More Than Words

by Judith Miller

  She sat down on the edge of the bed and held out her foot for me to remove her right shoe. She inched her heel back and forth until the leather stretched, and after a slight tug, her foot came free. One toe peeked through a hole in her black stocking. “We need to mend that, Oma.”

  “Ja, or it will grow bigger and bigger until all of my toes are sticking out at you.” She cackled and wiggled the free toe up and down. “Could be smelly, too.” She clipped her nose between her index finger and thumb and grinned while I removed the other shoe. “No holes in this one.”

  I shook my head and looked into her eyes. I thought I saw a glimmer of recognition. Maybe she was returning to her right mind. “When did you put your shoes on, Oma? I thought you went to bed a long time ago.”

  She frowned and a grayish-white eyebrow drooped over each eye. “When I got out of bed this morning, that’s when I put them on, you silly girl. Why do you ask questions about my shoes? You can’t have them. They’re mine.”

  I silently admonished myself. She still wasn’t herself, and now I’d given her cause to become upset once again. “I know they are your shoes. Besides, your shoes are far too small for my big feet. See?” I held up my foot, and she leaned forward to examine the length.

  “My Emil likes women with small feet.” With a glassy-eyed look, she stared into the distance. “Emil was with me down near the sawmill. He built a fire so we could make coffee, but I couldn’t find my coffee.” Her head jerked, and she glared at me. “You hid my coffee, didn’t you? You want to make coffee for Emil so he’ll love you.”

  “I didn’t take your coffee, and I haven’t been out of the house all night. Did you and Emil start a big fire or just a small one?”

  The corners of her lips took a downward turn as she studied me. “It was a little fire.”

  I twisted the corner of the shawl I’d wrapped over my nightgown. Should I dare to hope what she said was true? At this particular moment I doubted Oma knew the truth from a falsehood. To her, truth was whatever came to her head at the moment. And right now her head was filled with nothing but thoughts of my grandfather.

  I helped her out of her dress and picked up the nightgown she’d neatly folded and placed on top of her pillow. How had she managed to get dressed and leave the house without any of us hearing her? I’d never know the answer to that question, either. She shoved her arms into the nightgown and then twisted toward me.

  “The fire got bigger and bigger. I told Emil I didn’t need that much fire to make coffee.” She grinned like a schoolgirl. “I think he was trying to show off for me. I told him I never saw such a big fire for coffee making.” She dropped to the side of the bed. “The fire was going in all directions, and I was afraid. I called for Emil, but he disappeared.” Propping herself with one elbow, she leaned back and rested her head on the pillow. “Why does he always do that to me?”

  “Do what, Oma?”

  “Why does he always disappear? I want him here with me. He comes for a little while, and then he disappears. It’s not right.” She balled her hand into a fist and raised it toward heaven. “I told him he had to quit leaving me like this, but he never listens.” She turned her back and whimpered into the pillow.

  While I whispered verses from the Psalms, I rubbed her shoulders. A short time later I heard her soft snores and tiptoed from the room. Sitting down in the parlor, I considered what Oma had told me and now feared the report I would hear when my father and Stefan returned.

  If Oma had started the fire, I worried my father would insist she go to Mount Pleasant. Even the promise of the Älterschule wouldn’t change his mind. After all, even if there had been an Älterschule, this would have happened. I dropped to my knees and prayed she wasn’t responsible. I hoped God would send an answer, for I didn’t want to condemn Oma until I was certain of the truth. Even then, I didn’t know if I could step forward and place blame on her.

  I don’t know how long I prayed, but I was on the sofa in the parlor when my father and Stefan finally returned. My father called to me from the doorway, and I awakened with a start. “The fire is out?”

  “Ja. Could you bring me some soap and towels? Stefan and I will go to the washhouse and clean up. I don’t want to track soot into the house.”

  I gathered up the towels and carried them to my father. “Is there much damage?”

  “The sawmill.” He shook his head. “A lot of lumber we lost in that fire.”

  For once, Stefan appeared eager for the towel and soap I handed to him. He scurried toward the washhouse. My father looked toward the eastern sky. “Sun will be up soon. No time for sleep.” He took the towel and then turned and pulled a bright scarf from his pocket. “I found this in the wooded area beyond the sawmill. I’m thinking those Gypsies may be responsible.” He thrust the piece of cloth at me before turning and heading to the rear of the house.

  His footsteps echoed in my ears like a pounding drum. I held the piece of fabric at arm’s length and stared at the array of colors. Zurca’s scarf? The colors winked at me in the breaking light. Did Oma have the scarf with her when she went wandering out of the house last night? Could she have returned it to Lalah or one of the other Gypsies? I didn’t want to believe they’d been involved in the fire. Why, after all this time, would they do such a thing? It made no sense.

  With halting steps I approached my room. My thoughts swirled in a thousand directions as I tossed the scarf onto the bed and donned my dark calico. I sat down and traced my fingers along the rainbow of colors in the scarf. Once again I prayed. This time I prayed not only for Oma but for Zurca and Loyco and all of the Gypsies. I shoved the scarf into my pocket. Perhaps Father would forget about the scarf and the Gypsies. Maybe if I could speak to Lalah …

  CHAPTER 25

  Oma was in good spirits when she awakened, and if she had any remembrance of leaving the house the night before, it wasn’t immediately obvious. She wandered into the parlor and pointed to the sleeve of her dress. “Smells like smoke.” As if to prove what she’d said, she raised the sleeve to her nose and inhaled before curling her lip. “Stinks.”

  “Ja, and no wonder. I am sure everything in the village stinks like smoke. I am surprised you didn’t hear the fire bells last night.” My father’s eyes shone with concern, or perhaps disbelief. “Is gut you were able to sleep through all of the turmoil. We lost the sawmill in last night’s fire.”

  She shook her head, then turned to me. “Ach! This can’t be true. Never in my life have I slept through any of the bells. Your Vater is trying to be funny, ja?”

  “He’s speaking the truth, Oma.” I forced a smile. “Maybe we need to have the doctor take a look into your ears.” Instead of dwelling on the fire, I reminded her that she’d had the doctor wash out her ears several years earlier.

  “But I can hear every word you are saying to me, so makes no sense that I have a problem with my hearing.”

  When she was in her right mind, Oma was as sharp as a razor, and it was clear I’d not win this argument. “You’re right, Oma. I guess you must have been in a very sound sleep. There doesn’t seem to be any other answer.” I squeezed her arm. “How are you feeling today? Are you tired?”

  She looked at me as though I’d taken leave of my senses. “How could I be tired? I slept like a baby all night long—you told me so just a minute ago, ja?”

  I grinned. That’s exactly what I’d led her to believe. “I’m the one who is tired, Oma. I can’t even remember from one minute to the next.” I hoped my flimsy reply would be enough to satisfy her.

  The breakfast bell hadn’t yet rung, but lines had already begun to form outside the Küche. Like my father and brother, the other men had gone home and cleaned up without taking time to sleep. Chatter about the fire abounded, and so did talk of how it started. I heard the mention of Gypsies several times. Surely no one would jump to conclusions and assume the Gypsies were at fault. We’d had many fires through the years, and Gypsies hadn’t been present when we’d suffered those losses. I hop
ed there would be opportunity for me to say that, but maybe such a comment would be better received from one of the men.

  When we departed the dining room after breakfast, I motioned to Conrad. Holding his straw hat in one hand, he jogged toward me. Oma was chatting with one of the other women, and my father had already left for the store. “I heard talk about the Gypsies setting the fire,” I told him. “You don’t think they will be blamed, do you?” Conrad shaded his face with one hand, and I pointed toward his hat.

  He grinned and shoved the hat onto his head. “Why didn’t I think of that on my own?” Stepping closer, he grasped my hand and gave it a squeeze. “That is why I need you around. You know what I need before I do.”

  A rush of heat rose up my neck and spread across my cheeks. His tender words warmed my heart. This was a man I could trust with anything, even my heart. “You should not show affection in public. Someone will see.” Though I longed to feel his touch awhile longer, I reluctantly pulled my hand from his.

  “Maybe I should go to the Grossebruderrat and ask permission to marry you. Then we would not need to be concerned what others were thinking.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  Streaks of sunlight danced across his white shirt. He pushed his hat to the back of his head, his eyes as big as china saucers. “Did I hear you right? You agree I should ask for permission to marry? Is that why you motioned for me to come over?”

  I peeked out from beneath the brim of my bonnet. “It was your kind words just now that convinced me, Conrad. I really wanted to ask about blame being placed on the Gypsies.”

  “Then I have the Gypsies to thank for your change of heart, ja?”

  “I didn’t have a change of heart. You know my feelings for you have always run deep, but when you first talked of marriage, I thought we shouldn’t move too fast.” I glanced toward the departing women and observed several looks of disapproval. “When you have some time, you should come to the store, and we will talk. Right now, I think we should separate before both of us are called before the elders.”

  He straightened his hat and glanced over his shoulder. “I think Sister Marie is going to confront us. She’s headed this way, and the look on her face is sour enough to curdle milk.”

  I chuckled at his remark. “You go on. I’ll talk to her.”

  He nodded but instead of turning toward the barbershop, he strode toward Sister Marie. From where I stood, I couldn’t hear their exchange, but his remarks were enough to send Sister Marie bustling in a different direction. From the set of her shoulders, I wondered if he’d angered her. If that was the case, I was sure it wouldn’t take long before word reached me.

  Oma waved to one of the sisters before joining me. “Your Vater is probably thinking we are never going to return to help him with the work at the store.”

  “This isn’t a busy day. No shipments are due. I don’t think we’ll be missed too much.”

  “Ach! He has convinced you he doesn’t need our help, but I know better. He couldn’t run that store without us.”

  I didn’t argue. I knew my father needed help with the books, and there was no doubt Oma and I provided capable hands to stock shelves and wait on customers, but I didn’t fancy myself irreplaceable. In fact, I hoped one day I would be replaced so that I could return to the kitchen.

  My father was sitting at the counter going over the ledgers. Sometimes I wondered why he assigned the job to me. He was always checking the figures and asking me questions about this account or that figure. Had he done them himself, it would have saved time and prevented many of my headaches.

  “Did you miss us, George?” Oma removed her sunbonnet and hung it on one of the hooks near the door leading to the parlor. Touching her fingers to her hair, she straightened her black cap.

  My father grunted and motioned me to the counter. “I don’t understand why you didn’t deduct the coffee and yarn from Brother Heinrich’s account.”

  I bit back my words. I didn’t want to say something I’d later regret. My father tapped his pen on the counter while I traced my finger along the line. “I did deduct it. You were looking at the wrong line.” I held my finger in place while he bent forward until his nose almost touched the page. “Maybe Brother William is correct. Maybe you do need eyeglasses.”

  “We are not talking about eyeglasses. We are talking about Brother Heinrich’s account.” He squinted and took a second look at the page. “Ja, now I see what you are saying, but you don’t need to be writing the numbers so small.”

  I sighed. “If I write any bigger, the numbers will not fit in the space, and it will be sloppy. Then you will complain you cannot read because it is messy. I think you should consider using spectacles when you are looking at the ledgers.”

  “Well, maybe I will try a pair when I am reading the catalogs or checking the ledgers.” His gaze drifted toward the front door. “Conrad. What can I help you with?”

  Lifting his straw hat from his head, he crossed the threshold and flashed a warm smile in my direction. “I was hoping I could visit with Gretchen for a short time.” He glanced around the store. “If it is better, I can wait until later.”

  “Nein. Today is not so busy. Maybe when the afternoon train arrives, she will need to be here, but now is gut.” My father wiggled his index finger, and Conrad stepped closer. “Maybe you should sit out back. Would not be proper for the two of you to be alone.”

  “Ja. The backyard is gut. Thank you, Brother George.”

  I was relieved to be away from my father’s questions regarding the ledgers. Perhaps he would tire of going through them while I was outdoors. Directing me toward the far side of the yard, Conrad grasped my hand as I settled on a soft patch of grass beneath the apple tree.

  He dropped to my side, his smile as warm as the summer day. “Now tell me, what is all this worry about the Gypsies?”

  The sweet scent of lush grass lifted on the breeze as I tried to gather my unorganized thoughts. How much should I trust Conrad? Should I only explain my concern that the Gypsies were being unfairly accused? Should I tell him I was certain Oma had been somehow involved in the fire? Should I ask his advice about going to talk to Lalah? I’d been mulling these questions in my mind since we’d parted ways a short time ago. After hearing and seeing a reflection of his love and concern, I’d received my answer. If I planned to marry Conrad, I must be honest and forthright with him. If I expected those qualities from my husband, I must offer no less.

  He listened without interruption while I expressed my concern for the Gypsies and explained my fears regarding Oma’s possible connection to the fire.

  “I understand you don’t want the wrong people blamed for something they didn’t do. That would not be gut. I also see the fear in your eyes when you speak about Oma. You worry your Vater will decide it is time for her to go to Mount Pleasant, ja?”

  An unexpected tear escaped and trickled down my cheek. Gently, Conrad wiped it away with his thumb. “No need for the tears. We will find an answer.”

  “What if I go and talk to Lalah? She trusts me.” I told him about her visit to the store and her request to remain if the band of Gypsies decided to leave before Loyco’s return.

  “It would be better if I went with you.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think she would trust having you there. Besides, how could we go there without someone seeing us? There would be talk that we were together without an escort.”

  “Ja, that is true.” He plucked a thick blade of grass from the ground and tucked it into the corner of his lips.

  “I could have Stefan go to the camp and ask Lalah to meet me near the edge of the woods. That would be safe enough, don’t you think?”

  He withdrew the piece of grass and folded it between his fingers. “For sure it would be safer than for you to go by yourself, but I thought you forbade Stefan to go there again.”

  That thought hadn’t entered my mind. I didn’t want to tell Stefan about Oma. I knew he wouldn’t intentionally jeopardi
ze Oma, but sometimes he spoke without thinking. “I’ll tell him it’s a matter that must be kept secret. If I tell him a secret is involved, he’ll think it’s a special adventure.”

  “Once you have met with Lalah and learn whether your grandmother has been back to the Gypsy camp, we can talk again and decide what we must tell your Vater and the elders. Try not to worry.” He pushed to his feet and extended his hand to me. “You are light as a feather.” He pulled me close, and I felt the rise and fall of his muscular chest against my own.

  I should have pushed away. Instead, I leaned against him, enjoying the strength of his arms around me. I looked up, and he lowered his lips to mine in a sweet, tender kiss.

  “I love you, Gretchen, and I will be the happiest man alive when you are my wife.”

  Tipping my head back, I looked into his hooded eyes. “And I love you, Conrad. I think I always have.”

  He lowered his head and captured my lips in an ardent kiss. My heart pounded like a hammer on iron. I was sure he could hear the jolting thuds as he pulled me closer.

  “I will ask your Vater if I can request a special meeting with the Grossebruderrat. I don’t want to wait until they return next month.”

  “A perfect idea,” I whispered. The scent of the tiger lilies and horned violets blooming in Oma’s small flower garden perfumed the air as we returned inside.

  Oma waited until Conrad stepped to the front of the store to speak with my father before she grasped my hand and frowned. “Kissing is not allowed. You and Conrad are breaking the rules.”