A Simple Change (4 page)

Chapter 4

April 1881

The much anticipated letter from Amana arrived on a beautiful day in the middle of April. The contents of the missive were much like the spring weather: warm and welcoming. The elders' words of encouragement appeared to fortify my parents' decision. Like the sprouting trees outside my bedroom window, they were prepared to begin a new season of their lives.

In the garden below, fearless daffodils and crocus bloomed in full array, while the less hearty flowers peeked through the soft dirt as if uncertain whether to push up or remain hidden belowground a little longer. My behavior remained more aligned with the bulbs hiding beneath the dirt—tentative and unsure about the future.

Since my father's initial announcement that they would return to the colonies if granted permission, Mother had created a list of belongings she wished to take when we departed, and I'd been
doing my best to sort and separate the items to remain from the items to be packed. Mr. Hartzfeld had located a buyer for our house. A family moving from the East wanted to purchase not only the house but as many of the furnishings as we wished to leave for them.

Mother declared it a sure sign that the proper decision had been made. Though less effusive, my father had been pleased by the transaction. “One less thing to worry over,” he'd said after gaining my final assurance that I wouldn't later regret the sale. On the other hand, Nathan had been unhappy when I told him, expressing dismay at Father's plans to sell.

As the days passed after the sale of our home, I'd seen less of Nathan. His constant efforts to discourage me had created a breach of sorts, and when he'd last come to call, he told me he wouldn't return unless I sent word that I wanted to see him. Last night I wrote a note and asked Nathan to come to the house this evening if he was free.

I hurried downstairs before my father left for work and handed him the envelope. “Please don't tell Nathan we've received the letter of permission. I prefer to tell him myself.”

Father tucked the envelope into his pocket. “I won't say a word. I plan to speak with Mr. Hartzfeld, but I'll be going to his office. We need to make final arrangements regarding the business and the house as soon as possible.”

“Do we need to be in a great rush? There hasn't been any noticeable change in Mother's health. Of late I've even wondered if the doctor's assessment of her condition is incorrect.”

“Unfortunately, I'm sure the doctor is correct. He assures me he's spoken to his colleagues. They affirm they've seen other patients who experience this same muscular weakness, but they simply
don't have a cure. Like your mother, their patients have periods when they flourish and appear to be on the road to recovery, but it isn't permanent. He admonished me not to fall into the trap of believing she would get well.” A shadow of sadness veiled my father's eyes. “The doctor was clear: The best thing we can do is provide her with good nutrition and tranquil surroundings. Our new home in Amana will provide both.”

He sighed. “I have been praying we will be able to get settled in the colonies before I detect any further changes in her condition.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Thus far, God has heard and answered my prayers. I'd like to be prepared to depart by the end of the month.”

“And I am thankful for that, Father.” I waited until he'd left and then hurried to gather my cloak and the cloth tote bag I used to carry books and papers between school and home.

The elders' letter had placed a note of finality on my decision to leave Kansas City. Today I would tell Mr. Ludwig the awaited permission had arrived. When I'd originally told him of my plans to move, he'd expressed concern for the students. But since then, he'd made little effort to find a replacement. I had hoped he might secure a new teacher before I departed so the transition would be less difficult for the children. He later advised he hadn't put much effort into the task, since locating a qualified teacher willing to volunteer her services would likely prove impossible.

I had personally inquired among some of the unmarried young women who devoted their time to charity work, but none had been interested in assuming a full-time volunteer position. I'd momentarily taken heart when Mary Wolff had pulled me aside after church services last Sunday and made inquiry, but once she learned of Mr. Ludwig's engagement, her interest ceased and our conversation abruptly ended.

In the end, I'd been disheartened. If nobody stepped forward to help, it would make leaving all the more difficult. For a day or two I'd even considered remaining in Kansas City until a replacement could be found, but I soon realized that could take months—or even a year. I couldn't take a chance someone would soon be located—not with Mother's health on the decline.

Telling the children would be my most difficult challenge. I didn't want them to feel that I was deserting them, but I needed to be honest. To build false hope and tell them I would return to the orphanage wasn't fair—only time would tell what was in my future, and theirs.

As usual, Mr. Ludwig had taken his post outside his office door. He greeted each of the children by name as they passed him on the way to their classrooms. I wasn't certain if the morning ritual was a test of his memory or if he thought it bolstered the children's self-esteem. After the first few weeks, I'd expected him to cease the practice, but there had been no sign he intended to quit.

“Good morning, Miss Rhoder. How are you this fine day?”

“Fine, Mr. Ludwig.” I slowed my step as I approached and stopped beside him. “If you have a moment, I'd like to speak with you in private.”

His jaw twitched at the prospect of changing his daily habit, but he ushered me inside. “Is there a problem?”

Knowing he wanted to return to his regular post, I quickly explained this would be my final week at the school. “I do hope you can locate someone to replace me. Perhaps an ad in the newspaper might prove beneficial.”

He shook his head. “I don't think a newspaper advertisement would succeed in bringing a volunteer teacher to our doors. We will have to wait for God's provision.”

I wanted to tell him that sometimes God expects us to take action while we wait but decided such a comment might do more harm than good. “Then I will pray for Him to provide the perfect teacher.”

Seemingly pleased with my answer, Mr. Ludwig nodded and hurried back to his post outside the doorway. Sorrow weighed heavy on my shoulders as I trudged toward my classroom. Nettie Wilson skipped toward me, her wispy blond hair flying in all directions.

“Are we having story time today, Miss Jancey—I mean, Miss Rhoder?” She flashed a worried look toward Mr. Ludwig.

“Yes, but not until later this afternoon.” Telling the children during story time might help soften the blow. At least that was my hope.

We walked hand-in-hand to the classroom, where the other children had already gathered and were shuffling to their seats. For the remainder of the morning and early afternoon, I did my best to conduct classes in my usual manner. If the children noticed my inability to concentrate or to display my customary enthusiasm, they didn't comment. After they returned indoors from their afternoon playtime, I pulled my chair to the middle of the room and motioned for them to form a semicircle around the chair.

“We're going to end the day with story time today because I have a very special tale that I want to tell you.”

Caroline's hand shot into the air. “Is it a story we've heard before, Miss Rhoder?”

I smiled and shook my head. “No, it isn't.”

“Is it from a book, or is it one you're making up in your head?” Matthew Turner didn't bother to raise his hand before asking, but I didn't reprimand him.

“This isn't from a book.” As I looked into their expectant
faces, I burned this moment into my memory. I didn't want to forget any one of these children. Each one had become precious to me. Hot tears burned my eyes, and I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket.

“Why are you crying, Miss Rhoder?” Bertie wiggled forward, her lips quivering with concern.

“I think there's something in my eye.” I didn't tell Bertie it was tears. That wouldn't help matters in the least.

After inhaling slowly, I folded my hands in my lap and glanced around the room. “Many years ago, a young man and woman fell in love with each other and decided they wanted to get married.”

“
Eww
. Is this going to be a love story?” Matthew curled his lips and wrinkled his freckled nose.

I chuckled. “I won't talk about kissing. Does that help, Matthew?” He bobbed his head and grinned.

“As I was saying, this young couple decided to get married. They first lived in Iowa, but then they decided to move to Kansas City. Who can point to Iowa on the map?”

The map and globe, along with numerous other school materials, had been purchased by my father when he'd learned how few supplies we had at the orphanage school. Several of the children waved their hands and then watched as Caroline walked to the map and pointed.

“Excellent.” I gestured for her to remain where she was. “This young couple lived in southeast Iowa.” Turning in my chair, I looked at Caroline. “Now, point your finger to the southeast section of the state.” She hesitated only a moment before moving her hand. I nodded. “Good. Now, slowly move your finger until you reach Kansas City.” Caroline studied the map and then did as I'd instructed. I looked back at the circle of children. “That
doesn't look very far when you trace it on the map, but it's quite a distance when you're traveling by wagon over bumpy trails.” I motioned Caroline back to her place with the other children.

“Why'd they leave?” As usual, one of the younger children had forgotten to raise his hand.

“They'd been told they had to wait for a year before they could marry, but they didn't want to wait.”

“So they runned away?” Nettie's eyes were as big as saucers. “Were they scared?”

“I'm sure they were frightened, but they didn't want to give up their dream to get married right away, so they left their homes and everyone they knew and came to Kansas City.” I continued with the story, telling the children how my parents had struggled to make a life in a new place and how an older couple had extended both kindness and generosity to the young couple and later to their baby daughter.

“Many years later, the older couple made it possible for the young couple to purchase their business and live in a beautiful home, where they raised their daughter.”

“Then what happened to them?” With a bored expression, Matthew folded his arms across his chest. “Did they live happily ever after?”

“Almost. They sent their daughter to very fine schools, and she became a teacher.”

“Just like you,” Nettie chimed.

“Yes, just like me. But one day, the mother became very ill and she wanted to return to her home in Iowa so she could be close to former friends that she hadn't seen for many years. So her husband said that was what they would do. They would sell their business and their house, and they would return to their old home.”

Caroline waved at me. “What happened to their daughter? If they sold their house, where did she live?”

“She went with them,” Matthew replied. “That's what girls do—they live with their parents until they move in with their husband.”

Caroline leaned forward and glared at Matthew. “Not all girls! Some live in boardinghouses, don't they, Miss Rhoder?”

“That's true. Some young women do live on their own.”

Caroline shot a triumphant look at Matthew. “See? I told you.”

“However, that isn't what happened. In this story, the young woman leaves her teaching position and goes to live with her parents in Iowa.”

“Ha!” Matthew assumed a victorious pose. “Told you so.”

I held my finger to my lips. “No more interruptions, please.” I glanced around the room. “The daughter prayed and asked for God's help with her decision because she didn't want to leave the children at the school, but she wanted to be with her sick mother and help care for her, too.” I leaned back in my chair. “Let's create an ending for this story together, shall we? Who'd like to go first?”