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 bre
athing 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?”
I wondered who was with the schoolchildren but didn’t ask. Such a question might imply I didn’t trust the teacher’s judgment. And nothing could be further from the truth.
He mopped his brow one final time and shoved his handkerchief into his pocket. “Stefan brings me here in the middle of the day, Sister Gretchen. This is the third day he has been absent from school, and I am concerned about his illness. Did you receive my message?” His head pitched forward several inches, and he stared at me with bulging eyes.
My throat constricted, and I wondered if my voice would fail me when I attempted to speak. I opened my mouth, and a weak croak escaped my throat. I coughed. “No, no, I di-di-dn’t receive any m-m-message.” Fear and anger collided inside my stomach and set it roiling. Where was Stefan? If he hadn’t been in school for more than two days, where had he been? My thoughts reeled. The past two evenings he’d asked me to bring his supper home to him so he could continue working on his school assignments. He’d likely feared Brother Otto would see him at supper and inquire about his absence. And here I had thought he’d turned over a new leaf and was dedicating himself to making good grades. I clenched my hands until they ached.
“I thought as much. Today at recess I pulled Freddie aside and quizzed him. He could not look me in the eye, and when I threatened to talk to his Vater, he said he didn’t know if Stefan was sick or not.” Brother Otto leaned back in the chair. “So this is why I come here. To learn for sure the truth about Stefan.”
How I wished my father would walk through the door and take charge. I didn’t want this role of substitute mother. “Stefan is not ill, Brother Otto. I thought he was at school. He left this morning with his books. I have not seen him since then.”
“And the last two days? I looked, but I did not see him in the Küche for his supper either night.”
I cleared my throat. “He said he had a great deal of schoolwork to complete. Both evenings he asked if I would carry his supper home to him.” Brother Otto peered over the top of his glasses. His stern look took me back to those days when I’d been a student in his classroom. I wiggled in my chair.
“So he has lied to you, to me, and to God.”
The pronouncement sounded harsh. I wasn’t sure Stefan had discussed the matter with God, but the fact that he’d lied did mean he needed God’s forgiveness. “Ja, for sure he lied to you and to me.”
“And where do you think young Stefan is spending his days?”
“I can’t be sure, Brother Otto, but I will do everything in my power to find him. Once my Vater returns to the store, I will begin my search.”
“And you must tell your Vater everything so that he may deal with Stefan. I understand you are not his Mutter, but you are the next best thing.” He tapped his finger against the rim of hair that surrounded his bald head. “Is too bad your Oma isn’t so good in the head anymore. Sister Helga could make him mind, for sure.” He placed a palm on each knee for leverage and pushed to a stand.
I jumped to my feet. “Thank you for your concern, Brother Otto. You can be sure that Stefan will be in class tomorrow.”
“Ja, I will be expecting him. You should walk him to school in the morning to make sure he arrives.”
That was the last thing I wanted to do. My mornings were already filled with chores at the store and looking after Oma. Now Brother Otto thought I should walk Stefan to school? I gritted my teeth at the very idea. Just wait until I found my brother.
My thoughts scattered in all directions as I walked to the door with Brother Otto. I bid him good-day, feeling as though I was the one who had been chastised for missing school. Anger took hold and I marched back to the counter. Maybe I should walk Stefan to school and let him suffer a bit of embarrassment. It would serve him right. After all, I’d been required to endure Brother Otto’s lecture.
I wasn’t certain where to begin my search. I glanced about the store. Conrad would help me—he’d know what to do. Then again, I couldn’t leave the store until my father returned.
Brother Otto had been gone only a few minutes when Conrad reappeared at my side. “Problems with Stefan?”
“Ja. He has been missing from school for two days now. I must go and look for him when Vater returns. There is no telling where he might be. I don’t know where to begin. Maybe I should talk to Freddie. He might know.” I scanned the store. “Did Mr. Finley go back to the hotel?”
Conrad shrugged. “I think he’s out by the apple tree, but maybe that would be a gut place for him to wait for your Vater. I don’t like him in here all the time talking sweet to you.”
“He is not accustomed to our ways. Once he knows better, he will speak in a proper fashion. Besides, he does not talk sweet to me.” I felt heat rise in my cheeks.
“Ach!” Conrad slapped his palm on the counter. “What do you call it when he says you are unforgettable? Is that not sweet talk?”
I sighed, not knowing how I should answer without starting an argument. We had mended our last argument over Mr. Finley, and I didn’t want another. “First you think I am in love with a Gypsy, and now you say Mr. Finley talks sweet with me. Honestly, Conrad, you try my patience. Right now I must worry about Stefan.”
He tapped his chest with his index finger. “I was not the one to mention Mr. Finley’s name. You’re the one who wanted to know if he had returned to the hotel.”
“Could we talk about Stefan?”
With a nod he shifted and rested his hip against the counter. “There’s no need to waste time asking Freddie. His loyalty is to Stefan. He will tell us nothing, but I’m certain we can find your brother.”
“You know where he is?” My excitement mounted.
“Not for sure, but the first place I would look is at the Gypsy camp.”
I shook my head, unwilling to consider the idea. “He would not go there, Conrad. He promised. He gave me his word.”
“Ja, but he is a boy, and boys like excitement. These Gypsies and that white horse, they are enough to make him take a risk and break his promise. He probably only intended to go down there for an hour or so before school, but then it was too much fun for him to leave.”
A group of visitors entered the store, and I lowered my voice and hissed. “Fun? If he is at that Gypsy camp, it will be a long time before he has any fun again. I must take care of these customers, but as soon as Vater returns, I’m going to that Gypsy camp.”
“Nein. You must not go down there alone. Come to the barbershop when you are ready to go. I’ll close the shop and put up my sign that I’ll return in an hour.”
I grinned at him. “I hope you have your sign in the window right now, or one of the men might be wondering if the barber ever is in his shop.”
“You are right. I had better go back, but promise you will come for me. Or better yet, that your Vater would go with me.”
“No! Stefan made his agreement with me. I should be the one to go after him, but your company would be welcome.”
While Conrad strode toward the front door, I approached the small group of visitors and gave them a shortened version of my speech. With thoughts of S
tefan and the Gypsies skittering through my mind, it was impossible to concentrate. Besides, the women were more interested in the lace and fabric than learning about our customs or faith. After pointing them to the items, I returned to my position behind the counter. There were shelves that I could stock, but I pulled out my journal and began to write. Writing would calm me more than sorting and shelving.
I was well into my story about the disappearance of my brother when one of the customers motioned to me. “I could use some help over here.” I slipped from my stool and hurried across the room. The moment I approached, all three ladies decided they needed assistance with their selections. The fact that outsiders requested my help always surprised me. It would seem more logical for them to rely upon the opinions of one another rather than a store clerk wearing a dress of untrimmed dark blue calico. But now that I’d had an opportunity to look through the ladies’ magazines Mr. Finley had left in my possession, I believed I could lend a bit more expertise. When one of the customers pulled a bolt of beige, red, and navy plaid, I dug through the trims for red braided cording and held it up for her inspection.
“Oh, that is absolutely perfect,” the woman cooed. “Look at this, Rose. Isn’t it an ideal match?”
The woman known as Rose nodded her head and signaled me to join her. She pointed to another piece of fabric. “Find me something even better to go with this,” she whispered. “I don’t want Jean attending club meeting in a dress that will gain more attention than mine.”
Though I didn’t understand such silliness, I searched through the trims and laces until I found a length of crocheted lace with a thread of pale pink woven into the design. When I held it aloft for her inspection, she leaped to my side and grabbed my arm.
“Put it down. I don’t want the others to see what I’m choosing.” A slight blush colored her cheeks. “This may sound strange to you, but I don’t like others to copy what I wear.” She tipped her head close. “And given the slightest opportunity, Rose is prone to imitate my clothing. Rather childish of her and highly annoying.”
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