Berta dug in her reticule and withdrew a piece of paper. “Can you help me locate this address?” She thrust the paper toward Larissa.
Stretching forward, I peered at the address and wheeled around. “I thought you wanted to locate your father. Isn’t that Caroline’s address?”
“You’re right!” Larissa said. “I was certain I knew who lived at that address, but until you said Caroline, I couldn’t recall. Yes, that’s the address of Caroline Rohrer’s home. A lovely place—and a beautiful widow.”
“Widow? You’re acquainted with her?” Berta asked.
“Not well. Caroline’s father was somewhat older than my own father, but they formed a business relationship years ago. My father owes some of his success to Mr. Rohrer. Both of Caroline’s parents are deceased. At her mother’s death, she became very wealthy in her own right.”
“Would you be willing to take me there?” Berta was already inching toward the carriage.
“I would, but the house is closed for the summer. Caroline sailed for Europe and won’t return to Chicago until September. I understand she made a last-minute decision to sail to Europe before returning to the family’s summer home at the shore.”
Berta leaned against me, and I thought she might faint. “Why don’t we go inside to finish this conversation.”
“But I must find my father. I was certain he would be with Caroline.” Fear shone in her eyes as sudden realization hit. “Do you think he sailed to Europe with her? Or maybe he’s gone to meet her at the shore?” Berta blurted the questions as though she expected us to know.
Larissa grasped Berta’s sleeve and nodded toward the porch. “Come along. You need to sit down. And let’s don’t assume the worst.”
I nodded in agreement. “I’m sure we can find your father. He said he would be attending medical training here in Chicago. It shouldn’t be difficult to locate him.”
While leading Berta to a chair in the parlor, Larissa assented. “Yes, we’ll find your father. Wilhelm will know what to do.”
My final days in Chicago weren’t at all what I’d expected. Instead of another visit to the museum or library, instead of enjoying a concert or play, instead of attending a tea or party, my time was consumed with Berta and Dr. Schumacher. Wilhelm had been more than willing to lend his assistance in locating the doctor but thought it best if I accompany him rather than Berta. “It’s better you explain her circumstances so that Dr. Schumacher has time to consider how he should handle his daughter.” His idea was well founded, and I didn’t argue. Berta, however, hadn’t agreed.
But she’d been forced to acquiesce when Wilhelm announced the matter would be handled his way or not at all. The afternoon after Berta had arrived, our carriage driver delivered us to an address some distance away. A sign on the porch rail proclaimed the place was a boardinghouse serving fine food. “I’m surprised Dr. Schu-macher is staying here. I thought he’d stay at a hotel. Or maybe with a doctor he’d known when he lived here.”
“It’s close to the medical school. And I’d guess Dr. Schumacher’s old acquaintances aren’t as interested in his friendship now that he’s living in Amana. Folks don’t understand our ways, Johanna.”
“Our ways? Are they still your ways, Wilhelm?”
His shoulders sagged, and I detected the pain in his eyes. I hadn’t meant to hurt him.
“I still believe everything I was taught, but I can’t live in Amana.” He folded his hands together. “Living in such opulence may not confirm what I say, but Larissa is accustomed to luxury. I can’t deny her.” He glanced at the boardinghouse. “Shall we see if Dr. Schumacher is in?”
The boardinghouse keeper answered the door on Wilhelm’s first knock. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head, and she assessed us with pursed lips. “I’m full up, but I can give you the address of another boardinghouse.”
Wilhelm shook his head. “We’re not in need of a room. Is Dr.
Schumacher here at the present time?”
She waved us inside. “He returned from the school a short time ago and went up to his room to study his books until suppertime. I’ll fetch him.”
“She’s certainly a fount of information,” Wilhelm said with a grin.
From the startled look on Dr. Schumacher’s face when he first set eyes on me, I knew Wilhelm had made the proper decision. Seeing Berta would have likely sent him into a panic. “Johanna! I never imagined I’d see you here. Has something happened to my wife?” He hesitated a moment. “Or Berta?” The landlady stood behind him on the steps as he clutched the newel post and waited.
“They are both fine,” I assured him. “Is there someplace where we could speak privately?”
The boardinghouse keeper pushed her way around Dr. Schu-macher. “You can use the parlor. Feel free to close the doors. I’ll see to my supper preparations.”
Though it hadn’t been my intent, I’d clearly offended the woman. Dr. Schumacher didn’t seem to notice, for he hurried us toward the room and immediately closed the doors. “Please, sit down.” He wheeled around and dropped into one of the overstuffed chairs, his brows furrowed. “Tell me what brings you here.”
“It’s Berta.”
He lurched forward at the mention of her name, and I waved him back.
“She is perfectly fine, but she’s here in Chicago.”
His jaw dropped, and he stared at me, then looked at Wilhelm, obviously wanting confirmation I hadn’t lost my mind.
“She arrived yesterday and wanted to come here with us.
However, I thought it would lessen the shock for you and also give you a little time to think about how to . . . well, decide what you want to do.” Wilhelm turned toward me. “You go ahead and explain, Johanna.”
I briefly told him about the dancing and Lydia’s burns and broken arm, but I didn’t detail all that Berta had told me. “There is more, but she didn’t believe she could remain in Amana any longer. She came here to find you, but she had my brother’s address and knew I was visiting him.”
He nodded, but confusion still clouded his eyes. “Until I talk to her and discover the full extent of what has occurred, I won’t be able to make a decision about the future. Needless to say, I’ll need to talk to her mother, as well. This all comes as quite a shock.”
After speaking privately with Berta, Dr. Schumacher determined it would be best to leave Chicago before his training was completed. Both Wilhelm and I had agreed with his decision. Berta had been less enthusiastic. She thought they should remain in Chicago and send for her mother, but she didn’t win the argument. Instead, after a talk with her father, they decided she should visit the boarding school in Iowa and then return to Amana with her father so the family could discuss her future.
Berta and her father departed early in the morning the same day Wilhelm and I left for Amana. Larissa accompanied all of us to the train station. Berta bid us a tearful farewell and promised she’d see me soon. I couldn’t be sure if she had already come to some decision about her future or if she simply didn’t want to say good-bye.
As the train heaved and chugged out of the station, Berta waved from the open window.
“Her parents do have their hands full with that young lady, but you can’t help but like her,” Larissa said.
“I don’t know if everyone in Amana would agree with that. However, she is a sweet girl who longs for attention. Unfortunately, she goes to great lengths in order to get what she wants.”
Larissa nodded. “She reminds me of myself when I was younger. My parents had time for everything except me—at least that was how it seemed at the time. I didn’t go to Berta’s extremes, but they were quite unhappy with me on several occasions. After my father finally refused me several things I wanted, I outgrew my penchant for such mischief.”
“Berta has difficulty abiding by rules. She’d never before been forced to follow them, so living in Amana has been a challenge. Though I would miss her, perhaps the boarding school would be best for her.” I lo
oped arms with Wilhelm once the train was out of sight. “We’d better hurry or we’ll miss our own train.” When I said good-bye to Larissa it would be with the hope that my mother and father would eventually welcome Louisa back home and would accept Larissa with genuine love.
CHAPTER 29
Wilhelm hurried ahead to see if our train was on schedule while Larissa and I waited with the baggage. She withdrew an envelope from her reticule. “Please don’t give this to your mother until after Wilhelm has departed for New York.”
“I don’t think he would object to you writing our parents,” I said.
“He knows I planned to write, but I don’t want the time consumed with talk about me. I’d like for him to use the time with them to heal the wounds from his past.”
“Have you encouraged him to do that?”
Her melancholy smile told me she hadn’t. “I was hoping you might find some way to talk with him on the train. Tell him how much your parents have missed him and that you know I want to visit more often. See if he will confide in you.”
The noise in the station escalated as a wave of people disembarked an arriving train and flooded inside. “I’m not very good at such things, but I’ll do my best.”
She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “You’ll find a way.”
I wasn’t so certain. “Only if God gives me the right words. I have no idea how to broach the subject without raising suspicion that we’ve discussed his past.”
“Then we must pray that God will give you the words—and the proper timing.”
The train had entered Iowa when I turned to Wilhelm. “Tell me about Pieter. I have no memories of him. I always think Mutter or Vater will become sad if I ask about him.”
He jerked away, as if my words had wounded him. “And you think talking about Pieter’s death doesn’t make me sad?”
His harsh tone surprised me. “I didn’t ask about his death. I asked about Pieter. Unlike the rest of the family, I don’t remember him at all. I wondered if he was bright in school or liked to be outdoors. Did he go fishing with you like I did before you left Amana, or did he prefer to play with his friends?”
Wilhelm leaned his head against the seat and closed his eyes. “Pieter was a fine boy. He loved doing all the things young boys in Amana enjoy: fishing, picking apples, sitting on the levee watching the dredge boat shovel muck from the millrace, climbing trees.” Wilhelm opened his eyes. “He was energetic and full of life from the day he entered the world. If not for me, he would have become a wonderful man.”
“What do you mean, ‘if not for me’?” I hoped my gentle prodding would convince my brother to finally tell me the story my sister-in-law had already related.
Pain contorted Wilhelm’s strong features. “Mutter and Vater didn’t tell you I was the cause of Pieter’s death?”
“No. They would never say such a thing. They said Pieter drowned while he was ice-skating. It’s why they never permitted me to go skating with my friends when I was young.” I touched his arm. “They said it was an accident, Wilhelm.”
He shook his head, and shame contorted his features. In a halting voice he related the ice-skating incident and how he’d failed to warn Pieter of the thin ice and then lied to our parents. “You can’t imagine the guilt I feel each time I look into their eyes. I stayed in Amana until I could no longer bear to live with the constant feelings of shame.” His feelings gushed forth like a torrent of rain thundering across a parched desert.
Elbows on his knees, he covered his face with his palms. I leaned against his arm and rested my head on his shoulder. “You’ve buried this inside for too long, Wilhelm. Promise me you will talk to Mutter and Vater. They love you. It is time to heal these memories that haunt you.” Softly I nudged his arm. “Promise me you will talk to them. Please, Wilhelm. Family secrets aren’t a good thing.”
He nodded. “You’re right. It has been long enough. They deserve to know the truth. Long ago I received God’s forgiveness, but I need their forgiveness, too. Otherwise I’ll never be free from the past.” He leaned sideways and kissed my forehead. “Thank you, Johanna.”
I clutched his arm for the remainder of the journey. I’d never felt such a close kinship with my brother, and I wanted to cherish each moment.
As the train rumbled into Homestead, I spied Father standing on the platform and waved from the train window. He signaled in return, and a broad smile transformed his usually sober face. The moment I stepped down from the train, he hurried to my side and pulled me into a rib-clenching embrace that forced the breath out of me.
“It is gut to have you home, Johanna.”
He released me, and I inhaled a deep breath of air and rubbed my side. “And I am pleased to be here.” I glanced around. “Mutter didn’t come with you?”
“She had to choose if she would be away from her work in the garden this morning or this afternoon. She chose to come home early this afternoon so she will have more time to visit with Wilhelm.”
Wilhelm stretched forward, and the two men shook hands. From my angle I thought both of them feared rejection if the other should reach out to embrace. Wilhelm gestured toward the luggage. “I’ll get the bags, and we can be on our way.”
Vater wanted to hear about what all I’d done during my stay in Chicago. I shook my head and laughed. “You must wait until Mutter is with us. Otherwise you’ll listen to the same story two times.”
He agreed as he flicked the reins, and we headed toward Amana. “I do have some news that will make you very sad.” My Vater glanced over his shoulder and looked at me. “Your friend Berta has disappeared. Run away. Poor Sister Helen has been very worried.”
I wasn’t certain why, but I assumed Berta had left a note telling her mother she’d gone to Chicago. I never imagined that she would leave her mother to worry over her whereabouts. Dr. Schumacher had given me a note for his wife, but I thought the contents revealed his plans to take Berta to Iowa City before returning home.
“Berta is safe. She’s with her father, but I must speak to Sister Schumacher as soon as we arrive in Amana. Could you take me to the Kinderschule? I have a letter for her, and I believe I can set her mind at ease about Berta.”
“How do you know all of this? Did Berta send you a letter?”
I explained Berta’s arrival in Chicago. “Dr. Schumacher said he will need to meet with the Bruderrat when he returns from Iowa City later tonight—to explain his inability to complete the medical training.”
“That Berta is always busy stirring up trouble. You would not believe the problems she has caused for Sister Muhlbach.” He tsked and wagged his head. “She makes me thank God for my wonderful children.”
Wilhelm shot me a look of apprehension.
“We are not perfect children, Vater. Both Wilhelm and I have made our share of bad choices. Your memory is short because we are older now.”
“Ja. I suppose that is true. And even old folks like me still make mistakes. I need to have a more forgiving spirit with Berta, but it hasn’t been easy watching Sister Schumacher suffer with worry and concern for her daughter. Or listening to Sister Muhlbach rant and rave about the girl’s bad behavior.” He chuckled. “I don’t know how one girl could think of so many ways to annoy the Küchebaas. Your Mutter says Berta has a special gift for trouble.”
I didn’t think her assessment was correct, but I didn’t argue. While Vater and Wilhelm talked about the woolen mill and work at the barn, I relaxed and enjoyed the colors that had transformed the bleak timbered hills and valleys after a long, hard winter into breathtaking beauty. As our villages came into view, I marveled at their unfolding loveliness. Breathing a gentle sigh, I knew I’d come home to the place where I belonged.
Mutter was already at home when we arrived. She scurried to the front door to welcome us. After carrying the baggage into the house, Wilhelm and Father decided they would return the buggy to the barn.
“I need to see if there have been any problems while I was gone,” my father said.
>
The moment they’d departed, my mother enfolded me in another embrace. “I missed you so much, Johanna.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears, and I patted her shoulder. “There’s no need for tears, Mutter. I’m home to stay, but I’m glad that I went to spend time in Chicago and to meet Tante Louisa.”
The mention of Louisa brought a flood of fearful questions. I answered them one by one.
Finally she gulped a deep breath and asked, “Do you still harbor anger at me for not telling you?”
“The anger is gone, Mutter, but family secrets are not good. I know your fears ran deep, but you should have trusted me enough to know that my love for you would have outweighed any secret about my birth. My anger was because you hid the truth from me.”
“I know now that you’re right, but I didn’t ever want to lose you; and once you discovered the truth, it confirmed all of my fears.” A tear trickled down her weathered cheek. “But after a while I realized it wasn’t the truth that caused you to leave but rather the lie we’d been living for all these years.”
With a gentle touch I wiped the tear from her cheek. “There’s no need for crying. You will always be my Mutter.” I pulled her into an embrace.
“What about Louisa? Is she angry with me?”
“Louisa sends nothing but love to you. She said she will be writing, and if you and Vater won’t come to Chicago for a short visit, she would like to bring her husband to Amana for a few days.” I leaned back to look in her eyes. “Do you think that would be a gut idea?”
She shook her head. “Not to go to Chicago, but I would like her to come to Amana. We need to put the past behind us and become sisters once again.” She inhaled a deep breath. “Now tell me all the things you did in Chicago. Did you have a gut time?”
“Vater asked me that same question on the ride home, and I told him he must wait until you were present. So now we must wait for him.”
Mother laughed and the wrinkles deepened around her eyes. “Then I will try to be patient. Sister Thekla will be glad that you are home. She has missed you, but not as much as Carl did. I know he is hoping to see you very soon.”
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