A Hidden Truth (20 page)

He shuffled one step to the right, leaving me only a narrow space. As I squeezed past him, he leaned close to my ear. “I want to speak to you later. This is not what you think.”

I didn't acknowledge the remark, for I knew my eyes and ears had not deceived me.

On the way home from prayer meeting while my mother and father were engaged in conversation, Anton drew near. “I want to explain about Violet.”

“There is nothing to explain. She is your dear friend from High.”

“She is not a
dear
friend—she is an
old
friend.”

I arched my brows. “She is my age, I would guess.”

“Ach! I did not mean she is old in years. I have known her since we were children, so we have been gut friends a long time.”

I shrugged. “You told me that earlier. I don't know why you feel you must continue to explain. It makes no difference to me.”

“It makes a difference or you would not be acting cold toward me. You think that there is something more than friendship between us, but I am telling you there is not.”

“Really?” I gave him a sidelong glance. “I think it is Violet who needs your explanation, not me. From what I heard, she believes there is a great deal more than friendship.”

“Then she is wrong.”

“Tell me, Anton, did you kiss her on the cheek and tell her that you think she is wonderful? Did you whisper the same sweet words to her that you have said to me?” I hissed the words at him, careful to keep my voice low so that my parents would not hear.

“I think Violet hoped that one day we would be more than friends, but I did not encourage her. No matter what anyone in High says, I never encouraged her.”

I wondered at his final comment. Why would others in High think he cared for Violet if he'd never given any indication? A lump rose in my throat and tears threatened. I blinked hard and squeezed my lips into a thin line. I would not cry!

But I would guard my heart.

CHAPTER 20

Dovie

Ever since I'd read some of the letters my mother had written to Cousin Louise, I'd struggled to comprehend the contents. How I wished I could have read all of them. I was sure there was more I would have discovered. Over and over I recalled what had been written. I also contemplated what had not been written but only intimated.

As I considered the contents of those missives, I arrived at only one conclusion: Berndt Lehmann was my half brother. Berndt was the child my mother had mentioned in her letter, the child that Erich's parents had begrudgingly agreed to care for, the child she had left behind.

My stomach roiled at the thought. That was the real reason Cousin Louise and Berndt's father wanted to keep us apart. They didn't want me to find out. Worse yet, they didn't want us to fall in love with each other. It all made perfect sense, yet it made no sense at all. Could my mother have given birth to a child and left him behind? Had she hidden the child's birth from my father? Was that why she'd told him so little about her life in Amana? She feared he might discover the child born out of wedlock?

There was so much I wanted to know. Did Brother Erich's wife know about my mother? Did Berndt think she was his mother? To ask him such a question would be impossible, yet I wanted to know. And had my grandparents' decision to leave the colonies been based upon feelings of disgrace? I knew little of how such a situation would have been handled in the village, yet there surely must have been talk. All the ladies in the Küche must have known. Were they forbidden by the elders to speak of such matters?

Perhaps I would soon learn, since tomorrow I was going to attend Sunday meeting with the rest of the family. Cousin George had gained the accord of the elders. Because I would be remaining in the colonies for a prolonged period of time, and because I had expressed a desire to attend meetings, the elders decided I should be encouraged to do so.

As usual, Sister Bertha was the first to arrive at the kitchen this morning. Cousin Louise smiled and greeted her. “I am glad you are here early, Sister Bertha. Pour a cup of coffee. We need to talk.”

A fleeting look of suspicion crossed Sister Bertha's weathered face, but she removed a cup from the shelf, wrapped the corner of her apron around the handle of the coffeepot, and poured herself a cup of the steaming brew. She carried the brimming cup to the worktable and pulled out one of the tall stools.

“So what do we need to discuss? You need help planning the spring menu?”

I had learned that the weekly menus remained the same throughout each season. Every Monday we served the same meals through the winter. Every Tuesday we served the same meals, and so on. A change in the menus occurred only when we moved from one season to the next. In winter, the fruits and vegetables we canned or dried were served. In spring and summer, the abundant fresh produce from the kitchen gardens graced the tables. The spring menu didn't need to be planned, but Sister Bertha liked to feel she contributed to such decisions. At least that's what Cousin Louise had told me.

“Nein. We don't need to worry about menus, Sister Bertha.” Cousin Louise had settled on a stool across the worktable. “I am going to need your help in the Küche on Sundays.”

The older woman arched her bushy gray eyebrows.
“Ich?”

“Ja, you. The elders have decided it would be gut if Dovie attended Sunday meeting while she is here. It will help her learn more about our ways. For now, Brother George and I thought she could attend every other Sunday. That way she could still help in the kitchen when not at services. Since you have worked on Sundays in the past, I naturally thought of you.”

Sister Bertha exhaled a deep sigh. “Why not ask Sister Marta to return to Sunday mornings? It was her job before Sister Dovie arrived. I do not like to miss Sunday meeting.” She shook her head and frowned.

Cousin Louise nodded. “Well, I will not force you, but Sister Marta has not been well these past weeks, and I don't think she should take charge any longer. I thought of you because you are the most capable and have more Küche skills than the younger women.”

Sister Bertha's frown faded as Cousin Louise showered her with praise. “For sure, I would not want Sister Marta's health to suffer. It is true that I have excellent skills in the kitchen. The elders should have assigned me my own Küche long ago.” Her eyes shone with sadness as she uttered the sorrowful lament.

Cousin Louise seized the opportunity. “Then this will be your chance to be the Küchebaas every other Sunday morning. When I return from meeting, you can continue to be in charge, if you'd like.” The older woman stared into her coffee cup, obviously weighing the idea. When she didn't reply, Cousin Louise leaned across the worktable. “You are well versed in the Scriptures and testimonies of our leaders, but Sister Dovie has received limited religious training.”

Sister Bertha lifted her head and looked at me. “It is true you need to be learning the Bible and studying to lead a good and useful life.” She turned her attention to Cousin Louise. “And it is true that, because of my age, I have had more years of training than the rest of you. So I have decided I am the best choice to fill the position.”

“Thank you, Sister Bertha. It will be gut to have your help on Sundays.” Cousin Louise pushed up from her stool.

The older sister stretched her neck and tipped her head like a rooster preparing to crow. “Help? I will not be helping. I will be in charge.” She lifted her cup and took a swallow. After placing the cup on the table, she looked in my direction. “You wish to thank me?”

Knowing a show of gratitude was expected, I bobbed my head. “Thank you for your willingness to serve, Sister Bertha. I appreciate your sacrifice.”

“You are welcome. I know the Lord is pleased that I am going to give you the opportunity to worship.” She picked up her cup and carried it to the sink.

As the other sisters arrived, Cousin Louise drew close to me and winked. “Sister Bertha would deny that she is sometimes filled with pride, but today I think her pride is a benefit to the three of us—and to the Lord, if such a thing is possible.” She chuckled as she picked up a knife and began to slice the bread.

The following morning I donned one of my dark mourning dresses and added one of Karlina's dark shoulder shawls with a long point in the back. This would be different from the meeting I had attended as a guest at Christmastime. Today I would attend in order to learn more about my mother's faith.

“Turn around and let me make certain the point is in the center.” Karlina arranged it at the shoulders and gave the point a slight tug. “It is gut. Now cross the points in front and hold them, and I will tie the apron around your waist.”

I did as she told me and then turned for her approval. She nodded and handed me one of her caps made of fine black gauze and trimmed with a row of black tatted edging. Black satin ribbons hung from each side of the cap and were long enough to tie beneath my chin. I brushed my hand down the front of the crisp black apron. “This is very different from the clothing worn to church in Cincinnati. There some of the ladies wear hats decorated with flowers and feathers. Some of the decorations are so large that you can't see around them. And always the ladies wear fancy dresses. Only the women who cannot afford better would wear unadorned clothing to church.”

Karlina bobbed her head. “Here it is the opposite. Years ago, before our relatives left Germany and came to this country, they rebelled against the worldliness of the church. It was back then that the women chose to wear simple dark clothing and refrain from dressing in elaborate clothing or wearing fancy hats.” She placed a gauze cap over her shiny brown hair. The black ribbons hung loose on either side of her chin. “We are taught that such adornment can lead to vanity.”

“Having attended a few of the large churches in Cincinnati, I think there is probably some truth in that belief. My mother always said Easter Sunday was more a fashion show than a time of worship.”

Together we walked downstairs, where Sister Bertha had taken full charge of the kitchen. When Cousin Louise tried to help her with breakfast preparations, the older sister had sent her away. When I attempted to help clean up after breakfast, she'd told me she didn't need my help. She had, however, made good use of the two junior girls who were assigned to work on Sunday mornings. They were scurrying from kitchen to dining room like mice on a sinking ship.

Sister Bertha walked to the foot of the stairs and gave a nod of approval as she passed by Karlina and me. “Make sure you are not late—late to meeting is not acceptable.”

Karlina frowned at the older woman, and once Sister Bertha returned to the kitchen, Karlina leaned close to my ear. “She acts like she is the only person who knows the rules. I feel sorry for the girls who must stay and work with her. From now on, I think they will dread Sunday morning in the Küche.”

As soon as Karlina's parents and Anton joined us, we departed. Since my arrival, both Karlina and Cousin Louise had explained snippets of church history and practices to me. I was glad for that, as it would help me to feel more at ease today and in the weeks to come.

We were approaching the meetinghouse when Cousin Louise motioned Karlina and me forward. “We will be attending the second meeting, but Karlina will attend third meeting with you, so you won't be alone, Dovie.”

I hoped Karlina didn't mind, for I realized that she normally attended second gathering. Cousin Louise had explained that there were three congregations, and members were assigned by their age and spiritual state. The first meeting was for the older and most pious members. They met in a small room in the meetinghouse. Most of those assigned to the second gathering were middle-aged, and they met at the same time, but in a different assembly room. The third group consisted of children over the age of seven and the young married people. Since I wasn't yet versed in the faith, I was assigned to third church.

Karlina squeezed my hand. “I am pleased to attend with you. The others will know that I'm there to sit with you, and that I have not been demoted because of bad behavior.”

I had learned that the elders could promote members from one group to another, or move members further back in the room as a sign of increasing piety. On the other hand, elders could also demote members to a lower church or move them to a bench closer to the front as a sign of diminished piety. Because of my status, I would be sitting near the front in the third meeting—and so would Karlina.

We entered through the door assigned to the women, and Karlina led the way to the proper meeting room, where we took our place in the front row on the women's side. “Thank you for your willingness to sit in front with me,” I whispered.

She nodded and smiled, but kept her eyes straight ahead. Feet shuffled and benches creaked as the boys and girls and the men and women shuffled into the room from their respective doors. Soon the elders walked to the front of the room and took their seats on the long bench. One of the elders read Scripture from the Bible, and another read and instructed from the testimonies of former church leaders. I did my best to listen to what was being said, but my eyes tended to wander and compare the starkness of the interior to the church we had attended in Cincinnati. Here there was nothing but the unadorned glass windows, pale blue walls, bare pine floors, and benches that had been crafted of solid wood with no thought of comfort in their construction.

When the service ended, I was thankful to leave behind the hard wooden bench. Karlina held my arm as we exited the church. “We will wait for Mutter and Vater. Sometimes first and second gathering is a little longer.” She smiled. “I think this service is shorter because some of the children can't sit still for long.”

Karlina waved to Anton. As he strolled toward us, Karlina told me that he had been assigned to third church when he'd come from High, but he had since advanced to a position further back. “I think he will soon be promoted to second gathering.”