Judith Miller - [Daughters of Amana 01] (29 page)

I was thankful conversation was frowned upon during mealtime. With only clanking utensils breaking the stillness in the dining room, I wanted nothing more than silence and time to think. Though my thoughts remained a jumble of confusion, I tried my best to assemble my questions.

We were on the way home after supper when my father motioned me to walk beside him. “Carl tells me he needs to talk to you about what happened today.”

“Did he explain what occurred?”

Vater pushed his straw hat further back on his head. “He said you came into the barn while he was talking to one of his friends from High and that you became angry.”

“Ach! Talking to one of his friends? Is that what he said?”

“Ja. There is more?”

“Of course there is more. Why would I be angry if he was talking to a friend? He was embracing a woman—and not just any woman. It was Karin. The woman who had hoped to marry him before he moved to our village.” I kicked a pebble and watched it drop between the wood slats of the walkway.

He pulled me to a halt. “This is true?”

I heard the disbelief in his voice.

His gaze turned cold. “Carl never spoke of unsuitable behavior with another woman.”

“Would I say such a thing if it wasn’t true? I wouldn’t invent such a story. Why would I want to?” My anger boiled beneath the surface. Why hadn’t my father questioned Carl’s story instead of mine, his own daughter’s? “You can believe Carl or you can believe me. The choice is yours.”

I yanked away from him and hurried to catch up with Larissa and Wilhelm. “I told Vater about Carl,” I whispered to Larissa. “I don’t know if he believes me.” There wasn’t time to elaborate any further.

Mother glanced over her shoulder. “Why all the whispering?”

“We were speaking about Carl,” I said.

My mother smiled. The mention of Carl was enough to allay any further questions from her. I doubted she’d be so pleased when I told her about his behavior earlier in the day. We filed into the parlor and sat down.

“You still plan to leave Saturday, Wilhelm?” My father leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms across his thighs.

My brother nodded. “I thought we’d leave for Homestead Saturday after the noonday meal. I want to visit some of the folks over there. Larissa and I will stay overnight at the hotel and leave for Chicago the following morning.” Wilhelm glanced in my direction. “We have invited Johanna to return with us—for a visit.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Wilhelm had decided in my favor. I flashed him a smile.

My mother paled. “You see, Frank? I told you this would happen.”

Wilhelm scooted forward on his chair. “What would happen, Mutter?”

“I told your Vater that Johanna would leave us one day. Just like you, she’ll go off to the city, marry someone who will keep her away from her family, and never look back.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “I’ll grow old without any of my children.”

“Larissa isn’t the reason I haven’t returned to visit. She’s encouraged me to visit and has asked to come and meet you. Place the blame on my shoulders, not hers. This is not her fault. Even before we married, I didn’t come home but once or twice. You know that is true.”

My mother’s lips tightened into a knot. She didn’t want to acknowledge the truth of what he’d said. She wanted to blame Larissa. It was easier than thinking her son didn’t want to visit his family. Ignoring his explanation, she turned in my direction. “You have agreed to go with them?”

“Ja. I want to see the city, and I want to meet Louisa.”

Mother’s hands trembled as she looked at Wilhelm.

“She knows about Louisa, Mutter,” Wilhelm said.

“Of course she does. She has always known that her Tante Louisa lives in Chicago. Haven’t you, Johanna?”

Wilhelm stretched forward and touched her hand. “Johanna knows Louisa is her Mutter.”

She jerked away. “
I
am Johanna’s Mutter. I have cared for her since her birth.” Her eyes implored me to take stock of what she’d said. “Do you hear me, Johanna? I am your Mutter. Even if I didn’t give birth to you, I am your Mutter, not Louisa.” Tears rimmed her eyes. “I told you, Frank, this would happen.” Suddenly she turned on Wilhelm. “Why have you done this to me, Wilhelm? It was Louisa, wasn’t it? She wanted you to tell Johanna?”

Larissa grasped Wilhelm’s sleeve. “It wasn’t Wilhelm’s fault. I told Johanna—by mistake. I didn’t mean to. I’m so very sorry. It just slipped out.” She rattled on like a frightened child.

My mother rocked back in her chair and pinned Wilhelm with a glare. “You told Larissa about Johanna?”

“She’s my wife. We don’t keep secrets. Besides, we see Louisa and her husband frequently, and—”

She held up her hand and interrupted him. “So Louisa’s husband knows, as well?”

“He does.”

My mother massaged her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “This is awful. Both you and Louisa promised to never tell anyone. Both of you broke your promise. Now we must suffer the consequences.”

“If you had told the truth from the beginning, none of this would have happened,” I said. “There is enough blame to go around, Mutter.”

“But since you are going to Chicago, it is your Vater and me who will be punished.”

“I’m not trying to punish anyone. I want to meet Louisa. I want to get away from Carl. I need time to think and decide about my future.”

“Why do you need to get away from Carl?”

Once again I explained what had happened in the barn. Once again there was an air of disbelief that Carl could do such a thing. In truth, I’d been as overwhelmed by his behavior as my parents were now. If I hadn’t seen for myself, I wouldn’t have believed it. His actions had been in direct opposition to everything he’d said and done since arriving in the village.

“I think it will be best for me to be away for a time. When I return, maybe Carl will have moved back to High. That would be better for his Mutter—and for me.” I wanted to add that it would probably please Karin, as well, but I held my tongue.

“It would not be so gut for your Vater. He has grown to depend upon Carl. And the elders would ask for some explanation.” She knew I’d understand that she didn’t want to face the embarrassment Carl’s departure would create. There would be questions if Carl moved back to High. Questions she’d find difficult to answer.

“Maybe he should tell them the truth. If Carl has had a change of heart and loves Karin, he should tell the elders he wants to marry her and return to High.”

“What if he wants to marry Karin and remain here? Will you still come home?” My mother’s knuckles faded to pure white as she locked her fingers in a tight grip.

“I don’t know what will happen in Chicago, but I will return home before I make a final decision.” My response wasn’t exactly what my mother wanted, but it appeased her for the moment.

“We can’t stop you from going with your brother, Johanna, but I hope you will speak to Carl before you leave for Chicago,” Father said.

“There is nothing I want to say to him.”

I saw the disappointment in my father’s eyes. Normally that look would be enough to change my mind. Normally I would apologize. Normally I would acquiesce to his wishes. But not today, not this time.

The following evening brought a flutter of activity. While my parents and Wilhelm attended prayer service, Larissa and I stayed at home. I was certain Carl would be at prayer service, and that alone proved enough to keep me home. With Larissa’s help, I packed for the journey. By the time we’d completed the task, enough clothing remained in my drawers and wardrobe to assure my parents I would return.

Suddenly a knock sounded at the door. I glanced at the clock. It was time for prayer service to have ended. Surely Carl wouldn’t come to the door and expect me to speak with him. I considered asking Larissa to answer, but the pounding became more insistent, so I flung open the door.

Berta doubled forward and panted for breath. “Please tell me it’s a lie,” she gasped.

I encircled her waist and led her into the parlor. “Sit down and catch your breath.” I pulled her down beside me.

She inhaled, long and deep. “Tell me you’re not going to Chicago.” She paused long enough to gasp another breath of air. “Please tell me I misunderstood.” She clung to my hand while she uttered the panic-filled plea.

“I won’t be gone very long. Maybe three weeks.”

She dropped against the back of the sofa. “You’re planning to visit Chicago for that long?” When I nodded my head, she groaned. “If you stay three weeks, you’ll never come back.” She glared at Larissa. “You know I’m right.”

Larissa shrunk at the accusation. “She’s coming back. I don’t know if she’ll remain here for the rest of her life, but Johanna has promised her parents that she will return. I know she’ll keep her word.”

“First my father and now you. There is no one I can rely upon. And don’t tell me I can depend on my mother. Now that my father is in Chicago for his training, she’s home even less. And when she’s home, she’s withdrawn.” Berta’s angry words sliced through the air like a sharp knife.

I leaned toward Berta and pulled her into an embrace. “You have made great strides, Berta. It’s not me you should rely upon—it’s God who will provide you the comfort you need. Unlike me, He will always be there.”

She yanked free of my hold. “That’s not the same, and you know it. God doesn’t answer my questions or calm Sister Muhlbach. God doesn’t walk to work with me each morning or teach me how to wash clothes.”

“You’re correct about the clothes washing—I don’t believe God has an instruction manual for that. But He does answer prayers if you’ll take time to talk to Him. And you must admit that Sister Muhlbach has been much kinder and more helpful to you of late. I believe God has softened her heart toward you.” I squeezed her hand. “Of course, it has helped that your behavior has improved, and I hope that won’t change while I’m gone. Promise me you’ll do your very best.”

Berta pinched her lips into a tight seam and glared at me.

“Please?”

She slowly wilted and gave a faint nod. “I promise to try, but you know it will be hard with you gone.”

I leaned to the side and pulled her into an embrace. “Thank you, Berta. I know you’ll make me proud.”

The muffled sound of my parents’ voices drifted through the open windows, and Berta jumped up from the sofa, her cheeks streaked with tears. “If you have time, I’d like to talk to you before you leave. I have a gift for you, and I want an address where I can write to you.”

“I’ll write it down and give it to you at breakfast tomorrow,” Larissa said, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. Obviously, she hoped the gesture would appease Berta and help to make amends.

“Thank you.” Head hung low, Berta shuffled to the door. She turned to face me, her unfastened bonnet strings draped against her bodice. “I’ll miss you, Johanna. More than you can ever imagine.”

The pain and sadness in her face pierced my heart. “I’ll be back, Berta. I promise you, I’ll be back.”

CHAPTER 23

Chicago, Illinois

The journey to Chicago was exciting, although my thoughts had traveled back to Amana with the frequency of the changing scenery. During the early portion of the trip I read some of the poems in the leather-bound book Berta had given me at breakfast. She’d wrapped it in brown paper and tied a twine bow in the center. When I’d tried to refuse it, she’d insisted and told me she had planned to use the gift as an enticement to get some of my
Godey’s
periodicals. But since I was leaving, she wanted me to have it for the train ride. “You can’t open it until you’re on the train,” she’d told me. I unwrapped the package only a short distance from Amana and was touched by her thoughtfulness, though I still wondered where she’d gotten it.

The poems proved a quiet diversion for a time, but soon the rhythmic clack of the train’s wheels began to sound like my mother’s anguished pleas at the Homestead train station.
Promise you’ll return.
Promise you’ll return. Please don’t go. Please don’t go.
Over and over the words thrummed with the rhythm of the chugging train. Larissa maintained a stream of conversation, but it wasn’t enough to keep my thoughts from the painful good-bye with my parents or the meeting that lay ahead with Louisa. Finally the swaying motion lulled me into a restless sleep.