Judith Miller - [Daughters of Amana 01] (5 page)

I bobbed my head at the older woman and then glared at Berta. “Follow me!”

She grasped my arm as I stormed from the room. “Don’t be angry, Hanna.”

I tugged her along until we were away from the sisters who were cleaning and paring the vegetables for our next meal. For years, the women assigned to the job had been designated “paring-knife sisters.” When weather permitted, they sat on the back porch with their wooden trays on their laps and talked or sang hymns while they worked.

This was one time I didn’t want them to hear what I had to say. When we’d neared the garden shed, I swirled around. “My name is Johanna,
not
Hanna.” My tightly clenched jaw ached.

Berta shrugged and grinned at me. “Then I’ll call you Johanna. I don’t understand why you and Sister Muhlbach are so angry. I was eating breakfast. Don’t I get to eat?”

“Yes, you get to eat, but you do not eat with the men. Didn’t you see the men were seated at tables separate from the women and children? Wasn’t it clear to you that we do not eat at the same tables? And didn’t Sister Muhlbach tell you to refrain from conversing with the men?” I pointed to my ear. “Do you have a hearing problem?”

Berta rubbed her ear. “I didn’t used to, but who can tell by now. Did you see the way that woman pulled me up from the bench? I think my ear stretched at least two inches. Does it look any longer than the other one?”

As she turned her ear toward me, I could see she genuinely expected me to check it. “You aren’t hurt. And that’s not the least of what will happen to you if you continue this behavior. Perhaps you’re better suited for some other work.” I pointed at the hem of her skirt. “Why are you wearing that silk gown beneath your calico?”

“Those clothes you gave me are too large, so I put them overtop of my own gown. It makes for a better fit. Besides, a bit of color is a good thing, don’t you think?”

“That’s exactly the problem, Berta. You’re not thinking. We do not wear bright colors; we don’t feel the need to be different.” Though I spoke with authority, my conscience gnawed at me. Sometimes I wanted to be different, too, but I dared not tell Berta about my deep longing to visit other places and experience life beyond the boundaries of Amana.

“Well, I do. And I want to wear beautiful things. I look around the room and every woman looks the same. The calico is either black or brown or dark blue with tiny little white designs. Is that little indistinguishable design supposed to be a nod to prettiness? If so, it misses the mark.”

She plopped down on a bench near the shed and tightened her lips into a firm knot. I sat beside her, uncertain how I could win her to my side. I needed to convince her that she would be happier if she would conform to our ways. Still, she hadn’t been reared among our people. She knew what existed beyond the perimeter of our villages, and I didn’t think I could convince her that this life was better. Like my brother Wilhelm, she wanted more than Amana could offer.

“Before you pass judgment, perhaps you should do your best to follow instructions and learn how we live.” When Berta didn’t respond, I leaned closer. “Your parents appear determined to remain in Amana. Wouldn’t it be easier on all of you if you’d at least make an effort to be happy?”

“We were happy in Chicago. At least I thought we were.” Her brows furrowed. “I got in trouble from time to time, but I’m beginning to wonder if there was some other reason they decided to come here. Besides me, I mean.”

“I’m sorry, but I have no idea.”

With a stubborn glint in her eyes, she thrust her arms around her waist. “You wouldn’t tell me if you knew.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you. The truth is, such matters are discussed and decided by the elders and trustee. Private information isn’t shared.”

I couldn’t tell if Berta believed me, but I’d spoken the truth and could do no more to convince her. Right now I needed to get her back into the kitchen before Sister Muhlbach came looking for us. That thought had barely skittered through my mind when the back door slammed and the older woman tromped toward us.

She stopped directly in front of us and planted her fists on her hips. “Did the two of you decide to spend the day out here enjoying the spring weather while the rest of us perform your duties? If you don’t want to help in the kitchen, Berta, perhaps you’d like to work in the garden? I can speak to the Bruderrat.”

I couldn’t predict what Berta would say, but I poked her with my elbow and hoped she’d understand she should refuse the garden work. Instead, she turned her gaze toward the east, where the sun was slowly ascending into a billowy blue sky.

I knew what she was thinking: Outdoors would be better than being cooped up in the kitchen. But she didn’t know the
Gartebaas
.

Berta would never survive under the supervision of Sister Rosina Nusser. Though small in stature, the garden boss was filled with more energy than any woman in Amana. The wiry mother of five worked hard and expected the same from every person who worked for her. Even the hired hands requested new assignments after a day or two of Sister Nusser’s commands.

“Berta is going to do better in the kitchen. She’s going to try very hard, aren’t you, Berta?” Once again I jabbed her in the side.

She rubbed her fingertips along her waistline and glared in my direction. “I’ll give it a try.”

Sister Muhlbach motioned toward the kitchen. “Then go inside and help Sister Dickel wash the dishes, Berta.”

When I jumped to my feet, the older woman shook her head.

“Not you, Johanna. We will speak privately before you return to work.”

My heart hammered against my chest like an anvil striking iron. When Berta had returned indoors, Sister Muhlbach pointed to the bench. “Sit down, Johanna.” She settled beside me, and the stern lines around her mouth softened. “You’ve been burdened with a difficult task, one that will try your patience and mine. There is no doubt this is an impertinent young woman who has little desire to live here or learn our ways.”

“So it would seem.” I didn’t want to disparage Berta, but I couldn’t lie, either.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “For your sake, I will give her a little latitude, but I cannot have her creating chaos in the kitchen. You must do your best to bring her around, and quickly. Do I make myself clear?”

I nodded. “Yes, Sister Muhlbach. Very clear.”

“Gut. Now let’s get back to work.”

She walked by my side until we neared the kitchen door. With a viselike grip, she held my arm. “One more thing, Johanna. Make certain Berta never again wears that bright pink skirt!”

CHAPTER 4

Berta Schumacher

My father folded his arms across his chest and stared over the top of his spectacles. “I’m told you created quite a ruckus in the kitchen this morning.”

There was no reason to deny it. My father had obviously heard all of the details. I couldn’t help but wonder who had told him, though. Johanna? Probably Brother Ilg, I decided. He was an elder as well as Johanna’s father. He’d be eager to tell my parents that I was a misfit in this strange new world. “I didn’t follow the rules. I’ve already been reprimanded.” I glanced at my mother. “Where were you? I didn’t see either of you come to the dining room for breakfast. Did the two of you receive a reprimand for breaking the rules?”

“No, Berta. Rather than break the rules, we gained permission to be absent in advance. Some of my medical equipment arrived on the train last week and had been delivered by wagon from Homestead. I wanted to check over the items and ensure that nothing had broken. We received permission to eat breakfast at the hotel kitchen, since it is close to the office where I’ll be working.”

I was weary from the day at work and thought my brain hadn’t properly registered what my father had said. “Did you say your equipment arrived last week? How is that possible?”

Mother inched closer beside me on the divan and patted my hand. “We’d begun making plans to move here earlier than you probably surmised.”

“How
much
earlier?” I pulled my hand from her grasp.

“We’d been talking for a month or two,” she whispered.

“A month or two?” I jumped to my feet and mentally calculated dates. “That’s before the trouble with John Underwood.” I glanced between them. “You said that was why we were moving here, but now I discover you told me a lie!” With each word, my tone elevated a notch.

“No need to shout, Berta. Sit down and let’s discuss this like sensible folks.”

My father’s placating tone further infuriated me. “Why? Everything has already been decided. I had no choice in this matter. You and Mother made me believe we moved here because of John Underwood, but now I discover that can’t possibly be the case.”

“It
is
part of the reason. The fact that you and John hadn’t yet been involved in that last bit of mischief changes nothing. The two of you had certainly caused us worry by then.” My mother retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket and blotted her eyes.

I stiffened at the sight. She needn’t think her tears would soften my anger. The two of them had plotted and schemed behind my back and made me believe that living in this strict community was due entirely to my outlandish behavior.

“I know I haven’t been the best daughter, but there’s something more to this move than my antics with John Underwood. Something you’ve decided to keep secret.” I didn’t fail to note the quick glance exchanged by my parents. I yanked the apron from around my waist and stomped toward my room.

“We have prayer service in a few minutes. You need to remove that pink gown and gather your shawl,” my father said.

Prayer service!
The thought irritated me like the prickly wool blanket that covered my bed. Unless I could escape this place, I’d be required to attend prayer service every night for the rest of my life. And as if every night wasn’t enough, Johanna had told me there were a total of eleven meetings each week. I’d nearly fainted.
Eleven!
Who ever heard of such a thing! Not only did they meet every night, but they added a meeting on Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday afternoons. And, of course, there was Sunday morning service, too. The idea of all that praying baffled me. Couldn’t they just do it all at once and be done with it?

I gathered my shawl and hiked up the skirt of the pink silk, careful to tuck the waistband tight beneath the calico. Hemming was out of the question. There wasn’t time. Besides, I didn’t know how to hem a skirt. Later I’d get the scissors from Mother’s sewing box and snip off an inch or two. I wasn’t yet ready to discard my vestiges of the outside world. Satisfied the fabric was now hidden from sight, I returned to the parlor. With a sweep of his arm, my father gestured toward the door. The three of us exited the parlor with my mother in the lead, my father at the rear, and me sandwiched between them.

Father had turned to close our door when a young man and a middle-aged woman exited their apartment. The young man grinned at me.

“Guten Abend.”

My father stared at the fellow as if taking his measure. “Good evening.”

Their neighbor extended his hand. “I am Rudolf Stilson, and this is my mother, Hilda Stilson.”

The woman was holding her son’s arm in a possessive grasp. “So, we finally meet the new doctor and his family. I thought Brother Frank would bring you up to meet us when you arrived, but . . .” Her voice trailed off as if she expected my father to respond, but when he said nothing, she continued. “My Rudolf hopes the Grossebruderrat will consider sending him to school to become a doctor or maybe a pharmacist. He is a smart boy.”

“I thought pride was frowned upon in the community,” I said.

“Berta! You forget your manners.” My mother grimaced. “My daughter isn’t herself this evening.”

I wanted to tell them that I hadn’t been myself since we set foot in this town, but I held my tongue. Such a comment would only meet with another reprimand. We followed Rudolf and his mother down the stairs and outside. I was surprised when, before long, Rudolf had worked his way back until he was walking beside me.

“I saw what happened in the Küche this morning,” he said. “It takes time to adjust. You’ll learn.”

“I don’t want to learn. I want to return to Chicago, where I can enjoy myself,” I whispered.

A straw hat topped his thick dark hair, but it was the glint in his chocolate brown eyes that captured my attention. He appeared to be a young man who could learn to take pleasure in life—with a little help. “Did you grow up in Amana?” I kept my voice low, fearful the others would discover we were talking and pull me away from Rudolf ’s side.

“Most of my life. We lived on the outside for about a year, but when my Vater died,
Mutter
and I moved back. She’s content here. It is her home.”

My heart fluttered with excitement. At least I’d connected with someone who knew what living out in the world was like. The fun, the excitement, the adventure. “Don’t you miss the outside life?”

“Not so much. Our life out there wasn’t so gut. We worked on a farm, and the owner expected too much work for too little pay. When Vater was injured and died, we knew this was where we belonged, so we returned.”