A Simple Change

by Judith Miller

  After church, my thoughts immediately returned to Ritt and his unwillingness to let me further explain my comments. When he was nearby, he wouldn’t look at me. I tried my best to find a moment when I could speak with him, but he made it impossible, and I finally gave up. While I understood his disappointment regarding his work at the mill, I could make no sense of his anger toward me.

  My earlier response had not been meant as a defense of Nathan. Everything I’d said was true: Nathan did possess strong work skills and had proved himself to be an excellent craftsman. Had Nathan questioned me regarding Ritt, I would have said much the same about him, for I’d heard many of the brothers commend Ritt for his abilities.

  Still, it seemed he wanted to blame me for decisions made by Brother William, and as Ritt’s stubborn behavior continued, my anger mounted. Was he going to let his job at the mill come between us?

  When Madelyn and I arrived home, she stopped in the foyer. “Do you want to come upstairs so you can check the lessons I completed?”

  “Maybe later, Madelyn.” If Ritt had returned from the meeting, I didn’t want him to think I was chasing after him.

  She grinned and bobbed her head. “Gut. That will give me time to finish learning my spelling words.” She bounded up the stairs with enviable enthusiasm.

  After the noonday meal, Nathan knocked on our door. Although his arrival was unexpected, I was pleased for the diversion. Rather than remain indoors and fret over Ritt’s attitude, I agreed to accompany Nathan on a walk to the river. Besides, a stroll outdoors held much more appeal than forced small talk in the parlor.

  However, I hadn’t counted on the fact that other people would see me with Nathan. My stomach clenched when I caught sight of Margaret and John sitting together near the water’s edge. While tugging on Nathan’s arm, I nodded in the opposite direction. “Let’s go down this way a little farther.”

  He shook his head. “This is the best place. I checked with several of the fellows, and they said there are flat rocks along here that provide a good place to sit near the water.”

  I knew he was right, for this was the area where I’d come with Ritt and Madelyn. “We don’t have to be close to the water. I’d prefer a place where there was a bit more shade, wouldn’t you?”

  Nathan frowned and glanced about, but before he could answer, Margaret shouted my name. Jumping to her feet, she waved both arms high in the air. “Come down here and join us!”

  Her invitation surprised me. Had she not noticed Nathan was at my side?

  Nathan squinted and cupped his hand above his eyes. “Who is that calling to you?”

  “Sister Margaret. She works with me cleaning the men’s quarters. I’ve mentioned her to you.”

  “And that looks like John Olson from the woolen mill beside her. I’ve spoken to him a few times.” He grasped my elbow. “Come on, let’s go join them.”

  I wanted to run and go the other way, but refusing might give rise to questions about why I didn’t want to socialize with Margaret. “Only for a short time and then let’s look for some shade.”

  “I don’t know why you’re worried about the sun. You’re wearing a huge bonnet and your arms are covered. I don’t think even the brightest sun could penetrate your attire.” His gaze traveled the length of my calico dress. “Don’t you miss wearing fashionable clothing?”

  “In truth, I don’t miss fretting over which gown to wear or whether my hair has been coiffed in the proper style of the day. Of the things I have missed, fancy dresses would be near the bottom of my list.”

  He grinned as we drew near to Margaret and John. “Then I hope you’ll tell me that I am at the top.”

  My shoulders tensed and I looked away. “That’s impossible, Nathan. You’re right here beside me. I no longer have a reason to miss you.”

  “Look at the fish John caught!” Margaret tugged on a line and lifted a flopping carp out of the water. “Isn’t it grand?”

  I was thankful Margaret interrupted before Nathan could rephrase his request. He would have been unhappy to hear that the schoolchildren were the ones I most longed to see.

  “That’s a wonderful catch.” I bobbed my head with as much enthusiasm as I could muster and forced a cheery smile.

  While John and Nathan exchanged greetings, Margaret tipped her head close to mine. “I thought you would be with Ritt, not with Nathan.”

  “Ritt is unhappy with me,” I told her.

  Nathan stepped to my side. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend, Jancey?”

  I introduced Margaret and told him of her many kindnesses to me.

  He nodded at her. “I’m pleased to meet you, Margaret.”

  “Welcome to our village. Have you decided that you like living in the colonies?”

  “Living here is not what I would choose for myself, but I do like being near Jancey.” He rested his hand on my sleeve. “And if it means I must live in the village to be close to her, then I am willing. Of course, it is my hope that she will return to Kansas City with me.” He flashed a smile in my direction.

  John’s forehead pinched into a frown. “I thought you planned to stay in Middle, Sister Jancey.”

  “Look!” Margaret nudged John’s arm. “A fish is nibbling on your bait. Don’t let it get away.” She leaned close and encouraged him as he landed the fish. “It is a gut one. Even bigger than the last.”

  While the two of them assessed their latest catch, I leaned toward Nathan. “They don’t get to be alone very often. Maybe we should leave them to enjoy the afternoon by themselves.”

  We stood and Nathan gently squeezed my arm. “And I would like to enjoy some time alone with you, as well.”

  I immediately regretted my suggestion, but I feared a retraction would require an explanation, and I didn’t have one at the ready. I gestured to Margaret. “I think we’re going to walk a ways and sit in the shade.”

  “Please stay. The sisters who work in our Küche made extra cookies and sent some with me,” she said, motioning to a small basket. “I am happy to share. There are too many for John and me, aren’t there?” She arched her brows at John.

  He nodded. “Ja, sit down. We have plenty. And I have a jug of water keeping cool down there in the river.”

  Without looking to Nathan for affirmation, I sat back down. “I suppose we could remain a while longer. I am getting a little thirsty, and that cool water sounds inviting.”

  Nathan dropped down beside me. “A cookie does sound good.”

  There was confusion in his voice, but I pretended not to notice and helped Margaret spread a small cloth. John propped his fishing pole between two rocks and came to sit near us.

  He picked up a cookie and waved it in Nathan’s direction. “So how did you like working the late hours with us last night? Is at least cooler in the evening. Ja?”

  Nathan nodded. “I didn’t mind, but I wouldn’t want to work so many hours every day.”

  John took a bite of his cookie. “Ja, well you should be sure to tell Brother William you do not want the long hours. For sure it may change his opinion.”

  “Opinion about what?” Nathan helped himself to one of the date cookies.

  John arched his brows high on his forehead. “About who receives promotions and is chosen to work extra hours. Is that not what we are talking about?”

  “I don’t mind the extra hours some of the time. Besides, Brother William said the longer hours are necessary only when there are large orders for blankets and flannel. If it means a better job that pays more, then I wouldn’t object.” He shrugged as if such large orders would be of little consequence.

  John frowned. “Our products are in high demand, and the long hours can go on for more than a short time. Each year we weave at least twenty thousand blankets and produce over half a million yards of flannel cloth. Our goods are highly prized.”

  “I’ll do what I must, but who can say what the future holds for me.” He glanced in my direction. “Or for Jancey.”

  “B
ut if you do not know how long you will stay, it would be best if you didn’t seek such a position, don’t you think? A frequent change of supervisors is not so gut.” John popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

  Nathan shrugged. “If Brother William doesn’t think it’s a problem, why would I? The pay here is less than I made in the last woolen mill where I worked, so if I can be paid extra money as a supervisor, I wouldn’t turn down the offer.”

  John hunched forward. “If you would receive such an offer, it would be gut to ask God’s guidance so you have His direction in your life.”

  Shoulders taut and lips pressed into a tight seam, Nathan pushed to his feet and gestured for me to follow. There was little doubt he’d found John’s suggestion offensive. Nathan wouldn’t ask for God’s guidance about a position at the mill—or anything else, for that matter.

  The following morning, I walked to the men’s quarters by myself. Nathan and the other outsiders usually departed earlier than the rest of us. I had hoped Ritt might seek me out after breakfast so that I could tell him about going to the river with Nathan and the visit with Margaret and John, but he left with two of the other men. I worried Ritt’s anger would deepen once he heard Nathan’s comments regarding work at the woolen mill. I had hoped there would be an opportunity to mend any possible wounds, but it seemed that would not happen this morning.

  Today would be longer than most for me. There had been no rain, so Margaret would be in the fields pulling onions with many of the other women and children. The heat had subsided a little and I wanted to think my prayers had helped. Maybe God would help with Ritt and his stubborn attitude, as well. I glanced heavenward and uttered a short petition as I strode into the dormitory.

  Without Margaret to talk to, my thoughts drifted like billowing clouds carried on the hot breeze. I thought about the children back in Kansas City and wondered what they were doing on this bright summer morning, I thought about Mother’s health, I thought about making a permanent home in the colonies, but mostly I thought about Nathan and Ritt. When Nathan first arrived, it seemed Ritt viewed him as a competitor for my affection. Now, however, it appeared it wasn’t me at all—it was competition for the position at the woolen mill. The idea gnawed at me as I picked up the broom and swept the wooden floor. Perhaps John Olson had misunderstood Ritt’s comments about me, for since Nathan’s arrival, it appeared Ritt’s primary concern was a promotion at the mill and any thoughts of me had vanished from his mind.

  The men’s quarters always needed extra cleaning on Mondays, and today was no exception. On Sundays during the summer, the men sometimes went fishing or swimming in the river, but some of them remained behind to play cards, write letters, or read a magazine or book—and some remained behind and imbibed. From the appearance of the sleeping room, a few of them had gotten drunk last evening and then become sick during the night. The mess they’d made on the floor hadn’t been properly cleaned, and the smell made me gag as I moved further into the room. I had hoped to wait until tomorrow to scrub the floors, but this wouldn’t wait.

  I worked my way down one side of the room, then stopped and went outside to the pump for fresh water. After placing the bucket of water on the floor, I arched backward and rubbed the center of my back. How it ached after moving only one row of beds.

  Determined to complete the task before the noonday meal, I grasped the metal frame of Thomas’s bed with both hands and yanked it toward the center of the room. The legs on the right side of the frame jostled, but one of the left legs wouldn’t budge.

  “What is wrong with this bed?” I muttered while tugging on the metal frame several more times. I released my hold on the bed and flexed my aching hands. Deep dents creased my palms. By tomorrow there’d likely be bruises. I dropped to the side of the bed, leaned forward, and rested my arms across my thighs. If anyone had told me a year ago that I would be scrubbing floors, washing dirty clothes for strangers, and moving beds, I would have laughed aloud.

  After resting for several minutes, I pushed to my feet. “If I don’t get busy, I’ll be here when the men return from work.” I glanced around the room. “Here I am talking to myself. If the workers pass by and hear me, they’ll think I’m demented.” I laughed aloud. If someone passed by, I wouldn’t care what they thought; I’d beg for help.

  Instead of another session pushing and pulling the bed, I stepped around to the other end to get the trunk out of the way. Using the side of my leg, I gave the trunk a shove. Once I’d moved it a few feet, I leaned sideways and realized the problem. The leg of the bed was stuck on a piece of loose floorboard. Bending down, I locked my elbows, lifted the side of the bed frame, and gave the bed a hefty shove.

  “Finally!” A whoosh of air escaped my lungs and my arms trembled from the exertion. I’d likely scratched a section of the floor, but I didn’t care. I would worry about that later. Right now, I would take a moment to enjoy what I’d accomplished.

  After pausing to take several breaths, I knelt beside the bed to examine the floor. If I’d ruined some of the boards, perhaps Nathan and Thomas could replace them. One look revealed some of the boards had recently been cut. It appeared as if someone had created a hiding space beneath the floorboards. Maybe Thomas had carved out the space to hide the notes I’d written to him.

  I should have scrubbed the floor and moved the bed back into place, but my curiosity prevailed. I was determined to discover whether anything was hidden under the boards. Unfortunately, the loose piece of wood had dropped into place when I moved the bed, and now it fit snug against the other boards. Using the tips of my fingers, I attempted to lift one of the boards, but as I tried to force the board loose, a splinter lodged deep beneath one of my fingernails. If this continued, I’d end up with nothing but pricked fingers and bruised hands.

  There had to be something I could use. I pushed to my feet and looked around the room. When I spied a pocketknife lying on the windowsill near Nathan’s bed, my heart pounded so hard I thought it would leap into my throat. Grabbing the knife, I returned to my kneeling position near Thomas’s bed and set to work. Using my thumbnail, I pulled out the short blade and pressed it into the crevice. Once the knife created enough leverage, the board began to lift and I reached for the rough edge, but the blade slipped and the board dropped back into place. I continued my efforts, but with each failed attempt, my frustration mounted.

  I sat back on my heels and stared at the floor. One more try and then I had to get back to work. If I couldn’t remove the boards today, I’d find a tool of some sort and try again tomorrow. After promising myself this would be my final attempt, I shoved the blade into place. This time I was careful to maintain the pressure of the knife against the board. As it inched up, I reached with my other hand and dug the tips of my fingers into the jagged edge and pulled. My stomach tightened into a knot as I lifted the second piece of wood and then the third.

  Scooting forward, I peered into the dark hole below. I could barely see what looked like some sort of fabric. I reached out but then retracted my hand as I recalled the traps that Mr. Ludwig used to set to catch rats at the orphanage. What if there was some sort of trap down there? A rat trap could break fingers, and how would I ever explain such a thing? It would be impossible to deny that I’d been snooping where I didn’t belong.

  Even so, I’d come too far. I had to know. My hand trembled as I reached into the opening. Using the tips of my fingers, I tugged on a corner of the coarse cloth that lay wedged near the back of the space—likely fabric used to protect whatever had been hidden. My determination swelled, and I thrust both hands into the opening and grabbed hold. I wiggled and manipulated the fabric in all directions until it finally gave way. A yelp escaped my lips as I lifted a dirty canvas bag onto the floor beside me.

  Eager to read the markings, I retrieved a handkerchief from my pocket and swiped at the dirt. Though the letters were faded and difficult to read, I gasped and dropped the bag to the floor. Stamped across the canvas in faded black letters were t
he words National Commerce Bank of Kansas City.

  My heart pounded an erratic beat.

  I should put the bag back where I’d found it. I shouldn’t look inside.

  But I couldn’t stop myself.

  Chapter 19

  The room swirled around me, and I collapsed against the side of the bed. I forced myself to breathe. Never in my life had I seen so much money. I didn’t want to believe what lay before me, and I didn’t know what to do next.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I steadied myself. Thomas said he’d been saving his wages so he could provide a home for Kathleen. Could all of this belong to him? It appeared to be far too much money for one young man to accumulate. Maybe all of the men kept their savings in the bag together, but that made no sense. If they’d all placed their money in the bag, there would be no reason to hide it, for other than Sister Margaret and me, no one else ever came into the dormitory.

  Maybe Thomas had come into a large sum of money before he came to Iowa. Or perhaps he’d worked someplace that paid exceedingly high wages, or maybe he’d been rewarded for some meritorious act. But with all this money, why hadn’t he gone in search of his sister? Why had he come to the colonies instead? He could have hired a detective to help him find Kathleen. I’d heard my father speak of the Pinkerton Detective Agency, which would assist in locating missing persons.

  Tracing my fingers over the imprinted letters, I attempted to think of some reasonable explanation for all this money, yet I could think of none. My father conducted the company’s as well as his personal banking at the National Commerce Bank, and I’d seen him carry a similar, but much smaller, bag whenever he went to the bank. Yet that didn’t explain why this large money-filled bag had been hidden beneath the floorboards of the men’s dormitory in Middle Amana.