A Shining Light (13 page)

Andrea

The following morning, I assured Lukas nothing had changed. He would continue to attend school each day, and I would continue to work in the kitchen. I wasn't sure I'd totally eased his concerns, but at least he gave me a tentative smile.

“Can I still go to see Brother Dirk after school?” When I agreed, he sighed. “And I don't have to go to see my . . . my father?” His voice trembled as he uttered the final words.

“You don't have to go today. I am sure he will want to see you sometime soon, but it can wait for a few days. Try not to worry. I won't let him hurt you again, Lukas.” I flashed what I hoped was a reassuring smile before pulling him into my arms for a brief hug. “We are going to be fine, Lukas.” I looked into his eyes. “You believe me, don't you?”

“I want to, Mama, but if he wants us to leave, we'll have to do what he says, won't we?”

I straightened the corner of his shirt collar. “I think it will be
a long time before your father is able to go anywhere, so let's not borrow trouble.”

His eyes scrunched together. “What's that mean?”

I chuckled and traced my fingers through his brown curls. “It means if the problem isn't already on your doorstep, don't go looking for it.”

His frown deepened. “But he is on our doorstep.”

“Not quite, Lukas. Your father is in the colonies, but he's not able to do anything except follow the doctor's orders.” I hugged him. “We're going to be fine. Now, I need to go downstairs and help Sister Erma and Sister Greta with breakfast preparations. You finish getting dressed and come down when you hear the breakfast bell.”

I hurried down the stairs and grabbed my apron off the hook as I entered the kitchen. “Good morning, Sisters. I'm sorry to be late. Lukas was full of questions.”

“Guten Morgen,” they replied in unison.

I looked at Sister Erma. “Do you want me to slice the bread?”

Sister Greta was peeling and slicing potatoes. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, fried potatoes, bread, butter, syrup, and coffee were the usual morning fare.

Sister Erma continued to pour syrup into the pitchers that would be placed on each of the dining tables. “Ja, that would be gut.”

Each morning the bakery wagon arrived at the kitchen and delivered fresh loaves to each of the kitchens in the village. On Saturdays, the delivery also included coffee cakes, which were sliced and then served on Sunday mornings. The coffee cake had quickly become one of Lukas's favorites and another reason he looked forward to Sundays.

Before I'd completed slicing the loaves we would serve at breakfast, Brother Bosch appeared at the back door and crooked his finger. “Would you join me on the back porch, Sister Andrea?”

I looked at Sister Erma for direction. She nodded. “You go ahead. We can manage.”

There wasn't time to worry about what Brother Bosch might want to discuss, but I was sure it had something to do with Fred. Maybe he was going to tell me all three of us needed to leave the village. My stomach tightened into a knot as the older man turned to face me.

“You should know that the elders will meet this afternoon to discuss the arrival of your husband.” He gazed out into the garden. “I understand he is without funds to pay for his medical care.” He turned to look at me. “This is true?”

“As far as I know, it is true, Brother Bosch.” Sadness gripped me and an unbidden tear slipped down my cheek. “He came here believing my father would provide for him. He doesn't believe that I don't have the money my father received for the farm.”

“So this is why he is angry. When I stopped at Dr. Karr's office this morning, I could not understand why your husband was so quarrelsome. He said he did not want to talk to me.” Brother Bosch reached into his pocket and removed his pipe. He held the bowl in his palm and rubbed the shiny wood with his thumb. “I am sure that he will soon understand and accept the truth, but I wanted to tell you the elders will make some decisions this afternoon.”

“About Fred's care or about all of us?” I folded my hands together and squeezed tight to stop my fingers from shaking. All night I had lain awake and wrestled with my worries. I'd tried to pray, but soon my prayers spiraled into troubling thoughts of what would happen if we were forced to leave the village.

In truth, there was no reason for the members of the society to bear the burden of three strangers in their midst. Especially since only one of us was contributing anything toward our expenses. And my work in the kitchen didn't equal the cost of our food,
shelter, and Lukas's education, not to mention the other necessities that had been supplied since our arrival.

Now, with Fred and the cost of his keep and medical expenses, would they believe our family too great a drain of their resources? I couldn't fault them if they did, yet my prayers had all begun with an appeal for understanding and mercy and continued with a plea for Fred to comprehend the depth of our need and develop a spirit of thankfulness. Once I prayed for Fred's change of heart, my thoughts became muddled and my prayers turned into meandering worries. Unlike Sister Erma, I hadn't yet learned how to surrender my troubles to God. I tried, but I wasn't convinced God could be trusted to handle my problems. After all, He hadn't handled them to my liking in the past—how could I believe He would do so now?

Brother Bosch cleared his throat. When I looked up, his eyes shone with compassion. He tapped a finger to the side of his head. “I think you were lost in your own thoughts and did not hear my answer, ja?”

“I'm sorry.” I offered a weak smile. “What did you say?”

“I said the elders and I will discuss your husband's medical treatment as well as the welfare of you and your son. We want to do what is best for all three of you while remaining attentive to the needs of our people, as well.”

My voice caught and I touched my fingers to my throat and swallowed hard. “Do you think we will be asked to leave?”

“There is no way I can speak for the rest of the elders, but it is my belief that we should continue to extend our hospitality to you and your family. I will do my best to influence the others, but I must bow to the majority in any decision that is made. You understand?”

I nodded. “Thank you, Brother Bosch. I will be grateful for
anything you can do to help us.” He tucked his pipe back into his jacket. Though he'd twisted the pipe in his left hand throughout our conversation, he'd never stopped to light it. “You never smoked your pipe.”

He grinned and patted his pocket. “A nervous habit, I am told.”

Now aware that this conversation had been as difficult for Brother Bosch as it had for me, I admired him all the more. This was a man seasoned with grace and mercy, and I counted it a privilege to have him on my side. Even if the other elders decided we should leave the village, I was thankful for Brother Bosch. Win or lose, he would champion our cause with unbridled zeal.

“One thing I would ask, Sister Andrea.” He hesitated a moment, his bushy brows dipping low over his serious brown eyes. “You could maybe tell your husband it would be gut if he would show some appreciation to Dr. Karr. Even though the office provides space for very ill patients, he should remember he is a guest in Dr. Karr's home. Your husband, he tends to criticize. And I do not think he shows the doctor proper respect.”

I was sure there had been a discussion between Dr. Karr and Brother Bosch. No doubt the doctor had detailed Fred's grumbling complaints and insulting remarks. I didn't tell Brother Bosch that I'd spoken to Fred about his rude behavior the previous evening. To reveal I'd already attempted to correct the situation might cause Brother Bosch to rethink his position.

“I'll speak with Fred once I've completed my work in the kitchen after breakfast. If you think it would help the doctor, I could assist with Fred's care after the noonday meals and each evening.”

Perhaps my presence would calm Fred's horrid manners. If not, he could direct his anger at me rather than at Dr. Karr or his wife. I shuddered to think what Fred had said or done since I'd left the doctor's office last night.

“I will report your willingness to the elders and to Dr. Karr. Although only God can know the condition of each soul, your husband behaves like a man who does not know God.” He arched his brows.

“He has never acknowledged a belief in God to me.” I didn't add that Fred had always mocked those who professed such faith. Right now, the less the elders knew about Fred's traits, the better it would be.

The bell rang and Brother Bosch glanced at the door. “I will explain his lack of faith to the elders. It may help them understand why he shows no gratitude. We will all need to be in prayer for him, ja?”

“That's what Sister Erma said, too.”

I knew the Bible instructed us to pray for those who spitefully used and persecuted us. Fred certainly fit that description, but praying for him was so difficult. Prayers for Lukas or Sister Erma came easily to my lips. But Fred? My mind argued against repaying his cruelty with prayers to heal both his body and soul. It would take all of my strength to pray for him, but I would try.

“Sister Erma is a smart woman.” He tapped a finger to his head and smiled. “I think we should go inside before she comes looking for us. Nothing displeases her more than a disruption in her schedule.”

“Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Brother Bosch. I hope you will seek me out after the meeting so that I will know the outcome as soon as possible.” My hand remained fixed on the handle of the screen door.

“For sure, I will do that, but remember the Lord is in charge. You should cast your cares upon His shoulders.”

I nodded, opened the door, and walked inside. Although I
wanted to believe the truth of Brother Bosch's comment, I felt as if the elders and Fred were the ones in charge of my future, not the Lord.

How did these people so easily place their trust in God? During our evening Bible readings and conversations in the upstairs parlor, Sister Erma had assured me I was making great progress, yet I wondered if I could ever attain such indisputable conviction. Right now, there wasn't time to ponder the question.

Sister Erma waved me forward. “Fill the bowls with potatoes and carry them in to the tables. It is almost time for the prayer.”

I didn't miss her harried tone. While I'd been visiting with Brother Bosch, she and Greta had likely been scurrying around the kitchen like mice on a sinking ship. I filled the bowls, placed them on a large tray, and carried the tray into the dining room as Brother Bosch began the before-meal prayer. There was no choice but to come to a halt while still holding the heavy tray. My arms were shaking by the time the prayer ended, and I feared I might drop the entire tray of potatoes.

Sister Greta reached for the tray. “Let me take that.”

I didn't argue. Instead, I followed alongside her and deposited a bowl at each of the tables. When we'd finished, I followed her back to the kitchen. “Thank you.”

She glanced over her shoulder and grinned. “You would do the same for me. Besides, if you dropped that whole tray, we would have to start all over peeling and frying more potatoes. Everyone in the dining room would be unhappy with us.”

“And we'd have to clean up the mess, too.”

She hung the tray from a hook on the far wall and then returned to my side. “You had a gut talk with Brother Bosch?”

I knew this was her way of asking what we'd discussed—not that I minded. Ever since we'd discussed the nature of her relationship
with Dirk, Sister Greta and I had become fast friends. “You know my husband has returned?”

Although news usually traveled quickly throughout the village, I didn't know how much she had learned last evening. If she'd not heard last night, I was sure Sister Erma had given her a few of the details this morning.

“Ja. Sister Erma told me he is at the doctor's office and he has malaria.”

I picked up a slice of bread and slathered it with butter and jam. “And a bad infection in his side. And an injured leg.” After taking a bite of the bread and jam, I explained what all had happened since last evening.

“Ach! I am so sad for you.” She stepped closer, out of Sister Erma's earshot. “And Dirk—I am sure he is heartbroken. I know he hoped the two of you might have a future together. Of course, he was not certain you would decide to stay in the colonies, but I am sure he prayed you would. This changes everything.”

Sister Greta's words sent a fresh prick to my heart. I, too, had thought about and prayed for those things concerning Dirk. Knowing the pain I'd caused him doubled the ache I felt. I swallowed the potato-sized lump in my throat. “Brother Bosch and Sister Erma say we need to pray for Fred—that he will have a change of heart and realize he needs to take a different path with his life.”

“And you? What do you want, Andrea?”

I shook my head. “I don't think I have any choice in what happens, so it matters little what I want.” Trying to keep my emotions in check, I inhaled a deep breath. “I am most concerned about Lukas. His fear of Fred runs deep, and he is very unhappy that his father has returned. In some ways, I think he blames me.”

“You? Why should he blame you?”

“Because I told him his father was dead and now Fred has reappeared. In some ways, I understand. He trusted what I told him.” I shrugged. “Of course, I trusted what Mr. Brighton, the owner of the shipping line, told me. I should be delighted my husband is alive, and yet—”

“It is hard to welcome his return when you lived with such unhappiness.” She squeezed my hand. “I will pray that God will grant you joy and happiness now. I am not sure if that will be with Fred, but that is my fervent wish for you, and I do not believe anyone could find fault with such a prayer.”

I choked back my tears. “Thank you, Greta.”