excitement. The weight, the size, the way the contents gave way beneath her fingers . . . could it be? She glanced up at Eli and he allowed his eyes to meet hers.
“I hope you like it.”
Her eyes sparkled as she fumbled at the string until the knot gave way.
“Careful,” Eli said. “Not that I have any authority to warn someone else to be careful, but it is—”
“Oh, Eli!” Catrina shouted, and threw her arms around his neck. She had to jump to reach him, but she felt so excited that she leaped high enough. It was sugar. Sugar! Enough to bake three cakes, or five puddings, or to sweeten their tea for months to come. “How did you know?” His shoulders felt warm and hard beneath the soft flesh of her arms. She could feel his breath run down the back of her neck. He stood without moving, frozen in place as she squeezed her arms around him and held on tight. Her feet dangled above the ground like a child. And suddenly, she realized how very foolish she was being.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean . . .” She let go of his neck and slid back to the ground. Her feet landed on the dirt with a quiet thud. She looked down and straightened her prayer kappe, then smoothed the front of her gray bodice. “It’s just that I do love sugar.”
“I know you do.” His voice sounded kind and warm, and edged with hope.
Catrina let her eyes rise to his. “You noticed?”
He gave a crooked little smile as he jammed his hands into his pockets. He was having trouble meeting her eyes. “Of course I did.” He swallowed. “I notice things about you. What you like, what you don’t like.” He hesitated and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “How special you are.”
Catrina felt as if she could hug him again. She wouldn’t, of course. She had been friendly enough for one day. Scandalously so. But, she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to feel the warmth of his smile and his safe, strong arms again! He had noticed her! Not how she looked, but her personality. And he liked her for who she was. Some people thought that she spent too much time baking and not enough time doing practical, down-to-earth work, like weeding the kitchen garden, or cleaning the oil lamps, or making lye soap from ashes. But those jobs were so tedious, so meaningless. She was good at baking. She enjoyed baking. And most of all, she enjoyed eating what she baked!
* * *
Eli enjoyed the rest of the day. He savored every moment that he sat near Catrina, listening to the clack and whir of her spinning wheel behind him. Occasionally, he found an excuse to turn around and speak to her, or walk past her and meet her eye. Her smile gave him a bolt of energy that kept his hands flying over the loom until evening.
Gertrud came to the cabin and spun for part of the day, then headed home early to cook supper over the campfire. At the end of his workday, Eli swung his arms as he strode across the field toward the fire that glowed in the evening shadows. He took off his hat and let the wind whip through his hair. It had been a good day. A very good day.
He could not stop grinning as he wandered into their campsite and dropped onto the log by the fire. Gertrud stood facing the fire as she wiped her hands on her white apron. Eli leaned back on his hands and let out a long, contented sigh. “How are you, Gertie?”
Her back stiffened.
Uh-oh.
“How am I?” Gertrud turned around slowly. “How am I?”
Eli’s grin evaporated. “That’s what I asked.”
“How do you think I am? I went to fetch a measure of sugar for stewed apples, and what did I find?” Her eyes narrowed. “What did I find, Eli?”
“My half is gone.”
“Why? Why on earth?” She pointed a stubby finger at him. “I know you have a sweet tooth, but this is absurd! I needed your half to cook for us both!”
“I didn’t think about that. I just figured I’d go without.”
Gertrud’s face jerked. “You figured . . . you mean you didn’t . . .” Her mouth and eyes opened wide, then slammed shut. “Oh no. No, no, no. Please tell me you didn’t, Eli.”
“I did.”
“You didn’t eat it. You gave it away.”
“Ja.”
“To her.”
“I am sorry, Gertie.” He looked away from her and into the orange flames. “I just figured it was mine to do with as I liked.”
“Ja. I suppose it was. I just thought . . .” She shook her head. “I can’t cook the things you like anymore. We are going to run out twice as fast now.”
“It’s all right, Gert.”
“Don’t call me that. You know I hate that name.”
“Ach. It’s cute.”
“No, it is not.”
“All right, Gertie. It’ll be fine.”
“But why, Eli? Why would you do such a thing? Don’t you know how much sugar is worth out here, in the middle of nowhere, where there is none to be had?”
“Ja.” Eli sighed. Despite Gertie’s ruffled feathers, he still felt like smiling inside. “That’s why I did it.”
And then, Gertrud did something that Eli had never seen her do before. She burst into tears. Eli jumped up from the log. He reached for her, then let his hands drop. What had he done? He had not meant to make his sister cry. Not after all he owed her. Not after . . .
He felt miserable. As miserable as he had been happy just moments before. What kind of man was he, making his own sister cry? He took off his hat, tossed it aside, and ran his fingers through his hair. He took a step toward her, then stopped. He did not know what to do. The last time she had cried was that terrible, terrible day four years ago when she had lost what was dearest to her. She had not cried since then. Not one time. She had become hard and distant and careful with her emotions. And he couldn’t blame her. He could only blame himself. It had all been his fault.
“Oh, Gertie.” His voice lowered and softened, as if he were talking to a child. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean . . .” He did not know what to say. He was not even sure why she was crying. Because he had taken his half of the sugar? That did not make sense. She had always been stoic. She had often gone without luxuries before.
Gertie squeezed her eyes shut and pulled up the bottom of her apron to cover her face. She pressed the white linen cloth against her skin, hiding the tears.
“Gertie. I am so sorry.”
Her head shook from behind the apron. She looked comical, like a child playing beneath a bedsheet, and if the circumstances had been different, he would have laughed. He did not.
“You don’t understand.”
Eli swallowed and stared at the outline of her nose and chin beneath the damp apron. “You think I am upset about the sugar. I don’t care about the sugar!” Her voice rose to a wail.
“Oh. All right then. It’s not the sugar. What is it, Gertie?” Had something happened that he did not know about? Had someone died? Had something terrible happened?
“It’s because you have fallen for her. I have been so afraid of this. And now . . . giving her all that sugar. You love sugar! You love sweets!” Her head shook beneath the apron. “You would not have done such a thing if you were not completely taken by her.”
Eli stared at her. What could he say to that? Why should he deny it? He flexed his jaw, torn between protecting his sister to whom he owed everything, and living the life he wanted to live. “I am so sorry that it hurts you, Gertie. But you are right. I have fallen for her. And I think . . . I think she might feel the same about me. At least I hope she does.”
“No!” She tore the apron from her face. “Don’t you see, Eli! Please, please tell me that you see!”
He shook his head, lost.
“She is not who you think she is.” Her red, swollen eyes bored into his. “She isn’t the . . . girl that you imagine her to be. I know, Eli. I know!”
Eli swallowed. He felt a cold pain sweep through his body and settle in his chest. His words came out slow and steady and purposeful. “I do not want to hear what you think you know, Gertrud.” His teeth clenched as he fought to maintain a calm, even tone. “I do not want you to say another word. Not unless you want to damage our relationship—yours and mine—forever.”
“I love you, Eli. I’m your older sister. It’s my duty to protect you.”
“It is your duty not to succumb to gossip. I don’t know what you think you know. But it can’t be true and I won’t listen to it. And you won’t tell me, Gertrud. If you love me then you will never tell me because I never want to hear lies about the woman I love.”
The woman I love. Had he said that out loud? Yes, he had. And it felt good. It felt right.
Gertrud raised her chin. Her lips quivered. A single tear slipped from her eye and slid down the hard plane of her cheekbone. She swallowed and kept a steady gaze on her brother. She said nothing.
Eli did not know what to do. His heart sang with the realization that he loved Catrina. He did not just like her, it was not just affection that he felt for her. He loved her. Truly and fully, as he had never loved another woman.
But, at the same time, he had torn apart his sister’s heart. The one person to whom he owed his complete loyalty. After what had happened . . . After what he had done four years ago. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Gertrud still did not speak. She just kept staring at him, her face crumpled with hurt. Eli lowered his eyes first. He bent to pick up his beaver-felt hat, jammed it onto his head, and stalked into the dark woods. He needed to be alone.
He had no idea what he was going to do.