“Oh no, not about the money. I told him the psychic didn’t know what she was talking about. He would never die.” She blew her nose again. “But I was wrong.”
A psychic could predict Orwin’s death but could do nothing to offer him life.
“It doesn’t excuse what he did.” She sniffed. “But it helps me to understand.”
“A man will do about anything for his family,” he said, and she responded with a small smile.
“Orwin kept the key around his neck, but I never knew what it was for. Before he died, he gave me the key and told me to look in our linen trunk for a box.” She wiped the tears off her face. “He said the money was supposed to take care of us.”
Time seemed to stop as Jacob slid the key into the lock and slowly turned it. He knew what was inside, yet he couldn’t help but gasp when he saw the stacks of U.S. notes in denominations of twenty, fifty, and a hundred. He lifted one of the stacks from the pile and fanned it. There were thousands of dollars’ worth of notes in here. Perhaps twenty thousand.
At the bottom of the money were two ledgers, and he lifted them out and flipped through one of them until he found Marshall Vicker’s record. According to this ledger, Marshall Vicker hadn’t taken a cent out of his account.
He looked back up at the woman. “This could have taken care of you for the rest of your life.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t belong to me.”
“Did Orwin set any other money aside for you?”
“A little at the bank.”
He sat back in his chair, the metal box heavy in his lap. He couldn’t fault Orwin for wanting to provide for his family after he was gone, but it didn’t make it right to steal from men like Stanley Roberts who’d saved for hard times. Or even men like Marshall Vicker who wanted a new boat.
“Can you take it back to the bank?” she asked.
He nodded as he stood up. “What will you do now?”
“We’ll be going back to Pennsylvania to stay with my brother.”
He was relieved that she had someplace to go. “Do you have enough money to get to Pennsylvania?”
Her fingers drummed on her lap. “My brother will send me extra if I need it.”
He opened the ledger in his hand and found the record for Orwin Tucker; his former colleague had twenty-five dollars in savings at the bank. Opening the metal box, he took out a twenty-dollar note along with a five and handed it to Mrs. Tucker.
“Bless you,” she said.
He thumbed through the money again, removing three hundred additional notes, and held the money out to her. She jumped back in her seat like he’d offered her a vial of arsenic.
“I can’t take that.”
“It’s the reward money,” he explained. “Frank offered it to whoever recovered the money.”
She stared at the money but didn’t extend her hand.
“You don’t have to spend it on yourself.” He glanced over at the doorway and saw her two children peeking through the entryway. “Use it to take care of them.”
Her gaze traveled over to her children before returning to him. “Are you certain about the reward?”
“God blesses honesty, Mrs. Tucker.” He held it out to her. “And I’m certain Frank Powell would keep his promise to reward you for your honesty as well.”
In this time, when temptations are great and subtle reason sits upon the throne, do not let your power of discernment be taken away.
Johann Friedrich Rock, 1745
Chapter Thirty
Frank almost leaped out of the cab when he saw the box under Jacob’s arm, but Adam blocked him with his arm. Frank pushed against his arm, but the imposing man didn’t budge. “Let him finish his job.”
“But what if he…”
Frank couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence. If that box contained what he thought it did, his livelihood—and his reputation—rested in the arms of Jacob Hirsch. His former employee had proven himself trustworthy, but the temptation of that much money would weigh heavy on the strongest of men. It might be unbearable for an unemployed man with a child.
“We will watch him, ja?” Adam said. “Make certain he finishes well.”
Frank tried to sit back against the padded seat, but his chest felt like it was about to explode. During his many sleepless nights, he’d imagined what it would be like to recover the bank’s money, but as the weeks passed, he’d lost hope that he would ever find Jacob or the money. Now the money appeared to be found, but Jacob hadn’t taken it. Frank had been swindled by his own nephew—the man to whom he’d planned to leave his business. Instead of raising an heir, he’d trained a thief.
At least he had discovered the truth before it was too late. Or, rather, Jacob had discovered it.
Jacob stepped into a black cab in front of them, and Frank shouted up to their driver, telling the hackman to hurry.
He breathed deeply, trying to stay calm, but a new thought bubbled in his mind. What if Orwin and Jacob were in collaboration? Orwin may have passed on, but even now Jacob could take the money. Or maybe Orwin wasn’t even dead. This could be the next step in their scheme to steal from the bank.
He glanced over at Adam. The man’s face was calm, though his lips moved in earnest and his eyes were focused on the hansom cab in front of them. Frank hoped God heard the man’s prayers…and he hoped Adam wasn’t in on a plan to take his money too.
Jacob’s cab turned right, and their hackman followed.
No matter what happened, Frank wouldn’t let Jacob out of his sight. The money belonged to Caldwell, Marshall, Stanley, and the rest of his customers. They’d hired him to protect it, and he’d do everything he could to get it back into their hands.
An elevated transit rattled over the trestle above Jacob’s cab. The buggy vibrated with the clatter of the railway, and he clutched the metal box with both hands so it wouldn’t drop to the floor. As soon as he was back at the bank, handing the box over to Frank, he would be a free man again. His name would be cleared, and Adam and he would hop on the next train toward Iowa so he could surprise Cassie and Liesel with the good news.
Minutes later a commuter train blocked the road in front of his cab, and he tapped the lid of the metal box as they waited for the train to pass. No one knew how much was in this box except Orwin. Mrs. Tucker hadn’t counted it, and Frank didn’t know yet that Orwin had stolen the money.
He slid his hand across the cool metal lid. He didn’t need thousands of dollars, but five or six hundred dollars would help him purchase a nice home in Iowa. When the economy returned, he could obtain a position at another bank.
Reaching up, he fingered the key around his neck. It was almost as if God had delivered this gift right into his hands. Justice. He could pocket a thousand dollars and Frank would never know. Or two thousand.
He closed his eyes, his imagination wandering. What would it be like if he jumped on the next train out of town with the entire money box? It would be hours before Adam knew he was missing, and then there would nothing the man could do about it except catch the morning train home. He could sneak Cassie out during the night…and convince Liesel to come with him too.
He raked his fingers through his hair.
Adam was right—the enemy was real, and it was in moments like this that the opposition was strong. It would be so easy to steal this money and disappear.
Emil went out in the rain to fetch hot coffee along with some cheese and bread. Though her father was too weak to get out of bed this afternoon, he was awake and hungry. Liesel insisted that he rest, like the doctor said, but he listened to her as well as he’d listened when she told him to find someone else to balance Amana’s books.
He kept trying to stand up even though his legs wouldn’t support him, and each time he tried, she had to lift him back into the bed.
Albert wiped his glasses on his nightshirt. “Bring me the ledgers,” he grumbled. “At least I can do that in bed.”
Her fists flew to her hips, and she shook h
er head. “I will most certainly not get you those books.”
“I can’t be idle, child. I’ll lose my mind as well as my strength.”
“There are other ways to occupy your mind, Vater.”
“My mind is not easily appeased.”
Liesel reached for one of the old leather books and opened to the printed words of their leader Christian Metz’s testimony in 1834. Sitting back in the chair, she began to read.
“‘The name Jesus is indeed a mighty fortress to all who seek His protective care. He is a soothing power wherever He speaks and whenever He makes His presence known. The name of Jesus is a healing balm to all who come to Him.
“‘He is the true Healer for all who, unreservedly, entrust all pain, injury, and illness to His care. To them He will administer the good medicine which, though bitter to the taste, has the power to penetrate body, soul, and spirit, dissolving all hardness of heart.’”
The inspired words of their Werkzeuge—the men and women God used as instruments to communicate to their Society—lingered, and for a moment she thought she’d upset her father with the choice of her testimony. His gaze wandered from the raindrops on the window back to her face.
“Thank you, Liesel,” he said. “It is good to hear about our true Healer, ja?”
“Yes, it is.”
“You are very much like your mother. She loved to read.”
“My mother?” she said quietly. Her father never talked about the woman who’d left both of them so long ago.
Liesel closed the dusty book and placed it on the nightstand. “What else did Mother like to do?”
“Aah…so many things.” He sighed, the lingering sadness woven into his words. “Rachel loved walking by the river and singing the hymns. She loved pretty things…and loved to dream about wearing fancy dresses and hats. The Elders warned me about marrying her because she longed so often for worldly things, but I wouldn’t be convinced otherwise.”
Liesel leaned closer, her mind longing for the truth. “Why did she leave us, Vater?”
“Her parents didn’t join the Society until Rachel was twelve years old.”
“Ja, I know.”
His voice sounded weak as he wrestled with his next words. “She was old enough to remember the world and its entrapments. And she longed for them.”
“Why didn’t she leave when she was of age instead of waiting until…” Her voice cracked, but she was determined to hear the truth. “Until after I was born?”
“Rachel didn’t want to leave back then. She loved her parents, and I like to think she loved me as well. Our first years of marriage were good. She was content in her work at the mill, and she seemed happy in our home too.”
“And then you had me.”
“We were blessed with you, Liesel.”
“She didn’t want to have children, did she?”
“She thought she wanted children….” He cleared his throat. “You were a good baby, but she didn’t know what to do with you.”
“So one day she decided to leave….”
“She didn’t just decide, Liesel.” Her father’s face paled. “There was a man who came to Amana. A salesman.”
She set the book of testimonies into her lap. “Oh, Vater.”
“He was a handsome man and he told such wonderful stories about the outside world. She couldn’t seem to help herself.”
“So she ran away with him….”
“Not right away.” Her father’s voice sounded small. “He left months before she did, but I found their letters, and when I did…she packed up and never returned home.”
Liesel blinked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought one day she would return, asking for forgiveness. I would forgive her and we would resume our life as a family. The community knew she left, but no one knew she went to live with an outsider. I didn’t want them to know that when she came back either.”
“Do you still hope?”
“I still have hope in God but no hope that Rachel will return. A decade ago someone sent me a letter with no return address. Inside was an obituary for a Rachel Barington, born in Iowa City on August 12, 1842. The day your mother was born.”
“So she’s gone forever.”
“Ja, she is, but I try to recall the good memories with her instead of the bad ones.”
Liesel gently squeezed her father’s arm. He’d carried this burden for so long, protecting both his daughter and the wife whom he’d loved. Rachel Barington had left him alone in this world to raise their child, and even so, he’d been willing to forgive her. That was true love.
“Not all outsiders are bad, Vater.”
“Perhaps not, Liesel, but you and I—we don’t belong to the outside world.”
A protest formed on her lips—Jacob Hirsch was different than other outsiders and very different from this salesman who had seduced her mother. But what could she say to convince her wounded father that their community should welcome an outsider into their fold? Few joined their Colonies over the years, but most of those who did join served faithfully until their deaths. Her mother was an outsider at birth and chose to leave this world for the outside as well.
She’d relished the words in Jacob’s short letter while her father slept last night. He had assured her again that she could trust him and that he would return soon. She wanted him to hurry back to her, but she was also scared that her father was right—when Jacob came back to town the Elders wouldn’t let him stay.
The front door opened outside the room, and someone stomped across the hallway. Emil stood at the doorway seconds later, panting. His dripping slicker left a puddle on the floor.
Liesel stood up. “What is it?”
Emil took a deep breath before he spoke. “Schmidt’s basement is flooding.”
He, the Lion of Judah, roars mightily to awaken and invigorate all who have sunk into a deathlike sleep. Stirred to jump to their feet, they no longer choose the anxieties of this world over God’s peace.
Johann Adam Gruber, 1717
Chapter Thirty-One
Frank swore as the hansom cab turned the corner and dumped them onto another frenzied street. Cabs scurried in every direction, their drivers dressed in identical black cloaks and hats. Cyclones of paper swirled over the cobblestones as horses scuttled through the trashfilled streets, vendors shouted at the hurried crowds, and bicyclists wove through the throng.
If Jacob hopped out into this street, they’d never find him. There were a million hiding places for him and the money.
The horses on their cab turned left on Clark Street, toward the bank, and Frank held his breath as they neared Second National. There was no other cab waiting on the street, nor was Jacob standing outside the locked doors. Adam didn’t speak, but he was scanning the sidewalk too.
Frank pounded his fist into his palm. He’d had Jacob in sight along with the bank’s money, and he’d let him walk away.
Did Jacob know he was being followed? Perhaps Jacob and Orwin had collaborated all along. Now that Orwin was gone, Jacob had control of their cache…or was Orwin really gone? Maybe Orwin was waiting someplace for Jacob and the two would escape together.
Frank’s head spun as he paid the hackman and stepped out before Adam, onto the wooden sidewalk. He unlocked the bank’s doors, but he left up the nickel-plated sign stating they were closed so that none of his customers could watch him break down.
Inside the lobby, his heels clapped as he paced the floor. He should have overpowered Adam and taken the box when he had the opportunity. Everything he’d worked for, everything men like Stanley Roberts and others had worked for, it was all gone. He’d sell everything he had to cover his losses, but it wouldn’t be enough to save the bank. One of the most respected banks in Chicago would disappear, and then who would people trust with their money?
The bell clattered with the opening of the door, and he held his breath until he saw a man’s cap. And his face. He almost leaped into the air.
Jacob had retu
rned, with the metal box in his hands.
Frank stammered over his words. “I—I didn’t think you were coming back.”
Jacob took a key from his neck and held it out to Frank. “It’s not mine.”
The metal seemed to tingle in his hands as Frank slid the key into the lock and turned it. Inside the box were stacks of bills. Money that belonged in his vault.
He clasped the box to his side. “You’ve—you’ve saved the bank.”
“Mrs. Tucker saved it by returning the money.”
Frank set the box on a desk, pulling out the notes. “I owe you the reward.”
Jacob shook his head. “I gave the reward money to Mrs. Tucker.”
Frank blinked, marveling at the honesty of the man he’d thought was a thief. “That’s commendable, Jacob.”
“It was the right thing to do.”
Frank motioned for Jacob to take a chair beside Adam, a plan formulating in his mind. Orwin was gone, and he needed someone to take over the bank when he retired. Someone he could trust with his accounts…and his customers.
He sat down behind the metal box. “I’ve been working at this bank for almost fifty years.”
“Yes, sir.”
“My father passed the bank on to me, but I have no son to take over my family’s work and follow me as president. I had hoped my nephew would….” He twisted the key in his hand. “I’m planning to retire next year, and I need to train someone to take my place. Someone with integrity.”
Jacob scooted forward a few inches, listening to him.
“You know this bank, Jacob, and you’ve proven yourself to be someone I can trust.” He closed the lid of the box and locked it. “I would like to extend the offer to come back to Second National with the intention of taking over as president next year.”
Jacob rubbed both of his ears as if his hearing had failed him. Frank smiled back at him with a mix of relief and desperation and repeated his offer. He wanted Jacob to move back to Chicago and take over the management of Second National Building and Loan.
Love Finds You in Homestead, Iowa Page 21
