I saw your smile, I felt your warmth
I sensed your spirit before I ever felt your touch.
Even then I knew,
The scent of your hair,
The sound of your voice echoing off these hills,
Would never be too much.
Glarus, Switzerland, August 22, 1843
Amalia took a deep breath and glanced up at the Romanesque church tower pointing toward the azure sky. Built five hundred years earlier, it was the tallest building in the village. Inside, she could hear the organ playing her favorite hymn, “Now Thank We All Our God.” She nervously touched the wreath of wildflowers resting atop her exquisitely braided brown hair—just a quick check to make sure it was still in place. Then, holding a bouquet of yellow violets in one hand, she reached for her father’s arm with the other and took the step that would change her life forever.
It was the wedding she’d always dreamed about—flowers, food, music. Everything was perfect, except for one thing—she was marrying the wrong man.
This wasn’t her original plan, but she wanted more than anything to be good—and good daughters were expected to obey their fathers. Despite her lack of affection, Herr Grob had assured his daughter that she would learn to love her new husband.
Along with submitting to her father, she was getting something in return—a good provider who would ensure a stable home to raise her children.
It was a small wedding, and the guests didn’t begin to fill the austere church—but Amalia’s family and friends came to wish her well. Many of the guests—along with her parents—believed she was making a good match because the groom was a carpenter and shouldn’t lack for work.
In the Canton of Glarus, Switzerland, in 1843, the small farming community of Obstalden was struggling. Famines, sickness, and weather patterns had destroyed crops and disrupted life for over a decade. Despite hard times, the community came out to celebrate the union—bringing their best cheese, wine, and potato dishes.
While the minister rambled on about the duties of marriage, Amalia’s eyes wandered to the washed-out mural on the tower’s wall. Painted by the church fathers three centuries earlier, it was a fading reminder that human lives are short—while God alone is eternal.
She lowered her eyes in shame as she imagined a cloud of holy witnesses watching her make this solemn promise—to marry one man while she loved another.
In those moments before she said, “I do,” she pondered which was the greater sin—to disobey her father or marry a man she didn’t love.
Did she even have a choice?
As soon as the preacher declared them man and wife, the new couple stepped outside to light the bride’s wreath. The groom lifted the wildflowers from Amalia’s head and handed the symbol of her virginity to his bride. Swiss tradition predicted that the faster the wreath burned, the better the bride’s luck. They smiled at each other while the groom’s cousin Anton held up the torch.
Afterward, rumors spread that Anton had been distracted by an eagle flying overhead and took too long to light the torch, while others wondered if the torch had ever been adequately lit. Regardless, a strong wind came up from behind and snuffed out the flame.
Women gasped, men groaned, and gossips turned to each other, asking what it meant.
Unflustered, Amalia looked up at the sky. She figured it was a reminder that God was sovereign. If she were going to have good luck, it would depend on divine timing—and she must remain patient.
The shocked villagers remained silent, staring at the unlit wreath, until someone shouted, “Throw the bouquet!”
Ever compliant, Amalia turned her back to the crowd. She imagined that some young girl would catch it and put it under her pillow to dream about her future husband, as she had once done.
Tossing the flowers over her shoulder, she caught sight of turquoise Lake Walensee far below the village and winced as a pang of regret hit her stomach.
She ached not only for what was—but for what might have been.
The Alpenhaus © 2025 Cherilyn Christen Clough All rights reserved.
Audiobook I E-Book I Paperback
Amazon I Kobo I Payhip (link below)
Listen to the Prologue and Chapter 1, Walensee: