A Shining Light (16 page)

Never before had I allowed myself to picture the full consequences of what would happen to Lukas and me. Now that I'd put it into words, the realization of what the future could hold rested heavily on my shoulders. I shuddered at the possibility of returning to my former life.

“I don't think Dirk would let that happen. He cares too much for you and Lukas.”

I lifted another disc from one of the crocks and continued the scrubbing ritual. “Dirk could do nothing. The decision of the elders is what counts, and they must choose what is best for the entire village, not an outsider and her son.”

Greta peeked at me from beneath her long lashes. “I think he would leave the colonies in order to protect you and Lukas.”

I stopped scrubbing and gaped at her. “I would never want him to do that. His life is here. He would never be happy living outside the colonies.”

She shrugged. “Do not be so sure. He has a gut trade and could find work in almost any town. I think change is not so hard when you have a reason.”

“But I would still have a husband. Unless I misjudged Fred's behavior today, none of this will be easily resolved.” I rested my arm along the edge of the washtub. “And as much as Dirk might want to help us, that cannot happen. We must forget each other.”

She moved closer to my side as several robins took refuge in a nearby tree and warbled a cheerful song. “I am not sure he can forget you.”

“He can. He must. One day he will find an Amana woman, one who can love him in return.”

A pain shot through my heart as I spoke the words. Deep down, I wanted him never to love another woman. But such a thought was self-indulgent and foolish. He deserved a wife who loved him. Even more, he deserved to be a father. Dirk should be happy.

Over the next few days, I continued to pray that what I'd told Greta was true: Fred had simply hit a rough spot and only momentarily returned to his old habits on the day he'd displayed such anger toward me.

However, I remained vigilant and carefully watched for any signs that Fred might be losing patience with Lukas. To my great relief, the boy still remained eager to visit and play checkers with his father. This evening as we headed toward Dr. Karr's office, he skipped along the board sidewalk, his arms swinging to and fro as though he had not a care in the world. I was amazed at how quickly Lukas had seemingly set aside memories of his father's abusive treatment. I assumed it was a testament to the child's deep desire to win his father's love. I prayed Fred wouldn't do anything to destroy the boy's blossoming trust. When Lukas reached the tailor's shop, he turned around and waited for me to catch up.

“Papa said he was going to teach me the game of chess. Do you know how to play, Mama?”

“No, I don't.” I grasped his hand. “I didn't know your father played, either.”

He bobbed his head and several brown curls fell across his forehead. “He says he learned when he was on the ship, but he doesn't have all the pieces.”

“I see. And do you think you'd like to learn?”

“Uh-huh. Papa says it's harder than checkers, but you play on the same board with pieces that move in different directions.” His eyes shone with expectation. “I think Papa likes me now, don't you?”

“He always liked you, Lukas, but things were much harder when we were in Baltimore.” Though I didn't want to condone Fred's earlier actions, neither did I want my son to think his father had ever disliked him. Maintaining a delicate balance between the before and after and the good and bad was going to be more difficult than I had anticipated.

Lukas pushed the hair off his forehead and smiled. “He says now that I'm older, I can help him with things.”

I stopped short. “What sort of things?”

When he began to tug on my hand, we continued onward. “I take his letters to the general store to be mailed.” His face creased in a proud grin.

Why was Fred having Lukas mail his letters? And to whom was he writing? The one day I'd seen him writing a letter, he'd hidden it from me. Was it because he didn't want me to know about his letters?

I forced a smile. “And what other tasks have you done for him?”

“I stop at the store after school, and when there's a letter for him, I take it to him before I go to help Brother Dirk.”

My curiosity had reached new heights. “Does that happen very often? I mean, does your father receive many letters?”

“Only two. But Papa said his letters are a secret, so I don't think I should have told you.”

“I promise I won't say a word. You don't need to worry about telling me.” I squeezed his hand. “And, Lukas?”

He gazed up at me. “What, Mama?”

“We don't keep secrets from each other. Don't ever be afraid to tell me anything. Do you understand?”

After a quick nod, he pointed toward the doctor's office. “Look! Papa's sitting outside.” He turned loose of my hand and raced toward Fred. “Papa! Papa!”

The excitement in his boyish voice carried on the early evening breeze, and a strand of jealousy encircled and squeezed my heart. I should have been pleased to hear the boy's excitement, pleased by the establishment of this new relationship, and pleased that Fred now desired to spend time with his son. Yet a part of me resented the fact that he'd so easily won the boy's affection.

These jealous feelings had never surfaced when Lukas wanted to spend time with Dirk, but with Fred it was different. Fred didn't deserve such adoration—not yet. It didn't seem fair that he hadn't had to work any harder to gain Lukas's trust and affection.

I disliked my harsh feelings, but hard as I tried, my jealousy refused to be tucked away. My gait slowed as I watched my son and his father laughing together. Isn't this what I had longed for during those years in Baltimore? Why couldn't I appreciate this wonderful gift I'd now received? Why did I feel anger and jealousy rather than thankfulness and joy? Did I want Fred to suffer the way he'd made Lukas and me suffer?

“How come you're so down in the mouth?”

Startled by Fred's abrupt question, I forced a slight smile and shrugged. “I'm not down in the mouth—just thinking.”

“I took your advice and asked the doc 'bout the wheelchair. Thought you'd be pleased.” He leaned forward a few inches and lowered his voice. “Don't think he liked the idea much, but I finally convinced him.”

“Was he worried about the infection in your side or the malaria?”

Fred pointed to his side. “The infection. I told him he worries too much. If anything happens, it will be my fault, not his.”

He motioned to Lukas to get behind the chair. “Come on and push me, son. Let's take a walk.”

Moving quickly, I stepped to the rear of the chair. “I'll push you. The chair is probably too difficult for Lukas to manage.”

“Get outta there and let him push, Andrea. He's not a baby anymore.” He looked over his right shoulder. “It ain't too hard for ya, is it, boy?”

“Naw, I can do it, Papa.”

Suddenly I felt like the fifth wheel on a wagon. Though I didn't touch the handles of the wheelchair, I remained by Lukas's side in case he needed help. Fred might think the boy could push him without difficulty, but I was sure the board sidewalks would prove difficult for maneuvering the wheelchair.

“Ya coddle him too much, Andrea. Lukas is a big boy who can do lots of things if you'd just let him. Ain't that right, son?”

Lukas hesitated, his wavering uncertainty clear. When he looked at me, I nodded my reassurance and he agreed with his father. “Mama lets me do lots of things, too. She lets me go all around the village by myself, and she lets me go and make things at the tinsmith shop with Brother Dirk, and I can even clean the chicken coop, can't I, Mama?”

“Yes, and you do a very good job.” I winked at him.

The wheelchair suddenly angled and caught on one of the wooden slats. Fred grabbed at the arms of the wheelchair.

“I'm sorry, Papa. Did I hurt you?” Fear edged the boy's voice.

“You're doing fine. I can take a bump or two.” He motioned down the street. “Let's see if the barber is in his shop. I think I'd like a free haircut.”

“I can trim your hair, Fred.” In the past, I'd always cut his hair. “I'll bring my scissors tomorrow.”

“Why should you do it when I can get a real barber to cut it for free? Wouldn't want the poor fellow sittin' around with nothin' to do, now would we?”

His question bore a mocking tone, and I wondered if he was baiting me. Did he want me to disagree or come to the defense of the barber? And why did he assume he could avail himself of anything in the village for free?

“I doubt the barbershop is open at this time.” Maybe it was time to detail more fully the arrangements regarding his care. “The elders agreed to furnish you with free medical treatment as well as your room and board until you've healed, but I don't think they expect to offer you free haircuts when your wife can perform the duty for you.”

He chuckled. “Won't hurt none to ask. We'll see how Christian these folks really are.”

Once again, I was hearing remnants of the old Fred resurfacing. In spite of the heat, the hairs on the nape of my neck stood on end. “What made you decide it was your duty to test the faith of these people, Fred?”

He twisted in the chair and scowled at me. “It ain't your place to question me, woman. I'll do whatever I want. You understand?”

I'd gone too far and now regretted my decision to question him. I could withstand his angry words, but one look at Lukas was
enough to tell me that Fred had frightened the boy. All color had drained from his face, and he clutched the handles of the wheelchair with such ferocity, his knuckles turned white. Hoping to reassure Lukas, I squeezed his arm and signaled that we would talk later.

He nodded, but the fear in his eyes remained. When we arrived at the barbershop a short time later, the door was closed and a sign hung in the window.

I stepped to one side of the wheelchair. “It says he'll be open at eight o'clock tomorrow morning.”

“Want me to come over after school tomorrow and bring you, Papa?”

I touched Lukas's hand. “You're supposed to go directly to Brother Dirk's shop and help, remember?”

“He don't have to go there if I need him. He spends too much time with that tinsmith.”

This time I didn't argue and neither did Lukas. I expected him to say he enjoyed spending time with Dirk, but he only tightened his lips. It seemed the boy's wisdom sometimes exceeded my own. We continued down the sidewalk—all of us silent until we finally neared the general store, where I motioned for Lukas to turn the wheelchair.

“We better start back to the doctor's office, or we'll be late for prayer meeting.”

Lukas turned the chair and the three of us once again fell into silence until we had arrived at Dr. Karr's office. “Want me to push you inside, Papa?”

Fred nodded. “Might as well. The doctor will need to help me into bed.”

Once inside, I instructed Lukas to tell the doctor we'd returned while I took over and maneuvered through the doorways and then placed the chair alongside Fred's bed.

Lukas bounded into the room moments later. “Dr. Karr said he'll come help you in a few minutes.”

I took Lukas's hand and started for the door.

“Come over after school tomorrow, Lukas. I need your help.”

I turned toward Fred. “He is supposed to go to the tinsmith's shop and help there after school. I'll be here in the morning and can help you with anything you need done.”

He shook his head and smiled at Lukas. “I want my boy to come and help me. We do just fine together. Ain't that right, Lukas?”

Lukas bobbed his head. “Yes, Papa.”

Fred gave a firm nod. “Then I'll see ya after school tomorrow.” His glance shifted from the boy and settled on me. With a hard stare, he made the challenge clear—he expected his son to appear after school tomorrow and me not to interfere. To do so would only increase Fred's anger. I would explain to Dirk. He would understand.

One thing was plain: Fred hadn't changed his ways. At least not toward me.

There wasn't time to worry about Fred or his needs during the following week. Soon after we first arrived, I learned that onions and onion sets were grown as a cash crop throughout the villages. Each year the farmers planted far more onions than could ever be used in the colonies, and once the onions were ready for harvest, help was expected from among the garden workers, farm workers, and kitchen workers.

Although Greta and I hadn't helped dig the onions, Sister Erma volunteered our help with the sorting process. We began yesterday and there was little doubt we'd be sorting for at least two or three more days. I'd never seen so many onions in all my life.

Except for short breaks when we hurried back to help in the kitchen, we cleaned dirt from the onions that had to be sorted by size.

Using the back of her hand, Greta swiped a strand of hair from her forehead. She'd been unusually quiet all day. I moved a step closer to her. “Are you not well today? You haven't said more than a few words all morning.”

She hiked one shoulder. “I am not sick, but I think my heart is going to break.” As a tear slipped down her cheek, she removed a handkerchief from her pocket.

I glanced toward the women working on the other side of the drying rack, but they hadn't noticed Greta's tears. “What has happened?”

“I'll tell you later—when we're alone.”

We continued our work in silence, but a short time later several of the women began to sing, and soon the rest joined in. I didn't know the song, but I hummed along, glad for any diversion. I couldn't imagine what could be troubling Greta, but because of her usually happy nature, I feared it was something serious.

As soon as we were dismissed to go back and help in the kitchen, I reached for Greta's hand. “Tell me what is troubling you.”

“It's Benjamin.” She burst into tears as soon as she'd uttered his name.

“Has something happened to him?” Perhaps he'd been injured while working in the flour mill.

“Nein. It is my father.” Once again her tears flowed and she hiccoughed.

“Your father has been injured?”

“Nein. He opposes Benjamin.”

My confusion mounted. She'd told me some time ago that her father wasn't fond of Benjamin, but I was sure something more
must have happened. If she didn't quit crying, I'd never find out. “Blow your nose and tell me exactly what has happened.”

She did as I instructed and then giggled. “You sound like you're talking to Lukas.”