A Simple Change (8 page)

“I am thankful for your kindness, Sister Hanna.” Even though I would have preferred to go back and tend to my mother, I knew Sister Hanna would see to her care as well as I could.

“Ja, and I am thankful for the time you take to work with my Madelyn. She is so happy to have you help her with her reading.”

“I'm thankful for her help, as well. Your suggestion that she read from
Kinderstimme
has proved to be a great help to both of us. The book is teaching me the rules used to guide children in humility and simplicity.” I didn't mention that I feared young Madelyn had memorized most of the rules and we should move on to something else. For now, we would use the book.

The wooden sidewalk ended and we walked down the dirt road until we neared the three-story brick mill. Sister Hanna pointed to a long frame building not far away. “This is where you will be working.”

As we drew near the door, a loud crash sounded from inside the building. Sister Hanna hurried through the doorway, and I followed close on her heels. I nearly bumped into her when she stopped short.

“Watch out for the water! I spilled both buckets.” A young woman wearing a dark plaid dress pointed to the floor. A brown smudge dirtied one of her cheeks, and strands of blond hair poked out from beneath her bonnet.

The room where Margaret had spilled the water was a large parlor or sitting room of sorts. At one end, there were two wooden tables with chairs around them, likely where the men played cards or wrote letters. Two overstuffed divans and another large chair had been arranged on the other side of the room. Small tables with kerosene lamps sat at either end of the massive divans. Though the room didn't reflect a great deal of warmth, it provided a place for the men to relax before going to bed, and with windows lining both sides of the room, it was brighter than the rooms where the children attended classes in the orphanage.

Sister Hanna smiled. “Well, you need only add some soap and you can begin to scrub the floors, Sister Margaret.” She took a backward step as the water slowly spread toward her feet. She grasped my arm. “This is Sister Jancey, who has come to work with you. Brother Herman told you about her, ja?”

“Ja, he told me a long time ago. I almost forgot.” She circled around the water. “If you come this way, your shoes will stay dry.”

I bid Sister Hanna good-bye. “If Mother should need me, you'll send word, won't you?”

“She will be fine. Now let me get on my way so that your Mutter may enjoy her breakfast before it grows cold.”

Sister Hanna was out the door before I realized she hadn't agreed to come and get me if Mother should take a turn for the worse. Though I longed to run after her and require she answer me, Sister Margaret had already thrust a scrub brush in my direction.

“It isn't the day I usually scrub the floors, but we have to clean up this water. Besides, if we do it now, we won't have to do it on Friday and maybe we can leave early.” She dropped to her knees without regard for her skirt.

I remained a short distance from the pooling water. “Perhaps if we used a broom or mop to spread the water around a bit, it would be easier and not quite so messy.”

“There's a broom in the corner of the other room you can use if you like. I'm already wet, so I'll just keep scrubbing.” She sat back on her heels and signaled for me to wait. “I'll finish this mess I made with the water. No need for you to get wet, too. You can strip the sheets from the beds and put them in those baskets with the men's dirty clothes.” She pointed to several large laundry baskets near the door leading outside. “You can use the fresh sheets stacked on that table in the corner to make the beds.”

Carrying a large oval laundry basket in each hand, I strode into the adjoining room and placed one of the handmade baskets on either side of the room. They were sturdier than the ones we'd used at home, but like most things in the colonies, these baskets were woven by an Amana craftsman. They were created to withstand heavy use and endure the test of time.

As I stared at the rows of iron bedframes that lined each side of the room, I recalled the sleeping quarters at the orphanage.
The beds in this room were larger and of much better quality than those in the Charity Home, and I quickly observed the sheets and blankets weren't worn or frayed, either. In addition, bright sunlight shone through the windows above these beds and provided a sense of cheeriness—something the children would have enjoyed. Although the men might have little privacy in this dormitory, their lodging was finer than I'd expected, and much more pleasant than the stark and dreary accommodations provided for the orphan children.

Pulling the sheets from the beds and gathering them in my arms as I went, I made my way down the row of beds. After dumping the dirty linens in one of the sturdy baskets, I continued back up the row of beds on the opposite side of the room. Removing the sheets would take much less time than making each of the beds—especially for me, as I'd had little practice. However, it didn't appear the beds had been made with a great deal of care, and I doubted the men would expect perfection.

While I snapped a clean sheet in the air and watched it float onto the lumpy hog-hair mattress, I recalled the Bible verse my father had paraphrased earlier in the morning. I stared at the row of beds and wondered if there was any way I could heartily perform this work as an offering to the Lord.

Making the beds had taken longer than I'd expected, but I felt a certain sense of pride as I stood in the center of the room and stared at the perfectly aligned sheets and blankets. Using the corner of my apron, I wiped the perspiration from my forehead.

“They look gut. Better than when I make them, for sure. And you finished much faster, too. My Mutter says I'm slow as a snail, and my Vater says I try to move too fast. I guess they are both right, because when I scurry around I end up with a mess that
slows me down.” She glanced toward the other room. “I got the water cleaned up. As soon as it dries, we can dust in there.”

It seemed Sister Margaret understood the cause of her mishaps, but she hadn't yet decided how to overcome the problem.

“Is there a schedule you use for cleaning, Sister Margaret?”

“Ja, except when I spill water or I drop a stack of folded sheets. Then my schedule is ruined.” She giggled. “We are to scrub the floors and change the sheets once a week. Each day we sweep the floors, dust, straighten anything that is out of order, and put water in the pitchers. If I have time, I straighten the beds, since the men usually leave them unmade.”

“Is that everything?” I inhaled a deep breath.

She shook her head. “Nein. And then there's washday. We launder the sheets and towels, and some of the men pay to have us wash their clothes.” She pointed to the baskets where I'd placed the sheets. “All of those we will do tomorrow.”

Laundry for all these men? What had I gotten myself into?

Chapter 8

Two weeks later, a letter from Nathan arrived. The envelope was balanced against one of the kerosene lamps in a conspicuous manner, likely the work of my mother, who had inquired about Nathan on several occasions. It seemed she and Father had teamed together to assure themselves I didn't regret my choice to join them. Neither seemed willing to accept my protestations that their decision hadn't interfered with plans to marry Nathan—or anyone else, for that matter.

I picked up the letter and tucked it into my pocket before peeking around the corner to see if Mother was awake. Since taking a downward turn, the doctor, Brother Rudolf Zedler, had called upon her each day. And though he couldn't do anything to cure her, he said we shouldn't be overly concerned. He believed she would soon feel somewhat better, though he'd
advised we should expect these ailing bouts to become more frequent. Father didn't mention that we'd become quite accustomed to them back in Kansas City, but I could see the worry in his eyes. Like me, he hoped the doctors were wrong and we would see a recovery.

“I didn't know if I was dreaming or if I heard the door close.” Mother forced a feeble smile. “Did you see the letter from Nathan? What does he have to say?”

I patted the pocket of my dress. “I haven't yet read it.” Her eyes darted to my skirt. She wanted me to read the letter. Shoving my hand into the pocket, I removed the envelope and slid my finger beneath the seal. After quickly scanning the pages, I shrugged one shoulder. “He says that work is going fine and he has been very busy.”

My mother frowned. “In two pages, that is all he said?”

“He also said that once they have finished all of their work, maybe he will come to Middle Amana for a visit. He asked if I am happy and said that he is still willing to offer marriage if I am so inclined.”

Arching her brows, my mother stared at me. “And since this is not the life you ever intended for yourself, perhaps you shouldn't refuse his offer. I am feeling very selfish that you have given up everything to come here.” She swiped at a tear that rolled down her cheek.

“Mother, please do not cry. Over and over, I have told you and Father that I have not agreed to marry Nathan. I don't know him well enough, and we have many differences, both in what we believe and what we desire for the future. I don't know how I can do anything more to assure you that I came here because I wanted to and I do not count it a sacrifice. If I decide that I
can't be happy in the colonies, I will return to Kansas City. You have my word.”

She inhaled a ragged breath and gave a slight nod. “Good. Then I will not mention this again.” Her eyelids drooped. “Sister Hanna brought me my medicine a short time ago and my eyes are heavy.”

I patted her hand. “You sleep. It is the best medicine.”

Her soft snores reached my ears as I departed the room. I sat down in the parlor and reread Nathan's letter. He'd mentioned nothing of the children at the orphanage even though he'd promised to visit. Then again, that promise had been made before he truly believed I was going to leave. Pushing up from the sofa, I walked to my bedroom and sat down at the small desk we'd brought from Kansas City. Pulling a sheet of stationery from one of the drawers, I dipped my pen and began a letter to Nathan.

After thanking him for his letter and telling him of Mother's health and my work, I stared at the page, and then dipped my pen into the inkpot.

I don't know if you've stopped at the Charity Home since I've departed, but I'm eager for news of the children. If you have time, I'd be appreciative if you could stop and ask Mr. Ludwig if he would encourage them to write me. I provided him with stamped envelopes prior to our departure. I'd enjoy hearing from Miss Manchester, as well. I don't want to impose, but I would count it a great kindness if you could look in on the children and give me a short report.

As to your suggestion of a visit, please be aware that the colonies offer little in the way of entertainment. I recall how much you enjoyed attending parties and the theater when
we first met. This is not a place where you will discover such leisure. Our lives are quite simple, and you will have to make do without many of the conveniences to which you are accustomed. Of course, the final decision is yours.

I looked at the closing at the end of Nathan's letter and shook my head.
Yours always, Nathan.
I tried to imagine him hunched over the piece of writing paper while deciding upon the final words to close his letter—much as I'd been doing for several minutes. I doubted Nathan would always be mine, so I needed to select something different. However, if I simply signed it
Sincerely
or
Your friend,
he would likely be hurt or take offense. Though I doubted we would have a future together, who could say for sure. Besides, I didn't relish the idea of hurting Nathan's feelings.

The sound of my father's footsteps jarred me to action. The bell would soon ring to announce we should depart for supper. I dipped my pen one last time and scribbled,
Always, Jancey.
Whether the simple word carried enough benevolence to please Nathan, I did not know. But under the circumstances, it was as much as I thought I should offer.

After the first few nights of Madelyn's lessons, Ritt had begun to appear. He'd sit quietly and listen while his sister read from
Kinderstimme
. After she completed her reading, I'd give Madelyn a list of spelling words to practice. Occasionally, he would offer to listen to her spell, but it didn't take long for me to discover that his spelling wasn't much better than Madelyn's. Unless he held the list of words, he didn't know whether she was right or wrong. Once I'd become aware of his inability to be of genuine
assistance, I refrained from accepting any further offers from him.

I was glad my declinations hadn't stopped him from attending our sessions each evening, and I wondered if he was joining us in an attempt to advance his own education. The idea seemed silly, because I was certain he could read beyond the level of
Kinderstimme.
Yet why else would he continue to sit and listen while I instructed his sister? I didn't want to cause him embarrassment, but if he hoped to further his education, I wanted to help him.

I'd not forgotten his remarks that Madelyn need not worry about broadening her abilities, but I'd been thankful her mother and father hadn't agreed. Both of them had proved supportive of my efforts to help her. In fact, beginning next week two other children would join us for additional help. Sister Hanna had told the women in the Küche of Madelyn's progress, and two of the sisters asked if their children might be included. After inquiring of Brother Werner as well as Brother Herman and Brother Wieler and receiving no objection, it was agreed the two other children would meet with us three evenings a week after prayer service. I didn't know if the children would enjoy the extra lessons or for how long they might continue, but at least it would provide me with an opportunity to use my teaching skills, and for that I was grateful.

“So what words are on your spelling list this evening, Madelyn?” Ritter asked. “It appears Sister Jancey is busy correcting some of your lessons, so I will help you, if you'd like.” He stretched forward to examine the list, but Madelyn snatched it away.

“I haven't studied them yet.” After laying the paper atop the table, she stood. “I need a drink of water, but I'll be right back. Would you like a glass of water, Sister Jancey?”

I looked up and shook my head. “Danke, I am not thirsty.” Once Madelyn stepped from the room, I turned toward Ritt. “I was wondering if you were joining us in the evenings because you are interested in some special lessons, Brother Ritt. Perhaps some advanced classes in mathematics or science?”

Confusion clouded his eyes. “Lessons? Nein, I have no interest in any more schooling. I was most pleased when those days of sitting in the classroom ended.” He grinned and cocked his head to one side. “You really don't know why I sit here each evening, do you?”

I shook my head. “If it's not because you want to further your education, I have no idea.”

He leaned forward and rested his arms across his knees. His hazel eyes flickered in the lamplight. “Because I enjoy being near you. You're different than other young women. I have a desire to know you better.” He touched his palm to his chest. “I was hoping you would feel the same about me.”

I had noticed Ritt's good looks and kind nature, but I'd observed nothing in his manner to denote he'd taken an interest in me. Then again, things were different between men and women in the colonies, so I hadn't expected to draw the attention of any man while living here. While many members eventually married, remaining single was considered preferable, because those who did not marry could devote more time to their spiritual lives without impediment.

His remark rendered me speechless and he chuckled. “I see I have surprised you. You did not know at all?”

“No, but I am flattered.” Heat seared my cheeks. What a foolish reply. Now he would think I welcomed his attention. He was a nice man, but I wasn't certain how long I would be here. It would be
wrong to encourage his attention. Then again, what if I decided to remain in Middle Amana?

“Maybe you would consider going with me to the river a week from Saturday for a picnic?” He waited a moment before hastening to add, “Not alone. There will be a group of people our age who are going to fish and enjoy the afternoon.”

The idea appealed to me, not so much because of Ritt—though I wanted to know him better—but because it would give me an opportunity to become acquainted with some of the other young people in the village. Working with only Sister Margaret and caring for Mother hadn't provided much opportunity for me to interact with others.

“If my mother is feeling well enough for me to be away, I think I would like to go. Thank you for asking me.”

“Go where?” Madelyn stood in the doorway. “Are you and Ritt going somewhere? I want to go, too.”

Ritt frowned and touched his ear. “It is impolite to listen in on others.”

“I wasn't. I finished my water and came back to study my spelling words. You're the one who shouldn't be in the parlor with us. You're not taking lessons. When Eveline and Anna and Bretta come for their lessons, you need to stay away. There won't be enough room for you. Besides, they'll be embarrassed to have you watching.”

Ritt arched his brows. “And where do you think I should spend the evenings? Sitting in my bedroom?”

Madelyn didn't hesitate for a minute. “You can go downstairs with Mutter and Vater.”

Since we'd begun her lessons, Sister Hanna and Brother Werner had been going downstairs to visit with my parents. Usually Sister Hanna took her stitching and sat in the bedroom visiting
Mother, while Brother Werner and my father visited in the parlor. I doubted Ritt would enjoy sitting with the two men, but Madelyn was right. The girls would take up most of the space, and his presence wouldn't be welcomed.