Judith Miller - [Daughters of Amana 01] (33 page)

Johanna had taught me how to scrub the rounds with a stiff brush, a time-consuming and smelly process that had to be repeated once or twice a week until Sister Muhlbach declared the cheese rind had attained the proper golden color. Only she could decide when the cheese had properly aged. And obviously it hadn’t turned the proper shade just yet. I hoped the cheese would soon attain the proper glow, for I quickly tired of this job.

“Have the new man fill the tub. His name is Mr. Barton,” Sister Muhlbach called after me as I walked outside.

Mr. Barton apparently heard her, as well, for he loped across the yard and doffed his hat in greeting. “Need some help filling that tub, I hear.”

“Yes, thank you. How’s your work in the chicken coop coming along? Done yet?”

He should have completed the job long before we’d served the noonday meal, but most of the hired men didn’t exert themselves too much. Still, at times such as this, their strong arms and backs were appreciated.

With a crooked grin he grasped the pump handle. “I’ll have it done by this evening, for sure. Don’t wanna disturb the chickens too much, or they’ll quit laying.”

I laughed as water splattered into the tub. “I don’t know if Sister Muhlbach will accept that excuse, but it’s a good one. Once you finish you can set that tub over on the table.” It wasn’t a table in the true sense of the word, but a heavy wood board had been bolted onto sawhorses, and it served the purpose. The heavy cheese crocks were placed at one end to balance the washtub at the other.

Mr. Barton disappeared once he’d lifted the tub into place. I didn’t blame him. The smell of the chicken coop would be preferable to the odor of this reeking cheese.

“I wish I could plug my nose while we do this,” one of the girls said.

“We could try one of the clothes pegs, but I think it would hurt,” the other one replied.

“Breathe through your mouth instead of your nose. That’s the only thing that helps me. The faster we work, the sooner we can get away from the smell.”

I kept the two girls working at a steady pace until they had to return and help with summer sessions at the school. We’d finished all but two crocks when they left me on my own. If I fell behind, Sister Dickel would be on her way to the garden instead of me, and I wasn’t going to let that happen. My hands were rough and red by the time I’d finished all but the final crock. One look at the position of the sun and I knew I had to make a decision. There wasn’t time to scrub the cheese rounds in the final crock.

“Mr. Barton! Could you come and help me?”

The hired man poked his head from inside the chicken coop.

“You call me?”

“Yes. Could you empty the water and carry these crocks to the cellar for me?”

He sauntered to the worktable and surveyed the area. “What about that one down there?” He pointed to the final crock at the end of the table. “You gonna wash those?”

“They’re already done,” I said.

He furrowed his brows, and I knew he didn’t believe me. “If you say so. Any special place you want me to put ’em in the cellar?”

I quickly explained where they should go and asked him to dump the wash water and to store the table in the shed. I thanked him and turned on my heel.

“You sure you washed the rounds in that last crock? Don’t look like it’s moved an inch since you brought it up here.”

His insistent questions annoyed me. I stomped over to the crock and moved it several inches. “There! Does that make you feel better?”

He doffed his hat and dropped it atop the table. “Ain’t me you need to make feel better. You’re the one who said Sister Muhlbach didn’t accept excuses. Just trying to look out for ya.”

“Just carry the crocks to the cellar, Mr. Barton. I’ll worry about Sister Muhlbach.”

He scratched his head and slapped the felt hat back on his head. “Whatever you say.”

There wasn’t time for an argument. I hurried inside. “I’m done. Should I pack the basket?”

Sister Muhlbach shook her head, and for a moment I thought she was going to tell me Sister Dickel had already gone to the garden. Instead, she motioned toward the far table. “I’ve already packed it. You can go now.” I retrieved the basket and was at the door when she said, “Don’t waste any time. There’s much work that needs to be finished before supper.”

I didn’t reply. If I’d said what I was thinking, I’d be in trouble for weeks. However, I didn’t plan on hurrying. I’d worked hard all day. Besides, it had been far too long since I’d visited with Rudolf. Now that I was getting out of the kitchen, I had no plans to rush my visit.

I hummed a tune as I strode toward the garden, glad for freedom from my boring chores. To my great pleasure, Sister Nusser was out in the garden with the other workers when I arrived. I placed the basket inside the shed on a worktable and turned to leave. I heard Sister Nusser call to me, but the wide brim of my sunbonnet blocked her from view. Keeping my head bowed low, I continued to walk away from the garden. I didn’t have time for Sister Nusser and her nosy questions—not today.

Once I was out of earshot, I slowed my pace and cut around to the far side of the dairy barn, where I caught sight of Rudolf. He was slouched against the siding with his arms folded across his chest. When he saw me approach, he pushed away and straightened his shoulders.

I peeked around the doorway. “Is anyone in there?”

“We’re alone, but it’s probably better if we stay out here so we can hear anyone coming this way.” He pointed toward an old wagon that was sitting in the shade of the barn. “Want to sit over there?”

I nodded and followed him, surprised when he turned and lifted me onto the back of the wagon. He hoisted himself up beside me and grinned. “You haven’t been yourself lately. I’ve been worried about you.” He touched my cheek with his finger. “I miss seeing you smile.”

“There hasn’t been much to smile about.” It didn’t take much prodding for me to sing my tale of woe. I ended the sad story with the cheese-scrubbing incident from only a short while ago. “I can’t get along with Sister Muhlbach. One day she’s nice, and the next day she’s mad as a wet hen.”

“I can just see her flying around that kitchen.” He made a clucking noise and flapped his arms up and down until I laughed at his silly gyrations. “That’s better. I finally hear some laughter.”

“If only Johanna would come back,” I lamented.

“You sound just like Carl. That’s all I hear from him, too. It’s not even a week since she left. Let her enjoy her time in Chicago. She’ll be back.” The odors from the barn carried on the breeze, and he grinned when I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t like the smell, do you?”

“It doesn’t smell as bad as the
Handkäse
I had to scrub earlier today.” I scooted a little closer. “I want to know what happened between Johanna and Carl before she left. What has he told you?”

“It wasn’t gut.” He wasted no time in telling me that Johanna had walked in and caught Karin and Carl in an embrace.

I slapped my hand across my lips, unable to believe Carl would do such a thing. “I thought he truly cared for Johanna.”

“It wasn’t what it looked like. Carl and Karin have been dear friends since they were small children. Karin confided that her mother has developed problems with her mind.” Rudolf touched his index finger to his head. “She’s become confused, and part of the time she doesn’t even know Karin. As she was explaining her mother’s condition, Karin began to cry. Carl was just trying to comfort her.”

I curled my lip. “He should have comforted her from a distance. Then he wouldn’t be in such a pickle.”

“Johanna should have permitted him an opportunity to explain; then there wouldn’t be all this misunderstanding.” He cupped my chin and gently turned my head. “You would have given me a chance to explain, wouldn’t you?”

“I would have kicked you in the shins. Then, maybe, I would have given you a chance to state your case. We’re different from Johanna and Carl—we’re good friends. But Carl had stated his intent to court Johanna. And Carl and Karin had been much more than childhood friends; they had talked of marriage. To discover them locked in an embrace would be dreadful. I can only imagine Johanna’s humiliation.”

Rudolf sighed. “Only Karin talked of marriage—not Carl.

Besides, I told you it wasn’t like that.”

“You don’t have to convince me. It’s Johanna that needs to be swayed. And he better not wait too long, or she’ll decide to remain in Chicago.”

What a shambles Carl had created. Why hadn’t he beaten on the Ilgs’ apartment door until Johanna let him come in and explain? If he’d been persistent, maybe Johanna wouldn’t have gone to Chicago.

“Carl wrote a letter and explained. Now he must wait to see if she’ll believe him. Sister Ilg gave him Wilhelm’s address,” Rudolf said.

I was no expert on matters of the heart, but I thought it would take more than a written explanation to convince Johanna. “Promise you’ll tell me if Carl receives a letter, and I’ll tell you if she writes to me and mentions him.”

“Agreed.”

“I’d like to stay and talk, but I want to stop by the store to see if there’s any mail from my father. I’ve already been gone longer than usual, and Sister Muhlbach won’t be happy.”

Rudolf jumped from the wagon bed and assisted me down. “I’ll let you know the next time I’ll be here in the afternoon so we can meet and talk some more.” He grinned. “Unless you want to meet me out in the backyard again.”

I shook my head. “My mother isn’t sleeping well, and she paces the parlor half the night. She’d catch me, for sure. Besides, it’s too hard for me to get up and go to work if I’m up during the night.”

“That’s because you’ve become an old woman.”

I gave him a lighthearted slap on the arm. “If so, it’s because I’m required to work hard and put in longer hours than the hired help.”

He chuckled and gestured toward the dairy barn. “After you’ve tried working in there, I’ll be happy to listen to your complaints about kitchen duties.”

“I’ll pass on that offer,” I said and skipped off toward the general store with guarded hope that I’d find a letter from my father.

CHAPTER 25

My life hadn’t been going well of late. At least not according to Sister Muhlbach. I’d taken far too long returning from the garden the past two days. She had threatened to speak with the elders if my unruly behavior continued. It wasn’t her threat that gave me pause but a remembrance of my promise to Johanna. Last evening at prayer service I asked God to forgive me. Not for anything I’d done, but for breaking my promise to my friend. Truth be told, I’d been confused about how to pray.

I hadn’t promised God I’d try to do better; I’d promised Johanna. Yet God was the one who offered ultimate forgiveness. This whole prayer and forgiveness thing could be quite confusing. Finally I’d silently told God I was sorry I hadn’t kept my word to Johanna. And I was sorry. I just wasn’t certain I could do better.

With each passing day, I resolved to do better. I truly wanted to keep my word, but determination took flight when boredom or loneliness set in. Johanna would be disappointed when she discovered my lack of success. God already knew my misdeeds, and He was probably disappointed, too.

From my vantage point at the window above the kitchen sink, I could see Sister Dickel and Sister Muhlbach in the backyard. They were deep in conversation and looked in my direction. I held my breath and waited. I knew I would soon be required to join them.

“Berta!” The older sister shouted so loud the chickens squawked and raced around the yard as if they feared they might be chosen for the stewpot. With halting steps I exited the Küche. Sister Muhlbach glowered and waved me forward. “Come down here. Now!”

My heart thumped into a quickstep as I joined the two women in the yard. There was no doubt my offense had been discovered. They exchanged a look, but it was Sister Muhlbach who bent forward, reached into one of the crocks, and lifted a cheese round. She thrust the moldy round forward and held it beneath my nose. One whiff of the cheese and I turned my head, opened my mouth, and gulped a breath of fresh air. I stared at Sister Muhlbach and waited. I’d had enough confrontations in my early years to learn the worst thing one could do was to blurt out an apology or confess to a transgression.

Sister Muhlbach shoved the round a little closer. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Berta?”

I shook my head.

She heaved a disgusted sigh and removed another round from one of the crocks. “Do you notice a difference between these two rounds of cheese?”

“Maybe a little,” I said, determined to remain noncommittal.

She turned and plunked the cheese on the table with a thud. At that exact moment Mr. Barton appeared from inside the shed. Sister Muhlbach jolted to attention. “Come over here, Mr. Barton.”

Shoulders slouched, the handyman shuffled across the yard. I did my best to capture his attention, but he wouldn’t look my way. I could only hope he’d protect me.

Sister Muhlbach pointed to the two rounds of cheese she’d placed on the table. “Do you see any difference in these two pieces of cheese?”

“ ’Course I do,” he muttered.

“And what would that be, Mr. Barton?”