“Mother is sleeping. The ringing bell might waken her.”
“Sorry.” He ducked his head. “I thought maybe you hadn’t heard it.” He stepped inside and I closed the door.
“The bell is loud enough I can hear it anywhere in the house.” I gestured for him to hang his coat on the hall tree.
“Did you have a bad day?” Using his thumb and forefinger, he reached forward and pretended to push my lips back into a smile. “Any coffee in the kitchen?” He winked. “And a piece of cake or pie?”
So much had happened since my return home that afternoon that I didn’t wish to act the hostess, but I waved him forward. “There may be a cup left. I don’t think there is any dessert. Mrs. Oelwine left early today.”
He chuckled. “You’ll have to put a stop to that. I enjoy her desserts.”
“Of late, desserts haven’t been a matter of high priority to Father and me, and Mother can seldom tolerate rich food.”
My answer had been curt, and I was surprised when he stopped short and stared at me.
“What is wrong with you? You’re not yourself this evening.”
I walked to the cupboard and removed a coffee cup. “I apologize, but there are times when I have more to worry about than coffee and dessert.”
“If you’d like me to leave, just say so. You did invite me, didn’t you?”
I sighed. Nathan was right. None of this was his fault. “I’m sorry, Nathan.” I poured coffee into his cup and carried it to the table. “This has been a day filled with unexpected news that will change our lives.”
His thick eyebrows lifted on his forehead like two brown wiggly caterpillars. “Our lives? Yours and mine?” He pointed first at himself and then at me. “What news? I haven’t heard anything.”
“The doctor told Mother there is nothing he can do to restore her health and her condition will only worsen.” I couldn’t bring myself to say she was dying. “Father and Mother have decided to move back to the Amana Colonies in Iowa. It’s what Mother wants, and my father has agreed.”
At first he grinned, but when he realized I was serious, he turned somber. “How can they even think of such a thing? When is this supposed to happen?”
I explained what my father had told me only a short time ago. With each remark, he interrupted me with a host of questions. Many of which I couldn’t answer. Finally I said, “You’ll need to ask my father to further explain his arrangements concerning the business. I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Did he mention any particular plans for my future at the company? He must have some idea in mind, since we’ll need a reliable income if I’m going to support you.”
“Support me?” My mind reeled. Did he think that I would remain behind and marry him? We hadn’t discussed marriage. What was he thinking? “Why would you think you would need to support me?”
He studied me for a moment. “You know I have feelings for you. I’ve hesitated to mention marriage because you told me that you believed couples should know each other for a long period of time before taking their vows.” He wrapped his hands around the coffee cup. “Have you considered the possibility that this is a sign we should move forward with wedding plans?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think it’s a sign we should marry. I promised my parents I would pray about my future, though I believe I know what I should do.”
His brow creased, and I didn’t miss the concern shadowing his eyes. “You’re not thinking of going with them, are you?” He pushed aside the empty cup.
I nodded. “Of course I am. To be honest, I believe there’s little choice to be made. I can’t imagine being separated from my mother when she’s ill and needs me.”
He leaned forward and extended his hand. “You don’t need to move there. You could go and visit from time to time. I’d go with you. If you don’t want to marry right away, you could make some sort of arrangement with one of the other teachers at the orphanage. Maybe remain here in the house and rent rooms to some of them.”
“Rent rooms? I don’t want to operate a boardinghouse when my mother needs me. Besides, my parents plan to sell the house. They’ll contribute the proceeds to the society when they go to Amana. It’s the way things are done.”
“I understand you want to help your mother, but I’m sure she wants you to have a life of your own.” He stood and paced the kitchen. “What about the children at the orphanage?” Wheeling around on his heel, he pinned me with a hard stare. “You’ve always said you wouldn’t give up your work with them.”
Like a spade in soft dirt, his words dug in and cut to the quick. “Sometimes people say things without realizing what the future holds. How could I have ever imagined such a possibility as this?”
“But if they mean so much to you, how can you so easily decide to leave them—and me?”
“As much as I care for the children, the love for my mother goes much deeper. Surely you can understand there is a vast difference.”
One look and I knew he didn’t understand. How could he? Nathan’s parents hadn’t showered him with love and protection. His father had been a stern and cold man who’d left the family when Nathan was only ten. His mother had expected much from her only child and had given little in return. At the age of fourteen, he’d left home and never looked back.
A part of me could understand his desire to strike out on his own, especially when there had been no encouragement at home, but his lack of compassion and his indifference haunted me. How could he push aside any concern for the mother who bore him? He didn’t know if she was alive or dead and harbored no desire to discover what had happened to the woman. At least that’s what he’d told me, and I had no reason to doubt him. Those thoughts had given me pause. Did Nathan possess the ability to love in a true and meaningful manner? He’d seemingly erased his mother from his life. Would he do the same if his wife ever displeased him?
He twisted around as though the statement caused him discomfort. “There comes a day when we must cling to our mates and leave our parents. This could help prepare you for our future marriage.”
“Right now I don’t have a husband or children of my own, and I believe this to be a time when I can put my parents first. Unless something drastic should happen to change my mind, I plan to go with them.”
His sigh signaled his displeasure. “As much as I don’t understand what you’re thinking, I’m even more baffled by your parents, especially your father. As far as I can see, this plan is impulsive and unwise. A complete destruction of everything they’ve worked for all their lives.”
“Facing death can change a person’s attitude about what’s important. Besides, my parents have never considered wealth their ultimate goal.”
Nathan returned to his chair. “Maybe not, but they’ve achieved more than most. It seems strange that they’re willing to hand it over without a thought of providing for your future.”
His tone surprised me. “Whatever they’ve earned is theirs. I have no claim to any of their property. If it gives my parents peace and happiness to contribute their assets and return to the colonies, who am I to say otherwise?”
“You are their daughter. Are you willing to live in poverty?” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I had hoped one day to purchase the business from your father, but it seems that dream will fade along with all the other aspirations I’ve ever had. There’s no bank that would loan me enough money to purchase the construction company.”
Nathan hunched his shoulders and looked every bit as despondent as he’d sounded. This conversation had become about him rather than about me, my parents, or my mother’s illness, and the thought grieved me.
I forced a smile. “Would you like more coffee?”
He shook his head. “Tell me about Amana. I want to understand what it is that appeals to your parents and why they would want to return.”
“You should ask my father. My knowledge is limited since I’ve never lived there and never questioned my parents much about their life be
fore they came to Kansas City. It didn’t seem particularly important.” My thoughts raced back in time. I recalled a few times when my mother had mentioned things that had happened in the colonies, but I’d been more interested in my playmates and school than in hearing about my mother’s past. “Beyond telling you that it is a communal society where they still speak a German dialect and live a simple life based upon their religious beliefs, there’s not much I can tell you.”
Nathan rubbed his jaw. “And you believe you will be happy living in this sort of place?”
I hesitated and considered his question. I prided myself on my ability to adjust to new circumstances, but living in a communal society would require drastic changes. Adjustments that would likely prove much more difficult than anything I’d ever encountered.
“I don’t know if I’ll be happy, but I’ll be with my parents and I want to care for my mother during this time when she needs me.”
His lips tightened into a thin line. “I can’t believe you can so easily make this choice.”
I understood his surprise and dismay, but I had hoped he would honor my decision—that he would understand and support me no matter my choice. Yet I didn’t believe Nathan had the ability to push aside his own wants and needs. For most of his life, he’d had only himself to depend upon—and only himself to please.
And though we’d made no commitment to each other, he expected me to say that I’d remain in Kansas City and convince my father to retain Forsythe Construction. That way Nathan could someday become the owner.
Chapter 4
April 1881
The much anticipated letter from Amana arrived on a beautiful day in the middle of April. The contents of the missive were much like the spring weather: warm and welcoming. The elders’ words of encouragement appeared to fortify my parents’ decision. Like the sprouting trees outside my bedroom window, they were prepared to begin a new season of their lives.
In the garden below, fearless daffodils and crocus bloomed in full array, while the less hearty flowers peeked through the soft dirt as if uncertain whether to push up or remain hidden belowground a little longer. My behavior remained more aligned with the bulbs hiding beneath the dirt—tentative and unsure about the future.
Since my father’s initial announcement that they would return to the colonies if granted permission, Mother had created a list of belongings she wished to take when we departed, and I’d been doing my best to sort and separate the items to remain from the items to be packed. Mr. Hartzfeld had located a buyer for our house. A family moving from the East wanted to purchase not only the house but as many of the furnishings as we wished to leave for them.
Mother declared it a sure sign that the proper decision had been made. Though less effusive, my father had been pleased by the transaction. “One less thing to worry over,” he’d said after gaining my final assurance that I wouldn’t later regret the sale. On the other hand, Nathan had been unhappy when I told him, expressing dismay at Father’s plans to sell.
As the days passed after the sale of our home, I’d seen less of Nathan. His constant efforts to discourage me had created a breach of sorts, and when he’d last come to call, he told me he wouldn’t return unless I sent word that I wanted to see him. Last night I wrote a note and asked Nathan to come to the house this evening if he was free.
I hurried downstairs before my father left for work and handed him the envelope. “Please don’t tell Nathan we’ve received the letter of permission. I prefer to tell him myself.”
Father tucked the envelope into his pocket. “I won’t say a word. I plan to speak with Mr. Hartzfeld, but I’ll be going to his office. We need to make final arrangements regarding the business and the house as soon as possible.”
“Do we need to be in a great rush? There hasn’t been any noticeable change in Mother’s health. Of late I’ve even wondered if the doctor’s assessment of her condition is incorrect.”
“Unfortunately, I’m sure the doctor is correct. He assures me he’s spoken to his colleagues. They affirm they’ve seen other patients who experience this same muscular weakness, but they simply don’t have a cure. Like your mother, their patients have periods when they flourish and appear to be on the road to recovery, but it isn’t permanent. He admonished me not to fall into the trap of believing she would get well.” A shadow of sadness veiled my father’s eyes. “The doctor was clear: The best thing we can do is provide her with good nutrition and tranquil surroundings. Our new home in Amana will provide both.”
He sighed. “I have been praying we will be able to get settled in the colonies before I detect any further changes in her condition.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Thus far, God has heard and answered my prayers. I’d like to be prepared to depart by the end of the month.”
“And I am thankful for that, Father.” I waited until he’d left and then hurried to gather my cloak and the cloth tote bag I used to carry books and papers between school and home.
The elders’ letter had placed a note of finality on my decision to leave Kansas City. Today I would tell Mr. Ludwig the awaited permission had arrived. When I’d originally told him of my plans to move, he’d expressed concern for the students. But since then, he’d made little effort to find a replacement. I had hoped he might secure a new teacher before I departed so the transition would be less difficult for the children. He later advised he hadn’t put much effort into the task, since locating a qualified teacher willing to volunteer her services would likely prove impossible.
I had personally inquired among some of the unmarried young women who devoted their time to charity work, but none had been interested in assuming a full-time volunteer position. I’d momentarily taken heart when Mary Wolff had pulled me aside after church services last Sunday and made inquiry, but once she learned of Mr. Ludwig’s engagement, her interest ceased and our conversation abruptly ended.
In the end, I’d been disheartened. If nobody stepped forward to help, it would make leaving all the more difficult. For a day or two I’d even considered remaining in Kansas City until a replacement could be found, but I soon realized that could take months—or even a year. I couldn’t take a chance someone would soon be located—not with Mother’s health on the decline.
Telling the children would be my most difficult challenge. I didn’t want them to feel that I was deserting them, but I needed to be honest. To build false hope and tell them I would return to the orphanage wasn’t fair—only time would tell what was in my future, and theirs.
As usual, Mr. Ludwig had taken his post outside his office door. He greeted each of the children by name as they passed him on the way to their classrooms. I wasn’t certain if the morning ritual was a test of his memory or if he thought it bolstered the children’s self-esteem. After the first few weeks, I’d expected him to cease the practice, but there had been no sign he intended to quit.
“Good morning, Miss Rhoder. How are you this fine day?”
“Fine, Mr. Ludwig.” I slowed my step as I approached and stopped beside him. “If you have a moment, I’d like to speak with you in private.”
His jaw twitched at the prospect of changing his daily habit, but he ushered me inside. “Is there a problem?”
Knowing he wanted to return to his regular post, I quickly explained this would be my final week at the school. “I do hope you can locate someone to replace me. Perhaps an ad in the newspaper might prove beneficial.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think a newspaper advertisement would succeed in bringing a volunteer teacher to our doors. We will have to wait for God’s provision.”
I wanted to tell him that sometimes God expects us to take action while we wait but decided such a comment might do more harm than good. “Then I will pray for Him to provide the perfect teacher.”
Seemingly pleased with my answer, Mr. Ludwig nodded and hurried back to his post outside the doorway. Sorrow weighed heavy on my shoulders as I trudged toward my classroom. Nettie Wilson skipped toward me, her wispy blo
nd hair flying in all directions.
“Are we having story time today, Miss Jancey—I mean, Miss Rhoder?” She flashed a worried look toward Mr. Ludwig.
“Yes, but not until later this afternoon.” Telling the children during story time might help soften the blow. At least that was my hope.
We walked hand-in-hand to the classroom, where the other children had already gathered and were shuffling to their seats. For the remainder of the morning and early afternoon, I did my best to conduct classes in my usual manner. If the children noticed my inability to concentrate or to display my customary enthusiasm, they didn’t comment. After they returned indoors from their afternoon playtime, I pulled my chair to the middle of the room and motioned for them to form a semicircle around the chair.
“We’re going to end the day with story time today because I have a very special tale that I want to tell you.”
Caroline’s hand shot into the air. “Is it a story we’ve heard before, Miss Rhoder?”
I smiled and shook my head. “No, it isn’t.”
“Is it from a book, or is it one you’re making up in your head?” Matthew Turner didn’t bother to raise his hand before asking, but I didn’t reprimand him.
“This isn’t from a book.” As I looked into their expectant faces, I burned this moment into my memory. I didn’t want to forget any one of these children. Each one had become precious to me. Hot tears burned my eyes, and I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket.
“Why are you crying, Miss Rhoder?” Bertie wiggled forward, her lips quivering with concern.
“I think there’s something in my eye.” I didn’t tell Bertie it was tears. That wouldn’t help matters in the least.
After inhaling slowly, I folded my hands in my lap and glanced around the room. “Many years ago, a young man and woman fell in love with each other and decided they wanted to get married.”
“Eww. Is this going to be a love story?” Matthew curled his lips and wrinkled his freckled nose.
A Simple Change Page 3
