“And you? Have you taken up your pen to write him?”
I shook my head. “No. If I am to remain here, I thought it best to adjust to my new life rather than look back to what I’ve left behind.”
“I see. But now you are not so sure?” He inhaled a deep breath. “You must remember that you are not bound to stay here, Jancey. It would be wise for you to make a decision before the sale of the business is completed. I could possibly make arrangements to set aside a portion of money for you if you want to leave. But if you wait . . .”
His voice trailed off and I nodded. “I know. If I wait, then I must find work to support myself or find a husband who is willing and able to do so.” I reached for his hand. “I have no plans to leave, Father. Mother needs me, and I want to be with both of you.” He didn’t argue, but I saw the worry in his eyes. “And if Nathan writes, I promise I will respond, but please don’t worry about me. In no time, you will discover I have completely adjusted to this new life.”
I meant what I said. I was determined to do my best—for Mother’s sake and for my own. I’d been heartened by her improved health and her ability to rally the day after our arrival. However, she’d taken a downward turn immediately thereafter. When she agreed that I should bring her morning meal back to the house, I knew her pain was greater than she’d told either Father or me. Though I hadn’t mentioned it, I planned to seek Brother Herman’s permission to extend my time at home unless she showed some improvement after eating her breakfast.
When we arrived at the kitchen, I walked to the rear of the building and signaled to Sister Bertha. “My mother is not well this morning, so I will need to take her breakfast to the house.”
“Ja. Sister Hanna will see to it. This isn’t her week to help clean in the Küche. She can take it to her as soon as she has eaten.”
“No, I will take it.” I tightened my lips.
Resting one hand on her ample hip, Sister Bertha shook her head. “Sister Hanna tells me this is to be your first day cleaning at the workers’ quarters, so you must go to work. Sister Hanna is more than able to care for your Mutter now that she is not needed in the Küche all day.” I wanted to remain in the kitchen and argue, but Sister Bertha waved her fork toward the dining hall. “You should go and sit down. The bell is ringing and I need to see to my work.”
Clamping my lips together, I hurried into the dining hall and scanned the room for Brother Herman. My thoughts exploded like grease popping in a hot skillet. If Brother Herman should give me permission to remain at home, would Sister Bertha become angry? She’d made it plain that she’d send Sister Hanna to attend to Mother’s needs. Yet when I’d first arrived, Brother Herman had been clear that I would be caring for Mother as part of my duties. Had I realized Sister Bertha might interfere, I would have spoken to Father on our way to breakfast. I sighed when I spotted Brother Herman sitting near the door. He would be out of the dining hall before I could gain his permission.
I took my place at one of the women’s tables and was spreading jam on a thick slice of bread when Sister Hanna approached with a fresh bowl of fried potatoes. She leaned close to my ear. “Do not worry about your Mutter. I will give her gut care while you are at work.”
Sister Bertha had wasted no time passing instructions to Sister Hanna. Perhaps she’d detected my unwilling spirit and worried I would attempt to defy her orders. “Danke,” I whispered. There was nothing else left to do or say. Now that arrangements had been made for Mother’s care, I wouldn’t ask Brother Herman’s permission. I didn’t want Sister Hanna to think me ungrateful. Even worse, I didn’t want her to think I believed her incapable of caring for my mother. For today, I would be compliant. But tonight, I would clarify my work instructions with Brother Herman. My mother’s care was my greatest concern.
After the final prayer, I pushed up from the table and was surprised to see Sister Hanna hurry toward me carrying one of the pails used to deliver meals. My heart soared. Sister Bertha must have changed her mind and decided I should take the food to Mother, but when I reached for the handle, Sister Hanna turned so I could not reach it.
“I will carry the food to your Mutter, but I thought it would be gut if I first went with you to the working men’s quarters. I will introduce you to Sister Margaret.” Her lips curved in a bright smile that revealed her dimple. “It is not so far out of the way for me, and I thought it would make it easier for you if I went along on your first day.”
My spirits plummeted when I realized I’d not be going home, but I thanked Sister Hanna for her kind offer. I had hoped to meet Sister Margaret before commencing my cleaning duties, but when Ritt told me she lived in another part of the village, ate her meals at a different Küche, and attended prayer services near her home, I realized there would be little chance to meet before I began working with her—and I’d been right. Our paths hadn’t crossed. At least not to my knowledge.
“Sister Margaret is close to your own age and very nice, so I think you could become friends. Werner says she is prone to accidents, but I think she sometimes hurries to complete her work and her haste is the cause of the mishaps. She should be able to answer any questions you may have. If not, save them for me, and I will do my best to help however I can.”
“I am thankful for your kindness, Sister Hanna.” Even though I would have preferred to go back and tend to my mother, I knew Sister Hanna would see to her care as well as I could.
“Ja, and I am thankful for the time you take to work with my Madelyn. She is so happy to have you help her with her reading.”
“I’m thankful for her help, as well. Your suggestion that she read from Kinderstimme has proved to be a great help to both of us. The book is teaching me the rules used to guide children in humility and simplicity.” I didn’t mention that I feared young Madelyn had memorized most of the rules and we should move on to something else. For now, we would use the book.
The wooden sidewalk ended and we walked down the dirt road until we neared the three-story brick mill. Sister Hanna pointed to a long frame building not far away. “This is where you will be working.”
As we drew near the door, a loud crash sounded from inside the building. Sister Hanna hurried through the doorway, and I followed close on her heels. I nearly bumped into her when she stopped short.
“Watch out for the water! I spilled both buckets.” A young woman wearing a dark plaid dress pointed to the floor. A brown smudge dirtied one of her cheeks, and strands of blond hair poked out from beneath her bonnet.
The room where Margaret had spilled the water was a large parlor or sitting room of sorts. At one end, there were two wooden tables with chairs around them, likely where the men played cards or wrote letters. Two overstuffed divans and another large chair had been arranged on the other side of the room. Small tables with kerosene lamps sat at either end of the massive divans. Though the room didn’t reflect a great deal of warmth, it provided a place for the men to relax before going to bed, and with windows lining both sides of the room, it was brighter than the rooms where the children attended classes in the orphanage.
Sister Hanna smiled. “Well, you need only add some soap and you can begin to scrub the floors, Sister Margaret.” She took a backward step as the water slowly spread toward her feet. She grasped my arm. “This is Sister Jancey, who has come to work with you. Brother Herman told you about her, ja?”
“Ja, he told me a long time ago. I almost forgot.” She circled around the water. “If you come this way, your shoes will stay dry.”
I bid Sister Hanna good-bye. “If Mother should need me, you’ll send word, won’t you?”
“She will be fine. Now let me get on my way so that your Mutter may enjoy her breakfast before it grows cold.”
Sister Hanna was out the door before I realized she hadn’t agreed to come and get me if Mother should take a turn for the worse. Though I longed to run after her and require she answer me, Sister Margaret had already thrust a scrub brush in my direction.
“It isn
’t the day I usually scrub the floors, but we have to clean up this water. Besides, if we do it now, we won’t have to do it on Friday and maybe we can leave early.” She dropped to her knees without regard for her skirt.
I remained a short distance from the pooling water. “Perhaps if we used a broom or mop to spread the water around a bit, it would be easier and not quite so messy.”
“There’s a broom in the corner of the other room you can use if you like. I’m already wet, so I’ll just keep scrubbing.” She sat back on her heels and signaled for me to wait. “I’ll finish this mess I made with the water. No need for you to get wet, too. You can strip the sheets from the beds and put them in those baskets with the men’s dirty clothes.” She pointed to several large laundry baskets near the door leading outside. “You can use the fresh sheets stacked on that table in the corner to make the beds.”
Carrying a large oval laundry basket in each hand, I strode into the adjoining room and placed one of the handmade baskets on either side of the room. They were sturdier than the ones we’d used at home, but like most things in the colonies, these baskets were woven by an Amana craftsman. They were created to withstand heavy use and endure the test of time.
As I stared at the rows of iron bedframes that lined each side of the room, I recalled the sleeping quarters at the orphanage. The beds in this room were larger and of much better quality than those in the Charity Home, and I quickly observed the sheets and blankets weren’t worn or frayed, either. In addition, bright sunlight shone through the windows above these beds and provided a sense of cheeriness—something the children would have enjoyed. Although the men might have little privacy in this dormitory, their lodging was finer than I’d expected, and much more pleasant than the stark and dreary accommodations provided for the orphan children.
Pulling the sheets from the beds and gathering them in my arms as I went, I made my way down the row of beds. After dumping the dirty linens in one of the sturdy baskets, I continued back up the row of beds on the opposite side of the room. Removing the sheets would take much less time than making each of the beds—especially for me, as I’d had little practice. However, it didn’t appear the beds had been made with a great deal of care, and I doubted the men would expect perfection.
While I snapped a clean sheet in the air and watched it float onto the lumpy hog-hair mattress, I recalled the Bible verse my father had paraphrased earlier in the morning. I stared at the row of beds and wondered if there was any way I could heartily perform this work as an offering to the Lord.
Making the beds had taken longer than I’d expected, but I felt a certain sense of pride as I stood in the center of the room and stared at the perfectly aligned sheets and blankets. Using the corner of my apron, I wiped the perspiration from my forehead.
“They look gut. Better than when I make them, for sure. And you finished much faster, too. My Mutter says I’m slow as a snail, and my Vater says I try to move too fast. I guess they are both right, because when I scurry around I end up with a mess that slows me down.” She glanced toward the other room. “I got the water cleaned up. As soon as it dries, we can dust in there.”
It seemed Sister Margaret understood the cause of her mishaps, but she hadn’t yet decided how to overcome the problem.
“Is there a schedule you use for cleaning, Sister Margaret?”
“Ja, except when I spill water or I drop a stack of folded sheets. Then my schedule is ruined.” She giggled. “We are to scrub the floors and change the sheets once a week. Each day we sweep the floors, dust, straighten anything that is out of order, and put water in the pitchers. If I have time, I straighten the beds, since the men usually leave them unmade.”
“Is that everything?” I inhaled a deep breath.
She shook her head. “Nein. And then there’s washday. We launder the sheets and towels, and some of the men pay to have us wash their clothes.” She pointed to the baskets where I’d placed the sheets. “All of those we will do tomorrow.”
Laundry for all these men? What had I gotten myself into?
Chapter 8
Two weeks later, a letter from Nathan arrived. The envelope was balanced against one of the kerosene lamps in a conspicuous manner, likely the work of my mother, who had inquired about Nathan on several occasions. It seemed she and Father had teamed together to assure themselves I didn’t regret my choice to join them. Neither seemed willing to accept my protestations that their decision hadn’t interfered with plans to marry Nathan—or anyone else, for that matter.
I picked up the letter and tucked it into my pocket before peeking around the corner to see if Mother was awake. Since taking a downward turn, the doctor, Brother Rudolf Zedler, had called upon her each day. And though he couldn’t do anything to cure her, he said we shouldn’t be overly concerned. He believed she would soon feel somewhat better, though he’d advised we should expect these ailing bouts to become more frequent. Father didn’t mention that we’d become quite accustomed to them back in Kansas City, but I could see the worry in his eyes. Like me, he hoped the doctors were wrong and we would see a recovery.
“I didn’t know if I was dreaming or if I heard the door close.” Mother forced a feeble smile. “Did you see the letter from Nathan? What does he have to say?”
I patted the pocket of my dress. “I haven’t yet read it.” Her eyes darted to my skirt. She wanted me to read the letter. Shoving my hand into the pocket, I removed the envelope and slid my finger beneath the seal. After quickly scanning the pages, I shrugged one shoulder. “He says that work is going fine and he has been very busy.”
My mother frowned. “In two pages, that is all he said?”
“He also said that once they have finished all of their work, maybe he will come to Middle Amana for a visit. He asked if I am happy and said that he is still willing to offer marriage if I am so inclined.”
Arching her brows, my mother stared at me. “And since this is not the life you ever intended for yourself, perhaps you shouldn’t refuse his offer. I am feeling very selfish that you have given up everything to come here.” She swiped at a tear that rolled down her cheek.
“Mother, please do not cry. Over and over, I have told you and Father that I have not agreed to marry Nathan. I don’t know him well enough, and we have many differences, both in what we believe and what we desire for the future. I don’t know how I can do anything more to assure you that I came here because I wanted to and I do not count it a sacrifice. If I decide that I can’t be happy in the colonies, I will return to Kansas City. You have my word.”
She inhaled a ragged breath and gave a slight nod. “Good. Then I will not mention this again.” Her eyelids drooped. “Sister Hanna brought me my medicine a short time ago and my eyes are heavy.”
I patted her hand. “You sleep. It is the best medicine.”
Her soft snores reached my ears as I departed the room. I sat down in the parlor and reread Nathan’s letter. He’d mentioned nothing of the children at the orphanage even though he’d promised to visit. Then again, that promise had been made before he truly believed I was going to leave. Pushing up from the sofa, I walked to my bedroom and sat down at the small desk we’d brought from Kansas City. Pulling a sheet of stationery from one of the drawers, I dipped my pen and began a letter to Nathan.
After thanking him for his letter and telling him of Mother’s health and my work, I stared at the page, and then dipped my pen into the inkpot.
I don’t know if you’ve stopped at the Charity Home since I’ve departed, but I’m eager for news of the children. If you have time, I’d be appreciative if you could stop and ask Mr. Ludwig if he would encourage them to write me. I provided him with stamped envelopes prior to our departure. I’d enjoy hearing from Miss Manchester, as well. I don’t want to impose, but I would count it a great kindness if you could look in on the children and give me a short report.
As to your suggestion of a visit, please be aware that the colonies offer little in the way of entertainment. I rec
all how much you enjoyed attending parties and the theater when we first met. This is not a place where you will discover such leisure. Our lives are quite simple, and you will have to make do without many of the conveniences to which you are accustomed. Of course, the final decision is yours.
I looked at the closing at the end of Nathan’s letter and shook my head. Yours always, Nathan. I tried to imagine him hunched over the piece of writing paper while deciding upon the final words to close his letter—much as I’d been doing for several minutes. I doubted Nathan would always be mine, so I needed to select something different. However, if I simply signed it Sincerely or Your friend, he would likely be hurt or take offense. Though I doubted we would have a future together, who could say for sure. Besides, I didn’t relish the idea of hurting Nathan’s feelings.
The sound of my father’s footsteps jarred me to action. The bell would soon ring to announce we should depart for supper. I dipped my pen one last time and scribbled, Always, Jancey. Whether the simple word carried enough benevolence to please Nathan, I did not know. But under the circumstances, it was as much as I thought I should offer.
After the first few nights of Madelyn’s lessons, Ritt had begun to appear. He’d sit quietly and listen while his sister read from Kinderstimme. After she completed her reading, I’d give Madelyn a list of spelling words to practice. Occasionally, he would offer to listen to her spell, but it didn’t take long for me to discover that his spelling wasn’t much better than Madelyn’s. Unless he held the list of words, he didn’t know whether she was right or wrong. Once I’d become aware of his inability to be of genuine assistance, I refrained from accepting any further offers from him.
A Simple Change Page 7
