Fields of Grace

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Heavenly Father, help me guide my boys in Your ways. Without effort, a song formed in her heart. She opened her mouth and burst forth with “Auf, Auf, Mein Herz, mir Freuden,” one of her favorite hymns from the Glaubensstimme, the songbook used in the little church in Gnadenfeld for as long as she could remember.

  Although “Awake, My Heart, With Gladness” was traditionally an Easter hymn, the idea of starting anew in a fresh land seemed to pair well with the heart-stirring phrases. The words offered an encouragement to meet the challenges that lay ahead with joy and anticipation rather than fear and concern. Yet, for reasons she didn’t want to examine, this time the music failed to melt away her worries.

  13

  Ma! Ma!” Joseph’s excited shout roused Lillian from sleep. She sat upright and blinked into surprisingly bright light. The boy held the curtains wide, allowing sunlight to pour through the window. “Topeka, Ma! We’re here!”

  Lillian looked out onto a city scene similar to many others they’d witnessed over the past days of travel. Wood-and rock-constructed buildings lined a wide street. The train chugged slowly, its whistle warning the townspeople of its approach. By craning her neck, she could glimpse the station ahead. A long, scrolled board mounted above a covered walkway held one word: TOPEKA. The same word from their tickets. As Joseph had gleefully exclaimed, they’d reached their destination.

  Lifting her hands to her hair, she chided, “Drop the curtain, Joseph, so we might ready ourselves without observation.”

  Joseph let the curtain fall, but he peeked through the narrow slit between the two heavy panels while Lillian brushed her hair, braided it, and fashioned the waist-length plait into a thick knot at the back of her neck. A change of clothes wasn’t possible with their trunks stored in a boxcar at the back of the train, but she smoothed her full skirt as best she could and tugged at Joseph’s shirt in an attempt to remove the worst of the wrinkles.

  The train’s whistle let out one long blast that accompanied the brakes’ ear-piercing squeal. Both she and Joseph braced themselves against their seats as the train screeched to a shuddering halt. The moment it stopped, Lillian snatched her apron from the end of her bench and whipped it around her waist.

  A light tap sounded on the paneled door of their berth. Joseph bounced up and opened the door before Lillian had finished tying her apron. Her hands scrambled to complete the task, but Eli caught her mid-tie. Although adequately covered, the idea of his seeing her perform part of her dressing duties sent fire through her cheeks.

  Apparently he found the situation disconcerting, as well, because he averted his gaze, angling his face down the hallway instead of into the berth. “This is Topeka,” he said unnecessarily. “I spoke with the conductor, and he gave me instructions for finding the men who can sell us land. I wonder . . .”

  He turned his head slowly, by inches, as if fearful she would still be doing something he shouldn’t see. She clasped her hands at her waist and met his gaze directly, although she wanted to hide her flaming cheeks behind her palms. His shoulders heaved in a deep breath, and a grin teased his lips.

  “I wonder if, rather than going to a meeting with land sellers, you would like to take the boys to an eating place and have a good meal?”

  Lillian’s stomach growled at the thought of a decent meal. “Ach, jo.” The train’s fare had not been much better than the meals served by the ship’s unimaginative cook.

  Eli’s eyes crinkled with his smile. “The conductor tells me a restaurant can be found over the bridge and down a street called Kansas Avenue. This will give you and the boys a chance to learn to recognize the name of our new state. He assures me the food is very tasty and plentiful.” He removed his wallet from his jacket pocket and withdrew two crisp bills. “Take this. I have been teaching Henrik the dollar amounts, so he understands the costs. You and the boys enjoy a meal. I will go see the land sellers and meet you at the restaurant when I have made arrangements for a purchase.”

  “Then you will eat, too?” Lillian fingered the bills. It wasn’t fair that she and the boys should have the pleasure of a hot, flavorful meal while Eli went hungry.

  “Jo, then I will eat, too. Thank you for your concern.” The warmth in his eyes made her face flood with heat again. He gestured for her and Joseph to step into the aisle. “Now you go. I will see to our trunks, but I cannot take them until I have found a wagon. The conductor said the land sellers will be able to direct me to a wainwright.” He spun on the worn heel of his boot and walked away.

  She held Henrik’s elbow, allowing him to escort her off the train. Joseph scuffed behind them as they crossed over a wooden bridge and then turned onto a street marked with the word Kansas. The boys gawked into store windows, their eyes round and curious, but Lillian looked at the sky. It was bright blue and dotted with fluffy white clouds—a beautiful sight. Seeing that blue sky, reminiscent of the canopy from her childhood wanderings in the fields outside of Gnadenfeld, made her feel at home, even though the town was new and strange.

  The smell of fresh bread and cooking meat reached her nostrils even before they stepped onto the boardwalk of a wood-sided building with a tall, square front. White paint glistened in the sun, and dark blue shutters stood guard on either side of the windows and the centered door. Henrik guided her to the door, but Lillian hesitated.

  She glanced at her travel-rumpled skirt and then at the crisp, checked curtain hanging behind the glass. Surely a building as clean and neat as this on the outside would be even neater on the inside. Although her stomach begged her to proceed, she remained stiff and unmoving on the sidewalk. She had never eaten in a restaurant before, but she felt certain their wrinkled, sweat-stained clothes would be unwelcome here. And what would she do if they spoke to her in English?

  Henrik gave her arm a little yank. “Come on, Ma.”

  She took a step away from the door. “I . . . I do not think we should go in.”

  “But Onkel Eli said for us to eat,” Joseph said. “He will meet us here later. I’m hungry.”

  Lillian worried her lower lip between her teeth. She didn’t know where to find Eli to tell him they couldn’t enter the restaurant. A long bench sat beneath one of the windows. She supposed they could sit and wait for Eli to come to them. While she considered this possibility, the door swung open and a young woman wearing a snow-white apron over a dress the same color as the shutters offered her hand in welcome.

  The young woman spoke, but Lillian was unfamiliar with the words. She shook her head, wrinkling her brow and flipping her hands outward to indicate her lack of understanding.

  Tipping her shining blond head, the woman said, “Hollandisch?Russisch? Deutsch?”

  Lillian’s heart skipped a beat at the recognizable word. “Jo, Deutsch.”

  Soft laughter spilled from the girl’s lips. She said in perfect German, “Ah, welcome to Aunt Toadie’s Kitchen. Please come in.”

  Joseph bolted through the door, and Henrik guided Lillian after him. Inside, Joseph peered around with his mouth open. Even Henrik’s gaze flitted from the glossy wooden floors to a huge tin fixture holding dozens of candles above their heads.

  “Follow me, please, and I will seat you.”

  Round tables draped with blue-checked cloths filled the space, which was larger than Lillian had expected. Potted plants—some leafy and green, some covered with blooms—created a gardenlike appearance. Fat candles glowing on each tabletop and in scrolled-tin wall sconces lit every square inch of the white-painted room. Lillian tried to make herself as small as possible as they followed their hostess to a table in the corner, near a large rock fireplace now empty of a blaze.

  The girl gestured to the spindle-backed chairs that surrounded the table. Her full rosy lips curved into a smile. “Please be seated. I will see to your needs.”

  “Dank,” Lillian said. Clearly this girl’s beauty went below the surface to her soul. She glanced at Henrik and caught him staring at the girl.

  “Sie sind willkommen. My name is
Nora, and it is my pleasure to serve you. Aunt Toadie baked pork chops today. May I bring some to you?”

  The good smells filling the dining room convinced Lillian that any food served here would please their tongues. “Jo, bitscheen.”

  With another nod, Nora glided away toward a set of wooden double doors.

  Henrik watched her until she disappeared behind the doors. Then he turned and caught Lillian smiling at him. He fussed with the edge of the white napkin lying on the table, carefully clearing all expression from his face. Lillian bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from giggling. Perhaps Henrik was finally beginning to forget Susie Friesen.

  True to her promise, Nora served them an enticing meal of seasoned pork chops, mashed sweet potatoes swimming in butter, whole green beans, and fluffy rolls on homey, blue-speckled plates. While they ate, she hovered beside their table, visiting with them as if they were elite guests rather than common immigrants. Joseph peppered her with questions, all of which she answered without hesitation. They learned she had been raised in the eastern United States and even had attended a university in New York City. Upon graduating, she had traveled to Kansas in response to her great-aunt’s plea for help in her restaurant.

  “Since I am able to speak fluently in four different languages, I can converse with many of the immigrants who arrive on the trains.”

  Henrik’s brows formed a sharp V. “If you have such education, why do you work as a server?”

  Nora laughed lightly, proving she took no offense at Henrik’s bold query. “I have few skills other than speaking in many languages. But I see that ability as a gift. I believe this is where the Lord guided me, allowing me to use my ability to help newcomers like yourselves feel welcome.”

  “You have made us feel very welcome,” Lillian assured her. Her fondness for this young woman grew with each passing moment.

  “Then I am satisfied.” Nora flashed another smile around the table. Then she looked up. “Oh! Another guest. Excuse me.” She scurried toward the front door. Lillian looked over her shoulder. Eli had arrived. Half rising, Lillian waved at him.

  Eli tipped his hat to Nora, then strode directly to their table. He sat across from Lillian and removed his hat. Looking at their empty plates, he licked his lips. “Nä-jo, it appears you had a goot meal for sure.”

  Moments later, Nora brought him a plate of thick chops. Lillian sipped hot, sweet coffee and listened to Henrik and Joseph visit with Nora while Eli cut into his pork chops. When he had finished, he wiped his mouth with a napkin, placed it beside his plate, then patted his stomach.

  “Ach, that was very good. The best since we left Gnadenfeld.”

  Nora poured coffee from a tall enamel pot into Lillian’s cup and then picked up Eli’s empty plate. “Danke schoen. I will tell Aunt Toadie you approved of the meal. May I bring you a piece of pie?”

  After a moment of thought, Eli shook his head. “My stomach is full. But dank.”

  Nora bid the family farewell and hurried toward the doors that led to the kitchen.

  Eli leaned his elbows on the table. “I tell you what I have gotten done since you left the train.”

  Lillian marveled at all Eli had accomplished in the past hour. After visiting with a railroad representative and making arrangement for the purchase of 240 acres of land near a town called Newton, he had bought a wagon—“Called a prairie schooner,” he said with a wink at Joseph—and two pairs of oxen to pull it.

  “Not horses?” Henrik’s tone carried scorn. Eli’s choice surprised Lillian, too. In Gnadenfeld, he had been known as a fine horseman. Surely he would prefer horses.

  “Oxen are sturdy beasts,” Eli said without a hint of remorse, “better suited to this hard landscape. One had a calf not long ago, so she will give us milk for our journey. They will take us to our land, and then they will take turns pulling the plow I bought.” His expression turned dreamy. “This land, Lillian, is meant to receive seed. We will be successful here. I feel it in my bones.”

  Henrik’s soft snort didn’t even make Eli flinch.

  “We must go back to the railroad station now and load our trunks onto the wagon. Then we will purchase supplies at the general store, and off we go to our new land!”

  Joseph propped his elbows on the table’s edge, imitating Eli’s pose. “How will we know where to go? Are there roads?”

  “Jo, boy, there are some roads. But look here.” Eli slipped a round disc from his pocket and held it on the palm of his hand. Joseph leaned in eagerly, and even Henrik angled his head to see. “The wainwright gave this to me. It is a compass.” He pointed to a tiny hand quivering on the dial. “See here these letters? They mean north, south, east, and west. This will help us stay on course.”

  Joseph nodded and his hair flopped over his forehead. “The ship’s captain used a tool like this to keep us on course on the ocean.”

  “I am certain the captain’s tool was much more complex than this,” Eli responded, “but it will suit our purpose.” He grinned at Lillian. “Newton is southwest of Topeka, so . . .” Turning again to Joseph, he said, “The compass is very smart and this little pin shows us where north can be found. So if the compass points north, what line on the compass will point to our new home?”

  Joseph jammed his finger against the glass cover on the disc halfway between S and W. “Here!”

  “Jo, good job. You will make a fine navigator for us.”

  The boy beamed. Eli slipped the disc back into his pocket and looked at Lillian. “We will be required to stop in Newton and ask for someone to accompany us to the piece of property I purchased. The land sellers sent a telegram to let them know to expect us.”

  Everything was falling neatly into place, just as Reinhardt had planned. Lillian vacillated between gladness that their dreams were coming true and grief that not all members of her family were here to see the dream unveiled.

  Eli pushed his palms against the table, rising. “Now we must buy our supplies. Come. We want to leave Topeka before evening. From now on, we camp until we reach our land, and I do not know how many cities with stores we will find in between. So we must make good and thorough selections while we are here and supplies are plentiful.”

  Then he faced Joseph again, his eyes twinkling. “Speaking of selections, Joseph, I have a special job for you.”

  Joseph pressed his palm to his chest. “For me?”

  “Jo. I met a man who will sell us some chickens. Our wagon has a place to hang a chicken cage, so I am thinking it would be good for us to have fresh eggs as we travel and for when we reach our land. Oxen and horses I know, but I did not raise birds on my farm. You fed the neighbor’s chickens in Gnadenfeld. Do you think you could choose for us some good laying hens?”

  Joseph nearly danced with excitement. “Jo, Onkel Eli! I will choose the very best ones!”

  Eli slung his arm around Joseph’s shoulders, and they headed for the outside door. Lillian followed, words of praise for Eli filling her mind. Eli placed such confidence in Joseph. The boy would surely flourish beneath Eli’s attention and care.

  Then she glanced at Henrik, and her heart fell. His sullen expression had returned. It would take more than letting him choose chickens to reach Henrik.

  14

  Can you build an outdoor fire?” Eli asked Lillian as the boys headed off to look for dead limbs.

  She lifted her chin. “I built many fires in ne Oweback at home. An outdoor flame cannot be any harder to strike than one in an oven.”

  Eli noted that weariness lined her face, making her appear older than her thirty-eight years, yet she expressed no complaint, only a willingness to do what was needed. She walked to the jockey box hanging on the wagon’s sideboard and flipped it open. Slipping the packet of wooden matches into her skirt pocket, she drew in a breath and pointed to the roadway they had just covered.

  “I am going to look along the road for rocks to circle my cook fire.” She glanced across the area where Eli had indicated they would camp. “I would not
wish this grass to catch the flame.”

  “That is sound thinking.” Eli wanted to tell her how much he appreciated her positive, hardworking attitude, but a lump blocked his throat, holding the words of praise inside. He released the two lead oxen from their yoke and called a warning: “Watch the grass for snakes.”

  Lillian jolted, momentarily ceasing her progress. Then she bent over and snatched up a sturdy twig. She continued, slashing the grass with her stick.

  Quite a woman, his frü. His wife. He savored the American word as he guided the oxen to the back of the wagon and tied their leads to a rear wheel. Although marrying Lillian had been a decision born of necessity, he already recognized his long-held brotherly fondness for her deepening to something more. His gaze followed her, watching her stoop to lift a rock and drop it in the pouch made with her apron, then walk a few steps farther, her head turning this way and that in search of sizable stones. The bouncing wagon ride, with wind-carried dust constantly pelting them, had worn him down. Lillian could be no less weary, yet she didn’t sit in the shade and complain. Instead, she gathered stones so she could safely build a fire to prepare their supper.

  Eli scratched an ox’s head while considering the cheerful spirit Lillian possessed. With all she’d lost, she should be mired in grief. But not once since the day she’d held Jakob’s lifeless body in her arms had she spoken of either Reinhardt or Jakob. She didn’t look back, but forward—to the future. Their future . . .

  His thoughts skipped ahead to nightfall. Until this time there had been separate areas for sleeping. But tonight there were no hotel rooms or berths or sleeping hallways to keep them apart. How could he offer Lillian at least the semblance of privacy? He and the boys could throw pallets anywhere and lie in a row, but Lillian? She needed her own spot.