“You say you don’t know my intentions, but I’ve made them perfectly clear.” He leaned forward and rested his arms across his legs. “You know I care for you, and if living here will prove that to you, I’m willing to do so.”
He was right. We were going in circles and accomplishing little. “So you will be living in the men’s quarters?”
He nodded. “One of the outsiders took me to see the quarters while we were on midmorning break. I thought I’d see you when we were there, but you were nowhere in sight.” He leaned closer. “Where were you?”
His question sounded like an accusation. “I was hanging laundry near the washhouse located a short distance away.”
He straightened and then leaned back. “It’s hard to imagine you doing laundry. Is that really what you want to do with your life?”
“I don’t know what I want for the rest of my life, but for now I’m content cleaning and doing laundry.” I swallowed hard. “Have you met all of the other men who live in the quarters?”
“Since we’re not allowed to talk during meals, I’ve met only a few of them. The ones who work in the mill.”
My stomach lurched. He’d probably met and talked to Thomas. What if Thomas had already told him about his sister? Even worse, what if he’d told Nathan that I’d been helping him? “Which one of the men took you to see the dormitory?”
“Thomas Kingston or Kingman—something like that. Why do you ask?”
My heart pounded until I thought it would explode within my chest. “I didn’t know how accepting the men were when someone new arrived.”
“I didn’t come here to make friends with the other workers, but he was nice enough. He said he planned to leave once he got some things straightened out in his life.” Nathan chuckled. “I told him I planned to leave once I got a few things straightened out, too.”
I wanted to ask what else he and Thomas had discussed, but the words stuck in my throat. Why had my simple life in Amana become so complicated?
Chapter 17
A short time later, Nathan departed for the hotel to gather his belongings and move them to the dormitory while I returned to work. Before going to the washhouse to help Margaret, I wanted to stop by the men’s quarters. I wasn’t certain of the time, but I’d remained at home far too long. I hastened my step. The stop wouldn’t take much time, and I wanted to know if Thomas had retrieved my note.
Beads of perspiration dotted my forehead and upper lip by the time I arrived at the men’s quarters. Taking long strides, I rushed through the sitting room and came to a halt beside Thomas’s bed. There was no need to lift the picture of Kathleen. I could see my note was gone. I swiped the corner of my apron across my forehead and inhaled a deep breath. Thomas must have picked up the note when he’d shown Nathan through the quarters.
I didn’t want to believe he’d mentioned the note or me to Nathan, but my timing could not have been worse. Everything had come together in the wrong place and at the wrong time. I tried to think what I would have done in Thomas’s circumstance. I’d warned him not to mention our meetings to others, but would he think that included a new outsider—a man who had roots in Kansas City, knew me, and could possibly provide even more help locating his sister?
As I grasped the possibility, my knees grew weak and I dropped to the side of the bed. Thus far, Thomas hadn’t proved to have a long memory when it came to the instructions I’d given him regarding the secretive nature of our dealings. I’d been strident with him the last time we’d talked, and I hoped he’d taken my warning to heart.
A horse whinnied and men’s voices drifted through the open front door. I jumped to my feet as Nathan hollered his thanks for the ride. Without so much as a glance over my shoulder, I raced out the rear door and across the grassy expanse to the washhouse. I clasped a hand to my chest and panted for breath as I walked inside.
Margaret’s mouth dropped open when she turned and looked at me. “Why you are running? Is not gut to run on a day that is so hot.”
Still gasping for air, I leaned against the wooden doorjamb. “I’m late and I didn’t want you to worry.” The heat in the room was oppressive, but that hadn’t stopped Margaret from lighting a fire in the stove. When I questioned her, she pointed to the tin coffeepot sitting atop the stove. “I like my coffee hot.”
Though I couldn’t imagine drinking hot coffee when the temperatures soared, I nodded. She clopped across the room, wearing the wooden shoes we donned to keep our leather shoes from getting wet when we laundered clothes. After changing her shoes, she pointed to the empty basket. “Already I hung out the work clothes, but together we will take down the sheets and fold them.”
We each picked up a large woven basket and walked to the rope clotheslines that had been strung between cross-style posts. The wooden posts reminded me of the cross where Jesus had died for my sins, and in spite of the heat, I shivered. I couldn’t imagine such a death—or such love. The enormity of His selfless act of dying to wash away my sins and provide a path to eternal life had become more evident to me since coming to Middle Amana. Throughout these past couple of months I’d begun to think of Jesus as a friend I could talk to—a personal intercessor who wanted to hear my problems and was never too busy for me. Perhaps it was the quietude and bucolic surroundings that drew me closer to Him. I couldn’t be sure.
I was pleased by the modicum of inner peace I’d gained since my arrival, but feelings of guilt still plagued me. I should be completely honest with both Ritt and Nathan. I’d prayed for guidance and the ability to make a clear choice about my future, but I still hadn’t received an answer. Why did it seem so easy for others to wait upon God, but not for me? Then again, maybe it wasn’t easy; maybe they simply waited in silence.
Margaret nudged my arm. “You are going to help me or stand there and stare at the post?” She held one end of a dry sheet in her hand.
I stepped a short distance from her, removed the wooden clothespin, and walked toward her while holding my end of the sheet. We moved back and forth, quickly folding the sheets and pillowcases before placing them in our baskets.
“Your Mutter is not doing so well?”
“Nein, she is doing better. I think tomorrow she will be able to come with us to the kitchen house.” As I unpinned another sheet, realization dawned on me. “I wasn’t late because of Mutter. Nathan was waiting at the house when I got there, and he wanted to talk to me.”
I hadn’t wanted to discuss Nathan further with Margaret, but she deserved an honest explanation.
“If you tell me he is going back home, I know it will make Ritt very happy.”
My heart skipped a beat. Exactly what had Ritt told John Olson? If I could keep Margaret focused upon Ritt, maybe she wouldn’t ask so many questions about Nathan.
Instead of responding to her comment, I asked a question of my own. “Why do you think it would make Ritt happy? Has he been talking to John about me?”
She giggled. “Ja, but I am not supposed to know.”
“What did he say, Margaret?”
She glanced over one shoulder and then the other. I smiled, uncertain why she thought anyone would be close enough to overhear. “He told John he likes you very much and hopes you will stay in the colonies. He thinks you have a gut heart.”
“That’s wonderful to know. I think he’s very nice, as well.” My cheeks warmed, and I dropped another sheet into the basket. “But please don’t repeat to John what I’ve told you.” I bent forward until we were eye to eye. “Promise?”
“Ja, I promise. But now you must tell me more about Nathan. If not for you, why else would he come here?”
There seemed no way to escape Margaret’s questions. If I didn’t answer today, I’d face the same inquiry tomorrow or the next day. “It’s true that he came here to try to persuade me to return, but I didn’t ask him to come.”
“So he is in love with you?”
“He says he wants to marry me, but I’m not convinced of his love.”
Ma
rgaret’s frown deepened. “This I do not understand. Why else would he want to marry you?”
I didn’t want to tell her that my father’s business likely interested Nathan as much, or possibly more, than I did. Margaret wasn’t familiar with marriages that had been forged for power, money, or social status. After all, none of that mattered here, and I would never have enough time to explain the workings of the outside world to Margaret.
I tried to think of something that would help her understand. I touched my finger to the side of my head. “Up here, he thinks it would be good to marry me.” I moved my finger to my heart. “In here, I am not sure he feels true love. When I came here, I told him it would be good for us to have time apart. He could discover if he really loved me, and I could do the same.”
She bobbed her head. “Ja, like our year of separation when a couple becomes engaged.” I agreed and hoped that would put her questions to rest, but when I reached for the basket, she grasped my arm. “What about your heart? Does it feel true love for him?”
I shook my head. “No. Not yet.”
“That is gut for Ritt.” When I lifted my hand in protest, she chuckled. “I will not tell him, but still it is gut.”
I didn’t have to wait long for a response from Thomas. The following morning, a note lay beneath the picture of Kathleen. Once Margaret set to work, I picked up the letter, moved to the other side of the sleeping room where I was sure she wouldn’t see me, unfolded the piece of paper, and skimmed the contents.
He asked that I contact Lilly and secure the name of the adoptive family and an address for Kathleen, if possible.
It would be easier if Kathleen could write to me instead of going through others. You can give them my address when you write. I hear you know Nathan, the new fellow who started work yesterday. Don’t worry. I won’t say nothing. As soon as you hear from the lady in Kansas City, leave me a note. TK
In the future, both Thomas and I would need to be more careful with our notes. Granted, his note didn’t contain my name, but if Nathan had picked it up, he would have known it was intended for me. After telling Nathan I was trying to live by the rules of the colonists, he’d have a lot of questions for me. Questions I wouldn’t be able to answer to his satisfaction.
I tucked the letter into my pocket as Margaret rounded the corner.
She held a broom in one hand and a metal dustpan in the other. “I am doing my best to complete as much as I can today. You remember that you will be here by yourself on Monday. Ja?”
I stared at her, unable to immediately redirect my thoughts. “Myself?”
Her smile faded as she tapped the bristles of the straw broom on the wooden floorboards. “Ja, yourself. Unless it rains, onion harvest begins on Monday.”
“Yes. Onion harvest. I’d forgotten.”
Her frown deepened. “You would not forget if you were going to be out in the hot sun on your hands and knees pulling the onions. Believe me, it makes for long, hard days.”
I was surprised by her lack of eagerness. After hearing Madelyn’s enthusiastic tales, I had volunteered to help with the onion harvest. But when the list of workers was announced, my name hadn’t been chosen. Instead, I was assigned to take over extra duties at my regular job. Of course, not everybody helped with the onion harvest, but anyone who could be released from regular duty was assigned to the task. And for those like me, it meant extra work at our usual job.
“Madelyn tells me that onion harvest and grape picking are her favorite times of year. That’s why I volunteered. I don’t know why I wasn’t chosen instead of you.”
Margaret chortled. “Madelyn and the other children like onion harvest because they are released from school. For them it is more fun to pull onions in the hot sun than to sit in the schoolroom. When I was in school, I looked forward to time in the fields, too, but not anymore.” She pointed to her knees. “Is hard on the knees and the hands, but the onion crop helps provide for all of us, so I should not complain.”
One evening after I’d completed reading lessons with the girls, Ritt had explained that onions were grown in abundance in the villages. “We grow enough for ourselves,” he’d told me, “but we also sell our Ebenezer onions and onion seeds to the outside world. Many seed companies want our seeds because the quality is very gut.”
“And Sister Anna thinks her seeds are the very best,” Madelyn had volunteered.
When I expressed my confusion, Madelyn told me that each garden boss, along with the other women assigned to work in the garden, planted and cared for beds of onion sets as well as the large plots that were planted to produce seeds. “When they weighed the seeds from Sister Anna’s garden last year, she had almost four hundred pounds of seeds.”
Ritt laughed when I gasped in surprise. “It’s true. In Middle we sometimes harvest over two thousand pounds of onions,” he’d said. I couldn’t imagine such a mountain of onions.
Margaret handed me the dustpan. While I held the flat base against the floor, she swept a small mound of dirt into the metal container. “When it is time for the onion seed harvest in August, you should speak to Sister Anna. She might let you help. Is probably better you try the smaller harvest in the gardens before you try working out in the fields.”
I stood and carried the dustpan outside and watched as the contents scattered in the wind. Margaret was right. Hadn’t I always told the schoolchildren they couldn’t read a book until they first learned the alphabet? If I was going to adjust to this new life, that’s what I must do—take it step by step.
For the remainder of the day, Margaret accomplished as much as possible, and when we parted for the evening, I gave her a quick hug. On Sundays, she attended a meeting at a different meetinghouse than I did, so I likely wouldn’t see her again until after onion harvest was completed. “Thank you for doing so much today. Your hard work will make it easier for me on Monday.”
A rush of pink colored her cheeks and she brushed aside my words of praise. I’d learned Sister Margaret didn’t easily accept compliments, but I wanted to show my appreciation. “I am glad I was assigned to work with you.”
She bobbed her head and flashed a smile. “We have become gut friends, ja?”
“We have. You have taught me a great deal. I will be praying the sun will remain behind the clouds and a cool breeze blows across the fields next week.”
Margaret squeezed my hand. “After the hot weather we have had this past week, I will gladly join you in that prayer, Sister Jancey. If you have any problems while I am gone, you should remember to go to the Küche. Sister Bertha will be able to help you.”
After assuring her I’d be fine, we parted and I walked toward home. I hadn’t gone far when I heard footfalls and glanced over my shoulder. I stopped when I saw Ritt racing toward me. The bells chimed in the distance as he came alongside me.
“I’m surprised to see you. Why are you off work early today?” I matched his stride as we headed toward home.
The hour wasn’t early for most of us, but during the summer when large orders from the outside world arrived and needed to be filled before fall, all the mills remained open later. Recently many of the workers had been required to work until ten or eleven at night. The men claimed they didn’t mind because they enjoyed the extra cash or store credits they received for their long hours at the mill. Ritt, however, hoped his longer hours and good workmanship would benefit him in another way. He wanted to become a supervisor in the weaving room.
“Because your friend said he was the best weaver at the mill where he worked, Brother William said I could go home, and he would see how well Nathan could weave on my machines. Is not right that I must give up my extra hours of work for that boastful man.”
“Maybe you should speak with Brother William about your complaints. Or maybe speak to Brother William’s supervisor regarding your concerns.”
“Brother William is in charge of the woolen mill. His decisions are final.” With the tip of his shoe, Ritt kicked a small rock down the wooden sid
ewalk. “For sure, I think your friend wants to become a lead weaver or supervisor. He wants the same job as I do.”
There was a sting to his words, and I scowled. “You act as though this is my fault.”
“He is your friend. If not for you, he would not be in the mill working at my looms.”
“Brother William assigned Nathan to work at your machines, not me. He is an experienced and diligent worker, and I am sure Brother William wants to put Nathan’s talents to good use.”
“And you are very quick to praise and defend him.” He pinned me with a cold stare. “I see how it is.”
My heart froze as he turned and walked away. Had I just destroyed the possibility of finding true love?
Chapter 18
On Sunday, Ritt remained detached. While he’d previously looked for opportunities to visit or walk beside me, since our talk on Saturday, he’d avoided me. Even though we attended different meetings on Sunday morning, he’d previously found opportunities to draw close and talk to me along the way, but not this morning. Inside the meetinghouse, I’d gone to sit on the women’s side beside Madelyn. Like me, she attended Kinder Versammlungen, the meeting for those of us who hadn’t attained full spiritual knowledge in the ways of the church.
The meetinghouse was a bit larger than other structures in the village, but unlike the large crosses and signage on churches in the outside world, the Amana meetinghouses remained plain and unassuming. There were no cushions to soften the pine pews, and the straight backs seemed angled forward rather than into a more comfortable back position. That, of course, was likely my imagination. But after sitting on the hard pews or kneeling on the pine floor, I’d decided nothing in the church had been created with comfort in mind. Hearts and minds were to be turned to God during worship, but my mind sometimes wandered to my discomfort rather than to God.
Madelyn reached over and squeezed my hand, and I smiled down at her. Moments later, we both stood to sing one of the songs in the Psalter-Spiel. I wasn’t familiar with the tune, and without the benefit of an organ or piano to aid us, my voice faltered into an unharmonious warble. Madelyn clapped a hand over her mouth while I stifled a chuckle of my own. I didn’t want to do anything that would cause either of us to be reprimanded for inappropriate behavior during worship.
A Simple Change Page 16