“Gust, please,” Wilma said, taking a step toward him. Proper ladies weren’t supposed to know what went on in the wild town near the lumber camp, but knowledge of the bad women there cracked through Wilma’s gut like a whip.

“I wish things could be different, Wilma. You don’t know how much, how much I’ve suffered with it. My own brother’s wife—!” He clamped his mouth closed, swept his blue eyes over her, and then he turned and was gone.

She hurried to the front window, watching as he pounded down the porch steps and slid his way down the snowy hill to his waiting horse. He climbed up into the saddle and kicked the bay into motion. She watched until horse and rider faded away into the swirling snow.

“Oh, it’s an April fool,” she sighed with relief after John came home one afternoon to tell her that Gust had been crushed to death up in the woods when the fall of a tree had been misjudged. She had panicked at first, before realizing it was April first, and that John was certainly joking.

“Wilma, do you think I’d fool about such a thing?” John said. “I didn’t even want to tell you, in your condition, but I thought you should know. Pa’s gone up to get his body. I’m making arrangements for the funeral. It’s going to be on Saturday.”

He caught her when she fainted. Chase was born just after midnight.

For days, she was unable to stop weeping. She clutched her sweet, uncomplaining baby to her both waking and sleeping, thinking, My fault. Here is what happens when I disregard the Rules.

Baby Chase was all that saved her. Gust had touched him in her womb. Her love was bound with shame, but she could not deny it; God knew the truth, anyway.

Finally, Dr. Seguin, summoned by a worried John, told her that if she didn’t stop crying, her milk would turn sour and make the baby colicky. They deemed her too ill to attend the funeral.

Chapter 20

FAITH LUTHERAN CHURCH
La Crosse, Wisconsin
Sunday, February 14, 1943

The cavernous church had been quiet when Elissa, Muriel, and Betty first arrived, but now a steady flow of people in their Sunday best, and many men in uniform, filed into the church in an almost unbroken stream. Elissa was sitting straight in the pew and trying not to be too obvious about looking over her shoulder, looking at her watch. It was 10:27, and there was still no sign of Nick.

Muriel, sitting next to her, nudged her with her elbow. “Don’t worry, Liss, he’ll be here,” she whispered. It was all Elissa could do to manage a smile.