The Second Chance Brides Collection Read online

  She glanced up to find a dark form hovering in the doorway. It was Jake, wrapped in a blanket. The heat rose in her cheeks as she hastily put down the Bible. “Are you well?”

  “I’m better, thank you.” He looked around before slowly approaching the living area and settling into a chair close to the blazing fire. “Where’s your father?”

  “He’s in the barn, caring for the horses.” She stared at Jake sitting before her, his face enlightened by flames hungrily consuming the logs in the fireplace. He did not look the part of some soldier but rather one who had battled the war of disease that claimed so many. Seeing him soak up the warmth of the fire, he appeared stronger than he had the last few days. She knew he had gained a personal victory over the enemy of sickness, and it made her glad.

  “Are you hungry?” she now asked. “There are biscuits, and I will fry up some ham.” She bustled about, taking out the cast-iron pan to cook the ham.

  “Who are they?” Jake wondered, pointing to several paintings hanging on the wall.

  “My family from the old country. Opa and Oma. My cousins, too. We gathered together and a fine artist painted them, before we left to come here to America.”

  “They are beautifully done. I often wondered what it would be like to sit for an artist and have a portrait painted.” He paused. “And the woman? She looks like you.”

  Gretchen gazed at the sleek portrait of a proud woman, with golden hair and deep-set blue eyes. “My mutter. She died on the journey here to America.”

  Jake straightened then. “I’m sorry.”

  “It was ship’s fever. She was never very strong. Papa thought a new place would be good for her. But the dank air of the ship proved too much.” She paused. “I think of her often. We did so much together. Even to this day, I make her apple kuchen whenever I can.” She paused as stray tears crept into her eyes, thinking how much she missed her.

  “What is kuchen?”

  “‘Kuchen’ is the German word for cake.”

  “Hmmm, I thought you may be German.”

  She paused. “Does that bother you? I know there are men from the old country who fight for the British.”

  “You mean the Hessians? Yes.” Jake stared into the fire as if the flames had ignited something within him. “They are paid by the British to wage war on us. A good friend of mine was killed by a Hessian bullet. They are all around Trenton, too, from what I’ve seen.”

  From the grating of his voice, Gretchen wished she had not brought up the subject. Not only was her life once embroiled in the Hessians, but so, too, was Jake’s. The intersection of them could prove perilous. Why did I say anything at all? she scolded herself. But then her gaze fell on the Bible, and she picked it up. “It is all terrible, the things we see and hear. But I know in this book there is truth and light and peace. This Bible belonged to my mutter. She left many notes in it. I feel she is near when I read what she penned on the pages.”

  “I’m glad you have such comfort, Gretchen,” he said quietly. “It’s all we can hold on to when the awfulness of war takes away loved ones. Whether by sickness or battle wounds, it’s all terrible. But we have the promise of eternity if we don’t lose faith.” When he stood to his feet, the blanket cascaded to the floor. Gretchen came and swiftly picked it up, handing it back to him. Their hands brushed. His eyes stared intently into hers and again the color of them, dark brown and gentle, drew her in.

  “Thank you.” His voice softened as he took her hand. “If I had the money, I would pay you for your kindness. But there’s little payment in my work and…”

  The sputter of the frying ham sent Gretchen scurrying to turn the slices in the pan. “Nonsense. We would never accept payment.”

  Jake made his way to the window to see the snow-covered yard and the barn in the distance. “I must do something to help. Might I ask your father if I could help around here? I also need a mount so I can continue my duties. You mentioned asking him about this?”

  Gretchen paused in turning the ham slices, wondering how she would broach the subject of Jake’s need. No doubt Papa would gladly accept help with the stock. But allowing a Continental soldier to acquire one of his horses to do the enemy’s bidding? How would he react to such news? Especially knowing where they hailed from and the past associations they’d kept.

  “Here he comes now,” Jake observed.

  Gretchen held out her hand. “Please, don’t mention about borrowing the horse. I’ll ask him in due time. You still need to regain your strength.”

  Papa threw open the door then, stomping his feet to knock off the snow from his boots. “Ah, so he has arisen! You look well.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Jake said. “And how are your horses weathering all this snow and cold?”

  “Quite well, danke. Eating too much, as they have not been exercised. I hope I have the hay I need to stay the winter.” He came over and poured out some fresh tea Gretchen had made.

  She saw Jake look over at her, sensing his anxiousness to discuss his care of the animals. “Papa, did you know Mr. Rawlings is a skilled horseman?”

  “Ya?”

  “I am, sir,” he added. “I cared for my father’s horses in Virginia. We had many a fine team. I’ve also cared for”—Gretchen saw him fight for the words—“for special horses owned by those in authority. I’ve even had a job as a stableman.”

  “How fine, indeed.” He rested in a chair and struggled to remove his boots. “Then maybe you can help us here, eh?” He chuckled.

  “I would like to.”

  The man’s salt-and-pepper eyebrows arched. “Well…”

  “It’s the least I can do, after all you’ve done for me.”

  Papa exchanged glances with Gretchen. “I’m certain we can arrange something. You may start tomorrow, if you are able.”

  A small smile formed on Jake’s face. Gretchen breathed a sigh, thankful at least a part of Jake’s request had been honored. But she knew he sought a horse to continue his work, and if Papa were to know it was for the Continental Army, she feared his angry German tongue would be heard all the way to Trenton.

  Jake could hardly wait to rise early the next morning. Before the light of dawn streaked across the eastern sky, he was dressed and ready for a new day. For the first time he sensed freedom in his life, and he was uncertain why. Maybe because he felt no fear as he usually did whenever the dawn greeted him. He knew he would rise from some damp, frigid place on the battlefield or in the woods or in some abandoned barn to face another unpredictable day. He would shake off the dirt and leaves, stuff a piece of hard bread and moldy bacon in his mouth, and make tracks for whatever destination the army required. All day he would battle the fear of running into an enemy patrol, a sniper’s bullet, or some other misfortune. Before he met Gretchen, he had been scouting the New Jersey countryside. He would need to return to his work, but for now he relished in this peaceful existence. He’d enjoyed a pleasant rest in a warm bed, with a feather pillow cradling his head. He wore one of Mr. Hanson’s older nightshirts instead of his own dirty clothing, and even now looked at his clean clothing scrubbed in hot water and lye soap that removed the many weeks of dirt and sweat. Gretchen had also found an old pair of her father’s shoes for him to wear. Yes, life here was a fine refuge from the battle. If only it would last.

  Jake ventured out to see Gretchen had risen early to make a pot of porridge for breakfast. “Good morning, Miss Hanson. May I bring in the wood?”

  She turned, a ladle in her hand. “Are you certain you’re strong enough?”

  “Yes. I’m quite strong, thanks to such good care.” He smiled, took his wool coat from off the hook on the wall, and ventured out into the frosty morning. A blanket of frozen haze lay over the fields this cold December dawn. As the sun’s rays touched the farmland, wisps of clouds rose up from the brown cornstalks left as a reminder of a handsome crop earlier that year. Slowly he headed toward the woodpile and began stacking logs in his arms.

  When he returned, Mr. Hanson was also awake and sitting near the fire. “Guten Morgen,” he said in his fine German accent. “You look stronger.”

  Jake carefully stacked the wood beside the fireplace. “I’m better, thank you, but I still find myself weak.”

  “It takes time,” Gretchen said, spooning the porridge into bowls. “Come have some porridge and tea.”

  Jake smiled and sat down at the table, conscious of the older man quietly examining him. He wondered if the talk would turn, as it did yesterday with Gretchen, to things he’d rather keep silent about. Instead he said, “I’m most eager to help with your horses today, sir.”

  “I must go to town later this morning,” Mr. Hanson noted. “The stalls can be cleaned when I leave, if you wish.” He paused. “Surely you also had a horse at one time?”

  Jake nodded. “My mount suffered a…that is, became injured and did not survive.”

  “I’m sorry to hear.”

  “I…” He hesitated. “I’m also in need, sir, of a mount to make a quick trip. Of course, when the time is right.” He caught the sudden look of panic erupting in Gretchen’s gaze and her head shaking no.

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Mr. Hanson said.

  “Mr. Rawlings needs to borrow one of our horses, Papa,” Gretchen explained. “I told him he might, if we are able.”

  He stirred in his seat. “Where will you go?”

  Jake hesitated. “I—I have kin across the river. I want to inform them I’m well and in the land of the living.”

  To his relief the man nodded. “I think we can arrange it. Pass me the pitcher of milk, daughter.”

  Jake sighed, thankful the explanation satisfied the man. With all the talk of Hessians and the family’s German roots, he dared not mention his allegiance to the Continental Arm
y. While he did not like telling a story, in a way the army had been kin to him. He had many good friends serving, if they still remained in the army. Many enlistments were up in a few weeks. This magnified General Washington’s fear over what might become of them in the New Year. Rumors ran rampant that the army could disintegrate unless something was done.

  Jake helped Gretchen clear the table then followed the elderly man to the barn. He assisted in helping hitch up the team for Mr. Hanson’s ride to town. He wondered if all he had witnessed in the days leading up to his illness were true—if the Hessian troops still occupied Trenton and performed drills in the nearby meadow. Perhaps God would help him discover any new information through Mr. Hanson’s visit.

  Just then he felt the wisp of a breeze and found Gretchen standing beside him, buried in a wool cloak. “Why did you speak a falsehood?” she suddenly asked.

  “A falsehood?”

  “Saying you were seeing kin across the river. It’s the Continentals you plan to see soon, isn’t it?”

  “They are like kin to me, Miss Hanson. As much as can be for all we have been through these long months, while we fight to see a new country born.”

  “I suppose so. I do understand why you hesitate to say anything about your work.” She stared down the road where her father had disappeared. “Papa will no doubt run into many Hessians in town today. Some are even his friends.”

  “I wonder how many are in the town?”

  “I hear about a thousand or so. Papa says they are waiting for the British to arrive from New York.”

  “I’m sure they’re also waiting for the river to freeze. Then they will hunt us down like dogs, and our country will be no more.”

  Gretchen turned toward him. “I see this upsets you. A part of me wishes for us to become a country. But another part of me”—she hesitated—“wonders if it might be best to have the mother country care for us. If we truly know what we are doing. And if we can really succeed in this manner of Independence.”

  “Only God knows, Gretchen. It’s like life. We can only walk in life’s footsteps and see what fate brings.” He paused. “But I will say, I’m glad fate brought me here and not a cold place in the woods that could have been my grave.” He took her hand, which he so enjoyed holding the last time, grateful she did not draw away. “Thank you.”

  “Always, sir.” She disengaged herself, and he watched her fly into the barn like a dark bird, her cloak billowing about her. His heart grew warm. Maybe as they worked he could convince her of the noble effort of the cause. Despite their heritage and past affections, he hoped they would continue to draw closer. Patience, he told himself. Don’t make her fear and then take flight. Slowly, ever so slowly, with kindness and a listening ear, show her that you respect her and honor her.

  He entered the barn to the aroma of horses and thought of Virginia. And then, if God is willing, I will have her come home to Virginia, where the Blue Ridge Mountains reach the sky, and all will be well in a country we will call the United States of America. Dear God, may it come to pass.

  Chapter 4

  Gretchen wondered why the thought of Jake returning to the Continentals didn’t bother her more. At times she felt guilty for not preserving the memory of Rolf. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized marriage to him would not have been right. Maybe she had only agreed to it upon Papa’s desire that she be knitted to one of their countrymen. Rolf had been a fine gentleman, but his fervor for the mother county and against liberty made her uncomfortable.

  She moved to her room, where she kept a copy of the Declaration and began reading.

  We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness—That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed—That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government…

  Life. Liberty. The pursuit of happiness. The need for a new government. How the words grabbed hold of her heart. Rolf had recoiled at such things. He wanted it silenced. But there were more to these words than the print on a document. They were words that spoke of freedom and happiness and life.

  She glanced out the window to see Papa and Jake busy at the barn, conversing with each other while moving around the bales of hay. She watched Jake effortlessly carry the bales, per her father’s instruction, thanking God his strength had returned so quickly. What did the future hold for their country and for them? Just then Jake appeared outside the barn and turned to stare at the house. Gretchen hastily retreated from the window, feeling the heat in her cheeks. Had he seen her looking at him? She shook her head and returned to making sourdough pancakes for breakfast.

  Soon the door burst open, and the men marched in with smiles lighting their faces. “We are ready for breakfast, daughter,” Papa announced, thumping Jake on the back. “What an excellent worker we have. I’m sorry you cannot stay longer with us, young man.”

  Gretchen glanced at Jake. She knew he would eventually take his leave but didn’t think it would be so soon. “We could still use help here, Papa. At least until Mr. Rawlings is strong enough to travel. And—and we can’t send a soul away with Christmas so near, can we?” The stumbling words betrayed her heart. She was growing fond of him, maybe too fond. Jake looked at her, and the small smile teasing his lips revealed he knew it, too.

  “Yes, that is true,” Papa agreed. “Will you stay for Christmas, young man?”

  “I would be honored,” Jake said, flashing another grin in her direction.

  Gretchen’s heart sang. She made a mental note to finish knitting the new wool scarf she had begun. She’d finished Papa’s long ago and was glad to have started another. It would be a warm, inviting gift for one facing the frozen elements while performing his duty. It was noble and right to love their new country and the man seeking to preserve it. The mere thought gave her peace.

  After breakfast Papa went out to check on a problem with the wagon. Jake remained at the table to finish his cup of tea, all the while gazing at her in a way that made her feel excited. She tried to put aside the interest, instead gathering the dishes to wash them in the tin basin, when his voice stopped her short.

  “Do you really want me to stay for Christmas?”

  “Of course. I see no reason for you to go back, just to shiver out in the cold.” She said it with her back to him until she felt a warm presence. When she turned, she nearly gasped at their close proximity.

  Jake hastily retreated. “Thank you for having me here. I did assume you would want me to leave as soon as possible, what with your affections for the mother country, as you said.”

  “I was mistaken. I have been rereading the Declaration and the words of life, liberty, and freedom. I don’t think we’ve witnessed any liberty with the terrible taxations put on us.”

  “No taxation without representation,” he added. “This is why we fight, Gretchen. Men have already given their lives to see us set free from a tyrannical nation.”

  Just then she thought of Rolf and his commitment. How many on the opposite side of the battlefield gave their lives to a cause? But theirs was not for freedom. Why then did Rolf go off to war? Why did anyone, unless the cause was made clear?

  “You look troubled.”

  “I was once engaged to a soldier with opposite views,” she admitted. “He felt strongly about his duty, too. But I can truly say I have no idea why he left to fight. It was not for liberty. Or for life. Or our happiness. For what, I don’t know.”

  Jake stood quietly, his hands in his pockets. She feared his quiet demeanor meant she had made a mistake confessing the engagement.

  “It must be hard for you. Now, an enemy soldier has come into your home.”

  Gretchen set down the tin plate she had been washing. “Jake, you are not an enemy. You fight for what you believe. I know why you do what you do, but I never knew why Rolf did what he did. He only told me he had to, as if I should understand without explanation. Now he is gone. It is a terrible thing, and at what cost?”