by Cathy Marie Hake, Lynn A. Coleman, Mary Davis, Susan Page Davis
“Mr. Bayley is a kindhearted man.”
“And I’m not.”
His words jolted Lorelei. She didn’t know what to say. Jesus, please give me the right words. I need Your wisdom and kindness.
Mr. Diamond looked at her and said gruffly, “I’m not proud of how things went last week. I had no call to say what I did. Whatever gentility I once had is long gone. Stay away from me. I had the good sense to leave home so I wouldn’t hurt those I love; this is my refuge. Once I have this place fixed, I won’t have to bother with anyone else.”
“It is no sin to hurt inside or to question God, Mr. Diamond.” Her apron wadded in her hands as she quietly confessed, “God has heard more than a few of my questions and knows my grief. I would be wrong to judge you, let alone find you guilty of what I have done myself.”
“I saw your tears.” Each word grated out of him. “You walked out of my kitchen weeping—because of me.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. “It was because of you. In this, you are right; but you are also wrong. I didn’t cry for myself. I cried because I cannot imagine the pain you try to bear alone. In Psalms, it says the Good Shepherd is with us when we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Many days and nights—even in the midst of my sorrow and questions—that has been my only comfort. I have been angry, and I have asked, ‘Why?’ but I have always leaned on the assurance that God is beside me. My heart aches to think you are without that comfort.”
“You can’t expect me to find peace when I’ve lived though war.”
“Peace is not a place; it is a serenity that comes when we trust God that He will make all things right in His time.”
He shook his head sadly. “Buttercup, I meant it. Keep your distance.”
Buttercup—I like that he called me such a beautiful name. Deep inside, this man longs for good things. She reached out to pet his dog. “When you doctored her and bandaged her, did she try to bite you?”
Lightning fast, he reacted. “I’m not a stray dog for you to heal.”
“No, you are not, but just as you understood she didn’t mean to hurt you, I also accept that you reacted out of pain. Now that I see what is in your heart, I’m not afraid.”
Pinkus sauntered up. “Good, good. The two of you are talking. Lorelei, knock some sense into this stubborn man’s head. Tell him to hire me to paint the place after you put in the new windows.”
Lorelei felt her face grow warm. “I cannot do this, Mr. Bayley.” She’d secretly hoped Mr. Diamond would give her the commission to replace his broken windows. The job would bring in enough money for her to slip some into the savings sock. Now, though, since Mr. Diamond had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her, she couldn’t very well make a bid for the work.
“Why not?” The old man’s face crinkled into a hundred wrinkles as he turned to Russell. “You unhappy with the job my men have been doing?”
“I’m pleased. The roof and chimneys look good.”
“Then what’s the holdup? While we do the roof and chimney over at the cottage, Lorelei can get to work on your windows up here.”
“I didn’t order the paint yet,” Mr. Diamond said.
Something about the set of his jaw made Lorelei take a second look. He put down the dog, and as the dog gingerly tested standing again, realization dawned. He’s offended because his leg is weak. Climbing the ladder will be too hard, but he doesn’t want anyone to treat him like a cripple.
Lorelei sat in the wagon and folded her hands in her lap. “What colors did you decide on, Mr. Diamond? When you paint the inside of your house, will you do different colors for the rooms?”
“He can paint them whatever color he fancies. Don’t make no nevermind to me,” Mr. Bayley snorted. “And the outside—well, to my way of thinking, it would be a crying shame to paint this grand old woman anything other than white.” He directed his attention back toward Mr. Diamond. “Russ, reason it through. By the time you buy ladders and scaffolding, you pert near hired my crew to do the outside of this place. They could really use the work, and you have plenty that needs doing on the inside to keep you busy.”
Clearly, the old man’s reasoning went a long way toward salvaging Mr. Diamond’s pride. Mr. Diamond hooked his thumbs through belt loops and drawled, “Slate. I want slate for some of the detail work.”
“Slate blue or slate gray?” Lorelei ruffled the fur between the dog’s ears.
“Isn’t it the same?” both men asked in unison.
She shook her head. “What colors do you want inside?”
“Back to that, eh?” Bayley chuckled.
“Well, if he wants to use silver, pink, and black inside, then he should use slate gray.” She tilted her head toward Mr. Diamond. “If you want to use blues, lavender, and gold, you should use blue slate.”
“Sounds to me like the lass knows what she’s talking about. She going to do the windows before we set to painting?”
“I need to go back home.” Lorelei wondered why she’d bothered to try to look so casual. She stood and reached for the wagon handle, the whole time feeling embarrassed that her neighbor didn’t want her around and hadn’t offered her the job. “Good-bye.”
“What’s awrong with her?” Mr. Bayley muttered as she dragged the wagon down the gravel.
Mr. Diamond mumbled something, but Lorelei couldn’t tell precisely what he said. Then again, maybe that was best. Perhaps he has been too polite to say it, but the real reason he doesn’t want me around is the same reason others have shunned us. Yes, he asked Mama to cook, but he was desperate. The truth is, he doesn’t think I’m American; he thinks I am the enemy.
“Miss Goetz?” Russell stood in the doorway of what looked to be her workshop. Lorelei was welding something on a table, and he’d waited until she put the soldering iron down so she wouldn’t burn herself. In those moments, he’d promised himself that he would mind his words so he didn’t hurt her again.
“Yes?” She glanced over her shoulder at him.
“I’d like to speak with you.”
“Come around toward the window.” She swept her hand in a fluid gesture. “I have not swept and do not want you to get glass in your shoes.”
He walked around the perimeter of the room and hated how his uneven gait sounded on the cement floor. If Lorelei noticed it, she managed to hide her reaction. She sat on a tall stool, had a pencil shoved haphazardly into her hair, and wore a supple leather apron that nearly covered her everyday dress.
As far as he knew, she owned three dresses—a “Sunday-best” gray and black one and two “everyday” dresses. He strongly suspected the sunshine yellow dress had been her Sunday best until she’d needed to make the gray-and-black-striped one for mourning.
“What are you making?”
She fussed with the edge of the window. “A piece for the Mariners’ Chapel.”
“Can we hold it up so I can see the design?”
“I need to weld a few more places before it can be moved.”
“Okay. I’ll wait.” He watched as she exchanged the soldering iron for another that she had waiting on a potbelly-type affair. Even with all the windows and both doors open, the heat made the workroom feel sticky and hot. But that thing isn’t enough to keep this big drafty room warm in the winter. I’ll have to put in a larger one. Maybe she’d rather have a second one in the opposite corner.
“There’s another stool. You are welcome to have a seat.” She bent over her task and concentrated on each action with precision that made her features take on an intensity that caused her eyes to glow. The heat from soldering and her passion for what she did made her cheeks rosy.
“You love what you do.”
“It was a gift from my papa. He taught me.”
He didn’t want to talk about her father. He’d seen too much death in his short time in the trenches to want to think of it now. Instead, Russell tried to keep the conversation focused on her work. “What is this one called?”
; “Fishers of Men.”
“Do you design them yourself, or do you have a book of samples?”
“Each window is a new opportunity. I talk to the person who commissions it and see what they have in mind; then I make sketches and have them select what pleases them.” She handled the flux, soldering wire, and iron with a deftness that bespoke many hours of practice.
“The racks there for storing your glass are clever.”
She laughed. “You are teasing me.”
“I’m serious.” He looked at the wooden fixtures that held a veritable rainbow of glass panes in an orderly vertical array. The attorney said my uncle feared her place might be vandalized. No wonder he worried. All this glass …
“Every business has to organize the material,” she said in a practical tone.
Her words pulled him away from imagining what danger she and her mother might have been in, in town. He didn’t want to think of that, and conversing about how she had things set up seemed easy enough. “You can see everything, and it doesn’t take much storage space.”
She glanced up from her work. Her eyes danced with unrestrained humor. “Some were broken when we moved here, so I use noodle-drying racks on the end to hold the smaller pieces.”
“Noodle-drying racks?” He took a closer look. “No wonder you thought I was teasing you.”
Setting aside the soldering iron, she offered, “We can lift this now so you can see it if you are still interested.”
“Let me help.”
“Just a minute, please.” She rotated a crank, and a length of sturdy rope snaked down from a pulley hanging from a ceiling beam. The rope forked into two equal lengths. Each held substantial hooks. “This will make it easy.” She stood on one of the rungs of her stool and stretched forward as far as she could.
“I’m closer.” He took the hooks and threaded them through rings she’d affixed to the top of the window. “There.”
Slowly, carefully, she operated the crank until the window hung suspended in space. “Come to this side so you can see the sun coming through the panes.”
Russell didn’t need to be asked twice. He’d already gotten the general flavor of the piece and wanted to see its full splendor. He reached her side and looked at the work in awe. Boats floated on rippled glass that looked just like water. The fishes’ scales were iridescent, and the faces on Christ and the men He’d called to become His disciples had been painted with undeniable artistry. “Incredible.”
“You like it?” She watched him eagerly, clearly wanting to see his reaction.
“That belongs in a museum.”
“There is a second one.” The implicit offer came out in a shy admission.
“Show me!”
She left his side, went to another crank, and raised another piece off a nearby sturdy table. In the foreground, a young sailor gripped a ship’s wheel. Jesus stood behind him, one hand on the sailor’s shoulder, the other extended, pointing the way. The thin black paint stroked on the glass gave grain to the “wood,” folds to the “cloth,” and strands to “hair.”
“You’re such a wonderful artist. What will you do for my house?”
Lorelei gave him a wary look.
“You don’t just do religious windows, do you? What about something old-fashioned?”
“You would have to show me which window.” She still looked less than eager.
“Lorelei—I’d like to call you by your given name, if you don’t mind.” She nodded her permission. “I couldn’t put you in a dangerous situation. I worried you might get hurt, climbing a ladder and trying to glaze the windows.”
“That is not the only reason.” She turned away. Her shoulders were hiked clear up to her ears with the tension that sang through her. “I would not have a lie between us. It is better to be honest, even when it hurts.”
He sighed. “All right. I’m sure you guessed it anyway. Your mom and I had a discussion. You’ve got a tender heart, Lorelei. I decided to keep my distance because I don’t want my bitterness to poison you.”
“Then why are you here now?”
“Because Pinkus showed me how I can remove the window frames and bring them to you. You’ll be working from home, and I won’t show up if I’m in a bad mood.”
She looked doubtful, so he pressed, “Next week, while the men are working on your roof and chimney, you and your mom can come to my place. You can number all of the windows and measure them. We can decide on some of the places to hang some of these masterpieces, then we’ll all go to town and buy whatever glass and supplies you’ll need.”
“Tell me, Mr. Diamond—”
“Russell. Call me Russell.”
“Tell me, Russell.” She paused as if to bolster her nerve, then blurted out, “Do you really want us at your home? Many do not, because they think we are German.”
“I’m English and Irish; you’re German. We’re both American.”
His answer came too quickly—as if he’d rehearsed it. Lorelei paused. Do I want to pursue this or let it go?
He shifted his weight and looked uncomfortable. Her silence must have prodded him because he began to speak again. “I admit, the first time you spoke and I heard your accent, it surprised me.”
“It was not a happy surprise.”
He exhaled slowly. “No, it wasn’t. I won’t bother lying. Heines. Huns. Krauts. I’ve heard it all, and I’ve even said it myself. Living like a rat in trenches, soldiers are crude and desperate. They have to build up hatred so they can kill the enemy. It isn’t easy to come home and hear echoes of your enemy in your neighbor’s voice.”
Chapter 10
I am not your enemy.”
“Of course you aren’t. I’ve come to know that full well.” Russell’s features tautened.
“I’ve seen the gold star in your window. I know you’ve paid the ultimate price for our country.”
Lorelei bowed her head. Her eyes and nose stung with tears. “Papa wanted to go. He loved America and wanted to help.”
Russell cleared his throat. “Then there’s no problem with me hiring you to replace my windows or commission stained glass—unless you’re already backlogged.”
“Fishers of Men was the last piece I had on order.” She pasted a brave smile on her face and hoped he wouldn’t ask why she didn’t have stacks of orders waiting. Before the war, they’d always been backlogged with commissions; now, no one wanted to do business with German Americans.
Russell nodded. “It’s selfish, but I’m glad. I need you to work for me.”
“I am able to start on your house right away.”
“I have to go get paint in a few days. We can pick up some windowpanes while we’re at it. How do you keep the glass from breaking when you transport it?”
“It’s not easy. Sometimes one of the neighbors who has a motorcar drives for me. When we moved here, I layered straw in the bed of a wagon, then laid the glass between our blankets.” She cast a glance at the noodle-drying racks. “The pieces that broke, I kept. I can use them still.”
“Are you able to match glass?”
“Sometimes. Why do you ask?”
“There’s a leaded-glass window in the parlor that has a few bars of color here and there. I like the effect, but about half of the window is broken. Temporarily, I’ll have you replace the whole thing with plain glass, but eventually I’d like to have you restore it.”
“If you show me, I can see what kind of glass it is. Even if there is none in town, we could put in a special order. I should warn you, red glass is most expensive. Gold is used to make the red glass, thought it would not seem so to look at it.”
He gave her a look she couldn’t interpret, and Lorelei felt gauche for having to broach the subject. “You have much work to do, and the cost must be a great burden. I wanted to let you know so I can keep my windows for you affordable.”
“I see.”
“I could replace the regular windows for you first, because those will be cheapest. When the new garden plot begin
s to yield a harvest, Mama and I can sell your share or can it for you, and you will end up with a little bit more money.”
He scanned her workshop and pointed at a dowel. “What are those metal, snakelike things?”
“Lead cames. They are the channels the glass fits into and come in different widths and shapes. The U shape is for the edges, and the H shape is for the middle.” She smiled. “Like when you put together a puzzle—the inside pieces must have nooks and crannies to hold on to one another, but the border must be smooth.”
“When I got here, you were using solder and flux.”
“Yes.” Such an intelligent man, gathering information so he can calculate the costs of materials. “When I do more delicate work, I sometimes use copper foil. If you have any lamps which are in need of repair, that would probably be the technique I would employ.”
“Where do you buy all of this stuff?”
“The store is starting to order it for me again.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Lorelei regretted them.
Russell’s eyes narrowed. “Starting to? What does that mean?”
“It is of no consequence now.”
He tilted her face up to his. “They persecuted you for being German, didn’t they?”
“No longer. And during the time I needed things, Mr. Bayley was most helpful. He very kindly used his connections with stores in other towns to obtain whatever I lacked.”
“So the old codger is really a guardian angel in disguise, huh?”
Russell’s tone was warm and rich with approval, so the words didn’t seem disrespectful in the least. Lorelei smiled and nodded.
“We’ll go to town day after tomorrow.” She detected a slight edge to his voice as he added, “Make a list. Don’t worry about which stores we’ll go to.”
“I need to ask Mama. She might need my help with the cooking or something.”
“Lorelei, it would have been dishonorable for me to come speak with you if I hadn’t already gotten her approval.”
“Oh.” She looked into his unfathomable eyes. “I did not mean to insult your integrity.”