Sarah: Bride of Minnesota (American Mail-Order Bride 32) Read online

Karl nodded, brushing her cheek with the backs of his finger tips. "I just keep feeling like I'm a bumbler when it comes to you, Sarah."

  Sarah smiled. "You're only a bumbler if you don't learn. You didn't tell anyone I was hideous today, did you?"

  Karl shook his head. "I think I've learned that lesson."

  "Then we're getting better." She squeezed the hand she still held. "We're learning about each other together. Usually a couple learns before they marry, but we're learning after. It might take longer, but we'll make it work out between us."

  Her attitude made Karl want to run out and buy her flowers right then. He'd heard there was a florist in town. Certainly he could stop by after work tomorrow and get her something appropriate. "Yes, we will learn together."

  Sarah jumped up. "I made some cake today. Does that make you happy?" she asked, a grin on her face.

  He nodded. "See? You already know how to make me happy, and I'm still bumbling."

  She laughed. "But you're my favorite bumbler. That's what matters, right?" She put his plate of cake on the table in front of him, before sitting back down with her own plate.

  He took a bite, closing his eyes as the flavors exploded on his tongue. "It's delicious. Maybe you should burn dinner tomorrow so I'll feel a bit better about myself!"

  Sarah simply laughed as she took a bite of her cake. He may not be perfect, but he was hers, and he was teachable. Why, she couldn't ask for a better man.

  He sat in the kitchen with her, watching her as she did the dinner dishes. He couldn't believe his Sarah, the mail-order bride he'd sent for was so beautiful—both inside and out. He'd expected a marriage that would help him ward off the loneliness of the long winter nights in Northern Minnesota, but instead, God had provided a woman he was attracted to. He hoped love would grow from the initial attraction, because no matter how simple it had seemed to think he could live his life without love before she arrived, now it sounded like his own personal torture. Definitely it was not something he wanted for himself.

  Sarah glanced over her shoulder and saw Karl watching her. "Am I doing something wrong?" she asked, embarrassed.

  Karl grinned at her. "Is there some law against me watching my wife?"

  She shook her head. "It just makes me feel funny."

  "Why? It's my job as your husband."

  "It's your job to watch me? I thought it was your job to provide."

  "And to look at you. You are so much more than I expected."

  "More? What do you mean? Are you calling me fat, Karl?" Sarah stared at him, her mouth slack. Even he had better manners than that, didn't he?

  "Of course not!" Karl was shocked she'd even think such a thing. "You're slender and beautiful. I wouldn't change a single thing about your appearance!"

  She shook her head. "Really?" It was hard to believe he was complimenting her, but that did seem to be what he was doing.

  Karl stood up and walked over to her, removing the plate she was washing from her hands and putting it onto the counter. "You're a very beautiful woman, Sarah." He cupped her face in his hands, leaning down to brush his lips across hers. "I'm a very fortunate man to have found you."

  Sarah blushed, looking up into Karl's blue eyes. "You're a handsome man. If only you weren't a German—" She yelped when he grabbed her by her sides and tickled her. "No stop! I'm sorry!"

  "You are married to a German, and all of your babies will be German. You need to put the idea of a romantic Irishman right out of your head, Sarah!"

  "Or I could teach you to be a romantic German," she said, putting her arms around his neck. "Do you think that would be possible?"

  Karl shrugged. "It doesn't come naturally, but I've always been a quick learner. Sure, teach me to be a romantic husband. If you think you can."

  Sarah grinned. "Well, according to Mrs. Norman it's not possible for a German to ever be romantic. But I will try if you'd like."

  He sighed. "You are never allowed to talk to Mrs. Norman again. The woman is a bad influence on you."

  She laughed. "You would take away my only friend in all of Duluth? How could you do such a thing?"

  "I suppose you may visit her every other Tuesday for precisely six minutes."

  "Karl? Are you making a joke? Are German bumblers supposed to make jokes?"

  Karl shook his head. "I send off for this sweet Christian wife, and I get you. Oh why has my God forsaken me?"

  She pressed a kiss to his chin. "I guess He knew you needed a feisty Irishwoman."

  He simply hugged her close. "That is what I needed." After a moment he pulled away from her. "I will be in the parlor reading the newspaper. When you are finished, I'd love it if you'd join me there."

  Sarah slowly washed the skillet she'd used to make gravy, thinking about her new husband. She liked the idea of spending time in the parlor with him in the evenings. Maybe she could turn him into a romantic after all.

  Chapter Five

  Sarah finished the dishes, taking the small bar of store bought soap off the edge of the sink and giving her hands a quick scrub. She hated feeling grease on her fingers once she'd finished her chores.

  Making her way into the parlor, she sat on the right side of the couch, immediately picking up a shirt she'd put there to mend for him. She'd noticed it was missing two buttons and one more was hanging by a thread. While she talked to her husband about his day, she could easily mend the shirt, so he could wear it again.

  "I got all of the laundry finished and put away. I made a pile of the clothes you need mended. Are there any others you have stashed away somewhere that I haven't found?"

  Karl looked up from his paper, got up and moved to sit beside Sarah on the couch. He didn't crowd her or touch her at all, but he enjoyed sitting close to her. "I just kept wearing the things that needed to be mended. As long as I had an undershirt on, I was good."

  Sarah shook her head. "You won't need to do that anymore. I'll keep your clothes in good repair."

  "I appreciate how hard you work," he told her. "I didn't want you to come here just to cook and clean and mend for me though."

  She shrugged, brushing off his gratitude. "I know. You want children as well." She didn't look at him as she said it, a bit embarrassed by the topic.

  "I do. I want a wife and children, and I want someone to grow old with. I don't want to be alone."

  Sarah smiled over at him. "You're not alone. From now on, we'll work together on everything we do."

  He smiled at that. "I really do like that idea." Dipping his head, he went back to his newspaper, while she continued sewing.

  Her fingers shook a little. He made her more nervous than she cared to admit. Oh, how she wished Roberta were there to talk about her marriage with. Bobbie would give great advice, because that's what she did.

  *****

  Sarah made good use of her new rug beater the next day, hanging the rugs from the house on the clothesline out back and whacking them with all her might. She realized her husband may not be the most romantic man in the world, but he was the only man she'd ever be married to, so she needed to make the most of it.

  She had yet to explore the upstairs of the house, almost afraid of what she'd find there. The downstairs looked good, though, and she wouldn't be ashamed if they received an unexpected visitor.

  She left the rugs on the line and went into the house to begin dinner preparations, only planning a soup for the night's meal. She had fresh bread left to serve with it, and she knew Karl would eat anything she made.

  Once she had the soup on, Sarah made a slow ascent up the stairs to see how bad it was there. When she got to the top, she was surprised. There was a long hallway, and she walked down it opening each door. There was nothing there. It needed to be swept and mopped of course. There were eight rooms, obviously meant as bedrooms, which were completely empty. At the end of the hall was another parlor that she was certain was meant to be used as an informal family parlor. It would be great for when children came along.

  She looked out one
of the windows that looked over her laundry, and she could see a couple of streets over. There was a big lake on the horizon. She couldn't help but wonder what the name of the lake was, even as she hurried down the stairs to get the broom, mop and a pail of soapy water. She wanted the upstairs ready before Karl got home, and she only had an hour and a half. There were a lot of floors and windows to scrub during that time.

  *****

  Karl stopped at a florist's shop one of his men had recommended on his way home from work. It had been a particularly difficult day, because one of his men had called in sick, and they had a huge order to finish up. Instead of spending the day in his office as planned, he had spent the day helping his men chop trees. It wasn't that the work was beneath him, it was that he hadn't dressed for the cold temperatures. His fingers hurt from the biting cold as he walked into the florist's shop, looking at all the flowers around him.

  "May I help you?" asked an older lady Karl had never met. Duluth was a mid-sized town, and he didn't know a great deal of the people who lived there if they didn't work for him or go to his church.

  "I want some flowers for my wife," Karl said.

  "Did you have a fight with her?" the woman asked knowingly.

  Karl shook his head. "No, ma'am. No fight. I just want to take her some flowers so she knows I was thinking of her while I was working today."

  The woman blinked a couple of times. "You didn't do anything wrong?"

  "No, I didn't. We're newlyweds, and I want to take her flowers." He sighed. "Yesterday I wanted to take her a nice gift, but I took her a rug beater, and she didn't think that was as nice as I did."

  When the woman's sour face turned to a grin, Karl glared at her. "Can you help me find some flowers she'll like?"

  "What kind of flowers does she like?"

  Karl shrugged. "I have no idea. I just met her on Monday."

  The woman stared at him in shock. "She's your wife, and you've only known her for three days?"

  "That sounds right. Can you help me?"

  "Of course I can." The woman closed her eyes for a moment, as if she was about to undertake a great task. "Tell me about your wife."

  Karl thought about the question. "Her name is Sarah. She has medium brown hair and pretty blue eyes. She's an Irishwoman, and she wants me to be more romantic. Her parents were immigrants, and she used to work at a factory in the East."

  "That's not much to go by," the woman said, opening her eyes again. "But I think I have just the thing." She led him to a corner of her shop and picked up a bouquet of flowers. "Daisies. Do you know if she likes daisies?"

  "They're pretty. Do you have candy too?"

  The florist smiled. "I do have a bit of taffy I could wrap up for her."

  "That sounds perfect!" Karl said, happy the decision was made.

  Ten minutes later, he was leaving the shop with a fistful of daisies, and a small bag of taffy. This time Sarah would be pleased that he'd thought of her, and not try to figure out when he'd lost his mind.

  He called her name as he opened the front door, following his nose into the kitchen. He took a deep sniff of the air and smiled. His Sarah was a very good cook, and that was one of his first requirements for a wife. After being a good Christian woman of course.

  He looked around not seeing her, so he called her name again, a bit louder this time. "Sarah!"

  "I'm up here, Karl!" Her voice came from the upstairs, and he had no idea what she'd be doing up there. It was empty!

  He took the stairs two at a time, the bouquet of daisies and bag of candy held in one hand behind his back. He followed the sounds and found her in one of the very back bedrooms, scrubbing at a window. "What are you doing?"

  "Cleaning the house," she said, surprised he would even ask. Had the man never seen a woman clean before?

  "But—We don't even use this part of the house."

  "We will someday. I want it to be neat and clean for when we're ready for it."

  He shook his head. "You're something else, Sarah Schneider."

  She grinned up at him. "I'm glad you think so."

  He pulled the daisies from behind his back and held them out to her, a huge grin on his face.

  Sarah smiled, clapping her hands together. "Oh, they're beautiful!" She immediately burst into tears.

  "What did I do wrong? I didn't mean to make you cry!"

  Sarah sniffled and shook her head. "You didn't do anything wrong. I love them! My father used to bring my mother daisies all the time. It just brought back sweet memories. And no one has ever brought me flowers before. Well, only my best friend Bobbie, and it's not the same to receive a gift from your girlfriend as it is to receive one from your husband."

  He grinned. "I'm happy to hear Bobbie is a girl, because the name doesn't sound like it."

  Sarah laughed. "I told her that the day we met!" She took a quick step forward and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Karl. They're beautiful, and just what I need to brighten up the table at dinner."

  Karl pulled the bag of candy from behind his back. "I got you this too." He was amazed at how happy it made him to give her something that made her smile.

  Sarah took the small bag from him and looked in it. "Taffy! My favorite!" She smiled, shaking her head at him. "Will you always surprise me, Karl?"

  He nodded. "You never know. Tomorrow I might bring you a new pail so you can scrub floors!"

  She laughed. "And if you do, I'll thank you nicely."

  "Clothes pins?"

  "I'm going to finish this window and then be right downstairs," she told him, ignoring his silliness. "I'll meet you down there."

  "Does it have to be done right now?" he asked with a frown. Surely she should want to spend time with him now that he was home, not scrub windows.

  "It's the last one. If I get it done now, I won't have to come back up here tomorrow." She would make sure to air out the upstairs and keep it cleaned occasionally, but for now, there was little to do.

  He frowned. "All right. I'll see you in a minute."

  He went to the kitchen and washed and dried his hands after setting the flowers on the table. When she came down less than five minutes later, he had his newspaper and he was reading it at the table.

  "Thank you for waiting for me." She hurried to wash her hands and then she served the soup and the bread from last night. She would use the last of it for French toast in the morning. It was her favorite way to use up old bread.

  She picked up the flowers and put them in a glass and set them in the center of the table. If he made a habit of bringing her flowers, she would need to get a vase.

  As soon as she was sitting, her hand found his, and he prayed for them, thanking God for bringing her into his life.

  "The flowers and candy were a lovely surprise." Sarah was still in shock. Yes, she'd told him that was the right gift to buy, but she was surprised that he'd actually done it.

  Karl grinned at her. "I'm glad they made you happy." He looked around the kitchen. "I can't believe just how much you've done since you arrived. This place looks brand new."

  She smiled. "My mother believed in keeping a very clean home. I try to follow her example."

  "Just don't neglect your husband to keep your house perfect," Karl mumbled under his breath.

  Sarah put her spoon down, reaching out to take Karl's hand. "Are you feeling neglected?"

  He shrugged. "I just thought you'd come downstairs with me as soon as I got home, but you stayed up there to wash a window."

  Sarah grinned, shaking her head. "Well, it needed to be done. I'll do my best not to neglect you, though." She took another bite of her soup, doing her best not to laugh at him. He seemed almost like an overgrown toddler upset that his mother was playing with another child. "Do you work tomorrow?" she asked.

  He nodded. "I always have to work Saturdays, whether I want to or not."

  "But you'll keep the Sabbath?" she asked, hoping it was true. She wanted to spend Sunday with her husband. Of course, they'd go to church first, b
ut after, she wanted him to be there.

  "Yes, we'll go to church on Sunday."

  "Maybe we could go for a drive after lunch?" she asked. She remembered a weekend spent with Bobbie, and her father had the stable hand take them on a drive through the countryside. It was a glorious way to spend a Sunday in her opinion.

  Karl shrugged, nodding. "Do you like to go for drives?"

  "If it's not too cold, I love to. I haven't had much chance to do it, though."

  He frowned at that. "What was your childhood like?"

  Sarah smiled at that. "I believe I told you that I'm the youngest of seven children. I have four sisters and two brothers. My parents were both Irish immigrants who met in school when they were young. They married as soon as they were old enough, and Papa went to work in one of the factories there in Lawrence." She paused. "Did you know that Lawrence, Massachusetts, is a mill town? Many of the textile factories in our country are right there."

  He shook his head. "I didn't know that. Was that also where you worked?"

  "Yes, but much later. My parents were so much in love. Mama would sing as she worked, and she'd hurry to fix her hair right before Papa was due home. Papa would walk a mile out of his way during the spring and summer to pick wildflowers for her. We never had the money to pay for flowers, but that didn't matter to Mama. She was so much happier with the flowers he picked anyway. As soon as my brothers were old enough they worked in the factories as well, but Papa didn't want any of his girls there." She frowned. "He died in an accident at the mill when I was just fifteen."

  "I'm so sorry." Karl had lost his parents young as well, but he'd been finished with school at least.

  "My brothers kept supporting us, but Mama died when I was eighteen. She'd never been strong." Her eyes grew wistful as she talked about her mother. "So my friend Bobbie and I found two other friends to live with, and we found a job in the factory we were working in up until six weeks ago."

  "Did you enjoy working there?" he asked, wondering just how hard it had been on her to work in a place like that.

  She shrugged. "It wasn't good at first, because there was a man who ran it, and he was always mean to the women. He docked our pay for every little thing. But he moved away after our first two years there, and Bobbie was promoted to the manager. She was really good at what she did, but more importantly, her father was friends with Bob Brown, the owner of the mill."