Hope at Dawn (20 page)

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Authors: Stacy Henrie

Tags: #Fiction, #Christian, #Romance, #Religious, #Western, #Sagas, #Historical, #General

BOOK: Hope at Dawn
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“Bye, Miss Campbell,” Harlan said. He and Greta were the last to leave. “I like your drawing. That’s me and Greta, huh? And Friedrick?”

“Yes, it is.” Livy climbed to her feet. “Is Friedrick coming to pick you up today?”

She knew the answer before Harlan shook his head. If Friedrick had meant to come, he would have already arrived. Sharp disappointment mingled with her tiredness. Another day without seeing him. “Is he fully recovered yet?”

Harlan’s nose wrinkled in thought. “I guess so. He won’t let Mama make him stay in bed anymore.”

“That’s a good sign,” Livy said with forced merriment. Knowing Friedrick felt better and hadn’t come to see her caused a dull ache to form in her middle. “Has he had lots of visitors?”

Greta took up the narrative. “Not really, but Maria’s come by a few times. Mama says that’s ’cause she likes him.”

Harlan made a face, which made Livy laugh, despite the jealousy she felt at the mention of Maria. “What’s the matter, Harlan? Don’t you like Maria?”

“I don’t know. She’s kind of bossy, always makin’ us leave the room when she comes over.” His boyish face brightened a moment later. “But Friedrick usually figures out a way to have us come back in.”

Good.
A twinge of guilt made Livy take the thought back. She wanted Friedrick to be happy.

“You two better run along now. Your mother will be expecting you.”

The pair waved good-bye and raced outside. The click of the door sounded loud in the silent room. Livy called on the last shreds of her energy to sweep the floor, straighten the desks, and gather the written assignments the students had done before leaving. When she reached Harlan’s desk, she discovered he’d left behind the book she’d loaned him from her own collection.

“Oh well, I’ll see he gets it tomorrow,” she murmured to herself. She’d been doing that more and more the last few days. Without Friedrick to talk to or care for, the loneliness pressed in on her again. Only the sound of a human voice, even her own, seemed to hold it at bay.

What would she do when Friedrick did return to his job at the school? They couldn’t go back to simply being friends, not after the familiarity they’d shared during his illness.

It hadn’t taken Livy long after Friedrick’s recovery to realize that she yearned to be more than friends with him. Especially when he’d taken her wrist in his firm grip and asked her what she wanted. She’d been about to tell him the truth—that she wanted him for a beau—when the Kellers had interrupted.

Livy shook her head at her own foolishness. She’d have to be content with being Friedrick’s friend and nothing more. How could they be anything else, with so many people watching and their jobs in jeopardy should they make one false move?

Had coming to Hilden really been the answer to her problems all those weeks ago? she wondered as she divided up the written compositions by grade level. Or had this job simply created new challenges in her life?

At the sound of boots against the floorboards, Livy lifted her head. She hadn’t heard the door open. Perhaps Harlan had returned for his book.

“Did you come back for your—” The words stuck in her throat when she turned and found Friedrick standing at the back of the room. Her heart drummed faster at seeing him again. He looked so tall and healthy and handsome. “I…um…thought you were Harlan. I loaned him a book, but he forgot it.”

She faced her desk again, her back to Friedrick. She had to hide from those intense blue eyes. If she didn’t, she feared she’d run straight into his arms and ruin everything she’d worked so hard for. She plucked up the remaining stack of papers and continued her sorting.

“I like all the drawings.”

“They did turn out well, didn’t they?” She glanced at the one she’d drawn of him. Had he noticed? Would he approve or be embarrassed, especially if he still harbored feelings for Maria? “I thought they might take the place of Mr. Foster’s poster. Show we’re still patriotic here…”

Friedrick made no reply, and the ensuing quiet thundered as loudly in her ears as her pulse. “Harlan said you were feeling better.” Her high-pitched voice betrayed her nervousness. “Did they know you were coming by? I would have had them stay.”

“I passed them on the way.” He sounded closer, though Livy hadn’t heard his footsteps. “I had to see about a few things here first.”

Livy read the name on the paper in her hand twice before she was able to set it in its proper pile. “I won’t be in your way; I’m almost finished.” She didn’t want him to feel obligated to talk to her simply because she was there. “Once I’m done sorting these papers, I need to clean my cabin. I scrubbed this place spotless so we could reopen it today. But my own house still needs a good…”

Her senseless chatter faded into silence when she felt his hands on her shoulders. His breath brushed the back of her neck, causing gooseflesh to run along her arms. She shivered and clutched the stack of papers tightly to her chest, the edges biting into her fingers. Maybe that would stop her heart from racing.

“I’ve missed you, Livy,” Friedrick murmured against her hair.

“I haven’t gone anywhere.” The accusation didn’t sound as angry as she’d meant it, but she was having difficulty thinking. Especially with him standing so close she could feel his strong chest against her back. She needed to stop swooning over him. What if someone saw them? She didn’t want to lose her job and never see him again, even if staying meant pretending to be nothing more than friends.

“Why didn’t you come sooner?” she asked softly as she turned to face him. Friedrick lowered his hands to his sides, but his tender gaze still held her captive and made her gulp.

“I would have, but regaining my strength took longer than I’d thought. Then there was spring planting to be done.” He lifted his thumb and stroked her cheek. The action sparked a memory. Livy had been half-asleep, but she’d felt his caress on her face and lower lip the day he’d recovered. His touch felt as wonderful today as it had then. “I’m here now and there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Me, too.”

He chuckled. The low sound sent a quiver of anticipation through her middle. “You first.”

Livy took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. The words would come easier if she couldn’t see his handsome face. “I hope you and Maria will be happy.”

“Me and Maria?” Friedrick tilted her chin upward, forcing her to look at him. She had to remind herself not to get lost in the blueness of his eyes, which had deepened to the color of twilight. “What are you talking about?”

She blinked, trying to remember. “Harlan…he told me Maria’s come to visit several times. I’m sure Elsa approves of her…” Livy couldn’t make herself say “more than me.”

“You think I like Maria?” He laughed softly again, the warmth of his breath feathering her cheeks.

“Yes,” Livy whispered, though the admission sounded foolish given the way Friedrick was smiling at her. “Er…maybe?”

She swallowed hard as his expression changed from amusement to somberness. He cupped her face between his hands and eyed her mouth. Livy’s heart hurtled against her ribs; she couldn’t seem to get a proper breath. Her eyes fell shut as Friedrick brought his lips down on hers—gently at first, then firmly. His kiss created a wellspring of emotion within her—happiness, safety, fear, joy.

When Friedrick stepped back, Livy sat down hard on the edge of the desk, her fingers straying to her mouth. Her lips still tingled from his touch. “So you…don’t like Maria?”

He tugged the stack of papers from her grip and set them on the desk, then he helped her to her feet. His hands went to her waist and he drew her closer. “I am not, nor have I ever been, in love with Maria Schmitt. She is a charming, pretty girl. But she’s not you. I told her as much before you and I went dancing. Her visits this last week have meant nothing to me.”

“Really?” Livy didn’t care that the word came out breathless. Friedrick cared as much for her as she did for him? The joyful realization was short-lived. “But…I don’t see how we can do this, Friedrick.”

“Why not?”

She folded her arms against a sudden shiver and leaned against him. His solid frame erased some of her fears, though not her logic. He wrapped his arms around her. “What about Mr. Foster? Or your mother?” Or her own family?

Would her siblings accept Friedrick as her beau? Would her parents? They’d been courteous to him when he’d driven her home for Tom’s memorial service, but they’d also been in shock. Would they feel differently now?

“You can’t lose your job, and I don’t want to lose mine either.” She couldn’t go home yet, not after realizing how much Friedrick meant to her.

“Livy, look at me.” He released her so she could see his face, though he kept her close, his hands clasping her shoulders. “I care about you—a lot.” He brushed an errant hair off her forehead. The simple gesture renewed the flutters in her stomach. “Somehow we’ll make this work.”

As she peered into his eyes, the deep sincerity reflected there filled and bound up her bruised heart. Here was a man she could trust—a man who would cherish and protect her.

“All right,” she agreed.

Friedrick pulled her toward him and kissed her again. The gentle press of his mouth blocked all other thoughts from her mind, save this moment. Livy wound her hands around his neck as he deepened the kiss.

“Yuck!”

Livy’s eyes flew open at Harlan’s disgusted tone. She jumped back from Friedrick and knocked her legs against her desk.

Friedrick steadied her, then turned toward his brother. “What do you need, Harlan? Is something wrong at home?”

The boy studied the two of them for a moment. “Mama said to come get this.” He crossed to his desk and grabbed the book. “Can I ride back with you, Friedrick?”

“Yes. I’ll be out in a minute. Go wait in the wagon.”

Harlan shot them another puzzled look, then headed back outside.

Livy pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. “That was embarrassing.” Would Harlan tell Greta or Elsa about what he’d seen? Was her and Friedrick’s relationship doomed before it had even begun?

Friedrick lifted one of her hands and ran his finger against the back of her palm. “I don’t think Harlan will say anything.”

“What if it had been someone else who saw us?”

“But it wasn’t.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll be here tomorrow afternoon to finish up the mortar and start on the outhouse.”

She nodded, though she couldn’t keep from biting her cheek in worry.

He pushed her chin up with his knuckle. “We’ll work it out, Livy. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

Livy hesitated. Her heart wanted so desperately to agree with him, while her mind argued the futility of being anything more than friends. But she was tired of letting other people dictate what she ought to do or feel or be. She was the one in charge of her life.

“I will,” she said with conviction.

“Good.” Friedrick smiled and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow,” she echoed.

She watched him leave, hating the idea of so many hours to go before she saw him again. Even then they wouldn’t be alone.

But
we’ll figure things out.
Livy held tightly to Friedrick’s reassurance as the door shut behind him.

F
riedrick plunged his pitchfork into the hay and tossed it from the loft to the ground below. A popular tune ran through his mind—“If You Were the Only Girl In the World.” He sang the words to himself, not caring too much if someone overheard. His voice wasn’t as polished as some, but he’d always enjoyed singing in church.

If you were the only girl in the world

And I were the only boy

Nothing else would matter in the world today

We could go on loving in the same old way

 

A garden of Eden just made for two

With nothing to mar our joy

I would say such wonderful things to you

There would be such wonderful things to do

If you were the only girl in the world

And I were the only boy.

The song adequately described his feelings for Livy. A week without seeing her, while he’d fully recovered from the influenza, had felt like a lifetime. But today he’d not only seen her, he had kissed her. Twice.

Friedrick grinned at the vivid memory of those kisses and the way Livy’s mouth had felt so soft and perfect against his. He felt like the luckiest man in the world to have earned her trust and her heart.

He finished with the hay and left the barn. Blues and golds stained the western sky, pulling Friedrick’s thoughts heavenward. Every day he saw evidence of God in the sky and soil, but today, he felt it inside himself. God had blessed him with life, despite being gravely ill a week ago, and now He’d blessed him again, with Livy.

Friedrick scraped the mud from his boots on the back step and entered the kitchen. “Smells good, Mother. I’m starving.”

She glanced at him from where she stood at the stove, her eyes troubled for a moment. “We will eat very soon. I am just waiting for the bread to finish. Keep reading, Harlan.”

The boy sat at the table, the book from Livy lying open in front of him. Harlan began reading out loud as Friedrick crossed to the sink and washed up.

After a minute or two, Elsa pulled the bread from the oven. “Harlan, will you please get some chokecherry jam from the cellar, then tell your sister it’s time for supper? I believe she’s playing upstairs.”

Harlan grumbled under his breath until Friedrick shot him a pointed look. The boy picked up his book and disappeared out the door, though his loud, stomping footsteps attested to his annoyance.

Friedrick chuckled and went to the cupboard to collect four plates. He set them on the table.

“Did you work at the school this afternoon?” Elsa asked as she arranged the bread loaves on a dish towel.

“I will tomorrow.”

“You drove Harlan home, though, didn’t you?”

He glanced at her, curious as to why she was fishing for information. “I needed to talk to Liv—Miss Campbell. I brought Harlan home after that.”

“Harlan said you and his
teacher
were doing more than talking.”

Friedrick frowned in irritation as he pulled eating utensils from a drawer. “Did Harlan volunteer that particular piece of information?”

Elsa’s heavy sigh filled the room. “I will not lie to you. I had a feeling where you were going and why. So when Harlan mentioned leaving his book behind, I sent him to collect it and see if you were working at the school.”

“You sent Harlan to spy on me?” He stared at her in surprise. What had gotten into Elsa? She hadn’t interfered in his life or questioned his way of doing things for years.

Instead of answering right away, she reached past him to collect four cups. She slammed each one on the table, reminding Friedrick of Harlan just now.

“Don’t you think I know what you are feeling?” She gripped the back of one of the chairs, her voice soft, pleading. “I was young once, too. Don’t you think I know why you have not sought out Maria as she has you?”

Friedrick finished setting the table and put his hand over one of hers. “Then give me your blessing.”

“I can’t.” It was little more than a whisper.

“Why not?” he pressed. “Is it because she isn’t German?”

Elsa’s face flushed pink, but she shook her head. “German, American. It makes no difference—except in time of war. She is not good for you.”

His annoyance festered into full anger, but Friedrick fought to check it. “How can you say that? Livy nursed me while I was on the brink of dying. She chose to stay in that school and care for me, even at the risk of her own life.”

“I know,” Elsa shot back as she lowered her head. “That is what I feared might happen. Don’t you think I have come to love your father even more as I have cared for him these past few years?” She drew in a shaky breath, the threat of tears evident in her voice as she continued. “I do not want to see you hurt, Friedrick. But you cannot be with Miss Campbell. It will not work.”

“Why not? She is the most extraordinary person, and when I’m with her, Mother…” He hazarded a smile. “I feel extraordinary, too.”

“She is a wonderful girl,” Elsa admitted. “But think what would happen if someone found about the two of you—someone who isn’t German?

“She could lose her job, Friedrick. And what would we do if you could no longer work at the school? This job is a gift from God. We cannot take that lightly. How else can we pay for your father’s medicine?”

“Livy and I both know there are complications.” Friedrick placed his hand on Elsa’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “But they aren’t impossible to overcome. You always taught me to do what is right, no matter how difficult.”

Elsa twisted her apron between her fingers. “What if the right thing, this time, is to walk away from her?”

Harlan and Greta raced into the kitchen, bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt and stopping Friedrick from having to answer the probing question. He didn’t agree with Elsa. Surely things would work out all right—that’s what he’d promised Livy.

Friedrick volunteered to be the one to take his father’s tray into him. He no longer had a desire to eat or remain in the tense atmosphere of the kitchen. Some space would do him—and Elsa—some good.

He entered his father’s room and set the tray on the bedside table. His father’s eyes opened as Friedrick took a seat in the nearby chair.

“A pleasant surprise,” Heinrich said, “to dine with my son.”

“Shall I help you or would you like to do it yourself?”

Heinrich’s hands rose, trembling and pale, but he reached for the plate and fork Friedrick held out to him. “It is a good day. I shall do it myself.”

Friedrick set the plate on his father’s blanketed lap and watched as Heinrich scooped a piece of stewed carrot onto his fork. His father lifted it shakily to his lips. Most of the morsel made it inside, but some of it slipped onto his short gray beard.

“I’ll take care of cleanup,” Friedrick offered. He lifted the napkin from the tray and wiped the spill, then he arranged the cloth across his father’s chest.

“Thank you, son.”

Friedrick watched his father for a few moments, wondering how much Heinrich knew of the world outside this room. Had Elsa told him what was happening to their people?

“Elsa is worried about you,” Heinrich said, as though he’d been privy to the conversation in the kitchen just now. “She fears you still wish to fight.”

Friedrick shook his head. “Not overseas, Papa. I am needed here, and this is where I’ll stay.” Especially now that he knew how much Livy cared.

He’d been so full of hope talking with her earlier—he’d convinced her, and himself, everything would be all right for them. Why did the war have to constantly intervene in his life? Why did he feel as if his own freedoms were constantly being threatened, when supposedly the country was fighting to regain freedom for so many others?

“Something on your mind, Friedrick?” Heinrich eyed him with parental concern. He seemed more lucid today than he’d been in months.

Friedrick had a sudden desire to hear his father’s advice—something he hadn’t sought in a long time. “You always taught us to be proud of our heritage, Papa. To stand for what is right and good in this world.”

Heinrich nodded and brought another forkful of food to his mouth.

“What if doing so hurts, rather than helps, those you love?” Friedrick leaned forward, his arms resting on the bed. “What is the right course of action then?”

“Standing for the truth will always come at a price, Friedrick, whether it is being bold and sure or silent and strong. Neither one is easy.” He pinned Friedrick with an intent look. “Only God can tell you which to be.”

Friedrick hung his head. His father’s words echoed what Pastor Schwarz and Peter Hoffmann had already told him. Wasn’t there anyone who would tell him not to yield?

“Perhaps your real question is not
how
to stand for goodness but
when
. Am I right?”

“I suppose,” Friedrick said, lifting his chin.

To Friedrick’s surprise, his father chuckled—the sound of it was like the distant rumbling of thunder. “Remember how impatient you were as a boy? You wanted everything to happen right away, no waiting.” Heinrich smiled. “You would watch the sky for the first snowflakes or a mother cat with her unborn kittens and grow tired when the tiny miracles did not happen immediately. It is not so different now, Friedrick. You want your chance to fight…”

Friedrick sat back in his chair, annoyance lashing through him. He’d just explained his desire was to be here on the farm, instead of at the front lines.

“I do not mean with guns, my son.” His father’s perceptiveness startled Friedrick. Though his body might be weak, Heinrich’s mind was far from it. “I mean fighting for justice and decency and family. It will not happen on your timetable, but it will on God’s. You must wait upon the Lord. You must trust He will guide and mold you to the task. As Elsa always says, the night is longest right before the dawn. But dawn will come, Friedrick, and when it does where, or rather, who will you be standing beside?”

The impassioned speech was the longest Friedrick could recall hearing from his father in some time. Regret cooled his earlier irritation. How much more wisdom did his father have to impart, if Friedrick would seek and listen?

“Thank you, Papa.” He placed his hand over his father’s heavily lined one.

How he’d always looked up to and revered this man. Friedrick would do anything for him and his family, even if it meant he had to go back on what he’d said to Livy this afternoon.

The thought of not being with her—or worse, of hurting her—cut him deeply. Somehow, though, he had to find the courage to let her go and hope someday the world would allow them to be together.

*  *  *

Surely the clock must be broken
, Livy thought with a frown. The minutes had ticked by with painful slowness the entire day, postponing the moment when she’d see Friedrick again.

Concentrating had been a difficult task through nearly every lesson she’d taught. Her mind kept wandering to the memory of Friedrick’s lips against hers, the safety of his arms, the tenderness of his words. When doubts or fears crept in, Livy banished them with reminders of Friedrick’s promise—things would be all right; they’d figure them out together.

At last the clock dictated the end of the school day. Livy announced it was time to leave, her enthusiasm matching her students’
.
Any minute now, Friedrick would be here. She couldn’t wait to see his smile, hear his voice, perhaps steal a kiss or a quick embrace.

Her students rushed out the door, including Harlan and Greta, while Livy hurried to set the classroom to rights. She wanted as much time with Friedrick as possible. The sound of wagon wheels on the dirt road out front sent her pulse pounding at a frenzied pace.

She smoothed her hair and skirt and walked calmly to the door, in direct contrast to the anticipation fluttering inside her. Friedrick was finally here. A day away from him had never felt longer.

Livy stepped outside and stopped short, her smile freezing in place. Mrs. Norton’s daughter, Mrs. Smithson, and two of her children were disembarking from their wagon. It hadn’t been Friedrick after all.

“Mrs. Smithson,” Livy said, doing her best to sound friendly instead of annoyed or surprised. “What brings you out this way?”

The woman had a basket on her arm and a look of pity on her face. Her two children trailed her to the alcove where Livy stood. “Mother and I just can’t seem to get you out of our minds, Livy. We hate thinking of you all alone out here, away from your family, at such a time as this.” She brightened her tone to add, “So I baked you a few goodies to eat.”

“Um…thank you.” Livy threw a furtive glance up the road. Any moment Friedrick would be here, but there’d be no hope of talking to him with Mrs. Smithson hovering about. “That’s very kind of you. Especially to drive all this way.”

Mrs. Smithson waved away her words. “No bother at all—not for a dear old neighbor of Mother’s.”

“Mama,” her son, Timmy, said. “Can I go explore that field?” He pointed to where Harlan and Greta were playing.

His mother immediately frowned. “No, Timmy. You can play right here, while I visit with Miss Campbell.”

“Ah, Ma. There’s no one to play with here.”

“Play with Emmaline.” She gently pushed his sister toward him. “Better her than with those German children,” she added under her breath.

Livy schooled her face to be the picture of calm, despite the anger Mrs. Smithson’s comment inspired. Why did the townspeople have to be so narrow-minded, so ruled by fear? If they would only get to know Friedrick and the other German-American families, she knew they’d come to respect them as she had.

The rumble of another wagon reached her ears. She sensed without looking it was Friedrick. “Would you like to see inside my classroom?” she volunteered. She didn’t want Mrs. Smithson lingering outside, ready to cast insults at Friedrick.

“That would be—”

Emmaline’s startled cry drew their attention. The girl had tripped. Livy bit back a groan as she and Mrs. Smithson moved to the girl’s side.

Mrs. Smithson handed Livy the basket and scooped up her sniffling daughter. “There, there, Emmaline. You’ll be fine.”

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