Judith Miller - [Daughters of Amana 01]
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Authors: Somewhere to Belong
SOMEWHERE
To
BELONG
JUDITH MILLER
SOMEWHERE
To
BELONG
Somewhere to Belong
Copyright © 2010
Judith Miller
Cover design by Lookout Design, Inc.
Cover photography by Aimee Christenson
With special recognition to The Amana Historical Society.
Scripture quotations unless otherwise identified are from the King James Version of the Bible.
Scripture quotations identified NIV are from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION.
®
Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Printed in the United States of America
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Miller, Judith, 1944–
Somewhere to belong / Judith Miller.
p. cm. — (Daughters of Amana)
ISBN 978-0-7642-0642-9 (pbk.)
1. Young women—Fiction. 2. Amana Society—Fiction. [1. Iowa—History—19th century—Fiction.] I. Title.
PS3613.C3858S66 2010
813'.6—dc22
2009040683
Dedicated to
Mary Greb-Hall . . .
for the many years of
friendship and valuable assistance.
Books by
Judith Miller
FROM BETHANY HOUSE PUBLISHERS
________________
BELLS OF LOWELL*
Daughter of the Loom
•
A Fragile Design
These Tangled Threads
LIGHTS OF LOWELL*
A Tapestry of Hope
•
A Love Woven True
The Pattern of Her Heart
FREEDOM’S PATH
First Dawn
Morning Sky
•
Daylight Comes
THE BROADMOOR LEGACY*
A Daughter’s Inheritance
An Unexpected Love
•
A Surrendered Heart
POSTCARDS FROM PULLMAN
In the Company of Secrets
Whispers Along the Rails
•
An Uncertain Dream
The Carousel Painter
DAUGHTERS OF AMANA
Somewhere to Belong
*with Tracie Peterson
JUDITH MILER is an award-winning author whose avid research and love for history are reflected in her novels, many of which have appeared on the CBA bestseller lists. Judy and her husband make their home in Topeka, Kansas.
Come with me from Lebanon, my bride,
come with me from Lebanon. Descend from the crest of Amana,
from the top of Senir, the summit of Hermon,
from the lions’ dens and the mountain haunts of the leopards.
SONG OF SOLOMON 4:8 NIV
Contents
March 1877
Amana Colonies, Iowa
Johanna Ilg
Rigid as a barn pole, I stood planted in the parlor doorway with my gaze fixed upon the pink feather-and-plume bedecked hat. Sparkling pins held it atop wavy dark tresses that crimped and coiled. The girl’s hair reminded me of the curly leaf lettuce we forced to early growth in our hotbeds each spring. An artificial rose peeked from beneath the curvy brim like a vigilant watchman. Although the visitors to our villages sometimes adorned themselves in outlandish costumes, the hat perched upon this young lady’s head surpassed anything I’d ever seen. She appeared rather young to be wearing such an ornate headpiece. Not that I could imagine anyone attaining any age where they thought that hat becoming.
Touching her fingers to the garish chapeau, the girl’s lips curved in a patronizing smile. She’d obviously noted my attention. “The latest fashion from England. My parents purchased it for me on their last visit.”
My mother waved me forward. “Come in and meet our guests, Johanna.” I tried to force myself to look away from the hat, but my eyes betrayed me as I stepped into the room. I couldn’t stop staring at the unsightly mixture of fabric and fluff. My mother cleared her throat. “Come, Johanna. Meet Dr. and Mrs. Schumacher and their daughter, Berta. They arrived only a short time ago. You remember we’ve been expecting them.”
I turned toward the well-dressed couple who sat side by side on our horsehair-stuffed divan. Berta, who looked to be sixteen or seventeen years old, had obviously inherited her dark curls and fine features from her mother. As if prepared to take flight at the earliest possible moment, the girl sat balanced at the edge of her chair. And given the size of her hat, it would take only a slight wind to carry her aloft.
“I am very pleased to welcome you to Amana. I hope you will be happy living among us.”
Berta’s dark eyes widened to huge proportions. She shook her head with such fervor I expected the decorations to tumble from her hat. “Living?” She glanced around our parlor with a look of disdain. “We are merely vacationing for a short time. My father’s family is from Germany, and we have a distant relative living in Middle Amana. My father thought this would be a pleasant place for our family to
visit
. I think he wanted to provide us a glimpse of his homeland without the expense of a voyage to Europe. Isn’t that correct, Father?” When Dr. Schumacher didn’t immediately reply, Berta leaned forward in her chair, her eyes flashing with impatience. “Well,
isn’t it
, Father?” Her voice had raised several decibels and panic edged her words.
One look at my mother confirmed that I’d misspoken. I longed to stuff the welcome back into my mouth, but that wasn’t possible. The damage had been done. Yet no one had forewarned me. How was I to know Berta hadn’t been advised of her father’s plans to move his family to the Amana Colonies?
The multistriped woven carpet that covered the parlor floor muffled the stomp of Berta’s foot. I arched my brows and glanced toward my mother. The girl was behaving like an undisciplined two-year-old.
“Father?”
“Now, Berta, please. You must remain calm.” Mrs. Schumacher unclipped a hand-painted fan from her waist and handed it to her daughter. “Use this. I don’t want you fainting and embarrassing yourself.”
Berta grabbed the fan from her mother’s hand and slapped it atop her skirt. “I don’t need a fan. What I need is an answer to my question.” She waited only a moment. “Well, Father? How long will we be visiting in Amana?”
Dr. Schumacher shifted toward his daughter and inhaled a deep lungful of air. “We will be making our new home here in Iowa, Berta. I trust you will remain quiet until we can speak in private. I should have told you before we embarked on the journey, but I wanted to avoid a scene.”
“Did you?” Berta jumped to her feet, a horror-stricken look in her eyes. “You don’t really believe I’ll agree to live in this place, do you?”
Before either of her parents could respond, our parlor door opened and my father entered the room with his flat felt cap pressed between his callused fingers. A few pieces of straw clung to his dark work pants. He smiled, and crinkles formed along the outer edges of his sparkling eyes. Today his eyes appeared green.
When I was five or six years old, I’d asked him about the color of his eyes. He’d told me they were hazel, but my mother said they were brown. I argued they couldn’t be both.
“Hazel is light brown,” he’d explained before scooping me onto his lap. “But hazel eyes change and look different colors depending on what you wear. Sometimes they look green, and at other times you can see golden flecks.” He’d nuzzled my neck. “Some people call them cat eyes. Do you think I look like a cat?” he’d asked. Remembrance of that long-ago conversation warmed me. I was glad Father was home. Perhaps his easy manner would calm Berta.
He extended his hand and stepped toward the doctor.
“Willkom-men!”
His deep voice filled the room. “We are pleased to have you join our community and to have another doctor in the villages.”
Berta glared at my father as though he’d committed a crime. “We won’t be staying in Amana, Mr. Ilg.”