Judith Miller - [Daughters of Amana 01] (15 page)

The minute Sister Muhlbach was out of earshot, the other women offered their support but not their help. They knew better. Even Johanna maintained a safe distance, but when I’d finally completed the task, she agreed to inspect the area. I impatiently waited while she ran her fingers beneath the cabinet’s edge and around each leg of the worktable.

“You’ve done a fine job, Berta. I don’t think Sister Muhlbach can find any fault with your work.” Johanna’s words of encouragement bolstered my spirits.

I sidled close to her. “I wouldn’t have dropped the cottage cheese if Sister Muhlbach hadn’t frightened me out of my wits. This is more her fault than mine.”

Johanna gazed heavenward and sighed. “You shouldn’t place blame on others, Berta. What does the Bible say about such behavior?”

“I doubt it says anything. As far as I know, they didn’t have cottage cheese back then.” From the disappointed look on Johanna’s face, I knew my answer hadn’t pleased her. On the other hand, she knew I had little knowledge of the Bible. What kind of answer had she expected?

“Go home and do as Sister Muhlbach instructed.”

Johanna’s voice lacked its usual warmth. Unless I could somehow draw myself into her good graces, I’d ruined any chance of looking at her magazines. Once again my tongue had gotten ahead of my brain, and I silently chided myself on the walk home.

Streaks of sunshine filtered through the trees and danced across my stained clothing, but even the thought of scrubbing out dried cottage cheese didn’t detract from the beauty of the day. Though the distance to home wasn’t far, there was something surprisingly intoxicating about strolling down the street at this time of day. No watchful eyes, no harsh commands, no looming schedule. Nothing but freedom to go home and change clothes.

The walk home had taken longer than necessary. I’d stopped to smell blooming flowers and admired a bird’s nest along the way. Nothing I would have done while living in Chicago, yet here in Amana the actions proved strangely satisfying. I pressed down on the metal latch and entered the front hallway. The house was eerily quiet. I’d never before entered the house when no one else was at home. I closed the door and leaned against the hardwood door, listening. Not a sound.

I plodded upstairs, through the parlor, and into my bedroom. It didn’t take long to change my skirt and apron, but my shoes were in need of cleaning. I’d emptied my water pitcher that morning, but perhaps I’d find water in my parents’ room. I pulled open the door and crossed the room, grateful when I spied a few inches of water in the bottom of the china pitcher. I poured it into the bowl and glanced around the room for a cloth. I pulled open the top drawer of Father’s chest. One of his handkerchiefs would do.

When I’d cleaned the shoes to my satisfaction, I wadded up the handkerchief. I would wash it with my apron next Monday. Reaching to close the drawer, I stopped short when something gleamed in the rear corner of the drawer. Pushing aside the handkerchiefs, my breath caught at the sight. Two gold coins lay near a leather pouch that had fallen open. One peek inside told me that my father hadn’t turned over all of his assets when we’d joined the community.

In addition to several more gold pieces, the pouch contained loose gems and what appeared to be gold nuggets, though I couldn’t be certain. My breath came in short spasms, and confusion invaded every corner of my mind. What did this mean? Was our time here merely a trial period? Had Father lied to the elders about our assets, or was it common practice to withhold funds? Did Mother know?

Still holding one of the gold coins, I dropped to the chair and stared across the room, focusing on nothing. Until I heard the lowing of the cows lumbering down the street on their way to the barn, I couldn’t force myself to break the trance. What if Brother Ilg was with the cattle and stopped in at the house? My mouth turned dry. Jumping to my feet, I shoved the drawer closed and dropped the coin into my apron pocket.

There was no need to panic. Sister Muhlbach had sent me home to change clothes. If Brother Ilg came into the house, I had an approved reason for being there. After assuring myself I’d set things aright in my parents’ room, I waited in the parlor until the street cleared and then departed.

Shoving my hand into my apron pocket, my fingers curled around the gold coin. How lovely it would be to peruse the items in the general store and purchase something special, something Johanna might want to trade for a magazine. The thought brought me to a halt, and I turned back toward the house. If I skirted along the back of the houses, I wouldn’t be seen.

Moving with stealth and speed, I scuttled through the yards, keeping myself hidden along the bushes and trees. Though most folks were at work, some mothers remained at home with their children until they were old enough for Kinderschule. If one of them caught sight of me, I’d surely be reported to the elders or, even worse, to Sister Muhlbach.

The bell above the front door jingled in friendly greeting as I entered the store.

“
Guten Tag
, Sister Berta.”

Brother Kohler’s greeting was enough to set my thoughts awhirl. I hadn’t considered he might reveal I’d been here. “Guten Tag, Brother Kohler.”

“Sister Muhlbach has given you a rest from your duties in the Küche?”

He’d made an assumption. I didn’t agree or disagree. Instead, I let my gaze wander the store. “I was looking for a magazine or a book. Do you have anything like that?”

His back stiffened until it was as straight as a poker. “Periodicals and magazines? Not unless you want to read one of the farm journals. Brother Ilg has copies of those you could borrow.” His frown deepened. “Why would you have need of periodicals?”

“For my cousin’s birthday. I wanted to send her a gift.” It was, of course, a lie, but what was I to do? He shouldn’t have asked the question. Then I wouldn’t have had to lie.

He scratched his bald head and scanned the room. “What about a sewing kit in a leather case?”

“No. She isn’t keen on sewing.”

He gasped as though I’d pierced his heart. “Then she should learn! Every young woman needs to know how to sew. It would be the perfect gift for her.”

“I’m hoping to find something very unusual.”

“Maybe your cousin would like some of this lace I just received from Chicago.”

I shook my head. Johanna couldn’t possibly be enticed with lace. Amana women didn’t wear fancy trim on their clothes. “No,” I mumbled and continued down the aisle. Then, on one of the top shelves, I spotted what appeared to be a book. “What is that?” I pointed to the shelf.

My shout startled Brother Kohler, and he took a backward step before he glanced upward. He shook his head. “Oh, that is a book that was forgotten by a salesman last year. I thought he would return, but—”

“I want to buy it.”

“It isn’t for sale, Berta. What if the man should return?”

“You can give him the money if he returns. But if he hasn’t been back for a year, I doubt he’ll show up, don’t you?”

His frown deepened. “It may be unsuitable for your cousin, ja?”

“We won’t know until we look.” I wanted to grab the ladder and scale the wall myself, but I managed to maintain my decorum.

Though he huffed and puffed, Brother Kohler climbed the ladder and retrieved the book. He glanced at the cover as he stepped off the last rung of the ladder. “It is a book of poems and sonnets. At least that’s what the cover says.” He flipped open the book and nodded his head. “Poetry. In my estimation, she’d be better off reading the book of Psalms.”

“May I look at it?” I extended my open hand.

His jowls sagged, and his fingers tightened around the volume. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

Before he could further consider, I stretched forward and grasped the book from his clutches. It was in pristine condition, probably never opened by the salesman. I wondered if he’d purchased it as a gift for his wife or sweetheart. He’d probably removed it from his sales case while talking to Brother Kohler and accidentally left it behind. By now he would have purchased another gift. In my mind the matter had been resolved completely.

I looked inside the front cover and discovered I had enough money to purchase the book. “I’ll take it.” I pulled the coin from my pocket and thrust it toward him.

He stared at the coin. “How do you happen to have money, Berta?”

I swallowed hard. Yet another problematic question. “It was a gift from a relative.”
Another lie
. If Brother Kohler didn’t quit asking me questions, I was going to burn in hell. I should have realized he would be suspicious when I produced money to pay for the purchase. Only visitors paid with cash. Nobody who lived in Amana used money—our purchases were listed as credits by our names and deducted from the yearly stipend allotted to each family.

Brother Kohler pressed his thick thumb across the coin, and I wondered if he was going to clamp it between his teeth to determine if it was genuine. He was watching me from beneath hooded eyes, assessing my every move. I steadied myself and forced myself to look confident. At least I hoped that was how I appeared.

“I cannot give you any funds in return, but I can add the difference to your family’s account in the ledger. This would suit you?”

“No, that isn’t necessary. To have a nice gift to give to my cousin is all I wanted.”

“Then I will wrap it up and send it to her.” He rested his beefy palms on the counter. “That’s the least I could do, ja?”

“Oh, I’d much rather give it to her in person. I’m going to wait until we go back to Chicago or until she comes here for a visit.” His brows furrowed, and I was certain I detected a hint of disbelief in his eyes. “But if my father thinks I should mail it, I’ll bring it back to the store and have you take care of it for me. Thank you for the kind offer.”

I made a slight curtsy, which appeared to further confuse him. Book in hand, I attempted to make my escape. I’d nearly made it to the door when his shout echoed in my ears.

“Wait! Come back, Berta.”

I stopped in my tracks and made a slow pirouette. “Yes?” I clenched my fingers around the thick book cover as fear took up residence in the pit of my stomach.

He tapped the wooden cubbyholes where mail was distributed to the town’s residents. “I have a letter for your Vater. You can take it to him, ja?”

I exhaled a puff of air, and relief flooded over me. I hastened back to the counter, retrieved the letter, and hurried out of the store. I was on my way to the Küche when I realized I couldn’t take the book with me. I’d have to return home. I’d better have a good story ready for Sister Muhlbach, for she would surely question how long I’d been gone.

I retraced my steps along the rear of the neighbors’ houses until I reached home. Once inside, I scuttled up the stairs to my room. Panting for breath, I lifted the lid to the small leather trunk at the foot of my bed and buried the book beneath the clothing stored inside. I decided to prop Father’s letter on the small table in the parlor and examined the handwriting on the envelope as I carried it into the other room. I’d never before seen the delicate script. There was no name to indicate who it was from, only a street address in Chicago—one I didn’t recognize. I traced my fingernail over the beautifully shaped lines that formed my father’s name. Nobody but family knew we’d moved to Amana—that’s what Mother had told me the week after we’d arrived. Had father told someone else of our whereabouts?

Curiosity plagued me. I didn’t have time to weigh my decision right now, but the letter was too enticing to leave behind. I tucked the envelope into my skirt pocket. After I returned to work, I’d have time to think about what I should do.

CHAPTER 12

The smell of sausage wafted through the air and greeted me as I rounded the corner of the Küche. One whiff and my mouth watered. But at the sight of a glowering Sister Muhlbach standing on the back porch, my mouth turned as dry as parched dirt. There would be no slipping into the kitchen unobserved.

She examined everything from my shoes to the top of my head. “Did you have to sew a new skirt?”

The question unnerved me. “N-n-n-no.” I pressed my hand down the front of the calico. Of all the things she could have asked, I hadn’t expected such a silly inquiry. “You’ve seen this skirt before.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Ja, but you were gone so long I thought you decided to make a new frock.”

I’d missed her earlier sarcasm, but now it came through loud and clear. Why hadn’t she simply asked what had taken so long? When I opened my mouth to respond, she wagged her finger in front of my nose and pointed at the kitchen door.

“You can explain later. Right now, there is work piling up because of your selfish behavior.”

Selfish? I wasn’t selfish. A remembrance of my visit to the general store niggled at my conscience. Maybe I was a little selfish, but there were enough women in the kitchen to complete the work without me. Since my first day Sister Muhlbach had acted as though my presence was more hindrance than help. Strange that my brief absence should create such havoc.

In five elongated steps Johanna crossed the kitchen, her lips tightened into a pinched frown. “Where have you been, Berta?” Johanna’s question harbored no sarcasm. Instead, it bore accusation and anger. “Your selfish actions have set us behind in our preparations.”