Heidi clung to Jan’s hands, and Søren’s voice dropped to a whisper as she finished. “He could see the horses and . . . Dieter and Gretchen still lying where they had fallen.”
The clock on the shelf ticked on in the quiet after Søren translated Heidi’s last words. No one spoke.
Jan pondered Heidi’s tale, understanding—at last—the origins of Adolphe’s animus toward him. And he thought he understood something else as well.
“Ernst and Frank,” Jan said quietly. “They are Dieter’s sønns, not Adolphe’s.”
Heidi nodded. “Ja, they are. When we buried Dieter and his wife, Adolphe and Rakel helped us through our grief. They took care of the boys, the farm, everything while we grieved.”
Her shoulders moved in another heavy sigh. “They took the boys home with them just for a few days, Adolphe told us. But after a week or so they announced, We will adopt them. It is God’s provision, both for us and for them. We did not want to give up our grandbabies, but Adolphe said we must think of their needs rather than ourselves.”
And yet . . . Jan mulled over how Adolphe treated the young men. He realized Heidi’s story was not finished.
“We prayed! Oh, we prayed! And we believed they were right. The boys would give Adolphe and Rakel the family they wanted and needed. That was almost nineteen years ago, and for a long time this was so.”
She looked again into Jan’s eyes. “Do you see how sweet a disposition Ernst has? How tender Frank is? As they became young men, the boys looked and acted more and more like their father—not like Adolphe, but like Dieter!
“We saw Adolphe change toward the boys. He has tried so much to keep them from becoming what they are—Dieter’s sons. But nothing can prevent that, can it? And then you came, Herr Thoresen, so much like Dieter in your personality: A good man, a natural leader, and everyone liking you. Ach! I think our Adolphe hated you on sight.
“The worst part for Adolphe is . . . how Ernst and Frank look at you. They will never look at Adolphe like that, and it has driven him . . . mad.”
Jan stood up abruptly and strode over to the stove, ostensibly to pour another cup of coffee. He stood at the stove, his heart breaking for Heidi and her grandsons, for his family and the church.
So much damage because of Adolphe’s twisted mind and heart! And he, Jan, had unwittingly played a part in that damage. How could he undo the harm his own “righteous” anger had done—now that he understood how wounded Adolphe was at his core?
Lord, can you heal the harm I have done?
“I must go to the German church and ask forgiveness,” Jan murmured. “I will pray first for the right timing, but it must be soon.”
It was a few days after Heidi’s revelations; Jan and Søren were at work with the cutter. Between the two homesteads, Jan and Søren still had sod to bust—more backbreaking labor so that they could plant all their fields.
It is our eighth spring here, Jan reflected. And never did I dream Elli would not be here with me this spring.
They were working the farthest fields north along the creek when they heard the echoing clang of the dinner bell. It was only midmorning. Amalie was calling them home for some other reason.
When they arrived at the house, a horse and wagon were tied near the kitchen door. Ernst and his younger brother Frank greeted Jan and Søren with silent nods. Heidi stood on the porch, her expression uncharacteristically sad.
“Father and Mother packed up Großmutti’s belongings,” Ernst muttered. “Father sent us to deliver them to her.” It was not difficult for Jan to recognize the resentment simmering behind Ernst’s hard face and clipped words.
“Come in, Ernst. Come in, Frank,” Jan invited. “Have some coffee and visit your grandmother, eh? Let’s talk together for a few minutes.”
“We are not to stay,” Ernst’s words grated. He cut his eyes toward Jan. “We are not to step into your home.”
So much anger roiled just beneath the surface of Ernst’s words! But not toward him, Jan sensed. Frank studied his feet and added nothing.
“I see,” Jan replied quietly. He glanced at Heidi who shook her head. “I am sorry for this. I have only good will toward both of you, ja? I hope you will still consider me a friend even if we cannot visit as such.”
Frank looked up at him with what Jan felt was hope but quickly tore his eyes away. Ernst answered, his voice flat, “We are to unload her things and return immediately.”
“Ja, let us help you do that,” Jan answered.
The two young men, brushing off Jan’s offer, lifted a few boxes and a heavy trunk from the wagon and placed them on the ground. “This is everything,” Ernst growled. “We have to leave now so that we are home on time.”
Jan nodded and the boys clambered up onto the wagon’s bench. Ernst kept his eyes facing forward, but Jan saw his jaw working.
Ach, Lord! These poor young men! Jan lamented.
He and Søren made short work of bringing Heidi’s things into the house; they set them on her bedroom floor. After they left, Heidi went into her room and closed the door.
That night after dinner, Heidi requested to speak to Jan and Amalie privately again, but of course their conversation required Søren.
She cradled an old Bible on her lap. “Herr Thoresen, I am thanking God that my grandsons brought Tomas’ Bible—our family Bible—to me today. I was afraid Adolphe would not send it!”
Jan nodded. “It must be precious to you.”
“Ja, but what is inside is more precious!”
“What can be more precious than God’s word, eh?” Jan smiled.
Heidi opened the large Bible and offered Jan a shrewd grimace. “Of course nothing is more precious than God’s word, but perhaps my grandsons’ future is also important?”
On the table in front of her was a small, sharp knife. She placed the heavy Bible on the table, picked up the knife and, with care, began to slice between the back cover and the stiff paper glued to it. Amalie and Søren leaned forward, intrigued.
From between the outside and inside covers Heidi withdrew a thin sheet of paper. She handed it to Søren. “Read, please?”
Søren struggled with the fine script and formal German words. “Letzter Wille und Testament?”
“Ja,” Heidi whispered. “Tomas’ will.”
Søren pored over the paper. “This says that Tomas leaves the sum of one hundred dollars to Adolphe but gives his homestead to his son Dieter. And that you may live there the rest of your life.”
“Read on, Søren,” Heidi urged.
“But if Dieter dies . . . before this will is in effect, then the homestead goes to his sons, Ernst and Frank Veicht?”
“That is right,” Heidi affirmed. “Ernst and Frank are Dieter’s sons. The homestead now belongs to them.”
She turned to Jan. “You saw how beaten down my grandsons are, ja? Do you think if I had revealed this paper to Adolphe after Tomas died it would have survived?”
Jan slowly shook his head and Heidi leaned toward him. “Herr Thoresen, I need your help. Ernst is now twenty-one years old. He can inherit. When you go to ask forgiveness, will you read this before the church? It must be read before all or I fear Adolphe will find a way to destroy it.”
Ah, Lord! Jan groaned inside.
~~**~~
Chapter 28
Jan relinquished precious plowing time the next morning to visit Henrik, Norvald, and Rikkert. He took with him Heidi and Tomas’ family Bible and Tomas’ will.
When Henrik understood what Jan proposed to do, he joined him and rode with him to Norvald’s farm. The three of them then drove to Rikkert and Duna’s farm.
Rikkert’s face paled when Jan told him what he would do on Sunday. “Ah, Jan! It will go badly, don’t you think?” He licked his lips and frowned.
Jan studied his friend. “Rikkert, I say this to you as a brother, with these men as witnesses. You were ordained as an elder in the church—but you have neglected your duty to God and our congregation. Your silence h
as allowed many wrong things to happen.”
Rikkert winced and his expression saddened. “I know,” he whispered. “I know.”
Norvald placed his hand on Rikkert’s shoulder. “It is never too late to do the right thing, my brother. And we will pray the Lord to give you the courage to do the right thing when the time comes, ja?”
“Norvald will interpret for me, but I wish you to come with me Sunday,” Jan murmured later to Søren. “I wish you to witness my repentance, but I leave the decision to you. I tell you now that it will be difficult for you to watch. I have promised the Lord that I will be humble and gentle. I will not speak in anger to Minister Veicht, no matter what is said.”
Søren looked away and considered Jan’s request. “I will come.”
Jan clapped him on the back. “Gut, my sønn. Then shall we pray together about it?”
Søren nodded.
Service was almost over; Adolphe was concluding his teaching when Rikkert, who was sitting near the back of the men’s side, stood and walked across the room to the door. When he opened it, Jan, Søren, Norvald, and Henrik quietly entered.
Adolphe paused mid-sentence. “You! You are not welcome here!”
The congregation began murmuring, and some repeated Adolphe’s words.
“I have come to ask forgiveness,” Jan said just loud enough for all to hear him. Norvald immediately repeated his words in German.
“So! You have come to repent, have you?” Adolphe’s face was red, but he seemed to embrace the idea of Jan humbling himself.
“May I speak to the church?” Jan asked.
Adolphe studied Jan for several seconds.
“Let him speak!” one of the men called. A murmur of assent went around the room.
Adolphe thought for a moment more. “I wish the elders to come forward,” he directed. “Herr Thoresen, you will come and kneel in front of us to make your confession.”
Søren gasped, but Jan gripped his arm. “Be quiet, Sønn,” was his stern instruction.
Jan, followed by Norvald, walked to the front. Jan knelt, facing the people; Norvald stood to the side.
“I ask forgiveness of you all,” he said quietly. “When I was last here, I allowed my temper to speak. My temper brought strife and division to this church. Some who left and some of you here are still angry. The Bible says strife, discord, and division are works of the flesh.”
Behind him, Adolphe was nodding his head.
Jan continued. “I ask your forgiveness for the words I spoke in anger. I ask your forgiveness for not handling the situation regarding me and my brother’s wife better. If I had spoken privately with the elders and Herr Veicht, there would have been no public strife.
“I have asked forgiveness of my family and my brother’s wife. I will ask forgiveness of those who have left the church. I will ask them to put away their anger and bitterness so that it will not lead to sin.
“I now ask your forgiveness for the strife my angry words caused. Will you forgive me? Will you also put away your anger?” Jan’s words were spoken earnestly; he looked most of the men in the eye as he spoke. Many of them nodded in response.
Jan got to his feet. “I would also request the opportunity to speak to Herr Veicht and the elders on another issue. I would not speak of it openly, but in private.”
“What! You are done? You do not ask forgiveness of me?” Adolphe asked, his voice rising. “You disrespected my office and stole my mother’s affections! These are great offenses!”
“I am sorry for the discord between you and your mother. Perhaps we can speak of that privately?” Jan answered, his voice still quiet.
“Nein!” Adolphe roared. “Anything you wish to say will be said in the open. And you will not receive this congregation’s forgiveness until your repentance is complete! You have disrespected my office. You have broken family ties. These things are great sins!”
Jan sighed. “If I had done those things, I would ask forgiveness. Perhaps you and I can speak of our trespasses to each other privately?”
“You can speak of nothing to me privately!” Adolphe scoffed. “I am the minister here. I have not transgressed against you; it is you who has transgressed against me and my office.”
Jan looked at the floor for several moments. “Then, respectfully, I must also repent of something else. I repent of not speaking up earlier, when Tomas died and you took on the office of minister.”
He sighed. “I now bring to the congregation’s attention that the charter of this church was broken after Tomas passed.” Norvald translated Jan’s words as quickly as he spoke them.
“According to the charter, a new lay minister must be brought before the congregation by the elders and approved by a vote. This was not done. In assuming the leadership of the church without following the charter, I am obliged to say that you erred, Herr Veicht.”
Jan’s tone was gentle and even, but Adolphe blustered at his words. “More disrespect! You have not come to ask forgiveness but to stir up more discord!”
Jan, as though Adolphe had not spoken, now turned to the elders. “I call upon the elders to affirm if Adolphe was correctly installed as the lay minister of this church.”
He looked first to Rikkert. “Rikkert Kappel. Was Adolphe Veicht selected by the elders, approved by vote of the congregation, and publicly ordained?”
Rikkert, his eyes glued to the back wall, spoke clearly. “He was not selected by the elders, approved by the congregation, nor ordained. I, too, must repent for allowing the charter to be broken. I ask forgiveness of the church for shirking my duties as an elder of this church.”
Jan nodded. Klaus and Gunnar stared at Rikkert, their mouths agape.
“And you, Gunnar Braun and Klaus Schöener,” Jan continued, still in a gentle voice, “Did you also shirk your duties by not following the charter of this church? Did you allow Herr Veicht to assume the leadership of the church without following the regulations of the charter?”
A confusion of congregational murmuring and shouting by Adolphe made it impossible to hear what Klaus and Gunnar said. It was Norvald who thundered the words, “Silence! There must be order in the church of God!”
He faced Klaus and Gunnar and repeated Jan’s question. “Answer before the church, please,” he insisted.
To his credit, Gunnar answered. “I wish to speak—” he said clearly.
The congregation quieted, but Adolphe shouted, “You will not speak! This is outrageous! Under a cloak of false repentance this, this man,” he pointed a shaking finger at Jan, “has again brought strife into the house of God! He must be removed, immediately!”
“Twice I asked to speak privately of these things, nei?” Jan answered. “Twice you refused, even insisting that I speak of them openly.”
Adolphe pointed to several large men in the congregation. “Remove this evildoer from us!”
“Nein!” Gunnar shouted into the din. “Nein! I am an elder in this church, and I will speak!” He faced Adolphe. “You do not have authority to silence an elder. You will listen, Herr Veicht.”
It was Adolphe’s turn to stare with his mouth open. Before Adolphe could recover, Gunnar continued. “What Herr Thoresen and Herr Kappel say is true. We did not follow the charter—but is that oversight not easily remedied? Can we not now vote on and ordain Herr Veicht as our minister?”
“Would you not first need to bring back those who have left over this issue and have them vote also?” Norvald asked.
“More importantly,” Jan inserted, “Should not the will of Herr Tomas Veicht be read first?”
Red-faced, Adolphe sputtered and started to protest.
“Hold. You are not the minister here yet,” Norvald interrupted. “Herr Thoresen is right. The error began at Tomas’ funeral when we were all grieving. His will was never read, and the charter was not followed in filling his position.”
“Will?” Adolphe shouted. “What will? There is no will! As his son, I inherited his property! There is no will that says other
wise!”
“Ja, there is,” Jan answered quietly.
Norvald motioned again for the congregation to quiet. “Frau Heidi Veicht has provided Tomas’ will. Do you wish to see it? To hear it read?”
“This is a lie!” Adolphe protested. “There is no will! I would know. I have searched and found nothing!”
“Because you did not know where Tomas placed it for safekeeping,” Norvald replied. He held up Tomas’ family Bible. “Do you recognize this?”
He showed it first to the three elders who all nodded their recognition. Then he showed it to Adolphe who attempted to grab it out of Norvald’s hands.
“This is not yours!” Adolphe roared. “How dare you steal what is mine!”
“Nein,” Norvald answered, still in a calm, authoritative voice. “This Bible belongs to Frau Heidi Veicht. You yourself packed it and sent it to her by the hand of her grandsons, Ernst and Frank Veicht.
“It is not your property but hers,” Norvald insisted. “She asked Herr Thoresen and his son, Søren, to witness what we are about to show you.”
He opened the book and gestured the three elders to gather around. Holding it toward the congregation, Norvald separated the back cover. “See this? Tomas glued the covers together. But first, Tomas placed his will between them.”
A hush descended as Norvald pulled the single sheet from between the pages. He showed it to the elders. “Is this the writing of Tomas Veicht?”
“Ja,” answered Klaus. “I know it well.”
The other elders concurred. “It is Tomas’ writing.”
Adolphe attempted to wrest the sheet from Norvald, but Klaus held up his hand. “Let all things be done decently and in order, Herr Veicht. If this is Tomas’ will, then we will read it aloud to the congregation. You will hear it as we hear it, ja?”
He pointed to the front row bench. “Please sit down.”
“You do not tell me what to do!” Adolphe thundered.
Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) Page 21
