We were on our way. It was what I sang to myself as I headed the mule back. I sang it until I saw Jack, hands on his hips, a glare in his eyes, standing in the middle of Barbara’s yard.
My heart pounded and the mule must have sensed it. Fritz started to dance around, bouncing Ida’s board more. She whimpered. Not even a month old and she was being jousted around like a single egg in a basket.
“Well enough to ride, I see.” Jack reached for the bridle and held the mule steady. Fritz sidestepped at Jack’s abrupt movement.
“Did they not need you at the mill?” I asked as innocently as I could.
“I thought I should check on my sons, see if they were really here. Now I have the surprise of Ida as well.”
Andy’s eyes peeked from around the cabin’s corner. “They’re fine. You can go back to your work.”
Martin stood beside his mother on the porch, and Karl had taken out his pipe and smoked as he stood on the other side of Jack. Were they my allies or allied against me? Had Karl gone to tell Jack before he caught up with us?
“Ja, everyone is well, Jack,” Martin offered. “You go back to work and come later. Spend the night here. A little outing for you all. Emma travels to visit the doctor and stopped here. She’ll go home with you tomorrow. Nothing more.”
His voice soothed like one of his herbs, and I reasoned that he wasn’t against me even though his words could be interpreted to express as much. “Come inside now. Mother will prepare food for you and you can go back to work.”
Andy stood off to the side, watching. Jack hesitated, then let loose the bridle. He squeezed the calf of my leg with his wide hands. A warning. He walked into the house, and Martin looked at me before stepping in behind him. Was it a signal I should go? Stay? Would they keep him inside? Would he really just eat and go back to work? There wasn’t time. The boat would leave. I signaled to Andy to come to me. “Go get Kate and Christian,” I whispered to him. “Go. Now.”
Karl shook his head at me as he saw Andy scramble around the back of the cabin. “It’s too dangerous,” he said, approaching me. He didn’t look at me as he stroked the mule’s neck. “You are too weak to start now and Jack is too close. Wait until morning. Come, I’ll help you dismount.”
“But—”
Jack came out of the house while Karl assisted me. He held a hunk of bread and cheese. “Be here when I get back later,” Jack said. He held my gaze and it seemed to me he willed the opposite of his words; he willed me to go, to take my children and leave him before he did something that couldn’t be taken back.
“Don’t I always do what’s best?” I said.
“Ja,” Jack said. “You’re an obedient woman.” With that he mounted his own mule and trotted off.
“Now,” I told Karl when Jack was well out of sight.
“You take Ida and Kate and go,” Martin said, coming out on the porch. “Leave the boys here.”
“No! He’ll come back and when I’m not here he’ll blame Andy. Or worse, Andy will—”
“I won’t let Jack hurt him or let Andy do anything rash. I promise you, Emma,” Martin said. “The boys are my nephews. I only want the best for them. And for you. Go now while you can. You go to Aurora Mills. You trust me with your sons. Their presence here will buy you time.”
“Ja, by golly, time is what you need, to get to safety and make a way for all your children,” Karl said. “But help too. I’ll go with you, Emma,” Karl said.
“But you said to wait until morning.”
“Martin’s offer is sound. Leave the boys for him to bring later.”
Were they all in this to take my sons away?
“We’ll tell Jack you’ve gone for a visit to Aurora Mills,” Martin said. “Maybe that you’re hoping your parents are there by now. We’ll suggest that you’ll be back.”
“He’ll believe this if the boys are here,” Barbara added. “He’ll know you wouldn’t stay away from them for long.” She took my hand, the way she had the day she spent with me after Christian died, the day I’d once felt close to her. “That’s what I’ll tell him.”
They would lie for me? Maybe they lie to me.
Would Andy ever forgive my leaving him again? Still, they were right. Jack wouldn’t come after us if he saw the boys there. He’d be outraged and angry, but he’d expect my return and might not follow. Especially if he realized that Karl was along. Jack would expect Karl back for the school term. He’d expect me to come back with him.
The big unknown was whether I could trust Martin to do as he said, to bring the boys as soon as he could. He was a kind man, an uncle, the brother of my husband. Family. But he was a Giesy, as Jack was.
I had to trust them all and hope they were the calm in my storm.
“You’ll prevent Jack from hurting the boys? And Andy … you’ll keep him from, doing anything … foolish? You can’t let Jack take them home with him.”
“I promise this,” Martin said. “Go now.”
Andy rounded the corner with Christian in tow. Kate breathed hard, running to catch up. “We’re going now, Mama?” It was Andy.
“Ja. But only Kate and the baby and me and Karl. Martin will bring you and Christian soon. He’s promised.”
“You can’t go!”
“I have to, Andy.” I reached for him. “Jack won’t try to follow us if you’re still here. He’ll think I’ll be back. Please. You can help by staying here with Christian and being quiet about Martin bringing you to Aurora Mills.
Which he will.”
Andy jerked from me. He stepped back, tears pooling and running down his hot face. He ran from me then, and while I wanted to pursue him, let him know he was not lost, I couldn’t. The tide would not wait. Leaving now was our best chance.
“Comfort him, Martin,” I said. Martin took Christian’s hand. My youngest son twisted to see where Andy ran, turned back to stare at me. “I’ll see you soon,” I said. “Be good for Oma and Uncle Martin.” Christian nodded. “When?” I asked Martin. “When will you bring them?”
“When the timing is right,” he said.
It was as committal as he would get.
31
Emma
An Offer Tendered
I forced Andy’s face from my mind. We rushed now. Martin loaned Karl a mule. We fast-trotted to the Woodards’ wharf.
“Where are the boys?” Sarah asked as she helped me dismount, steadied me as I leaned against the mule, breathing hard. Kate rode with Karl and she stayed frozen on his mule.
“Martin’s promised to bring them later,” I said. “Oh, Sarah, pray that I can trust him. Pray that he won’t hand them over to Jack.” She held me and the gentle warmth of her arms brought the tears. “Pray. Please.”
“I will, but your prayers are heard, too, Emma.”
I wasn’t so sure. I was returning to the colony I’d wanted most to avoid, leaving my sons behind. All I’d ever wanted to do was protect my children. Instead I’d made choices that put them in peril. That wasn’t a path that led to answered prayers.
I pulled at my bonnet strings. “Maybe I should have taken my drawings to Olympia. Maybe I should have let the Willapa people take care of me without complaint, been grateful for what I had.”
“If you can’t accept the goodness your family offers now, how will you ever accept what God has to give? This is the first sketch,” Sarah assured me, “of the new drawing you’ll make.” She held me by the shoulders, staring into my eyes. “What Karl gives, what Martin offers, those will keep you going for now.”
She handed me the tickets. “And your help,” I said. “Thank you. I’ll pay you back, I will.” I owed so many so much. I wondered if this was how Christian felt about repaying Keil. Debts mounted up inside the heart and mind. Maybe repaying Keil for our land was Christian’s way of wiping the slate clean rather than an admission that he wanted to return to colony life under Keil’s rule. Why hadn’t I thought of that before?
Ida stirred in her board and I lifted her from the mule.
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“We need to go, by golly,” Karl said. He’d lifted Kate, dismounted, then taken the satchel from my mule’s neck. All our earthly goods. Karl had brought nothing with him save the clothes on his back. But then, he trusted that he’d get whatever he needed at the Aurora colony store. Maybe one day I’d trust in that too.
Sarah kissed me good-bye and we walked as fast as I could to the mail boat, stepped up and in. We thanked the tide and the boatman’s strong arms for oaring us away.
The sky loomed above us like a blue porcelain plate. No storms in the wind. Seagulls dipped and called. The oars sloshed against the Willapa River, and it seemed we ached away from the shore, hesitating, the craft resisting the boatman’s efforts. Maybe hesitation marked all important changes, where the heart sensed that newness waited and took a last inspiring breath. The Willapa Hills watched our escape. I wished we could have gone once more to Christian’s grave. I would have picked up the oyster shell painting as a reminder of how I didn’t always see things at first glance, that I needed reflection to find true meaning. I wish I could have forgiven the old man whose furniture lured my husband to his death. No, it wasn’t the furniture at all. Some things just happened to people. Christian had died caring for others. It was how he lived.
“Help me live to be a better, wiser mother,” I whispered with a kiss to Ida’s head. It was the only prayer now that mattered.
In Bruceport, Karl purchased fares for our journey south. Another debt owed him. The weather had shifted and dark clouds billowed up out over the sea. It was July and just threatened. I kept my eyes from the site where Christian had died. We took a wooden boat out to a waiting ship. Karl called it a tender, as I had heard before. But he explained, “A vessel attendant on another. It ferries supplies back and forth from ship to shore. The coal car behind an engine on a train is called a tender too.”
“It serves something larger than itself,” I said.
“Ja. It’s a gut word.”
“As you tender us to safety.” As Martin tendered his offer to bring me my sons. “It’s caring for another when we … when I … feel so fragile.” I felt the tears press behind my eyes, blinked them away.
They put us in a small storeroom with one cot. I wasn’t sure this ship took many passengers, but they’d agreed to take us. The room smelled of fish and lumber, ropes, and the sharp scent of pack rats. As soon as the children were tended, Karl said, “You rest now, Emma. I will watch the babies.”
I didn’t think I could sleep but I did. I dreamed then of a kitchen hearth with ten women dressed in white, their caps tied tight beneath their chins, all looking alike as they stood, five on each side of a long table piled high with food. Wonderful, steaming German food served on plates painted with mills and flowers and flying birds. Show towels hung on slender racks around the room. I wasn’t sure how I could see the designs painted on the plates with so much food piled on top of them, but I did. Colorful, beautiful landscapes blessed by Strudels and cakes and sugar cookies. At the head of the table stood a man who looked familiar but I couldn’t place him. It wasn’t Christian or my father. His eyes looked dark, his eyebrows white and flying. Where are the other men? I wondered. The man at the head of the table gave a blessing to the food and bid the women to sit down. Chairs scraped against the wood floors. Their skirts swished and in seconds, they were seated, all except me. I couldn’t move my chair! I struggled and pulled and felt my heart beating, working so hard. My children stood off to the side, waiting to come to the table, but I couldn’t move the heavy chair or invite them to sit!
Then the man at the head of the table stood and called me by name and motioned me forward. How had he recognized me? We all looked alike in our uniforms of white. My heart pounded. I wiped my hands on my apron. I was being called before this dark-eyed man all because I couldn’t get the chair to move!
But then this face, once fearful, turned friendly, his eyes warm molasses, not dark eggs of coal. He offered me his hand, reached out to me. “Come closer, Emma.” He sounded welcoming. “You have nothing to fear.” I wanted to surrender, to let him lead me forward, but I didn’t know if I could trust him. I didn’t know who he was. My father? Jack? Keil? “Come closer, Emma. Take this chair.” He offered me a wooden chair large enough to hold me and my children, all of them. “Komm und is,” he said. Come and dine. I wrapped my arms around my children and we sat and ate at last, the children crying with joy.
I woke up with a start. “Ida?” I’d heard a soft cry. I looked around the small room.
“The Kinder are gut,” Karl said. “But I think your little one might be hungry. I can look after Kate but can’t do what you can do for Ida.” He smiled. He sat on the floor and played a game with strings, keeping Kate entertained. I lifted Ida from her board. So small. So tender. So easily crushed. She breathed deeply and returned to sleep now that I cradled her. Even without food she lay content just being in the comfort of my breast.
“I’ve asked for the ship’s doctor to visit you later,” Karl said. I nodded my thanks. Maybe the kindly man in the dream was Karl. But the man had been able to pull me from the others. He knew my name and didn’t chastise me for my weakness. He understood that I couldn’t make it to the table on my own.
I dozed after that, my baby heavy on my chest. I awoke when the doctor knocked on the door. He stepped over a coil of rope just inside the cabin and offered me a fresh poultice for my still seeping stitches. He and Karl discreetly left me to complete my ministrations. Later I fed Ida, grateful that I had what she needed, that we were not dependent on Opal or the kindness of strangers to keep her alive. We had enough food for the evening supper. Tomorrow would take care of itself.
With Kate in my lap, I asked Karl if the ship headed to the Wallacut River, if we’d have to portage to the Columbia or whether we’d head out to sea.
“I thought the way down the slough to the Wallacut might be too rough for you.” It was the way Christian would have gone if he had lived. “We go to the ocean and sail south to Astoria. There we cross the bar and take another boat to Portland, and then ride the stage to Aurora Mills.
“If Jack comes overland could he beat us there?”
Karl looked thoughtful. “Ja, that is possible. It will take us a few days. We may need to rest in Portland. For you.” Unlike Jack, Karl doesn’t think I pretend to be ill. “Jack might go night and day and get there first.”
“What will I have gained,” I said, “if he meets us there?”
“You won’t stand alone when you face him. But more, you’ll have a safe place to stay when he leaves.”
“I couldn’t have done this without your help. Just getting in and out of the tender vessel took more effort than I imagined.”
Karl shrugged. I thought the color on his face might have darkened, but the candlelight was dim in the small cabin. I wished, then, that I’d brought along Christian’s lantern. It grieved me that I’d left it behind.
“Ja, by golly, you will be safe there. That will be an answered prayer.”
I hadn’t known Karl prayed about me or my family. He’d kept a watchful eye through the years and thank goodness it was friendly. “Christian’s family never accepted me,” I said. “So I tried to stay out of their way, not owe them any debt.”
“Ach, Emma, you tell yourself a story there,” Karl said. “You never waded in to their family. You always swam offshore, by yourself.”
“And swam right into a shark named Jack,” I said. “But doing things on our own—isn’t that what we Germans are about? The strong don’t need others.”
“We all need tending,” Karl said. “We are children in God’s sight, and every good parent knows not to let their child stray too far from a father’s love.”
“Or a mother’s,” I said, though I’d let my children stray into Jack’s life, bringing them harm. Through the closed door I could hear the water push against the ship’s sides, a steady swishing rhythm taking us to Aurora Mills. “You’re so kind to go with us, Karl,” I sa
id. “I am so grateful.”
He shrugged. “I’m ready to stay. John will handle the instruction at Willapa and it’s time there was a school at Aurora Mills. A church too. Wilhelm may need prodding about building the church.” Karl grinned. “He still thinks he is in control of the colony, but I see how his grip slips and by golly, I think that’s a good thing for us all.”
“It’s easy for you to say such things. As a man, Keil listens to you.”
“It isn’t Keil I’m trying to please,” he said.
The words felt like a splash of cold water on my face. Who was I trying to please? Kate came to lie on the cot while I sat, her head in my lap. She snored a child’s snore of contentment. The room smelled of fish and the old ropes that felt scratchy when I lifted them out of the way. “When you disagreed with Wilhelm and stayed in Willapa, that didn’t change your confidence in the colony?”
“Nein. My confidence is in doing the Lord’s work. It doesn’t matter where I live to do that. Remember, Emma, in the Hebrew, religion means ‘tying together again.’ Sometimes Wilhelm’s doctrine tied tight knots, but it’s Christian love that binds. I look for God’s threads to guide me, not Wilhelm’s. You can do this too.”
The journey gave me rested time to think, to grieve. When the image of Andy’s despair at being left behind came to me, I spoke a prayer for him, that one day he’d understand. We sailed into Astoria, my stomach sickened from the rough bar crossing between ocean and river. Two mighty forces pushed against each other and I wondered if that was Keil and me. We stayed a day in the Oregon coastal town so I could rest and see another doctor. Then we took a smaller craft toward Portland. The costs of this journey grew, and I knew Sarah had not loaned us more than the first passage. Karl had provided the rest. I was in debt to him. Maybe I always would be. In debt to his kindness, to Mary’s midwifery, to Sarah’s understanding. I owed so much. People had kept us alive after Christian’s death. I owed them too. Maybe I even owed Jack.