A Child's Christmas Wish. Erica Vetsch
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farm to build the new house. And the bull cost a great deal of money, I know. If we still had the bull, we could sell it to get some of the purchase price back, but...” His faded blue eyes were sad, remembering how he had needed to put down the expensive bull who had proven too mean to have on the farm. “We can pay off the loan as soon as we sell the cheeses, but there will not be anything left over. I will go to town tomorrow and talk to the banker, see if he will extend the mortgage and loan us enough to build at least a small house. And if I need to, I will look for a job.”
Patting his hand, Grossmutter nodded. “We need to find a place to stay where we can be together. We cannot stay here forever. Herr Rabb has been generous, but it is clear he would prefer us to be gone from his house. We will need to find a place to rent, and that will cost money.”
Kate twirled a strand of loose hair around her fingertip. “I’ll go to town with you and see if I can get a job, perhaps at the mercantile.” Though she would loathe working for Mrs. Hale, she would do it for these dear people. “Or perhaps at the bank or the café or the hotel. I’m good with figures, or I can cook or clean. At least for a couple of months.”
Grossmutter pressed her lips together, eyes clouded. “There is one more thing we can do.”
“What?” Kate asked.
“Martin, you should send a telegram to your brother. Perhaps he can help us.”
Grossvater pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ask my brother for money?” He puckered as if he had tasted something sour. “I don’t want to have to do that.”
She sighed. “I know you do not, but you should at least write to him and tell him what has happened.”
Kate smoothed her dress over her unborn baby, putting her palm against her side when the little one thumped and stretched. Grossvater’s brother, Victor, ran a leather tanning company in Cincinnati, very successful if his letters were to be believed. He’d often chided Grossvater for becoming a farmer in what he called the backwaters of Minnesota, abandoning the family business to strike out on his own. There had been some rift between the brothers, something she never knew the details of, which made Grossvater asking for Victor’s help even more unpalatable.
Kate spread her hands on the table. “We must also be careful not to impose upon Mr. Rabb more than we have to. I am afraid we might’ve hurt his feelings by cleaning his kitchen. He took offense, thinking our helping him was a judgment of his housekeeping skills.”
“Oh, no, did you explain?” Grossmutter asked.
“I told him we were only trying to keep busy and to repay him for his hospitality, but that seemed to offend him further.”
“He is a proud man, I think. He has asked for no help, not even with the little one, since his wife passed away,” Grossvater said. “We must be careful, as you say. And we must find another place soon. Perhaps we should go to town today.”
“That might be best.” Kate rose. “I’ll get my coat.”
* * *
Oscar drove his wagon up Jackson Street in Berne, conscious of Kate Amaker beside him on the seat. Mr. Amaker sat on a board roped across the wagon box behind them.
“You didn’t have to do this.” Kate gripped her hands in her lap, cocooned in her husband’s big coat that still carried the scent of smoke. “We could’ve driven in ourselves.”
“It’s no trouble. I needed to go to town, anyway.” Odd as it was to be traveling with Kate and Martin, it felt odder still not to have Liesl with him. They were never apart. The ride had been much quieter without the four-year-old’s constant questions and commentary.
Liesl hadn’t even fussed about staying with Inge at the farm.
The ease with which his daughter had taken to the Amakers surprised him. And, if he was honest, made him a bit jealous. He had been her whole world for her entire life, but in less than a day, she had befriended their guests.
Berne was a small town of under a thousand residents. One store, one restaurant, one hotel, one church, one bank. The train had bypassed Berne by ten miles, going through Kasson to the south, stopping the town’s growth and potential while still in its infancy. Still, he liked the little farm town, though since his wife’s death, he came only when he needed to pick up supplies. He had a standing order at the mercantile every two weeks, and he was able to get in and out of town quickly without having to talk to many people.
Not this time, though, since it would take the Amakers a while to complete their business. “Where will you go first?”
Martin leaned forward. “I will go to the bank, and Kate can go to the store. We will hurry.”
Oscar nodded and pulled up in front of the tiny brick building that housed the bank. He parked the wagon and leaped to the ground, reaching up for Kate. He took great care lifting her down, making sure she was steady on her feet before letting go. She didn’t look at his face, busying herself with brushing her coat and smoothing her hair. He took her elbow. “Don’t worry about the time, Martin. I’ll see Kate to the store. I have business there myself.”
It had been almost two years since he had walked with a woman in town. Gaelle had gone with him every Saturday, rain or shine, enjoying getting off the farm and seeing people. Browsing the store, having tea at the restaurant, visiting her friends. She had been as chatty as Liesl, social and energetic. He hadn’t known that he would miss those trips until they were gone.
The bell over the door jingled as Oscar opened it to allow Kate to go in first. He breathed deeply, inhaling the scents of vinegar, apples, leather and patent medicines. He’d give Mrs. Hale credit. The store was light, bright and well-organized. The shelves were all painted white, and the floor had been waxed to a high shine. Built on a corner, the store had wide windows allowing sunshine to stream in. She had arranged some of the wares in the windows, inviting browsing customers to come inside, and everything was clearly labeled in a fine script.
Mrs. Hale looked up from where she was writing in a ledger spread on the counter. “Oh, Mr. Rabb, I wasn’t expecting you today.” She slapped the book closed. “It will take me some time to assemble your order.”
“That’s fine. I need to add a few things, anyway.” With three more people to feed, he’d need to increase his grocery list. A frisson of worry went through him. He was comfortably off, but hosting the Amakers for any length of time would be sure to put a dent in his finances.
Kate bit her lower lip, standing beside a table full of bolts of calico. She trailed her hand over the top bolt, pink with tiny blue flowers. Oscar’s mouth twitched. Liesl had asked for a pink dress. For Christmas. Before she’d asked for a baby, of all things.
If those were the only two choices, she’d be getting a dress, and that was that. Perhaps he could prevail upon Mrs. Tipford to sew one up for her. Getting clothes for Liesl was one of the hardest of his tasks as a father, but the pastor’s wife had been helpful recently.
“Mrs. Hale,” Kate said, stepping forward, fingers knotted. “I was wondering if you might need some help around the store. Perhaps through the Christmas season?”
Mrs. Hale had picked up a feather duster and was fluttering it over some perfume bottles on the shelf behind the counter, and she barely paused. “Katie, my dear,” she said, glancing over her shoulder for a bare instant before turning away again. “I am not looking for any help, but even if I was...” She paused. “It isn’t seemly for a woman in your condition to work outside the home. I’m sure you understand.”
Oscar had noted that Kate’s shoulders had gone rigid when Mrs. Hale called her Katie. Katie didn’t suit her at all. It was a little girl’s name, not a grown woman’s, and from what he had observed, Kate Amaker was a grown woman, carrying her burdens with resolution. A widow, an expectant mother, caring for her elderly relatives, and now a disaster-survivor. No, Katie didn’t suit her at all.
She flattened her hands on the gentle mound of her stomach, and she pressed her lips together,