Daniel and Sam. “We need a father, so I’m gonna pray for one. You oughta do that too.”
Jake dropped his fork, not caring that it clattered against the plate. “You’re just a silly little girl. You don’t know nothing. We don’t need a father, and even if we did, God wouldn’t give us one.”
“I am not silly.” Mary burst into tears. “You’re just mean.” She hiccupped, then glared at her brother. “I hate you.”
Harriet laid down her utensils and gave Jake a stern look. The morning’s events had taken their toll on everyone, but that didn’t mean she could allow Jake to disparage his sister. “There was no call for your comments. I expect you to apologize to Mary.”
“I will not. We don’t need a father.”
“Jake!” Though Harriet did not raise her voice, the children all knew that tone. It meant she had reached the end of her rope, and they faced serious consequences if they disobeyed her.
“That’s another thing we don’t need—you pretending to be our mother.” Jake’s voice seethed with resentment. “Ruth and I are grown up. We don’t need you.” He pushed back his chair and stormed out of the room, leaving his heavily laden plate as evidence of his anger. Jake never missed a meal.
In the silence that followed his exit, Harriet took a deep breath. Jake was wrong. They did need her, all of them. She knew that. Still, his lack of gratitude stung. Didn’t he realize that everything she had done was necessary? If she hadn’t taken care of them when their parents died, the good citizens of Fortune would have separated the family, placing them on different farms. Some of them might even have wound up in an orphanage. But Harriet had ensured that they remained together, that they had a home and food and clothing. And this was what she got in return?
She took another deep breath, trying to calm her thoughts. Everyone was overwrought, distressed by what had happened at church. Pastor Sempert and Pastor Russell—indeed, the entire German community—had more important problems than she.
“Ruth,” she said with a faint smile for her sister. “I think we should take some food to the parsonage. Pastor Sempert might be able to eat some of your blancmange.”
Ruth nodded. “Anything for the poor man.”
“I’ve never seen a woman act like that.” Karl took another potato from the bowl and laid it on his plate. Though normally Sunday dinners were spent discussing the pastor’s sermon, there had been no sermon today, only those appalling moments when Pastor Sempert had been stricken and when Harriet had quieted the congregation. If he hadn’t been there, Karl would not have believed it possible.
“That’s because she’s an American,” his father said. “She wasn’t raised the way women in the Old Country were.”
“But she was strong, Vater.” Surely his father would appreciate that.
“Ja, she is.” Mutter’s expression was solemn. “I wonder, though, if she is the right woman for you. Marriage is for a lifetime. You need to be sure.”
“I am sure.”
Vater nodded slowly. “This is America. Things are different here. Why don’t you take some time to get to know her and her family before you begin to court her?”
“Vater is right. We all need to get to know her.”
Karl knew all he needed to. Harriet was strong; she would give him sons to work on the farm; and in the meantime, she had three brothers who would be good field hands. But he could not disobey his parents, and so he nodded. They’d soon see that she was the perfect wife for him.
“Good afternoon, Harriet.”
She turned and smiled. There was no mistaking either the man or the horse. Lawrence owned the only palomino in Ladreville, and though there were other blond men, no one else had the same broad shoulders and muscular legs.
“Where are you headed?” he asked as he drew Snip next to Harriet’s wagon.
“I’m paying a call on Sarah and her baby.” Isabelle had delivered the news
Jake dropped his fork, not caring that it clattered against the plate. “You’re just a silly little girl. You don’t know nothing. We don’t need a father, and even if we did, God wouldn’t give us one.”
“I am not silly.” Mary burst into tears. “You’re just mean.” She hiccupped, then glared at her brother. “I hate you.”
Harriet laid down her utensils and gave Jake a stern look. The morning’s events had taken their toll on everyone, but that didn’t mean she could allow Jake to disparage his sister. “There was no call for your comments. I expect you to apologize to Mary.”
“I will not. We don’t need a father.”
“Jake!” Though Harriet did not raise her voice, the children all knew that tone. It meant she had reached the end of her rope, and they faced serious consequences if they disobeyed her.
“That’s another thing we don’t need—you pretending to be our mother.” Jake’s voice seethed with resentment. “Ruth and I are grown up. We don’t need you.” He pushed back his chair and stormed out of the room, leaving his heavily laden plate as evidence of his anger. Jake never missed a meal.
In the silence that followed his exit, Harriet took a deep breath. Jake was wrong. They did need her, all of them. She knew that. Still, his lack of gratitude stung. Didn’t he realize that everything she had done was necessary? If she hadn’t taken care of them when their parents died, the good citizens of Fortune would have separated the family, placing them on different farms. Some of them might even have wound up in an orphanage. But Harriet had ensured that they remained together, that they had a home and food and clothing. And this was what she got in return?
She took another deep breath, trying to calm her thoughts. Everyone was overwrought, distressed by what had happened at church. Pastor Sempert and Pastor Russell—indeed, the entire German community—had more important problems than she.
“Ruth,” she said with a faint smile for her sister. “I think we should take some food to the parsonage. Pastor Sempert might be able to eat some of your blancmange.”
Ruth nodded. “Anything for the poor man.”
“I’ve never seen a woman act like that.” Karl took another potato from the bowl and laid it on his plate. Though normally Sunday dinners were spent discussing the pastor’s sermon, there had been no sermon today, only those appalling moments when Pastor Sempert had been stricken and when Harriet had quieted the congregation. If he hadn’t been there, Karl would not have believed it possible.
“That’s because she’s an American,” his father said. “She wasn’t raised the way women in the Old Country were.”
“But she was strong, Vater.” Surely his father would appreciate that.
“Ja, she is.” Mutter’s expression was solemn. “I wonder, though, if she is the right woman for you. Marriage is for a lifetime. You need to be sure.”
“I am sure.”
Vater nodded slowly. “This is America. Things are different here. Why don’t you take some time to get to know her and her family before you begin to court her?”
“Vater is right. We all need to get to know her.”
Karl knew all he needed to. Harriet was strong; she would give him sons to work on the farm; and in the meantime, she had three brothers who would be good field hands. But he could not disobey his parents, and so he nodded. They’d soon see that she was the perfect wife for him.
“Good afternoon, Harriet.”
She turned and smiled. There was no mistaking either the man or the horse. Lawrence owned the only palomino in Ladreville, and though there were other blond men, no one else had the same broad shoulders and muscular legs.
“Where are you headed?” he asked as he drew Snip next to Harriet’s wagon.
“I’m paying a call on Sarah and her baby.” Isabelle had delivered the news
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