Adam’s Bride Page 4

  “There wasn’t much of a choice. Since I don’t know this area well, I was afraid I wouldn’t find my way back to town with the snowdrifts and the weather being the way it is. Once it clears, my brother and I can go and find a few men to help, but until then, we couldn’t let your sap go bad, now could we?”

  He fingered the edge of his worn blanket. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’ve done, but I can’t have you and your brother working my maple crop for me.”

  “And why not? You’ll never get well if you don’t get your strength back, and either we do the work or buckets sit full of wasted sap.” Lidia’s eyes brightened with her smile. “Drink some of this broth and stop worrying. Fretting over things you can’t do anything about will only make you grow old quicker, as my babcia used to say.”

  “Your who?” Adam took a sip of the broth and felt the warmth of the liquid run down his throat.

  “My grandmother. You’d have liked her. She was almost as stubborn as you are.”

  He shook his head at the comment then winced as the pain returned. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, it did seem as if his stubbornness had once again gotten him into trouble. If he’d listened to his father, he would have the help he needed instead of having to rely on a young girl who barely weighed more than a feather. The days might be warming up, but she had no business working out there. Harvesting a maple crop was hard work.

  Ignoring the guilt that surged through him, he tried to stand, determined to get out of bed. He crossed the wood-planked floor in uneven steps.

  Lidia grabbed his arm. “You’re too weak to get out of bed.”

  “I’m fine.” His jaw tensed. “Just let me sit in the other room for a while, then I promise to go back to bed.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  He watched as Lidia bustled around his kitchen. He had plans to sand the cupboards and replace the stove, but time hadn’t allowed it. There had been so much work to do, and the kitchen had never been a priority. Suddenly, he wished he’d made it a priority.

  Lidia pulled a pan out of the oven, and the yeasty aroma of freshly baked bread wafted to him. It and the fragrant broth were much more alluring than the smells of burnt biscuits and stale coffee that normally filled the room. He had no problem fixing beans and overdone biscuits in his kitchen, but he’d certainly never stopped to consider what a woman might think about his living conditions.

  “I’m sorry about the kitchen.” He cleared his throat. “It wasn’t exactly built with the needs of a woman in mind. The supplies are a bit low. …”

  “I’ve managed to make do.” She waved her hand in his direction. “Once you’re up and around, you’ll need something hearty to eat like a steaming pot of bigos, though you’re right. Your store of food is completely inadequate, even if it is just for one man.”

  “Bigos?”

  “Stew. My father could never understand how a man could survive without a steamy bowl of stew on the table at night. It’s full of different meats and vegetables.” She dried her hands on a dishcloth. “I’ll make you a huge pot one day, and you can taste it for yourself.”

  She must have realized how intimate her comment might be interpreted because Adam caught her sheepish expression after she’d said it. Her cheeks reddened as she turned away from him, pushing a strand of auburn hair out of her face. Once he got out of bed, she would leave and there would be no reason for her to ever make him another meal. His pulse quickened despite his earlier resolve to forget her.

  “Tell me about your family,” he said.

  Lidia shrugged as she finished washing the dishes. “There’s not much to tell. My parents emigrated from Poland to America when I was six. I never saw my grandmother again.”

  He could hear the marked sadness in her voice. “And your parents?”

  “They died during a cholera outbreak a little over a year ago. Now it’s just me and my brother.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s no sense in dwelling on the past.” She shook her head, as if trying to erase the memories inside. “What about your family?”

  “My parents live a few miles from here on a farm where I was raised with my brothers and sisters.” He cleared his throat. “There’s seven of us now. Samuel was killed last fall.”

  “I’m sorry. You must miss him tremendously.”

  “I do.”

  As much as he appreciated Lidia’s and her brother’s help, he couldn’t help thinking of his own brother. The deafening sound of a gun firing. His brother lying dead on the street. Anger welled within him at the memories. He knew his sister Rebecca was right. It wasn’t fair to blame an entire people for one man’s wrong, and he knew Lidia had nothing to do with his brother’s death. But knowing the truth and stopping the anger inside him had proved to be two different things.

  Part of him wanted to reach out and comfort her for her own losses. To tell her that everything was going to be all right despite the horrible heartache she’d lived through. The other part of his soul still grappled over what he’d lost. There was no way around it. Seeing Lidia only reminded him of his own pain and his own guilt in allowing it to happen.

  Struggling to remain sitting up, he fought against the growing nausea. While he appreciated Lidia and Koby’s help, he needed to find a way to finish the job—alone.

  five

  Adam shoved his boots on before stepping out onto the porch. The morning sun greeted him, a pale circle against a white sky. He pulled up the collar of his jacket against the wind, not needing to look at a thermometer to know the temperature wasn’t rising fast enough. And if he was reading the sky correctly, a storm was coming in. Though it wasn’t unusual for cold snaps or warm days to temporarily stop the run of sap, he was anxious that the weather conditions hold for at least another two weeks so he could collect his entire run this year. He already had a buyer lined up for his syrup, and he would need every bit of cash he could earn in order to continue with his expansion plans for the land.

  He rubbed his hand against the side of his head, thankful that the swelling had gone down. After another two days of recovering, he’d made no promises to Lidia that he would stay in bed as she and her brother had slipped outside to begin another day of harvesting. Even if the sap weren’t running, there would still be plenty of work to do. Supplies needed to be scalded to prevent the syrup from spoiling; necessary repairs to the buckets and other equipment would need to be made, as well as extra wood chopped for the fire.

  Lidia rounded the corner of the house with two buckets in her hands, stopping when she saw him. “Adam. I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I couldn’t stay in bed another minute.” He read the look of concern in her eyes as her brow furrowed, and he forced a grin. “I’m fine. Really. And I’m ready to get back to work. A man can only stay cooped up in that cabin for so long.”

  “You’re still weak.” She set the buckets on the porch and started up the steps. “And you need to eat something.”

  “I already did. I found the leftover biscuits you made. Tasted as good as my stepmother’s, which is saying something. She’s a fantastic cook.”

  “I’m glad you liked them.” He caught her familiar blush as she spoke and couldn’t help but warm at her smile. “I’m sure you felt the cold snap last night, and the temperature’s not warming up like it needs to. I’m not sure how much we’ll be able to collect.”

  He’d expected her to tell him that he needed to march back inside the house and get back in bed, but apparently she’d decided not to argue with him today. He was glad, even though she’d probably be right.

  He leaned his palms against the porch rail. “A break in the weather will give me a chance to get caught up.”

  Lidia picked up the empty buckets and started across the snow toward the grove of stately maple trees. He followed her through the sugar brush, amazed at her endurance. He had poured so much of who he was into this land and knew the backbreaking effort it took to harvest the sap.

&nb
sp; The buckets hung from each tree waiting to collect the sweet liquid. Some of the trees spanned almost four feet in diameter. Others were much smaller, but Old Man Potter had told him they were all at least forty years old.

  “Did you know that as the tree grows, the bark doesn’t expand with it? You can see how it keeps splitting open.” Adam ran his hand across the shaggy bark. “These trees are as individual as people.”

  She came to stand beside him. “Meaning?”

  “One might produce sap that is consistently sweeter than the others while another’s sap might taste like water. And their sap runs differently, as well. Some manage a good run every year and others might produce a lot less.”

  “Who taught you about the harvest?”

  “Old Man Potter owned this property. I started working for him when I was about fourteen, and while he was a bit of a codger, he became like a grandfather to me.” Adam smiled at the memory of the gray-haired man who had been an active part of every harvest until the year he died. “He taught me the science of tapping a tree for the best results, how to study the bark as well as the new growth, and where to set the buckets. When he died, he left me the land.”

  “That’s quite an inheritance.”

  “I suppose I was the grandson he never had. While he never told me, rumor has it his only son was killed in a gunfight back in Kansas in the ‘50s.”

  “You must have meant a lot to him, then.”

  “He meant a lot to me, too.” He fidgeted, uncomfortable with the way the conversation had turned. “You know, if I close my eyes I can almost taste the syrup.”

  Lidia’s eyes lit up when she smiled. “This has always been my favorite time of the year.”

  “Mine, too.” As he lifted one of the buckets off the tree, he was surprised at how much he enjoyed her company. “It’s crazy, I guess, but while my brother dreamed of being a doctor, my dreams always centered around God’s good earth and the things I could produce with it.”

  “That’s not a crazy dream. I think that’s why I love poetry. Much of it describes nature so beautifully.”

  “Do you write your own?”

  “Poetry?” Lidia lowered her gaze at the question. “When I find the time. I have a book where I write down thoughts and ideas, though my attempts certainly couldn’t compare to some of the great poets of our time.”

  “Who said they had to?”

  Adam tried to ignore the stirring of his heart when he looked at her, but he couldn’t. What was it about Lidia that set his senses alive when he was around her? From the first time he’d looked into her dark mahogany eyes and caught the rosy blush that swept across her fair cheeks, she’d affected him like no woman ever had.

  The wall he’d put up around him was beginning to crack. He was now able to see Lidia as an individual person, not simply a Polish immigrant.

  “What’s your favorite kind of maple syrup?” Lidia’s abrupt change in subject amused him. While she emitted a certain confidence, at the same time he sensed a streak of vulnerability within her. And that only made her more captivating.

  Adam smiled at the question. “Without a doubt, maple cream. Spread it on a piece of hot bread and it’s like a bit of heaven right there in your hand.”

  “That’s my favorite, too. That and a tall stack of pancakes dripping with hot syrup. Then there’s the music and singing at the annual sugaring off.”

  “While I’ve never been much on social gatherings, you do have a point.”

  Lidia laughed, then picked up one of the buckets filled with sap. “Do you feel like walking to the sugarhouse? Or would you rather take the wagon?”

  “It’s not far. I’ll walk.”

  Five minutes later, Adam stepped out of the chilly breeze that blew through the maple grove and into the warmth of the sugarhouse. The aroma of hot syrup lingered in the air from the sap that was being boiled down. Taking in a deep breath, he felt his body relax. There was something about this first rite of spring that always invigorated him. Looking at the bubbling vats, he saw that everything had been done exactly as needed.

  “I don’t know what to say. I’m amazed at how much you’ve accomplished.”

  Koby stood in the corner of the room stirring the sap.

  Adam reached out his hand toward the boy. “I don’t think I’ve thanked you properly for what you’ve done, young man.”

  Koby shook his hand and cracked a smile. “It’s better than working for the old crow at the factory—”

  “Koby!” Lidia’s eyes widened.

  “Well, it’s true.” The boy went back to stirring the hot liquid in slow, circular strokes. “She’s not exactly the friendliest overseer in the world.”

  “She’s always been good to us, Koby, and you know it.”

  Adam paused, confused. “You work in one of the factories?”

  Lidia played with the folds of her skirt and nodded.

  Why should he be surprised? A majority of immigrants worked in the factories. Adam swallowed hard, realizing for the first time that their sacrifice to help him ran far deeper than just the physical strain involved. “They’ll fire you for this.”

  “Probably.” She bit her lip.

  Koby took a step toward him. “Trust me, it’s no great loss, Mr. Johnson. There are other factories looking for workers, unless you’d like to hire us for the rest of the season. There’s plenty of work that could be done here—”

  “Koby, that’s not appropriate for you to ask.” Lidia kept her words low and steady, but there was an obvious hint of pride behind her statement.

  “Fine.” The boy’s dark brow puckered. “Like I said, there are other factories in the area willing to take advantage of us like the old … I mean Mrs. Moore.”

  “I wish I could offer to hire you both.” Adam cleared his throat, not knowing how to respond to the boy. “I’m just not sure how I could pay—”

  “Of course not.” Lidia whispered something to her brother before moving to empty one of the buckets into the vat. “We would never want to put you in such an awkward position. We’ll be fine. Right now, all we need to worry about is the work before us.”

  Adam cringed. He’d never given a second thought to the conditions of the surrounding factories that dotted the state. Even with new laws that limited the number of hours children were allowed to work, he knew that the labor was hard, rules stringent, and the pay minimal. It wasn’t the kind of place he wanted to see Lidia working in—or Koby. But he knew that even if he wanted to hire them for the rest of the season, he simply didn’t have the means to pay them. If they lost their jobs on top of everything else …

  “Let me speak to Mrs. Moore on your behalf.” Adam caught her troubled gaze. “Once I explain what happened, I’m sure she’ll be sympathetic.”

  Lidia shrugged a shoulder. “It might make a difference, but please don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.”

  She smiled at him, and his heart pounded. She looked small and vulnerable beside the large iron vat. He shouldn’t feel this way. Something inside him made him want to protect her. To gather her into his arms and promise her everything would be all right.

  A wave of nausea swept over him, and he leaned against the wall for support.

  Lidia grabbed his arm and led him to a wooden bench in the corner of the room. “You’re not strong enough yet.”

  “I’m fine. It’s just a dizzy spell.”

  “No, it’s not. You’ve overdone it.” Lidia glanced up at her brother. “If the snow melts enough by morning, we’ll go into town for help.”

  “Didn’t you know? All Polish fairy tales have at least one dragon.” Lidia laughed as she leaned closer to the fire that crackled in the stone fireplace of Adam’s small cabin.

  He sat across from her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “And like the story you just told, are the princesses always rescued by handsome heroes?”

  “Of course, just like the stories you tell in this country.”

  Two more days had passed, and Lidia found
herself wanting to suspend their time together indefinitely. Tonight the stars loomed bright overhead, signaling an end to the gray, overcast skies and below-normal temperature that had stopped the flow of sap.

  While they had waited for the daytime temperatures to rise, Lidia spent the long days scalding the utensils for the sap harvest, while her brother ensured there was plenty of wood to keep the vats of sap boiling. Adam had worked intermittently as he slowly regained his strength, repairing the handles of several of the buckets when he wasn’t resting or engaging in snowball fights with her brother.

  Adam’s cheeks had lost their pasty appearance, and it was becoming clear he wouldn’t need her much longer. Besides that, now that he was up and around again, it wouldn’t be proper for her to stay even with her brother beside her.

  It was time to go into town to find someone to help Adam with the rest of the harvest. Then she would return to the factory where she could only pray Mrs. Moore would graciously agree to keep her and her brother on as employees.

  Koby snored softly beside her on the small couch. She put her arm around him and pulled him close. In spite of the hard work he’d accomplished, she hadn’t missed seeing how he’d thrived this past week. Being outside in the fresh air, away from the demanding labor of the factory, had done wonders for him. She’d seen him smile for the first time in months, something even she hadn’t been able to get him to do before.

  Adam had a way with him, as well. Lidia was convinced he’d gotten out of bed sooner than he should have, but even in his weakened state, he seemed to find the energy to encourage her brother. And now she would have to take Koby away from all of this.

  Something cried out from the darkness beyond the cabin.

  “What was that?”

  Adam cocked his head. “Sounded like an owl.”

  “No.” She leaned forward and put a finger to her lips.

  She listened carefully as an animal rummaged in the trees. “Are there animals that might get into the buckets?”

  “Might be. I’ll go check it out.”

  “I’m coming with you.”