The Carousel Painter

by Judith Miller

  When the sermon ended, I breathed a sigh of relief. I hoped the preacher would move on to some other book of the Bible next week. After the benediction was finally given, I was only too happy to hurry out the church doors.

  Folks didn’t stick around to visit. Everyone was in a hurry to get home, change clothes, gather up their baskets of food, and join the fun. The day was perfect—warm with just a slight breeze. On the way home, we walked past several houses with flowering lilac bushes. Their sweet perfume reminded me of my mother, and I wished I could pick a few of the blooms and take them home with me.

  “Come along, Carrie. We’ve got to hurry if we’re going to be on time for the streetcar.” Mrs. Wilson had turned and was waving me forward with a feverish zeal.

  I wanted to argue that it would take only a few minutes to complete our preparations. We’d finished most everything before we’d departed for church. But arguing would only use up the precious time Mrs. Wilson hoped to save. Besides, Josef was tugging me along, so I had little choice.

  As I’d predicted, we completed our tasks in record time and were some of the first to arrive at the park. Mrs. Wilson scuttled toward the pavilion to reserve space at one of the tables, and picnic basket in tow, Mr. Lundgren followed behind. I followed Mr. Lundgren, and Josef followed behind me. We must have looked like dutiful sheep following our shepherd.

  The older woman stopped only briefly before locating the table she wanted. She pointed with her right hand and waved us forward with her left. “Right here,” she said. “This is where we’ll have our lunch.” Josef placed our picnic basket alongside the one carried by Mr. Lundgren, and Mrs. Wilson gave a firm nod. “This is a good spot. We’ll be in the shade.”

  “I brought a blanket and thought it would be nice to eat under a tree near the water,” I said. “But we’ll leave our basket here for now.”

  “You young people can get up and down on a blanket, but folks my age can’t get up once we get down there.” She chuckled. “But if that’s what you want to do, that’s fine with us. We’ll sit at the table to eat our food.”

  The four of us left the pavilion and joined the other folks who’d arrived. Soon several of the men were leading groups of varying ages in sack races and relays. Mostly the children participated, but before long some of the adults joined in the fun, and those of us watching became a cheering section for our favorites. The crowd continued to increase in size, and eventually Josef and I were standing shoulder to shoulder.

  “Could I interest you in joining me as a partner in one of the relays?” asked a voice from behind us.

  Our lips were only inches apart when Josef and I turned in unison. Behind us, Gunter was grinning wide enough to cause crinkle lines along the edge of each of his deep brown, sparkling eyes. Josef visibly stiffened at the sight of his old friend, and all visible signs of pleasure vanished from his face.

  “Carrie is with me. To the picnic, we came together.” As if to emphasize his position, he held his head higher and was now looking down at Gunter.

  Gunter’s relaxed demeanor and lazy grin remained intact. He shrugged his shoulders. “Because she came with you does not mean she can’t be my partner in one of the games.” He extended his hand to me. “Come. To stand around and watch is not fun. Is much more fun to join in.”

  I shook my head. “I am with Josef, but thank you for the kind invitation. And we are having a very nice time. The games are fun to watch, but I don’t care to participate. If I did, I’m certain Josef would willingly act as my partner.”

  Gunter didn’t appear deterred. He leaned against a nearby giant oak tree and folded his arms across his chest. His rolled-up shirtsleeves revealed his muscular arms to advantage. “Then here I will stay, too.

  I will enjoy the games along with the two of you.” He flashed another wide grin. “I hope you have enough food in your basket for three. I’m famished.”

  Mrs. Wilson took a backward step. “Did I hear you say you’re hungry?”

  Gunter nodded. “I’m hoping my friend Josef is going to invite me to share lunch with him.”

  “Oh, Carrie didn’t pack enough for three, but I have more than enough in my basket. You follow Carrie and Josef up to the pavilion, and they’ll show you where we’re sitting.”

  Gunter quickly accepted the invitation. It was only later when he realized Josef and I were going to be lunching elsewhere that he tried to escape Mrs. Wilson’s invitation. But the older woman wouldn’t be deterred. Before Gunter could make an escape, she had him seated beside Mr. Lundgren with a checkered napkin on his lap and a heaping plate of food in front of him.

  Josef and I laughed as we spread our blanket on a grassy spot not far from the lake. “I think Gunter is unhappy with both of us,” I said, offering Josef a roast beef sandwich on buttered brown bread.

  “He should not be interfering in our day.” He took a bite of the sandwich, and his eyes widened with obvious surprise. “This is gut.”

  “Thank you.” His compliment pleased me and caused a stirring deep inside that I hadn’t expected.

  “You made this?”

  “Part of it,” I said.

  Although I couldn’t take credit for the roast beef, I’d given Mrs. Wilson some hints on how to roast meat without a stringy or tough result. She’d done an excellent job. Even the bread she’d made on Saturday morning was tender. We had worked together on the desserts and the biscuits she’d insisted would be needed to go along with her homemade preserves. We each packed a glass jar of lemonade with chunks of ice and extra slices of lemon for added tartness, then wrapped it in newspaper to keep it cold.

  “All has very fine taste,” Josef said.

  He held out two cups while I unwrapped the jar of lemonade. When I’d filled them both, he handed one to me and then took a drink. “This is nice and cold.” He pointed to the newspaper. “That is a gut idea, ja?”

  I laughed and agreed. Conversation came easily during our lunch, and I was surprised yet pleased by Josef’s openness. He told me how Mr. Galloway had visited him in Philadelphia and convinced him to come to work in Collinsford. I hadn’t realized until that moment that Josef owned a small interest in the carousel factory and that he and Mr. Galloway hoped to one day expand and become the largest carousel factory in the country.

  “Maybe one day a carousel from our factory will sit in this very park.” His eyes shone with excitement.

  “It sounds wonderful, Josef. I’m sure your hard work will make all your dreams come true.”

  He lightly touched my hand. “Someone beside me to share the dreams is needed to make it very gut.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Was he simply making an offhand remark, or did he mean something more? Understanding Josef had become increasingly difficult. I was hardly qualified to judge his intent. My emotions had been in a constant state of upheaval since the first day I’d set foot in Collinsford.

  CHAPTER

  17

  Friday and Saturday,

  May 23 & 24

  Now that Gunter had joined us in the paint shop, Mr. Galloway and Josef were eager to meet the deadlines for each order. Since his arrival, we had worked at a rapid pace to complete the horses, and a rack was now ready for final inspection. I waited in anticipation while Mr. Tobarth paraded around the horses like a general inspecting his troops.

  I’d grown to admire Gunter’s ability with a brush, but he didn’t take the time to shade or thoughtfully consider his color choices. Otherwise, I’d not been able to find fault with his work. Yet I hoped Mr. Tobarth would declare my horses of finer quality. Gunter apparently didn’t care, for he’d gone to eat his lunch with Josef. On several occasions while walking home with Josef, I’d mentioned how important I considered the color choices and shading. He never actually voiced his thoughts, but he listened intently to what I said. I was certain he agreed with me, for he’d inquired about the techniques I had used in the past when painting portraits or still lifes.

  Mr. Tobarth scrutinized each of
the hooves and the horses’ flowing manes. Then he stroked his hand along the bodies and gave attention to the eyes and nostrils of each of the carved animals. He grunted and nodded while he examined the flowers, the shields, the garlands, and the occasional dog or fox carved behind the cantles.

  Finally he stepped back from the rack and stroked his jaw. “These are all good. I’ll have Josef give ’em a final look-over, but I can’t find a thing wrong with any of ’em.” Running his hand down the neck of a giant jumper, he said, “Josef will be relieved to hear all of yours passed my inspection.”

  Relieved to hear my horses passed? I blinked away the tears that unexpectedly blurred my vision.

  Mr. Tobarth gently patted my shoulder. “I know you were worried what with your lack of proper trainin’ and all, but I can’t find much to complain about with your work.” He ambled back toward the rack and rested his hand on one of horses. “ ’Course we knew we could depend on Gunter for his usual excellent work.”

  I deflated quicker than a balloon losing air. From what Mr. Tobarth said, both he and Josef had considered Gunter’s work excellent and mine merely passable. Fiery anger wrapped its hot fingers around my spine and jabbed me like a burning poker. I wanted to shout that I was the better artist. A sharp jab stopped my rebuttal and pricked my conscience— pride! Why did I always want to be best? Why couldn’t I be pleased when someone else received a compliment or did something better than I did? I should be happy for Gunter and delighted we’d completed our order on schedule.

  “You done a fine job, Carrie. Once you begin to paint at a faster pace, it’ll be hard for anyone to outshine your work.”

  Mr. Tobarth’s praise eased my pain, but soon an unbidden sadness crept over me. I had never understood these strange feelings of pride and jealousy, but I wanted to rid myself of them. I’d been praying God would remove them from my life, but my prayers hadn’t been heard—or if God had heard them, they were still on His waiting list.

  That afternoon I worked with less enthusiasm, but I did pray with more fervor. I wanted to become a person who didn’t envy others. After all, life wasn’t a competition, it was a personal journey—that’s what Mr. Tobarth had told me when he’d first mentioned my problem with pride. I knew he was right, but that didn’t make it any easier.

  When Gunter ambled across the expanse and into the sanding room to instruct one of the men working on a horse, I glanced around the paint shop. Only Mr. Tobarth and I remained. I took a moment to watch him draw his brush in a perfectly straight line before beginning to fill in the reins with a deep chocolate brown. His steady hand amazed me. He must have felt my gaze on him, for he turned and looked over his shoulder.

  “Not happy with what I had to say earlier, are ya?” There was a glint in his eyes.

  I considered telling him I was just fine, but then I admitted my disappointment. “I don’t want to be jealous. I’ve even prayed about it, but God hasn’t answered my prayers.”

  He chuckled. “You are the most impatient gal I’ve ever met. You keep on prayin’, and God will answer. But be prepared—He may send some things your way you ain’t expectin’.”

  I wasn’t sure what Mr. Tobarth meant, but Gunter returned to his work area, and our discussion ended as quickly as it had begun. When the bell sounded at the end of the day, there hadn’t been a chance to question him further. Removing my apron, I decided I might ask him tomorrow.

  Crossing the threshold into the main work area, I could see Josef waiting for me. He laughed and joked with the workers passing by on their way out the door. His easy manner and ability to both supervise and work alongside the men amazed me. He didn’t seem to suffer from feelings of pride or envy.

  We’d talked more and more during our walks to and from the factory, and each day I could feel myself growing fonder of him. And each day I hoped his feelings matched my own.

  His smile broadened when I approached. “Did you have a gut day?”

  Had I? In some respects it had been a very good day, yet in others not so good. “I accomplished a lot.”

  The answer was enough to satisfy him. “I heard today about a dance at the pavilion in the park. Tomorrow evening, it will be.” He wiggled his finger back and forth between the two of us. “Pleased I would be to have you attend with me.”

  My stomach roiled, and a sick feeling washed over me. “Oh, Josef. I would love to go with you, but I’ve already promised to attend the Galloways’ housewarming party tomorrow evening. I’ll be there until Sunday. Could we—”

  “Nein! Pretend I did not ask.” He locked his shoulders and formed his lips into a tight, thin line. Shades of red splashed his cheeks and trailed down his neck. There was no doubt my refusal had embarrassed him. “You go. Enjoy with the Galloways their fancy party and fancy friends. I can see this is what you like.” I grasped his arm, but he pulled away. “Save for those fancy men, your smiles and friendly behavior.”

  His words lashed with the sting of a horsewhip. I stared at him in amazement. I’d never before seen Josef behave in such a manner. This man I had recently considered the perfect Christian had lost control of his temper—out on the street with people passing by. I couldn’t believe his behavior. I wasn’t certain if it was my gaping mouth, for I’d gone slack-jawed, or the staring passersby, but Josef’s features slowly relaxed as he regained his composure.

  “Sorry, I am, for my, my . . .” He drew circles in the air with one hand.

  “Bad behavior or outburst?”

  “Both. Sorry I am for all of it. Accept, please, my apology.”

  The anger that had flared in Josef’s eyes only a short time earlier had been replaced with shades of sadness. Hoping to raise his spirits, I pasted on a smile and said, “And here I thought you were almost perfect.” We continued to walk toward home.

  “Perfect, I am not. My faults are many, and my temper. Ach! With this I have the greatest trouble.” He shook his head and looked down at his scuffed shoes. “Even my prayers to change, they go unanswered.”

  I could barely believe my ears. Josef didn’t receive immediate answers to his prayers? “That happens to me, too,” I said. “I pray and pray, but still God hasn’t changed me.”

  He nodded with understanding. “Is gut you pray about your pride.”

  I stopped midstep. “Why did you assume this was about my pride?” Granted, Mr. Tobarth, Tyson, Augusta, and Mrs. Galloway had all mentioned my pride, but now Josef acted as though my issue with pride was a matter the entire city of Collinsford regularly discussed.

  He shrugged. “Is very clear that with your pride, you still have problems.” He hesitated a moment.

  “You’re right—I still have a problem. Just like your prayers about a bad temper, God hasn’t answered my prayers about pride. What do you do when God doesn’t seem to hear your prayers?”

  “Wait and keep praying is the only answer I can give you. When God is ready, He will answer. But work to make ourselves better, we must do. God will help us, but He isn’t the only one who must do the work. With that I am not so gut.” He touched his hand to his chest. “Anger does not please God, so work on this I must.”

  “Maybe we can help each other,” I suggested. “When you see me acting prideful, you could signal me. And if I see you beginning to exhibit signs of anger, I could do the same.”

  “What is this signal you speak of?”

  “It can be anything we decide upon.”

  We both grew silent and considered the idea. It would need to be something other people wouldn’t question.

  “I know! We can pull on the ear,” he said, yanking on his right earlobe.

  “I suppose that would work,” I replied, pleased that we now had a common bond—even if it was only pulling on our ears.

  The following afternoon Josef and I walked home together. Assuming he would spend the evening sitting on the front porch with Mr. Lundgren and Mrs. Wilson, I asked, “Do you have plans for this evening?”

  A thick lock of hair dropped across his
brow when he bobbed his head. “Ja. I will go to the pavilion with Gunter.”

  My mouth was so dry the air caught in my throat when I tried to swallow. I was certain my hearing hadn’t failed. Josef was going to the dance—without me. I could picture the scene in my mind. The single young ladies would throng around him, eager to have the manager of the carousel factory lead them onto the dance floor, each one hoping to win his heart. But I couldn’t object. I had refused his invitation.

  I did my best to smile, but I doubted it was any more than a lopsided grimace. “I’m sure the two of you will have a nice time.”

  “Would be nicer with you along, but Gunter said he would help to find me some dance partners.”

  I gritted my teeth. Leave it to Gunter to offer help where it wasn’t wanted—at least not where I wanted it.

  Josef stopped on the porch when we arrived at the boardinghouse. “Out here I will sit until supper. The weather is nice.” He opened the screen door for me and then stepped back toward one of the chairs.

  “I must go in and complete my packing.”

  “Ja. You need to finish. For me there is time enough after supper to get ready.”

  I nodded and climbed the stairs to my room. Why had he reminded me of his outing! Now I must fight both jealousy and pride. While I placed my clothes on the bed, I did my best to remain focused on what I would need until my return tomorrow. As frequently as I packed, I should have memorized a list of the items, but it seemed I always forgot something. Of course, Augusta easily came to my rescue with whatever was needed. While I packed several combs for my hair, I considered Mrs. Galloway’s missing necklace. Perhaps I would learn that it had been returned to her. Not likely, but I could hope.