Liesel thought about the long letters she’d received from Sophie, the ink often smeared by tears. Romantic wasn’t a word she would use to describe Sophie’s feelings. Regret, perhaps. Despair.
“She misses Homestead.”
Amalie shrugged as she plucked another tomato off the vine. “I suppose I would miss it as well.”
“I know I would miss it.”
The Gartebaas shuffled away to check on someone else’s work.
“There is much for you to miss, Liesel. In a few months you will be married.”
“You will marry someday.”
“Perhaps…” Amalie moved her basket farther down the row. “Have you seen Emil lately?”
She shook her head. “Not since our picnic.”
“I thought he would have visited by now.”
Liesel loosened another bulb with the tip of her shovel. “The Elders must not have given him permission.”
“I can’t imagine why not….” Amalie clamped her jaw shut.
“He respects the Elders.”
Amalie nodded, her smile forced. “Of course he does.”
“I’m sure he will visit as soon as they approve.”
“Right.”
Liesel rocked back on her feet, sitting on the moist ground. She couldn’t convince Amalie of Emil’s intentions if she couldn’t even convince herself. Still, was this what all the women thought? That Emil didn’t want to visit her?
She brushed the dirt off her apron. Surely Emil wanted to see her, but for some reason, the Elders hadn’t wanted them to visit each other quite yet. Perhaps they wanted to ensure that their love for each other could withstand even the possibility of sickness and death.
Emil was faithful to the Elders’ instruction. If he wasn’t, he would have come.
The question that scared her even more was not whether Emil would come, but whether she wanted him to come.
Amalie popped a small tomato into her mouth and swallowed. “I’m sure you will be excited when you see him.”
“Absolutely,” Liesel said, even though the word felt sour on her tongue.
Not that many months ago, Sophie had spent a year in Main Amana waiting to marry Conrad Keller. Her dear friend had pined for her betrothed and cried giant tears whenever he left the village to hike back to Homestead. Even though Conrad was the son of an Elder, he still snuck to Amana almost every week without permission because he couldn’t stand to be separated from the woman he loved.
Every time he arrived, Sophie would run from the gardens to greet him. Though she had refrained from embracing him in public, her face had shone with love for the man who wanted to marry her.
Not once during Liesel’s engagement to Emil had he snuck away to Homestead to be with her. When she’d left Amana in February, he had hugged her and told her he would count the days until he saw her again, but during their visits since, he hadn’t mentioned day-counting, nor had he said that he loved her.
If one day she looked across the gardens and saw Emil running to her, she wouldn’t be ecstatic, but she would be glad that he still cared for her.
She sighed. At least she thought she would be glad.
Tugging her last radish out of the ground, she picked up her basket and moved away from Amalie, toward the bed of cabbage.
Even if she couldn’t muster much excitement, Amalie and the other women mustn’t guess at her lack of enthusiasm—and affection—toward Emil Hahn. No matter her feelings, she would be faithful to her promise.
Her mind wandered, and she wondered what it would be like to look across the gardens and see Jacob smiling at her. Waving. She would run to greet him and then he would pull her into his arms….
She grabbed a head of lettuce and pulled it so hard that the leaves shredded in her hands.
Stop it! She shouldn’t be thinking about other men, especially not an outsider like Jacob. Even entertaining thoughts about him was dangerous to her soul.
Love was a fleeting emotion. No matter what happened, she would honor her promise and care for Emil the best she could.
A breeze ruffled the leaves of the cabbage, and a low cry rattled over the beds. She glanced back at the fence around the Kinderschule as the cry grew louder, and she knew. Cassie Hirsch needed her.
After a quick scan for the Gartebaas’s bonnet, she found the woman ten or so rows down, staring back at her.
“Go tend to her,” Helene said with a wave of her arm.
Liesel rose from the ground and rushed toward the school.
Through the haze of smoke, Marshall Vicker stared back at Frank, his eyes as clouded as the air in the saloon. Frank hadn’t wanted to come to a wretched saloon, nor had he wanted to meet with Marshall, but he had no choice if he wanted to avoid the lawsuit Marshall was threatening to slap on him.
Marshall had sold his sailboat and wanted to purchase a bigger one to sail with friends on Lake Michigan before summer’s end. Last week Frank had explained to Marshall that it would take a few days to get his money, and the man refused to wait any longer. When Frank fudged on giving him the seven hundred, he demanded the entire amount in his account. Three thousand dollars.
Frank rolled his shoulders, trying to purge the knot lodged in his neck.
He had no choice but to tell Marshall the truth. The man could take him to court along with Caldwell and the others, but the cost to hire an attorney would deplete the little money left in the vault. If they proceeded to court, his customers would get the bank’s assets instead of cash—assets they would have to pay taxes on until they could sell the property…and no one knew when property would start selling again.
Perhaps Marshall could help him contrive a way to find Jacob and his stash. If not, the entire bank—including Marshall’s savings—would go under.
Marshall’s eyes narrowed. “You’re saying this Jacob Hirsch stole my money.”
“Your money and multiple others.” The bottom of Frank’s mug trailed wet ringlets as he pushed it across the table. “I don’t know how much is missing.”
“The money vanished. Right out from under your nose.” Marshall snapped his fingers in Frank’s face, and he jumped back.
“I was checking the books, every day. Nothing looked amiss.”
“You didn’t check close enough.”
“Jacob hid the original set of books.”
“I trusted you, Frank.” Even in the dim light, he could see anger contort Marshall’s face. “There’s not another bank in this blasted city that I’d trust with my money, but I thought you would watch over it like it was your own.”
Frank looked down at the rough table, wiping up the watermarks with his sleeve. His friend was right. He should have caught this scheme long before he let Jacob go. He should have wondered why several of his faithful customers were withdrawing small amounts instead of depositing their cash as they’d done for years. But since times were hard, he hadn’t questioned it.
Marshall cleared his throat. “You used to have a surplus.”
“We handed out fifty thousand in the panic last summer.”
“And your capital?”
“Invested in businesses and mortgages.”
“So Jacob Hirsch stole from your reserves.”
“Apparently.”
Marshall squeezed his hands together. “We have to find him.”
Frank leaned back against the booth. He hadn’t planned on telling anyone about the bank’s loss yet, but perhaps Marshall could use his reporter’s instincts to help him sniff out the man who’d robbed them both. He’d have to use his instincts, though, without writing an article. A news story would nail his coffin closed.
“I’ve been trying to find Jacob,” Frank said. “But the police refuse to help.”
“Someone has to know where he went.”
“I haven’t been able to locate any family in Chicago.”
“Then talk to his friends.”
Frank shook his head. “No one’s giving us information.”
Marshall slap
ped the table. “So you hire a private detective.”
“I can’t afford one.”
Marshall tapped his mug on the table, lowering his voice. “Then we have no choice. We’ll have to use the free press.”
Frank shook his head again, harder this time. “I don’t think so.”
“It’s our only option.”
Frank closed his eyes for an instant as he envisioned all of his remaining customers outside the bank, waving the Daily News in their hands, demanding their money.
“An article will ruin the bank.”
“Your bank is already ruined.”
“But we can recover, Marshall. We can track him and our money down, and when the economy starts growing again, I’ll sell off the property and homes the bank owns.”
Marshall picked up his mug and drained it. “You really think you can recover?”
He squared his shoulders. “Eventually.”
“And my money?”
“I’ll pay you back every cent.”
“So maybe we compromise.” Marshall rested his chin on his hands. “I write an article and talk about the theft from one of the city’s most prestigious banks.”
He sighed. “Then every bank will have a run on their capital, including me.”
“You’re certain that Jacob Hirsch was your thief?”
“Absolutely,” he retorted. “The ledger was in his house.”
“All right.” Marshall leaned closer. “So maybe we don’t mention the bank. Instead we write an article about Jacob Hirsch.”
“You’d have to mention the bank.”
“I’ll report he stole from a local company and then disappeared.”
Frank twisted his mug again. “Someone could trace him to my bank.”
“How could they do that?”
Frank blinked, thinking of the ramifications of such an article…and the ramifications if he refused to cooperate. Marshall would sue for his money and so would Caldwell and the others.
If he opted to let Marshall write the article, though, someone could figure out that Jacob once worked for him. Then again, Marshall could write the article without permission and headline the bank’s name for revenge.
If he worked with Marshall and anonymously offered some sort of compensation, someone might give them information to lead them to Jacob. Even if Jacob had fled the city—and he was likely in Florida or California by now—perhaps a friend or relative in Chicago could tell them where he had gone.
“I’ll put up a reward to find him. Three hundred dollars.”
Marshall’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have money for a reward.”
“I will when we find him.”
Who can stop the wind that My Spirit stirs as it rushes from the profound depths of Love Itself?
Johann Friedrich Rock, 1720
Chapter Eighteen
Liesel’s sunbonnet bounced on her shoulders as she skipped through the forest, her fingers clasped around Cassie’s small hand. It was glorious, skipping over the stones and branches in the woods, with no one but Cassie watching her.
Cassie didn’t care if Liesel pulled up her skirts and hopped like a bunny or twirled in circles under the canopy of silvery leaves. Her toes ached in her narrow boots, yet she felt more alive than she’d felt since she was a child herself, chasing her friends through the forest.
A tapestry of bluebells shimmered in the sunlight, and a Baltimore oriole dipped in front of them, its orange breast a bright flame against the muted browns and greens. The oriole landed on a branch and cheered them along with his chirping.
Liesel ducked under the branch and the bird trailed behind them, hopping from tree to tree as if he longed to join in their fun. “He wishes he could skip.”
Cassie slid her fingers out of Liesel’s grasp and flapped her arms. “I wish I could fly.”
“Me too,” Liesel said, running forward, the breeze ruffling the calico draped over her arms. Strands of hair fell from her hairnet, stringing across her forehead and neck.
Ahead of her, Cassie’s auburn hair bounced with curls. Her monster tears from this morning were long gone, replaced by a smile and a song. “A tisket, a tasket, a green-and-yellow basket.”
Liesel poked her arm. “What’s a tisket?”
Cassie shrugged and then twirled around, her arms fluttering in circles. “I sent a letter to my love and on the way I dropped it.”
A cloud passed under the sun, and the shimmering light in the forest faded to gray. With one last chirp, the oriole disappeared back into the trees.
Cassie’s cries had scared Liesel this morning, but she was glad of them now. Glad that God had softened Helene’s heart and that her baas had told her to leave her work until tomorrow so Cassie could visit her father.
Ten days had passed since Jacob left to dredge the canal, and every morning Cassie asked to visit her father, but until the quarantine was lifted, she couldn’t leave the house. The doctor was concerned about her walking so far this afternoon, so soon after she’d recovered, but his heart had softened as well when Cassie’s tears flowed fresh. He, too, agreed that Liesel should take the girl to find Jacob’s boat and even added that the long walk might do her some good too. No one argued that it would do Cassie good to see her father.
Sunshine flooded the forest again as they rounded the bend. A narrow bridge stood before them, wooden railings on both sides. It was the only way to cross the wide Iowa River between Homestead and Main Amana.
Liesel hesitated, but Cassie tugged on her hand. “Come on.”
She grasped the girl’s hand as they stepped onto the bridge together. Below them the current rolled over the rocks, traveling east, but Liesel kept her eyes focused on the trees in front of her. Only a hundred or so steps and they would be on the other side.
“Look.” Cassie stopped on the bridge to point down at the water.
Liesel froze but didn’t move toward the railing. With a quick glance, she saw a snapping turtle paddling upstream. The creature’s long neck twisted to the side, and he ducked under the water.
Cassie leaned through the wide slats of the railing for a better look, and Liesel tugged her back, away from the edge. Cassie struggled against her grasp, but Liesel pulled her off the bridge and onto the safety of the bank.
Cassie stuck out her lower lip. “I wanna watch the turtle.”
“Can you swim?”
Cassie shrugged, her neck craned to catch another glimpse of the turtle. “A little.”
“Well, I can’t,” Liesel said. “If I jumped in after you, you’d have to rescue me.”
Cassie tugged on her arm to go back to the river.
Liesel bent down, eye to eye with the girl. “Nothing is as calm and peaceful as water, Cassie. In a basin or a glass it heals and it quenches our thirst, but in large amounts, it can hurt you.”
“I’ll be careful.”
Liesel sighed. No wonder Heinrich Hoffmann wrote Der Struwwelpeter. Young children didn’t listen well to reason. “Do you want to see your papa today?”
Cassie eyed the river for another moment before she nodded.
“Then we have to hurry to Amana.”
Cassie broke her gaze from the river and skipped forward, toward the fields in the distance.
A new thought settled over Liesel as she watched Cassie, one that startled her. She loved being Cassie’s friend, but at this moment, she didn’t feel like a playmate. She felt more like a parent. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to be a parent.
On the other side of the trees, they emerged onto one of the fields that supplied food for the Amana people. The pathway cut through maroon-tinged cornstalks and over a grassy field spotted with dairy cows. Amana’s Glockenhaus rose above the rooftops to their right, ready to call out to the other villages if there was an emergency.
The woolen mill stood east of town, and the waterway that powered the mill carved a channel through the field in front of them. Liesel stopped walking to watch the lofty trees sway in the village where she’d
been raised.
As the village carpenter, her father would be in his woodworking shop this afternoon, building a piece of furniture or a tool for the gardens. Emil’s work in the bakery would have finished hours ago, and he’d probably joined her father to help in the workshop.
Since Liesel had been a schoolgirl, her desire was to work in the Kinderschule, and Emil had had a desire, as well, for his profession. Instead of following his father’s path as a baker, Emil wanted to work as a carpenter.
When they were children, Emil always seemed to be carving something from the scraps her father provided. One summer, for her birthday, he’d carved her an ark with a dozen wooden animals. She’d played with it for years, and her father had been impressed with his work.
Main Amana didn’t have need for another carpenter, but one day they would. The Elders knew that Emil hoped for that position—coveted it, even—more than any other man in Amana did.
Liesel took another small step—westward to follow the Mill Race instead of toward Amana. She wished she could go visit her own father this afternoon, but she didn’t want Emil to think she’d come to see him. And even if she did want to go, they wouldn’t have time for a long visit. The sun would set in five hours, and they’d need to be back in Homestead before dark. A piece of her longed to go to Amana, but even more, she wanted to see how Jacob fared on the dredge boat.
Cassie tugged on her hand, and the two hurried along the pathway. Willow leaves draped over the slow-moving canal, and clusters of grapes grew wild along the path. She plucked a white grape and popped it into her mouth, the sour tang overpowering the sweet. Cassie bit into one and her eyes crossed as she spit the grape onto the ground.
Liesel reached above Cassie’s head and pulled down a vine of deep purple grapes. She broke off a cluster of the fruit and handed a grape to Cassie. Cassie waved her hands in front of her face. “No, thank you.”
Liesel ate the fruit instead. “The purple ones are sweet.”
Cassie eyed her warily, like Liesel might be pulling a trick on her, but she reached forward to take the cluster. Testing a grape on her tongue, she swallowed and reached for another piece of fruit.
Love Finds You in Homestead, Iowa Page 13