A Simple Change (2 page)

Reaching my destination, I stepped off the trolley and walked the short distance to our home, a large house with a sweeping front porch and giant columns—a stark contrast to the small spaces allocated to the children in the orphanage. This house was far more magnificent than any home my parents had ever expected to own. God had been gracious to them—at least that was my father's opinion. Even though I believed my father deserved some of the credit, he vehemently disagreed.

When I attempted to argue, my father would always say the
same thing: “Many men are industrious, but most have not been rewarded with so many blessings. God has blessed us: There is no other explanation.”

Sometimes I wondered what he truly thought about Mother's illness. If he considered his financial success a reward from God, did he believe her poor health a punishment? Only once did I broach the subject with him. He'd opened his Bible to John chapter sixteen, pointed to verses twenty through twenty-three, and told me to read the passage.

When I finished, he looked at me over his wire-rimmed spectacles. His words remain etched in my mind.
“We are not promised a life without suffering. That verse reveals that we
will
suffer. But we can remain filled with joy because we have a Savior who has overcome the world. It is suffering that makes us grow and cling to the Lord. It reveals our need for Him. When life is easy, we tend to forget how much we need the Lord. Do you understand?”

Although I'd nodded my head in agreement, I hadn't totally understood. And I still don't. My mother was a good and faithful woman who deserved good health and happiness. Surely God knew that. How could she be filled with joy when she experienced such pain? My father said I should simply accept the ways of the Lord, but late at night I continue to question Him.

“Is that you, Jancey?” My father's voice drifted toward me as I stepped into the hallway.

“Yes, it's me, Father.” My stomach tightened. Why was he home so early? His days never ended until six o'clock—sometimes later. “Is something wrong?” Quickly removing my brocaded velvet cloak, I rushed up the stairs and down the hallway toward the upstairs sitting room. Still feeling the winter chill, I rubbed my arms as I entered the room.

My parents sat side by side, my mother's dainty fingers secured between my father's callused hands. She appeared to be doing well. I inhaled a deep breath and released the tenseness that pinched my muscles.

“I was afraid your health had taken a downward turn.” I smiled at my mother and stepped closer to the fire burning in the heating stove. “What brings you home so early, Father?”

Deep creases that I hadn't initially noticed lined his forehead. “For a while now, your mother and I have been considering a change.” The two of them exchanged a quick glance, and I saw the worried look in my father's blue eyes that were a clear match of my own. “Come and sit down, Jancey.”

My earlier apprehension returned in an unexpected rush. I stepped forward and settled beside him. “What sort of change?”

We'd already made a number of changes to the house in order to accommodate Mother's declining health. The current sitting room had once been a guest bedroom, and we'd even moved the dining table to one end of the room in order to take our meals together when Mother couldn't navigate the stairs. There didn't seem to be any other changes we could make.

My father massaged his forehead, but the deep creases remained. “We are planning to move away from Kansas City. To Iowa. Back to the Amana Colonies.”

My mouth turned dry and I stared at him. Surely I'd misunderstood.

Chapter 2

I attempted to make sense of what I'd just heard, but I simply couldn't. My father's announcement made no sense. My clenched fingers ached and turned chalky as I waited for further explanation.

My father patted my hands. “I know this comes as a bit of a surprise, but we didn't want to say anything until we'd made a final decision. Of course, we haven't received permission yet, so there is a possibility we won't be able to return. But your mother thought we should tell you so that you would have time to make your own plans.”

My mind spun like a whirling top. “I don't understand.” At the moment, I couldn't even think of an intelligent question.

“Of course you don't.” My mother touched my father's sleeve. “You must start at the beginning, Jurgen.”

My father frowned. “I'm not so sure where the beginning is,
but I will do my best.” He leaned back and inhaled a deep breath. “I suppose this all began with the onset of your mother's illness.”

I nodded and urged him to continue.

“The doctor was here again today. Over the past few weeks, he has told us that your mother's condition has worsened, and there is nothing that can be done for her.”

Fear and anger collided like a raging storm within me. “Then we should find another doctor. I don't believe him.”

My mother shook her head. “You don't want to believe him, but what he says is true. I have no desire to be probed and checked by any more doctors. Each one has told us the same thing.” Her gaze rested on my clenched hands. “Becoming angry at the doctor or my illness won't change my condition.”

How could she remain so calm? And why were they thinking of returning to Iowa? Neither of them had mentioned the Amana Colonies in years—unless they'd been privately talking about the past. That must be it. Making such a drastic decision couldn't have been something they'd decided in the past few hours. Though they hadn't included me, there was little doubt they'd been making plans for some time now. I'd usually been included when my parents considered matters of importance, especially those that would affect all of us. I wanted to ignore the feeling of betrayal, but a pang of resentment had already taken hold.

“If you are as ill as the doctor says, you should be here where you can receive proper medical care. Why would you even consider traveling? To move at this time would create a tremendous hardship on both of you.”

My father tapped his index finger against his lips. “If you will let me talk, I will tell you.”

I curled my lips inward, determined to remain silent, and nodded for him to speak.

“Your mother longs to spend her final days in the familiar surroundings of the colonies. We still have friends living there, and it would give her joy to reunite with them. There is a simple life in Amana that she longs to experience once again.” My father stood and crossed the room. He stared out the window for a moment and then turned to face me. “The move will not be difficult. We won't take much. I'll have some of the furniture shipped, but our needs will be supplied once we are there. Unless you want to remain in the house, we'll sell it. My lawyer can handle the details.”

My throat caught at his casual mention of selling the house, and I shuddered at the idea. All our family memories were in this house. “You plan to sell it?”

My father arched his brows. “Not if you wish to remain here.”

I didn't know a great deal about the Amana Colonies. My parents had told me bits and pieces, but I'd never questioned them about their life in Iowa. It had never seemed particularly important to me. Until now. Question after question raced through my mind, yet my lips wouldn't move.

My father's eyebrows settled low on his forehead as he waited for me to respond. “Do you think you would like to remain in the house, Jancey?”

“Yes. No. I mean, I don't know what I want. This is so unexpected. The two of you have had time to weigh your decisions, but this is all so . . . so . . . unbelievable.” I turned to my mother and looked deep into her gray eyes. “This is what you desire? To live the remainder of your life in Amana? To leave everything behind?”

In a period of only a few minutes, my life had been turned upside down. In spite of the warmth from the blazing fireplace, a
chill settled over my bones. In that moment I was certain nothing would ever again be the same for us. I wanted to run from the room and return to yesterday and the day before. I didn't want to continue down this path to an unknown world filled with strangers and a different life.

My mother bowed her head. “I know this is hard for you, Jancey, and I will understand if you decide to remain in Kansas City. This is the only home you've ever known. Adjusting to a different way of living is very difficult, and unless you truly want to come, it is better that you remain here.”

“But why, Mother? Why do you want to go there after all these years? I don't understand.” My voice cracked with emotion.

She looked up, tears glistening in her eyes. “I wish I could explain this need that has come over me.” She patted her hand on her chest. “It is a feeling deep inside that tells me I should return home to Middle Amana. I have tried to ignore the urgency that's come over me, but it's been impossible. Your father and I agree that such strong conviction should not be ignored. By us.” My mother added the final two words as she glanced at my father. “And though I would prefer to have you come along, your father and I agree that you should pray and decide what is best for you.”

I couldn't imagine God sending me an answer to the many questions that now deluged my mind. “I'd have to leave the children at the orphanage. And there's Nathan.” I twisted around and looked at my father. “What about the construction company? Are you going to sell the business as well as the house? What will happen to those men who depend upon you for their jobs?” My attempt to speak in a calm manner failed. Instead, my voice tremored in an eerie pitch that exposed my chaotic emotions.

Father returned to the couch and sat beside me. “I can see your
distress. I think we should have waited to tell you until after we received word from the elders. If we don't receive permission to return, we will have caused you great worry for nothing.” He peered over my shoulder toward my mother. “Your mother and I debated about when was the best time to tell you, but I fear we came to the wrong conclusion.”

I shook my head with enough vigor to send one of my hairpins flying onto the Axminster carpet. “I disagree. You should have told me much earlier. Had I known from the beginning, I could have digested the news in small doses. Instead, I must swallow it all in one giant gulp.” I touched my throat. “And it isn't going down very well.”

My father reached down, retrieved the hairpin, and handed it to me. “It wasn't our intention to hurt you. We were trying to protect you.”

The sadness in his voice tugged at my heart. My parents would never intentionally hurt me. Yet how did my father think he had protected me? To argue against what they had done would change nothing for the better. Already I could see my mother flagging under the strain.

I clasped her hand. “You need to rest. Let me take you to your room.”

She didn't disagree and willingly permitted me to help her to bed. When I returned to the sitting room, I expected my father to postpone further discussion until later, but he motioned me forward.

“Your mother is very tired today. Between the doctor's visit and her worry over telling you our plans, she's exhausted.” He glanced toward the hallway. “Would you prefer to stay up here, or shall we go downstairs and finish our talk?”

“We can go downstairs and I'll make a pot of coffee.” His smile was enough to tell me I'd given the answer he desired. “But I have many questions.”

He nodded. “And I will answer them as best I can.”

The expectation of a warm meal waiting at home had disappeared while I was upstairs with my parents, but once I neared the kitchen and smelled the aroma of a hearty stew, my mouth watered in anticipation.

I glanced over my shoulder at my father. “Mrs. Oelwine has already gone home?”

“Yes. Your mother explained that we would be eating late and asked her to prepare something that would remain warm.” He raised his nose and sniffed the air. “Smells like soup or beef stew.”

Although Mrs. Oelwine could prepare fancy dishes, extravagant meals weren't served unless we entertained. Neither of my parents enjoyed the social gatherings that had been thrust upon them when my father had become the owner of Forsythe Construction Company, and he'd done his best to expand the business without the trappings of elaborate parties and other social functions attended by business owners in the community.

After grinding coffee beans and filling the pot with water, I sat down at the kitchen table opposite my father. “I'm not certain what I want to ask first.”

My father's eyes radiated understanding. “Upstairs you appeared surprised I would sell the house, so let me explain. Your mother and I agreed that if you decided to come with us, it would be preferable to place the house for sale, as we would no longer have the necessary income to pay taxes or insure the property. In addition, if no one lived here, the house would fall into a state of disrepair. We also considered the possibility of renting it, but that
poses an additional set of problems. The rental moneys would not be ours to keep. I would be obligated to donate those funds to the community. In addition, we would still be responsible for taxes, insurance, and maintenance of the property. However, if you decide to remain here, we will deed the house to you.”

My stomach churned at the thought of such monumental decisions. I stood and walked to the cabinet and removed two cups and saucers. “But then I must worry about all of those expenses you've mentioned, and with no salary from the orphanage, I couldn't possibly manage the upkeep on the house.”

He nodded. “So now you more clearly understand why I said we would sell the house?”

While placing the cups and saucers on the table, I halfheartedly admitted my understanding, though I wanted to argue that if they would remain in Kansas City, our lives could continue as usual. Rather than ask God for guidance, perhaps I should pray that the elders deny my parents' request. A sudden pang of guilt caused me to push the thought aside.

“You also asked me about the business, and that is an even greater dilemma to solve. With Simon Hartzfeld's help, I am working on a plan.”

My father's lawyer had provided Father with capable guidance for many years, so I was sure Mr. Hartzfeld had developed an excellent plan.

“What sort of plan, Father? Do the workers already know about this?”

A slight gleam shone in my father's blue eyes. “Are you asking because you are concerned about the workers, or because you wonder if Nathan has been keeping secrets from you?”

“Both.” My one-word response sounded more austere than I'd
intended, and I hurried to expand my answer. “Most of the men are married and have families. For them to suddenly hear the news I have just learned would be devastating. How could all of them expect to find work?” Without giving him an opportunity to answer, I continued. “Forsythe Construction is known throughout Kansas City as a flourishing company. I'm certain your employees believe their jobs are secure. You will be dealing a terrible blow to men who have been loyal to you and your business. As for Nathan keeping secrets, I can say it would cause me unease.”

“Nathan knows nothing of this, so you can lay aside those worries.” My father folded his hands atop the table. “I appreciate your concern for those who work at the construction company. Other than the impact this move would cause for you, those men and their families have been at the forefront of my mind. That is why I've been working with Simon. He believes that by the time our current construction contracts have been completed, a qualified buyer will step forward to purchase the business. As part of that contract, we will insist that the workers be retained for a period of one year.”