A Shining Light

by Judith Miller

  Once we completed washing and drying the supper dishes, I walked to the back porch and called to Lukas. He was playing near the chicken coop and came running toward me, his hair flying in the breeze.

  “Is it time for prayer meeting?”

  “Not yet.” I stooped down in front of him and grasped his small hands. “We need to have a talk.”

  Once he learned we were going to visit his father, Lukas’s smile vanished. “But you promised I didn’t have to go today.”

  “I know. And I shouldn’t have made that promise. Your father is ill and we need to be kind to him, Lukas. It’s very important.”

  His eyes widened. “Why?”

  “Because if we’re nice to him, he’ll be nice, and we’ll be able to stay in the village while he gets well.”

  His mouth gaped open. “If Papa isn’t nice to Dr. Karr will we have to leave?”

  I struggled to find the proper answer. “I’m not sure, Lukas, but we need to do what we can to make sure your father doesn’t become angry. One way we can do that is to visit him each day. I went to visit him earlier today, and he said he wanted to see you.”

  “You won’t leave me alone with him, will you?”

  “No, I promise. And we’ll stay only until time for prayer meeting.”

  His lower lip quivered, but he nodded his agreement.

  “Run upstairs and get several sheets of writing paper and a few envelopes and bring them down to me.” As he raced toward the back door, I called after him, “They’re in the top drawer of the chest.”

  I had only a small bottle of ink and one pen, so I hoped Dr. Karr would let Fred use one of his. Otherwise, I’d purchase a pencil at the general store. I didn’t have the extra funds for a bottle of ink and another pen. Besides, I didn’t know how many letters Fred would write. The fact that he planned to write any letters surprised me. I’d never known him to take up a pen—at least not during our marriage. Any letter writing had been my responsibility. Though I’d given it no thought when he’d made the request for writing supplies, I now wondered who had become so important to Fred.

  “I found them, Mama.” Lukas waved the paper and envelopes overhead, his face creased into a proud grin.

  We hadn’t gone far when I stopped short. “I need a piece of wood or something sturdy for your father to hold on his lap and use as a writing desk. He’s not strong enough to get out of bed yet.”

  “Brother Dirk will have something. His shop is on the way.” Lukas beamed at me, proud he’d thought of a solution to my problem. I agreed we would stop, though I wasn’t fond of asking Dirk to fulfill one of Fred’s requests. It didn’t seem appropriate.

  An overhead bell jangled as Lukas bounded into the tinsmith’s shop. Moments later, Dirk appeared. A broad smile caused his eyes to crinkle boyishly, and I longed for what might have been.

  He gestured toward the array of ladles, buckets, and pans that filled his worktables. “You are in need of a new spoon or bucket, Sister Andrea?”

  I returned his smile. “No. We have a rather unusual request.” I explained Fred’s need for a writing desk he could hold on his lap while sitting up in bed. “I’m sorry to bother you, but Lukas thought you might be able to help.” I glanced at my son, who was staring up at Dirk with adoring eyes.

  “Ja, well, let me think for a moment.” He rubbed his jaw and glanced toward the back room. “I know!” He stooped down in front of Lukas and described where he could find a particular piece of wood. “It is the shelf from the bookcase we removed last week. It will be nice and smooth. You remember?”

  Lukas nodded. “I’ll go get it.” He rushed through the shop and into a back room.

  As soon as Lukas disappeared, Dirk turned to me. “Tell me what has happened with Fred since last night.”

  I conveyed the decision the elders had made during their meeting, as well as my talk with Fred. “For now, we will remain in the village. Much depends upon Fred’s health and his attitude.”

  By the time I’d related the day’s events, Dirk’s smile had vanished. “I cannot say I am pleased by what has happened, Andrea. On the other hand, I know that God has a plan and you are married to Fred. I wish to remain your friend, but we can no longer see each other as we have in the past. You understand?”

  My heart felt as though it had stopped beating. Hearing him speak the words that ended what had only just begun for us felt like the declaration of a death sentence. I forced back the flood of tears that threatened. I couldn’t give my emotions free rein—not now. My grieving would need to be done in private.

  I swallowed hard and forced the lump from my throat. “Of course, but I hope that Lukas—”

  “Lukas is always welcome here. I love your son and hope he will continue to come to the shop after school.”

  Before we could say anything more, Lukas returned with the piece of shelving. “I found it! This will work, won’t it, Mama?”

  I traced my fingers through Lukas’s curls. “It will be perfect. Thank you.”

  We bid Dirk good-bye and continued toward the doctor’s office while I silently prayed Fred would be kind to his son.

  Much to my amazement, the visit went better than I could have anticipated. Fred thanked Lukas for seeking out the piece of wood to be used as his writing desk and complimented the boy when he exhibited his writing skills for his father. As the hour wore on, Lukas began to relax and Fred remained kind and encouraging. I wasn’t sure what to make of my husband. Perhaps God was already answering our prayers.

  Throughout the next two weeks, Fred continued to slowly woo Lukas. At first, the boy had been reluctant to even go near his father’s bed. But as Fred encouraged his son in a quiet voice that he’d never before exhibited with him, Lukas’s fears slowly dissipated. Granted, he remained close to my side during those initial visits, but soon he began to smile and answer his father’s questions.

  As the days passed, it was stories of Fred’s life aboard ship that enticed Lukas. Once Fred noted the boy’s interest, he’d seized the opportunity and each day he would regale Lukas with an exciting adventure or a funny story that intrigued him. Though I doubted that much of what Fred told the boy was the truth, I was pleased to see him make an effort.

  I prayed his injuries were teaching him the importance of faith and family.

  Chapter 15

  The changes in Fred’s demeanor continued to surprise me. Occasionally, I was reminded of the man I’d fallen in love with years ago. I expected his patience with Lukas to be short-lived, but as time marched on, he continued to win the boy’s trust. He would never be as kind or gentle as Dirk—it wasn’t fair to compare the two, yet I continued to do so. My attempts to push aside thoughts of a future with Dirk proved difficult. Without warning, my thoughts returned to him every night. Even though I prayed for God to snuff out my desire, the flame continued to burn in my heart.

  I no longer visited Dirk’s shop, and I tried not to look across at him in the dining hall and at prayer meeting. He no longer stopped at the Küche after prayer meeting, and although Lukas had protested at first, he’d finally accepted the decision. Maybe because he realized that his father’s return had changed things.

  Lukas now enjoyed the daily visits with his father. Both a checkerboard and Fred’s unexpected patience while teaching the boy had seemingly sealed their relationship. At first, Lukas had been reluctant to try to play, but with Fred’s encouragement, Lukas soon learned to enjoy the game as well as their time together. Now the two of them played checkers each evening before Lukas and I attended prayer meeting.

  A schedule for our visits had been set—at least in Fred’s mind. Each evening he anticipated a visit from Lukas and me, and each morning after breakfast, I was expected to be with him for at least an hour. Whenever my work didn’t permit a visit, signs of Fred’s former demeanor would resurface. Still, compared to the outbursts he’d exhibited during our final years in Baltimore, these occasional dour moods seemed negligible. And they were displayed only in my pres
ence—never when Lukas or others were around.

  This morning I arrived a half hour later than usual. When I stepped into his room, he looked up but didn’t speak. He was writing a letter, and as I drew a bit closer, he folded the sheet of paper and moved it out of sight.

  “I’m glad to see you’re making use of the writing supplies. I wondered if you’d used any of the paper.” I forced a smile. “I can bring more if you need it.”

  “I’ll tell ya when I need somethin’.”

  His hair flopped down into his eyes. He needed a haircut, but today wasn’t the day to suggest a trim.

  “You’re late. Figured you wasn’t comin’, like usual.”

  I winced at the biting comment but didn’t take his bait. Attempting to defend myself would only increase his ire. I’d learned that lesson long ago, so I ignored his remark. We both knew I was seldom late. “The weather has been quite nice the last few days, don’t you think?”

  “How d’you expect me to know about the weather when I’m stuck in this bed?”

  I considered mentioning the light summer breeze wafting through his open window but checked myself. He wasn’t interested in hearing a positive response—or any response for that matter, at least not right now. My stomach muscles tightened around the oatmeal I’d eaten for breakfast, and I braced myself for a difficult visit.

  “Your health has been improving each day. Perhaps it won’t be long before Dr. Karr will permit you to sit in a wheelchair. If so, I could take you outside for a bit of fresh air.” Had Fred been in a better mood, I would have suggested asking the doctor myself, but today I was certain he would rebuff my offer.

  He arched one brow. “I ain’t seen no wheelchairs around this place.”

  “I believe there’s one in the examining room. I saw it when I was here with Lukas a few months ago.”

  The fact that Fred didn’t inquire why Lukas had needed to visit the doctor didn’t surprise me. Fred worried about only one person—himself. That characteristic hadn’t changed at all.

  “Guess I can ask the doc about the wheelchair. He says the medicine has my malaria under control, but the infection in my side ain’t doing much better.” He pulled back the sheet and lifted the edge of his bandage. “He says he don’t want me moving too much—something about the infection spreading in my blood and traveling through my body. That don’t seem possible, but since there ain’t no other doctor close by, I guess I gotta believe him.”

  After the excellent care he’d received, Fred’s criticism of Dr. Karr disturbed me. “He’s a good doctor, Fred. I don’t think you could find anyone better to care for you.”

  Fred hiked a shoulder. “Maybe. At least he ain’t lookin’ to be paid.”

  Along with his lack of thankfulness, his callous, selfish nature had reemerged in full force this morning.

  I cleared my throat. “If you have any money, it would be gracious to offer payment, since the expense of your care is being borne by those who live in West Amana.”

  His nostrils flared. “You ain’t foolin’ me none, Andrea. You’re fishin’ to find out if I got any money hidden away. I already told you I’m broke, so you can quit your pokin’ around. Money! That’s all ya ever wanted from me.”

  I wanted to laugh aloud. He was the one who’d spent every cent on liquor and gambling. His ugly words had fouled the summer air that had smelled so sweet only minutes earlier. I pushed up from my chair. “I need to get back to the kitchen. Lukas and I will return before prayer meeting.”

  His jaw twitched. “You like the fact that you can up and run off whenever you want, don’t ya? Jest you remember that once I can get out of this bed, I’ll be the one tellin’ you what you can and can’t do.”

  His mood had gone from bad to worse, and memories of our life in Baltimore flooded back. I didn’t want to believe that the changes I’d observed over these few past weeks had been a charade, but I decided this morning’s behavior was a warning. I would need to be careful. I’d forgotten many of Fred’s cunning ways.

  I’d gone only a short distance when I looked up and saw Dr. Karr walking toward me carrying his medical bag. Using his free hand, he waved and motioned me forward. “Guten Morgen, Sister Andrea.” He smiled and nodded toward his office. “You have been to see our patient?”

  I returned his smile. “I have.” For a brief moment, I considered asking about the wheelchair but quickly changed my mind. Fred had said he would ask, and I didn’t want to be accused of interfering. Of course, if I didn’t ask, he’d likely say I didn’t care about his ability to go outdoors. I inhaled a deep breath and decided it would be best to wait and see whether Fred mentioned the wheelchair to Dr. Karr.

  “We are seeing gut changes in him. I am surprised how much his attitude has improved.” He grinned. “And most grateful, too. When he first arrived, I did not think I would be able to bear having him in my home.” He shook his head and gazed into the distance, but soon his bright smile returned. “Now I could not ask for a better patient. There is pain when I probe his wound and change his bandage, but even with this he does not complain.” The doctor’s eyes glistened and he patted his hand against his chest. “I believe God is answering our prayers and your husband is having a change of heart.”

  “So he has not raised his voice or spoken in anger to you?” I didn’t want to disagree with the doctor. I, too, had seen changes in Fred. But not as many as the doctor. And Fred’s actions this morning, when there had been no one else around to hear, continued to make me wonder if he’d truly undergone any change at all.

  “Nein. He continued to be somewhat gruff for the first few days, but since then, he has been calm, and it has been easy to manage his care. We must all continue to pray that these changes continue, ja?”

  I wasn’t certain there had been any genuine transformation, but time would tell. If Fred was treating the doctor with proper respect, I didn’t want to say or do anything that might create undue alarm. Our being welcome to remain in the village depended heavily upon Fred’s conduct, and I didn’t want to say anything that might compromise our situation, so I agreed we should continue to pray. In truth, I knew God was the only one who could change Fred.

  The doctor took his watch from his pocket and glanced at the time. “Your visit was shorter than usual today.”

  He hadn’t framed the remark as a question, yet it was clear he expected an explanation. “We are short of workers in the kitchen.” My answer wasn’t an outright lie. We were short one worker. But Sister Ursula’s absence wasn’t why I was returning to the kitchen. After all, she’d been at home with her baby since before I’d arrived in West.

  He nodded. “Then you must hurry on your way. You and Lukas will visit Fred tonight?”

  “Yes, we’ll be there at our usual time.” I skirted past him and continued toward the kitchen house before he could ask any more questions. I didn’t want to stretch the truth any further.

  The morning lunch had ended only minutes earlier, and some of the men still lingered outside the dining room doors, talking and smoking their pipes. Sister Erma glanced at the clock when I entered the kitchen. “You left late, yet you are back early. Something is wrong?”

  I shook my head. “There wasn’t much to visit about, and I think Fred needed to rest. Lukas and I will go back this evening before prayer meeting. I thought you might need my help.”

  “For sure, I can always use your help. The rounds of Handkäse need to be scrubbed. Before the girls left for school this morning, I had them carry the crocks upstairs.”

  Without thinking, I wrinkled my nose. When I’d helped scrub the rounds of pungent cheese last week, I’d decided it was one job I hoped to never repeat. Still, scrubbing the rounds of hand cheese was preferable to arguing with Fred.

  She gestured toward the backyard. “The boards you used for a table last week are leaning against the shed. Sister Greta will help you.”

  Greta frowned and sighed. She wasn’t pleased with the assignment, either. Although most every
one liked eating hand cheese, none of the sisters enjoyed working with the smelly rounds. Upon inhaling my first whiff, I’d let out a shriek, pinched my nose, and backed up. Greta had laughed until tears ran down her cheeks.

  I’d remained at a distance as she’d explained that the rounds were created by pressing milk curds through a sieve, adding salt, and kneading the mixture until Sister Erma declared that it had reached the proper consistency.

  The cheese was then shaped into rounds that were flattened and set to dry before being stored in crocks that were placed in the cellar. Once the first mold formed on the rounds, it was scraped off before the rounds were again returned to the crocks. When the second batch of mold appeared, it was time to begin the washing process.

  Each of the rounds had to be scrubbed with a stiff brush, a time-consuming and malodorous process that had to be repeated until the cheese rind attained the proper golden color.

  I grabbed my apron from the hook and tied it around my waist as Greta crossed the kitchen. “Are you sorry you didn’t stay and visit with Fred awhile longer?”

  I shook my head as we walked out the door. “There are worse things than smelling Handkäse.” Without elaborating any further, I pointed to the washtub. “If you want to pump the water, I think I can carry the boards and sawhorses by myself.”

  “Nein. Those boards are too heavy. We’ll set up the tables, and I can fill the washtub while you move the crocks.”

  I didn’t argue. The sawhorses and boards were heavy, and we worked in silence until we began to scrub the mold off the rinds. Greta dipped her brush into the washtub we had balanced at one end of the table. The heavy crocks balanced the boards at the other end. She shook the excess water from her brush and picked up a round of the cheese.

  “What did you mean when you said there are worse things than scrubbing this stinking cheese?” Scrubbing with a vengeance, she attacked the mold on the cheese round.