Chapter Twenty-Two
Catrina felt as if she were walking on the edge of a knife. She still had not been able to tell Eli what she wanted to tell him, not when she saw how much it would hurt him during their last conversation. Gertrud must be right—telling Eli about her past was the wrong thing to do. But she could not stop feeling guilty about it. No matter what Catrina did, she felt conflicted and miserable. What if Gertrud were right? Worse, what if Gertrud were wrong? What if Catrina had added to her shame and failure by withholding the truth? Was it wrong to withhold the truth for a good reason? Was any reason good enough? Dash it all, she would drive herself mad if she did not stop agonizing over those questions.
After Catrina agreed to keep her past a secret, she and Gertrud began to develop a wary truce. But Gertrud’s eyes still followed Catrina everywhere she went. Everything Catrina did felt measured and judged. No matter how hard she tried, Catrina felt that it could never be good enough.
That afternoon, when the tension stretched long, anxious fingers across the cabin and closed around her throat, Catrina felt that she would jump up and shout if Gertrud said another word in judgment. No, that was not quite accurate. Gertrud had not actually said anything that day. It was her cold, steely silence that ground Catrina’s nerves down. If only Gertrud would say something, then Catrina would be able to call her out for it. But she could not criticize silence. What would she say? You don’t talk enough? That proved nothing!
Eli did not say anything either. He hunched over the loom with a clenched jaw and slumped shoulders. He had brooded since their failed conversation in the woods. Perhaps he felt the same disappointment and frustration that Catrina did. This was not how the marriage was supposed to be! She felt a growing distance between them. Maybe she had been wrong to keep the truth from Eli, even though she did it to protect him and to please Gertrud. Maybe she had built a wall between them. How could the marriage work if there were secrets between them? But Gertrud was sure that it was the only way....
A loud knock shook Catrina from her thoughts. Abram strode through the open door before she could finish telling him to come in. He surveyed the silent cabin and took a seat on the bench beside the hand-hewn table. “Awful quiet today,” Abram said as he leaned an elbow against the oak tabletop. He scratched his knee and straightened one of his woolen hose. “Cat got everybody’s tongue?”
“Something like that,” Catrina said. She did not stop her spinning wheel. Eli’s loom clacked and swooshed as the women’s spinning wheels clicked. Other than that, no one spoke.
“I came to the wrong place, I see. Thought an old lonely bachelor might get some friendly conversation.” He looked at Catrina and raised his eyebrows. “Or a bite to eat.”
Catrina smiled. It was good to have Abram in the room. His warm energy neutralized the tension. “I can always count on you to appreciate my culinary talents.”
“That you can, my dear.”
Gertrud’s spinning wheel slowed but did not stop. She cut a sidelong glance to Abram. “I would say that we can always count on you to appreciate gluttony.”
Abram slapped his knee. “Do my ears deceive me? Did our Gertie just make a joke?”
Gertrud raised her chin a fraction. Her fingers continued to work a length of wool around the wheel. “Ja. I suppose I did.”
“Hmmmm.” Abram’s hand ran through his thick black beard. “Sounds like our Gertie’s in a better mood than I thought. She might even be good company.”
“Don’t push it, Abram.”
Abram shrugged. His lips curled in a lazy half smile. “It’s a nice day. Good for a walk. Would you be good company on a walk, or would you bite my head off for existing?”
“I would do no such thing.” She pumped the treadle of the spinning wheel a little harder. “You persecute me for no cause, Abram Ziegler.”
“Ah. Another joke. My, you are in fine form today.”
“I do not bite heads off. I simply do not have time for nonsense.”
“Mmmm. Nonsense.” Abram grinned. “So you would accompany me on a walk and not bite my head off?”
“Of course. I just told you I do not bite heads off. I simply cannot abide tomfoolery.”
“All right. If you insist.” Abram stood up and headed for the door. He stood in the threshold and waited. His finger tapped the doorframe in a slow, steady rhythm until Gertrud looked up at him.
“What are you doing, Abram? I’ve told you I have no time for nonsense.”
“You also told me that you would accompany me on a walk.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Oh, but you did. And I believe you to be a woman of your word. Let’s see, your exact words were, ‘Of course.’ That was in response to my question, ‘So you would accompany me on a walk and not bite my head off?’”
Gertrud frowned and returned her attention to the spinning wheel. “You are an incorrigible man, Abram Ziegler.”
“Uh-oh.” Abram shook his head. “You are not keeping your word. Remember, you said that you would accompany me on a walk and you would not bite my head off. The second clause is as important as the first.” He smiled. “To me, anyway.”
Gertrud let out a sharp exhalation. She pulled her foot from the treadle and shot up from her stool. “Fine. Have your way, Abram. You have worn me down and I will walk with you just so that you will stop twisting the meaning of my words!”
Abram raised an eyebrow and looked at Catrina. “She is so eager to walk with me that she raised her voice from the excitement.”
“From the irritation, Abram!” Gertrud said as she pulled her straw scoop from the peg on the wall and shoved it over her prayer kappe. “Make no mistake about that!”
Abram winked at Catrina. “And yet, she is going with me. That is not the actions of a woman who is irritated, is it?” He shrugged. “Seems more like the actions of a woman who is smitten with a man.”
Gertrud’s breath shot out of her mouth in a sharp hiss. She tied the ribbons of her scoop around her throat in a hard, fast movement, then tugged at the knot to loosen it. Oh, she was mad now! Catrina expected Gertrud to pull off her scoop, slam it down, and sit back at her spinning wheel.
But she did not.
“It’s all right. Women just can’t help themselves around me.” Abram laughed and his big, booming voice filled the cabin. Gertrud responded in a most unexpected way. She smiled. Her lips almost curled into a grin. And then she snorted.
“I’ll take that snort as a laugh,” Abram said. “Hurry up and let’s go while I’m on your good side.” He offered his arm and she took it. Eli’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced at Catrina. They could not quite believe it. Abram paused in the doorway and looked back at them. “I’d like to see what being on her bad side is like.”
Catrina wanted to laugh, but she could not. She knew exactly what that was like and there was nothing funny about it.
* * *
Eli noticed a difference after Gertrud and Abram left the cabin. Some of the tension swept out the door with his sister. Not all of it did, though. That concerned him. What had happened in the days since he had married Catrina? There had never been tension before. But he had never brought a bride home to a disapproving sister before.
He and Catrina chatted and even laughed a little as they waited for Gertrud to return. It felt awkward to speak freely, as if they still did not quite know each other yet. Eli felt shy and unsure, even though he knew this was the perfect time to tell Catrina why he could not defend her. It was the perfect time to explain everything. He swallowed and waited for the right moment.
“There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you,” Catrina said before he could speak. “But I don’t know if . . .”
“No. I need to tell you first . . .”
Eli stopped midsentence and they both looked up from their work when they heard Gertrud’s footsteps at the door. Eli frowned. He had failed to talk to her yet again. He wondered what Catrina had been about to say, but the question faded when he saw his sister sweep into the cabin.
“Well?” Eli asked as Gertrud untied the ribbons of her scoop. He grinned.
“Well, what?” Gertrud said. She wore the same serious expression she always did.
“How was your walk with Abram?”
“It was a walk. What is any walk like? You move your legs, you pass trees and hills and end up back home again.”
“You know that’s not what I meant! What did he say to you?”
“He said the flax is dried and ready to ret. We should go on the morrow. It’s a good crop, dried white and not brown.”
“Ja, that is welcome news. But what did he say?”
“Was that not saying something?”
“Gertie.”
She shrugged and slid into place at her spinning wheel. “What did you want him to say?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something about his intentions?”
Gertrud snorted. “Intentions? I think not.”
“So Abram Ziegler asked you on a walk just to discuss the flax harvest?”
“Perhaps.” She made a show of focusing on the wool in her hand.
Eli smiled. “And perhaps not.” He glanced at Catrina. “I think our Gertie has gotten herself a suitor.”
“Do not be ridiculous. I have done no such thing. And I most certainly have done no such thing with the likes of Abram Ziegler.” She began to pump the treadle with her foot. “You know, sometimes a walk is just a walk.”
Eli raised an eyebrow. “And sometimes, sister mine, it is not.”
He noticed that Gertrud seemed particularly thoughtful for the rest of the day. It was almost as if she were mulling over his words and analyzing the walk. But that would be ridiculous.
* * *
Catrina’s secret burned within her. She could feel the anxiety building and building, until she knew something in her would snap.
That snap came the very next morning. Catrina woke up scratching the skin beneath her thin linen shift. She sat up, pulled up her sleeve, and saw bright red welts covering her skin. Her stomach churned as it had ever since she agreed to withhold her past from Eli. Stress. The rash must be from stress.
Catrina pulled her wool skirt over her shift, slipped into her bodice and laced it closed, then pinned her oversleeves in place to cover the sleeves of her shift, which served as a nightgown by night and an undergarment by day.
“If Catrina’s still abed at this hour I will have to go on to Abram’s myself,” Gertrud’s voice said from the other side of the curtain.
Dash it all! She had not meant to oversleep. They were supposed to help Abram ret the flax today. That would be another mark against her. Would she ever be good enough? Catrina’s neck began to itch. Dash it all again! She had to calm down.
“In a hurry to see Abram this morning?” Eli asked in a good-natured voice.
Gertrud grunted. Something banged and clanged in the fireplace.
“I’m coming!” Catrina shouted through the curtain as she stood on one leg and pulled a woolen hose up the other leg. She had to hop to keep her balance and she thumped into the wall.
“Are you all right?” Eli asked.
“Fine!” She yanked the hose above her knee, tied it in place, and began to pull the other hose up. This time, she hopped onto the sleeping pallet, lost her footing, and tumbled onto the straw mattress.
“What in heaven’s name?” Gertrud muttered from the other side of the curtain.
Catrina was not herself at all. She was not the type to fall down or wallow about on a straw mattress, with one hose on, one halfway off, as she tried to regain her balance. It is only stress, she reminded herself.
Eli was not convinced. He noticed the red welt on her throat as soon as she pushed the curtain aside. He stared at her as she tucked the curtain behind the hook on the wall to create one open room. Gertrud looked past her and frowned. “You’ve left your pallet out.” She rubbed her temples. “Really, we’ve got to go.”
Catrina cringed. Another thing that she had failed to do. They had to fold and stack the pallets during the day to make room.
“She’s unwell!” Eli said. He shouted it, really.
Gertrud looked up toward the sky with the expression of a long-suffering saint on her face. “I’ll meet you there.”
“No! I’ll have to fetch help. You stay here. We can’t leave her alone.”
Gertrud let out a long breath. She sank onto the bench beside the table and began to tap the wooden surface with a slow, impatient tap, tap, tap.
Catrina wished that she had remembered to cover her throat. She had been in such a hurry to get ready that she had forgotten to wrap her neck cloth around her collarbone and tuck it into her bodice. Dash it all! She doubled back to her trunk of clothing, pulled out her neck cloth, and threw it into place.
“Hold on, now.” Eli hurried to Catrina’s side and pushed the cloth aside. He looked stricken as he studied the rash. His worry made her worry and a new welt appeared on the soft white skin of her throat. Yes, she thought, this must be stress. How else could a new welt appear so fast?
Eli did not stop to listen to theories. Catrina feared that the poor man might pass out from concern. He looked convinced that death was imminent. He ran to fetch Ruth Yoder before Catrina could stop him. The elderly widow had some knowledge of herbs and remedies and would not mind calling on Catrina, but Catrina hated to be a bother. Everyone thought she was delicate and unfit for the backcountry. She hated to reinforce that opinion.
She did not hate seeing Eli fall over himself to get help for her. He dropped his hat, knocked over a basket of raw wool, and stumbled over a wooden bench on his way out the door. His antics made her feel loved. Only a man who cared about her would become so flustered over a rash. His last words before he ran through the door were something to the effect of “measles or the pox.”
Gertrud sighed and shook her head. “He’ll work himself into a state of illness over nothing. And then we’ll be fetching the Widow Yoder on his account.”
Catrina just smiled to herself and scratched her elbow through her sleeve. Dash it all, but everything itched. At least she felt loved. That almost made the itching worth it.
Gertrud and Catrina waited in silence until Eli returned with Ruth Yoder at his heels. It had been a long, uncomfortable waiting period, as neither woman wanted to speak to the other. Indeed, the worst thing about this whole debacle of a morning was that Catrina knew she had done one more thing to frustrate her sister-in-law. The sun was nearly above the tree line by now. What must Abram think? She hated that he would have to ret the flax by himself because of her.
“Ah!” Ruth said as she strode through the door and untied her scoop. She tossed it on the table and headed straight for Catrina. “Let’s unpin your sleeve.”
“All right.” They worked together to unfasten the detachable sleeve from the bodice, then rolled up the sleeve of the thin linen shift she wore underneath.
“Wonderful good.”
“What?” Eli’s face jerked. He had been hovering over them the entire time. He had raked his fingers through his hair so many times that it looked as though a wild animal had nested on his head. A very red wild animal. “What can be good about this?” His hands made big, excited circles in the air.
“Ach.” Ruth rolled the sleeve of Catrina’s shift down and began to pin her outer sleeve back onto her bodice. “It is only hives.”
“Hives?”
“Ja.” Ruth nodded and fastened the last pin. “Mix a spoonful of warm water with a spoonful of vinegar to stop the itching.”
“That’s it?” Eli looked confused. “I thought hives came from excessive worry.”
“Ja.” Ruth nodded again. “I have often found that to be the case.”
“But . . .” Eli’s face crumpled.
Catrina forced a smile. “It is nothing, Eli. Sometimes hives come from other things.”
“Such as?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Catrina scratched her neck. “No one does. They just appear sometimes.”
“When someone has excessive worry,” Ruth said.
“But . . .” Eli stared at Catrina. He shook his head.
“Take something for your troubles, Ruth.” Catrina did not want to broach the subject of stress. What would she say to explain her worries to Eli? “I made dried apple pie today. The children would like it, ja?” Ruth lived with Jacob, Greta, and their two adopted children—all of whom enjoyed a good apple pie.
“They would. Growing like weeds. You can’t feed them enough.” Catrina smiled and gathered the leftover slices. At least she could give something back.
As soon as Ruth left, Eli insisted that she stay in bed. Catrina refused. “I’ve already caused us to miss the first of the retting. I won’t lie abed while you two make up for the loss I caused. I will come and help.”
Eli frowned. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I cannot go along with that.” He looked miserable. “But you know I can never say no to you.”
“You are a darling, wonderful good man. Now move aside and we will be on our way.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s such a good idea. . . .”
But Catrina had already stridden to the door and pulled her scoop from its peg. “Remember what Ruth said. If this is caused by excessive worry, then I must go. Staying here will only make me worry more because I will feel guilty that I can’t help.”
Eli sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck again. After a pause he nodded. “All right. But don’t tax yourself. Promise me that.”
“I promise.” Catrina stood on her tiptoes and kissed the tip of his nose. “I hope you don’t mind that your wife looks like a red-spotted calf.”
Eli grinned. “You are still the most beautiful woman in the world. Those hives will have to work harder if they want to change that.”
Catrina felt warm inside. She realized that she felt a good bit less itchy. Feeling loved certainly is good medicine.