At the sound of sleigh bells in the distance, Karla poured a steaming cup of coffee into a heavy tin cup and set it on the counter near the back door before she donned her cloak. “I’m guessing Brother Schermer wasn’t pleased he had to put runners on the wagon this morning before he started the bread deliveries.”
Irma shrugged. “Ja, well, maybe he anticipated the snow and got the runners on last night. Even your Vater predicted we would have snow when we got up this morning.” She glanced up from the stove. “Your Vater was also pleased to see that Frank had risen earlier than him and cleared the porch and walkway of snow.” When Karla didn’t immediately comment, her mother frowned. “You don’t think it was nice of him?”
“Ja, of course it was nice of him, Mutter.”
The curt reply caused her mother’s frown to deepen. “You got up on the wrong side of the bed, ja?”
“Nein.” She forced a grin and tapped a finger to her lips while pulling her hood atop her crown of soft brown hair, which still bore a few stubborn streaks of sun-kissed blond. “See? I’m happy.”
Her mother flitted her hand in a dismissive gesture. “You don’t fool me. Something makes you unhappy.”
Without waiting for any further comment, Karla pushed down on the heavy metal door latch and picked up the cup of coffee with her other hand. All thoughts of her mother’s comments about Frank left her mind as a blast of cold air whipped at her cloak and tossed her hood backward. The freezing wind cut through her clothing, and she quickened her step. Brother Schermer had already jumped down from the bread wagon and opened the back doors.
“Guten Morgen, Sister Karla. It is a cold morning, for sure.” He slapped his gloved hands together in an effort to ward off the freezing temperatures. “You need help to carry the bread?”
She didn’t miss the look in his eye. He wanted to be on his way as much as she wanted to return inside. “Nein, but thank you for the offer.” She extended the cup of coffee. “I hope it isn’t already cold.”
He took a quick gulp then placed the cup on the bed of the wagon. “It is still gut and warm. Danke.” Arching forward, he leaned inside the wagon and removed one of the bread trays and placed the empty tin cup from yesterday beside one of the crusty loaves. After handing her the tray, he picked up the cup of coffee and downed another gulp. “Warms the insides.” He grinned and patted his stomach. The wool fabric stretched taut between the coat buttons and exaggerated his expansive girth. “You’re kind to always bring me my coffee—and to remember that I like it with a little sugar. I think you’re the sweetest girl in all of South. Some man will be lucky to take you for a wife.”
His words warmed Karla as much as any cup of coffee on this cold winter morning. “It is my pleasure, Brother Schermer.” A bittersweet feeling poured over her. She’d never be anyone’s wife—especially Frank’s. He had moved on with Gerta. She’d seen it with her own eyes.
He grinned and tipped his hat before he hoisted himself onto the wagon seat and took up the leather reins. Before she’d opened the kitchen door, the sound of sleigh bells jangled their tune in the still morning air. Keeping her attention focused on the braided rug inside the kitchen door, she wiped the snow from her shoes. Slick soles that could cause her to fall and send the bread flying across the kitchen floor would not fare well with her mother.
Her hands tightened on the tray when a pair of men’s shoes suddenly appeared just beyond the edge of the braided rug—shoes that were all too familiar. In fact, she didn’t need to look up—she knew both the shoes and the outstretched hands offering to take the tray of bread belonged to Frank. Apparently he was determined to further endear himself to her mother. After last night, she refused to believe it had anything to do with her.
Without asking, he took the bread tray from her arms. “We missed you skating at the pond.” He placed the tray on the wooden worktable as she removed her cloak. “I was surprised that Antje decided to attend rather than work on her wedding quilt.”
Several strands of graying hair slipped from beneath her mother’s dark cap when she shook her head. “Karla didn’t need to remain behind, but she has decided she should no longer take pleasure in life. She wants to be like some of the men in the Bible—what is that word?”
Frank arched his brows. “Holy?”
Her mother laughed. “Nein, not holy.” She slapped her palm to her head. “Martyr. That’s the word. Karla wants to behave like a martyr and never have any fun.”
Anger and embarrassment joined together and formed a tight knot in the pit of Karla’s stomach. She crossed the kitchen in long strides and rested her palms on her hips. “That isn’t true, Mutter. I agreed to help Antje finish her quilts, and that’s what I’m doing.
I don’t think of myself as a martyr, but as someone who’s keeping her word.”
Frank cleared his throat. “I apologize. I didn’t mean for my comment to cause a problem.”
“No need to blame yourself, Frank. Karla and I have had this same talk before. She never wants to have any fun.”
“That isn’t true, Mutter. I enjoy having fun as much as anyone else.” Karla tightened her jaw as she began to slice thick pieces of bread. “Besides, you know that I went down to the pond after all.”
“You did?” Frank followed her to the table. “Why didn’t you come find me? I was all alone.”
“You didn’t seem alone to me,” Karla whispered.
Frank answered in low tones. “Are you talking about Gerta? She latched onto me, but I made it clear I’m not interested in her.” Frank held out his hands, palms upward. “You believe me, ja?”
“It makes no difference if I believe you or not. You can do as you want.”
“In that case—” Frank folded his arms across his chest. “Since you still like to have fun, Sister Karla, you should happily agree to attend the taffy pull with me next week.”
“I—I—it depends on how much work must be completed on the quilt, and there are the Christmas decorations that must be unpacked, and baking for the holiday, and …”
“We have always managed to accomplish all of those things in the past, Karla,” her mother said. “If you go to the taffy pull, I’m sure we will still be able to celebrate Christmas. And if the quilt isn’t finished in time for the wedding, Antje will need to permit some of the other ladies to help complete the task, or better yet, work on it herself.”
“I will help with the Christmas decorations if that will convince you to join us.” Frank leaned his tall frame against one of the worktables and looked down at her. “What do you say? Will you attend?”
Between her mother and Frank, she’d been artfully cornered. There seemed to be no excuse—yet she might think of something between now and then. She offered a broad smile. “I hope you won’t mind if I ask you to wait until next Monday for my answer. You would still have more than enough time to invite someone else, like Sister Gerta, if I cannot attend.”
He uncrossed his arms and moved away from the worktable. “I have no interest in asking someone else, but if it will make you happy to wait until Monday before you answer, then I will wait until Monday.”
“Guten Morgen, Brother Frank.” Antje strolled into the kitchen and casually poured herself a cup of coffee.
“And what have you been doing all this time?” Irma asked. “Did you forget we have breakfast to serve?”
Antje glanced at her mother. “I went to look at my quilt. Did you know Karla finished it last evening?”
Irma quirked an eyebrow at Karla. “Truly? Then it seems you have no more excuses.”
“I was speaking of Antje’s second quilt. We haven’t even begun to work on it yet.”
“There is more than enough time to complete it before Antje’s wedding. If not, she will have only one quilt and that will be her concern, not yours, ja?” Without waiting for an answer, her mother turned toward Karla’s sister and pointed to the stove. “Antje, you should begin to fry the bacon, or breakfast will be late. Your Vater won’t be happy and neither will our guests.”
Frank’s gaze lingered on Karla. “If you decide you want to attend the taffy pull, please don’t think you must wait until Monday to tell me.” He gestured toward the dining room. “I think I should move out of the kitchen. I don’t want to be in the way.”
Her sister did a skipping sidestep across the kitchen. “What is this I’m hearing? Frank has invited you to the taffy pull?”
Karla sighed. Now that Antje knew of Frank’s invitation, she would be like a dog after a bone—determined to convince Karla she should go with Frank. Trying to distance herself from the possibility, Karla started toward the dining room to set the table but stopped short when she caught sight of Frank visiting with one of the hotel guests. What if he spoke of the taffy pull in front of the guest?
Antje gently tapped Karla’s arm. “You’re keeping secrets from me.”
Karla swiped at her sister’s hand. “I am not keeping secrets. You already know Frank invited me. You heard what he said.”
“Antje! The bacon!” Their mother pointed to the stove. “While you two argue, the bacon is burning.”
Karla stepped to the worktable, where she picked up the sharp bread knife and cut thick slices of the crusty white and rye loaves.
Her moment of thankfulness was short-lived however. Once their mother was out of earshot, Antje glanced over her shoulder and pointed the meat fork in Karla’s direction. “Tell me why Frank must wait until Monday for an answer from you.”
“Because there may be other things I need to do other than go to a taffy pull. Christmas will soon be here. If you must know, I have gifts I need to complete.”
“I would rather have you attend the taffy pull than worry over a Christmas gift for me.”
“I didn’t say the gift was for you, and I don’t need you to make my decisions.”
Antje forked the bacon onto a platter. “Well, I can tell you that there is at least one other young woman who would be pleased to have Frank escort her to the taffy pull.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of single women who would be pleased to have his company. I’m not competing with any of them.”
The grease popped and sizzled as Antje placed strips of raw bacon in the hot skillet. “If you’re wise, you will go to that taffy pull. You should have been ice-skating with us last night. Gerta Schiffer couldn’t get close enough to Frank the whole evening. Every time I looked around, she was either sitting beside him near the fire or skating with him.”
Jealousy pinged through Karla’s chest. Should she tell Antje she had seen Frank with Gerta last night? For a moment, Karla considered confiding in her sister but stopped herself. Right now, she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit how she was feeling—not even to Antje. “I’m sure they had a nice time. Gerta is a sweet young lady, and it sounds as though Frank found her to be gut company. Otherwise he would not have pursued her attention.”
The bacon grease popped, and Antje jumped backward, but not in time to miss being spattered. She swiped the back of her hand down her apron. “Frank didn’t pursue her! When did I ever say that? You’re putting words in my mouth. I said that Gerta clung to Frank’s side all evening. But mark my words, some girl will sweep him up sooner or later, and if you love him, you’ll start encouraging his attentions.”
Love him? The thought made her insides turn to jelly. She didn’t—she couldn’t possibly—she didn’t dare let herself—love him. Loving someone could eventually lead to being hurt, and she couldn’t let that happen again.
The bacon popped again, and Antje cried out while shaking her hand in the air.
“I will take care of the bacon. You need to dip your hand in cold water before it blisters.” Karla stepped to the stove and took the meat fork from her sister.
“You would not believe what else Gerta did.” Antje looked over her shoulder at Karla while she submerged her hand in a pan of cold water.
Karla lifted the pieces of bacon onto the platter. “If you intend to keep up this talk of Gerta and Frank, maybe you should go outside and put your hand in the snow. That would for sure prevent blisters, and it would give my ears a rest from your constant chatter.”
“What are you doing over at the sink, Antje? You’re supposed to be frying the bacon.” Mother sighed and shook her head. “I cannot leave this kitchen for a minute.”
“I burned my hand, Mutter. I have been telling Karla she should go to the taffy pull with Frank before Sister Gerta wins his heart.”
“I don’t think we need to worry about such things while we are cooking breakfast.”
“Danke, Mutter. I couldn’t agree more.” Karla gave her sister a smug grin.
Her mother nodded but then stopped short. “What has Frank said that makes you think he is interested in Sister Gerta?”
Karla wanted to run from the room. Just when she thought her mother had taken her side, she asked a question about Frank and Gerta. “It isn’t important, Mutter.”
“Ja, it is important.” Antje dried her hand on a soft towel as she crossed the room. “Sister Gerta invited Frank to the taffy pull. I heard her with my own ears. Can you believe she would do such a thing?”
“Nein—that is not proper.” Their mother perched her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Sister Gerta knows better than to ask a man to escort her. What was she thinking?”
“I’ll tell you what she was thinking.” Antje directed a stern look at her sister. “She was thinking she has no competition for Frank and that he most likely hopes to marry soon. Unlike Karla, Gerta wanted to make sure Frank knew she was interested in his attention.”
Their mother turned toward Karla. “Well, he must not be too interested in her since he invited our Karla to go with him.”
Karla’s stomach lurched. The pride in her mother’s voice set off a warning signal as loud as a rumbling train. This conversation needed to stop before her mother and Antje began plans for a double wedding. “Enough! If I hear another word about Frank, Gerta, or taffy, I’m leaving, and you’ll have to serve breakfast without my help.”
Frank had hoped Karla would have a change of heart and tell him she would be pleased to accompany him to the taffy pull. Instead, she did everything possible to keep distance between them. After going to bed the past several nights, he’d tried to recall what he might have done to cause an even greater chasm in their friendship.
He turned when the bell over the apothecary door jangled and was surprised to see Antje step inside. She shivered and shook the light layer of snow from her cloak before she crossed the room.
Frank tensed, immediately concerned Karla might be ill. “Someone is sick at the hotel?”
Antje shook her head. “Nein. One of the guests asked for headache powders, and we didn’t have any. Mutter asked if I would stop and get some from you.”
As the tension in his shoulders eased, he smiled. “I wish your Mutter would have sent Karla. Not that I don’t enjoy visiting with you, but …”
“You don’t need to explain, Brother Frank. I know you’re waiting for my sister to accept your invitation. I’ve done everything I can to encourage her,” Antje said. “Unfortunately, I think my efforts have had the opposite effect.”
He lifted an amber-colored bottle from the shelf and placed it on the counter. “What do you mean? What could you say that would discourage her from accepting?”
Antje inhaled a deep breath and related the conversation they’d had in the kitchen the day after they’d gone ice-skating. “I thought if I told Karla about Sister Gerta being interested in you, she would be jealous and agree to go with you.”
His stomach clenched and his fingers trembled while he poured some of the powder onto a small white paper and folded the edges together. How he wished Antje hadn’t interfered—and yet he knew her intentions were good. She wanted nothing more than to help him win her sister’s heart. “I don’t think trying to make Karla jealous will work. She has been hurt once, and if she believes I could be swayed by someone else, she will never trust me.”
“It seems you know her better than me. She said that Sister Gerta is a very nice young woman and that the two of you would make a gut match.” Antje slapped her gloved hand on the counter. “Sometimes she makes me furious. I’m sure she cares for you, but she is afraid of being hurt again. I’ve tried and tried to think of something that will change her way of thinking, but I’m at a loss.”
“Only God can help me.”
“But the Lord helps those who help themselves, ja? How will she learn to trust you if she will not spend time with you?”
Frank handed Antje the packet of headache powders. “Don’t worry, Antje. I won’t let her go that easily.”