Love Finds You in Homestead, Iowa

by Melanie Dobson

  Frank hung up the phone. There was no justice these days in Chicago, even for a criminal like Jacob Hirsch.

  Cassie’s feet dangled over the edge of the bed as she watched Liesel don her black prayer cap in front of the oval glass. “It’s so pretty.”

  Liesel took the cap off her hair, holding it out to the child, and Cassie gently brushed her fingers across the sheer material and the tatted loops around the edge before she put it over her braids. Liesel giggled and tied the lace strings under Cassie’s chin.

  “You look just like an Amana Kind.”

  Cassie hopped off the bed and admired her appearance in the glass.

  With a deep breath, Liesel wrapped her prayer shawl over her shoulders. She’d taken a long, hot bath today in the washroom, and she felt ready to enter the village life again. Part of her was excited to see her friends, but she was nervous as well. Some of the older Amana women were perceptive, irritatingly so. What if they saw something in her eyes—something she was trying to hide?

  Cassie handed Liesel her cap and she retied it, tighter this time so that it covered the tips of her cheeks. If only she could wear her sunbonnet to Nachtgebet, the nightly prayer meeting, so she could hide her eyes…

  Cassie reached over from the edge of the bed and squeezed her hand. “I’ll miss you, Liesel.”

  Liesel bent down and kissed the part in Cassie’s braids. “I will miss you too.”

  Cassie didn’t let go of her hand. “Do you have to leave?”

  “It wouldn’t be proper for me to stay, now that I’m no longer under quarantine.”

  “But when will you come back?”

  “Tomorrow morning. Just after the sun comes up.”

  Cassie smiled. “And then we will play.”

  Liesel grinned back at the girl, patting her on the head. “Play and play and play.”

  Someone cleared his throat behind her, and Liesel whirled around. Jacob stood at the door, a smile on his face. “You look nice.”

  Without thinking, she smoothed her hands over her cap again and then forced her hands back to her side, silently reprimanding herself for caring even a little about how Jacob thought she looked. She muttered something that sounded like “Danke schon” to thank him and shuffled around his tall frame.

  He looked down at her, still smiling. “You’ll be back tomorrow?”

  “Ja.”

  He laughed. “Ve vill miss you.”

  She shook her head at his teasing, but she couldn’t stop her smile. It was good to hear him laugh.

  She rushed down the stairs and out the back door. Even though the evening air was weighted with humidity, she was glad to walk the narrow path. She had missed the fresh air…the soothing sound of sheep braying in the fields…the daily fellowship with the women in her village. The Amana tradition was ingrained in her heart along with the familiar routines and friendships. Without these, she wasn’t sure exactly who she was.

  Except for the occasional illness, she never missed Nachtgebet, but now she had been gone for over a week, caring for a worldly man and his daughter. The Colonies didn’t need a newspaper or even a telegraph to spread news like this. No doubt the women would ask question after question about the worldly visitors, but the questioning was no reason for her to stay away from the meeting. More than anyone, she needed prayer.

  The evening’s service was held in a brick house on the bottom floor, a block down the pathway. Her head bowed, she entered the home in reverence. A dozen other women sat on pale pine benches on the left side of the large room, and the men sat on benches on the right.

  After the last person walked into the room, one of the men led out in song, and the others followed with familiar words.

  Sit and pause a while, my spirit this great miracle behold; See the king of highest merit, on the cross, so bare and cold! Out of heaven God has given His own Son in love untold!

  The song faded and the words washed over her. She was grateful, so grateful, at the great miracle of what God’s Son did for her on the cross.

  As the lyrics lingered in her mind, invigorating her heart, Eduard Krupp stood up and read from Psalm 51. “Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.”

  That was exactly what she needed. A new spirit and a right one before God. She could hold on to to her bitterness at Conrad and her anger at him for taking Sophie away from her, or she could give it up to the One who desired to fill her mind with joy and gladness.

  The others spoke out in prayer around her, and she sat in silence…in gladness for God’s gifts.

  Jacob and the Elders had agreed that she could care for Cassie while she remained in quarantine. God had blessed her life with this little girl and she wanted to care for her. She would help Cassie, and with God’s Spirit alive in her, she would face the days ahead without fear—even the day she would have to say good-bye.

  The meeting ended, and the women shuffled out the left door in silence. The silence didn’t last long, however. One of the younger women nudged her toward the lawn beside the pathway, and a half dozen other unmarried women huddled around them. The words of the hymn and Scripture lingered in Liesel’s mind even as she braced herself for the questions.

  Amalie spoke first, her big blue eyes sparkling in the setting sun. Her frame was larger than most of the young women in their community, and she bubbled like a glass of sparkling wine whenever she spoke.

  “We’ve missed you,” her friend said as she gave her a hug. “The gardens are too quiet without you and Sophie.”

  Liesel reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’ve missed you too.”

  “We kept asking Niklas Keller when you would leave the doctor’s house, but he wouldn’t tell us a thing.”

  “He didn’t know.”

  Amalie leaned closer to her ear. “So…”

  Liesel smiled at her friend. “So, what?”

  Two of the Elders strolled toward them, talking quietly to themselves. A hush spread over the group until the men had disappeared behind the greenhouse.

  “Tell us about him,” Amalie pressed.

  Liesel glanced around at the group of women, who waited in expectation for her description of the man from Chicago. She shrugged. “About who?”

  “About the worldly man.” Karoline nudged her in her ribs. “We heard he was dashing.”

  She stiffened. “Who told you he was dashing?”

  “Rosa Trachsel did,” Karoline said with a giggle. “So…is he as handsome as she says?”

  “I can’t say that I’ve noticed.”

  “You’ve spent a week with him,” Karoline said. “Surely you’ve noticed.”

  The women around her laughed, but Liesel didn’t think it was funny. It seemed disloyal to be critiquing Jacob’s appearance like he was a stranger in their village. He wasn’t a stranger to her, and it didn’t matter in the least if he were handsome or not. Jacob Hirsch had a kind heart and an ingrained strength that she couldn’t help but admire.

  His vivid eyes were a pale green—and his warm smile melted her—but she wouldn’t trivialize his strength and kindness by talking about his appearance. Especially when she’d spent the past week trying to save Cassie’s life.

  Amalie tugged on her hand. “Black hair or brown?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters.”

  Irritation sparked in her. “This man’s daughter has been on the brink of death, and you ask me about the color of his hair?”

  The laughter stopped, but the questions didn’t.

  “Is he married?” Karoline asked.

  She sighed. “I don’t think so.”

  Amalie stared at her for a moment, like she was the crazy one. “You didn’t ask if he was married?”

  “I told you…”

  Amalie waved her off. “You would think the question of his wife would slip somewhere into the conversation.”

  A small voice piped up from the back of the women. “How is his daughter now?”


  Liesel pushed herself up on her toes and saw Elise Bach peeking around one of the taller women. She looked like an angel of mercy.

  “Bless you, Elise.” She smiled. “Cassie is doing much better.”

  “We’ve all been worried about his daughter,” Amalie said. “We’ve prayed for her every night.”

  Karoline’s head bobbed up and down, agreeing with vigor. “But now that the daughter is well…”

  “Now you are interested in her father.”

  “We’re only curious,” Karoline said. “It’s not often that a handsome stranger gets thrown into our midst.”

  Amalie grinned again. “And one of our friends gets to spend an entire week with him.”

  “I didn’t say he was handsome!”

  Even if he was, he was leaving Sunday morning to live on the dredge boat. It wasn’t likely she or any of these women would see much of him again. She and Jacob would go back to being strangers, and once Cassie went to stay with one of the Tantes, she would go back to working in the gardens. Life as usual.

  For once, though, “life as usual” didn’t seem as appealing as it normally did. Jacob and his daughter had arrived in her world uninvited, yet she didn’t want either of them to leave.

  Amalie tugged her arm. “Liesel?”

  She glanced over at the kitchen house beside them. Her bedroom was upstairs in the corner, the window dark. She hugged Amalie’s neck and then hugged the other women. “I must be getting up to my room.”

  Karoline sighed. “You won’t tell us a thing, will you?”

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  Whosoever sincerely seeks the treasure within their heart must seek with diligence, abandoning all else. You must search deeply until you reach the unfathomable, wherein you shall be absorbed.

  Johann Friedrich Rock, 1717

  Chapter Fifteen

  Smoke billowed out of the stack on the grosse boat as the giant shovel lifted another layer of silt out of the Mill Race and deposited it on the bank. The cumbersome boat snorted like a wild horse and its chains clinked as the crew moved the pulleys up and down. Schoolchildren gathered on the levee, watching the final hour of dredging for the day, and Michael—the boat’s captain—blew the whistle for their audience. The children laughed and called back to the boat, “Ship ahoy!”

  About thirty feet from the bow of the boat, Jacob helped an elderly carpenter dismantle a bridge. They’d worked for four hours now, removing each plank and piling them on the bank so that the boat could move down the canal in the morning.

  The sun emerged from the cloudy sky, toasting Jacob’s neck and arms. Michael had given him Conrad’s bathing costume—a sleeveless wool jersey and knee-length trousers—so he could work in the canal, but until today they hadn’t needed him in the water. Instead he’d sweltered in the boat’s dungeon, feeding wood into the boiler to power the dipper.

  All the men on the boat were much younger than he except for the captain. Michael was at least forty and had a wife and son in Main Amana. A teenaged boy named David usually operated the boiler, but with Jacob’s arrival, the captain had started teaching David how to drive beams into the banks of the canal to anchor the boat.

  Jacob unscrewed a plank from its joist and pocketed the screw, grateful to be outside in the sunshine, although he wasn’t enjoying the company. The carpenter worked the other end of the bridge in silence, speaking only when he needed something—and he rarely needed anything from Jacob.

  Without looking over, the carpenter barked at him. “Kann ich bitte meinen Schraubenzieher haben.”

  The words tumbled in Jacob’s mind. Kann ich bitte… Can I please…

  The man wanted something, but Jacob didn’t know what. He reached for the tool satchel. “Ich verstehen nicht,” he replied with a shake of his head. “I don’t understand.”

  The man repeated the words, much slower this time, and Jacob realized he was asking for the screwdriver. He handed the man the tool and then sat back on the edge of the plank, stretching his toes down to the water.

  A cloud momentarily erased the glare of the sun and cast a dull light over the slow-moving water and the fields that framed the Mill Race. Downstream from their boat was a bell tower and a cluster of stone and brick homes—the village of Main Amana.

  They were only a quarter mile west of Amana but a good three miles from Homestead. Leaving Cassie on Sunday was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. Liesel was right—working the dredge was hard work, but it was good, manual labor, and he enjoyed working with his hands. He was grateful for the opportunity to provide for Cassie, but still he missed her.

  He was confident that Liesel would care well for her, but a child needed her parents, and Cassie only had one of those left. Besides, he missed her, plain and simple. He could keep telling himself that Cassie needed him, but the truth was, he needed his daughter.

  Splash! The water rippled to his left, and Jacob glanced over at the panicked face of the carpenter. The man was pointing toward the water. “Schraubenzieher!”

  Jacob drew in a deep breath and dove into the murky water. The Mill Race was only eight feet deep, but the silt would swallow the tool in seconds. His arms outstretched, he sifted the water around him, hoping the water had slowed the screwdriver’s descent.

  His hands touched the slimy bottom, and he began to dig, sifting through the mud and leaves under his fingers. Thirty seconds passed, and his lungs started to burn. In fifteen seconds, he needed to ascend. Twenty, tops.

  But he wouldn’t give up. Not yet. Anyone could run the boiler room in the boat’s belly, but this was his chance to prove they needed him as a swimmer…and that he was worth paying seven dollars a week.

  Seconds ticked by as he scrounged through the muck. His head throbbed, and his lungs cried out for air.

  It’s only a screwdriver. The blacksmith can make another one.

  Yet it was about much more than the screwdriver. It was about convincing the carpenter and Michael and the Elders…and Liesel…that he could do this job.

  His fingers brushed over the long handle of the tool, and he grasped it. With a strong scissor kick, he shot toward the surface. Light filtered through the dirty water, and he burst through the surface gasping for air.

  He heaved in long breaths, and in the midst of his breathing he heard cheers. The schoolchildren were shouting, celebrating his return. It was a small feat, but he held the screwdriver above his head, and they rejoiced with him.

  The whistle on the boat blew one last time, and Michael shouted. “Quitting time!”

  Jacob lifted himself up onto the bank and handed the screwdriver to the carpenter.

  The man nodded, pushing his spectacles up his nose. “Vielen Dank.”

  After the carpenter thanked him, Jacob fell backward into the water, swimming under the dipper before he climbed up a small ladder and into the boat.

  “I need my money today!” the Honorable Charlie Caldwell shouted into the phone. He followed his demand with a tirade of words not fit for Chicago’s politer society.

  Frank’s head throbbed and his ear ached from Caldwell’s ranting. Even when he pulled the phone away from his ear, the man’s words echoed around him. Frank wiped a band of sweat from his forehead and fanned himself with an envelope. The office was sweltering this morning, and as Caldwell verbally lashed him and his bank, memories of another hot day stole back, uninvited—memories of the Great Fire that swept through Chicago twenty years ago.

  As flames had ravaged the businesses and homes around him, he’d locked the bank’s cash reserves in the vault and fled down the street. The fire had swallowed up his records, but the vault didn’t burn. Their business recovered after the Great Fire, and people trusted him to protect their money and valuables at any cost, even if it meant risking his life to lock away their money.

  Caldwell continued yelling into the phone, but Frank barely heard his words. They’d lost so much in the fire, but he hadn’t lost their cache. Now a fire of sorts was star
ting to burn again. Not by those terrible flames, but because he’d trusted his customers’ money to someone who didn’t value his customers as much as he did. Frank had made it through the first fire without losing their reserves but until he found Jacob, there was nothing he could do to recover the money.

  Silence pervaded the room, and Frank realized that Caldwell had stopped shouting. “I can give you a thousand this afternoon,” Frank said.

  “I need two thousand.”

  “I’m working on it, Charlie.” He wiped another layer of sweat off his forehead. “Most of your savings is invested in businesses and houses around the community.”

  “That’s not my problem, Frank. I’ve got debts to pay and some unsavory people knocking on my door.”

  “A thousand today, and I’ll have the rest of the money to you within the week.”

  Caldwell was silent for a moment, contemplating his proposal.

  The thousand was more than half of what Frank had in the vault; if anyone else came asking for money, he’d be sunk. His wife wouldn’t be happy, but he could sell off some of their personal assets. His diamond ring. Some of her jewelry. It would be enough to mollify Caldwell and keep the business afloat.

  “I need the other thousand by next week.”

  “I’ll phone you the moment I receive it,” Frank said before he dropped the earpiece onto the cradle. All he needed to do was bandage the problem for now…stop the hemorrhaging long enough to find Jacob and the cash. The missing money would give him enough surplus to ride on until the economy started growing again.

  But what if he couldn’t find Jacob?

  He shook his head. The consequences over not locating the money were too much to comprehend right now. Not only would it mean the loss of his business, it would also be the loss of his reputation. Instead of rising above the corruption, Chicago’s Second National Building and Loan would be another bruise on their battered city.

  Someone knocked on his door, and he closed the ledger. “Come in!”

  The door creaked open, and Orwin peeked around the door. The distress on his nephew’s face startled Frank. “What is it?”