Love Finds You in Homestead, Iowa

by Melanie Dobson

  “Trust? He can take your life too.” Orwin tried to snap his fingers. “Just like that.”

  “Yes, I suppose He can, and when it’s time for me to go home, I’m ready.”

  “You’re a fool, Jacob.”

  “I don’t think so.” He stood up. “A fool would be someone who steals money and refuses to admit it. And a fool would leave this world without asking God to forgive him of his sins.”

  “Get out!” Orwin shouted. “You’re not welcome here.”

  He stepped toward the door. “Jesus can rescue your soul, Orwin. It’s not too late to make it right.”

  Silence followed him out into the hallway, followed by a curse. Mrs. Tucker was waiting for him outside the door.

  “Uncle Frank is missing money?” the woman asked.

  “At least twenty thousand dollars.”

  “God is a merciful God,” she said.

  “That He is.”

  “He can forgive my husband.”

  He nodded. “If he asks…”

  Mrs. Tucker locked the door behind him, and he jogged down the steps. Perhaps Adam Voepel would let Jacob join him in prayer.

  While I have the power to do all things, speaks the Lord, I want your will, your faith, your love and your obedience.

  Barbara Heinemann Landmann, 1880

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Liesel carried the kerosene lantern down from the guest room, into the sitting room on the first floor. In the corner, her father was hunched over a writing desk, and she stopped at the doorway, watching the man who’d cared for her since she was born. He loved her like Jacob loved his little girl.

  This was the house where she’d grown up, in the small bedroom beside her father’s room. Three other families lived on the first and second floors of the large house, the residents in the home changing over the years as members of their Society married while others had gone on to meet their Lord.

  Except for the cry of a baby above them, the house was quiet tonight. As she tucked Cassie into bed, Liesel began telling her a grand story about a princess who wasn’t afraid of the rain, but the child didn’t stay awake long enough to hear how the princess rescued Robert and his red umbrella from the sky.

  Her father lifted his head. Behind his spectacles, his tired eyes smiled at her. “Come, dear,” he said in German, patting the wooden chair beside him. “Sit and keep your poor father company.”

  She crossed the room and kissed the bald spot on his head. “My father has never been poor.”

  He took her hand. “You’re right, Liesel. God has blessed me in abundance.”

  “It’s time for bed, Vater.”

  He spread his hand across the pile of papers. “Not yet for me.”

  She glanced over at the papers and books on his desk. “What are you doing?”

  “Willhelm asked me to balance the accounts for the village.”

  “But, Vater…,” she began to protest.

  He held up his hand. “’Tis only temporary.”

  “You must sleep, as well.”

  He shook his head. “It’s my duty to serve the community.”

  She set the lantern on the table as he resumed his notations in the books.

  Her father already provided all the town’s carpentry needs as well as leading church services and prayer meetings at least twice a week. The Council of Elders took turns handling the outside accounts, but it was too much for her father to carry this load as well. He was more worn than she’d ever seen him before, and as he recorded the transactions, he moved like someone had tied shackles around his wrists and ankles.

  Setting his pen on the desk, he stopped to rub his temples.

  She pushed her chair closer. “What is wrong?”

  “It is nothing.”

  “Your head aches?”

  He picked up the pen again. “There’s no reason for you to worry, Liesel.”

  “You are doing too much, Vater. It is wearing you down.”

  “Emil is helping me more at the shop.”

  “That is good.”

  “If only I were better with numbers…”

  She slid the ledger off the table and spun it around. “Why don’t you read me the receipts and I’ll record them?”

  “You don’t have to…”

  “Let me serve as well.”

  Picking up the receipts, he began to read the amounts on each form, and for the next hour they worked side by side, father and daughter. He read the expenses for items like coffee and shoes purchased outside the Amanas, property taxes and new equipment for the mill, as well as the income for the sales of woolen goods to suppliers in Des Moines and Iowa City. She recorded the expenses and income, and together they added and subtracted to total up how much the Amana Colonies had in reserve.

  She’d never thought much of how complicated it was to keep track of what they’d earned and what they were spending. Except the Council of Elders who governed the entire Society, no one in the Amanas worried about money nor even thought much about it.

  Her father’s eyelids drooped, and she nudged his shoulder. Never before had she been so grateful that the Elders shouldered this load for their community.

  After her father read the last receipt, she shut the ledger and her father set his spectacles on top. “I will miss you when you are married.”

  She couldn’t stop the shiver that ran up her spine. What would he say when she told him she was ending her engagement to Emil?

  “But you will be right down the street, of course,” he said. “You will visit me often, ja?”

  “Vater…”

  He stopped her. “Emil will make a fine husband for you. He will never leave you, nor will he take you away from here.”

  “I’m sure he will make a fine husband…” She hesitated. “Just not for me.”

  The baby cried out again overhead, but her father didn’t speak. Instead, his lower lip rumbled, like the dam of a river about to crack. She braced herself for an explosion.

  When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. Too quiet. “I’ve heard rumors about you and the worldly man.”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “Several have said you’ve become too friendly with him.”

  “They shouldn’t be gossiping.”

  “Sometimes there is a thread of truth in gossip.”

  Her hands twisted in her lap. “We spent a week together at the doctor’s house, Vater. We should be friends.”

  “You shouldn’t have stayed at the doctor’s house.”

  “I had no choice.” A protest bobbled on his lips, but she spoke again before he did. “You would like Jacob if you met him.”

  A grunt escaped from his lips. “I have met him, and I can’t say I liked him much.”

  She tapped her foot on the floor. “When did you meet him?”

  “He helped me take apart the bridge on the Mill Race.” Her father paused. “He’s a terrible carpenter.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. The Elders probably said the same thing when they discussed her cooking skills.

  “He may be bad at carpentry, but he has a good heart.”

  Her father sighed. “Your heart is what I worry about, Liesel. This man is being accused of embezzlement.”

  “The accusations are false.”

  Her father stood up and stepped toward the window that looked out onto the dark street. “It is not my position to question his goodness or even the state of his soul. What I question is your relationship with a worldly man.”

  “How can he be worldly if he worships the same God as we do?”

  “He may not come back, Liesel.” Her father turned, facing her again. “And if he does, he won’t stay.”

  “You don’t know that….”

  “The Elders met yesterday.” He hesitated. “If Jacob returns to the Amanas, they will ask him to leave.”

  “But Niklas—he promised him work for the summer.”

  “The Elders will compensate him for what they promised.”<
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  The flames seemed to spin inside the lantern’s glass, and she felt as if she were falling. “You’re going to bribe him to leave?”

  “Not bribery, my child. We’re helping him…and we’re helping you.”

  “It doesn’t help either of us for him to leave.”

  “It is our duty to protect you.”

  “Even if you do this…” Her voice broke. “Even then, I cannot marry Emil.”

  “You don’t know that for certain. Not now.”

  “I do know.”

  He moved toward her and picked up her hands, pleading with her. “All I ask is that you wait to tell Emil. There is no need to rush.”

  Her mind rushed back to what Jacob had told her, about Emil on the canoe with another woman. Could Jacob have lied to her about Emil? Maybe he’d been lying about many things. Maybe she really didn’t know him.

  Shaking her head, she cleared her thoughts. Jacob had done nothing to make her doubt him. He would clear his name in Chicago and come back to the Amanas and then—then her father and the others would ask him to leave.

  Even if Jacob was lying about the canoe, the truth was still the same. She no longer wanted to marry Emil, and if the canoe story was true, apparently Emil didn’t want to marry her either.

  “I have to tell Emil,” she insisted.

  He put her hand on his heart. “Out of respect for your poor father, please wait a few weeks before you do this.”

  “You are not poor….”

  “I’m not asking you to marry him, Liesel. I only ask that you delay breaking your engagement.”

  “Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.”

  She dropped her father’s hand. “I will wait for two weeks before I talk to Emil, but it’s not fair to him nor to me to wait any longer.”

  The next morning Liesel’s father insisted they stay for breakfast before Otto and his horses carried them back to Homestead. And not only did he want them to stay for breakfast, he insisted they walk two blocks south in the rain to eat buckwheat cakes at Schmidt’s Kitchen instead of eating in their normal dining hall.

  Liesel knew exactly what her father was doing, but she didn’t protest. She couldn’t help but wonder how Emil would react when he saw her.

  Cassie clung to her hand as she trudged along beside her, still groggy from the early morning bell.

  Liesel hadn’t slept much last night, nor could she stop thinking about Jacob. For most of her years, life had been filled with wonder. She’d marveled in the strength of her friendships and the beauty of God’s creation. Every day her schedule was the same, yet within the routine she delighted in the abundance around her.

  Some days, however, she longed for fresh joy to well inside her along with a new hope for the future. Ever since Jacob and Cassie arrived in Homestead, predictability had vanished from her life. Even the hours she spent in the garden were filled with anticipation. Purpose. Joy. She loved her hours with Cassie. Loved wondering what it would be like when she saw Jacob again. And she loved feeling his firm fingers intertwined with hers.

  Perhaps her father was right. Perhaps she had become too friendly with Jacob Hirsch. She’d allowed herself to care too deeply, and when the Elders asked him to leave, the pain would sting for weeks and months to come. Even so, she wouldn’t trade her days spent with Jacob and Cassie. Not for anything.

  Her father opened the door to the Schmidt house, and she and Cassie stepped into the hot kitchen. Grease sizzled on the stove top as the Küchebaas barked out orders for her crew. The aromas of bacon and maple syrup urging them forward, Cassie tugged on her hand to hurry.

  Liesel’s stomach grumbled, but she hesitated at the arched entrance into the dining hall. All eyes would be on them when they walked into the room, and she had to be strong.

  She tried to bow her head, to walk quietly to her table, but she couldn’t help skimming the heads of the men and women waiting for their food. Her gaze stopped on the blond-haired man at the left table. The clamoring and clattering from the kitchen behind her seemed to stop, and all she heard was quiet.

  In the briefest of moments, she searched Emil’s eyes…and what she saw in them confirmed what she already knew. He wasn’t the least bit excited to see her. Instead, he looked almost scared. He broke away his gaze, focusing on the table, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Why didn’t he have the courage to tell her that he cared for someone else?

  “Liesel!” Someone squealed beside her, and she turned to see her friend Margrit balancing a huge platter of buckwheat cakes in each arm. Margrit set both platters on a table and embraced her with a hug.

  When Liesel stepped back, though, she saw doubt drift across her friend’s face. Did Margrit question her relationship with Jacob too? Margrit knew she wouldn’t run away with a worldly man…nor would she do anything to compromise her faith or her purity.

  “Are you all right?” Liesel asked.

  Margrit nodded back toward the kitchen. “I must go.”

  Liesel stepped back. “Of course.”

  Margrit bustled back to her work in the kitchen, and Liesel and Cassie slid into the remaining two seats at one of the women’s tables. She ate two slices of bacon and a bowl of milky oatmeal, but she couldn’t eat the bread Emil and his father had baked that morning.

  As she spooned syrup over a helping of the hotcakes, she glanced again at Emil. He didn’t look her way.

  Oddly enough, she wasn’t angry at his indifference. Irritated, perhaps, and even a bit curious, but seeing him confirmed what she already knew. His heart belonged to another…and so did hers.

  Continue the battle, withstand all suffering and trial, survive until the end; then you will receive the crown of honor.

  Johann Friedrich Rock, 1741

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jacob turned the page of the ledger, his eyes weary as he compared the numbers on the doctored ledger alongside the original book. Whoever mastered this plot had been frighteningly patient and detailed with their work. The forged initials resembled perfectly his and Bradford’s and Orwin’s initials. No one would suspect that the men hadn’t withdrawn the money. Perhaps, from now on, Frank should have the customers sign when they took money from the bank, instead of relying on the clerks.

  Hours passed at an agonizing pace as he searched the books for some sort of answer. He was anxious to find a solution to this debacle, and he was even more anxious to get back home.

  The telephone rang in Frank’s office, but the man’s door was shut, so Jacob couldn’t hear what he was saying. Perhaps another customer was attempting to withdraw money from the empty vault.

  For the past three days, he and Adam had prayed every morning and evening against the enemy’s deception, and as Jacob pored over the ledgers at the bank, he could hear Adam whispering prayers at the desk behind him. Frank had yet to follow through on his threat to call Marshall Vicker at the newspaper, and as far as Jacob knew, he hadn’t called the police either.

  Jacob was fairly certain he knew who took the money, but without some hard evidence, he couldn’t prove Orwin’s guilt. Perhaps that was why Frank didn’t call the precinct. Perhaps he suspected that Orwin took the money as well.

  The door to Frank’s office opened and his former boss stepped into the room, but he stopped to steady himself on the edge of a desk. Before Frank spoke, Jacob knew what had happened.

  “That was Orwin’s wife,” Frank said, his voice sounding far away. “Orwin passed on this morning.”

  Poor Mrs. Tucker and their children. The months ahead would be tough for them. “Are his wife and children still well?”

  Frank clung to the edge of the desk. “She and the children haven’t shown any symptoms yet, but the department of public health is keeping them under quarantine for another week.”

  Jacob stared back down at the numbers. Without Orwin’s confession, he would never be able to prove his own innocence. Even if Frank didn’t have e
nough evidence to convict him, Liesel and his Amana friends would doubt him. He wanted Liesel to know she could trust him. Always.

  He closed the ledger. “What do we do now?”

  Frank cleared his throat. “Orwin’s wife asked one favor.”

  “What is that?”

  “She wants to speak with you.”

  “Me? She wasn’t too pleased the last time I was there.”

  “I don’t know why, but she said it was urgent.”

  It was too rainy to work in the gardens this morning and too wet to be wandering around outside as gallons upon gallons poured over their village. If God had cursed the Egyptians with a plague of rain instead of frogs or locusts, Liesel was certain it would have been just like this. Homestead’s streets swam with mud, and the walkways had turned into streams weaving between the buildings.

  Liesel no longer tried to keep her dress clean, nor did she scold Cassie for letting her hem drag in the puddles. There was no washing off the mud until Monday’s laundry day and no hope of staying dry either.

  Fortunately she and Cassie didn’t need to leave their house to eat—but even more than food, they needed to pray, so once a day they ventured outside for Nachtgebet. She and Cassie had spent hours this week in the sitting room, playing with Cassie’s toys, reading from her Bible, and making puppets and dolls out of paper.

  Two other families and an elderly woman fondly named Tante Salome joined them in the sitting room this afternoon. Greta’s daughter, Magdalena, had given Cassie one of her dolls when they were quarantined at Dr. Trachsel’s, and now Magdalena shared her dollhouse as well. The two girls giggled as they played, and Liesel preferred their laughter to the pounding rain.

  In her lap were two letters delivered by the morning train. One was addressed in Sophie’s familiar writing. The other handwriting wasn’t as familiar, but her heart leaped when she saw the name on the return. Jacob had written a letter, just for her, but she couldn’t bring herself to open it quite yet. She was frightened that his news might not be good.