A Simple Change

by Judith Miller

  In truth, I feared my father would step in and I’d never learn all of the circumstances surrounding Thomas or that hidden money—and I couldn’t bear that thought. I didn’t want to yield complete authority to anyone else, but I needed a confidant who could give me sound advice. Ritt seemed the perfect person. He’d been concerned about my welfare earlier in the day, so I hoped he now understood I wasn’t to blame for Nathan’s position at the mill.

  I maintained hope that Thomas and Ritt had visited a bit during their work at the mill. At a minimum, Ritt should be able to tell me exactly when Thomas had arrived here. Then I could write to Lilly and ask if she’d stop at the bank to make an inquiry regarding the date of the robbery. Of course, there was a possibility Ritt would insist upon telling the elders. I contemplated that idea. Before I told him, I’d secure a promise that he wouldn’t divulge anything I said. I wasn’t certain what I’d do if he didn’t agree.

  First, of course, I would need to tell him about meeting with Thomas and writing the letters on his behalf. A part of me wanted to avoid that topic and tell him only that I’d discovered the money hidden beneath Thomas’s bed. But Ritt was insightful. He’d ask how I knew where Thomas slept. It wasn’t as if there were names on the beds in the dormitory. And, other than Nathan, I knew nothing about the workers who lived in the men’s quarters. Ritt would think it odd that I’d know anything about Thomas. Yet the connection to Kansas City was an important part of why I suspected Thomas, so I needed to explain everything.

  Thomas had already revealed Nathan would be working late this evening, so the timing would be perfect. As we walked home, Madelyn came alongside me and grasped my hand. “Are we going to read this evening?”

  I smiled down at her and nodded. “And you should ask your brother if he would like to join us. He hasn’t listened to you read for a while. I think he will be pleased with your progress.”

  Madelyn dropped my hand and skipped a few steps. “Can we sit outside under the tree? It will be cooler than sitting in the parlor.”

  The upper floor of the house was always warmer than our downstairs rooms, but when I’d suggested Madelyn come to our parlor for her summertime lessons, Sister Hanna objected. Though I attempted to assure her otherwise, she thought the activity would disturb my mother.

  “I think that’s an excellent idea.” Plenty of daylight remained, and being outdoors would provide greater privacy when I spoke with Ritt about the money.

  While Madelyn ran upstairs to fetch her books, I went into my bedroom and gathered a quilt for us to sit on. Mother hadn’t been well enough to join us at prayer meeting, and I stepped inside her bedroom before departing. “How are you feeling?”

  “As good as I can expect.” She gestured toward the quilt. “You are going outdoors?”

  “Yes. Madelyn asked if we could go outside for her lesson this evening. Is there anything you need before I go? Father should be down in a few minutes. He was talking with Brother Werner.”

  “No, you go on. Tell Madelyn she should come and read to me some evening. It will help me fall asleep.”

  “I think she would like that, but you should tell Sister Hanna. She thinks Madelyn’s reading will disturb you.”

  Mother chuckled. “I’ll speak to her. You go on now and enjoy yourself.” She waved me off as she picked up her fork. I hoped she would eat well, even though I wouldn’t be there to prod her along. These last few days, she’d been eating less and less, and I worried she wouldn’t build her strength on so little nourishment.

  Excitement bubbled deep within my chest when I caught sight of Ritt standing alongside Madelyn and two of the other children in the backyard. Hiking her dress a few inches, Madelyn bounded toward me and reached for the quilt I carried in my arms.

  “I’ll spread it out for us to sit on.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Ritt said he wanted to hear me read.”

  I handed her the quilt. “I am pleased your brother wants to see how much you’ve progressed.”

  Madelyn spun around to face me. “I think he is more pleased to spend time with you.” She ran toward her brother before I could correct her assumption.

  My heart pounded an erratic beat as he waved to me. I hoped what Madelyn said was true. Had Ritt set aside the differences that had come between us? In my mind, there was no reason why Nathan or his job assignment at the mill should cause problems, but Ritt hadn’t been so sure.

  With the help of the other girls, Madelyn spread the quilt beneath a large elm tree and plopped down with her book. The group had formed a circle and only one opening remained. She patted the quilt as I approached. “You can sit between us.”

  I glanced at Ritt. “It might be better if you scooted over and sat between your brother and me. That way, we can both watch as you read and make certain you’re not making any mistakes.”

  “This space is gut.” Ritt tapped the same spot his sister had pointed to a moment earlier. “You are the teacher. I will close my eyes and listen.”

  I liked the idea of sitting next to him, so I didn’t argue any further. If anyone saw us, we would both receive a reprimand, but I was willing to take the chance. A chance I’d been opposed to taking with Nathan. That truth settled in the back of my mind as I took my place in the circle. I had Madelyn read last so that Ritt wouldn’t leave early. If listening while I worked with the other girls bothered him, he gave no indication. When Madelyn’s turn arrived, he made a point to close his eyes and listen.

  She made only one slight mistake while reading the lesson in English, and I praised her lavishly when she finished. “If you were in my class at the school in Kansas City, I would use my blue ink and draw a star beside your name. You did an excellent job with your lessons today.”

  Ritt smiled at his sister. “For sure, you have made great progress, Madelyn. Soon you will be able to read English better than I do.”

  I looked around the group. “All of you are wonderful students. You have worked hard to complete your reading and English lessons, but now it is time to work on your arithmetic.” I motioned to a large basket I’d placed near the tree. “Would you bring that to me, Madelyn?”

  Sister Bertha had given me permission to use a number of items from the kitchen house to help with our lesson. “Instead of repeating your addition and subtraction or going over your multiplication tables, I thought it might be more fun if we did something special.”

  Eveline stepped closer and peered into the basket. “We are going to cook?”

  Madelyn giggled. “There is no stove. How could we cook? Why did you bring these things, Sister Jancey?”

  I removed a loaf of bread that Sister Bertha had sliced for me, along with several large apples.

  “We are going to have bread and apples?” Anna asked, her eyes radiating excitement.

  “First we are going to see how many people we could serve from this loaf of bread. Each of you count and see how many sandwiches you could make from this loaf.”

  I watched as the girls carefully counted the slices. Anna’s hand shot into the air and I nodded at her. “I could make ten if I didn’t use the end pieces.”

  “I like the end pieces so I would make eleven. Besides, we shouldn’t waste,” Eveline said.

  I chuckled. “Let’s agree that we have eleven sandwiches, and we cut them in half. Then how many people will get a sandwich?”

  Madelyn caught her lower lip between her teeth and frowned. Moments later, she raised her hand. “Twenty-two.”

  “Exactly right. That’s very good. Now if we cut those eleven sandwiches into four pieces how many people could we serve at the noonday meal?”

  Bretta shook her head. “That will not work, Miss Jancey.”

  I met the girl’s intent gaze. “Why not?”

  “Everyone would still be hungry, because they wouldn’t get enough to eat.”

  Ritt burst into laughter. “She is right. What man would be happy with one-fourth of a sandwich?”

  Hands perched on her hips, Madelyn turned t
oward her brother. “A starving man would not turn down one-fourth of a sandwich.”

  “Ja, you have an answer for everything, Madelyn.” Ritt grinned at the girl and tousled her hair. “But this time, I will agree that you are right. A starving man would be happy for even a crust of bread.”

  After cutting the apples into slices, we continued to work on math skills. “I like subtraction the most,” Anna said.

  I chuckled and nodded. All of the girls wanted to practice subtraction when they realized they would be permitted to eat slices of apple or squares of bread. By the time they’d eaten the apples and some of the bread, I declared their skills improved and the lesson complete, but the girls decided they wanted to study spelling words.

  “We’re going to move over by the back steps, where the light is better.” Madelyn picked up her books and gestured to the other girls.

  I started to get up, but Madelyn shook her head. “You can stay here. If we have a question, we’ll come and ask.”

  I agreed, certain the girls wanted a little time to share some secrets while they studied. Books in hand, they hurried away before I could change my mind.

  “You are a gut teacher, Jancey,” Ritt told me. “You are patient and kind, and that makes them want to please you. You have a special gift with children. I see how you help each one in a special way.”

  Ritt’s words warmed my heart. “Each child has the ability to learn, and I try to remember that every child is unique. They learn in different ways. What works with one might not work with another. A good teacher keeps trying different keys until she finds the right one for each child.” I turned my hand as if unlocking a door. “Once you find the right key, it opens a whole new world to them. You can see the excitement in their eyes, and when that happens, it thrills me.”

  Ritt pulled several blades of grass and twisted them between his fingers. “It is easy to hear excitement in your voice when you talk about teaching. I am sure you miss being at the school in Kansas City.”

  He held me with his gaze as the setting sun cast a gold glint in his hazel eyes. I swallowed hard and tried to look away, but I couldn’t. A pleasant feeling tickled alive deep within my stomach, and I tried to concentrate on what Ritt had said.

  “You’re right. I do miss the children. Don’t misunderstand. I very much enjoy being in the colonies, but teaching gives me a feeling of purpose. I have that same feeling when I’m teaching Madelyn and her friends.”

  He looked down at the blades of grass he held between his thumb and forefinger. When he didn’t comment, I told him I’d received letters from some of the children at the orphanage. “I know it may sound silly, but reading their letters makes me feel closer to them.”

  “Nein. It is not silly. I can understand how it would help to ease the pain of leaving them. I am sure everyone at the orphanage misses you.”

  “There is a shortage of money, so they haven’t hired anyone to replace me. Miss Manchester—she teaches the older students—wrote and said the younger children are falling behind.” I sighed. “I do wish the board of directors would see how important it is to have a teacher for the younger children. You can’t have so many children in one classroom and expect any of them to learn, but they say there isn’t sufficient money.”

  Ritt frowned. “This I do not understand. They should have the funds you received when you worked there. Why could they not use that money to pay a new teacher?”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t receive any pay.”

  He tipped his head to the side. “I thought everyone who lived outside the colonies received pay for their work.”

  “I knew the orphanage had financial problems. My father suggested I work without pay since he could easily support our family. I considered my work an offering to the Lord—and the children.”

  “So at least one thing did not change for you when you moved to Middle Amana: You still receive no money for your work.” He leaned back against the tree trunk and bent his knees until they almost touched his chest. “You have given up a great deal to be here among us. I saw the light in your eyes when you spoke of teaching at the orphanage, and I saw sadness replace that light when you told me the children are not learning so well now that you are gone.”

  “I won’t deny that I miss teaching the children or that I am sad they no longer have the attention they need, but I am thankful for the opportunity to help Madelyn and some of the other Amana children during the evenings.”

  The glimmer I’d detected earlier in his eyes faded. “Ja, but it is not the same, is it?”

  “Not exactly, but I want to be here. I couldn’t bear to be away from my mother when she needs me. I made a choice to come here, Ritt, and I’m not sorry. Is that what you think? That I’m unhappy to be here?”

  I needed to make him understand that I hadn’t come here because I’d been forced to, or because I’d felt obligated. I wanted him to know that I came because I wanted to be here. I thought I’d made it clear before, but maybe when Nathan arrived, Ritt decided I hadn’t been honest with him.

  He tossed the pieces of grass aside and looked at me. “I want to tell you what is in my heart so there are no walls between us.”

  My heart skipped a beat and I bobbed my head, eager to hear him say he cared for me and was thankful I’d come here. “I would like that.”

  “I do not think it is a secret that I have come to care for you as more than a friend, but I have decided that I must put a guard on my heart.”

  My spirits soared but then plummeted so quickly that my stomach felt as though it had landed in my throat. “W-why?”

  “I can see that you still have strong ties to your former life.” When I opened my mouth to object, he placed a finger on my lips. “Let me finish and then you can speak. Ja?”

  I didn’t want to agree. I wanted to shout the objection that remained on my tongue, but I merely gave a slight nod.

  “I cannot risk my heart when I am uncertain if you can ever be happy in Amana.” He traced his finger along the stitches that formed a flower in the quilt. “And I could never ask you to give up teaching. If you remain here, you will never be able to go into a classroom and teach as you did in Kansas City. It is clear you are a gut teacher, and I believe you want to use the talents God has given you.”

  A sense of panic now assailed me. How would we ever know if we were meant for each other if he planned to distance himself from me? I needed to convince him he was wrong. “I may never be able to teach in a classroom again, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help some children in my spare time. I’ve been content since coming here, and I don’t believe that will change.”

  Tenderness shone in his eyes as he looked at me. “I don’t know if you can be completely honest with yourself right now. Your mother is ill and you want to be here to help care for her. But if the time arrives when you are no longer tied to the colonies by your mother’s illness, you may want to return to the orphanage.” He placed his hand over his heart. “Your heart may always be with those children. I can see how much you love them and what happiness they bring to you. Later, you may decide you cannot find that same happiness or contentment here. It is better if we remain only friends. To do otherwise could cause great pain for both of us.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I should go and check on the girls.”

  Pushing to my feet, I wondered how everything had gone so wrong so quickly. I had hoped Ritt wanted to mend any differences between us and move forward. I had hoped to explain that I never made a commitment to Nathan. And I had hoped to talk to him about Thomas and the hidden money. But none of those discussions would happen now.

  The girls had finished their studies and were chattering about the onion harvest when I approached. “It’s getting dark. I think it’s time for you girls to walk home and for Madelyn and me to go inside.”

  The girls folded their papers, gathered their books, and scurried off with hasty good-byes. I turned and walked toward the front of the house while Madelyn chattered
. I stopped short and glanced over my shoulder when Ritt called my name.

  He was holding the folded quilt in his arms. “You forgot your quilt.”

  His hand brushed against mine when he passed me the quilt, and a shiver raced up my arm. How I longed to tell him he was wrong—that I could remain here if he would only declare his love for me and ask me to stay. But a look of determination shone in his eyes. I realized that nothing I said would change his mind—at least not tonight.

  Chapter 21

  Tears threatened as I bid Ritt and Madelyn a quick farewell. I turned and hurried inside, for I didn’t want Madelyn to suspect anything was amiss. As I entered the front door, my father called to me from the bedroom. When I opened the door, he motioned toward my mother.

  “Your mother has a terrible headache. She needs medicine from the apothecary. If you ring the bell near the front door, Brother Otto will come and help you. He knows what to mix for her. Brother Rudolf has given him the information.”

  I glanced out the window at the darkening sky. I didn’t fear walking alone after dark, but it wasn’t the custom for women to walk alone at night in the colonies.

  “I would go, but your mother doesn’t want me to leave her.” He lowered his voice. “You’ll be fine. If anyone asks why you’re out, explain the situation and there will be no problem.” His brow furrowed. “Is anything wrong?”

  I forced a smile. “No. Why do you ask?”

  He gave a slight shrug. “You appeared sad when you came to the door.”

  “Everything is fine. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I turned and hurried away before he could quiz me further.

  My shoes clattered on the wooden sidewalk, and my thoughts immediately returned to the recent conversation with Ritt. I didn’t want to believe he was right, but maybe there was some truth to what he’d said. Maybe I wouldn’t remain happy in the colonies. I knew Ritt hadn’t wanted to speak of my mother’s health, but what he was thinking had been obvious. Would I be willing to live here for the rest of my life? I’d thought I would, but now I wondered if he might be correct. Would I be content if I never was able to teach in a classroom again?