but at least she didn’t lock Caroline and the children out.
The Graeber kitchen was huge and smelled of smoldering ashes and Beata’s before-church baking. One side of the room faced the east and had two double windows to catch the morning sun. There was a trestle table in front of one of the windows and a paneled chest-settle near the huge diagonal fireplace. The fire had been banked, but it still gave off some warmth. Caroline walked with the children to the settle, needing desperately to sit down again. She began to help them take off their coats. She felt so ill at ease here. Everywhere she looked reminded her of Ann. Ann’s punched tin sewing box, the one decorated with sunbursts, sat on a smalltable by the settle. Their own mother’s English Stafford-shire china filled the corner cupboard. The numerous bright blue and white dishes had been Ann’s only wedding gift of any value from the Holt side of the family. And how Caroline hated seeing them in Beata’s kitchen. Ann’s heavy oak rocking chair still sat in the same corner. The back of the chair was decorated with carved roses. It had been a wedding present from Frederich, and Ann had always sat in it to feed her babies. It surprised Caroline that Beata had kept it.
There was no pig iron stove in the kitchen, only an iron box oven that sat directly on the hearth. Ann had wanted a real stove so badly. She had never really learned how to cook in the fireplace where everything had to be done over open flames or buried in hot coals. Once, she’d even set her skirts on fire.
Eli came in and began to light the oil lamps that hung on S hooks from the exposed overhead beams. She could see the room better now. The rest of the walls were lined with dressers for dishes and pots she didn’t quite remember. And there were several churns sitting about, and some small three-legged stools in the corners. One bare brick wall had been sponge painted with white lead. She had to grudgingly admit that Beata, for all her ill-tempered ways, kept a spotless house.
Eli moved from lamp to lamp, glancing at her from time to time as if he expected her to cry or run or both. He seemed to have taken over the task of acting as her champion, but she wished that he wouldn’t stare at her so. She was dangerously close to tears again.
I can’t live here with Frederich, she thought, but it wasn’t living with him that troubled her. The Graeber farm was twice the size she was used to. There would be more than enough chores for her and Beata to do. She could easily stay out of his way during the day, but what would she do at night?
Tonight?
She tried to find the numbness she’d felt earlier this morning, but it had been replaced by a kind of mindless panic. She was trapped, and the sun was going down. She had no night things. No dressing gown. No way to hide from her new bridegroom. She had only the clothes she’d arrived in. She glanced at Eli as he lit the last lamp. Perhaps he could help her. Perhaps she could just say it.
Eli, I’m afraid!
He left the kitchen for a moment and came back with a brimming pitcher of milk. Then he motioned for her and the children to come to the table. She got up reluctantly, while he found three large tin cups and filled them with milk. Then he disappeared into the pantry and returned with several pieces of cold corn bread.
“Beata doesn’t cook when she’s angry,” Lise said as if she thought Caroline needed some kind of explanation.
Caroline gave a resigned sigh. In that case, it might be months before Beata prepared another meal for this household.
“Sit,” Eli said, pulling out a chair.
Caroline hesitated, then sat down in the heavy Carver chair he wanted her to take, hoping that he wasn’t giving her Beata’s seat. All she needed was for Beata to come downstairs and find Caroline Holt sitting in her place.
Caroline Holt Graeber.
“Trink, Caroline,” Eli said, holding a cup of milk out to her.
She didn’t want to drink. She
The Graeber kitchen was huge and smelled of smoldering ashes and Beata’s before-church baking. One side of the room faced the east and had two double windows to catch the morning sun. There was a trestle table in front of one of the windows and a paneled chest-settle near the huge diagonal fireplace. The fire had been banked, but it still gave off some warmth. Caroline walked with the children to the settle, needing desperately to sit down again. She began to help them take off their coats. She felt so ill at ease here. Everywhere she looked reminded her of Ann. Ann’s punched tin sewing box, the one decorated with sunbursts, sat on a smalltable by the settle. Their own mother’s English Stafford-shire china filled the corner cupboard. The numerous bright blue and white dishes had been Ann’s only wedding gift of any value from the Holt side of the family. And how Caroline hated seeing them in Beata’s kitchen. Ann’s heavy oak rocking chair still sat in the same corner. The back of the chair was decorated with carved roses. It had been a wedding present from Frederich, and Ann had always sat in it to feed her babies. It surprised Caroline that Beata had kept it.
There was no pig iron stove in the kitchen, only an iron box oven that sat directly on the hearth. Ann had wanted a real stove so badly. She had never really learned how to cook in the fireplace where everything had to be done over open flames or buried in hot coals. Once, she’d even set her skirts on fire.
Eli came in and began to light the oil lamps that hung on S hooks from the exposed overhead beams. She could see the room better now. The rest of the walls were lined with dressers for dishes and pots she didn’t quite remember. And there were several churns sitting about, and some small three-legged stools in the corners. One bare brick wall had been sponge painted with white lead. She had to grudgingly admit that Beata, for all her ill-tempered ways, kept a spotless house.
Eli moved from lamp to lamp, glancing at her from time to time as if he expected her to cry or run or both. He seemed to have taken over the task of acting as her champion, but she wished that he wouldn’t stare at her so. She was dangerously close to tears again.
I can’t live here with Frederich, she thought, but it wasn’t living with him that troubled her. The Graeber farm was twice the size she was used to. There would be more than enough chores for her and Beata to do. She could easily stay out of his way during the day, but what would she do at night?
Tonight?
She tried to find the numbness she’d felt earlier this morning, but it had been replaced by a kind of mindless panic. She was trapped, and the sun was going down. She had no night things. No dressing gown. No way to hide from her new bridegroom. She had only the clothes she’d arrived in. She glanced at Eli as he lit the last lamp. Perhaps he could help her. Perhaps she could just say it.
Eli, I’m afraid!
He left the kitchen for a moment and came back with a brimming pitcher of milk. Then he motioned for her and the children to come to the table. She got up reluctantly, while he found three large tin cups and filled them with milk. Then he disappeared into the pantry and returned with several pieces of cold corn bread.
“Beata doesn’t cook when she’s angry,” Lise said as if she thought Caroline needed some kind of explanation.
Caroline gave a resigned sigh. In that case, it might be months before Beata prepared another meal for this household.
“Sit,” Eli said, pulling out a chair.
Caroline hesitated, then sat down in the heavy Carver chair he wanted her to take, hoping that he wasn’t giving her Beata’s seat. All she needed was for Beata to come downstairs and find Caroline Holt sitting in her place.
Caroline Holt Graeber.
“Trink, Caroline,” Eli said, holding a cup of milk out to her.
She didn’t want to drink. She
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