Chapter 11
Hans made quick work of hanging the shutters on the ground-floor windows while Anna and Sarah took turns holding the bucket of nails up to him.
During their first winter alone, after the pox had carried away Martin and Samuel, Anna and Sarah had managed to shutter only the ground-floor windows facing north, and even those sagged and banged loose in the season's first blizzard.
The next few years, they had help from other farmers and villagers, everyone in Trenton pitching in to make each other safe from the elements, but then the war came, scattering men and boys, splitting families between Loyalists and Patriots, and it seemed it was every farm for itself again.
And Anna was determined not to make the mistake again of assuming herself enmeshed in a community that would come to her aid in times of need.
On this cruel continent, beset by danger and disease from every quarter, self-sufficiency was one's only salvation.
Three widows alone stood hardly a chance of survival; three widows and a strong young man, a better chance; and with a brood of children, growing strong and free on this plot of land, they could build something together that would outlast whatever trials the wilderness threw at them.
From the way Sarah blushed when Hans emerged from his bedroom, and the way Hans stammered in her presence, Anna was sure that the first part of her plan was well underway. If Hans hadn't planted his seed in Sarah's womb already, she was sure that he would soon enough; it was only a matter of time.
"You'll need to fetch the tall ladder from the barn," Anna called up to Hans when he had finished hanging the last of the ground floor shutters.
The wind was rising already, bringing a damp chill from the north, and she had to shout to be heard over its roar.
Soon the wind would be carrying ice as well; Anna could already imagine the sharp claws of the storm digging into the walls of their farmhouse.
"Sarah, help Hans set it, and I'll meet him at the window with the shutters and nails. "
***
From the upstairs window facing the barn, Anna watched as Hans and Sarah carried out the long ladder and set it against the house.
They had an ease together now, a camaraderie built not just on one night spent in passion, but from a morning of working together on a common project.
She could hear their laughter, lifted on the swirling wind, as the ladder tottered and tipped and then finally stood solid between them.
Anna leaned on the windowsill, the cold wind stinging her face, and waited like a princess in a high tower for her prince to reach her.
She recalled the feeling of anticipation on her wedding night, when she waited, in the very bed that was behind her now, for her groom to claim his bride.
How excited she had been, but also how fearful!
She understood in her mind what to expect — she had, after all, grown up on her parents' farm, and had been present at many couplings of cattle and horses — but her body was untutored, inexperienced, and afraid.
It took all her force of will to wait quietly and meekly beneath the quilt for Martin to come to her, when what she wanted was to fling herself from the window and flee into the night, or tear the door off its hinges and drag him to her like a she-beast in heat.
When Martin did finally arrive, blushing and shy despite their many years of acquaintance, Anna had been balanced on a knife's edge of desire and nearly came undone at his first meek kiss.
And a good thing, too, because Martin came undone himself almost before he had made her a woman, spilling his seed in anxious haste.
Fortunately, their lovemaking became more successful after that, and together they explored every mood of lust: lazy, rainy mornings; heated rutting when neither could control their desires; majestic and passionate nights when it seemed the darkness stretched into eternity and no world existed except their bed and their bodies.
And yet, however pleasurable their many couplings had been, Martin had never succeeded in planting his seed in Anna's womb. Every month Anna waited with hope, and every month the curse came, making her fear she was barren. When the pox stole Martin, she might as well have been.
The ladder rattled as Hans climbed it, rung by rung, and Anna felt her heart beating faster with anticipation.
For a moment, she was that young bride again, torn between exhilaration and terror, as she awaited her groom.
She dragged herself away from the open window just long enough to grab the long black shutters from the box in the hall, struggling as the ungainly pieces dragged along the wooden floor.
Hans' face was just clearing the windowsill when Anna leaned the shutter against the wall, panting a bit from the exertion.
He had a look of concern at the top of the rude ladder, but also of elation, as though he had climbed a lofty Alpine peak and was seeing the world from God's vantage point.
It made her own heart pound a little harder; her Hessian soldier had risen to every challenge she had laid before him so far, and she was ready to give him an even bolder task to face tonight.
When Hans put his hands on the sill, Anna knelt before him and took his face between her hands, pulling his lips to hers for a kiss that was full of all the promise and desire she had kept locked in her heart for the last six years.
He gasped when she released him, and he might have toppled backward into space if she had not grasped the collar of his shirt and drawn her lips to his ear.
"Tonight," she whispered, her breath hot on his skin, "You will come to me tonight, Hessian soldier, and you'll plant your seed in my womb."