Winter's Torment Read Free

honest with each other, okay?”
    Winter knew that what he said made sense, but she just couldn’t wrap her mind around it. She didn’t want disagreements, and she didn’t want to argue. With Gunter, it had been easier to just let him have his way rather than risk a shouting match that ended with nothing but hurt feelings and an upset stomach, for her at least.
    She looked over at him, sitting across from the small wood kitchen table they shared. She had managed to prepare a cold supper of cheese, bread, and dried beef. She saw a slight flush in his cheeks, which assured her that the topic of conversation was a little embarrassing for him too.
    But he didn’t understand. He couldn’t. How could any man understand what she was going through? She could sense some disappointment from him, which made her sad, but she didn’t feel as if there was anything she could do about it right now.
    “I… I think you’re a good man, Henry,” she started, “and I can only pray that you’ll have patience with me. It’s just that, everything is so different here, and…” She glanced down at her plate of a half nibbled piece of cheese lying next to the piece of dried beef. She picked it up, knowing that she needed to eat, but her stomach roiled with anxiety. “I can’t talk about it right now,” she finished at last.
    He frowned slightly, not so much an intimidating frown, but one of confusion or frustration.
    “I’m your husband now, Winter,” he said. He glanced down at his own plate, snatched up the last piece of dried beef, and then pushed his chair back from the table. “Most of all, you need to learn to trust me.”
    “I’ll try, Henry. I will,” she said. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel as if I’m floating in a dream. I… I—” She surged back a bubbling surge of grief as she thought of her little son. “I left everything near and dear to me back home—”
    “Winter, this is your home now,” he said gently. “I know you’re grieving, but just be careful that your grief doesn’t consume you. It has the power to do that you know.”
    She glanced up at him, wondering. Had he experienced such grief? Had he ever known the depth of regret, sadness, and loneliness that she felt at the absence of her son? Could he possibly understand what it was like not to feel her toddler bouncing in her lap anymore, tucking her child into bed at night and kissing his soft plump cheeks, singing lullabies, or any of the other things that she had taken for granted before her son had died so tragically?
    Winter watched as he stepped toward the front door. He paused before he reached for the knob and glanced back over his shoulder at her.
    “I’ll sleep out in the barn for a night or two, but then we have some talking to do. Cold weather’s coming, and I don’t plan on spending the winter in the barn.”
    With that, he opened the door and quietly closed it behind him.
    Winter’s heart sank. What a way to start a marriage. She knew it wasn’t really fair for her to expect him to sleep in the barn, after all, they were newlyweds. Church law stated that, as a married woman, she was expected to acquiesce to certain duties for her husband. But the plain truth of the matter was they were still strangers, or at least as far as she was concerned. In the eyes of God they were married, and the Good Book of the law might say they were married, but as far she was concerned she had to get to know him better first. She needed time to deal with her own emotions and deep-seated grief before she could even begin to think of Henry Olson as her husband… her new husband.
    She wondered what Gunter was doing. Was he was happy that he had divorced her and turned his back on her? If she didn’t do the right thing or behave the right way with Henry, would he do the same? Would she end up abandoned again? The thought sent a frisson of fear through her.
    With a sigh, she rose from the table, took the plates to the washtub, and