“Yes. She loved books. She would read to me every night, and my father would take us to visit the big library in Cincinnati, where we would borrow books.”
“I am glad she married and was happy,” Sister Elsa said. “When she left East, I thought she would never be happy again. She was so in love. I remember how she cried and cried about leaving Brother Er—”
“Sister Martha! I brought some leftover Kuchen that we can enjoy later.”
“No need to shout, Louise.” Sister Fuch directed a confused look at Cousin Louise. “You handed me the cake when you arrived. I know I am to serve it to the women.”
“Is it a spice cake?” Sister Elsa smiled at me.
“Nein. It is plum cake.” Cousin Louise turned to Sister Dorothea, who was seated beside her. “You and Sister Barbara were friends, Dorothea. Tell Dovie what you remember.”
Sister Dorothea was a sprite of a woman with sparkling eyes and a quick smile. “I remember how much Sister Barbara loved to go to the river.” She motioned to Cousin Louise. “Do you recall the day we went down there and my brother almost drowned?”
Cousin Louise nodded. “He would have drowned if John Mueller hadn’t pulled him out by his shirt. That gave us all a scare for sure.”
The stories continued, most of them about the antics they had all enjoyed as young people, but Cousin Louise made certain Sister Elsa didn’t have another opportunity to mention my mother and the man she’d had to leave behind.
While the women talked and stitched, I listened, but my thoughts returned to the schoolteacher, Brother Erich. Had that been the man my mother loved? I thought the teacher must have been much older than my mother, but it could be possible. My own father was ten years older than my mother. Perhaps she preferred older men.
I knew Cousin Louise wouldn’t answer my questions about Brother Erich, but maybe I could find someone who would.
The next morning I walked outside to meet the bread wagon, uncertain how Berndt would greet me. I waved as he drew near and was pleased to see a smile on his face.
The moment he was close enough to hear me, I called, “Good morning!”
“Guten Morgen!” He jumped down from the wagon and stepped close. “I was worried you might be sick. Something important kept you away yesterday?”
I heaved a sigh of relief. “Yes, something very important.” I quickly explained what had happened. “I’m sorry you had to stand outside in the cold weather.” I glanced toward the kitchen house, knowing that if I was outside too long, Cousin Louise would scold us. “Can you go this afternoon?”
Berndt winked, and I could feel the heat begin to rise in my cheeks. For once, I was thankful for the cold weather. He wouldn’t see the effect he’d had on me.
“Ja, I can go. I will meet you by the stand of trees near the edge of town. Two o’clock?”
“Two o’clock. I promise I will be there this time.”
CHAPTER 14
February 1893
Karlina
I snuggled between the sheets and pulled the quilt tight beneath my chin. “Psst.” I waited only a second. “Psst. Are you awake, Dovie?”
The bedcovers rustled and Dovie giggled. “Yes. If I had been asleep, that hissing sound of yours would have wakened me.”
“It was not that loud.” We giggled together and a brief silence grew between us before I told her what was bothering me—why I wasn’t able to sleep. “I think my Mutter knows that sometimes you have been meeting Berndt.”
In the shadows I could see Dovie’s form as she pushed to a sitting position and rested her back on the headboard. “Why? What has she said? Tell me.”
“She asked if I knew what you’ve been doing in the afternoons.”
“And what did you tell her?”
I could hear the growing panic in Dovie’s voice. “I—”
“You didn’t tell her I’ve been with Berndt, did you? Because I don’t spend every afternoon with him.”
“No, I didn’t say you were with him.” Shifting to my side, I bent my elbow and rested my head in my hand. “I told her I was in the sheep barn in the afternoons and I could not say with certainty where you went after you finished your work in the Küche.”
Dovie sighed. “Thank you, Karlina.”
“You do not need to thank me. I did not lie. I have not seen you and Berndt together.” The defensive words rushed from my lips, as though I felt I had to prove I’d been truthful. “I know only the few things you have told me, but I never saw you with him.”
“Did she ask anything more?”
“She said she was going to talk to my Vater and see if I could go with you some afternoons when it is not so busy. She is worried about you, Dovie. She believes you are worrying too much about the past instead of planning your future.”
“I don’t want her to worry about me. The only thing I have wanted is to learn about my mother’s past. And now that I’m here, I still can’t get the answers I want.”
“Did Berndt gain any information about Brother Erich, the schoolteacher?”
Two weeks had passed before Dovie told me about Sister Elsa’s comment at the quilting bee. Instead of asking me or my Mutter, she had asked Berndt about Brother Erich. He’d never heard of the man but said he would see what he could discover.
“Yes, but I don’t think he was the cause of my mother’s unhappiness. From what Berndt told me, Brother Erich was round as a toad with bulging eyes, and he died before my mother left East Amana.”
I was glad Dovie had asked Berndt to conduct the investigation, for if I’d ever heard of Brother Erich, I couldn’t remember. And Dovie likely believed my Mutter wouldn’t give a direct answer about the schoolteacher. And I agreed.
“Is that all?” I wasn’t sure what else Berndt could have discovered, but I wanted all the details.
“What else could there be? Sister Elsa wouldn’t have been making a reference to Brother Erich if he was already dead when my mother and her family left the colonies. Other than asking Sister Elsa, I don’t know how I can find out.” Dovie was silent for a moment. “Maybe that’s what I should do.”
The muscles in my neck stiffened. “What?”
“Go and talk to Sister Elsa. Do you think she would tell your Mutter? Maybe we could come up with some reason for me to go and speak to her about something else, and then I could ask her. What do you think? Help me plan some reason to approach her.”
Dovie’s excitement bubbled across the short distance between our beds, but my chest tightened. If I became involved in some scheme to obtain information from Sister Elsa, my Mutter would be most unhappy with me. And I knew she would eventually discover any part I played in Dovie’s plan.
“I don’t think that is such a gut idea. All of the sisters talk among themselves, and Sister Elsa would surely tell my Mutter you’d been asking questions.”
“But what harm would it do? I don’t understand why everything must be such a secret.”
“I am not so sure there are secrets. I think it is only that my Mutter wants you to quit dwelling on the past. Why does it matter if your Mutter was sad when she left the colonies? She made a happy life in Cincinnati, ja?”
“That’s just it, Karlina. I’m not sure my mother was ever completely happy.”
“But you cannot change that, so what gut does it do to keep on with this digging into her early years?” My stomach tightened into a knot. “Dovie, why can’t you just enjoy being here with us?”
“I do, but I . . .”
Her voice quivered, and I sat up in bed. “Are you crying? Please don’t cry.”
She sniffled. “I don’t believe my mother was ever truly happy. I know she loved me. But I think if she had been given the choice between living here or with my father and me, she would have chosen life in Amana.” Her voice cracked as she uttered the final words.
“You torture yourself with these thoughts. Let me speak to my Mutter and see if she will reveal anything. But please don’t speak to Sister Elsa. She is a sweet l
ady, and I do not want trouble to brew between her and my Mutter.”
My offer satisfied her, and I thought she’d drifted off to sleep.
Suddenly she spoke. “What about you and Anton? I know he cares for you. I see the way he watches when you are in the same room with him.”
“You see things that are not there, Dovie, but we have become gut friends. Since the trouble with Berndt, I have seen great changes in him. Not once have I seen him lose his temper. He is more patient, and the sheep will even follow him out to the pasture now without problem.”
Dovie chuckled. “If the sheep like him, then I am sure you will think he is wonderful.”
“It is true that being gut with the sheep is important to me, but I am pleased that he has gained control of his temper. And it has made him happier, too. After his fight with Berndt, we talked for a long time. He said he never wanted to hit another person, and he needed to find a way to control his anger.” Lying there in the darkness, I recalled how sad and defeated Anton had looked that day. The inability to control his temper plagued him, and he’d begged me to help him find some way to overcome his failings.
The wood slats beneath Dovie’s mattress creaked. “What did you tell him?”
“That I did not think he would be successful unless he looked to God for help. I told him that I had kept my promise and had been praying for him every day, but he needed to pray for himself every day, too—to ask God to give him the strength to overcome his weaknesses.”
A narrow shaft of winter moonlight danced across Dovie’s face. “Did he agree?”
“Ja. He asked me to pray with him each morning when we go down to the barn before breakfast. It is how we begin each day.” I smiled in the darkness, pleased that we’d developed this habit. I believed the practice had drawn me closer to God, too. “I also suggested that he recite a passage of Scripture if he felt his anger begin to take hold.”
“And did he also think that was a good idea?”
Dovie sounded as though she didn’t believe Anton would ever consider doing such a thing. “Ja. He even asked me what I would recommend.”
“Really?”
“Ja. And I told him I thought the shepherd’s psalm would have a calming effect.”
Dovie giggled. “He should have known you would suggest the twenty-third Psalm. I am glad you have been able to help him.”
“It is God who has helped him, not me.”
“Yes, but you pointed the way. My mother used to tell me that there are times in our lives when we need people to point us in the right direction. That’s what you did for Anton.” She was still for a moment. “And no matter what you say, I think he is in love with you.”
I didn’t respond. If I let myself think about love, it would make my friendship with Anton uncomfortable, and I didn’t want that to happen.
The following morning before I’d had time to say my morning prayers, Dovie reminded me of my promise.
“I will speak to Mutter, but I want it to be at the right time. It is better that I approach her when we will have no interruptions and I don’t have to hurry back to work.” I saw the look of exasperation on Dovie’s face, but I didn’t let it dissuade me. “I know her better than you. Please let me do this my way.”
“Just don’t take too long. Each day I worry there will be a letter from my father telling me he will soon arrive to escort me to Texas.”
“Ja, I understand. I will do my very best.” When Dovie hurried out the door to meet the bread wagon, I sighed with relief.
While I finished dressing, I considered when I might find the proper time to speak with Mutter. In the kitchen she was surrounded by the other sisters, and when we were in the parlor, either my Vater or Anton was around. Maybe on the way home from prayer service this evening. There wouldn’t be enough time for a full discussion on our short walk home, but if I gained Mutter’s interest, she would make certain we had time by ourselves to finish the talk. With my plan decided, I made my bed and walked downstairs, feeling much relieved.
I hummed a tune as Anton and I walked to the barn. He nudged my arm and grinned. “You are happy this morning.”
“Ja. It is a gut morning. Lots of sunshine, and I get to see if you have learned to keep the records the way I taught you.”
Over the past weeks I’d been showing Anton how we entered the detailed records for each of the sheep. Records regarding their feed, illnesses, and treatments; the amount of wool each one produced at shearing time; and the number of lambs born to each of the ewes. There was more time to teach him before lambing and shearing seasons began; and though he wasn’t fond of the record keeping, my Vater believed it was the duty of a good shepherd to maintain records. If Anton later went to work shepherding in another village, the knowledge would prove useful. My Vater said many farmers maintained only the production records for their sheep, but he thought that idea foolish.
Anton grunted. “My time would be of better use developing an invention than writing numbers in those ledger books.”
His comment troubled me. “If that is what you think, then I suppose you should tell it to the elders instead of me. I cannot change what work you will do.” Just when I thought he had begun to like working with the sheep, he made an occasional comment that caused me to believe otherwise.
“Do not take offense so easily. Even your Vater has said that the record keeping is tiresome. If I make any remark about disliking something in the barn, you act as though I have insulted you.” He pulled open the barn door and stepped to the side.
The musty smell of hay wafted toward me as I walked inside. “You’re right, Anton. I am sorry. Even I don’t always consider the record keeping a pleasant task.”
After he opened the side doors, the sheep proceeded to amble outside while Anton set to work mucking the barns. The ground was dry enough that he could take them out to the pasture once he’d finished his work inside.
My eyes grew tired as I went through the figures and recalculated the amounts of grain we had used and what remained. Unlike most shepherds, we didn’t have to worry about the grain. Our farms produced enough to supplement the sheep, as well as all of our other livestock. Still, my Vater wanted accurate records.
“I’m through in the barn. I’m going to take the sheep to those hills that overlook the pond.” Anton drew near and looked over my shoulder. “Have you found any mistakes?”
When I turned my head to answer him, our lips were only inches apart. A shiver coursed through me. I knew I should back away, but the look in his eyes locked me in place. My throat constricted and my mouth turned as dry as wool batting. He closed the short distance between us and gently kissed my lips. My insides quivered at the sensation, and when I opened my eyes, he took a backward step.
“I am sorry, Karlina. Please don’t be angry with me, but I have longed to do that for far too long.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “You have?”
He tipped his head to one side. “You mean you cannot see that I care for you?”
I inhaled a deep breath. Dovie had been right. “I knew you cared for me as a friend, but I didn’t know you cared for me as . . . as . . .” I didn’t even know how to finish the sentence.
He grinned. “As more than a friend?”
I bobbed my head.
“Then let me assure you that I care for you much more than any friend. You have become an important part of my life, Karlina. We will talk more later. If I don’t take the sheep out to pasture now, your Vater will wonder what has become of them.”
Long after he had departed, the touch of Anton’s kiss lingered on my lips.
Each time I looked his way, Anton grinned at me, and I wondered if my mother or father would soon become suspicious. On the way to prayer meeting, I whispered to him that he should stop.
“I will try,” he whispered. “But I cannot promise.”
He didn’t do well keeping his word. I caught him looking at me and smiling several times when he should have had his head bowed. Bef
ore we departed the meeting, I chastised him about his behavior.
“How do you know I didn’t have my head bowed? You wouldn’t have seen me if you’d been praying.”
I nodded. “You are right.” I glanced to see if anyone was nearby. “On the way home, I need to speak privately to my Mutter. Would you walk with Vater and draw him into a discussion about the sheep?”
He grinned. “I would rather walk with you, but I’ll do as you ask.”
“Danke, Anton.”
He winked and my heart fluttered.
My Mutter approached with my cloak draped over her arm. “Come along, Karlina.”
As we stepped outside, I heard Anton ask my Vater when he thought the first lambs would be born.
I looped my hand into the crook of my Mutter’s arm. “I am concerned about Dovie. She has told me some things that grieve her—matters regarding her Mutter. Yet she doesn’t believe she will ever discover the truth.”
My Mutter’s jaw went slack. “What are these things that grieve her?”
Holding tight to her arm, I leaned a bit closer. By the time we arrived home, I had repeated all of what Dovie had told me.
Once we entered the kitchen, my Mutter turned to my Vater. “You and Anton go upstairs. Karlina and I will make coffee and bring it to you.”
“And maybe some of the cake?” My Vater grinned and pointed to the leftover Kuchen on the worktable.
My Mutter waved him toward the other room. “Ja, and some cake, too.”
The moment the men left the room, my Mutter motioned me to a stool near the worktable. She questioned me at length, nodding and frowning as I answered her questions.
“She told me these things before, and I thought I had convinced her she was mistaken. It is not gut that she believes her Mutter was unhappy. I will pray about this and see what the Lord reveals to me.”
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