A Simple Change

by Judith Miller

  Maybe this money didn’t belong to Thomas. The bag had been hidden under his bed and was from a Kansas City bank. And Thomas had lived in Kansas City, but that didn’t mean it belonged to him. Someone else could have hidden it beneath his bed. While seeking a hiding place, maybe one of the other men discovered a loose board beneath Thomas’s bed and then enlarged the space. Although unlikely, there was a remote possibility the money had been there for quite some time. Father always told me it wasn’t wise to pass judgment without all of the facts.

  As the noonday bell tolled in the distance, I jerked to attention. What if one of the men should return to the dormitory to pick up something on his way to the kitchen house? A shudder rocketed down the length of my body. I captured my lower lip between my teeth to stop the trembling. There wasn’t time for fear. I needed to keep my wits about me.

  In my haste, I dropped the bag and a quantity of bills and coins scattered across my lap and onto the floor in front of me. Among the bills, I noticed a ragged piece of folded newspaper and shoved it into my pocket. There wasn’t time to look at it now, but I’d read it after lunch and return it to the hiding place later this afternoon. I thrust the bag back into the hole, pushed the floorboards in place, and heaved the bed into position. I exhaled a breath and clasped a hand to my chest.

  If I ran, I might make it to the Küche before the second bell rang. There was no one in sight on the path, and I picked up my pace. It wouldn’t do to enter the dining hall while Brother Herman was offering the mealtime prayer. Perspiration trickled down the sides of my face, and my hair felt damp beneath my bonnet. When the second bell tolled, I rounded the Küche and dropped into line beside one of the older sisters. I was still panting when she turned to look at me.

  She gently patted my face with her palm. “Your cheeks are red as cherries. If you leave work when the first bell rings, you will not need to run.”

  “You’re right, Sister. I’ll try to remember.”

  She smiled and nodded as we began to move toward the door. My breath caught when I saw Nathan walking up the steps. He’d lived in Kansas City and he slept in the bed next to Thomas. Could Nathan somehow be the one who’d hidden the bag? But that idea made no sense. If Nathan had all that money, he would have offered to purchase my father’s business. Wouldn’t he?

  My stomach churned like water being tossed about by a paddlewheel. I swallowed a bite of fried potatoes and instantly realized I’d made a mistake. If I ate anything more, I’d be sick for sure. My plate remained full when we stood for the after-dinner prayer. Brother Herman had barely said amen when the old sister who’d admonished me for running now frowned and pointed to my plate.

  “You could not eat because running upsets the stomach.” She patted her hand against her midsection. “This afternoon you will be hungry.” She forked the piece of ham from my plate and placed it between two thick slices of bread. “Wrap this in your napkin and take it with you.”

  I folded my napkin around the sandwich and thanked her before I departed. Several of the outsiders had gathered beneath a small grove of trees a short distance from the Küche. Both Nathan and Thomas were among the group, while Ritt stood a short distance away talking to several other men. Although I didn’t expect Ritt or Thomas to acknowledge me, I wasn’t so sure about Nathan. Whenever Ritt was around, Nathan tended to stay as close to me as a jealous child. I headed toward the shortcut hoping for a private moment to examine the paper I’d placed in my pocket.

  When I neared the end of the path, I sat down on a nearby stump and withdrew the piece of newspaper from my pocket. I gasped at the caption above the article. Two Bank Robbers Apprehended. Third Still on the Run. The article stated that two men who robbed the National Commerce Bank of Kansas City had been incarcerated in the Kansas City jail and were currently awaiting trial. In the next paragraph, the article advised that a third man remained at large and was believed to be in possession of a portion of the stolen money. Near the end, the journalist wrote that he’d interrogated one of the criminals, Mr. Allen Dempsey, who’d declared the stolen funds had been equally divided among the three bank robbers before they’d split up and gone off in separate directions. The article went on to say that Mr. Dempsey had been unwilling to reveal the name and possible whereabouts of the third accomplice, but there was hope he might change his mind as the time for his trial drew near.

  My heart thudded to a halt. Could Thomas somehow be involved in this robbery? If so, it made sense that he hadn’t remained in Kansas to look for his sister. He’d want to hide out until he thought it would be safe to return. And what better place to hide than in the colonies? Who would think to look for him here?

  I shook my head. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Perhaps this was simply a clipping he saved because he had an interest in the case. I didn’t even know how long ago this bank robbery had occurred. For all I knew, Thomas could have been a boy when it happened.

  I turned over the piece of newspaper, but the only thing on the reverse side was an advertisement for St. Jacob’s Oil, a potion that promised a cure for everything from rheumatism to frosty feet. I wished I had some of that concoction right now. Maybe a little St. Jacob’s Oil would cure the disappointment I felt when I hadn’t been able to find the date of the newspaper’s publication anywhere on the clipping.

  I tucked the paper into my pocket and tried to recall any talk of a bank robbery before we’d left Kansas City. Nothing came to mind, but I could have easily overlooked such an article. Father may have mentioned something, but if he had, I’d forgotten.

  The bell rang and I sauntered toward the men’s quarters while trying to remember if Thomas had told me when he’d first arrived in Middle Amana. I didn’t want to falsely accuse him, but the possibility of Thomas Kingman being a bank robber kept filling my thoughts. A ripple of fear shot through me as I recalled meeting him alone in the woods. I closed my eyes and tried to picture him that day. He certainly hadn’t acted like the sort who would rob a bank or do harm to anyone, but looks could be deceiving, couldn’t they?

  I entered the dormitory and glanced around. The realization that money that might have been stolen from a bank was hidden in this room caused my palms to turn damp. The few bites of fried potatoes rumbled in my stomach, and I thought I might be sick. I needed to make a decision. Earlier I had planned to return the newspaper article to the money bag, but now I wondered if that was a good idea. If I talked to the elders, it would be helpful to have the clipping in my possession to substantiate such an unbelievable story, and I doubted Thomas would remove the bag until he decided to leave the colonies. Besides, the idea of once again removing those floorboards made me as nervous as a cat stuck in a tree.

  I patted my pocket and leaned back in the chair, but moments later startled to attention. I’d made my first decision without God’s direction. Would I never learn to wait upon Him? I bowed and prayed for the Lord to direct me, determined I would remain silent about my discovery until I felt the Lord prompt me to do otherwise.

  When the midafternoon bell rang, I was outside scrubbing the small porch and wooden sidewalk in front of the men’s quarters. This wasn’t one of my favorite chores, but today I didn’t mind. There was little breeze, and being outside swishing water over the sidewalk was preferable to enduring the stifling heat inside the dormitory.

  “Jancey!” I turned around to see Nathan marching toward me.

  He pointed to the bucket of water. “How can you belittle yourself like this? You shouldn’t be scrubbing sidewalks. I can’t believe you’re willing to submit yourself to this way of life.” He lifted his hand toward my face. “You’re overheated and shouldn’t be working in this hot sun.”

  I took a backward step before he could touch my face. “There are others watching, Nathan. You can’t touch me in such a manner—not in public or private. I’ve told you over and over that it’s not permitted.”

  His jaw tightened. “And I’ve told you that I don’t like these rules. They’re foolish. This is n
o way for people like us to live.”

  I arched my brows. “People like us? What kind of people are we, Nathan? Tell me how I am different from the women who live here. For that matter, how are you different from these men? We’re all alike in God’s eyes—created equally.”

  He thrust his chin forward. “You know what I’m saying, Jancey. We are different. You’re playing word games with me. This is not the life you lived in Kansas City. You never scrubbed floors or washed sheets.” In one swift motion, he reached forward and grabbed my wrist. “Look at your hands! They were once soft to the touch. Now they’re rough and discolored, and your nails are chipped and dirty.”

  His harsh comments wounded me. “My hands have been in scrub water cleaning up after you and the other men who live here. This is the middle of the workday. Are your hands perfectly clean?”

  My anger had risen and so had my voice. I hadn’t intended to arouse attention and was surprised to see Ritt walking toward us at a brisk pace.

  “Hallöchen!” Ritt waved in our direction as he drew near. He stopped beside Nathan, but his eyes were focused on me. “There is a problem?”

  Nathan glowered at him. “Why do you think there’s a problem? We were trying to have a conversation until you interrupted us.”

  “I am thinking there is a problem because I could hear angry voices when I started toward the path.” Ritt’s focus remained fixed on me. “You are all right?”

  “Of course she’s all right. You can see her, can’t you?”

  Ritt’s shoulders stiffened. “I was asking Sister Jancey.”

  “I’m fine, but thank you for your concern.” This was the first time Ritt had spoken to me since we’d argued about Nathan, and my chest warmed at the genuine worry that shone in his eyes. But while I was pleased Ritt no longer appeared to be ignoring me, having Nathan involved would likely make matters worse between the three of us.

  “She doesn’t need protection from me.” Nathan clenched his hands and glared at Ritt.

  “That is gut to know.” Ritt nodded toward the path. “We are expected at the Küche for a snack. Unless you want to make Brother William unhappy, I think you should come with me. We are already late.”

  I nodded my agreement. “You should go, Nathan. You need to follow the rules if you are going to live here.”

  “Rules! That’s all people think about around here.” Using his shirt sleeve, Nathan wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

  “If you are unhappy with the way we live, you are not required to remain in the colonies. No one is forced to live here.” Ritt glanced at me. “Anyone who decides this life is not what they want is free to leave and make a new life elsewhere.”

  Nathan curled his lip. “Well, I can tell you this isn’t the life I want for Jancey—or for myself, either.”

  Ritt hiked a shoulder. “For yourself you can speak, but not for anyone else. Sister Jancey has the right to decide whether her future will be in the colonies or elsewhere.” He stepped toward the path. “We must go to the Küche. If you and Sister Jancey want to talk, you should do it after working hours.”

  “Don’t you see how foolish this is? Why should I need to talk to you tonight instead of right now?” Nathan stared at me.

  “Because I have work that requires my attention.” I leaned down to pick up the bucket, walked inside, and closed the door. I waited several minutes before I peeked out the window. When I was certain the two men had departed, I opened the door, thankful to once again gain a slight breeze.

  Instead of setting to work, I dropped to one of the wooden chairs that surrounded the table where the men played cards and tried to steady my nerves. Discovery of the money bag had created a whirl of emotions, and the heated exchange between Nathan and Ritt further intensified my turmoil. This first day without Margaret wasn’t yet over, and it had already proved more chaotic than I could have imagined.

  I placed my folded arms atop the table and rested my head. Why hadn’t I left those boards in place? If I hadn’t been snooping where I didn’t belong, I wouldn’t be faced with this dilemma. Should I tell someone? Father? The elders? Ritt? Should I pretend none of it had ever happened? Should I attempt to discover more about Thomas on my own? After all, I couldn’t be absolutely certain the money belonged to him, and I didn’t want to bear false witness. The newspaper article was proof of a bank robbery and the fact that one of the robbers remained at large, but it wasn’t proof that Thomas was that missing criminal. Everything pointed to him. But would a bank robber be the kind of man who wanted to locate his sister and build a new life? How I longed to feel some nudging from the Lord—some indication of what I should do.

  I needed to wait upon Him, for if I had prayed before I’d gone digging beneath the floorboards, I might not be in this situation. If I’d remember to wait before making decisions and then expecting God to get me out of trouble, I’d be much better off.

  Some time ago, I’d spoken to Brother William about my occasional failures.

  “None of us ever reach perfection, Sister Jancey,” he’d said, “but we must strive to remain in constant communion with God. That way, it becomes second nature to ask for His help when a problem comes our way.” His eyes had radiated kindness. “It is pleasing to the Lord that you are trying to do your best and draw closer to Him. You will learn. I will be praying for you.”

  I was certain Brother William had prayed for me every day since we’d had our talk, and though I sometimes remembered to first go to God with my problems, I still hadn’t mastered the knack of remaining in constant communion with Him.

  “You sick or sleeping?”

  I jerked upright, my heart pounding faster than a woodpecker hammering on a tree. I hadn’t heard footsteps. “Thomas! What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at work?” I glanced at the clock. I must have fallen asleep.

  His lips curved in a lopsided grin. “You don’t need to worry. I won’t tell anyone you were sleeping on the job.” Using his thumb, he pointed over his shoulder. “I got off early, so you don’t need to worry about none of the other fellows coming back just yet.” He dropped to a chair on the other side of the table. “Brother William has that fellow of yours moving around the mill to learn all the positions. Looks like he’s gonna make Nathan a supervisor. Anyway, he’s working in my area and I was in the way, so they said I could leave. Guess they thought you’d be done with your work over here.”

  Confusion blurred my mind. “I am. I mean, I shouldn’t be in here with you. There’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. I doubt the men will notice if there’s a little dust on the windowsills.” I jumped to my feet.

  His gaze settled on my shaking hands. “There’s no reason to be afraid of me, Miss Jancey. It’s not like we don’t know each other.” He leaned across the table. “I been wondering if you got that other letter sent off to your friend at the orphanage.”

  My throat constricted as if a rope had been tightened around my neck. I croaked an affirmative response and massaged my neck.

  Thomas pushed away from the table and pointed to the water pitcher. “Want some water? I’ll be glad to get you a cup if you don’t mind drinking after us men.” He tipped his head to the side. “We don’t worry ’bout unwashed cups.”

  I knew that much was true. The only time the cups were replaced was when Margaret or I carried the dirty ones to the Küche and returned with clean ones.

  I swallowed and shook my head. “I’ll be fine.” I was pleasantly surprised when my voice sounded normal.

  He settled back in the chair. “So how soon do you think you’ll hear? I sure do wish I could find out something before much longer.”

  “I don’t have any idea. Much will depend on the family with whom Kathleen is living, but as soon as I hear anything, I’ll leave a note.” I pushed away from the table. “I really should go home and check on my mother.” I hesitated a moment. “When did you arrive in Middle Amana, Thomas?”

  He scratched his head and looked toward the ceiling. �
�I don’t rightly remember. Sometime this past winter.”

  I nodded. I’d felt a prompting to inquire, but I didn’t know if it was my own curiosity or an urging from the Lord. I was uncertain how a person could know for sure, but I decided to continue with my questions.

  “Had you ever worked here before? I’ve heard that some of the workers come and go, depending on the season.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “No. Why’d you ask?”

  I fumbled with the corner of my apron. “Just curious. Back when we first met, you asked me about why I’d come here and I wondered the same about you. Seems there would have been better paying jobs in Kansas City.”

  “Seems you been thinkin’ about me quite a bit, Miss Jancey. Not sure if I should be flattered or concerned.” Using his right hand, he pushed his chair back until it balanced on the two back legs and looked straight into my eyes. “I was in and out of Kansas City, depending on work. Living here’s as good a place as any.”

  “But it’s a long way from Kansas City.”

  “No place is too far if there’s train tracks, Miss Jancey.” He pinned me with an unyielding stare and let the chair drop with a loud bang.

  I jumped as though I’d been shot.

  He’d made his point. Thomas Kingman had called a halt to my question-and-answer session.

  Chapter 20

  During prayer meeting that evening, I contemplated whether it had been the Lord nudging me to ask Thomas questions about his background or my own desire to discover the truth. I had a feeling it was the latter, but as we prepared to depart, I felt a distinct urge to confide in Ritt. I wasn’t certain how the elders might react if I approached them with my findings—they might decide I wasn’t the type of person they wanted living in the colonies. And I didn’t want to tell my father. He had enough worries with Mother’s ever-changing health; at least that’s what I told myself.