I pulled the shirt out of the basket and lifted it to the ironing board. I can’t say that Sister Margaret was pleased with my finished product, but when I asked to try another, she didn’t argue. Instead, she set up a second board and ironed my first attempt again. My second and third shirts weren’t much better than the first, but I had improved enough that Sister Margaret had ceased starting over on the ones I had just pressed.
By the time the noonday bell rang, we’d finished the last of the shirts, and as we carried them back inside, Sister Margaret lauded my efforts. “I did not think ironing was your gift, but you have proved me wrong. Soon you will be ironing as gut as any Amana woman.” She beamed at me. “Next week I will let you help me again so you can practice some more.”
I hadn’t planned to make ironing a part of my weekly routine, but I didn’t offer any objection. If Margaret wanted my help in the future, it was the least I could do.
After Margaret left, I watched at a distance as the men departed the woolen mill. If I could walk close to Ritt or Nathan, Thomas wouldn’t approach me. Moments later, I saw Thomas take to the path, and I stepped from the doorway. When I saw Ritt, I hurried to close the distance between us. Earlier I’d considered waiting until all of the men were out of sight, but then I worried Thomas might be waiting for me along the way. Better to avoid taking chances.
Ritt smiled as I approached. “You had a gut morning?”
“No, I mean yes. I mean, I suppose it was fine.”
I longed to confide in him, but if I explained everything, we’d be late for lunch. Unless I had time to detail how I’d first seen Kathleen’s picture and the meetings with Thomas, he’d never understand all that had occurred.
His smile faded and his eyebrows dipped low on his forehead. “You are worried about something. I can see it in your eyes.”
I glanced around to see if Nathan or Thomas might be nearby. “No, there’s nothing.” I forced a smile. “I learned to iron this morning.”
“Ach! So that’s what’s worrying you. Ironing shirts that meet Sister Margaret’s high standards would make for a difficult morning, for sure.” He grinned. “Brother John tells me that no one can iron a shirt as well as Sister Margaret.”
“Brother John is right. She doesn’t leave an unwanted wrinkle in anything that comes off her ironing board. I’ll have to iron a lot more shirts before I can ever iron as well as she does.”
We were nearing the doors to the Küche, and I broke off to go to the women’s door, relieved that I’d been able to stave off any further questions about my uneasy behavior. I hadn’t yet entered when Sister Hanna hurried down the steps and waved to me. I ran toward her, fear taking hold when I saw the dread in her eyes.
“Your Mutter is worse and you need to go back to the house. Your Vater is there, but he asked me to send you home.”
My stomach tightened in a knot. “Has he called Brother Rudolf?”
“Ja, the doctor is there, but you should go.”
As I ran for home, I didn’t know if the drumming in my ears was caused by my hammering heart or my pounding shoes, but the sound made me run all the faster. I could barely breathe by the time I’d arrived home. Once inside, I leaned against the door and panted for air. I could hear muffled voices coming from the bedroom, and I strained forward. A part of me wanted to know what was being said, yet another part didn’t want to hear, especially if it was bad news.
“Jancey? Is that you?” My father’s voice drifted from the open door, and I inhaled a deep breath.
“Yes. Should I come into the bedroom?” If the doctor was in the midst of examining my mother, I didn’t want to intrude.
My father appeared in the doorway and waved me forward. “Your mother will feel better if you are in the room with her.” Instead of doing his bidding, I gestured for him to come into the parlor. He crossed the room in long strides. “What is it?”
“What has the doctor told you? How bad is she?”
“He says he can’t be sure. Each time she has one of these episodes, she becomes more fragile. She is very weak right now.”
“Does he think . . . ?” I let the question hang in the air. My father knew what I was asking without me saying the actual words.
Before he could look away, I saw tears begin to gather in his eyes. “He says he can’t say for sure. If she makes it through the night, her chances will be greatly improved. He wants one of us to stay with her at all times. If you can stay here during the remainder of the afternoon, I’ll take over after work.”
“Yes, of course.” I heard the doctor say something to my mother, and I glanced toward the bedroom. “Do you think Sister Hanna will send someone to tell Sister Margaret I won’t be back to work this afternoon?”
“I’ll stop to make sure she knows. Why don’t you go in and speak to the doctor so he can give you instructions about the medicine.” He hesitated. “I won’t go back to work if you don’t feel comfortable being here alone.”
This wouldn’t be the first time I’d been alone with Mother when she took a turn for the worse. That had been a benefit of teaching without pay: I’d never felt guilty when I needed to remain at home to nurse Mother. The village men were in the midst of raising a large new barn, and Father had been pleased when he’d been placed in charge of the project. I worried when I wasn’t by Mother’s side, but Father dealt with her illness more easily if he remained busy.
“You go on, Father. We’ll be fine.”
He pushed down on the heavy metal door latch and pulled open the door. “I’ll leave early if work is progressing well.” He turned and kissed my cheek before he departed.
When I entered the bedroom, the doctor looked up and greeted me. He touched my mother’s hand. “Look who has arrived, Sister Almina. Jancey has come home to sit with you.” He waved me toward the empty chair on the other side of the bed. The room was warm and smelled of medicine and illness. Beads of perspiration lined my mother’s forehead, and I leaned over her to remove the quilt.
She touched my hand. “Don’t take it; I’m cold.” Her words trembled with frailness and I glanced at the doctor.
“She’s having chills. I’ve given her medicine to help with the fever. Once her fever is reduced, the chills will cease.”
My chest tightened as he told me how to mix the medicines and when each one should be given. With each downward turn of her health, the doctor added another medicine or ordered the prescriptions be given more frequently. I was thankful Brother Rudolf had written the instructions on a sheet of paper, for I doubted whether I could remember the exact time and amount for each one.
The doctor stood and patted my shoulder. “She’s stronger than she appears.”
His words gave me hope, and for that I was thankful.
I had drifted off while sitting in the chair and startled awake when the front door opened. Immediately, I looked at Mother and was pleased to see she had fallen into a restful sleep—likely the work of the laudanum I’d given her an hour ago. Her fever had broken and the chills had ceased by midafternoon, but the head and body aches had persisted, so I’d followed the doctor’s instructions and given her the medicine.
I unfolded my legs from beneath me and stood. My legs and back throbbed and I stretched to release the soreness. I was massaging my lower back with my right palm when my father appeared in the doorway. I touched my index finger to my lips, and he retreated.
“I’m pleased to see she is resting.” He kept his voice low. “The fever?”
“It broke midafternoon. I gave her some medicine, and she’s been asleep for over an hour. I pray the doctor was right that when she wakes up, she will feel much better.”
“That is my prayer, as well, but we must remember that your mother’s health is in God’s hands.”
Although I’d wanted to hear my father say he was sure she’d be fine by this evening, I knew he was right. If my mother completely recovered from her illness, it wouldn’t be due to doctors or medicine. Only God could restore her to
full health.
At the first clang of the dinner bell, my stomach growled a loud protest. In the excitement of returning home to care for Mother, I had missed the noonday meal.
My father grinned at the rumbling noise. “You go to supper and ask Sister Bertha if you may bring supper home to me. If there is soup or broth, you should bring some. I hope your mother will be a little hungry when she awakens.”
“I would be happy to wait while you go. . . .”
Father shook his head. “I think you need food more than I do. Besides, I want to stay here.” He reached into his pocket and winked. “I stopped for the mail. There was a letter from Miss Manchester.”
I perched on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” The letter from Lilly was the second good thing that had happened today. I considered putting it into my pocket and waiting to read the contents until I returned home, but curiosity got the best of me. I slid my finger beneath the seal and withdrew the letter as I walked to the Küche.
There were several pages, so I scanned the letter until I caught sight of Thomas’s name on the last page.
Mr. and Mrs. Morgan, Kathleen’s adoptive parents, are willing to have Thomas come for a visit with his sister. If Kathleen decides she wants to leave and make her home with Thomas, they will not stop her. They believe she is old enough to make the best decision as to where she will be most content.
The address of the farm outside of Salina was included, along with detailed directions. Below the address, Lilly had written another brief paragraph.
The Morgans will not tell Kathleen about any of this until they are certain Thomas is going to come to Kansas. They do not want Kathleen to be disappointed if he should change his mind. They ask that Thomas write or send a telegram detailing when they should expect him to arrive. Once they have received word from him, they will tell Kathleen her brother plans to visit.
After returning the folded letter to the envelope, I placed it inside my skirt pocket. I would read the rest later when I could savor the contents. While tucking it deep within, my fingers touched the note Thomas had recently left for me near his bedside. While I’d sat in the bedroom caring for my mother, all thoughts of the accusatory note had vanished from my mind, but now my earlier fears returned with a vengeance. Did Thomas truly believe I had taken that money? And if he did, how would I ever convince him otherwise? His curt note hadn’t reflected the kind and gentle Thomas I’d first met near the pond. If he’d stolen the money, what prevented him from trying to use force to retrieve it? Then again, maybe he’d had only a minute to scribble the note before leaving for work, or maybe he’d been interrupted. Either of those reasons might have caused him to be abrupt. I hoped that might be the case, for I didn’t want to believe Thomas was any less than the man I’d first met.
“Jancey!”
I shaded my eyes against the sun as Nathan came running toward me.
“How is your mother? Is she any worse?”
“She seemed a little better when I left the house. Her fever broke and that’s a good sign.”
Though I hoped it was my imagination, I thought he appeared disappointed by my answer. “Ritt asked some of the men at the woolen mill to pray for her. He said his mother told him your mother was very ill and the doctor was worried she might not make it through the night.” He pushed his hat to the back of his head. “So you think she’s going to recover?” Once again, I thought I detected regret in his voice.
“That is my hope. You sound unhappy to hear she is doing better.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want anything to happen to her, Jancey, but I do want you to be free to begin your own life with me in Kansas City. I don’t mean to sound unsympathetic, but I know you won’t leave until—”
My mind whirred. How could he be so callous? I held up my hand. “You shouldn’t say anything more, Nathan. If you do, there is a strong possibility I may never want to see you again.”
Jutting his chin, he met my gaze. “You’re the one who says people should be honest. I’m trying to be truthful about how I feel. That’s all.” He thrust his hands into his pockets. “But I’ll take your advice. I won’t say another word.”
As we drew near the Küche, Nathan offered a quick apology. I wanted to believe his words were heartfelt, but when he attempted to justify his earlier thoughtless comments, I had lingering doubts that he’d really transformed.
Nathan’s own interests still remained at the forefront of his thoughts, and deep down I feared it would always be so.
Chapter 25
During the days following my mother’s latest bout of illness, Ritt stopped by our apartment several times. He carried meals to us when Sister Hanna was busy at the Küche. He even stayed to pray with me and offer words of comfort. Throughout those days, he showered me with compassion and kindness that provided water for my thirsty soul. But now that Mother’s health had improved and life had returned to a normal routine, he again withdrew.
Though I hoped he would continue to visit or would appear during Madelyn’s lessons, he remained at a distance. There was no doubt he was a man of his word: He would be my friend, but nothing more. At least not until I made a decision about where I would spend my future. And though I couldn’t fault him for remaining true to his word, I longed to have him spend more time with me.
If he’d give me an opportunity, I would tell him about my meeting with Thomas, the bank robbery, the money I’d found that had now disappeared, and the accusatory note that I’d received from Thomas. While Mother lay ill, I’d set aside thoughts of Thomas and the money, but now that the time had arrived when I must return to work, I needed advice from someone other than Nathan. Someone who understood how such a situation should be handled in the colonies.
A nervous giggle escaped my lips. How many times had wads of money been found under the floorboards of the men’s dormitory? I doubted there was any precedent for such an incident. Yet in the past, other difficult problems must have arisen that required inventive solutions. Surely Ritt could draw upon those incidents to give me a general idea of how this might be resolved. But explaining my dilemma to him wasn’t going to happen unless I could get him alone long enough to have a detailed conversation. And that didn’t seem likely.
I hadn’t been out of the house enough to worry over an answer to Thomas’s note, and I wondered if he’d left any additional messages during my absence—ones that Margaret might have discovered while dusting. I could only hope that Thomas had heard my mother was ill and I was helping care for her.
“Sister Jancey! It is gut to see you. While you were gone, Ritt gave John and me daily reports on your Mutter’s health. I am so happy our prayers have been answered and she is doing better.”
I was taken aback when Margaret rushed forward and wrapped me in a warm embrace. Never before had she been so demonstrative.
“I know this has been a difficult time for you.” After several pats on my shoulder, she released her hold and took a backward step. “You look tired. Did you sleep well last night?”
I hadn’t slept well, mostly because I’d worried about seeing Thomas this morning, a fact I couldn’t share with Margaret. “Not as well as usual, but I’ll be fine. I’m glad to see you. Everything is going fine with John?”
Her lips curved in a shy smile. “Ja. He is going to ask permission for us to marry, but he will wait until the orders have slowed down at the mill. If he asks now, he’s afraid the elders might decide to send me to another village, and he doesn’t want me to be separated from my family. Once they catch up on work at the mill, they are more likely to send him to work at the woolen mill in Main.”
“He’s most considerate. I’m very happy for you, Margaret.”
She bobbed her head. “Ja, I didn’t think any man would ever take notice of me. For a long time, I prayed Ritt would one day look in my direction, but now I’m glad he didn’t show any interest. John is the right man for me. We are gut together. You understand?”
“Yes. I’ve notice
d how happy the two of you are when you’re together.” I gestured to the other room. “I should begin my work.”
“Ach! I almost forgot. The day your mother took ill and you had to go home, that outsider . . . what is his name?” She stared heavenward and massaged the side of her head. “The one who has the bed next to Nathan.” She strolled toward the sleeping room and stared at the row of beds.
“Thomas Kingman?” Though I wasn’t supposed to be familiar with the outsiders, Margaret would likely assume Nathan had mentioned Thomas’s name to me.
She bobbed her head. “Ja, Thomas Kingman, that is it.”
“What about him?” I tried to hide my impatience, but Margaret’s revelation worried me.
“He stopped by and I am sure he was looking for you.”
I arched my brows and tried to appear surprised. “For me? Why? Did he ask for me by name?”
“Nein. He doesn’t speak much German, so I didn’t understand, but I think he wanted to know if you were coming back to clean the room.”
I hiked my shoulders in an exaggerated shrug and forced a grin. “Maybe he was afraid he’d have to make his own bed if I didn’t return.”
“Ja, I have never seen that happen in this place.” She motioned toward the rear door. “I will be in the washhouse if you need me.”
While caring for Mother, I’d lost track of the days. It didn’t seem possible washday had already arrived. It seemed like only yesterday that Sister Margaret was giving me ironing lessons. Now here I was all alone in the dormitory again, and today I couldn’t hide in the washhouse. Tomorrow while she ironed, I might be able to join her again, but not now, not when I needed to be cleaning and stripping beds.
My gaze remained fixed on the trunk beside Thomas’s bed as I strode to the far end of the room. Was he expecting a note from me when I returned? I stopped beside his bed. The picture of Kathleen was no longer lying atop his trunk. I stared at the shabby trunk and wondered what the missing picture meant. Was this another warning of sorts? Did he hope to unnerve me by removing the picture? If that had been his plan, it had worked.
A Simple Change Page 23