A Hidden Truth

by Judith Miller

  “What?” She bore that same distracted look again. “Oh yes. I’m glad it snowed.”

  Berndt appeared confused by her answer, and so was I. Still, he smiled at her and motioned to his sled. “Ready to go down the hill?”

  She shook her head. “I think I’ll warm myself by the fire. The rest of you can go ahead.”

  “Why don’t you and Anton try your sleds?” I suggested. “By the time you come back up the hill, we’ll be ready to give it a try.”

  Berndt’s disappointment was evident to me, although Dovie didn’t appear to notice. Or if she did, she chose to ignore his feelings. Side by side, we walked toward the fire while the men got onto the sleds. Berndt had surrounded the glowing wood with thick logs, and I wondered if he’d brought them from home. If so, his father wouldn’t be pleased to discover their woodpile had diminished in size.

  Dovie sat down on one of the logs, and I lowered myself to the space beside her. I waited for a moment while she stared into the fire. Finally I could stand the silence no longer. “Either you tell me what is wrong or we might as well return home. This isn’t any fun at all!”

  “I’m sorry, Karlina.”

  “I don’t want an apology; I want to know what is wrong!” Perhaps my irritation would shake her loose.

  She clutched her hands together and turned her head toward me. “Promise you won’t say anything to your mother.”

  “I promise. Now, what is it?” I clenched my jaw and waited.

  “Do you know anyone in East named Erich?”

  “Oh, ja, there are three—maybe four, I think.” I thought for a moment. “No. Just three. Erich Heinimann is now living in West.”

  She edged closer. “How old is he?”

  “I do not know. I think maybe he is a little older than my Vater. Why?”

  Dovie didn’t bother to answer before continuing with another question. “What about the other Erichs? How old are they? Do they still live in East?”

  She leaned toward me as though my answer would make some great difference in her life, yet I couldn’t imagine why she’d suddenly developed this powerful interest in men named Erich.

  I inhaled a deep, cold breath of air. “Well, there’s Erich Wiesler. He is six or seven years old.” I scrunched my brow and attempted to remember. “Maybe he is eight.”

  She waved at me as if swatting a pesky fly. “He doesn’t matter. Who else?”

  I wanted to tell her Erich Wiesler mattered a great deal to his family and friends, but Dovie’s impatience grew more intense. “There are two others. One is a little younger than me. Berndt knows him.”

  When I mentioned asking him, she shook her head. “No. He doesn’t matter, either. What about the final one?”

  “There is Berndt’s father. His name is Erich. He is older than my Mutter, but not by too many years, I don’t think. Berndt could tell us how old he is.” I looked toward the hill and cupped my hands to my mouth, but before I could call out to Berndt, Dovie grabbed my arm.

  “No! Don’t ask him. It does not matter.” She jumped to her feet. “Don’t tell anyone I asked you about this. You promised.” Her jaw settled in a tight line, and her lips opened only a slit as she hurled the command. I didn’t miss the panic in her voice or the fear that shone in her eyes.

  I took her arm. “Please, Dovie. Sit down.” I tugged a little more, and she lowered her weight onto the log. “I do not know what all of this is about. I would like you to tell me, but I cannot force you.” She opened her mouth to interrupt, but I held up my hand. “I promised I would not say anything, and I will not.” Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I said, “I hope you know that you can trust me with your secrets.”

  I felt her shoulders relax beneath my hand. Perhaps I had helped, but I couldn’t be certain. When Anton and Berndt returned to the top of the hill, they waved for us to join them. I was surprised when Dovie jumped to her feet and hurried to Berndt’s side.

  She sat on one sled, and I settled on the other. I glanced over at her as Anton and Berndt prepared to shove off and jump behind us. She smiled, but I could see it was a forced gesture. For the rest of the afternoon, we went up and down the hill, three of us taking great pleasure in the pastime while Dovie only pretended to have fun.

  Although I didn’t think Berndt or Anton had noticed the difference in Dovie’s behavior, Berndt appeared at the barn the following day. Anton and I were working on a new apparatus he thought would be helpful when the lambs were born in a few months. Berndt strode across the barn and stooped down beside us. He stared at the contraption and scratched his head.

  “Exactly what is that?”

  Anton looked up from his work. “This is going to help us to feed the lambs if the ewes have multiple births or do not have enough milk.” Anton lifted the tub in which he’d cut holes and was attaching hoses. “At least that is my plan. Karlina hopes there will be no need to use it, and so do I. She says it is best if the mothers can feed their babies without the need of our help.”

  Berndt studied the apparatus before asking several questions. “You’re quite gut at thinking up new ideas.” Berndt tapped his finger to his head. “Very smart.”

  Anton glanced back down at the tub. “Danke, Berndt. It is nice of you to say so. Are you not working this afternoon?”

  “Ja. I must go and cut wood in a little while. The barn is on my way, and I wanted to talk to Karlina for a minute.” Berndt looked at Anton. “About Dovie. I want to talk to her about Dovie.”

  Anton chuckled. “Ja, well I think you need to ask Karlina. For sure, I do not answer for her.”

  He nodded. “But if Karlina says she will speak to me, you do not mind? I don’t want there to be any more problems between us.”

  “There will be no more problems between us, Berndt.” Anton reached for a piece of hose, inserted it into the bucket, and then looked at me. “I would like to keep working on my feeding machine, so maybe the two of you could go to another part of the barn to have your talk, ja?”

  “I think we could do that.” I smiled at Anton before I stood and walked alongside Berndt to a nearby stall. A breeze cut through the open door of the barn, and the familiar smell of hay and damp wool filled my nostrils as I turned toward Berndt. “You want to talk about Dovie. What is it you want to know?”

  He pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “She acted very odd yesterday. Several times I asked her what was wrong, but she continued to tell me that nothing was the matter and she was having a good time. But I could see that she wasn’t. And her mind was somewhere else.” He rolled his cap and shoved it into his pocket. “Did she say anything to you? Have I done something to make her angry? All night I tried to think of anything I’d done or said that might be improper, but I could think of nothing.”

  What could I say to him? I had no answers. “She didn’t act like herself yesterday, but I do not think it had anything to do with you. Although she didn’t mention anything, I wonder if she was feeling unwell yesterday. You should not worry yourself, Berndt.”

  “That is what I tell myself, but it is hard when you care for someone like I care for Dovie.”

  My throat caught at his declaration. “Have you told her that you care for her?”

  Berndt pulled his hat from his pocket and wrung it between his hands. “A little. I think she knows, but I must be careful. To fall in love with a girl from the outside presents more problems than even I know how to handle.” He leaned against the wooden slats of the stall. “Do you think Dovie intends to remain in the colonies?”

  “She has never, not once, mentioned staying here for gut. I know that she is not eager to leave just yet, but her father is in Texas, and each day I think a letter will arrive telling her she should come and join him.” I placed my palm on my chest. “I do not want you to end up being hurt when she goes to Texas.”

  He bobbed his head. “Ja, I know. My Vater has told me the same thing. He does not want me to spend my free time with her.”

  “And my Mutter has
warned Dovie, as well. I think they fear you both will suffer if you should care for each other as more than friends.”

  He dug the toe of his boot into the straw. “It is too late for that, Karlina. How does a man stop himself from caring for someone? It is like trying to catch rain when there is a hole in the bucket. Impossible.”

  Pain shone in his eyes, and my heart ached for him. “Then you must look to the Lord for help and guidance, for I have no answers for you.”

  He unfurled his cap and pulled it onto his head. “Before we parted yesterday, Dovie asked me some questions about my family. Do you know why she would ask about them?”

  I folded my arms and met his steady gaze. “What kind of questions?”

  “She wanted to know if I had ever lived with my Oma and Opa.”

  “And what did you tell her?”

  “I told her ja, that we all lived in the same house until they died. Right after I told her is when she said she wanted to go home. When we got back to the house and I asked her if we could go skating on Saturday afternoon, she said she would be busy.”

  My thoughts swirled like a blizzard in winter. I didn’t know what to make of Dovie’s questions to Berndt. I didn’t know of any reason she couldn’t go skating on Saturday. Worst of all, I didn’t know how to help him.

  “Will you talk to her, see if you can find out something for me? Tell her that I want to see her and I care for her?”

  I swallowed hard. “I don’t know if that’s wise. Your Vater and my Mutter have both—”

  “Please. Just speak to her, and if she says she doesn’t want to spend time with me, I will not bother her again.”

  Though I wasn’t certain I was making the right decision, I agreed.

  Berndt started for the door, stopped, and turned. “There was one more thing Dovie asked me.”

  I took a step forward. “What was that?”

  “She wanted to know where Sister Elsa lives.”

  CHAPTER 18

  March 1893

  Dovie

  More than a month had passed since I’d read the letters in Cousin Louise’s room, but my questions still remained unanswered. Berndt had told me where Sister Elsa lived, but finding the time and opportunity to speak to her alone had proved a challenge.

  A close watch on Sister Fuch’s Küche finally reaped the benefit I had hoped for. Each afternoon I had waited out of sight as some of the sisters filed out of the Küche to go home for an hour or two after the noonday meal. Unfortunately, Sister Elsa hadn’t been among those who departed to complete personal chores during the afternoon. Not until today.

  I smiled at the sight of her, pleased I hadn’t given up my vigil. Once she bid the other sisters good-bye and turned the corner, I hurried along the wooden sidewalk. Taking long strides, I soon closed the gap. “Guten Tag, Sister Elsa.” She stopped short and wheeled around on her heel. “I hope I didn’t startle you.”

  She clasped her lightweight cloak against the late March breeze. “Only a little.” She smiled and pointed toward the cloudless blue sky. “Is gut weather we have now. Springtime is my favorite, and it is approaching.”

  The warmer weather had been welcomed by most everyone. Everyone except Jakub and his sister, Sophia. Over and over Jakub had lamented the end of ice skating season. I promised we could continue to meet at the pond, but I knew he’d be like the other men—busy preparing and planting the fields. Springtime afternoons would not grant the freedom winter had permitted, and I would see less of him.

  “I like this time of year, too.”

  Sister Elsa darted a glance to the empty space behind me. “You are alone?” Her voice bore a cautious tone.

  “Yes. But just like you, this is my free time away from the Küche.” Hoping to set her at ease, I smiled and drew closer. “I wanted to ask you about something you said when I came to Sister Fuch’s house when we were quilting.”

  Her features settled in a deep frown. I didn’t know if she was trying to recall the event or if my question annoyed her. When she didn’t reply, I decided to continue. “You said my mother, Sister Barbara, was very unhappy when she left here. I think you said she was in love with someone named Erich? Is that right?”

  “If you have questions about Sister Barbara, you should talk to Sister Louise. She is the best one to tell you anything you want to know.” She stopped in front of a sandstone house—the one I had learned was her residence. Turning toward me, she crossed her index and middle fingers. “Sister Louise and Sister Barbara were as close as blood sisters.” She bobbed her head. “Ja, Sister Louise can answer your questions better than I.”

  I thanked her and turned toward home. There was no need to push for anything more. Sister Elsa’s lips were sealed, and I had a strong suspicion Cousin Louise was the one who had sealed them.

  A robin sang a warbling announcement of spring’s anticipated arrival. All around me I saw evidence of new life. Barren trees had formed new buds, and before long, fruit trees would blossom and early blooming flowers would add a splash of color near the weathered wooden sidewalks. The hills and valleys had already sprouted a new, lush green carpet, where the sheep and cattle would graze. At any other time, the splendor of God’s creation would have caused my heart to sing. But after Sister Elsa’s unhelpful response, I found it impossible to take pleasure in my surroundings.

  Whether I wanted to put the past behind me or not, Cousin Louise had determined to set my sights upon the future. Surely the conclusion I had drawn from the letter was correct. Otherwise Cousin Louise would not be working so hard to keep the truth from me. I returned to the Küche, my thoughts a mixture of determination and surrender. I didn’t want to concede defeat, yet it appeared that any further efforts would fail. With the ability of a talented chess player, Cousin Louise had executed plans to block my every move.

  “There you are! And just in time to help. I didn’t know where you went.” Cousin Louise motioned for me to hang my jacket and come to the worktable. “Karlina said she thought you had gone down to the pond, but Sister Bertha said you’d gone in the other direction.”

  Her unasked question hung between us like a morning fog. “It is a beautiful day so I went for a walk to see if any of the flowers had begun to bloom in the village.” Though my answer was not entirely true, I had been looking at the blooming foliage as I walked to Sister Fuch’s Küche and on my way home, as well.

  “I am glad you have returned. You remember I told you about dying Easter eggs for the children?”

  I nodded. Last week Cousin Louise had explained that each Küchebaas dyed Easter eggs and baked Easter cookies for the children who ate in her Küche. These were special tasks that appeared to please Cousin Louise. She had explained that we would dye the eggs between church services on Good Friday because there was less meal preparation on that day.

  “Tomorrow we will dye the eggs, but today we will boil them.” She glanced toward the window. “I hope the weather stays warm for Easter. It is so early this year that it would not surprise me to wake up to snow.” She shook her head as if the snow had already begun to fall.

  I arched my brows. With such warm weather today and Easter arriving on Sunday, I doubted we would need to worry about snow, but I kept my opinion to myself. “Would you like me to go to the cellar and bring up the crocks?”

  “Ja. And I will fill the pots so we can boil the eggs.” We had been saving the yellow and red onion skins since the first of the year. Cousin Louise said they provided good dye for the hard-boiled eggs, but we would also use some of the dye from the woolen mill for brighter colors. I had been looking forward to the event since I’d first learned of the unusual methods for preparing the Easter eggs. But egg dying wouldn’t begin until tomorrow.

  She pointed to the side table. “I have mixed up one batch of cookie dough. We can bake cookies this afternoon and dye eggs tomorrow when the other sisters are here to help.”

  “I thought Karlina wanted to help with the cookies. Should I go down to the barn and tell her
we’re going to bake?”

  “Nein. One of the ewes dropped triplets, and Karlina is needed at the barn.”

  “Dropped?” I pictured babies falling from their mother’s arms.

  Cousin Louise looked at me as though I’d grown two heads. “Ja, dropped. Gave birth to triplets.”

  I slapped my palm on my forehead. How silly of me. Of course! I hiked a shoulder. “I grew up in the city, Cousin Louise. I am not accustomed to farm language.”

  “Well, it is time you learned, since the ewes will be dropping their lambs from now until the end of April. When we finish, you should go to the barn and see them.” She lifted a kettle of water onto the stove. “Lambing and shearing seasons are the times when visitors come to East. Everyone wants to come and see the lambs or watch the shearers’ skills. And who can blame them? Those are gut times of the year. But right now we need to prepare the eggs.” She motioned to the door. “Hurry to the cellar and we’ll get started.”

  Boiling the eggs had been a fairly quick and simple process. Once we finished, Cousin Louise removed cookie cutters from one of the cabinets and spread them across the worktable. I traced my fingers over the familiar tin shapes. Large and small rabbits, a squirrel, chicken, lamb, a large sheep, cow, and a pig. “These are like the cookie cutters my Mother and I used to make our sugar cookies. I still have them. They’re packed in one of the trunks my father sent to Texas.”

  Cousin Louise broke off a fat chunk of dough, sifted a light dusting of flour on the worktable, and flattened the dough into a circle. “Ja, I am sure Barbara kept the cookie cutters that belonged to your Oma. She loved baking cookies.” Using her rolling pin, Cousin Louise manipulated the dough until it met her requirements for the perfect thickness. She rested a hand on her hip and surveyed the flattened mixture. “That looks gut. You can begin to cut the shapes and place them on the cookie sheets.”

  Together, Cousin Louise and I rolled, cut, and baked the cookies, filling the air with a sweet vanilla scent. By the time the men arrived for their midafternoon respite, they were sniffing the air like children. “You should not be thinking it is cookies you will be eating,” Cousin Louise announced when they looked toward the kitchen with anticipation. “The Easter cookies are for the children, and there are no extras.” A chorus of groans could be heard from one end of the dining hall to the other. Cousin Louise laughed at their antics before she pointed to the tables. “You will have to settle for bread and jam with your coffee. We have much to accomplish before Easter.”