A Hidden Truth (13 page)

“I promise to be careful.” I hesitated a moment. “Maybe we should try another English lesson tonight?”

Anton grinned. “After prayer meeting would be gut, ja?”

I bobbed my head, waved, and hurried toward the ice skates. I grabbed the pair Karlina had borrowed from her friend and slung them across my shoulder as if I'd been going skating for years. Disappointment assailed me the moment I turned toward the pond. To go skating alone wouldn't be much fun. If I managed to skate with any grace, there would be no one to cheer for me. Then again, should I fall down, no one would see me. Yesterday I had felt less than ladylike when I landed on the ice with my legs akimbo. And no doubt I'd looked like a chicken flapping its wings when I'd attempted to get up, but Karlina's encouraging words had boosted my confidence.

Yet expecting Karlina to be free at my every whim was unreasonable. This was her home and she must complete her chores. I must remember, as a visitor, that I should be more sensitive to the work schedules of the entire family, including Cousin Louise. To press anyone too much might result in my early departure for Texas.

Instead of disappointment, I should be pleased that Anton wanted to attempt another English lesson this evening. Since Christmas, I had met with him twice. Karlina had joined us both times, and although we'd all had fun, Anton hadn't learned much English. Tonight I would discover how much he remembered from our previous lessons.

I sat down on one of the fat logs near the pile of ashes that had provided warmth yesterday afternoon. There would be no fire today. Another reason I wouldn't be here long. After strapping the skates over my shoes, I picked my way onto the ice.

“Glide,” I whispered. “No clunky steps. Push and glide. Push and glide.” I said the words over and over as I skated as far as the row of trees and inhaled a huge lungful of the crisp air. Continuing onward, I made a giant circle, never once returning to my clunky hitch step. Proud of my accomplishment, I shouted to the wind, “Look at me! I can skate.”

“Ja, is gut!”

Too quickly, I turned toward the approving shout. My skates betrayed me and forced my legs into a scissorlike position. Seconds later I was sprawled on the ice like one of the marionettes I'd seen performing at Washington Park in Cincinnati years ago.

Using my hands, I turned toward the man who had caused my fall. Already I could feel the cold working its way through my wool coat. He finished strapping on his skates and raced toward me with the precision of someone who had been born with metal runners on his feet.

“My apology to you. You are German?” He arched his brows.

His German bore a different accent, one that I couldn't distinguish. I nodded. “German and English. Do you speak English?”

He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “I will help you to stand.” He continued to speak in German. He circled behind me, and before I could object, he placed his hands under my arms and lifted me to my feet in one quick motion. He kept his arms around me until I steadied myself, and then he returned to stand in front of me.

“I am sorry you fall. My fault.” He looked me up and down as though he'd encountered some strange new species. “Where you live?”

Carefully, I lifted my arm and pointed toward the village. “East Amana.”

He stared at me for a long moment before he shook his head. “Nein.” He pointed to my head, and then touched the sleeve of my coat. “Not Amana.”

I had no way of knowing how much German he could understand, so I answered as simply as possible. “I am visiting my family.”

He smiled and nodded. A hank of black hair fell onto his forehead, and he tucked it under his woolen cap. “I am Jakub Sedlacek.” He tapped his gloved hand on his chest.

“I am Dovie Cates.”

“Doovie Cates. I am happy to know you.” Moving his hand from his chest, he pointed toward an easterly stand of trees in the distance. “I live on farm. My family is Czech. You know Czech?”

I shook my head. So that was the difference in his accent. I knew I'd heard it before. A group of Czech people lived in Over-the-Rhine, but most of them spoke German as well as their native tongue. As a young girl, one of my friends had been Czechoslovakian, but she had learned more English and German than I had learned Czech. I doubted I could remember any of the language.

He held out his hand. “You want skate some more?”

Without thinking, I accepted his hand and pushed into a glide. In Cincinnati, skating with a complete stranger would have been unacceptable. But out here in the middle of the countryside on an obscure pond, it didn't seem to matter that I'd never before met this young man. We were simply two people enjoying the company of each other.

“At our farm are my mother, father, grandmother, and sister. You come and meet them?”

“I don't think my family would like that. They worry if I am gone too long.” I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but I couldn't possibly go to his home.

He dropped my hand and made a wide circle around me as I continued to skate. “You no need to be afraid. We are gut people. Not like Amana, but still gut. We are Catholic. We work hard. Sometimes I help with Amana sheep.”

“You help with the sheep?” His final comment captured my interest more than anything else he'd said.

He pretended to be holding something in each hand, and he moved his arms together and apart in a rapid motion. “With the shearing.” He rubbed his hand down his arm. “Taking off the wool.”

“Yes. I understand.” I skated closer. “Do you know George Richter and Karlina, his daughter?”

His blue eyes shone with delight as he nodded with enthusiasm. “Ja. The shepherd in charge and his daughter. Very nice, very nice.”

I patted my chest. “My family.”

He arched his brows. “Ja? You daughter, too?”

“Nein. Cousin.”

His eyes registered confusion. I wasn't certain he understood how I was connected, but at least he understood I was related to the shepherd in East Amana. And the fact that he sometimes worked for Brother George provided me with a greater sense of ease. When he reached for my hand, I readily accepted.

“I bring my sister for meet you tomorrow. You like that?”

I found his enthusiasm contagious. “Yes, I would like that very much. What is her name?”

“Sophia. She laughs a lot—happy all the time. Gut heart.” He turned backward and skated facing me. “You want to try?” He drew a half circle in the air. “Backward skate? You try?”

“Not yet. Maybe when I become steadier.”

“Maybe tomorrow. Sophia can show you.”

We'd been skating for a half hour when I pointed to the side of the pond. “I must go now.” I'd already been gone longer than I'd intended, and I didn't want Karlina to worry.

Jakub didn't argue. He skated alongside me and held my arm while I sat on the log. When I reached for one of the leather straps, he covered my hand and moved it to the side. “I do for you.” He removed his gloves and quickly unbuckled the skates, removed them from my shoes, and handed them to me.

“Thank you, Jakub.”

He looked up at me, his eyes sparkling with pleasure as the sunlight danced off his black hair. “You welcome, Doovie. What time tomorrow?” He pointed to the sun.

“One o'clock?” I held up one finger. He gave a firm nod, pushed to his feet, and flew across the pond, his skates creating a whooshing sound as the blades cut into the ice. He waved when he reached the other side.

I waved and turned toward the barn, my heart feeling lighter than it had since my mother's death. Odd that a stranger had been the cause of such a joyous afternoon. I hadn't gone far when I caught sight of someone in a distant stand of trees. I waved, but the figure bolted and disappeared.

Probably Anton, I decided. And he likely didn't want me to know that he'd come to check on me. I exhaled a quick sigh of relief, pleased I'd headed home before he saw me skating with Jakub.

While Karlina prepared coffee after prayer service, Anton and I sat on wooden stools near one of the worktables. I wondered if he would mention watching me at the pond, but when he didn't bring up ice skating, I began our lesson. Scooting to the edge of the stool, I pointed to my mouth. “Look at my lips so you can see how to form the words and then repeat after me.”

He nodded his head and stared at my mouth.

“I laughed with him.” I motioned for Anton to repeat the sentence.

“I lahvfd vidt him.”

“Good!”

“Gut!”

Both Karlina and I giggled. “You did not need to repeat when I said “good.” I was telling you that you had done a good job.” I pointed to my lips. “We will go far.”

Anton straightened his shoulders. “Ve vill goh fahr.”

When I clapped my approval, Anton beamed.

We continued the lessons until Cousin Louise finally called for us to come upstairs and prepare for bed. “You did very well tonight, Anton. Each day you should repeat what you learned this evening. I think you are an excellent student.”

His chest swelled. “Danke.”

“You are welcome,” I said, pleased with the success of his lesson.

Tonight I had seen a different Anton. This evening I had observed a young man that I liked very much. Little wonder Karlina found him attractive, even if she hadn't yet admitted it to me—or to herself.

CHAPTER 13

Over the past three weeks, I'd met Jakub and his sister at the pond on several occasions. Our times together were always filled with laughter, and their joyful nature rejuvenated my spirit. Although they'd become increasingly insistent that I visit their home and meet the rest of their family, I'd resisted. Meeting them at the pond was one thing, but going to their home was another. To explain skating with strangers at the pond would be easy enough. Leaving the boundaries of East Amana without permission—well, that would be an entirely different matter.

Both Jakub and Sophia appeared hurt by my refusal, and though I tried to explain, I wasn't sure either of them completely understood. Jakub had thought his solution quite perfect. “You need to tell Shepherd Richter you come visit the Sedlacek farm. He knows me. It will be fine.”

When I explained that Cousin George would never approve such an idea, Jakub had appeared confused. “You are not Amana girl. Should not be a problem.”

Our discussion went round and round until I finally called a halt to the idea and explained that I was a guest of the Amana people and must follow their rules. Jakub didn't argue further, but when we parted, he grinned. “I think one day you will change your mind.”

I merely waved and continued toward home. With Karlina busy helping with the sheep, logging all the records on the feed and care of the animals, and helping Anton with his invention, my afternoons had become increasingly lonely, but to take such a risk would be far too foolish.

This morning I walked into the kitchen with less than an enthusiastic heart, for I knew my afternoon would be spent alone again. Cousin Louise considered me a visitor. As such, she had decided I should not work as many hours as the other women. I appreciated her thoughtfulness, but being alone with nothing to do wasn't what I wanted or needed. During some of my afternoons, I wrote to my father, but I had heard nothing from him since Christmas.

I decided he must be traveling, too busy, or too tired to write to me. When I checked the mail each morning, my emotions would shift like the wind. I wanted to receive a letter, but I didn't want my father to send for me—not yet.

“Good morning, Cousin Louise.” The sound of the bread wagon's bell jingled, and I continued toward the door.

“Guten Morgen, Dovie.” She poured water into the large coffee boiler as she greeted me. “Thank you for filling the bucket.” She pointed to the metal pail. Of late, I'd been going out to fill a bucket of water in the morning so there was no delay in starting the coffee.

I didn't bother buttoning my coat. I wouldn't be outdoors for long. My visits with Berndt had become increasingly shorter due to Sister Fuch's complaints if he arrived even a few minutes later than expected.

He jumped down from the wagon and rubbed his hands together. He smiled as I walked toward him. “I think it is a gut day for ice skating, don't you?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don't think today is much different from yesterday or last week.”

He stepped closer. “But I can go with you today. We have finished cutting timber, so once I finish the deliveries, my afternoons are my own.”

Excitement pumped through my veins. Unable to withhold my enthusiasm, I clapped my hands together. “I have been so lonely during the afternoons. Your news cheers me more than you know.”

We walked to the rear of the wagon, and he withdrew the large tray of bread. “I think it would be better if we would meet outside of town, and then we can walk together. Two o'clock?”

“Two o'clock is good. I'll be there.” I didn't ask why we would meet outside of town. I already knew. There would be disapproval if we were seen together. And if someone saw us, they might curtail our afternoon of fun. I didn't want to risk that possibility, and I was pleased Berndt felt the same.

Throughout the morning, my excitement mounted. When I returned to the kitchen to fill the bowls with cottage cheese during the noonday meal, Cousin Louise touched my arm. “You need to quit rushing, Dovie. All morning you have been scurrying around the kitchen like a barn cat chasing a mouse.”

“I am sorry, Cousin Louise. I'll slow down.” I refilled the bowls and waited while she cleaned the edge of each dish.

“Would you like to come with me today? We will be quilting at Sister Fuch's this afternoon.” She handed me one of the bowls. “It will give you an opportunity to see how your mother quilted with us when she was a young woman.”

My stomach lurched. “Today?”

“Ja. After we have cleaned the kitchen, we will go.” She nodded toward the dining room. “I would ask Karlina, but she would only say no. I am guessing she has already told you she isn't fond of sewing.” Cousin Louise smiled. “Sometimes I don't think she is fond of people, either. Only the sheep.” She stepped around me with the other bowl of cottage cheese. “Come. We need to take these to the tables.”

She had assumed I'd be delighted to go with her. And most days I would have. “Why today?” I whispered as I returned to the dining room. Unfortunately, my whisper hadn't been quiet enough, for Sister Bertha held her index finger to her lips and shushed me before I'd even had a chance to set the bowl in front of her.

I turned my head to keep from scowling at her. The woman had no patience, but today I couldn't worry over Sister Bertha and her desire for total silence. I needed to think what I was going to do. Most days we finished cleaning in the kitchen by one o'clock. That meant we would depart for the Fuchs' kitchen house before I was scheduled to meet Berndt. There was no way I could send word to him. What would he think if I didn't show up? But what would Cousin Louise think if I declined her invitation?

Some of these women had known my mother. They could tell me about her. I wanted to meet them and hear what they would tell me. Besides, after all the questions I'd asked Cousin Louise, I simply couldn't refuse to go with her. I stood and bowed my head while the others offered the after-dinner prayer, my thoughts on Berndt rather than supplications to the Lord.

I startled when Cousin Louise touched my arm. “Do you have a sewing kit, Dovie?”

“Yes. It belonged to my mother.”

“Gut. Why don't you go upstairs and get it. You can bring it with you and help with the quilting. I am sure your mother taught you, ja?”

I smiled. “Yes. I have an Amana-style quilt that we made together. It is with the belongings we shipped to Texas.”

She appeared pleased. I wasn't sure if she was happy that I knew how to quilt or that Mother had taught me something of her Amana heritage. I hurried upstairs to find the sewing kit. I'd unpacked my belongings, and the few things I didn't often need had been placed in a bottom drawer of Karlina's wardrobe.

Kneeling on the multicolored wool carpet that covered the wood floor, I opened the drawer and dug to the bottom. In the midst of my excavation, a thought flashed through my mind, and I rocked back on my heels in a prayer-like posture. Karlina! She could leave the barn and go meet Berndt. There were many excuses she could use. I doubted either Anton or her father would question her, but Karlina was clever—she would think of something if need be.

After pushing aside my silver dresser set, which appeared out of place in these stark surroundings, my fingers grazed the sewing kit. My hand trembled as I pulled it from the drawer. I needed to hurry downstairs and speak to Karlina. One hard shove and the drawer closed. I flew out the door and down the steps.

“Dovie. Again you are racing around like a hungry barn cat. There is no need to run.”

I bobbed my head. “I'm sorry, Cousin Louise.” I scanned the room, my heart thrumming in my chest. “Where is Karlina? The kitchen?”

“Nein. She has already gone to the barn. She said two of the sheep are not well and she needed to get back and check on them.”

Cousin Louise turned toward the kitchen with a towering stack of dishes balanced in her arms. “That Karlina worries over the sheep more than most parents worry over their children.”

For a moment I was certain my heart would quit beating. How could this happen? I'd been so sure I'd come up with a plan that would work. I continued to glance around the dining room. There were still lots of people in the hall. Maybe Cousin Louise was wrong. Maybe Karlina hadn't yet left. When I didn't see her, I looked toward the men's tables.

I didn't want to ask Anton, but I would. Or at least I'd ask him to tell Karlina of my plight. Surely she would go and talk to Berndt once she'd heard my problem. But Anton was nowhere to be seen, either. No doubt he'd left with Cousin George and Karlina. I dropped to one of the wood benches and covered my face.

“You are sick?”

I looked up and was met by Sister Bertha's probing eyes. “I am fine.” I forced a feeble smile and stood. The old sister looked at me as if she didn't believe me.

“If you are fine you would not sit holding your head.” She mimicked my earlier position. “But if you say you are fine, I will not argue.” She scuttled off, muttering something about young people, but I didn't listen. I was too worried what Berndt was going to think.

I tucked my chin against the cold wind as Cousin Louise and I walked to the Fuchs' kitchen. “The sun fooled me. I thought it would be warmer this afternoon.” She drew her cloak tighter around her body. “I am glad we don't have far to go. And you should be glad you did not go ice skating this afternoon.”

I snapped my head in her direction. I hadn't said anything about going ice skating. Had she simply guessed that I had plans to go, or had she overheard me talking to Berndt? Was that why I'd been invited to go with her today?

My curiosity got the best of me. “How did you know I was going skating?”

“I did not know. It was no more than a comment.” Cousin Louise stared at me for a moment. “Did you plan to go skating? You should have told me.” She shivered. “No. It is too cold to skate. It is much better you will be quilting with me.”

She was probably right. It was colder than I'd thought, as well. Still, it didn't change the fact that Berndt would soon be standing in the frigid wind waiting for me. I hoped he wouldn't wait for long. After all these weeks, I would learn more about my mother, yet I couldn't fully take pleasure in the occasion.

“Here we are.” Cousin Louise guided me toward the steps of the kitchen house. Like the Richter kitchen house, the Fuchs' house was larger than the others in the neighborhood. The two houses were similar, except the room Cousin Louise used for the mail and medical supplies had been set up as a quilting room in the Fuchs' kitchen house. In addition, the quilting room was larger. I soon discovered every bit of the additional space was needed to accommodate the women who arrived and gathered around the quilting frame.

When the other ladies opened their sewing kits and removed their needles, I did the same. An older woman, her face lined with wrinkles, carefully threaded her needle. “I am Sister Ann. Sister Louise tells me you are Barbara Lange's daughter.”

All eyes turned in my direction. “That's right. Did you know her?”

“Ja. She lived in East. If you live in East, you know everyone who lives here.” She chuckled and gestured to Cousin Louise. “Did you not tell her we are the smallest of the villages?”

Cousin Louise poked her needle into the fabric. “She knows we are the smallest.”

“And the best,” Sister Ann said. “But I do not think Sister Louise would tell you that.” Several other women joined her raspy laughter.

“It is not gut to compare ourselves with others, so I did not tell her East is the best village.” She peeked from beneath hooded eyes. “Even if it is the truth.”

The room filled with laughter. Sister Ann giggled until tears rolled down her wrinkled cheeks. I laughed, too. Not because I understood their joke, but because it was impossible to remain straight-faced when surrounded by such mirth.

Sister Ann was considerably older than the other women, so I doubted she had been a close friend of my mother. But when the room quieted a little, I drew closer to her. “Were you one of my mother's schoolteachers, Sister Ann?”