Chapter Twenty-Three
Abram was knee-deep in a stagnant pond when they reached his land. The flax had to soak in water until the outer layer rotted away. Retting was really just a fancy word for rotting and Eli wondered why it wasn’t called rotting instead. The fouler and scummier the water, the better, because it rotted the flax quicker than clean, running water. That was one reason Abram had chosen this plot of land; it had a nice (if you could call it that) stagnant pool of yellow-green slop.
“Hallo there,” Abram shouted to them as he sloshed out of the shallow water to greet them.
“I’m sorry,” Catrina said. “It’s my fault we’re late.”
Abram saw her expression and frowned. “Sun’s not halfway up the sky yet. Plenty of time to get the work finished. Don’t fret yourself about it, little lass.” He started to pick up a bundle of flax and hesitated. His attention slid back to Catrina. “What’s ailing you?”
“I’m fine,” she said, and readjusted her neck cloth. Eli could tell that she did not want to draw any more attention to herself.
“You look ready to faint,” Abram said to Catrina, then jerked his chin toward Gertrud. “That pretty face of yours looks almost as sour as Gertie’s this morning.” He grinned. “Notice I said almost.”
Gertrud pursed her lips as she cut past him to the bundles of flax that lay beside the pond.
Abram watched Gertrud march by him and smiled. Then he turned back to Catrina. “Got some spots, eh?”
“Ja. I suppose you could say that.”
“You look like Greta’s old milk cow, Rose. The one with the red spots.”
Catrina turned to Eli and they both laughed. “That’s just what I was saying,” she said.
Abram raised his eyebrows. “Because it is true.”
“Abram, mind your tongue. I do not find that a favorable comparison.”
Abram scratched his chin. “No? Rose is a very friendly and reliable cow.”
“Abram, you really are incorrigible.”
“I left some of the rippling for you to do so you don’t have to get your pretty little feet wet. So maybe I’m not so bad after all.”
“Did you?” Catrina clapped her hands together. “You are a dear!”
Eli realized what a sacrifice Catrina had been willing to make. She thought that she would have to slog through that foul green water. Well, he would not have allowed that anyway. He would do everything he could for Catrina. Especially since he couldn’t control Gertrud’s attitude toward her. His frustration over that made him try to make it up in other ways. But, he felt himself falling short no matter what he did. And now, Catrina had broken out in hives! His poor, perfect wife suffered from excessive worry. That was his fault. He had failed her.
Eli watched as Catrina picked up a bundle of flax and took it to the rippling board that Abram had set atop a table. Long, thick nails stood in a row across the board, rather like a large, metal comb. Catrina pulled the bundle of flax through the nails and the seeds popped off and bounced onto an old length of cloth laid on the ground below. Afterward, Abram would collect the seeds from the cloth and use them for next year’s planting or for animal feed.
Eli waited until Catrina had pulled the flax through the ripple board a few times before he nodded and turned away. She seemed all right. But he would keep a close eye on her. It would not do for her to work too hard. He wished she had stayed abed. But she had wanted to come and he was not the type to order his wife about. Some men did that, but he thought it ungentlemanly. It was downright unacceptable, to be honest, despite what the law had to say on the matter. He much preferred an equal partnership built on friendship and trust.
There he went again, rattling on about trust when he still had not told his wife about the terrible thing that he had done to Gertrud four years ago.
“Too scared to get your feet wet?” Abram called from the water.
“Ach. I’m coming.”
“Slowly.” Abram grinned and swept his palm across the surface of the pond. An arc of slimy liquid shot through the air and splattered Eli’s breeches. He leapt back and Abram laughed. “They’re going to get wet anyway.”
Eli shrugged. “I can’t argue that logic.”
“Best plunge right in. And don’t think about it.”
Abram jerked his chin toward Gertrud. “Like your sister here. She’s put you to shame.”
Gertrud stood thigh deep in the stagnant water as she pushed an armful of flax stalks beneath the surface. Her face looked calm and vacant as she focused on her work. If the foulness of the pond disturbed her, she did not show it. “A woman like that is worth her weight in gold in the backcountry, I tell you.” Abram shook his head. “Not even a grimace.”
If Gertrud enjoyed the compliment, she did not show it. Eli sighed as he unfastened and removed his leather shoes, rolled down his woolen hosen, and peeled them off. He tossed the hosen behind him and debated whether or not to roll up his breeches. He decided that would be pointless.
Gertrud slogged out of the water to retrieve another bundle of flax. The stench of algae and rot wafted from Gertrud’s wet skin. Eli sighed. He really wasn’t cut out for this any more than Catrina was, but one must do what one must do. Tomorrow he would be all the more grateful to be back at his loom. He heard Catrina humming as she stood at the rippling board. At least she doesn’t have to go in. That thought gave him the strength to plunge into the water with an armful of flax.
Eli had expected it to be cold, but the water felt warm as a hot stone that sat in the sun all day. The heat felt as wrong as the smell. Oh well, there was nothing for it. He pushed through the oily, stagnant water until it lapped past his knees. Then Eli separated the stalks and pushed them beneath the water. He did not think the job could get any worse, until he stooped down and his nose was just above the surface. That was definitely worse.
“Here,” Abram said, and handed him a stone. Eli had not expected it to be quite so heavy and his knees buckled. He tried to lock them back in place before Abram noticed. Eli lowered the rock onto the stalks to weigh them down, then waded back to shore for the next load. The process went on long enough that he forgot to care about the smell or the heat of the water. After a while, he was ready to eat and hoped that Catrina had left to prepare something for them all.
But when he looked up, he saw something he never expected to see. Catrina stood in the stagnant water. The warm green liquid lapped around her calves as she waded toward him. Each step looked like an act of will. Her face had become a mask of concentration and suppressed disgust.
“Catrina! What in heaven’s name are you doing?”
“My part.”
“This is ridiculous!”
Gertrud straightened up and stared. She shrugged and stooped again to push the flax beneath the water. “It’s only right that she does her part. Especially after she caused us to tarry this morning.”
Catrina swallowed. She said nothing as she took another slow, painful step.
Eli did not know what to do. He could see her misery deepen as the water did. But worse than seeing her in the sludge was hearing Gertrud’s words. They were true, but there was more than one way to do one’s part. And truly, he would rather have a hot lunch waiting for him right now than to have Catrina help with the retting. What kind of madness was this? Catrina could not bear a spot of mud, much less bathing in pond scum! She had proven herself with the wolf. This was asking too much. Sure, it was an unpleasant job for him, but for Catrina it must be downright unbearable.
He would say something. He had to. But he felt frozen in place as the water sloshed around Gertrud’s arms and her face took on a stony, unreachable expression. How could he appease two people he loved without hurting either one? Eli opened his mouth to say something, anything.
“Gertie, what’s the matter with you?” Abram asked. Eli closed his mouth. He waited to hear Gertrud’s reaction. Her face shot up. She looked surprised. She was not used to being challenged. Eli realized that he had let her get away with far too much over the last four years, but what else could he do? Abram was right to challenge her. Eli only wished that he had said something first.
“You don’t want to eat?” Abram’s voice boomed across the water.
Gertrud’s mouth tightened. “What kind of question is that?”
“One that deserves an answer.”
“Ach.” Gertrud shook her head and dropped a stone atop a bundle of flax. The water splashed upward and splattered her face. She frowned and wiped her lips with her sleeve.
“Dinner isn’t going to cook itself,” Abram said. “And I for one would like to eat today.”
“Eating is all you want to do any day.”
Abram smiled. “I have my priorities straight.”
Gertrud shook her head.
“I suppose you will take care of it, then?”
“Take care of what?” Gertrud pushed a strand of hair beneath her prayer kappe. Her fingers left a wet streak across the white linen.
“Dinner.”
“I most certainly will not.”
Abram shrugged. “Then you will not eat.”
“Ach.” Gertrud shook her head again.
“Well, go on then.” Abram made a shooing motion with his hand.
“I have no intention of wasting the day breathing in wood smoke and stirring a pot when I can be working outside in the sunshine, getting something accomplished.”
“Funny, I thought that getting dinner was an accomplishment. Can’t eat otherwise.”
“You know what I mean.”
Abram raised his eyebrows.
“Accomplishing something worthwhile,” Gertrud said.
“Ah, yes. Because eating is not worthwhile.”
“Abram Ziegler, that is enough.”
Eli cleared his throat. He needed to say something now, before Abram said it all for him. He was torn between loyalties, but dash it all, his wife came first. He plunged ahead. No one spoke to his wife that way, not even Gertie. “It will be enough when . . .” Eli lost his grip on the stone in his hand. It slid into the pond and water splashed his face. He sputtered and spit. He felt sick and spit again. He wiped his face with his sleeve. “I was saying—”
But Abram did not give him a chance to finish. He and Gertrud were staring at each other without any thought of Eli. “It will be enough when you apologize to Catrina,” Abram said. Abram’s voice softened as he spoke, but the words cut off Eli, nonetheless. Eli groaned inside. Now he had done it. He had missed the chance to defend his wife!
“Ja.” Eli nodded as he wiped his face again. “I was just about to say . . .” But no one was listening to him. They had not even noticed he had tried to speak at all. “Abram’s right.” He raised his voice so that everyone would hear. “I was just about to say that.” Abram and Gertrud still did not notice him. Their eyes stayed locked on one another.
Catrina’s eyes cut to Eli, but the look of hurt on her face clamped his mouth shut. Eli ran his fingers through his hair. It did not matter what he had been about to say. He had not said it first. That was all Catrina saw. She did not see that his heart had leapt to defend her. That he had been about to defend her, despite his duty toward Gertrud. If only he had not hesitated. If only he had not been so rattled that he let the rock slip from his fingers. He was a clumsy oaf. A failure. He wanted to tell Catrina all that he was thinking. He did not. How could he possibly explain?
Gertrud’s mouth opened, then closed again. She was still staring at Abram.
“You know I’m right, Gertie.” Abram’s voice remained soft, but his eyes held a seriousness that could not be ignored.
“Humph.”
“Catrina’s sick with worry over something—that’s why she tarried this morning. I wonder if you know what that worry could be?” Abram rubbed his hand across his mouth. “Surely it could not be your lack of approval?”
Gertrud’s eyes snapped to his. “You go too far.”
“Do I?” Abram shrugged. “A little appreciation seems perfectly reasonable to me.”
“Why should I appreciate you?”
Abram smiled. “You know I’m talking about Catrina.”
Gertrud raised her chin. She swallowed and smoothed her prayer kappe. “All right. Fine. You win. I acquiesce that you have a point. Perhaps it isn’t a reasonable or valid point, but it is a point, nonetheless.”
“Gertrud.”
“Oh, fine.” Gertrud spun around and stared at Catrina. “I apologize. Would you please go get dinner?”
“And?” Abram gave a half smile. He looked as if he were enjoying this.
“And I appreciate your cooking.”
“Bravo!” Abram grinned. “Now, was that so hard?”
Judging by Gertrud’s expression, it had been very hard indeed.
* * *
Catrina did not want to talk to Eli on the way home. It was becoming more and more difficult to understand why he refused to defend her. She appreciated that Abram did, but it almost made the situation more painful. Abram’s concern highlighted Eli’s lack thereof.
She stole a glance at Eli as they cut across a field of barley. The setting sun highlighted his red hair. A warm breeze rippled through the barley stalks to transform the field into a river of golden waves. The scene could have been idyllic. But Eli’s face looked pinched and he refused to meet her gaze. What was the matter with him? Was he upset with her? Was he disappointed that he had married her? Was that why he always looked at his sister with that resigned expression? Had he come to agree with Gertrud?
Catrina’s heart caught in her chest when she realized that Eli’s expression was one of regret. Did Eli regret marrying her? She felt a cold, hard shiver run up her spine. She knew what would make him regret marrying her. Had he learned the truth? Was that the cause of his long, painful silences and downcast eyes?
She would have to ask him. No, she could not do that. Too much time had passed. How could she explain why she had kept her secret for days after they had married? That was the problem with secrets. The longer they stood between two people the more powerful they became.
Catrina glanced behind her. Gertrud was just out of earshot. Catrina turned back to Eli. This was her chance. She would test the waters. “Truth is never easy, is it?” Catrina said to him in a low voice.
Eli swallowed. “No.”
“But it is the only way.”
Eli nodded but did not meet her eyes. Catrina waited for him to respond. Perhaps he would take the hint and tell her what he knew. She did not want to have to say it first. “There is something that I have not spoken to you about . . . something that should have been told before we married,” Eli said after a long pause. His face twitched. “It has created a barrier between us.”
He did know. She was surprised at his calm. But then again, sometimes a hard calm was the most difficult response to bear. Catrina’s father had been terribly calm before he banished her from his home forever. People were often at their cruelest when they were calm. Catrina would rather see an outburst of emotions, which burned out as quickly as a flash fire, than a decisive calm.
But Eli was not cruel. It was not in his nature. That was one reason why she loved him. Then how could he be so calm right now? Perhaps it was resignation. She glanced behind them again. Gertrud was still out of earshot. Catrina put a hand on Eli’s elbow. She took a deep, unsteady breath and chose to trust him. “It does not have to create a barrier.”
Eli laughed. Something in that laugh made Catrina’s stomach turn. She recognized the anger, regret, and pain inside the bitter chuckle. It was a sound that she never thought she’d hear from Eli’s mouth. “Then you do not understand,” he said.
Catrina’s hand fell from Eli’s arm. Her body felt cold. Could this really be happening? After all that she had overcome? Could Eli—her loving, thoughtful Eli—condemn her? “I understand more than you know,” she said softly. “I understand that a single mistake can cost a lifetime of regret.”
Eli’s face hardened. It was not an expression that suited him. His eyes were made to sparkle. His lips were made to smile. Catrina wished that she had not started the conversation. But it was too late now. She had to see it through, for better or worse. Eli’s gaze stayed on the distant tree line. His jaw clenched and unclenched in a tight rhythm. Catrina could not bear to wait for what he was going to say. She could not bear to hear what he would say, either. She waited with her heart in her throat. “You should not have married me,” he said at last.
Catrina felt as if she had been punched in the gut. That one, simple sentence was the most painful thing that she had ever experienced. Her Eli was not her Eli. He did not want her after all. He did not defend her because she was not worth defending. All of her fears had come true. All of her bravado, her belief in redemption, her hope that she could start anew—all of it evaporated. She would have to continue to pay the price for her fall. And oh, what a heavy price it was. Catrina swallowed. She smoothed the front of her bodice and straightened her sleeve. “No,” she said in a very quiet voice. “I should not have. I am sorry that I did.” There, she had said it. She had admitted how wrong she had been to marry him while keeping a secret from him. And now, she would have to pay.