Chapter Thirteen
Everything was happening too fast. Before the next Sabbath, the Webbers’ campsite had transformed into a clearing large enough for a kitchen garden with a stout cabin in the middle. It was time to move the loom. Eli did not feel at all ready. He wanted to stay in the warm, familiar sanctuary where he could hear the clack of Catrina’s wheel beside him and smell her cooking wafting from the hearth. Dash it all, he did not want to take his loom home and set up his own place. He wanted to remain a part of Catrina’s life.
There was something he could do about it. It would be so easy. All he had to do was tell her that he loved her. He had doubted for a long time that a woman like Catrina could love a man like him. But after the wolf . . . well, a woman like Catrina did not fight a wolf bare-handed unless she had a very, very good reason. Saving the wool was not enough. She liked to spin and weave, but no one liked to spin and weave that much. No, she had done it for him. She had to have feelings for him. She had to.
All right, so maybe he was not one hundred percent convinced. But he had his suspicions. And oh, how he wanted to act on them! Only Gertrud stood in his way. Eli sighed as he whacked the loom’s crossbeam with a wooden mallet to loosen the joints. He felt himself coming apart with the loom. This would never do.
But, he had promised Gertrud that he would not leave her and that he would not pursue Catrina. He was a man of his word. So that was that. Catrina flitted around the room, offering to reach for this or hold that. Gertrud’s face looked unusually placid as she hauled the dismantled treadle to their handcart. Of course it does. She is getting her way.
No, that wasn’t fair. She is only trying to protect me. Eli did not doubt that Gertrud’s intentions were honorable. His sister truly believed that there was something lurking beneath Catrina’s grace and beauty. What on earth it could be, Eli did not know. Catrina was perfect as far as he was concerned. Oh sure, she might prove difficult from time to time, but who didn’t? We all have our foibles. And if Catrina’s is tidiness and primness, so be it. Actually, scratch that. That is one of the reasons that I love her. Her faults and foibles make her who she is. As a matter of fact, I am not sure they are faults at all. They are simply her. Wonderful, perfect her.
Eli inhaled and released a long, wistful breath. The loom lay in pieces at his feet, like the misplaced skeleton of a beloved companion. He had worked as slowly as he could. There was no way to drag it out any further. He had to leave. When would he see Catrina again? Would they have any interaction beyond the worship services? Would their relationship be more than long, stolen glances as they sat in their separate sections and wondered what could have been?
Eli heaved a heavy crossbeam from the floor, stumbled, and dropped it on his foot. Dash it all! He yelped and hopped in place, then gritted his teeth and picked up the beam again. He had to keep his mind on his work—not on Catrina.
Catrina gasped and ran to his side. “Are you all right?”
Eli managed a crooked grin. “It isn’t the first time I’ve dropped something on my foot.”
Catrina smiled. Eli could see she wanted to say something. He watched her eyes follow his sister as Gertrud strode out the door with the warp roller in her arms. Catrina’s eyes slid back to him. “I am going to miss you, Eli Webber.”
Eli’s stomach dropped. It would not hurt to tell the truth. Nothing more, nothing less. He would not lie and he would not lead her on. “I am going to miss you too, Catrina Witmer.” And then he scooped up the crossbeam, settled it on his muscled shoulder, and strode out the door without looking back. If he did, Eli knew that he would say far more than he should.
* * *
Eli’s cabin felt far too quiet. It was a good cabin, sturdy and watertight—Jacob Miller had made sure of that. But, it was not Catrina’s cabin. It did not have the warmth of her hearth or her smile. It did not have the smell of her meat pies and apple puddings or the sound of her skirts swishing as she swept past his loom.
“The quiet is good,” Gertrud said. The only sounds were the clack of her spinning wheel, the thump and swoosh of his loom, and the snap of the sparks that occasionally jumped from the fire. It had been quiet at Catrina’s cabin—neither she nor her grandparents were loud or boisterous people. But that had been a different sort of quiet. There had been a familiar, understood camaraderie in it. And the occasional joke or word of encouragement to remind each other that they were not alone.
Had he ever felt so alone as he did now? Had he ever felt that Gertrud’s stern, silent presence was enough for him? No matter. He had put himself in this situation and he would do his duty. “Ja,” Eli answered. “The quiet is good.”
Gertrud nodded. The strand of wool whispered through her calloused fingers.
Eli sighed. He felt very small inside.
The spinning wheel clattered to a stop. Eli heard Gertrud rummaging through the burlap sack beside her. “We’ve barely any wool left.” She stood and stretched her back. “I am going to call on Hilda and Christina to ask about the shearing. Surely it is nearly time.”
Eli nodded as he slid the shuttle between the threads of yarn. He pulled the beater back and forth with a dull thud.
“Come with me.” Gertrud reached for the scoop hanging from a peg by the door. Eli let go of the beater, cracked his knuckles, and started to rise from the bench. Gertrud smiled. “Christina will welcome a visit from you, I am sure.”
Right. Eli rubbed his lower back and settled back onto the bench. “I was just stretching. You go on without me. Our dear Christina will have to muddle on without me.”
“Ach.”
Eli did not turn around.
“You are a young man. But you won’t be young forever. Grab life while you can. You cannot stay with your old, widowed sister forever.”
Was she hearing herself? Did she realize what she was saying?
“Ja.” Eli clenched his jaw to keep from saying what he really wanted to say. “You make a fine point.”
“So you will come?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Eli, you can be so tiresome sometimes.”
Eli grinned and craned his neck to face her. “That is precisely why you love me.”
“I will be back in time to cook your dinner,” Gertrud said as she marched out the door. She was not smiling.
Eli shook his head and settled back into his weaving. He tried to focus on anything, anything but Catrina Witmer. Nothing worked, of course. If only I could fall for Christina. But of course, he could not choose whom he loved. If he could, life would be so much simpler. And so much less rewarding.
The sound of footsteps in the yard pulled Eli from his thoughts.
“Hello?” Catrina’s voice!
Eli jumped up so fast that he whacked his head on a ceiling beam. Dash it all, these cabins had a low clearance. Eli rubbed his head and barreled outside. He skidded to a stop in front of Catrina. “Hello.” He grinned sheepishly and cleared his throat. Had his excitement been too obvious? Of course it had. Hang it all, he was no good at wooing a lady.
Catrina laughed and her eyes sparkled. A genuine smile. “I am glad to see you too, Eli.”
He stared at her for a few beats and she stared back. “Oh. Sorry. I should invite you in.”
Catrina nodded and started for the door.
“But I can’t. Gertie’s gone. We would be unchaperoned and it would not be proper.” He frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Not that I have improper intentions.” Oh, for heaven’s sake. Why had he said that of all things? “What I mean to say is . . .” He tried to remove his hat, realized it was not there, and raked his fingers through his hair. “It is good to see you, Catrina.”
She laughed again. “Ja. To be sure.”
He stared at her. She did not say anything else. “Why are you here?” he asked. “Wait. That is not what I meant . . . I just wonder why . . .” He cleared his throat. “Lovely weather today, ja?”
“Ja. Lovely.” Catrina smiled at him like a cat that had cornered a canary. Eli had the distinct feeling that she was enjoying this.
“I hear that Abram’s flax harvest is coming along nicely,” Eli said. “And, uh, the Widow Yoder has had good fortune with her herb garden. The barley in the Grubers’ south field is already planted.” Eli ran his fingers through his hair again. “You did not come to discuss the flax harvest or the barley harvest or the weather, did you?”
Catrina smiled that sly cat smile. “I came to bring you this.” She lifted her hands and Eli saw that she held something wrapped in an old cloth.
“Oh. I didn’t notice.” He had been too busy staring at her impossibly blue eyes and thinking about how they sparkled. And talking about the weather and his proper intentions. Had he really said that?
“To thank you for the gift of sugar.”
“Ah. Then I shall have to give you sugar more often.”
She smiled and passed the package to him. He lifted a corner of the cloth and grinned. “Pie?”
“Ja.”
He let out a contented sigh. “You make me happy, Catrina.” He swallowed. Had that been too bold? She was staring at him with a strange expression of amusement on her face. It made him feel distinctly uncomfortable and giddy at the same time. A beautiful woman had never stared at him like that before. “Stay and have a slice with me?”
She shook her head.
No, of course not. It would not be proper for him to entertain her alone. “Not that I meant for you to come in. Dash it all, would you like to take a slice home with you to eat?”
She shook her head again. That sly cat grin widened. “You are a dear, Eli Webber.”
“Oh. Am I?”
“You know that you are.”
He certainly did not.
She smoothed the front of her apron and adjusted her prayer kappe. “Walk me home, won’t you?”
Eli’s stomach jolted into his chest and dropped back down again. Escorting Catrina home sounded like a splendid idea. “Ja. Let’s just put the pie on the table.” The excitement was short-lived. His conscience hit him as the pewter pie plate thudded against the rough, hand-hewn table. He had made a promise to Gertrud. He should not lead Catrina on by walking her home or lingering to chat, or staring at her with adoration as he had been doing. He hoped that last one had not been too obvious.
He walked out of the cabin with a slumped spine and tight jaw. “I am sorry, Catrina. But I cannot spare the time just now. I have to stay here and—”
“But Eli, you cannot possibly expect me to walk home all alone today.”
“No?” She had just walked from home all alone.
“No.” She shook her head hard. A tiny furrow appeared between her eyes. All Eli could think about was how adorable that tiny furrow looked. “Abram tracked a bobcat this morning. It’s wandering somewhere near the settlement. I couldn’t possibly face such a thing alone.”
“You only face down wolves, then?”
“Oh. That.” She waved her small, delicate hand. “An aberration, to be sure.”
“Ah. To be sure.” Eli’s lip curled into a half smile. “You know that bobcats are rather small. Not much bigger than a housecat.”
“Oh.” Catrina straightened her posture. She looked away. “Then perhaps it was a cougar. One cannot be expected to keep the names of all these wild beasts straight.”
“No. One cannot.”
Catrina turned back to face him. She stared squarely into his eyes. Eli felt his stomach quiver again. “So you will accompany me home?”
“I cannot allow you to succumb to wild beasts.”
“Indeed not.” She placed her hand on the crook of his elbow. “Lead on.”
Eli swallowed. Her hand felt warm and soft against his arm. He could feel the gentle pressure through the sleeve of his black coat. Only women swooned. Eli would never swoon. He only felt like he would swoon. He cleared his throat and tried to stand a bit taller. Her hand felt very, very nice against his elbow.
“Our cabin is terribly quiet now,” Catrina said as they began to stroll across the field that separated their homesteads.
“Is it?”
“I miss the sound of the loom.” He thought that her hand tightened against his arm, although the movement had been almost imperceptible. “I miss you at the loom.”
“Oh.” Oh! Eli swallowed. “I miss you too.”
Catrina sighed softly. Eli thought her breath sounded like the wings of a butterfly. When had he become so embarrassingly romantic in his thinking? Catrina Witmer would drive any man to ridiculous thoughts of butterfly wings, he supposed.
“You know, we did speak about my using the loom.” She turned and looked up at him. Her eyelids fluttered. He could feel himself falling into those big blue pools.
“Ja.” However did her eyes get to be so blue? How was it even possible?
She sighed again. “But I had so much spinning to do for you that I barely used the loom while it was in my cabin.” Those wide blue eyes blinked. “Perhaps I could visit from time to time. Just to use the loom, of course.”
Eli nodded. His mouth felt like it had filled with sand. He could not possibly form words. Not when she was staring into his eyes like that.
She let her gaze drop. “Oh, I do hope that I have not been too forward! But you don’t mind, do you, Eli?” Her gaze jerked back to his face. “You don’t think me forward, do you? You understand?”
“Ja.” He nodded and patted her hand that still rested lightly on his arm. “I understand.” But he did not understand. He did not understand at all. In the time it took to walk across the field, he had broken his promise to Gertrud. He did not know how it had happened. All he knew was that he wanted to continue to fall into those sparkling blue eyes. He wanted to jump and shout with happiness. Catrina would call on him—or on the loom, rather. Regardless, she would be near him again. He could hardly wait.
Until he thought about what Gertrud would say. It would be all right, surely. After all he had not really broken his promise to Gertrud. He was not courting Catrina. He was merely being a good neighbor. And could he help the fact that his neighbor happened to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen?
* * *
Gertrud was vexed. No, vexed was not the word. She was beside herself with worry. She shook her head as she stared at her brother. “You said that you would not pursue her.”
“And I did not.”
Gertrud raised an eyebrow.
“She called on me—on us—and asked if she might weave on our loom from time to time.” He spread out his hands. “It was the neighborly thing to do.”
“And being neighborly was your only motivation?”
Eli hesitated. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Dash it all, you know it was not.”
Gertrud gave him a sharp I-told-you-so look.
“But I kept my word. I did not pursue her.”
“She pursued you?” Gertrud’s expression sharpened. “As I predicted.”
“Please don’t.”
“You are young and naïve, brother mine.” She shook her head. “Why can’t you trust me to keep you safe?”
“Ach, Gertie. I am not a boy anymore. Why can’t you trust me to be a man?”
Gertrud swallowed and turned away so that her back was to him. They were at a stalemate, then. Her shoulders began to shake, ever so slightly. Had he made her cry again? When Gertrud spoke again, she said the words so softly that Eli almost could not hear. “Because I love you too much,” she whispered. He had no answer to that. “Life is difficult, Eli. I would not see you make it more difficult by attaching yourself to a woman who will bring you sorrow all your days.”
Eli tried to think before he spoke. This conversation had become delicate. He was not fond of delicate conversations. He shifted his weight from one foot to another. His elbow moved a little too far to the left when he did so and knocked Gertrud’s mending basket off their table. The cabin was barely large enough to fit a table, a spinning wheel, and a loom, even when the straw sleeping pallets were folded in the corner for the day. He sighed, righted the basket, and began tossing the fabric scraps back inside. “I believe that she will do the opposite, Gertrud.”
Gertrud did not answer for a long, heavy moment. She swallowed and smoothed down her prayer kappe. “Perhaps you should trust that I know more about her than you do.”
“I appreciate your concern. I appreciate your love for me. But, I believe that you are wrong.”
“Oh, Eli.” Gertrud looked like something terrible had happened. Eli felt as though he would do almost anything to save his sister from whatever she was feeling that would make her so distraught. He had tried his best, after all. He had not pursued Catrina. She had come to him, stared at him with those impossibly blue eyes, and invited herself back into his life. It had happened so quickly he had not been able to think what had been happening. He had only been able to think about those dazzling blue eyes. Eyes that blue could hardly be believed. How could they possibly be real?
“You are not even listening to me.” Gertrud’s expression had shifted to sadness. As if she had lost something and could not get it back.
“I am listening. I told you that I will not pursue her and I will not. I have not.”
“But that is precisely the problem. She is the type of woman who pursues a man. Don’t you see? She has set her sights on you!”
Eli tried very hard not to let the corners of his mouth curl into a smile of wonder and amazement. Gertrud was right. Catrina was pursing him. Catrina! Beautiful, perfect Catrina. She had stared into his eyes, asked to call on him, baked him a pie, put her hand on his arm in a perfectly proper fashion—and he had felt such electrifying emotion through that light, proper touch! Eli swallowed. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. It was glorious.