Fields of Grace

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Lillian patted Jakob’s hand. “I am sure you are right, Jakob. Now sit back down. The road is bumpy, and I would not want to see you bounced from the wagon bed.”

  Jakob laughed. “I like to bounce!”

  “Sit down, Jakob.”

  At his father’s low-toned command, Jakob sank back onto a trunk. But he twisted this way and that, peeking past his parents’ heads to examine the road ahead.

  Behind him, Henrik and Joseph spoke in hushed tones, and Eli whistled a tuneless melody. Aware of her companions’ activities yet feeling oddly separated from them, Lillian scanned the area as they traveled. Knowing this would be her last glimpse, she found importance in every detail of the ground, the sky, and even the span of openness in between.

  The Mennonites’ wheat fields, harvested of their hearty winter wheat only one month ago, were now speckled with stubble rather than waving with tall stalks of ripe wheat. The stubble allowed a view across the rolling landscape, where she could watch the sun climb higher in the ever-lightening sky. The fireball seemed to shrink as it rose, yet the heat grew more intense as the morning progressed. Before long, she discarded her shawl and tugged the brim of her bonnet forward to shade her eyes.

  They passed through small villages and larger towns, over winding roads where other travelers in less burdened wagons pulled around them to disappear over bends. By the time the sun hovered directly overhead, the horses’ footsteps were plodding rather than brisk, and the boys’ mumbled chatter had long since ceased. A glance in the back of the wagon found all three boys drowsing, little Jakob lying sideways across a trunk and Henrik and Joseph with chins on their chests.

  She touched Reinhardt’s sleeve. “Can we not stop for a drink and something to eat? We would all benefit from stretching our legs a bit.”

  Reinhardt transferred both reins to one hand and used his free hand to remove his gold watch from its hidden pocket in his jacket. He scowled at the watch’s face, looked skyward, then slipped the watch back into his jacket before pulling back on the reins. “Whoa.”

  The horses came to a stop with snorts and giant nods of their heads. Eli brought his horse even with the wagon seat and halted.

  “Lillian thinks we should have a drink and some food,” Reinhardt said.

  Eli grinned. “I will not argue against Lillian’s idea.”

  The boys roused, and everyone climbed out of the wagon. Joseph and Jakob chased each other in circles while Lillian pulled cheese sandwiches, dried fruit, and a water jug from a woven basket. Reinhardt spoke a blessing, and then they sat in the grassy area beside the road to eat. They ate their fill in silence while the breeze cooled their sweaty brows and noisy birds scolded from the brush.

  When they’d finished, Jakob tapped Reinhardt’s shoulder. “Are we in Germany yet, Papa?”

  Reinhardt scratched his chin, shaking his head. “Nä, son. Not yet. But by the time the stars come out in the sky tomorrow, we will be in Germany.”

  Jakob heaved a huge sigh. “I am tired of sitting on that trunk.

  My bottom hurts.”

  With a light chuckle, Reinhardt warned, “Well, climb back in the wagon anyway or your bottom might hurt for a different reason.”

  Jakob clambered over the side without another word of complaint. Joseph and Henrik joined him more slowly, and even Lillian delayed climbing back onto the seat. Her hips felt stiff from the long drive; sitting held no appeal. She rose on her tiptoes to whisper in Reinhardt’s ear. “Might the boys and I walk behind the wagon for a while?”

  His brows came down, and by his frown Lillian felt certain he would refuse her request. But then a gentle smile crinkled his eyes. He leaned forward and spoke in a voice intended only for her ears. “Your bottom is hurting, too?”

  She hunched her shoulders and giggled, her gaze skittering sideways to Eli in case he had heard. But he went on rubbing his horse’s nose, unaware. “Jo.”

  Reinhardt clapped his hands once. “Boys, your mother wants to walk. Do you want to join her?”

  With a joyful cry, Jakob leapt from the wagon and bounded to her side. The older boys also hopped down. Lillian took Jakob by the hand and swung a smile on each of her sons. “While we walk, let us sing. It will make the time pass more quickly.”

  Reinhardt brought the reins down on the horses’ rumps, and the wagon rolled forward. She and the boys fell into step. Lifting her chin, she began to sing. “Oh, for a faith that will not shrink . . .”

  Eli stifled a yawn while he waited for Reinhardt to emerge from the inn. He wouldn’t mind sleeping in a stable with the horses, but he knew Lillian would prefer a bed for their final night on this side of the ocean. They were dusty and travel-rumpled, and they would all appreciate a bath and change of clothes. Lillian even hoped to wash out the clothes they had worn for their four-day journey before packing them in a trunk.

  “Eli?”

  Eli turned toward Lillian. Her dark eyes were underlined with purple smudges of weariness.

  “Do you suppose Reinhardt will be able to get three rooms? The city is so crowded.”

  Eli let his eyes roam the busy street before facing her again. “If not at this inn, surely there will be one with three rooms available somewhere. There are several inns along the street.”

  The boys remained in the back of the wagon, as Reinhardt had instructed, but all three looked up and down the street, their eyes wide. Eli surmised they would enjoy the opportunity to explore. Hamburg, with its bustling streets, tall businesses crowded side by side, and noisy street vendors must incite curiosity after living their entire lives in the tiny village of Gnadenfeld. Obedience held them captive, however, and Eli sent Joseph an approving nod when their gazes met.

  Reinhardt strode from the building, his shoulders drooping. He rested his arms on the edge of the wagon and gave Lillian a weak smile. “We have three rooms. And the innkeeper said he would arrange baths for each of us, although it cost extra.”

  “It is worth paying extra.” Lillian wrinkled her nose. “We all smell so bad the ship captain might not let us board.”

  “If we have tickets, we can board.” Reinhardt turned to address Eli. “There is a livery stable on the next street. The innkeeper said the liveryman might be interested in purchasing your horses. Let us unload our trunks and get Lillian and the boys settled in the rooms, then we can go speak with him.”

  Eli nodded and swung down from his saddle. He tied the horse’s reins to a wagon wheel, and then he, Reinhardt, and the two older boys carried the trunks into the inn. The rooms were plain but clean, with plump feather mattresses on the beds. His aching body felt relieved already, knowing it would have the pleasure of a comfortable bed for one last night.

  Before leaving the room where the two older boys would sleep, Reinhardt pointed sternly in the boys’ direction. “You stay here until Eli and I return. Take your baths and change into clean clothes, and then you may visit your mother’s room. But do not leave the inn. Tonight we will all go to supper together, but I do not want you wandering the city.”

  Joseph and Henrik exchanged a quick look of disappointment, but they nodded.

  Eli followed Reinhardt to the wagon and untied the reins from the wheel. As he rode, he repeatedly patted the animal’s sleek neck. He had to sell the horses—they couldn’t go along, and he needed the money to help with expenses when they reached America. Yet he couldn’t deny wishing he didn’t have to part with his animals. They had been faithful servants as well as companions on his lonely farm. It pained him to leave them with strangers.

  After a thorough examination from teeth to tail, the liveryman made Eli a fair offer. With a weight in his chest, Eli accepted the payment. He stroked each beast’s nose one last time before turning his back and leaving the livery.

  As they moved down the busy street, Reinhardt gave Eli a clap on the back. “Nä-jo, it is time for baths, supper, and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow we go.”

  Despite the difficulties of the past days and the challenges that
waited ahead, Eli felt a small rush of anticipation. Tomorrow they would go. God, what do You have waiting for us in America?

  4

  Lillian tightly held Jakob’s hand and watched the porters carry her family’s trunks up the wooden plank to the ship. The men had promised to put the trunks beneath their assigned bunks, and she had little choice but to trust them.

  People waiting to board the ship jostled her. She pulled Jakob against her side to protect him. Catching Joseph’s eye, she admonished, “Stay close. We do not want to lose you, too.” The boy took one step closer to her shoulder.

  So much activity! Her heart pounded in apprehension as she scanned the teeming wooden pier. Somewhere Reinhardt and Eli searched for Henrik. Of all the boys, Henrik should be the least likely to wander off. Yet just moments ago Joseph had asked the question, “Where is Henrik?” And they’d realized he was no longer with them. A prayer winged from her soul: God, protect him and bring him back to us!

  Jakob yanked on her skirt. “Mama, people are getting on the ship! Are we getting on the ship?”

  Lillian’s mouth went dry at the sight of the throng moving one by one up the narrow gangplank. Should she, Joseph, and Jakob get in line? She had their tickets—they could board and wait for Reinhardt and the others on the ship.

  Joseph scowled at Jakob. “We cannot board until Father comes. What if they close the gate and we are on the ship without Father and Henrik? Do we want to sail away without them?”

  Lillian murmured her thanks for Joseph’s sensible reply. Of course they must wait. But Jakob continued to tug at her, eager to cross the gangplank and get on the ship. She gave his shoulder a firm jerk. “Stand still, Jakob! We will not board until our family is all together.”

  Jakob stuck out his lower lip and folded his arms across his chest, but he stopped fidgeting. Bobbing heads of passersby blocked her view, but Lillian continued to scan the crowd for Reinhardt or Eli. Just when panic had nearly sent her stomach into spasms, she spotted Reinhardt’s familiar black hat. She rose on tiptoe, and relief flooded her when she realized he had Henrik by the collar of his jacket, propelling him along. Eli followed on their heels.

  She pressed Jakob into his brother’s hands. “Joseph, keep Jakob with you and stay right here. Do not move!” She worked her way through the crowd to meet her husband and oldest son in the center of the pier. “Oh, Henrik!” Although he remained caught in Reinhardt’s grasp, Lillian embraced him. “What a fright you gave me! How did you get separated from us?”

  Reinhardt gave Henrik’s jacket a yank that pulled him free of Lillian’s arms. “Tell your mother how you came to be separated from us.”

  Despite his father’s demand, Henrik clamped his jaw and looked to the side in silence.

  Color rose in Reinhardt’s face. “He did it on purpose. He wanted to go back to Gnadenfeld.” He released Henrik with a sharp jerk that pulled his jacket askew. “Onndankboa benjel dü.”

  Henrik’s cheeks streaked red as he spun to face his father. “You call me an ungrateful boy? I am neither a boy nor ungrateful. I am a man with my own ideas!”

  “Bah!” Reinhardt slashed his hand as if erasing his son’s words. “A man thinks of others before himself. But you think only of yourself.” He pointed at Lillian. “How dare you frighten your mother this way!”

  For a moment, remorse flashed in Henrik’s eyes, but it disappeared when Reinhardt continued.

  “You would sneak back to Gnadenfeld after all we have done for you? Everything we left behind, we left because of you!”

  “Did I ask you to leave things behind for me? I wanted to stay! I would perform my duty and then come home again, but you said we had to leave!” Henrik’s voice, normally low-toned, came out as a screech. “It was not my choice!”

  “I gave you no choice because you are still a foolish boy and I am your father.” Reinhardt banged his thumb against his chest. “I know what is best. You will honor me and do as I say.” He leaned forward, his nose inches from Henrik’s.

  The two, nearly identical in height and build, squared off with matching brown eyes flashing. Each clenched his fists.

  Lillian clapped her hands over her mouth. Might Reinhardt strike his son . . . or vice versa? She started to step forward and intervene, but a small body shot past her. Jakob wrapped his arms around Henrik’s waist.

  “Brooda, my brother, do not be angry. Come with me on the ship.” The little boy lifted his face to Henrik, his expression pleading. “I want you to come with me.”

  Henrik caught Jakob’s arm as if to push him away, but then his grasp relaxed. He dropped to one knee and slid his hand onto Jakob’s shoulder. “All right, Jakob. I will come.”

  Jakob threw himself against Henrik’s chest, and Henrik scooped him into his arms as he rose. Carrying Jakob, he turned toward the gangplank without another word. Lillian shot Reinhardt a relieved look, but Reinhardt’s hard expression didn’t change. He cupped her elbow with one hand and reached toward Joseph with the other.

  “Let us board before the ship leaves without us.”

  Once on board, Henrik lowered Jakob to the deck but kept a grip on his hand. The little boy’s eagerness to explore matched Henrik’s desire to escape. Maybe by staying together, they could keep each other out of trouble.

  Henrik glanced at his father’s stern profile. Guilt pricked, but anger squelched it. He shouldn’t feel guilty for resenting this move to America. Wasn’t he almost eighteen—a man? He’d been told his whole life he was intelligent; Ma often praised him for his ability to make good decisions. But Father treated him as though he were no older than Jakob. Embarrassment stung anew as he remembered being hauled to the ship’s boarding dock like a wayward child.

  Jakob stepped on the lowest rung of the railing, and Henrik curled one arm around his little brother’s waist to prevent him from toppling. He clamped his free hand over the cool iron bar that formed the top rail and peered at the people standing on the boarding dock. His heart skipped a beat when he spotted a young woman with sunshine yellow braids much like Susie Friesen’s. Would he ever see Susie again?

  He blinked, turning his attention away from the yellow-haired girl to others who clustered on the pier and lifted their hands in farewell. Jakob waved animatedly, as if he personally knew everyone down below. None of his brother’s enthusiasm touched Henrik. Dread sat like a stone in his stomach at the thought of leaving Susie, leaving Gnadenfeld, leaving all that was familiar. Yet Father insisted he had to go.

  Honour thy father and mother. The biblical command had been fed to him from his earliest memories. He’d had few opportunities to rebel, given the numerous watchful eyes and wagging tongues in Gnadenfeld that witnessed and willingly reported any misdeed, real or imagined. Henrik had obeyed partly out of honor and partly out of fear of unpleasant consequences. All the while, he had looked forward to the day he would leave the school in Gnadenfeld to attend a Mennonite-approved university.

  But now his long-held plans had been thrust aside in favor of traveling to America. Did they have Mennonite-approved universities in America? Henrik snorted, his arm crushing Jakob tightly against his aching heart. Father and Eli called America “de Launt üt ne Je’laäjenheit”—the land of opportunity. Well, once there, Henrik would be eighteen—a man fully grown—and he would seek his own opportunities, separate from Father’s plans.

  “Come, Jakob.” Henrik caught Jakob beneath his armpits and lifted him from the rail. “Let us go below deck and find our bunks.”

  Jakob huffed his disapproval. “But I want to look around the ship!”

  “We can explore the rest of the ship when we are out on the water.”

  Although Henrik sensed Father’s sharp-eyed gaze on his back as he guided Jakob toward the stairway leading to the lower levels of the ship, he didn’t turn back to look.

  Lillian awakened to the sound of retching. Forcing her heavy eyelids open, she squinted into the deep shadows and tried to determine the source of the sound. Was it Jakob, who sle
pt directly above her on his shelf bed?

  The retching came again, longer and more intense. She was able to discern that it came from somewhere ahead and to her left, not from above. Ducking low to avoid bumping her head on the underside of Jakob’s bunk, she rolled from her lumpy mattress. She stood for a moment, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. Lanterns glowed from the far end of the hallway, but little of the light reached the center of the sleeping hall.

  In a few moments, she was able to make out a woman’s form leaning over the edge of her bunk with her arm clamped over her stomach. After two weeks aboard the ship, Lillian had become accustomed to the gentle up-and-down movements of the great boat on the water, and she had no difficulty advancing the few feet needed to reach the woman.

  An unpleasant odor reached her nostrils as she neared the woman, but she swallowed hard and touched the woman’s pale cheek. The heat surprised her, and she yanked her hand back.

  The woman stared at her with glassy eyes. “Oh, please help me. I am sick. So sick . . .” Apparently the fever that had begun sweeping across the passengers less than a week out to sea had captured a new victim.

  “What is it?” A cranky voice came from farther down the line of bunks. “Who is talking?”

  In a whispered tone, Lillian replied, “Someone is ill. I am assisting her. Go back to sleep.”

  “Ill?” The voice became more shrill. “Another one? Get her to the sick bay!”

  The shrill-voiced woman’s lack of compassion stirred Lillian’s indignation, even though she understood the worry behind the demand. She didn’t want her Jakob, who slept in the women’s bay rather than the men’s because he was so young, exposed to this fever. At least two people had succumbed to the illness despite the doctor’s prescription of caudle and bed rest.

  “Are you going to get the steward to move her or not?” The woman’s strident voice roused several others, and a distressed murmur carried through the sleeping hallway. The ill woman would need to be moved to the sick bay quickly before a disturbance broke out.