A Hidden Truth

by Judith Miller

  He appeared bewildered by my concern. “All is well.”

  His calm reply surprised me. How could nothing be wrong? The barn was closed and none of his work had been completed. He shuffled one foot, and I saw the corner of a tablet of paper that he’d been trying to push under the straw. I stepped around him, leaned down, and picked up the pad of paper, and handed it to him.

  “You’ve been sitting back here drawing while the sheep are wandering in this foul barn? And why is everything closed? They should be outdoors. My Vater and I have told you that the sheep doors and the vents should be open if they are inside. They become too warm without fresh air.”

  “And then they become sick. I know. You repeat your orders every day. I am tired of hearing the same things over and over.” He kicked the bottom slat of the enclosure. “It is too cold in here with the doors open.”

  I took a backward step, astonished by his bad behavior. I had expected an apology. Instead, he’d responded with anger. Remaining calm, I pointed to the closed doors leading into the side shelter that we used to release the sheep. Those doors were seldom closed. “If you would do what you’ve been told, I wouldn’t have to repeat the same instructions. And if you are cold, you should wear another sweater under your coat. It is not gut for the sheep to become overheated. You can take care of yourself, but they are helpless. You are their shepherd. They need your care, but instead you draw pictures and ignore their needs.”

  His face turned deep red, and the vein in the side of his neck pulsed. He shoved the tablet toward me and thrust his finger atop the drawing. “This is to help the sheep. It is a way to bring fresh water into the barn for them. Does that sound like someone who doesn’t care about them?” His jaw twitched.

  I stared at the drawing and recalled a Scripture I’d learned years ago. Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath: For the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God. I opened my mouth to quote the verses from the book of James, but something deep inside stopped me. To make an issue of his anger at this time would only make matters worse.

  “Having fresh water flow into the barn would be a gut thing, Anton, but maybe you should first make sure the sheep have clean straw and fresh air. After that you can work on your inventions.”

  His jaw relaxed and his eyes softened. “So you think this could work?”

  “You are the inventor. My Vater would be a better judge of whether it would work. You should show him the drawing and explain how you would plan such a system.” I gestured toward the other end of the barn. “Right now, we must get busy and clean the barn.”

  He didn’t argue, and for that I was pleased. Later I would mention his anger, but for now we would clean the barn. I sighed. There would be no time for ice skating today.

  CHAPTER 9

  I didn’t know who had been more disappointed regarding the skating incident, Berndt or Dovie. I had expressed my regret, but Anton did nothing more than mumble a quick one-word apology. Later he’d told me he believed his time was better used perfecting his invention than ice skating. In turn, I told him he should sometimes consider others. He nodded, but I wasn’t certain he’d taken my comment to heart. I hoped the joy of the Christmas season might soften his behavior.

  The days leading to Christmas were always busy in the colonies. Since only the bakery and the kitchen houses had ovens, the women took turns going to the bakery to bake their Christmas cookies. Each woman prepared her own dough in the kitchen house and took it to the bakery on her assigned date. On cookie-baking days, Berndt’s father, Brother Erich, would build the fire a little higher so that once the bread was done, there would be enough heat remaining for one or two women to complete their cookies.

  Each year Brother Erich prepared a list setting out the time and day for each woman to come and bake. Most of the time, the women were happy with the schedule, but occasionally there would be complaints. As with most things, there was always someone who felt slighted, someone who feared that another woman would receive fifteen extra minutes in the bakery. At such times Brother Erich became a diplomat of sorts, explaining that women with larger families required more time in the bakery. His cajoling usually worked, but when he had a problem he couldn’t solve, my mother would offer a little time for baking in our kitchen. Though it wasn’t the most convenient arrangement, Mutter somehow made it work. I was always happy when one of the neighbors baked in our kitchen, for it meant I would receive a few samples.

  Today we would mix the dough for our Christmas cookies. And though working in the kitchen was not something I wanted to do all of the time, baking Christmas cookies was more fun than work.

  “You need first to mix the sugar into the butter, Karlina. And then you can add the eggs—one by one. Don’t try to hurry and add them all at once. And make sure the sugar and butter are nice and creamy before you add the eggs.”

  I grinned at Dovie, who had taken her place beside me. Dipping a large measuring cup into the sugar, she filled the metal container and lifted it out. Using a table knife, she leveled the sugar and poured it into the bowl. “We will need to take turns stirring. My arm gets tired. And Mutter says the cookies are not gut unless the dough has been mixed properly.”

  “Ja, that is right. And you should remember that you are the one who is always wanting the butter cookies, Karlina.”

  I giggled. “I know, Mutter. They are my favorite.”

  “They are your favorite because you like to use the cookie cutters.” My mother’s flour handprints decorated the front of her long, dark apron.

  “We need to remember to take the cookie cutters to the bakery tomorrow.”

  My mother shook her head. “Nein. This year we will be baking here.”

  Her reply surprised me. We could complete our baking much more quickly at the bakery, and Mother hadn’t mentioned we wouldn’t be going there. In fact, I’d been teasing Dovie about seeing Berndt when we went to do our Christmas baking.

  I stopped stirring. “But why?”

  She pointed to the cookie batter. “Keep stirring.” Once the wooden spoon was moving again, she gave a pleased nod. “Because the bakery will be very busy, and I told Brother Erich I would be willing to bake here.”

  “Are the other Küchebaases baking in their Küches?”

  “I cannot say if they are or not. And what they are doing is not important to us as long as we are able to bake our cookies. If it frees time in the bakery, I am pleased to help.”

  “It will take longer to bake them here.”

  “And what do you have to do that is so important that you can’t take a little extra time to make cookies? Tomorrow we can put up the Christmas pyramid and the other decorations while we are baking the cookies. With three of us, we can keep a close watch so none of them burn.” She gave me one of her smiles that said she was pleased, but I didn’t understand why we’d be baking at home when our name had been on Brother Erich’s list for tomorrow afternoon.

  Once we were alone in the kitchen, I nudged Dovie and handed her the wooden spoon. “When Berndt brings the bread tomorrow, you should ask him who is taking our place baking cookies at the bakery.”

  “No. He will think that I am asking because I was hoping to spend time with him.”

  I added flour to the buttery mixture while Dovie stirred. “Well, weren’t you?”

  “Perhaps, but he doesn’t need to know.”

  “Then the next time I see him, I’ll tell him you had been hoping to see him at the bakery, but for some reason we were removed from the list.”

  Dovie lifted the spoon from the bowl and pointed it in my direction. “Don’t you do it, Karlina.” A glob of batter dropped from the spoon and plopped into the bowl.

  “Keep stirring, Dovie.” My mother entered the room and smiled as she pointed her finger at the bowl. “Your cookies are not going to turn out well if the dough isn’t mixed.”

  We worked at a feverish pace and had completed mixing several batches of dou
gh by the time the kitchen workers returned to begin supper. I made my escape to the sheep barn, though I felt a little guilty for leaving Dovie behind. After mixing all that cookie dough, I doubted she was excited to help with the supper preparations.

  The reason our family name was removed from the baking schedule was never discovered. At least not by me. Dovie said she never asked Berndt about the matter, and when I had a chance to inquire several days later, he denied any knowledge of the baking schedule. Since I could find no reason to doubt him, I decided I was making a mountain out of a molehill. There were more important things requiring my attention. Christmas would soon arrive and I hadn’t yet decided upon a gift for Dovie.

  I’d asked her a few questions about Christmas in Cincinnati, and she’d spoken of beautiful decorations in the city and commented that her family had continued to use a Christmas pyramid, but I wondered if our simple fare would disappoint her. We owned one of the prettiest Christmas pyramids in East. It was three tiers high with carved carolers on the first tier, farm animals on the second, and angels blowing their trumpets on the third. When lit, heat from the six candles surrounding the base of the pyramid would cause the propeller on top to turn. I thought there could be nothing as lovely as our pyramid. But Dovie lived in a big city where her father could have purchased something even better. Being without both of her parents during the holiday would be difficult, and I wanted to somehow make it special. But how? Then I remembered something else she’d told me, and I hurried upstairs to find my mother.

  I peeked in the parlor and into her bedroom, but when I heard a noise in Anton’s room, I hurried down the hall. “Here you are!”

  “Ja, changing the sheets. Where did you think I would be?”

  “Maybe in the kitchen.” I was much more familiar with schedules in the sheep barn and pastures than with my mother’s routine. “I was thinking about Christmas.”

  My mother glanced over her shoulder. “And I was thinking about all the laundry that must be carried out to the washhouse.”

  I chuckled. “I will carry the laundry to the washhouse, Mutter. But first I want to tell you about my Christmas idea.” While she finished the bed and tossed the sheets into the woven laundry basket, I hastily explained my plan.

  “I think it would be fine, but you must do it on your own. I will not have time to help. And hiding part of your secret is going to be difficult.”

  My mother was right. I hadn’t worked out all of the details. I lifted the basket and followed her downstairs. “What if I remain at home on Sunday morning and Dovie goes with you to meeting? That would give me time alone in the Küche.”

  My mother’s forehead creased into deep ridges as she considered my suggestion. “I don’t know, Karlina. Dovie will not be here much longer, and she has agreed to help in the kitchen on Sunday mornings. It will seem strange to her if I change the plan, don’t you think?”

  “Let me take care of convincing Dovie. She has already expressed interest, and I can tell her I want her to attend meeting one time before she must leave.”

  My mother signaled for me to go. “Hurry, now. I have much to do, and you should already be at the barn filling out the record books.”

  When Sunday arrived, I didn’t know who was more excited, Dovie or me. She had accepted my explanation with delight. Of course, neither of us truly knew when she might leave for Texas, so she didn’t want to miss an opportunity to visit at least one meeting. There had been only one letter from her father since his departure, and it hadn’t sounded as though he would send for her right away. Thus far he’d been unable to locate a home for them. He’d given her the address of the hotel where he’d rented a room, and she’d recently mailed him a letter and a Christmas card she’d purchased at the general store. So far there had been no Christmas greetings from him.

  If that bothered Dovie, she hadn’t revealed it to me. Still, I wanted to make Christmas special for her. The minute my parents, Dovie, and Anton departed for church, I set to work. This would be my only opportunity—I didn’t have time for failure.

  One of the two junior girls who helped on Sunday morning wrinkled her nose as they entered the kitchen. “Why are you here?” She stretched sideways and looked into the dining hall.

  “You won’t find Dovie in the other room, so you best get to work.” I signaled for both of them to begin their tasks. “Mutter left your instructions on the table.”

  “And what will you be doing while we’re busy preparing the meal?”

  “I’m going to be making special Christmas candy for Dovie, but you must promise not to tell.” Both of the girls giggled and covered their mouths. I rested my hands on my hips. “What is so funny?”

  Mary, the older of the two, shook her head. “N-n-nothing. We’ve just never seen you cook anything before.”

  “No need to worry. I’ll be working at this end of the Küche. The rest is yours.” I knew they would seize every opportunity to watch my techniques. Of course, we all knew I had none. “And don’t mention this to anyone. It is to be a surprise.”

  Mary nodded. “I’m sure it will be.” She remained at her table but eyed me as I gathered my ingredients. “What kind of candy are you making, Sister Karlina?”

  “Marzipankartoffeln. Have you made them before?”

  Both girls nodded their heads. “Ja. Making the marzipan potatoes is easy. But I hope you have already shelled the almonds. Shelling and chopping the almonds will take more time than you have this morning.”

  My mother had already warned me about shelling the almonds, and I went to the general store after she gave me permission to make the candy. I used some of my time in the barn to shell the nuts. After telling Anton of my surprise for Dovie, he helped with the project, and when we had finished, I helped him clean the barn. I was certain he had come out ahead on that exchange.

  I didn’t tell anyone, but I had used the coffee grinder to chop the nuts. I’d been careful to wipe away any remnants from the device when I finished last night. One of the men told Mother that the coffee had tasted extra good this morning. I held my breath and waited. But when she merely thanked him, I was certain she hadn’t noticed anything was amiss.

  “Do you think I have enough?” I held out the bag of chopped nuts. I’d begun with a large bag, but once they were chopped, it didn’t seem like much.

  Both girls stepped closer and looked into the sack. Antje shook her head. “You won’t make much candy with that.”

  Mary agreed and pointed to a wood bowl and pestle. “You need to make the nuts finer. They are chopped, but for the marzipan, they need to be ground like flour.” She grinned at me. “You should be thankful you have nothing to cook, or you would never finish.”

  I could see they were taking great delight in my lack of ability, but I was determined to make the best candy possible. Besides, I didn’t need much. This was a gift for Dovie, not the entire village. My hand and arm ached by the time Antje and Mary declared the nuts fine enough for mixing with the sugar, flavoring, and egg white.

  “Be careful you don’t add too much liquid at once, Karlina. You don’t have enough almonds to thicken the paste.”

  As the time passed, the girls took pity on me and I was thankful for their help. Both of them checked the mixture and declared it a good consistency to form the Marzipan into the shape of small potatoes. While I rolled them, Mary drew near and gave a nod of approval. “They look gut. You have the cocoa and cinnamon mixed so you can coat them?”

  “Nein. I will do that once I’ve finished rolling them.”

  She reached for the metal container of cocoa. “I will mix it for you. The candy needs a little time to dry before everyone returns to the kitchen.”

  I thanked her, and while I finished rolling the mixture into oblong potato shapes, she pushed them around in the cocoa mixture until they were covered. “You need to dust some of the cocoa off so they look like real potatoes.”

  Once I had finished rolling the shapes, I followed Mary’s example, and when
I was done, my candy looked as good as any I’d ever eaten. I admired them with more than a little pride and then looked at the two girls. “They are gut, ja?”

  “To taste tells the real truth,” Mary said. She eyed the candy and then traced her finger above each one as she counted.

  “We wouldn’t want Dovie to get sick from eating too many,” Antje said, drawing closer. “I think we should taste them and see if they are gut enough to give as a present.”

  A nod of my head was all they needed before each one bit into a piece. “It is perfect,” Mary declared.

  “It is.” The surprise in Antje’s voice affirmed that they were telling the truth.

  A warmth of satisfaction washed over me. Soon I’d be ready for Christmas.

  CHAPTER 10

  Christmas Eve

  Dovie

  When supper had been eaten, the dishes washed, and all of the women departed for the day, Cousin Louise and Cousin George instructed Karlina, Anton, and me to go to our rooms.

  “I’ll tell you when you may come out,” Cousin Louise said. “And no peeking, Karlina.”

  While Karlina and I went into our bedroom, Anton went off by himself. “I do feel sorry for him. It doesn’t seem right that he can’t be with his family for Christmas.” I knew my opinion didn’t matter to anyone. I was an outsider and didn’t understand many of the decisions made by the elders. But I did know that even being surrounded by another family wasn’t the same as being with one’s own, and Anton and I had that in common this Christmas. I swallowed hard as memories of past Christmases pushed to the forefront of my mind.