A Shining Light

by Judith Miller

  Werner’s lips drooped as I related my experience, but I didn’t want to give him a false impression of what he would discover in the outside world. “I would not want to return there unless I could afford to live in a much safer part of the city.”

  “And then you would go back?” Werner’s lips lifted a bit.

  “I don’t know, Werner. I’m not keen on large cities. But if it is your plan to leave, you best have enough money saved to support yourself for at least several months. There’s no telling how long it will take you to find work. And if you haven’t some trade, any work you find will pay a meager wage.”

  The boy’s shoulders sagged, and I knew he’d been discouraged by my comments. But I couldn’t mislead him. Our life had been hard in Baltimore, and I wouldn’t let him believe he could walk away from this place and easily support himself in the outside world.

  I glanced at Brother Dirk as I started toward the door. His eyes shone with a look of appreciation, but I wasn’t sure why. Was it because I’d taken time to speak with Werner, or was it because I’d reinforced the things he’d likely already told the boy? I couldn’t be certain, but I liked this man who appeared to have a kind and nurturing heart.

  Chapter 6

  Lukas arrived at the kitchen house with Werner and Brother Dirk, but instead of taking a seat at the table where the outsiders ate their meals, he scooted in between the two men. When I crooked my finger and signaled for him to come and sit at the outsiders’ table, he turned away and acted as though he hadn’t seen me. For a moment I considered going across to the men’s side of the dining hall and escorting him back to the proper bench, but such an act would draw too much attention.

  I lifted my gaze and was met by Brother Dirk’s kind blue eyes. He placed one hand on Lukas’s shoulder and gave a slight nod that seemed to indicate Lukas could remain with him. Though I wasn’t happy with the arrangement, I nodded and returned to the kitchen.

  “Lukas has returned?” Sister Erma continued to heap boiled potatoes into large bowls as she asked about the boy.

  “Yes, but he’s sitting on the men’s side between Brother Dirk and his apprentice instead of sitting at the outsiders’ table.”

  “Ja, well, the two of you are not exactly outsiders. You are both living in the Küchehaas. Brother Dirk is a gut man. If Lukas needs correction, Brother Dirk will teach him the proper way of doing things.”

  Her comment was meant to mollify my worries, but it had little effect. Correcting and teaching Lukas was my responsibility, not a task to be assigned to some stranger. I swallowed my rebuttal and followed the other women into the dining hall, where we bowed our heads while one of the elders offered a prayer of thanks for the meal. As soon as he uttered amen, the helpers and I scurried back into the kitchen. We picked up the overflowing bowls of potatoes and green beans and the platters of roast pork to be placed on each of the tables.

  The men’s door leading into the dining hall opened, and I looked up to see Brother Bosch enter the room and take his regular place at one of the tables. He cast a quick glance across the room, and I wondered if he was looking for his wife. I found this custom of men and women eating at separate tables odd, but I’d soon learned that not only did men and women enter separate doors and eat their meals at separate tables, they did the same when they attended church meetings. One door for the men, another for the women. Hard wooden pews on one side of the meetinghouse were designated for men and those on the other side for women.

  When I questioned Sister Erma about the practice, she explained the separation was something that had begun long ago. “We believe that a man or woman can devote more of themselves to God if they do not have a spouse or children who need their time and will frequently fill their thoughts.”

  I had been amazed by her reply, for many of the colonists were married.

  Noting my surprise, Sister Erma continued. “The elders do not prohibit marriage, but there is a year of separation once a couple has permission to wed—to make certain they are strong in their love and commitment.”

  If Fred and I had tested our commitment in such a manner, I doubt he would have taken his vows. Instead, he would have headed off for Baltimore without me. The thought gave me pause. The man I thought I was marrying seemed to vanish when he started drinking in Baltimore only a few months into our marriage. If we hadn’t married, I wouldn’t have suffered his abuse, but I wouldn’t have Lukas, either. And I would have suffered most anything for my child. Still, to wait and be sure there was a strong commitment before taking marriage vows held a great deal of merit.

  When I returned to the kitchen, I drew near to Sister Erma. “I saw Brother Bosch enter the dining hall. It is a surprise he is here for the evening meal, isn’t it? What do you think his early return means?”

  Sister Erma scraped the last of the potatoes into a bowl and then swiped her hands down the front of her apron. “I cannot say for sure. It could mean the elders had few matters to discuss. Or it could mean they came to a quick resolution to all of the problems facing them.” She shrugged her shoulders and handed me the bowl. “Take this to the men’s table, and then we will eat our dinner.”

  While placing the bowl on the table, I kept my gaze fastened upon Brother Bosch. I had hoped he would give me some sign of how things had gone, but he didn’t look in my direction. I would have to wait until later to hear how the elders had responded to my questions.

  As soon as the meal was over, we all stood and the same elder offered an after-meal prayer before the men and women began to depart. Although I still needed to clear the tables, I rushed out the women’s door and waited until Brother Bosch descended the steps leading from the men’s door. Several men surrounded him, so I waited at a distance until they finished talking to the elder and left.

  I called to him as he turned to walk away. He glanced over his shoulder and waited until I drew near. “I was hoping to speak with you about the meeting with the Grossebruderrat today. Were you able to present my concerns to them?”

  “Ja, I did. The elders are sympathetic to your situation, Sister Andrea, but they cannot undo what has already occurred. Your Vater signed a contract and received full payment for his land, the house, and other buildings located on the property. We are in possession of both the contract and the receipt signed by your Vater that shows he received payment. The elders are willing for you to review the documents, if you wish.” He removed a pipe from his jacket pocket and filled it with tobacco. “As for the money paid to your Vater, they have no way of knowing what subsequent arrangements he made. They suggest you inquire at his bank or with any other relatives. He may have confided in one of them. Unfortunately for you, there was no additional money due to your father. He was paid in full.”

  My spirits plummeted. I had hoped to hear the full sum had not yet been paid. Though I knew it was unlikely, I had hoped for some pittance to help Lukas and me begin our life anew. “There are no other relatives, Brother Bosch, and my father didn’t trust banks.”

  “Still, you should make certain. Having received such a large sum of money at one time, he may have changed his mind. I’ll see about having one of the men take you to Marengo in the next few weeks so you can check.”

  “The next few weeks? I hadn’t planned to remain in the colonies that long.”

  He arched his brows. “You have someplace else you can go?”

  His question dropped around my neck like a heavy weight. “No. I have no place, Brother Bosch.”

  His lips tightened around the stem of his pipe, then curved in a smile. “The elders said you are welcome to remain in West until you decide upon your future. There is no time limit to their invitation. We are in agreement that your situation is different from that of most outsiders who come to the village seeking seasonal work.” His steady gaze radiated warmth. “While you remain with us, you will be treated as one of us.”

  While I understood this was a meaningful gift from the elders, I wondered what would be expected in return. “Exactly
what does that mean, Brother Bosch?”

  He removed the pipe from his lips. “It means you may freely interact with members of the society and that you and your son will have the same privileges as our members. If you decide you would like to attend church services, you will be permitted; if you wish to attend quilt gatherings with the other sisters, you may do so.” He pointed the stem of his pipe at my clothing. “You already dress much like the rest of us. After a time, you may decide you wish to permanently make a home with us.”

  “That is most kind.” I added my thanks for his time and hurried off before he could see the tears beginning to form in my eyes. Deep inside I had hoped that even if the elders had paid my father all that was due, they would see fit to give me some additional money so that I could be on my way—an act of Christian charity. But the charity they offered was in a different and unexpected form.

  I would never earn a wage while living in the colonies. Granted, there would be a stipend at the general store for my necessities, but going to another town without money for room and board would be out of the question. Besides, who would hire me? I might find work waiting tables or cleaning rooms in a hotel, but how much money would that pay? Certainly not enough to support my son and me. Like Werner, I had no skills that would earn me a livable wage.

  I returned inside and trudged toward the kitchen with a sagging spirit and an ungrateful heart. Somehow, I needed to develop a plan for my future, but how could I do anything without money?

  If only my father had kept me informed about the sale of the farm and what he’d done with the funds he received. But fathers didn’t share such details with their daughters. That sort of thing was meant to be discussed with sons—and there was no son with whom my father could share information.

  Sister Erma looked up when I entered the kitchen. “From your downcast face, I am guessing Brother Bosch did not have gut news for you.”

  I hiked one shoulder. “He told me what I’d already heard. The contract was signed, the money was paid, no one knows what my father did with the money, and there is nothing that can be done to help me.”

  Sister Erma gasped. “You mean they are going to make you and Lukas leave?”

  “Nein. Their offer was quite generous. We have permission to remain as long as I want to stay, and the elders even agreed that Lukas and I should not be treated as outsiders. Still, I don’t know how I will ever be able to leave if I can’t earn any money.” I dropped onto a chair near the worktable.

  “Who can say what the Lord has planned for you, Sister Andrea. You should pray and seek His guidance. In gut time, He will reveal what you need to know. For now, be thankful for warm food and a safe place for you and your son.”

  “I’m sorry. I know I sound ungrateful for all you and the others have done for us. I truly appreciate your kindness, but—”

  “No apologies are necessary. I am pleased to have you and Lukas in my home, but I hope you will take my advice and ask God to guide your future.”

  Unlike Sister Erma, I didn’t think God cared about my future. After all, I’d done my share of praying while we lived in Baltimore, and God hadn’t protected or guided me back then. Instead, I’d been left to fend for myself. God had more important things to occupy His time, and I no longer put much stock in prayer. It didn’t seem to change anything—at least not for me.

  The following week, Brother Bosch stopped at the Küche while we were cleaning up after breakfast. “I have arranged for Brother Dirk to take you to Marengo so that you may inquire about your Vater’s money at the bank. I was going to take you, but my rheumatism is causing my body to ache. You should be ready to go with him in a few minutes. Take the boy with you. Is not gut for only the two of you to go alone in the wagon.” He looked at Sister Erma. “I hope this does not cause you any problems in the kitchen, Sister Erma.”

  The older woman continued hanging the clean pots on the hooks above the worktable. “She is a gut worker, for sure, but we will make do until Sister Andrea returns.”

  Sister Greta, one of the kitchen helpers who appeared to be a year or two younger than I, frowned. “With Sister Ursula already released from her duties because of her baby, it will mean even more work for the rest of us.”

  “Is not for you to decide, Sister Greta. I did not ask for your opinion.” Sister Erma motioned for Sister Greta to continue washing dishes, and though she did as she was told, her sullen look remained.

  I wasn’t sure why she was angry. I’d had nothing to do with Brother Bosch’s decision. The elder’s announcement had come as a complete surprise to me. Since arriving, I hadn’t given much thought to his suggestion that I make inquiries at the surrounding banks. Probably because I was sure my father hadn’t placed the money in a bank. However, if Brother Bosch wanted to provide me with a wagon and driver, I wouldn’t argue. It would be good to spend a few hours away from the kitchen.

  Brother Bosch held one hand against his aching back as he walked to the door. “If you do not locate your Vater’s money, Sister Andrea, you should for sure think about putting your son into the Lehrschule. He needs to be learning with the other children. Brother Dirk says the boy is bright and already understands much of what is said to him in German.”

  I appreciated the older man’s concern regarding Lukas’s education, but I hadn’t yet committed to remaining in the colonies. I told myself it was better if Lukas didn’t become integrated into the community until I was certain about our future. And I’d been doing my best to help keep him current in his studies. Brother Bosch was correct, but I simply wasn’t prepared to make my decision—not yet.

  Sister Erma followed me to the dining room, where Lukas was sitting at one of the tables practicing his handwriting. I stopped and touched her arm. “Why is Sister Greta angry? Have I offended her in some way?”

  “Nein. You have done nothing.” Sister Erma tapped her finger alongside her eye and lowered her voice. “Sister Greta has an eye for Brother Dirk. I think she is jealous that you will have his attention this afternoon. You should not let her comments bother you.”

  “Maybe I should tell her that I am not looking for a husband. Do you think that would help?”

  Sister Erma chuckled. “Nein. I think she would deny her interest in him. I have heard her whispering with the other women. She thinks he would make her a gut husband, but I do not think Brother Dirk has an eye for her.”

  I didn’t want Sister Greta to be angry with me, but I had no choice in this matter. Brother Bosch had instructed me to be ready when Brother Dirk arrived. I motioned to my son. “Come along, Lukas. We are going to go to Marengo with Brother Dirk.”

  The boy hopped up from the table and scurried across the room. “The town where we got off the train?”

  I ruffled his hair and smiled down at him. “Yes. You have a good memory. You were so tired when we arrived, I didn’t think you would remember the name of the town.”

  He beamed and straightened his shoulders. “Brother Dirk says I have a good memory, too. I have learned the names of all the machines and most of the tools in his shop. When he asks for something, I know what he wants and can fetch it for him so he can keep working. He says I’ve been a big help to him.”

  Though I doubted Lukas could provide a great deal of help in the tinsmith shop, it was good to know that Brother Dirk provided encouragement to him. After having received nothing but disparaging remarks from his father, Lukas needed affirmation, especially from a man.

  “I’m very proud to hear you’ve been helpful.”

  “Danke.”

  Spoken in German, his simple thank-you was a reminder that whether I liked it or not, my son was becoming accustomed to life in the colonies. No matter that I hadn’t yet placed him in school with the other children, he was like a sponge soaking up the customs and language in which I’d immersed him.

  “You’re welcome,” I replied. “We don’t have to say everything in German, Lukas. We’re still allowed to speak English.”

  “But Broth
er Dirk says I’ll learn faster if I speak in German all the time.”

  Before I could reply, the kitchen door opened and Brother Dirk stepped inside. “Guten Morgen, Brother Dirk,” Lukas called as he rushed toward the tinsmith. I was surprised when the boy wrapped his arms around Brother Dirk’s waist and asked the tinsmith a question using perfect German.

  The tinsmith chuckled. “Danke. Ich bin . . .” He glanced at me and switched to English. “I am happy to be here, Lukas.”

  Sister Greta stood at the other side of the kitchen, her gaze fastened upon the unfolding scene. Her frown had been replaced by a tight smile. “Guten Tag, Brother Dirk.” She stepped around the worktable and flashed him a winsome look. “We have a few utensils that could use repair. I would be glad to bring them to your shop later today.”

  “Ach! There is no need for you to make a trip to the shop. I can take them now. I’ll leave them with Werner on our way out of town.”

  Sister Greta’s drawn smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “I would be happy to—”

  Before she could complete her reply, Brother Dirk shook his head and stepped forward. “Which ones need my attention?”

  Left with no choice, Sister Greta gathered the utensils and handed them to him. He traced his hand over the handles and the bowls of the large spoons and ladle. “Ja, these are in need of repair. I’ll bring them back to the Küche in a few days.”

  With a look of defeat, Sister Greta retreated to the other side of the kitchen. I wanted to say something that would reassure her but decided to heed Sister Erma’s advice. Besides, with Brother Dirk present, anything I might say would cause her embarrassment.