Somewhere to Belong

by Judith Miller

  “I will need at least ten minutes.”

  He flinched at my terse reply. “Whatever you need will be fine. I’ll wait outside.”

  I should have tempered my curt response, but I still hadn’t completely digested all that was happening. Besides, I needed to visit the outhouse and then collect my mending.

  It was closer to fifteen minutes by the time Mother and I finally gathered all our items. In addition to her handwork, she decided we would need a blanket to keep our skirts free of grass stains or dirt. Obviously, she didn’t plan to fish, either.

  After a quick inspection of the items, Mother said, “I think this is everything we should need.”

  A tap on the front door let me know we’d taken longer than Carl had anticipated. “Coming.” I yanked open the door and took a backward step. “Berta! I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  She grinned. “I know. Carl’s at the buggy talking to Rudolf. He said you’re going fishing.”

  “We are.” My mother came alongside me, the blanket and her sewing basket tucked in one arm.

  Berta clapped her hands. “Oh good. You’re going, too, Sister Ilg. My mother said Rudolf and I could go along if either you or Brother Ilg would be acting as a chaperone.”

  “Well, I—”

  Clearly Berta had taken my mother by surprise. She shot me a please-help-me look, but I squelched any feelings of sympathy. When I’d sent out my silent plea only a short time ago, she had ignored me. Besides, having Berta and Rudolf along would ease my discomfort. Rudolf could fish with Carl, and Berta would keep us entertained with her antics.

  Before my mother could regain her composure, I said, “Of course. You’re welcome to come along, Berta. And Rudolf, too.”

  My mother squeezed my arm. “I’m not certain that’s what . . . Well, I don’t think—”

  “Carl will enjoy having Rudolf as a fishing companion, don’t you think, Mutter?”

  “I don’t think either of us should speak for Carl. We can’t be sure what he would enjoy.”

  “Oh, Carl said he didn’t mind,” Berta interjected. “We’ve already asked him.”

  Mother frowned and heaved a sigh. By day’s end Mother would understand that dealing with Berta was not so easy—the girl could transform any event to her own liking.

  When I saw the buggy waiting in front of our house, I knew Carl and Father had made the fishing arrangements in advance. Normally the buggy wouldn’t have been used for such a frivolous outing. And though Father seldom took advantage, using a wagon or buggy was a privilege of his position as a farm Baas. Either Carl or my father had hitched the horses earlier in the day. Yes, this had been arranged earlier. But I couldn’t understand why my parents would push me toward Carl. Our religion clearly stated that whenever possible, it was better to remain unmarried. Could my father’s desire to replace Wilhelm be so strong that he would make no effort to mask his efforts?

  Berta had tucked herself beside Rudolf in the rear seat. Father hadn’t planned on five passengers or he would have selected a larger buggy. Berta scooted closer to Rudolf and waved to my mother. “There’s room back here for you, Sister Ilg.

  “Or for me,” I said, approaching the buggy.

  Berta shook her head with such vehemence, her cap nearly dislodged from her head. “Your mother is a better fit.”

  I pressed my hands down the sides of my hips. “Are you saying I’m too large to fit back there with you?”

  “No, of course not, but . . .”

  My mother inched around me. “I will sit between Rudolf and Berta. You climb up front with Carl.” She motioned for Berta to step down. “Hurry now, Berta, or we’ll waste the afternoon getting ourselves arranged.”

  A frown stretched across Berta’s face, but she followed Mother’s instruction. I didn’t know why, but irritation niggled at me. Perhaps because Berta had given in so easily and I knew she would have argued with me.

  As he rounded the buggy, Carl ran his palm down the side of the horse’s muzzle in an affectionate gesture. “Let me help you up,” he said as he approached me. His voice was gentle.

  He grasped my elbow, and a surprising tingle raced up my arm. I chided myself for such foolishness and wriggled onto the buggy seat. With practiced ease, Carl hoisted himself up beside me. His arm brushed against me as he flicked the reins. Another shiver coursed through my body, and when he glanced at me, my stomach fluttered. I turned away, fearful my embarrassment would be obvious.

  “Your cheeks are as red as a ripe tomato. You should have worn your sunbonnet instead of only your cap.” Berta giggled and squeezed my shoulder. “Unless it’s something other than the sun that’s causing your rosy complexion.”

  I wanted to throttle her. The girl took far too much pleasure in causing others embarrassment. “I’m fine, thank you. My sunbonnet is in my sewing basket. I’ll put it on once we arrive at the river.”

  “I’ll find a place in the shade for you to sit,” Carl said. “In springtime, the sunshine can cause sunburn before you know it.”

  Between the two of them, they’d made me sound like a frail flower that might wilt in the out-of-doors. “I am accustomed to working in the sunshine, Carl. I help with the onion and potato harvest, and I’m even able to hang clothes on the line without fainting.”

  He lowered his chin. “I am sorry if I offended you. It wasn’t my intention. I only wanted to offer protection.”

  I wanted to tell him I didn’t need protection, that I’d managed just fine for all of my twenty-one years, that I was quite capable of finding my own shade, but something stopped me. Perhaps it was the pained look in his eyes. Or perhaps it was the memory of his hand on my elbow. “Thank you, Carl. I appreciate your concern.”

  Although I couldn’t discern their conversation, I could hear Berta and Rudolf chattering throughout the remainder of the drive. My mother attempted to interrupt them several times, but her efforts proved futile. Smiling, I pictured the scene in the back of the buggy—Berta bending forward and leaning across Mother so that Rudolf wouldn’t miss a word she was saying while Mother struggled to gain control. I knew I’d hear a full report later from Mother.

  “Here we are,” Carl said, pulling back on the reins and bringing the horse to a stop.

  I wasn’t surprised at the choice of fishing location. It had been one of Wilhelm’s favorites, as well. Though nearly everyone in all of the villages considered Indian Dam the very best place to catch fish, time wouldn’t permit such a distant visit today. Both Berta and I would be expected back at the kitchen to help prepare Sunday supper before the evening church meeting.

  A few other families had spread their blankets nearby. Several of the children had removed their stockings and were dipping their toes in the cold river water. Carl pointed to a distant spot where the leafy branches of two thick trees provided ample shade. “A gut spot, ja?”

  Sister Zewald was staring in our direction, likely wondering why we were secluding ourselves from the other families.

  “The children will frighten the fish away with their splashing and squealing.” Carl had obviously noticed Sister Zewald’s watching us. My mother’s lack of concern surprised me, for normally she worried about appearances. When Wilhelm had moved from the community, she’d fretted for months. At times I wondered if it was because she missed him or because she feared other members of the society might think she’d failed as a parent.

  I remained planted beside the buggy. “What do you think, Mutter? Do you want to visit with Sister Zewald or sit near the stand of trees?”

  “Under the trees will be better. I can rest my back while I’m doing my needlework.”

  Berta hadn’t waited for my mother’s decision. She bounded out of the buggy and was close on Rudolf ’s heels, both of them headed toward the river. She stopped long enough to look over her shoulder and wave me forward. “Come on, Johanna. Put on your sunbonnet and let’s see if we can catch more fish than either of the fellows. Rudolf said he’d bait my hook.”

&nb
sp; While Carl helped my mother settle beneath the trees, I strolled down to the edge of the water, where Rudolf was threading a scrawny worm onto a hook. “What a skinny little worm you’re giving her,” I commented. “Only a minnow would nibble on such a paltry worm.” I lifted the lid on Rudolf ’s can of bait and worked my fingers through the dirt. “What about this one?” I grasped a fat earthworm between my thumb and index finger and hoisted it into the air.

  Rudolf looked at me and then at the worm he’d threaded onto the hook. “I already baited her hook.”

  “You can switch poles with her. Give me that other pole, Berta.”

  She grinned at Rudolf and handed me the pole. “You’re not going to do that yourself, are you?”

  “Of course. The first time I asked my brother to take me fishing, he said I had to bait my own hook and take any fish I caught off the hook. I promised that if he’d show me one time, I’d do it myself.” With surprising ease, I worked the wiggly worm onto the hook. “I’ve been doing it ever since.”

  Berta wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I want to hold a worm.”

  “Then you better not plan on winning a fishing contest, because I’m not going to stop and bait your hook each time you catch a fish or lose your bait.” I nodded toward the river. “Toss your line out there in the deeper water. If you feel a tug on the line, jerk back.”

  Carl sauntered toward me while I was baiting another hook. “I thought you brought some mending you planned to work on while I fished.”

  I’d completely forgotten my earlier remark. I shrugged and glanced toward the trees. “Maybe Mutter will take pity on me and do my mending instead of her fancywork.”

  “You did a gut job with that worm. Let’s see how gut you are at catching fish,” he said with a grin as he tossed his line into the water.

  I stepped around him and moved a short distance before I tossed out my line. “I think you’ll discover I’m better than you or Rudolf.” My remark was far too smug for a proper young woman, yet he didn’t appear offended.

  “And what is the prize for the winner?” he teased, and I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks.

  “The losers bait hooks for the winners next Sunday afternoon.”

  Berta had shouted out an answer before I could even begin to think of a response. I glared across the expanse of rock-laden riverbank that separated us. “I believe he was asking me, Berta.”

  She ignored my remark and laughed. “What do you think, Carl? Do you think the reward suitable?”

  He touched two fingers to the brim of his straw hat. “Your offer is accepted.”

  Before I could object, Berta cried out and pulled back on her pole. “I’ve got one, Johanna. Help me before it gets away!”

  Rudolf reached out to grab Berta’s pole, but she turned her back to keep the pole from his reach. “Don’t you try to make me lose my fish, Rudolf Stilson. Hurry, Johanna.”

  Carl extended his hand. “I’ll hold your pole while you help Berta.” He smiled and promised he wouldn’t cheat.

  Had Berta or Rudolf made such a promise, I wouldn’t have believed them, but for some reason I believed Carl. Maybe it was the set of his square jaw or the soft yet firm tone of his voice. Then again, maybe it was the sincerity that shone in his blue eyes. I wasn’t sure why, but I trusted him.

  Within moments I was at Berta’s side. Though she proved more of a hindrance than a help, we finally managed to land the fish. Berta took a backward step while the fish flopped on the riverbank. “Is it in pain?”

  I met her worried eyes. “I don’t know if fish feel pain, but if they do, I would imagine that it is in pain. Do you want to throw it back in?”

  Brow furrowed, she stared at the flopping whiskered catfish.

  “I’ve got one!” Rudolf shouted, jerking on his pole.

  His proclamation was enough to make Berta’s decision clear. “Take the hook out and put another worm on,” she commanded.

  “Lean down here and watch me take the hook out. It’s up to you to take care of the next one.” Though she flinched several times, she watched me remove the hook and place the fish on the stringer. I did my best to rinse the fishy smell from my hands at the edge of the river before I pointed to the bait. “Get busy and get a worm on there. Looks like Rudolf ’s fish got away.”

  Holding his empty line in one hand, Rudolf cast a disgruntled look at us. “And it took my bait, too,” he grumbled.

  Berta’s laughter followed me as I hurried back to retrieve my pole from Carl. “No bites?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. Maybe the one that got away from Rudolf will swim down here.”

  The words had barely escaped his lips when I felt a stiff tug on my line. I yanked back to lodge the hook in the fish’s mouth. The simple movement was enough to let my foot slip into the mud. Without warning, my other foot slid forward and I let out a yelp. Carl dropped his pole and took a sideward step as I toppled in a giant heap and landed directly on top of him. My mud-streaked skirt splayed across his legs as I fought to gain a foothold. I struggled to a sitting position, horrified when I realized I was sitting between Carl’s legs. Again I struggled for a foothold.

  “Quit wiggling.” With a firm grip, Carl grabbed me around the waist and pulled me backward until we were on the grass. The warmth of his chest rested against my back, and even after he released his hold, I could feel the strength of his arm around me. Leaning back, he pushed to a stand and reached for my hand. “That was truly fisherman’s luck.” He pointed at the river’s edge.

  Lying on the bank was my pole with a giant fish still on the hook. “I’ll let you count that one,” I said and hesitated only a moment before adding, “as thanks for saving me.”

  He flashed a grin and shook his head. “As thanks, I would like you to come fishing with me each Sunday in June. What do you think about that?”

  I thought of his strong arms around me, and the idea appealed more than I cared to admit. Thoughts swirled in my head while I considered his offer. “You will need to discuss that with my Vater. I do not think he will approve. Even more, I doubt the Bruderrat will approve.”

  He appeared unconvinced. “Why should they object? We are only fishing.”

  The gleam in his eye belied the words he spoke. I knew this was more than fishing.

  CHAPTER 10

  A week later the door to my bedroom burst open without warning. In one frantic motion I twisted on the bed and shoved the magazine behind my pillow. From the gleam in Berta’s eyes, I knew I hadn’t been quick enough. “Don’t you know it’s rude to walk into someone’s room without knocking? What if I had been changing clothes?”

  Berta plopped down on the edge of the bed. “It wouldn’t have bothered me in the least. Besides, you wouldn’t be changing clothes at this time of day.”

  Why had Mother permitted her to enter my room without notice? Her gaze remained fastened upon my bed pillows, and I knew it was only a matter of time before she made her move. “I thought you were going to spend the afternoon with your father.” My Sunday afternoon fishing trip with Carl had been canceled due to the rain, and I had anticipated being alone until time to prepare supper.

  “He had to go care for one of the Stuke boys. He fell out of a tree.”

  I clasped a hand to my chest. “Was it Luther?” I was certain of the answer before I asked. Luther was one of those children who had a new injury with each passing week.

  Berta bobbed her head, her gaze still fixed upon my pillow. “From what his brother said, it sounded like a broken leg. I decided it would be more fun to spend the afternoon visiting with you.”

  “Did you speak to my Mutter in the parlor?”

  “She and your father are on the front porch. Whispering together.” Mischief danced in her eyes. “I would be glad to tell you what they were saying if you let me look at that magazine you’ve hidden behind your pillow.”

  Rain pattered on my bedroom window and spiraled downward in streaming rivulets. Although the front porch had a ro
of, I couldn’t imagine my parents sitting out there while it rained. “They’re sitting in the rain?”

  “No. They were standing—very close together. Under the roof. Whispering about a letter.”

  My interest heightened, but I didn’t completely trust Berta. To get her way, she’d go to most any length—even tell a lie. If I expressed a modicum of disbelief, perhaps she’d tell me more. “I don’t know why they would whisper about a letter.”

  “Maybe because they don’t want you to know what it says.” Like the juicy apple offered to Eve in the garden, Berta enticed me with her words.

  “And why did they permit you to listen in on their conversation?”

  She flopped backward and stretched across the width of the bed. “I was eavesdropping. They didn’t know I was listening.”

  I didn’t doubt that Berta would eavesdrop on a private conversation, but I didn’t believe she’d heard my parents talking on the front porch. She wanted to see my magazine. If I showed her, I didn’t trust she’d keep her lips sealed, but if she truly had heard something about a letter, I wanted to know. “What makes you think I have a magazine?”

  “I know that’s not your Bible or Psalter-Spiel you shoved behind the pillow. They’re too cumbersome. Is it Peterson’s Magazine or Godey’s Lady’s Book?” She rolled to her side and rested her chin on her fist. “I do hope it’s Godey’s. It’s my favorite.”

  “Mine too,” I blurted without thinking.

  The inky blue quilted bedspread rumpled beneath her as she rolled to her back and clapped her hands. “I knew it! I knew it! Let me see.”

  She lunged at the pillows, but I blocked her move. “I didn’t say it was Godey’s. I merely agreed that Godey’s is my favorite magazine.”

  “But how would you even know about Godey’s if you didn’t have a copy? Where did you get it?”

  I clasped her wrist and held her at bay. “Tell me what my parents said, and perhaps I’ll tell you how I know about Godey’s.” I wasn’t yet ready to admit I had a copy of the magazine. “I’m not certain I trust you.”