Judith Miller - [Daughters of Amana 01] (32 page)

As if she’d read my thoughts, Louisa patted my hand. “Maybe now Bernie and I can come and visit. I would like for him to meet Emilie and Frank. It has been far too long since I’ve seen my sister.”

I didn’t know if my mother would welcome Bernie or Louisa, though I hoped she would relent. “Maybe we could pray about it each day and see where God leads.”

Louisa opened her fan and nodded. “I would be pleased to join you in praying about such a plan. I know Emilie is frightened she will lose you, and I understand her fear, but I want her to know that it isn’t my intent to steal you away from her. All I want is to be a small part of your life—as your Tante Louisa, not your Mutter.”

Relief swelled in my heart. Maybe if Mother realized that Louisa didn’t want me to come and live in Chicago, that she only wanted to visit from time to time and exchange occasional letters, perhaps she would set aside her fears. “Maybe if you wrote her a letter, I could take it back with me. That might help.”

Dust motes danced across the carpet as the late afternoon sun cast shards of light through the parlor window. “That’s an excellent idea, Johanna.” She waved the glossy hand-painted fan in front of her face. “This room is far too warm. Let’s open some windows.” Without waiting for my response, she strode across the room, pushed aside the lace curtains, and lifted one of the windows. “You open one on the other side, and we’ll get a cross breeze.” She grinned. “At least I hope we will.” After she’d once again settled in her chair, she said, “Now tell me about your life. I want to hear everything—especially what made you decide to accept Wilhelm and Larissa’s invitation to come for a visit.”

I gulped. How did one go about relating her entire life? I would bore her to death. At least she understood life in Amana so I wouldn’t need to explain all of those details. I decided a brief overview would be best. When I finished, she appeared relieved and satisfied.

“It sounds much like the life I had as a young girl—except I had to deal with the death of my parents. But Frank and Emilie were good to me, and I enjoyed my years with Wilhelm and little Pieter. He was so young when I left, but such a sweet boy. I doubt you remember him at all.”

I shook my head. “I was only two when he died, but I know he and Wilhelm were very close. Vater still talks about what good friends they were—not like lots of boys who fight with their brothers. He told me Wilhelm always protected Pieter, from the time he was a baby.”

Once again her eyes clouded. “I’m sure that’s why Wilhelm left Amana. He couldn’t live with the guilt.” She placed her fan on the side table. “Guilt is such a terrible thing—it destroys us from the inside out. Bernie’s mother was the one who helped me realize I needed to ask for God’s forgiveness and relieve myself of the guilt I’d lived with since the day you were born. Once I was able to do that, my past was easier to bear.”

I was trying to follow the conversation but wasn’t having much success. What guilt had caused Wilhelm to leave Amana? Was it due to the secret about me? I was doubtful he’d be moved to such extreme measures when he’d played no part in the decision.

“I’ve tried to convince Wilhelm that prayer is the answer, but he isn’t convinced. Instead, he tried to ease his guilt about Pieter by leaving Amana. Unfortunately, he replaced one guilt with another. Now he struggles because he feels he deserted the rest of the family.”

I tried to digest what Louisa had said, but her explanation made no sense. “Pieter? Why would Wilhelm feel any guilt about Pieter?”

Louisa’s brow pinched together. “You don’t know how Pieter died?”

“Yes, of course. He drowned when he fell through the ice while skating, but Wilhelm wasn’t responsible.”

Louisa sighed. “The day Pieter died, your father and some of the other men had gone to the river early in the morning to cut ice. The river wasn’t completely frozen in the areas farther from the bank. After school, Pieter told Wilhelm he was going to go ice-skating and asked Wilhelm to tell your mother and father. Wilhelm did as Pieter requested, but your father sent him after Pieter to warn him not to go on the river. On the way, several of Wilhelm’s friends called to him, and he stopped to talk with them for a few minutes. By the time Wilhelm arrived at the river, Pieter had fallen through the ice and drowned.” Louisa’s voice faltered. “He raced for help, but it was too late.”

“But he can’t blame himself—”

“When your father asked if he’d gone and warned Pieter, Wilhelm said that he’d gone directly to the river, but Pieter had ignored him. So you see, it’s not only the fact that Wilhelm believes he could have saved Wilhelm but also the lie he has lived with all these years that drove him away from Amana and your parents. Each time he goes home, he relives that incident, and a deeper wedge is driven between him and your parents and the life he’d enjoyed for all those years.

I sat back, stunned at the revelation. Yet another secret from the past had reared its ugly head—a secret that should have been exposed many years ago. How could forgiveness and healing ever come to pass in the midst of lies and deceit? My heart ached for Wilhelm, and it ached for my parents, as well. All these years they had somehow blamed themselves for Wilhelm’s departure, always wondering what they had done and why they’d lost both of their sons.

“How very sad.” Though I did my best, I couldn’t summon anything more to say. I longed to embrace Wilhelm and tell him our parents would forgive him if he’d simply ask—that
God
would forgive him if he’d simply ask. Why had he chosen all these years of pain rather than telling the truth?

“Yet he told you,” I said.

She nodded. “I was safe. I had secrets of my own. Besides, he knew I’d never return to Amana and tell your parents. And you must not tell them, either, Johanna. This is Wilhelm’s heartache. He is the one who must decide how it will be resolved.”

I knew she was correct, but I wondered if I would be as good at keeping secrets as the rest of my family. I would do my best to keep Wilhelm’s confidence, yet I didn’t believe we should continue this legacy of deceit.

CHAPTER 24

Amana Colonies, Iowa
Berta Schumacher

Johanna had been gone only three days, yet it seemed much longer because I’d already suffered loneliness while her brother and his wife were here visiting. Sister Muhlbach permitted me time for a brief visit with Johanna before she left town, but it wasn’t long enough to say all the things that were on my heart. And I’d never been able to question her about Karin’s visit, which annoyed me in the extreme—especially since Rudolf came bearing tales of Carl’s broken heart the day after Johanna departed.

I’d tried to question Sister Ilg, but she sealed her lips at the mere mention of Johanna’s name. There was little doubt she was keeping a secret, but I couldn’t convince her to talk to me. Rudolf promised to question Carl about Karin’s visit, but with less help in the Küche, my time with Rudolf was limited. When he delivered the milk earlier in the morning, he whispered to meet him near the dairy barn on my way to the garden this afternoon. I hoped he could shed some light on what had happened.

No doubt I’d need to be mindful of my time away from the Küche. If Sister Muhlbach had her way, there wouldn’t be time for any visiting or a stop at the store. Three new families, a total of fourteen additional mouths to feed, had been assigned to our kitchen over the past few days, and the demand was taking its toll on all of us.

Sister Muhlbach banged a metal serving spoon against one of the soup pots. “You’re daydreaming again, Berta. Put those potatoes on to cook, or we won’t have food to serve when the bell rings!”

There was no denying both Sister Muhlbach and I had resorted to our old ways. She shouted and nagged, and I was sullen and lazy. Guilt nagged from time to time. I had promised Johanna I’d do my best, but I no longer wanted to please Sister Muhlbach or hear her kind words. Instead, I wanted to be released from the daily drudgery inside the kitchen. I longed for some sort of normalcy, though I no longer could define what that might be. More than anything, I wanted my father and Johanna to return.

Each day as I delivered the midafternoon repast to the garden workers, I stopped at the general store to see if a letter had arrived from my father. Each day I was disappointed. To make matters worse, my mother provided little solace. Father’s absence didn’t appear to bother her in the least.

“Did you hear me, Berta?” Once again Sister Muhlbach’s voice interrupted my thoughts. I glared into the pan of potatoes. Instead of hollering across the kitchen, she could have looked at the stove and seen that I’d followed her order.

Heat from the stove spiraled upward, and perspiration beaded across my forehead. “I don’t have the power to make the water boil any faster.”

Using a long-handled spoon, Sister Muhlbach pointed in my direction. “You need to tame that tongue of yours, Berta.”

I grabbed the basket of lettuce, carried it to the dry sink, and dumped the contents into a bucket of water. Before I could begin to wash the leaves, Sister Muhlbach stomped to my side.

“Now look what you’ve done. You poured all the dirt from the basket into the clean water.” Cupping her hands together, she scooped the dripping lettuce out of the bucket. “Empty this dirty water and refill the bucket. And be quick about it.”

Bucket in hand, I walked into the backyard and heaved the dirty water toward the shed.

“Hey! Watch where you’re throwing that water.”

I took a backward step as a man I’d never before seen stepped forward. The legs of his britches were wet from the knees downward.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” I stammered. “What are you doing back there?” I guessed he must be one of the hobos who passed through town looking for occasional work and a free meal. Either that or he’d recently been hired as summer help and no one had bothered to tell me.

“Got hired this morning. Sister Muhlbach set me to work cleaning the chicken coop.”

“From the outside in?”

He laughed. “I was sitting out here resting for a while.” Using his thumb, he gestured over his shoulder toward the chicken coop. “How long’s it been since that coop was cleaned?”

“Not so long that you’d need to rest before you got the job done. You better not let Sister Muhlbach catch you sitting around or you won’t be working here for long.” The warning didn’t seem to bother him much, because he didn’t move an inch. “What’s your name?”

“Henry. Henry Barton.” He pushed his floppy-brimmed hat back on his head. “I been working around here for three or four summers now—then I head south for the winter. Don’t much like the cold weather. Last summer I worked at the dairy barn over in South. Nice folks over there. They didn’t throw water at me.”

“If they were so nice, how come you didn’t go back there this summer?”

“Figured there might be something different to see here. Don’t like to stay in the same place twice unless I have to.” He grinned.

“And if I would have stayed in South, I never would have met you.”

I squared my shoulders. “You still haven’t met me, Mr. Barton.”

“Berta! Where’s that water?” Sister Muhlbach’s question echoed from the kitchen door.

“Coming,” I shouted in return.

In five long strides Mr. Barton was at the pump. “You hold the bucket, and I’ll have it full for ya in no time.”

Once the bucket was full, I lifted it by the handle. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome. Nice to meet you, Sister Berta.” He tipped his hat and chuckled.

His laughter was a welcome sound to my ears. I hadn’t heard the pleasing sound for far too long. I suppressed the grin that twitched in my cheek and hurried back inside. I lifted the sloshing bucket of water into the sink. While I cleaned the lettuce, I decided Mr. Barton might provide a welcome change to my tiresome daily schedule. His presence had already improved my spirits.

During the kitchen cleaning that followed the noonday meal, I remained focused on my work. I didn’t want my delivery job assigned to someone else. I scoured the pots and pans, and when all the utensils had been dried, I hung them from their assigned hooks along the wall. I didn’t even complain when Sister Muhlbach told me I’d be scrubbing the cheese rounds.

“If you don’t daydream, you’ll have time to complete the task before you go to the garden. I’ll send two of the young girls to help.” She ordered me to the cellar to begin lugging the crocks upstairs. “If you don’t get done, Sister Dickel can make the garden delivery.”

Everyone disliked scrubbing the rounds of hand cheese, and it seemed I’d been assigned the smelly job more often than not. This batch of cheese had been made before I arrived in Amana, but Johanna had explained the procedure to me. I was glad I had missed the process, but I’d soon decided scrubbing the rounds was as bad as pressing milk curds through a sieve, adding salt, and kneading the mixture until it reached the proper consistency.

The cheese rounds were flattened and set to dry before being packed in crocks that were stored in the cellar, where they remained until mold formed. After that first mold had been scraped from the cheese, the crocks were returned to the cellar. Only when the second batch of mold appeared did I learn of the washing process.