Sisters in Jeopardy
Copyright© 2026 by Rachael Jane
Chapter 2: Lise Leaves Germany
March 1851
The morning Lise left home, the valley lay under a thin veil of mist, the kind that blurred the edges of the vineyards and made the world feel half-formed. The sun had not yet risen above the hills, and the air carried the sharp bite of early spring. Frost clung to the thatched roofs like a warning.
Lise stood at the gate of the cottage, her satchel slung over one shoulder, her shawl pulled tight against the cold. The house behind her looked smaller than she remembered ... leaner, as if Marta’s death had hollowed it out. Smoke rose weakly from the chimney where Greta had coaxed a fire to life, more for comfort than warmth.
Her sisters gathered around her in the pale light. Greta’s eyes were red, though she tried to hide it by keeping her chin high. Adelheid clutched Lise’s arm as if afraid she might vanish before their eyes. Irmgard pressed her face into Lise’s chest, her hands gripping the fabric of Lise’s dress with desperate strength.
“You don’t have to go today,” Adelheid whispered. “You could wait another week. Or two.”
Lise smoothed a strand of hair behind her sister’s ear. “If I wait, I’ll lose my place on the ship. And the longer I stay, the harder it will be to leave.”
Greta swallowed hard. “But the world is so big, Lise. And you’ll be alone.”
“I won’t be alone,” Lise said gently. “There will be other travellers. Other women. And once I reach St. Louis, I’ll find work. I’ll find Papa. Or someone who knows what became of him.”
“And then you’ll send for us,” Irmgard said, her voice muffled against Lise’s dress.
Lise turned and pulled her youngest sister into her arms. “Yes. I’ll send for you as soon as I can. I promise.”
A crunch of footsteps on the frosted path made them all turn. Frau Keller, their nearest neighbour, approached with her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She was a stout woman with a stern face softened only by the kindness in her eyes. She had brought them soup after Marta died, and bread when the girls had none.
“Lise,” she said, her breath clouding in the cold air. “You’ll miss the riverboat if you don’t start walking soon.”
“I know,” Lise replied, rising to her feet.
Frau Keller looked at the three younger sisters, her expression firm. “I’ll keep an eye on them. All of them. No one in this village will trouble your sisters while I’m here.”
Greta let out a shaky breath of relief. Adelheid nodded, though tears slipped down her cheeks. Irmgard clung tighter to Lise.
“Thank you,” Lise said, her voice thick. “I don’t know how to repay you.”
“You’ll repay me by surviving,” Frau Keller said. “By reaching America. By finding your father, if he still lives. And by sending for these girls before the next winter takes what little we have left.”
Lise nodded. The weight of the promise settled on her shoulders like a second satchel. She turned to her sisters one last time.
“Be brave,” she said. “Look after each other. And remember ... this is not goodbye.”
Greta hugged her first, fierce and trembling. Adelheid followed, burying her face in Lise’s shoulder. Irmgard clung to her until Frau Keller gently pried her away.
Lise stepped back, her heart aching as she looked at the three faces she loved more than anything in the world. Then she turned toward the road that led down to the river, her boots crunching on the frost.
She didn’t look back. If she did, she feared her resolve would fail and she would never leave. The mist swallowed her within a dozen steps, and the sisters stood at the gate long after she disappeared, listening to the fading sound of her footsteps until the valley was silent again.
Lise followed the narrow path that wound between the vineyards until it reached the road to the river. The road was still slick with frost. The mist clung to the hillsides, softening the outlines of the bare vines until they looked like rows of skeletal fingers reaching out of the earth. She walked quickly, not daring to slow, not daring to think of the three faces she had left behind at the cottage.
By the time she reached the river landing, the early morning fog had begun to lift. The Rhine lay before her ... broad, grey, and restless ... its surface broken by the slow churn of a barge moored to the wooden pier. Men shouted to one another as they loaded crates and sacks, their voices echoing across the water.
Lise hesitated at the edge of the pier, her satchel heavy on her shoulder. She had never travelled farther than the next village. Now she was about to leave behind everything she had ever known.
A deckhand noticed her and jerked his chin toward the gangplank. “If you’re travelling north then you had best get aboard. We cast-off in five minutes.”
His tone was brisk, indifferent. To him she was just another emigrant girl with too much fear in her eyes, and too little money in her purse. Still, she was pretty enough. If she grows desperate she’ll have no difficulty in earning money by spreading her legs.
Lise stepped onto the gangplank. The barge master accepted her coin for passage. The wood creaked beneath her boots, and for a moment she felt as though the river itself were pulling her forward. When she reached the deck, she found a place near the railing and clutched it with both hands as the barge lurched away from the pier.
The village near the pier almost immediately slipped from view, swallowed by the morning mist. She imagined her own village further up the valley, with Greta standing at the cottage door, Adelheid pacing the kitchen, Irmgard crying into Frau Keller’s apron. The ache in Lise’s chest tightened until she could barely breathe.
But the river did not care. It carried her northward, past ruined vineyards and shuttered mills, past villages where the church bells tolled for hunger and fever. Other passengers boarded at each stop ... farmers with hollow cheeks, widows clutching bundles, young men with eyes full of restless hope. Some spoke in low voices about America, about land and wages and the gold that glittered in the rivers of California.
Lise listened, but she didn’t join in. Her thoughts were fixed on a single question: ‘Is Papa alive?’
The barge reached Cologne by dusk. The great cathedral rose above the city like a dark mountain, its spires lost in the clouds. Lise had never seen anything so vast. She slept little that night, curled on a wooden bench beneath her shawl, listening to the creak of the hull and the distant tolling of bells.
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