A Simple Change

by Judith Miller

  In truth, it didn’t make much difference whether Bretta told her friend. If Nathan went to work in the mill, everyone would soon know of his connection to our family. The outsiders came here for the work, but Nathan was different. He’d come here because of my family, and mostly, because of me.

  She tipped her head to the side and grinned. “John says Ritt will be jealous.”

  “You told John?” Margaret and John must be seeing each other more often than I realized.

  “Ja, sure. He was interested in hearing about him. John thinks you’ll return to Kansas City with your fellow.”

  “He’s not my fellow, Margaret.” I folded my arms across my waist. “You can tell John I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her smile faded. “No need to be cross with me. I told John you never mentioned having a suitor in Kansas City, but he says a man does not come all this way unless he is more than a friend.”

  I sighed. If Nathan remained in the colonies, I’d best get used to answering these questions. “He is a friend of the family and worked for my father. Before that, he worked in a woolen mill. He returned with my father to see if he could find work here.”

  Her eyebrows squished together. “So where was he working since you came here?”

  “At my father’s company.” I snatched one of the sheets from the stack and pointed to the unmade beds. “I’ll explain all of this later. We have work to finish.”

  She nodded but didn’t move. “Ja, you are right. But I would rather hear your story.”

  I shooed her toward the door. “Later, Margaret. The laundry will still be wet come nightfall if you don’t get started with the washing.”

  “Ja. And unless you start making those beds, the men will be sleeping on bare mattresses.” She chuckled and strode toward the laundry baskets. “If you are done before I return, you will come and help me hang the sheets?”

  While nodding my head, I snapped a sheet in the air and let it fall across the first mattress. I needed to write a note to Thomas, but this must come first.

  Chapter 16

  Once I’d finished the beds, I sat down at the table in the men’s parlor. If I didn’t hurry, Margaret would come looking for me, and I didn’t want her to catch me writing a letter—not when she’d specifically requested my help with the laundry. There wasn’t time to contemplate exactly what I needed to say. I needed to be quick, to the point, and not forget anything I needed to tell Thomas. First and foremost, he had to keep any contact with Nathan to a minimum and never divulge the fact that I’d been helping him locate Kathleen.

  I’d told Nathan that contact with outsiders was against the communal rules, and should he discover my dealings with Thomas, I was sure Nathan would point out the error of my ways. And who could say? With Nathan resolved that I should return to Kansas City, he might tell the elders, as well. I didn’t want to take such a risk. Nathan had never exhibited a great deal of jealousy, but I didn’t want to create any unnecessary problems. Not for Thomas and not for myself. He needed to understand the importance of avoiding Nathan.

  Next, I informed Thomas what I’d heard from Lilly regarding his sister’s whereabouts and then asked that he leave a note advising me whether he wanted Lilly to contact Kathleen’s adoptive family. I dipped my pen in the ink and finished the letter with my final instructions.

  You should leave your answer in the usual place. I cannot meet to discuss your decision. It is too risky.

  I didn’t sign my name. Thomas would know the correspondence was from me, and if any prying eyes should see the letter, I didn’t want my name revealed. After folding the note, I carried it to the adjacent room and placed it beneath the picture on Thomas’s trunk. I hadn’t dusted or scrubbed the porch, but I could return to those tasks later in the morning.

  I hurried outdoors, where the bright sunshine and warm breeze proved a pleasant change from the musty heat inside the living quarters. The gentle wind would dry the sheets in no time. Two large baskets of wet laundry rested on the grass beside Margaret. “It looks like I arrived just when you needed me.”

  Margaret rested her hands on her hips. “Ja, and I am sorry, but I will need you to hang these without my help. All of the work clothes still need to be washed. It will take me until the noonday meal before we can have those on the line.” Using the corner of her apron, she wiped the perspiration from her forehead and turned back to the washhouse.

  I usually enjoyed visiting with Margaret, but I was thankful we would be apart for the remainder of the morning. I was sure she would pepper me with more questions about Nathan and his sudden appearance. I didn’t want to answer them—at least not yet. I still held out hope there wouldn’t be a position at the mill and he would decide to return home.

  I wondered what he would do if he was offered a job at one of the mills in Main Amana rather than in Middle. Main was the largest of the villages, with both a calico mill and a woolen mill, and there might be a greater need for an experienced worker in that village. If he worked in Main, we would have at least a degree of separation, and though he disagreed, I still believed that was what we needed.

  Once the sheets were hung and blowing in the breeze, I returned inside. Despite the fact that I should have immediately finished my chores, I sat down at the table in the men’s quarters and removed Lilly’s letter from my pocket. I’d quickly perused the contents while seeking details for Thomas, but now I wanted to read the entire letter carefully.

  After a brief paragraph saying she hoped her letter found me in good health, Lilly began detailing the problems she’d encountered since my departure.

  I believe I am failing all of the children. Attempting to prepare and teach lessons for so many different levels is proving a monumental task. I fear the little ones will continue to fall behind if Mr. Ludwig does not hire someone soon. He says the directors of the orphanage cannot fund another position at this time.

  I suggested that during the interim he teach the older children and I would concentrate on your former students. I do wish you could have seen his face. You would have thought I’d suggested he jump from a bridge. He immediately informed me that he had been hired as director of the orphanage and that did not include teaching. I fear there is no solution to this problem. I don’t wish to burden you with this dilemma, as I know family obligations must come first.

  My heart ached, for it was clear she cared for the children more deeply than I’d thought. I truly admired the courage she’d exhibited, but I wasn’t surprised by Mr. Ludwig’s refusal to help. If the board of directors would occasionally visit the orphanage, they would see that beyond food and shelter, these children desperately needed an education if they were going to succeed.

  I turned the page and laughed aloud as I read how Caroline, Charlie, and Matthew had convinced several other students to devote two weeks of their recess time to writing and practicing a play.

  They did an excellent job, and I do wish I could make time to continue teaching them using stories, but it seems impossible.

  I am certain you were surprised by Nathan’s unannounced arrival. I was taken aback when he said he planned to remain in Iowa until he could convince you to return and marry him. Of course, I wished him well in the endeavor, as we all miss you and desire your return to us. The children were most excited to write notes that he would hand deliver to you. I do wish he would have come earlier so they would have had more time. I fear their handwriting is rather sloppy due to the time constraints. However, he willingly moved around the room and helped all of them.

  I dropped the pages on the table. Just as I’d thought. The children had been instructed what to write. I didn’t doubt they missed me, but I’m sure Matthew or Charlie would have written to tell me about their play if they’d had sufficient time. And little Bertie would have told me if she’d been having bad dreams. Why couldn’t Nathan be honest with me?

  Why aren’t you honest with him? The convicting question twisted like a knife. I wanted to believe I’d been honest with Nathan,
but perhaps I hadn’t. Did I simply want to make sure he wasn’t the man for me before I turned loose of him? Was I dangling hope in front of him like a carrot on a string as a means of protecting myself without considering his feelings? Nathan had some qualities I admired. Yet he could be abrasive and self-serving, as well. More importantly, he believed a reliance on God to be a weakness.

  We’d argued over that particular issue on several occasions. I’d used my father as an example of a man who credited God for the success he’d achieved. Nathan had countered that the success of the company was due to Father’s hard work, not to God. When Nathan asked if I credited God for my Mother’s illness as well as my Father’s success, I’d told him that I believed how we handled both the good and bad that entered our lives was a testimony to our faith. Handled properly, either could cause us to grow closer to the Lord.

  He had dismissed my comment as mere foolishness, and we’d never again discussed God or faith. Had God directed Nathan to Middle Amana to strengthen his faith, or was this Nathan’s final attempt to gain control of Forsythe Construction? Uncertain what to think, I folded Lilly’s letter and slipped it into my pocket. Did God want me to help Nathan grow spiritually? At this juncture, I wasn’t sure my own faith was strong enough to help Nathan—or anyone else for that matter.

  Nathan was present at the noonday meal. Once again he sat with the outsiders, but there was no way to know if he’d been hired. There wouldn’t be an opportunity to find out after we finished eating, as I’d promised to take the meal to my mother. By the time I picked up her food in the kitchen, the others would be headed back to their jobs.

  When I entered the kitchen a short time later, Sister Hanna greeted me. “I have the basket waiting for you to pack.” She gestured toward one of the worktables. “Your Mutter says I send too much food, but she needs to eat.” Sister Hanna pinched the fabric along one side of her dress and tugged it away from her body. “Your Mutter’s clothes are too big for her. You have noticed?”

  “She has lost some weight, but now that she’s feeling a little better, I’m hoping she will eat more.” Twice I had offered to stitch tucks in Mother’s dresses to provide a better fit, but she’d refused. She remained certain she would regain the weight by summer’s end. I wasn’t so sure, but I hadn’t argued. I thought perhaps the medicine caused the upset stomach she so frequently experienced, but she needed the medication to help relieve her muscle aches and pains.

  I carefully packed a generous serving of roast pork, creamed potatoes, and peas alongside the dumpling soup and a slice of thick dark bread slathered with butter.

  “I wrapped a few prune cookies in a napkin and put them aside before we served dessert.” She chuckled. “Otherwise, there would be none left. I think the men stuff extra cookies in their pockets before they go back to work.” She handed me the cookie-filled linen napkin. “If she says she is too full for the cookies, you should tell her to save them until later in the day. Tell her Sister Hanna says the cookies will help to fatten her up.”

  “You’re very kind. I’ll be sure to tell her.” I tucked a cotton towel around the edges of the basket, lifted it from the table, and headed toward home.

  Laundry days were always the most tiresome, and if Mother was still feeling well, I’d return to help Margaret take down and fold the clothes. Except when a good shirt was needed for a special occasion, none of the current outsiders chose to have their clothes ironed. Margaret and I mended any holes, but ironing cost extra, and most of the workers didn’t care to part with their money. At least not for pressed clothes. Instead, they gambled their extra money playing cards after supper. That’s what Margaret had told me, and I had no reason to doubt her.

  Holding the thick handles of the basket in one hand, I pushed down on the heavy metal latch and stepped into the parlor. “I’m home, Moth—” I startled and nearly dropped the basket. “Nathan! You frightened me. What are you doing here?”

  He pushed up from the sofa. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Your father said I could wait here for you. I thought you’d be pleased to see me.”

  I forced a smile. “I’m not displeased, merely surprised. Does Mother know you’re here?”

  He nodded. “I knocked at the parlor door when I arrived, and she called to me to come in and wait until you arrived.”

  “I’ll take Mother’s meal to her, and then we can visit for a short time before I return to work.” I motioned for him to sit down. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

  Moving at a quick pace, I crossed the room and opened the bedroom door. My mother was propped against several pillows and waved me forward. When I didn’t draw near enough to suit her, she crooked her finger. “Come closer.” I placed the basket on the floor and sat down on the edge of her bed. “Why is Nathan here?” she asked.

  I hiked a shoulder. “I’m uncertain. I’m going to talk to him once I set out your food. Father told him he could meet me here. Perhaps he didn’t get the job and he’s going to leave.”

  Grasping Mother around the waist, I gently helped her out of bed and into the chair.

  “Is that what you’re hoping?”

  “I don’t know, Mother.” One by one, I removed the containers from the basket and placed them on the table.

  She tipped her head and looked into my eyes. “You should be careful with the affections of others, Jancey. It would seem you have two men interested in a future with you. I’m sure you don’t want to hurt either one of them. Am I right?”

  “Yes, of course.” I handed her a napkin and silverware, and then poured a glass of water from the pitcher beside her bed. “I know this sounds foolish, but when I’m with Ritt, I have this feeling deep inside that I can’t explain—kind of like anticipation mixed with joy. He’s kind and has a good heart. I feel as though I truly come alive when I’m around him, though he has never spoken of marriage.”

  My mother’s lips curved in a slight smile. “I see. And when you’re with Nathan?”

  “I’ve never had such feelings with Nathan. He has some qualities that are admirable. He works hard and is interested in marriage and family—at least that’s what he’s told me from time to time. While Ritt is interested in what I think and what makes me happy, Nathan believes he can decide what will make me happy.” I sighed as she took a sip of water. “What drew you to Father?”

  “I respected your father, and we were unified in our beliefs.” My mother returned the glass of water to the bedside table. “I suppose reasons people marry vary from person to person, but I believe that without those two ingredients, a marriage is doomed for unhappiness. Women thrive on affirmations of love, but men thrive on affirmations of respect. And how can you show respect if you have little or none?” She didn’t wait for me to answer before she continued with another question. “Do you respect both of these young men?”

  I contemplated her question. There wasn’t any doubt I respected Ritt, but I couldn’t say I completely respected Nathan. Perhaps because his primary interests seemed to center around work and purchasing my father’s construction business rather than placing value on building our relationship.

  My mother reached out and squeezed my hand. “Since you must give this some thought, I am sure you haven’t developed a deep respect for at least one of these young men. Although I would love to see you marry before . . . in the near future, I believe it is important to take time and be certain you make the proper choice. You need to spend time in prayer as you attempt to make your decision, and I will do the same.”

  She inhaled a deep breath. “Now go and see what news Nathan has to tell you, and I will eat.”

  I dipped into the basket and placed the napkin-wrapped cookies on Mother’s table. “Sister Hanna sent prune cookies for you and says you should eat all of them.” I sucked in my cheeks. “She thinks you are too thin.”

  “I’ll do my best.” She gestured toward the doorway. “You go on. I’m fine.”

  I didn’t know what news Nathan would have, but I did know Mo
ther was right: I needed to pray about my future, and I needed to be certain I could always respect the man I married. As much as I wanted my mother alive to attend my wedding, I would do my best to wait upon God’s direction.

  I settled my attention on Nathan as I strode into the parlor. “How did your meeting go? Did you have a tour of the mill and meet with the supervisors?”

  Nathan patted the empty space beside him on the sofa. “Sit here and I’ll tell you everything.”

  Instead of doing his bidding, I sat down in the chair opposite him. “It is better if we don’t sit close together.”

  A spark of anger flashed in his eyes. “There is no one here to see us. I think you are taking these rules too far.”

  I ignored his comment. I didn’t want to argue. “What did you think of the mill?”

  “It looks to be a good place to work. The ample windows provide a great deal of sunlight, and I was surprised to see vases filled with flowers on the windowsills.” He chuckled. “They did add a nice touch to the rooms. The mill is larger than Watkins, but I don’t think the men work at the same rapid pace as was expected at the Watkins Mill. That surprised me. And we didn’t have midmorning and midafternoon work stoppages at Watkins to enjoy coffee and cake, either.”

  “What happened after you toured the mill this morning?”

  He sighed. “I accepted a position.”

  “In Middle or Main Amana?”

  “Why would I go to another village to work when I came here to be near you? That would make no sense, would it?”

  I shrugged and gave him a faint smile. “I don’t know, Nathan. Since you didn’t discuss your intentions with me before arriving, how could I know what would make sense?”