A Simple Change

by Judith Miller

  I couldn’t walk up to an outsider, tap him on the shoulder, and say, Excuse me, but while making your bed I saw a picture of a girl in front of the Kansas City Charity Home and wondered who she might be. Not cleaning my plate would pale in comparison to such forward behavior.

  At the completion of the after-meal prayer, I departed with the pair of dry stockings tucked beneath my cape and the umbrella overhead. The winds had died down, and though it continued to rain, I didn’t have to contend with the gusting sheets that had pelted me on my way to the Küche.

  Margaret was waiting inside when I returned. “I am glad to see you remembered to bring the umbrella back with you.”

  I stared at her in wonderment. “It is still raining, Margaret. There is little chance I would forget the umbrella.”

  She giggled as she removed her shoes. “Ja, I suppose that is right. I am going to put my shoes by the stove. They are soaked. You should do the same.” After dropping to one of the chairs, she untied her laces.

  I removed both my shoes and then placed my wet stockings over one of the wooden chairs to dry. “Sister Hanna gave me a pair of dry stockings from her mending basket.”

  “Did you talk to Brother Ritt at the Küche?” Propping her elbow on the table, she rested her chin in the palm of her hand.

  “No.”

  “I wish I lived in the same house with the Hetrigs. Maybe then Brother Ritt would notice me. I have tried my best to gain his attention, but with no success.” As though struck by a bolt of lightning, Margaret jumped to her feet. “Maybe you could help, ja?”

  My stomach lurched. I knew what she was going to ask, and I hoped to curtail any further talk of Ritt or his family. “I need to get busy in the other room. I haven’t even begun to dust.” I bolted toward the other room.

  “Wait!” She grasped my arm. “I want to ask if you would speak to Ritt for me.”

  I sighed. There would be no escape. I looked into her expectant eyes and waited.

  “Would you ask Brother Ritt if he has invited anyone to the picnic? To know would make it easier for me.” She rubbed her fingers together in a nervous manner. “If he hasn’t asked anyone, if you would mention my name, I would for sure be grateful to you.”

  What should I say? I didn’t want to hurt her by saying he’d invited me. Yet I couldn’t lie to her. If I told her the truth, would it become impossible to work side by side in the future? I’d been looking forward to the picnic, but now I hoped the rain would continue and the outing would be canceled. That would solve this dilemma—at least for the time being.

  “I can see my request has caused you discomfort.” She bowed her head. “I should not have asked. To make such an inquiry of a man you barely know would be most embarrassing. Please forget that I asked you. If Brother Ritt desires my company, he knows where I live and work and he will ask me.”

  I inhaled a deep breath and forced a smile, thankful Margaret had withdrawn her request. Yet while I dusted the windowsills and iron bed frames, guilt washed over me. What if the rain stopped and the picnic went on as scheduled? What if Margaret decided to attend without an escort and I appeared at the picnic on Ritt’s arm? How would she feel? I attempted to place myself in her position and knew I couldn’t remain silent. To prolong the matter would only make it worse.

  I tucked the dustrag into my apron pocket and returned to the other room. Margaret was stooped down in front of the stove, checking her shoes. She glanced over her shoulder as I approached. “Your shoes are dry so soon?” I asked.

  “Nein, but I thought I would turn them around so the heat will reach the back as well as the front. Should I turn yours?”

  I nodded and sat down on one of the chairs. “We need to talk, Margaret.”

  She arched her brows. “Ja? Something is wrong in the sleeping room?”

  I shook my head. “Everything is fine in the other room, but I need to speak with you about Ritt.”

  She beamed with anticipation and dropped into the chair opposite me. “For sure, I would like that.”

  My palms turned moist and I wanted to run from the room, but I swallowed hard and forced myself to speak. “When you first mentioned Ritt and the picnic, I should have told you that he’s already invited me.” Her mouth dropped open and she leaned away from me, her eyes pooling with tears. I reached toward her and when she didn’t withdraw, I grasped her hands and held them within my own. “I am truly sorry, Margaret. Please know I didn’t intend to hurt you. If I had known you cared for Ritt before he asked me, I would never have accepted his invitation. I don’t know what I can do to help ease your pain, but I didn’t want his invitation to come between us.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek. She pulled one hand from my grasp and wiped the tear away. “I am grateful you told me. At least I don’t have to keep hoping he’s going to show up and ask me.” Her lips curved in an awkward smile. “He has every right to ask the girl of his choice, and you have every right to accept. It’s not as though he’s ever asked to escort me anywhere.” She inhaled a ragged breath. “I just kept hoping he might notice me.”

  My heart ached for her, and I longed to say something that might help. “If you like, I’d be most willing to withdraw my acceptance. With my mother ill, I’m sure Ritt would think nothing of it. That way, he might ask you.”

  “Nein.” Margaret pulled away. “If you did that and he still didn’t invite me, I would feel even worse. You should go to the picnic with Ritt and enjoy yourself. If Ritt is the man God intends for me, He will place me on Ritt’s heart. If not, then I must accept that there is another plan for me.”

  I stared at Margaret, amazed by her discerning reply. Would I have been so insightful?

  I remained at the men’s quarters after Margaret departed. Following our talk, I’d moved at a slower pace than usual. And though I was the one who normally departed early, today it was Margaret.

  Once I finished my work, I returned to the bed near the end of the row and stared at the photograph. The girl was a painful reminder of how much I missed the children at the orphanage. Even though I didn’t know the girl, I longed to know who she was and her connection to the Charity Home and the unknown man who worked in the woolen mill.

  No doubt Ritt would think me unwise to seek such information. I pondered whether I should ask him and finally came to a decision: I would write a note and leave it beneath the photograph. There was no need to involve Ritt.

  After removing a sheet of stationery from a supply of paper and envelopes in the parlor, I sat down at the table and composed a brief note.

  To the owner of the photograph that was placed on top of this note:

  I am Jancey Rhoder, one of the colonists who helps clean the living quarters. I hope you will not think me meddlesome, but while dusting the top of your trunk, I could not help but notice the photograph. I was immediately drawn to the picture because I was a teacher at the Kansas City Charity Home before coming to Middle Amana. I do not recognize the girl in the picture, but I worked with the younger children, so there is a possibility I never met her. However, I am curious about who she is and if she still resides at the Charity Home.

  You could write the information at the bottom of the page, but if you don’t want to answer, I understand.

  Sincerely,

  Sister Jancey Rhoder

  I folded the sheet of paper in half and tucked it beneath the photograph. I hoped the owner of the picture would be the one to find my note. Even more, I hoped he could read.

  Chapter 10

  The rain had ceased during the night, but the air remained heavy and oppressive. Brother Werner had declared the rain good for the wheat, corn, vegetable gardens, and vineyard. I was sure he was right, but I hoped my shoes would remain dry today. After drying them near the stove, they felt as though they had shrunk at least half a size. In spite of the rain and my pinching shoes, I was eager to reach the men’s quarters, so as soon as Brother Herman uttered amen to the after-breakfast prayer, I rushed out the door.


  Children scurried off toward the schoolhouse while a few adults remained outside the Küche talking before departing to their assigned daily work. I had gone only a short distance when Ritt shouted my name.

  “Wait!” He jogged to my side. “What is your hurry? Has something happened? You rushed away from the Küche so quickly I became worried.”

  “Nothing has happened. I am fine.” Continuing at a quick pace, I strode onward.

  He pinned me with a perplexed gaze. “But you didn’t wait for me. Have I done something?”

  I shook my head. Because the woolen mill and the outsiders’ living quarters were situated in close proximity, I’d begun walking to work with Ritt. In my haste this morning, I’d forgotten that he would look for me. My mind whirled as I tried to think of a reasonable answer.

  “I’m sorry. It is humid and once the sun comes out, it will be more difficult to breathe. I want to complete as much work as possible before it is unbearable inside.” There was truth in my words, for in no time the men’s quarters would turn hot and steamy.

  “Ja, is the same in the mill. Maybe worse, I think.” He kicked at a rock. “I’m looking forward to the picnic on Saturday. You are still going with me, ja?”

  “Yes, of course.” My heart warmed at the thought. Being around Ritt always seemed to lighten my spirits. Birds twittered overhead, and I leaned sideways as we passed beneath a hanging tree branch. “Do you know if any of the men have an interest in Sister Margaret? She is a nice young woman, and I think she would be pleased to have an escort for the picnic.”

  He hiked a shoulder. “No one has mentioned her to me, but that is not so odd. I think no one talks about who they ask because they fear the girl may say no.” He tipped his head to one side. “It is embarrassing to be refused, and we do not like others to know.”

  “I understand, but should you discover one of the men is looking for someone to invite, you could mention her name. I don’t think she would refuse.”

  Probably I shouldn’t meddle in Margaret’s life. She’d been plainspoken about putting God in charge of her future. But perhaps I could help God with this particular project. Maybe God wanted to use me to help Margaret find a man. At least that’s what I told myself.

  Ritt slowed his step as we approached the mill. “I will see what I can find out and maybe mention Margaret as a prospect. You are kind to befriend her. I have heard she isn’t the best worker in the village—that sometimes she seems slow.”

  His comment annoyed me. In truth, Margaret was a hard worker. “I don’t know why anyone would say Margaret isn’t a good worker. She never leaves before her work is completed, and she does a good job, too.” I shot a defiant look in his direction as we came to a halt in front of the mill. “And when you say she is slow, I’m sure you aren’t referring to her intelligence, since she tells me she attended school through the eighth grade.” I hesitated a moment. “Just like most others who live here, if I am remembering correctly.”

  For a moment, he appeared bewildered by my outburst. “Ja, but she had a little trouble with reading, I think.”

  I tilted my head and met his puzzled look. “But you’re the one who told me that reading and writing weren’t important.”

  He inhaled a deep breath. “Since seeing you work with Madelyn, I have changed my mind a little, but I still believe it is more important to be a skilled worker than to possess the ability to read with ease.”

  “Then you should not refer to Sister Margaret as slow, for she is as skilled at her work as anyone else in the village.”

  Ritt frowned and shook his head. “It isn’t my wish to argue about Sister Margaret.” He glanced toward the mill. “I must go to work. If an opportunity arises, I will mention her name to some of the brothers.”

  Shoulders squared, he turned and walked away as the work bell rang in the distance. What had come over me? I turned toward the outsiders’ quarters and caught sight of Margaret entering the building. Instead of arriving at work before her, I had become embroiled in a silly spat with Ritt. What if she went into the sleeping quarters and discovered one of the men had left a note for me?

  I raced toward the door. By the time I entered the building, I was gasping for air. I clutched a hand to my bodice, relieved to see Margaret in the sitting room cleaning ashes from the stove.

  She glanced over her shoulder as my labored breathing continued. “You did not need to run, Jancey. This is not like working at the mill. There is no one to make sure you arrive on time.”

  “Maybe not, but we are still expected to be here when the bell rings.”

  She shrugged and returned to her work. “Ja, I suppose that is right, but so long as we finish before the men return for the evening, all is well.”

  I gathered my cleaning supplies and stepped into the other room with my gaze fastened upon the trunk where I’d left my note. After placing the supplies in one corner, I hurried down the aisle that separated the two rows of beds and stopped beside the trunk. My breath caught when I spotted a corner of the stationery peeking out from beneath the photograph. Either he hadn’t discovered my note or he’d left an answer.

  Leaning forward, I pushed aside the photograph and picked up the folded note.

  “I’m going out to empty the bucket of ashes.”

  Startled by Margaret’s announcement, I dropped the note and it fluttered to rest atop the rumpled sheets. My hands trembled as I wheeled around to answer, but she’d already departed through the open doorway. Relieved, I exhaled a slow breath and unfolded the note. Beneath my precise script, a short reply was printed in uneven bold letters: Meet me at the pond after supper.

  There was no signature, not even initials. Just those seven brief words that were more a command than a request. A shiver raced down my arm, and I shoved the note into my pocket. For the remainder of the morning, I did my best to push thoughts of the girl in the photograph out of my mind. What difference did it make who she was? It wasn’t as if I knew the girl.

  At supper I scanned the table of outsiders hoping for some clue, but I saw nothing. When we prepared to depart after the evening meal, I remained unsure what I should do. A part of me still wanted to go, yet a modicum of fear mingled with the desire to unearth the mystery of the girl’s identity. I continued to weigh the possibilities and said a silent prayer as I walked out of the Küche. Perhaps God would direct me.

  “Sister Jancey, Sister Jancey, wait for me!” Madelyn skipped to my side and grasped my hand. “I know it’s not our teaching night, but could you help me? I don’t understand some of the schoolwork I need to have prepared for tomorrow.” She pointed toward the Küche. “Mutter must help with the cleanup and won’t be home until time for prayer meeting.”

  “I believe I’ve received my answer,” I muttered.

  Madelyn looked about. “Answer to what?”

  “What I should be doing between now and time for prayer service.” I squeezed her hand as we walked toward home.

  When I arrived at work the following morning, another note awaited me. Once again, it had been placed beneath the photograph. At first I considered leaving it there untouched, but what if Margaret should read it and realize I’d been exchanging notes with an outsider? There was no doubt she’d feel compelled to report my behavior. I shoved the piece of paper into my pocket and set to work, unwilling to take a chance that Margaret might see it and question me.

  When she went outside a short time later, I removed the paper from my pocket. The note bore the same uneven bold printing, but instead of a single sentence, he’d written a brief message. I quickly scanned the contents.

  I’m sorry you didn’t come to the pond yesterday. I’ve seen you cleaning at the quarters when I go to the Küche for morning break. I know who you are.

  A knot formed in the pit of my stomach. He knew who I was, but I didn’t know him. I wasn’t certain if I should be frightened or if he was simply trying to form a bond with me.

  I want to meet you. Please come to the pond after supper tonight
. The girl in the photograph is my sister, and I need to get information about her. I hope you will help me.

  Thomas Kingman

  Learning the girl in the photograph was the man’s sister and he wanted to secure information about her whereabouts convinced me. How could I refuse to help him?

  After supper, I hurried from the Küche, determined to make my way to the pond before Madelyn or anyone else had an opportunity to stop me. I wasn’t certain how I would answer if I should be questioned as to my whereabouts, but I knew I should have something in mind before I returned home. I hurried along a hidden path that Madelyn had shown me some weeks ago, a shortcut that she and her friends used when making their summertime treks to the pond. It would save time, and I wouldn’t be easily observed.

  The warm, humid air wrapped around me like a damp glove as I hurried along the trail. I stopped several times to gain my bearings. The rains had washed through, leaving portions of the trail rugged and undefined. The odor of musty leaves and damp earth filled my nostrils as I pushed aside tree branches and continued onward.

  My spirits soared when I finally stepped out from a cluster of overgrown bushes and caught sight of the pond. I’d made it. I looked about, uncertain where Thomas would be, but I didn’t have to wait long. He was standing near the water skipping rocks across the pond. He looked up and loped toward me with long, easy strides.

  I narrowed my eyes to get a better look as he approached. He didn’t appear familiar. He came to a halt a short distance in front of me and swiped a hank of tawny hair off his forehead. His eyes were as blue as a summer sky, and there was no denying he’d been blessed with rugged good looks. I guessed him to be at least three inches taller than my father. He cast a large shadow, and I felt quite small and somewhat frightened in his presence.

  “Mr. Kingman?”

  He chuckled and cocked a brow. “Were you expectin’ to find anyone else out here?”