More of Sophie's adventures in Pennsylvania, and a little more about Karl.
After a couple of agonizingly slow turns around the rose garden, Theodore announced they intended to retire. This sent Sally into another fit of weeping. The surly younger son, after a mumbled "thank-you" and "good-bye," sentiments more suitable for a Sunday dinner than a wedding feast, had hurried to the front hitching post. Throwing himself upon his big chestnut horse, he'd galloped away as if pursued by the devil.
Sophie's heart had been pounding, her palms sweating, when, at last, the bedroom door closed behind them. In German, in a tone more like a sergeant than a husband, Theodore directed her to get undressed and put on the lovely nightgown Aunt Ilga had laid out.
Obediently, Sophie went to the bed by the window and lifted the fine material between trembling fingers. Her husband instantly retreated into an adjacent dressing room.
Her Aunt had explained: "Herr Wildbach believes that sleep is more profound and healthful when a husband and wife occupy separate beds."
Nervously hurrying to obey, Sophie heard the sound of pouring water. Next came the opening and closing of a cupboard door and the tinkle of a stirring spoon. After a few moments of silence in which Theodore was presumably drinking whatever mixture he'd made, he began to move about again. A wardrobe door opened and closed.
What would her ruined friend, Lisel, now left forever behind in Osnabruck, say about the kind of man who takes the time to hang up his pants on his wedding night? Especially a man of fifty-seven, about to possess a twenty-two year old bride?
Sophie began to shiver in earnest.
When Theodore reappeared, he wore a perfectly ironed ankle-length nightshirt, leather slippers and an alarmingly warm expression. He took her hands, and, formally, one at a time, lifted and kissed them.
Beneath that knowing older man's gaze, Sophie lowered her eyes. She felt a flush bathe her, bosom to brow. Theodore bent and kissed Sophie upon the lips. His lips felt cold and dry.
"Now, Frau Wildbach, into your bed."
She could hardly see, but somehow she managed it. When she faced him, clutching the sheet in a death grip, he said in his precise, clipped German, "Don't worry about your marital duties tonight, Frau Wildbach. We'll perform them soon, but I think we should be more at ease with each other first. You will know when the time has come," he instructed, "because I shall join you in bed."
Sophie tried not to look as relieved as she felt, but the reprieve brought her to the brink of tears.
"Mind, my dear girl, don't confide this to anyone, particularly Sally. It is none of her business, though she will try to make it so. She is a typical pushy American.” He shook his head disapprovingly. "I've told George many times that leisure spoils a wife. It only gives them time to meddle where they shouldn't."
Sophie nodded. The dangerous sister-in-law Aunt Ilga had warned her about was maybe not such a threat after all.
"I would not do that, Herr Wildbach," she replied. "Meine Mutter says that words between husband and wife are private."
"Prudent advice," Theodore observed dryly, "but not always easily followed. At least until you have more English, you won't . . . " He paused again, left the sentence trailing. Sophie could not tell if it was discretion he was requesting, or a better command of her new language.
"I am sorry, Herr Wildbach, I do not have better English."
"English is a confusing language. If you want to know something, ask Grete in the kitchen, or me. Divine, the schwarze cook who works for Karl, knows some German, too. She was born in Palatine."
This caused Sophie to raise her eyes in wonder. Herr Wildbach chuckled. "I mean to say that Divine was born in Palatine, Pennsylvania."
"Oh."
Theodore gave her a last long look in which fatherliness and lusty regret uneasily combined. Then he turned on his heel, crossed the room, blew out the lamp and got into his bed, the one close to his dressing chamber.
It took her some time to stop trembling and settle back into the clean, fine linen where she smothered tears of weary gratitude in the pillow.
What a kind, kind man, Sophie thought. Surely, after this, when Herr Theodore came to her bed, she could do what she must without so much fear. Perhaps, even, with a feeling of--if not love--at least gratitude for tonight's supreme charity.
"And you woke up and that was how he was?" Karl kept asking. Sophie had followed him back into the room and stood at the bed's foot. Seeing the body, her teeth began chattering again.
"Ya. Ich kenn nicht maken! I did not know what to do."
Soon the house was in turmoil. People wept, even the servants. Men flocked up from the town below to stand, hats in hand, in the yard. Sophie shed some tears, too, at last, though she'd only known Theodore Wildbach for a brief two days.
She was truly sorry. Theodore had seemed fastidious in every way, a man of his word, and one who had been supremely careful of her feelings. His kindness last night had convinced her that he was—or rather, had been--a good man.
*
The Will was read in a Judge's parlor. Here, from a seat beside her tight-lipped Aunt, Sophie learned that it had not been altered to include her. A codicil had been drawn, the Judge apologetically explained, but not yet signed. This left George and Sally possession of the great house on the hill, the general store, some railway stock, and undisclosed sums lodged in Cincinnati banks.
The judge read on: "I bequeath the sum of $600 and title to the mill, commonly known as German's Mill, as well as the attached house, barn and 3 acres, to my son Karl Joseph Wildbach on condition he forswear continued use of the English alias “Joe Wildbrook.” Shame concerning his family’s origin is an attitude that has inflicted great pain upon his father. Although, during his youth, Karl Joseph displayed a disobedient and reckless disposition, experience of life has, I trust, worked a transformation that will render him worthy of his inheritance."
Sophie saw Karl Joseph blanch. His big muscular hands gripped his hat as if he intended to punch strong fingertips through the brim.
Chapter Two
This is what I get, Karl thought, for feeling the least bit of sorrow for Papa. Even from the grave he knows where I'm vulnerable, how to humiliate me, control me.
That he, Joe Wildbrook, a decorated Veteran of the War Between the States, still could feel like a bullied child must be hidden at all costs. He had already proved he could survive beyond the protective wing of his rich father. As a soldier, he'd proved he was a man--if killing made you one--many times over.
Karl glared at the elaborate parquet which floored Judge Markham's dim lair. He would not give George or that malicious Sally the pleasure of witnessing his pain.
He had been feeling sorry that he hadn't loved his father more or pleased him more, remembering the affection his father had given,of a distant kind, to be sure, but a portion of what a father ought to give his son. Now here was Papa same as ever, ruining the warm moment, committed to tearing him down, even from beyond the grave!
Nobleman's son, Todd Ramble, returns home after years abroad and finds himself falling in love with his step-sister, who was now a grown woman. Unfortunately their love is brutally challenged by his tyrannical father.
Angela Calminetti, mother of five, New Age practitioner and gifted psychic and telepath, is proud of her family ties and does everything she can to make sure that all of her younger siblings are as happy in love and marriage as she is…whether they wa
Angela Calminetti, mother of five, New Age practitioner and gifted psychic and telepath, is proud of her family ties and does everything she can to make sure that all of her younger siblings are as happy in love and marriage as she is…whether they wa
