Chapter One is here. It is set in 2001 so you can read out of order
The morning fog still clung to the fields when Liesel stepped onto the deck of the riverboat at Prescott in Upper Canadaâor rather Canada West, she corrected herself. Her journey began weeks before, along the Danube in southern Hungary, where the air smelled faintly of wheat and woodsmoke, past villages of her childhood where Lutheran bells tolled softly in the heat of midday. She left home with little more than a small chest of clothing, her favourite scissors wrapped carefully in cloth, and a bundle of fabric to sew for herself and the new household she was to join.
Her family sent ahead other household goods to Canada as they all prepared to leave Hungary. Lutherans were not welcome in this Catholic land, and Canada promised more freedoms. Otto, her fiancé, waited for her in that new land. She barely remembered him from before his family left two years ago. His letters, at least, were kindly.
The voyage down the Danube was crowded and hot, the riverboats groaning under their passengers and freight. Then came weeks at seaâthe Black Sea to the Mediterranean. There was a rest in Barcelona, and then past Gibraltar into Atlantic winds that tossed the ship like a leaf, salt stinging her lips and eyes. She remembered standing on deck at dawn, the horizon burning pink, and the fear and nausea that rose in her throat each time the hull pitched. It had been tedious but tolerable, as her older brother Karl travelled with her as far as Halifax. From there he was headed to New York City.
Now she journeyed on her own, but in the company of an older woman who had taken Liesel under her care. Mrs. Donnell and her servant were returning to Kingston after visiting Spain. It was comforting to have Mrs. Donnell as caretaker and English-language tutor. Lieselâs English was rudimentary, but the weeks of ocean travel had given her plenty of time to practice. It also distracted her from what she had left far behind.
She missed her family and wondered how they were faring in Switzerland. If it werenât for Otto, and her promised marriage to him, she would be with them. The thought of Otto brought comfort and a flutter of nervousness. What if he had changed in the two years since he left? Liesel was tired of endless travel and the stench of ships, and now she worried that the destination might be something worse. She reread the last letter from Otto, holding it close to calm herself.
Montreal was chaotic: a city of shouting merchants, barrels stacked high, horses clattering over cobblestones. There she boarded a small canal boat that took her west along the St. Lawrence, passing rapids and shallow waters where the bateau glided carefully, men jumping ashore to guide ropes and push with poles. Locks hissed and churned beneath the vessels, carrying her closer to Lake Ontario than she had ever imagined.
From Kingston, a summer passenger steamer carried her along the lakeâs edge. The wind tossed her long chestnut hair as she leaned against the railing, staring at the dense forests and small farmsteads along the shore. Each bend of the lake made her heart pound a little faster; the endless green promised both freedom and the unknown. She held her bag tight, imagining blue-eyed Otto and the farm that would be her new life. He had described the land as paradise in his letters.
The last leg was overland in a wagon brought by Klaus, Ottoâs youngest brother, who arrived ahead to assist. The wheels rattled over stones and deep ruts, creaking under the weight of crates of household goods he had collected from the warehouse. The wagon lurched worse than the passenger ships, though the land journey smelled better than the reek of sea and damp holds.
The wind carried the scent of hay, wet earth, and the faint tang of river water still clinging to the roads. Here and there came the smell of smoke from farms and small towns. The pleasant scents did nothing to soften the three-day wagon trip from Toronto. Her body ached after over two months of continuous travel from her familyâs old home in Hungary. It felt like another lifetime.
Klaus spoke nonstopâor would have, if the older wagon handler had not occasionally shushed him. He shared how dour sister Greta, the eldest sibling, was unhappy that Otto was marrying first. That Otto was as giddy as a new foal that Liesel would soon join them. That last part made her smile as she imagined her pragmatic Otto in such a state. And Klaus had far too much else to say, including many stories about the neighbour girl Hannah. Scandalous, she thought in amusement. Still it was good that Klaus had options for his future. It concerned her that apparently Greta had no suitors of her own.
Finally, Klaus shouted and pointed ahead. âLook, Lise, there is our farm. We just finished the house last week. Wellâthe main build. Thereâs always trim work.â Liesel glanced at him, surprised by his easy familiarity in calling her Lise. Only Otto had ever used that name; clearly, they had shared stories. Yet it felt right. She had left Liesel behind on the Danube. Here, on the muddy banks of a foreign river, she would be reshaped.
She turned to look at the houseâher new home. The air smelled of wet earth and new wood, sharp and promising, and her heart gave a small, nervous flutter at the thought of the life that awaited her. She had imagined this day countless times, but now the farmhouse rose before her: simple yet solid, its new windows catching the morning sun. The plain grey curtains hanging inside were a sudden reminder of her pending marriage, and all that it implied. Margot, the matriarch, stood quietly on the wide veranda that wrapped around the house, hands folded before her as she calmly watched.
The wagon stopped. Klaus jumped down to haul the trunks and crates with the farmhands. Lise stepped carefully down from the wagon, gripping her travel bag, then crossed onto the porch, her feet dusty, her hands unsteady.
Gretaâs dark eyes followed herâsharp and calculatingâas if already measuring her worth. Lise noticed the keys at Gretaâs apron pocket and understood at once: every change would be resented, every inch of authority contested. When Greta saw where Liseâs gaze had fallen, she pressed the keys deeper into the folds of her apron before speaking.
âKlaus, move our young guestâs things into the back room. We will sort them later. I am certain there is no urgency.â
Lise lifted her chin, summoning the resolve that had carried her across half of Europe and the Atlantic, ready to claim her place in the house Otto and his siblings had built while she dreamed of it from far away. Then Margot caught her eye and gave the faintest shake of her head. Wisdom indeed. The details could wait.
The door opened, and she caught sight of Otto. Her Otto, more handsome than she remembered. Her breath caught as she took in his muscular form, his light-brown, sun-bleached hair unrulyâhe needed a haircut. Tall and sturdy, with a faint flush to his cheeks, he smiled at Lise. Unaccustomed to such scrutiny, Lise felt a flutter of nerves as she returned his smile and greeted her new family. She held her small sewing bag close, knowing that her workâthe sewing, the management of the householdâwould speak for her more than words ever could.
Margot cut through the bustle. âNow, children, questions can wait. Welcome, Liesel. Let us get you inside and offer you a chance to rest and refresh yourself after your long journey. Greta, go fetch tea and the poppy cakes. Come, my new daughterâsee your new home.â
Otto held the door as Greta scowled. Lise was too tired to do anything but let herself be led.
