Her mouth agape, Mina dropped the kettle onto the stove with a bang. “You went to the Gypsy camp alone? You know better, Gretchen Kohler!”
Perching a fist on each hip, I met her hard stare with one of my own. “What was I supposed to do?”
She squared her shoulders and pointed at me. “You could have asked Conrad to go with you. Even Stefan would be a better choice than to go alone.”
“Stefan wasn’t around. Besides, there wasn’t time to seek help. I didn’t want Vater to know Oma had been to the Gypsy camp. You know how he feels about taking her to Mount Pleasant.”
Her shoulders dropped a notch and her gaze softened. “Ja, I know, but I don’t think he will really send her away. If your Mutter were alive, he knows she would object. If nothing else, he will think twice because of your Mutter’s wishes.”
“Maybe, but I can’t be certain. He isn’t the same as when Mutter was alive. Now he acts angry most of the time.” As I spoke, I recalled his kindness over reading the books and added, “But once in a while I see a glimmer of the man he used to be—his kind heart—but mostly he is unhappy or provoked.”
“If he speaks of Mount Pleasant, you should remind him of your Mutter’s wishes. Even if it makes him angry, it will cause him to think.” She tapped her finger to the side of her head. “And he needs to think before he does something foolish. Your grandmother belongs in Homestead with her family.”
Mina didn’t need to preach at me. I already agreed with her. It was my father who needed to be convinced. “I will remind him, but I hope you will move ahead with the idea for the Älterschule.” Though I agreed to tell my father, I wasn’t sure I could carry through. To dispute Vater when he was annoyed usually made matters worse rather than better.
Mina didn’t comment on the Älterschule. From her frown, I could see she didn’t want yet another reminder from me. She grabbed a knife and pointed to the ham. “I’ll slice the ham. You slice the bread. We need to make sandwiches.” After we both set to work, she said, “Now, tell me what happened when you got to the grove near the Gypsy camp.”
Hoping to justify my actions further, I told her that I hadn’t gone into the camp, but that Lalah had come to the grove. “The girl was quite dirty, but from the moment I set eyes on her, I wondered about her parents. She didn’t look like a Gypsy.”
Over the next few minutes, Mina asked all the questions I had hoped to hear. One by one, I answered them; then I mustered courage for my question. “I need to go speak with Lalah—to see if she has that dark spot on her head. I know she probably isn’t the Loftons’ child, but I can’t quit thinking about the possibility.” I touched Mina’s sleeve. “And just think what it would mean to them if she is their child. Not only would it restore their lives, but it would give Lalah the opportunity she deserves for a better life.”
Mina stared at me as though she hadn’t understood a word I’d said. Finally she took a backward step. “Are you saying that you want to go back to the Gypsy camp?” When I nodded, she hesitated for only a moment. “Now? You want to go there now?”
“After we take the food to the workers, I could go to the grove, and you could return to the Küche.”
“And what am I to tell Sister Marguerite when she asks why you’ve disappeared from the Küche?”
Mina wouldn’t lie, so I would have to find a solution. I thought for several minutes and then turned to her. “Before we leave for the field, I’ll tell Sister Marguerite that I need to stop by the store on our return so that I can check on Oma and make certain Vater doesn’t need my help.”
I saw the disbelief in Mina’s eyes. “You would lie?”
“It won’t be a lie. I’ll stop by the store after I go to the Gypsy camp. Then I will return to the Küche.” I could see the hesitation in Mina’s eyes, but I was pleased with the plan.
She slapped a piece of ham between two slices of bread. “I’m not so sure this is gut. I don’t like you going to that camp alone. What if something should happen to you? Maybe if Conrad went with you, I wouldn’t worry so much.”
Asking Conrad wasn’t a part of my plan. Besides, since the incident over the mail to Mr. Finley, Conrad wasn’t easily influenced. He would likely tell me the idea was foolish and I should stay away from the Gypsies.
I handed Mina several more slices of bread. “It would take far too long. My way is best.”
“That’s what you always think, but I’m not so sure.”
Instead of arguing, I remained silent. There wasn’t anything more I could say that would influence her. Both she and Conrad often remained stuck in their thinking, unwilling to step to the right or the left of a straight line. But I didn’t believe they had a clear understanding of everything. Sometimes a step to the left or the right could be a good thing—at least that’s what I wanted to believe. I could only hope Mina would think about the little girl and agree to help me. When we’d finished packing the baskets that would feed the workers from our kitchen, I glanced at her. “Should I speak to Sister Marguerite?”
She inhaled a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Ja, you can tell her, but you’d better be careful. If anything happens to you, I won’t be able to forgive myself.”
“Thank you, Mina.” I pulled her into a quick embrace. “You’re doing the right thing.”
“We will see,” she said.
I should have known that Mina’s agreement didn’t mean she would remain silent on our journey to the field. While we sat in the back of the wagon with women from the other kitchen houses, she whispered her stern warnings. On the return it was the same. We both jumped down from the wagon at the edge of town. I was glad when the other women decided to ride until they were closer to their own kitchen houses.
I nudged Mina toward our kitchen. “Go on. I’ll be fine. I should be back within an hour.”
“If you haven’t returned by two-thirty, I will go and fetch Conrad.”
Her warning was enough to send me running toward the grove at breakneck speed. I didn’t want Conrad or my father to know what I was doing. Neither would approve. When I drew closer to the grove, I slowed my pace. Better to go slow and be cautious. If I was to go undetected, I’d need to avoid any undergrowth that might crackle beneath my feet or low-hanging branches that could snag my clothes. I approached the spot where I’d hidden on my earlier visit and crouched beside the tree.
Peering through the brush, I kept a vigilant watch for Lalah, but she was nowhere in sight. The camp appeared deserted except for Alija, who was sitting near a fire stirring some sort of brew in a large iron cauldron. Despite the heat, I shivered. No telling what the old woman had concocted in that kettle.
“Please, Lalah. Where are you?” I whispered, hoping that somehow I could will the girl to make an appearance.
I could wait a little longer, but if she didn’t soon appear, I’d need to return. In all my planning, I hadn’t considered that I’d have difficulty locating her. Where had all of them gone? I hadn’t seen any sign of them when we traveled through town on our way to the fields, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be there now. I didn’t worry overmuch about the store. If there was any trouble, Vater would shoo all of them outside.
A southerly breeze caused smoke from Alija’s fire to drift toward me. I lifted a corner of my apron and pressed it to my nose and mouth. Though the cloth covering offered a little relief, my eyes watered, and I lifted my shoulder and swiped one eye and then the other. If I was going to gain any real relief, I’d need to change positions.
After watching the direction of the smoke, I decided upon a clump of trees and bushes that would provide shelter from Alija’s fire as well as hide me from view. Careful to keep low and avoid the brush and limbs, I crept into a spot near a large oak. A short time later, I heard Alija speaking to someone, and I trained my eyes on the cauldron. My view wasn’t as clear here as at my earlier hiding place, so I inched forward, hunkered down low, and craned my neck for a better look. My spirits plummeted when I saw it was another older wo
man talking to Alija.
I’d lifted an inch or two to scoot back into position beside the tree when an arm circled my waist and lifted me off the ground.
My scream was drowned out by a booming voice. “What are you doing?”
I twisted my neck and stared directly into dark angry eyes. Loyco! Fear seized me, and I squirmed to free myself, but he held fast. I felt like a chicken being carried to the chopping block. “Put me down.” I had intended an authoritative command, but my dry mouth and tight throat permitted no more than a strangled plea.
His harsh laughter filled me with a mounting sense of panic. I kicked and swung until he finally set me on my feet, but he didn’t release his tight hold around my arm. “Why are you hiding back here spying on us? What do you want?”
My bonnet had tipped sideways, and I used my free hand to set it aright while I attempted to gain my senses. “I don’t want anything.” I squared my shoulders in an effort to appear brave, but my body trembled beneath his grasp.
“If you did not want anything, you wouldn’t be here. Either you tell me now, or I will take you to Alija, and she will find a way to make you talk.”
I didn’t know if he was speaking the truth, but I didn’t want to go anywhere near Alija. She’d probably boil me in her cauldron. The woman frightened me even more than Loyco. “I wanted to speak with Lalah.”
“Lalah?” For a moment his grip weakened, and I attempted to pull free. But just as quickly, he grabbed hold with a vengeance, causing me to yelp in pain. “What do you want with my daughter?” His eyes flashed with anger or perhaps disbelief, I couldn’t be certain which.
“Please loosen your hold. I will tell you, but you are hurting me.”
He pushed me backward. “Stand against the tree and I will release you.” I did as he commanded and he let go. But with a hand on either side of the tree, he pinned me in place. The mustiness of his clothing and the smoky odor that clung to his hair assailed me. “I am waiting to hear what you have to say.”
I explained that I’d met Lalah when I’d been looking for my grandmother’s cap weeks earlier. “She doesn’t look like you.”
He tipped his head to the side and gazed into my eyes. “She is not supposed to look like me. She is a girl.”
“That’s not what I mean. Her hair is light in color, and her complexion is fair, like mine.”
“And?”
“And I wondered if she was truly your child, or if … if …”
He leaned closer. “If what?”
I hated that he was going to make me say the words, but it was too late to change the path I’d taken. “If she belongs to someone else.”
He dropped his arms to his sides and took a backward step. “You think she is stolen?”
“I didn’t say she was stolen, but if she is, I—”
“She is not stolen!” His words thundered through the grove, and Alija jumped to her feet. Loyco hollered for her to remain in the camp, and she dropped back onto the log where she’d been sitting. “You think because she is fair-skinned and because you hear stories of Gypsies stealing children that she is not my daughter?”
“She said she doesn’t remember her mother.” My defense was meager and timid, but if this girl was Cecile Lofton, she’d likely been threatened with her life if she told anyone the truth about what had happened. Either that or her memory had been wiped away by the tragic event she’d endured.
He ran his fingers through his long hair. “That’s because her mother died when she was a small child. Her mother wasn’t a Gypsy—she was as fair as you.”
I wasn’t certain whether I could believe him. Even more, I didn’t want to believe him. I wanted Lalah to be the Loftons’ little girl. “There was a couple who came to town for a visit. They told me of their daughter, who had been stolen by Gypsies.”
His jaw twitched while I continued my rambling story about the Loftons’ child. “So you come here to look at Lalah’s head. To see if she has this dark spot you are looking for, and you won’t be satisfied until you see for yourself. Is that what you are saying to me?”
“Ja,” I whispered. I should have told him I didn’t need to look at Lalah’s scalp, that I believed every word he’d told me. But I couldn’t—not until I saw for myself.
He shouted Lalah’s name, and the child poked her head out of a wagon not far from Alija. “Come to me.” She jumped down and raced to him, her hair flying in the breeze, a smile on her childish lips.
She came to a halt beside us. “Oma is here with you?” She peeked around the tree and glanced toward a clump of bushes. “She is hiding?”
“No. She is at the store today.”
Loyco pointed to Lalah. “Go ahead and look for yourself.”
I asked the girl’s permission to look at her hair. “I want to push it aside a little if you don’t mind too much.”
She shrugged. “You can look, but there are no bugs in there.”
I pushed her hair first one way and then the other. “I didn’t think there were, Lalah. I’m not looking for bugs, just a dark spot on your scalp.” My disappointment swelled when I’d completed my examination. “Thank you for letting me look. The next time you come into the store, you may select something special for yourself—a gift from me.”
Loyco sliced his arm through the air like a swinging sword. “No! She takes nothing from you. Go back to the camp, Lalah.” Confusion clouded the girl’s eyes before she bid me good-bye and scampered away like a frightened rabbit. A branch crackled beneath Loyco’s foot. “When we came to your store, I liked you very much. I thought you might be different from the rest, who are always so quick to judge us, but you’re not. My child will not be in your store, and I will not be there, either.” He leaned a little closer. “Go home and don’t come back here.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I ran until pain cut through my chest like a sharp knife and I could no longer draw enough air to continue. I doubled over a short distance later and gasped until air filled my lungs. After a glance over my shoulder to ensure I wasn’t being followed, I forced myself to slow down and inhale long, deep breaths while I offered a silent prayer of thanks for my safety.
CHAPTER 17
I’d almost given up hope of hearing from Mr. Finley when he reappeared like an unexpected cold breeze on a hot day. He bounded toward the front counter with a smile splitting his face. I noticed the sales case dangling from his hand, and my pleasure at seeing him dissipated. Apparently he wasn’t here to stay.
He slid the case onto the counter. “You are a sight for sore eyes, Miss Kohler.”
His intense stare caused me to glance away. Heat crept up my neck and spread across my face like hot flames. “Thank you. I am pleased to see you, as well.” I lifted my eyelids only far enough to gain a brief look at him. “I was beginning to think you had completely forgotten the Amana Colonies and your desire to move here.”
“Never. How could I forget one as lovely as you, Gretchen?”
He’d moved from addressing me as Miss Kohler to Gretchen in short order, but he’d not mentioned a word about returning here to live. Of course, he’d only just arrived. He’d hardly blurt everything he had to say immediately upon his return. “And how does your aunt fare?”
His forehead creased with wrinkles, but he soon regained his smile. “She’s doing some better. Thank you for asking.”
“What ailed her? You never said in your letter to my Vater.”
“Some sort of palsy, but my uncle never fully explained. Upon my return, she decided it would be better to have a woman come in to assist with her care. Still, I was needed to take charge of business matters.”
“And your uncle is now at home and can manage his own affairs?”
“Not entirely. That’s what I’ve come to explain to you—and your father. I do believe my ability to move to the colonies is going to be delayed yet again. Depending on my uncle’s schedule, I’ll be able to return from time to time. But until my aunt is much stronger and able to attend
to everything while Uncle Frederick is away, I’ll be needed in Chicago.” He snapped open his case and looked around the store. “I know your father is at the train depot, but is anyone else within earshot?”
“Oma is resting in her room, but there’s no one else in the store,” I said.
“Good. I’m eager to give you some good news.” He lifted a magazine from his case and flipped open the pages. He tapped his finger near the center of one page. “Look at this!”
I quickly scanned the first few lines before my jaw went slack. I couldn’t believe my eyes. “That’s my poem. And my name.” My voice cracked at the reality of seeing my words printed in the magazine. I traced my finger beneath the letters. My stomach roiled, and fear raced up my spine like a bolt of lightning. What if somebody saw this? I’d be relegated to children’s church for sure. The pure embarrassment of having the entire colony know that I’d performed a glaring misdeed—one that would demote me to the confines of children’s church—was enough to cause my toes to curl.
He chuckled “I know it’s your name. My friend suggested I submit it to a magazine for publication. He says you have a great deal of talent and it should be shared with others. And the editor of the magazine agreed.”
“But you didn’t ask my permission,” I hissed, fearful Oma might make an appearance.
He traced his fingers through his shock of unruly brown hair. “Here I thought you would be pleased. Instead, you’re acting as though I’ve committed some terrible crime.” He slapped the pages together and thrust the magazine into his case.
“Give that to me! I might not be pleased that you’ve had it published without my permission, but I want at least to read it.”
He reached into the case and removed the periodical. I didn’t miss his sly grin as he shoved it in my direction and pointed to my name beneath the poem. “Your name looks good in print, does it not?”
I clutched my apron in my hand. “Nein! You should not have put my name in the magazine. What if someone should see it? There would be no end of trouble explaining how I permitted this to happen.”
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