More Than Words (9 page)

I shook my head. “No, of course not. You’re welcome to wait here. There’s a bench back by the shoes if you’d care to sit down.”

He leaned his elbows on the counter and rested his chin in one palm. “I’d rather just stand here and stare at your beautiful face.”

I looked away, surprised by his boldness. “We do not speak in such a manner, Mr. Finley.”

He chuckled. “You see? I knew you’d be willing to teach me. You just needed a place to begin. Why don’t you explain why it’s improper to tell a person she possesses pleasant features? One glance in a looking glass is enough to affirm such a statement.”

“It could cause a person to become vain, and it is the inner person that is important, Mr. Finley. Beautiful features are nothing when compared to fine character, wouldn’t you agree?” He didn’t immediately respond, so I continued to explain. “We have no choice about our physical appearance, but we do choose how we will treat others and whether we will live in a godly manner.”

For a long moment, he pursed his lips together and appeared to be in deep thought. “But you must agree that a lovely physical appearance isn’t a bad thing.”

“No, it isn’t bad. But it is much less important than inner beauty.”

His loud guffaw startled me.

“You find my answer funny?”

He covered his mouth with his palm but continued to laugh. “No offense intended.” The muffled words filtered through his fingers. He finally ceased laughing and dropped his hand. “I was picturing the process of looking down someone’s throat to view their inner beauty.” When I didn’t join in his laughter, he chided me. “Come now, surely you can see how humorous that would be.”

“I suppose there is a bit of humor to be found in what you’ve said.” In truth, I wondered why any person in his right mind would have such a curious thought. Had my grandmother made the strange remark, I wouldn’t have been surprised. She didn’t have full control of her mind. But Mr. Finley was an intelligent businessman who didn’t appear to have any mental problems. At least none that I’d previously observed. Maybe I just didn’t understand the humor of outsiders.

“Tell me, Miss Kohler, what did you think of the magazines I left with you? Did you find any of the articles or poems of interest?”

“Yes. All of them.” I blurted out the admission without thinking.

A slow smile curved his lips. “So you didn’t destroy them. I’m pleased to know you’re interested in learning and expanding your horizons.”

“I read them only because I enjoy writing and wanted to see how I could improve my skills.” My excuse was weak, but it was the only defense I could offer. Besides, it held a modicum of truth. I’d studied the poems and stories at length. And despite Mina’s assessment, I believed my writings had improved over the past weeks.

He lifted his case to the counter and opened the latches. “My instincts told me you were a young woman with a penchant for learning, so I brought along some books you might enjoy.” He pushed the case toward me so I could view the bounty inside. “You may keep them as long as you’d like.”

A deep sense of longing washed over me. I’d never before experienced such a strong desire to possess anything in my life. I lifted one of the books from the case and read the title.
Anna Karenina
. My excitement mounted as I flipped through the pages. I picked up the next one and smiled.
The Cambridge Book of Poetry and Song
. “They look like books I would very much enjoy.”

He nodded and picked up another. “This is
Lorna Doone
and there’s
Tennyson’s Poetical Works.
I chose books from my library that I thought you would enjoy. Once you’ve read those, I’d be happy to share others with you.”

To accept the books would be considered unsuitable. I did, after all, have better things to do with my time. Yet to learn was a good thing. I reasoned that reading these books would expand my mind and teach me new writing skills. And the books weren’t a gift. I would return them to Mr. Finley once I’d read them. Surely it couldn’t be improper to borrow some books. My insides quivered, and I glanced toward the front door. If I was convinced borrowing the books wasn’t unacceptable, why was I frightened someone would see me?

I forced the thought aside. “I would be pleased to read these books, Mr. Finley, and I will see to their gut care.”

He lifted the books from his case and stacked them on the counter. “And I won’t mention that they’re in your possession, Miss Kohler.”

Apprehension nudged my conscience. The two of us now shared a secret. One that could get me in trouble.

“If you’d like to put the books in a place of safekeeping, I’ll watch after the store for you.”

He pushed the books several inches closer. Close enough that I cast aside my misgivings and scooped the stack of books into my arms before I changed my mind. Once inside the parlor, I slowed my pace and tiptoed across the striped carpet. Oma was asleep in her rocker. If she should awaken, I could use her mental condition to explain away any comments she might make to others, but I hoped that wouldn’t be necessary. Her soft snores continued while I entered my room and carefully tucked the books beneath several quilts in the trunk at the foot of my bed. A giant sigh escaped my lips when I returned to the parlor. Only then did I realize I’d been holding my breath.

After assuring myself Oma remained sound asleep, I returned to the store. Mr. Finley was standing exactly where I’d left him. But it was immediately obvious he’d not been in that spot the entire time, for he was now reading my journal. He glanced up but made no effort to hide what he’d been doing. “You’re in luck. No customers,” he said, tapping the pages he’d been reading. “You have talent, Miss Kohler. I’m impressed.”

I grabbed the journal from his hands and slapped it shut. My anger seethed like a boiling teakettle. “Do you frequently help yourself to things that do not belong to you, Mr. Finley?”

“When I think there’s good reason.”

His calm demeanor annoyed me even more. “And what good reason do you have for sneaking behind the work counter to remove and read a personal journal that has not been offered to you?”

“I thought you’d be an excellent poet, but your prose is every bit as good. Especially when you feel great passion about an issue.” He tipped his head to one side, and his lips curved in an easy grin.

In that very instant I was certain he’d read some of the entries I’d made over the past few weeks. My cheeks burned hot, and I wanted to run from the room, yet his words of praise held me in place. I detested my desire to hear more of what he thought about my writing, but I couldn’t deny the truth: I cared what Mr. Finley thought about my talent.

He took a step closer. “I’d be honored if you’d permit me the opportunity to read all of your writings, Miss Kohler. Though I’m no authority on poetry, I am convinced you possess great talent.”

Great talent
. The words caused a tidal wave of excitement to wash over me. He’d read portions of my journal without asking permission, and I still maintained a modicum of anger for his bold conduct, yet his words of praise pleased me, and I was elated to hear him say I possessed a gift for writing.

I shook my head. “I couldn’t ever—”

“Don’t speak in haste. At least consider my offer. You have time to decide before I depart.”

His final words surprised me. “But I thought you came here with the thought of making your home in Iowa.”

“Yes, yes, of course. But if I make that decision, I’ll need to return to Chicago to advise my employer. And to gather the rest of my belongings.”

“Of course. How silly of me. I wasn’t thinking.” After making such a ridiculous statement, I longed for some place to hide, but Mr. Finley didn’t permit me time to linger over my inane comment.

“Is it true that all of my worldly possessions must be turned over to the society if I decide to move here?”

“If the elders agree to accept you and you make your vow to become a member, your personal belongings remain yours, but you would agree to give your money and any holdings to the society.” He appeared somewhat put off by my explanation. “But all of your needs would be met, and you would want for nothing. Here we are furnished a place to live, gut food, money enough to make monthly purchases here at the store. It is a gut life, Mr. Finley.”

“And if I’m here for a time and decide I don’t like living here?”

“You could leave whenever you want, and you would be reimbursed for what you contributed when you joined. We are not a harsh and unrelenting group. We do not want anyone to remain who is not happy among us, Mr. Finley.”

He closed the small hasps on his case and set it on the floor. “Does that include you, Miss Kohler? Can you leave whenever you want?”

“Ja. I can leave. But why would I want to? And where would I go? This is my home, the only life I’ve ever known. This is where my family is.”

“You have no desire to see what’s beyond this village? To learn what’s out there and to write about what you see?”

His words caused me to smile. “I have never found a lack of things to write about, Mr. Finley. I sometimes wonder about the outside world, but enough visitors come through Homestead to give me an understanding of what lies beyond our colonies. I am not eager to go and visit, though I do enjoy seeing pictures and reading about other places.”

Mr. Finley was leaning across the counter, and we were engaged in conversation when I glanced toward the front of the store and saw Conrad standing just inside the door. I didn’t know how long he’d been standing there watching us, but from the look on his face, I determined it had been long enough to make him unhappy.

“Conrad! Mr. Finley has returned. Come and join us.” I waved him forward and did my best to appear jovial and inviting. He ambled across the room. I didn’t fail to notice his clenched fists and the tight lines around his lips. “We were visiting while Mr. Finley waits to speak with Vater.”

“Ja, I saw from the door what a nice visit you were having.”

My stomach lurched, and I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You remember Mr. Finley?”

“I do not think I could ever forget him.”

Mr. Finley extended his hand. “Glad to hear I made such a strong impression on you, Mister … uh, Mister … You know, I don’t believe I recall your last name.”

“Wetzler. Conrad Wetzler. I am the barber here in Homestead. You were in my shop with Gretchen and her grandmother.”

Mr. Finley bobbed his head. “Indeed, I recall the circumstances of our meeting. It was you, I mean your name, that I didn’t recollect.”

Conrad tightened his jaw. “There is a saying that people remember what is important to them. I am sure you did not forget Gretchen’s name.”

“I’ve not heard that saying, Mr. Wetzler, but I believe I concur. And you’re right. I didn’t forget Miss Kohler’s name or anything else about her.” Mr. Finley’s lips twitched. “I find Miss Kohler quite unforgettable.”

Conrad placed one fist on the counter, and for a moment I thought he was going to punch Mr. Finley in the nose. “Since you say you wish to learn about becoming a member of our society, Mr. Finley, let me explain that we do not make such comments about the women who live here. It is not proper. In fact, most would be insulted by your bold comment.”

Blood pulsed in my temples like a banging hammer. Not only had Conrad corrected Mr. Finley, but he had rebuked me for my behavior, as well. I didn’t know whether to direct my anger at Conrad or Mr. Finley. At the moment I longed to rid myself of both of them. But it appeared what I wanted wasn’t going to happen.

CHAPTER 8

Just when I thought Mr. Finley and Conrad were going to square off in a bout of fisticuffs, Brother Otto banged open the front door and rushed into the store as though he’d arrived regarding a matter of life and death. The schoolteacher’s red face was dotted with perspiration, and he tugged his handkerchief from his pocket. Gasping for breath, he daubed his face and leaned against the counter.

I motioned to Conrad. “Please bring a chair before Brother Otto collapses.” The schoolteacher didn’t argue but fell to the chair before it was in place and nearly ended up on the floor. “Take a minute to regain your strength while I fetch a cup of water for you.”

Brother Otto bobbed his head. His heavy breathing continued while I dipped from the pail of drinking water and poured the liquid into a tin cup. He gulped down the contents. “Thank you.” He panted for several breaths before he continued. “I don’t have much time, but I’d like to speak to you.” He lowered his spectacles on his nose and looked at the two men. “Alone would be gut.”

Conrad and Mr. Finley quickly disappeared. I picked up my chair and moved to the other side of the counter so I could sit down and talk to the schoolteacher eye to eye. And a little more time would likely help both of us. At least, I knew it would help me. I couldn’t imagine what Stefan had done to cause this visit, but after spending a half hour in the company of Conrad and Mr. Finley, I doubted the schoolteacher’s report could be any more disconcerting.

I situated my chair near Brother Otto and folded my hands in my lap. “Now then, Brother Otto, what brings you to the store in the middle of your day?”