A Shining Light (22 page)

My mind whirled with the day's events. What had been pleasant hours working in the potato field had evolved into a day I would never want to repeat. In such a short time, I had managed to
offend Dirk, Greta, and Sister Erma; I had been torn with worry about my child; I had been verbally attacked by Fred. And then there were those letters.

Those letters! My knees threatened to buckle and I sank onto my bed. Those letters had opened the door to more trouble than I could even imagine.

The following morning while I waited for the wagon that would once again carry me to the potato fields, I continued to worry about Fred's letters. The only sleep I'd had last night had been filled with bad dreams that resulted in little rest. I had tried to reach some conclusion about what I should do, but each idea I'd had resulted in a bad outcome. If only I had someone in whom I could confide, someone who could advise me.

I still didn't want to believe what I'd read, but given Fred's lies, how could I trust him to tell me the truth? Could Fred truly be responsible for the death of another person? Had my husband somehow staged his own death?

From what I'd gleaned in the letters, there had been an altercation after Fred had returned Stateside, one that had caused the wound in his side. The injury had been inflicted when he'd attempted to rob a gentleman who happened to be a wealthy
banker—a banker Fred had killed. Pinkerton agents were on the case and had questioned Fred's former shipmate and author of the letters, John Calvert.

The letters had detailed that before his departure for Iowa, Fred had made promises to Mr. Calvert—promises to send him money in exchange for information regarding any progress in the investigation and for keeping Fred's whereabouts secret. It seemed Fred's former shipmate had a vast knowledge of what had occurred during the failed robbery and murder, but whether he'd been present during the incident wasn't clear. Perhaps the other letters he'd written bore additional information, but I doubted I'd ever have an opportunity to read them.

One thing was certain: Mr. Calvert was bringing pressure to bear. In the second letter, he threatened to tell the Pinkerton men where Fred was hiding if he didn't send at least two hundred dollars by the end of November and the remainder of the money by the first of next year. My breath had caught when I'd read Calvert's final sentence.
Get your wife's father to
turn loose of his money or you'll soon be
in prison.
Fred hadn't told Mr. Calvert of my father's death or the fact that we were penniless. Instead, he'd kept the man dangling. I doubted my father would have granted Fred's request, but the promise had seemingly been enough to satisfy Calvert. Where did Fred think he'd obtain such a large sum of money?

Anger swelled in my chest. Not only had he planned to take advantage of my father, but after receiving refuge in the colonies, he'd written and told Calvert his exact whereabouts. With a stroke of his pen, Fred had placed everyone who lived here in danger. What if the Pinkerton agents came here? While in Baltimore, I'd read newspaper accounts regarding the Pinkerton agents and their prowess in hunting down criminals. I'd also read of mishaps in which innocent people had been injured and
died during some of the agents' crime-fighting forays. The worry that something similar could happen here was the cause of my fitful sleep last night.

“Guten Morgen, Sister Andrea.” Several of the ladies called to me as the wagon rumbled to a halt.

“Guten Morgen, Sisters.” I climbed into the wagon and sat down next to Sister Dorothea.

“You did not sleep well last night?” Sister Hulda tapped beneath one of her eyes. “Dark circles mean not much sleep.”

I smiled and nodded. “Ja, I had trouble sleeping.”

Sister Dorothea edged closer. “I heard that there was trouble with your little boy yesterday. No wonder you could not sleep last night.”

For a moment, I was struck speechless. How had Sister Dorothea, who lived in a different part of the village, heard about Lukas? Did every morsel of information travel so quickly? If so, I could not imagine what method was being used to pass the messages.

“How did you know?”

She shrugged and grinned. “Sister Greta came to visit with me after prayer meeting last night. She said your little boy was lost or had gone off somewhere and you could not find him. I am glad he was not injured. He is able to attend school today?”

“Yes, of course. Lukas went for a walk with his father instead of going to the tinsmith's shop.”

“To Brother Dirk's shop. Ja, I know. Sister Greta said that the boy goes there each day and spends time with Brother Dirk. She mentioned you went there after we came back from the field yesterday.”

“That's true. I did go there. I had planned to take Lukas to see his father, since I didn't have to help prepare supper last evening.”

I felt a strong need to defend my actions, yet I wasn't sure why.
Was it my own guilt because I'd relished the idea of seeing Dirk? Or was I angered because Greta and Dorothea had been discussing Lukas and me? Right now, I wasn't sure.

“Ja, is gut to have your evenings free so you can visit your husband. How is his health? Sister Greta says he has several injuries.”

Yesterday I had suggested Dorothea ask Greta about any possible plans to marry Dirk, but it seemed their entire visit had revolved around me and my family. “Did Greta mention Benjamin or Dirk during your visit last night? I know she must miss Benjamin a great deal.”

“For sure she is heartbroken that her Vater will not give his permission for them to wed, but that Greta—she is always thinking.” Dorothea touched her index finger to the side of her bonnet. “She is a girl who comes up with some gut plans. Always she has been the same—thinking of a way to get what she wants.”

“I am sorry her father was unwilling to accept Benjamin. He seemed like a nice young man.”

“Oh ja, he is a good fellow—so full of fun. He makes everyone laugh with his joking. And a gut heart, too. Always, he is ready to help others. Benjamin and Greta would make a gut pair, but her Vater is thinking she should marry Brother Dirk.”

“So she told you they are going to marry?”

“Nein. She told me her Vater wants her to marry Brother Dirk. That is not the same thing. I think Sister Hulda misspoke. Greta has not yet agreed to marry Brother Dirk.”

Dorothea chuckled. “Besides, first he would have to ask her.”

Relief washed over me like a spring freshet. I shouldn't have been so pleased. Both Greta and Dirk deserved happiness, but I was sure they would not find it with each other—at least that's what I wanted to believe. Right now, that thought made it easier for me to see them together.

Dirk

That afternoon I was pleased when Lukas bounded into the shop. I looked up from my work and motioned him forward. “I am glad to see you. Werner has traced some patterns for a new angel cookie cutter. You can cut them out for me.” I extended a pair of tin snips, but he didn't step forward. “You are going to stay and work, ja?”

“Are you angry because I went to see my papa yesterday?”

Lukas took a tentative step forward when I smiled. “Nein, I am not angry that you went to see him, but do you remember what I told you not long after your Vater arrived?”

As he bobbed his head, a corkscrew of brown curls fell across his forehead. “You said I should always stop by the shop first so you would know where I had gone.”

He moved close to my side and I turned on my work stool to face him. “Ja—so I would know where you were, but also so I would not worry about you.” I reached out and placed my arm around his shoulder. “Yesterday, both your Mutter and I were very worried about you. She has already told you this, ja?”

“Papa says she treats me like a baby. He says there is no reason for anyone to worry about me. He says I'm a big boy and I can take care of myself.”

“Is true you are a big boy, but even big boys do not want to worry others. They still want to please their Mutters. Werner is much older than you, but his Mutter would worry if he was not at work and she could not find him.” I turned and looked at Werner. “Is that not right, Werner?”

“Oh ja. The whole village would be able to hear her shouting
at me if I did such a thing. And I would not be allowed to go and have fun with my friends for many, many days—maybe two weeks,” he said, holding up two fingers.

The boy gaped at Werner. “Two weeks?”

I grinned at his high-pitched squeak. “I do not think your Mutter plans to be as strict with you, but you should remember that the Bible teaches that children should obey their parents.”

“Ja, but Papa said I didn't have to tell anyone but him what I was doing.”

My anger swelled. Why would a father teach his child to disobey? Such reckless instruction could lead Lukas into a pattern of rebellious behavior and conflict. Was Fred so eager to win his son's affection that he would set aside all sense of right and wrong? Or was Fred using his son to hurt Andrea? Surely not. Yet the thought lingered.

Brother Bosch and Dr. Karr believed there had been great improvement in Fred's demeanor. While he might be displaying good behavior in their presence, I doubted those changes were genuine.

I didn't want to dispute the boy's father openly, but Lukas needed to understand that he could not defy the wishes of his mother, the rules of the village, or God's commandments.

“Since you now understand how much worry your disappearance caused your Mutter and me, I hope you will abide by the rules we have given you. Even if your Vater tells you it is not necessary, I do not think you want to see your Mutter so displeased and worried again, ja?”

I did not want to overstep my limits with the boy, but the elders had recently assigned him to help in the shop after school. If Lukas remained in the village, I would eventually judge the boy's ability as a future apprentice, but I was also his mentor. While
Lukas was under my supervision, I was expected to train him to behave in an honorable manner.

Lukas stepped around me and traced his index finger around the angel's form that Werner had drawn on the piece of tin. “I know she was worried, 'cause she cried and hugged me real tight, but then she scolded me.” He looked up at me. “I would have stopped to tell you, but Papa said we were going to take a long walk so I should come straight to the doctor's office after school.” His lips quivered. “Are you still mad at me?”

“Nein.” I handed him the tin snips. “So, did you and your Vater go on a hike into the woods?”

He worried his lower lip between his teeth. “Papa said it was a secret.”

Once again, the secrets. Was there no end to Fred's manipulation of his son? “If you do not want to talk about where you went, you do not have to, Lukas.” I would not pressure the boy, although I wondered why a walk in the village should be kept secret.

He shot a smile in my direction. “I can tell you. You'll keep my secret.” He drew close, cupped his hands around his mouth, and whispered in my ear. “We walked part of the way on an old path behind Dr. Karr's office and then along the dirt road.”

Werner pushed away from the worktable and removed his leather apron. “I am going to go to the general store and pick up the mail.”

“Danke, Werner.”

Werner had already picked up the mail earlier in the day, but he had obviously sensed Lukas's discomfort and decided to give us some time alone. I didn't know if there was anything more that Lukas wanted to tell me, but I appreciated Werner's considerate behavior. He was becoming a fine apprentice, and his artistic talents continued to impress me, so I hoped to put his talents to use beyond my shop. Though I didn't know if the elders would
agree, I thought Werner's artistry might be used to paint pictures and provide added income. When I'd discussed the possibility with him, he'd been agreeable, though he'd been quick to say he didn't want to leave my shop. A fact that had warmed my heart.

Werner was gone only a few minutes when Lukas laid down the tin snips. “Papa got tired while we were walking and had to rest, so we didn't get as far as he wanted.”

“I am sorry to hear he got tired, but your Vater has made gut progress with his recovery. Very soon, I am sure he will be able to walk as far as he wants.”

The path Fred had taken surprised me. Instead of walking through the village, or along the well-trodden trails through the woods, he'd taken an overgrown path where he wouldn't be seen.

Was Fred attempting to leave with Lukas? Had he hoped to flag a train? But he had no money for train fare, and he wasn't strong enough to jump on and off a train like many of the hobos who sometimes arrived in the colonies. And what of Lukas—the boy could not have managed such a feat. No, Fred's plan had not been to depart on a train. Then again, perhaps he'd hoped a passing wagon would transport him to Marengo—but then what? I silently chided myself for harboring such worrisome thoughts. After all, Fred and the boy had returned, safe and sound.

Lukas leaned close. “Know what else?”

I smiled and shook my head. “No, what else?”

“We're gonna walk to my grandpa's farm.”

My stomach constricted and I stared at the boy. “You and your Vater? Is that where you were going yesterday?”

“Yes, but Papa said he was tired and his side hurt. I was glad 'cause I was tired, too. He says we'll go another day when he's stronger. But I hope he goes alone.”