A Hidden Truth

by Judith Miller

  Both Jakub and Sophia appeared hurt by my refusal, and though I tried to explain, I wasn’t sure either of them completely understood. Jakub had thought his solution quite perfect. “You need to tell Shepherd Richter you come visit the Sedlacek farm. He knows me. It will be fine.”

  When I explained that Cousin George would never approve such an idea, Jakub had appeared confused. “You are not Amana girl. Should not be a problem.”

  Our discussion went round and round until I finally called a halt to the idea and explained that I was a guest of the Amana people and must follow their rules. Jakub didn’t argue further, but when we parted, he grinned. “I think one day you will change your mind.”

  I merely waved and continued toward home. With Karlina busy helping with the sheep, logging all the records on the feed and care of the animals, and helping Anton with his invention, my afternoons had become increasingly lonely, but to take such a risk would be far too foolish.

  This morning I walked into the kitchen with less than an enthusiastic heart, for I knew my afternoon would be spent alone again. Cousin Louise considered me a visitor. As such, she had decided I should not work as many hours as the other women. I appreciated her thoughtfulness, but being alone with nothing to do wasn’t what I wanted or needed. During some of my afternoons, I wrote to my father, but I had heard nothing from him since Christmas.

  I decided he must be traveling, too busy, or too tired to write to me. When I checked the mail each morning, my emotions would shift like the wind. I wanted to receive a letter, but I didn’t want my father to send for me—not yet.

  “Good morning, Cousin Louise.” The sound of the bread wagon’s bell jingled, and I continued toward the door.

  “Guten Morgen, Dovie.” She poured water into the large coffee boiler as she greeted me. “Thank you for filling the bucket.” She pointed to the metal pail. Of late, I’d been going out to fill a bucket of water in the morning so there was no delay in starting the coffee.

  I didn’t bother buttoning my coat. I wouldn’t be outdoors for long. My visits with Berndt had become increasingly shorter due to Sister Fuch’s complaints if he arrived even a few minutes later than expected.

  He jumped down from the wagon and rubbed his hands together. He smiled as I walked toward him. “I think it is a gut day for ice skating, don’t you?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t think today is much different from yesterday or last week.”

  He stepped closer. “But I can go with you today. We have finished cutting timber, so once I finish the deliveries, my afternoons are my own.”

  Excitement pumped through my veins. Unable to withhold my enthusiasm, I clapped my hands together. “I have been so lonely during the afternoons. Your news cheers me more than you know.”

  We walked to the rear of the wagon, and he withdrew the large tray of bread. “I think it would be better if we would meet outside of town, and then we can walk together. Two o’clock?”

  “Two o’clock is good. I’ll be there.” I didn’t ask why we would meet outside of town. I already knew. There would be disapproval if we were seen together. And if someone saw us, they might curtail our afternoon of fun. I didn’t want to risk that possibility, and I was pleased Berndt felt the same.

  Throughout the morning, my excitement mounted. When I returned to the kitchen to fill the bowls with cottage cheese during the noonday meal, Cousin Louise touched my arm. “You need to quit rushing, Dovie. All morning you have been scurrying around the kitchen like a barn cat chasing a mouse.”

  “I am sorry, Cousin Louise. I’ll slow down.” I refilled the bowls and waited while she cleaned the edge of each dish.

  “Would you like to come with me today? We will be quilting at Sister Fuch’s this afternoon.” She handed me one of the bowls. “It will give you an opportunity to see how your mother quilted with us when she was a young woman.”

  My stomach lurched. “Today?”

  “Ja. After we have cleaned the kitchen, we will go.” She nodded toward the dining room. “I would ask Karlina, but she would only say no. I am guessing she has already told you she isn’t fond of sewing.” Cousin Louise smiled. “Sometimes I don’t think she is fond of people, either. Only the sheep.” She stepped around me with the other bowl of cottage cheese. “Come. We need to take these to the tables.”

  She had assumed I’d be delighted to go with her. And most days I would have. “Why today?” I whispered as I returned to the dining room. Unfortunately, my whisper hadn’t been quiet enough, for Sister Bertha held her index finger to her lips and shushed me before I’d even had a chance to set the bowl in front of her.

  I turned my head to keep from scowling at her. The woman had no patience, but today I couldn’t worry over Sister Bertha and her desire for total silence. I needed to think what I was going to do. Most days we finished cleaning in the kitchen by one o’clock. That meant we would depart for the Fuchs’ kitchen house before I was scheduled to meet Berndt. There was no way I could send word to him. What would he think if I didn’t show up? But what would Cousin Louise think if I declined her invitation?

  Some of these women had known my mother. They could tell me about her. I wanted to meet them and hear what they would tell me. Besides, after all the questions I’d asked Cousin Louise, I simply couldn’t refuse to go with her. I stood and bowed my head while the others offered the after-dinner prayer, my thoughts on Berndt rather than supplications to the Lord.

  I startled when Cousin Louise touched my arm. “Do you have a sewing kit, Dovie?”

  “Yes. It belonged to my mother.”

  “Gut. Why don’t you go upstairs and get it. You can bring it with you and help with the quilting. I am sure your mother taught you, ja?”

  I smiled. “Yes. I have an Amana-style quilt that we made together. It is with the belongings we shipped to Texas.”

  She appeared pleased. I wasn’t sure if she was happy that I knew how to quilt or that Mother had taught me something of her Amana heritage. I hurried upstairs to find the sewing kit. I’d unpacked my belongings, and the few things I didn’t often need had been placed in a bottom drawer of Karlina’s wardrobe.

  Kneeling on the multicolored wool carpet that covered the wood floor, I opened the drawer and dug to the bottom. In the midst of my excavation, a thought flashed through my mind, and I rocked back on my heels in a prayer-like posture. Karlina! She could leave the barn and go meet Berndt. There were many excuses she could use. I doubted either Anton or her father would question her, but Karlina was clever—she would think of something if need be.

  After pushing aside my silver dresser set, which appeared out of place in these stark surroundings, my fingers grazed the sewing kit. My hand trembled as I pulled it from the drawer. I needed to hurry downstairs and speak to Karlina. One hard shove and the drawer closed. I flew out the door and down the steps.

  “Dovie. Again you are racing around like a hungry barn cat. There is no need to run.”

  I bobbed my head. “I’m sorry, Cousin Louise.” I scanned the room, my heart thrumming in my chest. “Where is Karlina? The kitchen?”

  “Nein. She has already gone to the barn. She said two of the sheep are not well and she needed to get back and check on them.”

  Cousin Louise turned toward the kitchen with a towering stack of dishes balanced in her arms. “That Karlina worries over the sheep more than most parents worry over their children.”

  For a moment I was certain my heart would quit beating. How could this happen? I’d been so sure I’d come up with a plan that would work. I continued to glance around the dining room. There were still lots of people in the hall. Maybe Cousin Louise was wrong. Maybe Karlina hadn’t yet left. When I didn’t see her, I looked toward the men’s tables.

  I didn’t want to ask Anton, but I would. Or at least I’d ask him to tell Karlina of my plight. Surely she would go and talk to Berndt once she’d heard my problem. But Anton was nowhere to be seen, either. No doubt he’d left with Cousin George an
d Karlina. I dropped to one of the wood benches and covered my face.

  “You are sick?”

  I looked up and was met by Sister Bertha’s probing eyes. “I am fine.” I forced a feeble smile and stood. The old sister looked at me as if she didn’t believe me.

  “If you are fine you would not sit holding your head.” She mimicked my earlier position. “But if you say you are fine, I will not argue.” She scuttled off, muttering something about young people, but I didn’t listen. I was too worried what Berndt was going to think.

  I tucked my chin against the cold wind as Cousin Louise and I walked to the Fuchs’ kitchen. “The sun fooled me. I thought it would be warmer this afternoon.” She drew her cloak tighter around her body. “I am glad we don’t have far to go. And you should be glad you did not go ice skating this afternoon.”

  I snapped my head in her direction. I hadn’t said anything about going ice skating. Had she simply guessed that I had plans to go, or had she overheard me talking to Berndt? Was that why I’d been invited to go with her today?

  My curiosity got the best of me. “How did you know I was going skating?”

  “I did not know. It was no more than a comment.” Cousin Louise stared at me for a moment. “Did you plan to go skating? You should have told me.” She shivered. “No. It is too cold to skate. It is much better you will be quilting with me.”

  She was probably right. It was colder than I’d thought, as well. Still, it didn’t change the fact that Berndt would soon be standing in the frigid wind waiting for me. I hoped he wouldn’t wait for long. After all these weeks, I would learn more about my mother, yet I couldn’t fully take pleasure in the occasion.

  “Here we are.” Cousin Louise guided me toward the steps of the kitchen house. Like the Richter kitchen house, the Fuchs’ house was larger than the others in the neighborhood. The two houses were similar, except the room Cousin Louise used for the mail and medical supplies had been set up as a quilting room in the Fuchs’ kitchen house. In addition, the quilting room was larger. I soon discovered every bit of the additional space was needed to accommodate the women who arrived and gathered around the quilting frame.

  When the other ladies opened their sewing kits and removed their needles, I did the same. An older woman, her face lined with wrinkles, carefully threaded her needle. “I am Sister Ann. Sister Louise tells me you are Barbara Lange’s daughter.”

  All eyes turned in my direction. “That’s right. Did you know her?”

  “Ja. She lived in East. If you live in East, you know everyone who lives here.” She chuckled and gestured to Cousin Louise. “Did you not tell her we are the smallest of the villages?”

  Cousin Louise poked her needle into the fabric. “She knows we are the smallest.”

  “And the best,” Sister Ann said. “But I do not think Sister Louise would tell you that.” Several other women joined her raspy laughter.

  “It is not gut to compare ourselves with others, so I did not tell her East is the best village.” She peeked from beneath hooded eyes. “Even if it is the truth.”

  The room filled with laughter. Sister Ann giggled until tears rolled down her wrinkled cheeks. I laughed, too. Not because I understood their joke, but because it was impossible to remain straight-faced when surrounded by such mirth.

  Sister Ann was considerably older than the other women, so I doubted she had been a close friend of my mother. But when the room quieted a little, I drew closer to her. “Were you one of my mother’s schoolteachers, Sister Ann?”

  She tucked her handkerchief into the pocket of her apron. Several of the other women chuckled. “Nein. The schoolteachers in our villages are men. Only when they are little and in Kinderschule do women care for the children—while their Mutters are working in the gardens or kitchen houses.” She held her needle in the air. “And sometimes the Omas help teach them to knit and crochet. It’s gut for everyone to be busy. And the little ones like learning from the Omas.”

  “Because they spoil them,” one of the women retorted.

  “Nein, because they are patient when they teach,” another put in.

  I leaned toward Sister Ann. “So you cared for my mother when she was a little girl? In the Kinderschule or teaching her to knit, maybe?”

  “Nein. I was only telling you I could not have been her schoolteacher, and I did not work in the Kinderschule.” She gave me a pointed look. “And when your Mutter was a little girl, I was too young to be an Oma.”

  Seeing the deep lines that furrowed her face and her blue-veined hands, I wasn’t certain that final comment was completely correct.

  She glanced up from the line of fine stitches she’d completed. “Before your Mutter worked in the Richter kitchen house, she worked in the gardens, and that is where we became acquainted. I was the Gartebaas.” She nodded toward Cousin Louise. “Like Sister Louise is the Küchebaas. You understand?”

  I nodded. “You were in charge of one of the big gardens.”

  “Ja. And your Mutter came to work for me when she was maybe fourteen.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I can’t remember for sure how old she was, but it was after she finished her schooling. Then she came and worked in the garden for me.” Her brow furrowed as if she was trying to recall those long-ago days. “Sister Barbara was a gut worker. She liked to be in the garden, but later she went to work for Sister Ruth in the Küchehaas.” She pointed her needle toward Cousin Louise. “Sister Louise’s Mutter.”

  Cousin Louise chuckled. “And you never forgave her, because Barbara was such a gut worker. It still makes you unhappy to think about it.”

  “Ja, well, I had no say in the matter. The gut workers get shifted around, and the lazy ones stay with me forever.”

  “You are still the Gartebaas?”

  She frowned and shot me a challenging look. “You think I am too old to work in the garden?”

  “N-no.” I shook my head so hard I wondered if my brain might rattle.

  Her eyes softened. “That is gut, because I can work longer hours than most of these younger ones.” She grinned and smoothed her palm across the pale blue fabric.

  It was clear I’d struck a tender nerve with Sister Ann. I didn’t want to repeat that error. “It’s nice to hear my mother was a good worker. Thank you for telling me.”

  “Just like these other sisters, Barbara liked the onion harvest when she was here.”

  Several of the women chimed their agreement. “Onion harvest is still a fun time,” Cousin Louise said. She gave me a sidelong glance. “For two or three weeks in the summertime, almost everyone helps with the onion harvest. Wagonloads of onions are brought to the village, and we spread them out for trimming and sorting.”

  While she continued to stitch, Cousin Louise explained the process. And though it didn’t sound like fun to me, I could see the women’s excitement swell as she told how they gathered in groups of twenty or more to complete the task. I didn’t understand their enthusiasm, but if I stayed long enough, perhaps I could experience the onion harvest for myself. Then I might understand their excitement.

  “For me, it is the best time of year,” Sister Ann said.

  One of the other women laughed. “That is because you get to boss everyone. Not just the garden workers.”

  Sister Ann readily agreed. “Ja, and I am gut at being the baas. I have the most experience, so it is a gut job for me.” She gestured toward me. “You should not just sit there. Let us see how well you can stitch.”

  I had threaded my needle, but I feared I might not meet the standards of these women. When I hesitated, Cousin Louise nudged my arm. “Go on. Your stitches cannot be any worse than some we have seen in the past.”

  Unlike the pieced quilts used by others, Amana quilt tops were one piece of fabric, usually a soft pastel shade. A pattern was traced onto the fabric before a layer of wool and another plain piece of fabric were stacked underneath. The three layers were then mounted onto the quilting frame and stitched together following the pattern lines. I poked
my needle into the fabric, and as I made my first stitches, I could sense the women looking in my direction and examining my handiwork.

  When no one shouted for me to stop, I continued sewing. For a moment I wondered if the layer of wool between the quilted fabric came from the sheep in Brother George’s barn. Even though it was doubtful, I liked the idea. There were not enough sheep in the colonies to supply all of the wool needed in the woolen mill, so much of the wool was purchased from outsiders—that is what Karlina had told me.

  The woman who had introduced herself as Sister Margaret said, “You quilt as well as your mother. We were friends many years ago when I worked in the Richter Küchehaas.”

  When I asked what she recalled the most about my mother, Sister Margaret thought for a moment. “She loved spice cake, and she would always ask Sister Ruth for any leftovers to take home with her.”

  The comment tugged at my heart. For as long as I could remember, my mother had baked a spice cake at least once a month. “What about the rest of you? Can you tell me any stories about my mother? Or other things she enjoyed?”

  “Oh, I remember that she got in big trouble one time when we were in school,” Sister Elsa remarked. “Your Mutter loved to read, and she wanted something different than the same history book all the time. We used the history book for history, reading, and for any other class Brother Erich could think of. Your Mutter thought that if he could not find the history books, we would get some new ones.”

  I was enjoying this story, for I had never thought of my mother as brave enough to do anything against the rules.

  “She hid them.” Sister Elsa looked down at the quilt and pulled her threaded needle through the fabric. “Actually we both hid them, but when Brother Erich threatened to make everyone do extra schoolwork, your Mutter took the blame. She had to clean the schoolroom for an entire month, but at least Brother Erich didn’t tell your Oma and Opa.” She had a faraway look in her eyes. “Ja, your Mutter loved to read. Any book she could find, she would read. Even the farm magazines. Did she keep reading books after she left East?”