My heart beat with such force, I clasped my palm to my chest. “This is terrible news. No wonder you don’t want Mother to know. I won’t speak a word of this. Did you talk to Brother Herman? He knows you’ll be leaving?”
“Yes. As soon as I read the letter, I went to him. He spoke to the other elders in the village, and they are in agreement that I should leave tomorrow. The sooner I go, the sooner I can return.”
Hoping to hide my fear, I swallowed a lump that had settled in my throat. “Why do the police want to talk to you? Since you weren’t in Kansas City when the accident happened, what do they think you can add to their investigation?”
“I have no idea, my dear. There are a multitude of possibilities, but until I talk to them, I can’t be sure.”
I reached for his hand. “What kind of possibilities?” I couldn’t begin to imagine even one.
“I’m sure they’ll question me about my finances. Whenever something like this happens, there’s suspicion someone will benefit financially. And who can say what will happen in regard to those who’ve been injured? Someone will need to take responsibility for medical expenses and the like.” He ran his palm along his jaw. “There are a lot of loose ends that need to be tied together for certain.”
“I’ll be praying that it all goes well and you’ll soon be back home.”
“Thank you, Jancey. It does my heart good to know you’ll be praying for me.” He pushed up from the sofa. “I think I’ll go to bed. Tomorrow will be a long day.” He stopped outside the bedroom door. “If you have letters for me to deliver, be sure you leave them on the table beside the parlor door.”
I settled at the small desk, dipped my pen into the thick, black ink, and began another letter to Nathan. My father would expect it—and so would Nathan.
We had finished breakfast and were on our way to work when I told Ritt my father would be leaving for Kansas City on the midmorning train. I merely stated his presence was required to complete some business matters.
Ritt’s smile faded. “So this means you will not be going to the picnic with me tomorrow?”
“I don’t think it would be wise. Mother wasn’t well enough to come to the Küche this morning, and even if I see some improvement today, I wouldn’t want to leave her alone for so long. Until she is doing better, I’ll need to look in on her more often.”
This wasn’t anything new. Unless Sister Hanna went home between meal preparations at the kitchen house, I often left work to go and check on my mother. When we had free time, Father was there to care for Mother, if needed. With him away, I had no other help upon which I could rely.
“I am disappointed.”
“I am, too.” I gave him a sideways glance. “If I’d known in advance that Father would be away, I wouldn’t have accepted your invitation.”
Stopping along the path, he reached for my hand. “Forgive me. I know you need to care for your Mutter. If my Mutter was ill and needed me, I would do the same.”
As he squeezed my hand, a pleasant sensation raced through me. I could feel the heat radiating up my neck and across my cheeks. “Thank you for being so patient. I truly appreciate your kind manner.”
He grinned. “And why would I be otherwise? You had no way of knowing this would happen.”
He was right, but had I approached Nathan with news that I was going to cancel an outing, he would have pouted for days. I shouldn’t compare the two men, but I found it increasingly difficult not to do so—and Nathan seemed to be coming up short most of the time.
Ritt came to a halt as we neared the mill. “If you should need me while your Father is gone, you can always come to the mill and leave word. There is usually someone near the entrance who would deliver your message.”
“Thank you. I’ll remember that.” Though I remained disappointed I’d miss the picnic, Ritt’s attitude had granted me a sense of relief.
Throughout the day, I made several trips home to check on Mother because Sister Hanna was needed at the kitchen. Though Mother was sad about my father’s departure, her condition remained stable.
As Margaret and I prepared to leave for the evening, she stopped me near the doorway. “I’m looking forward to seeing you at the picnic tomorrow. John Olson will be my escort.” Her cheeks turned pink as she revealed the news to me.
“That’s wonderful, Margaret. I’m so glad for you.” I returned a smile. “Unfortunately, I won’t be there.” When I quickly explained my circumstances, she nodded her understanding. “I hope you have a pleasant time with John.”
“I could ask my Mutter to come and sit with her if you’d like. I think she’d be willing.”
A lump formed in my throat. “That is very generous, Margaret, and I do thank you for the offer, but I don’t want to burden your mother. I’m accustomed to caring for her.”
She bobbed her head. “Ja, I understand, but if you should change your mind, you can have Madelyn bring word to me.”
I was certain I wouldn’t change my mind, but my heart soared with the outpouring of compassion I’d received today. This was what my mother had missed and longed to experience once again—the generosity of spirit that bound this group together as brothers and sisters in Christ.
Chapter 12
The following morning, Ritt was sitting on the steps leading to his family’s rooms upstairs when I arrived. He jumped to his feet. “I hope you don’t mind, but I thought we could walk to the Küche together.”
“It’s a nice surprise to see you waiting for me.” My heart fluttered when he reached forward and squeezed my hand.
He released his hold as we walked outside. “I wish I could hold your hand all the way to the Küche.”
I chuckled. “I don’t think that would be wise.”
“For sure, there would be looks of disapproval if anyone saw us.”
“I think there would be more than looks of disapproval. We would likely be required to explain our behavior to Brother Herman and the other elders.” I shivered at the thought.
Using an exaggerated swoop of his arm, Ritt placed his palm on his heart. “To hold your hand, I would be willing to take such a chance, but I don’t want to get you into any trouble—especially since your Vater is gone and your Mutter is ill.” He continued to press his palm to his chest. “You have my word that I will keep a proper distance.”
Though I murmured my approval, I really didn’t want him to keep his distance. I would have much preferred to feel the warmth and support of his callused hand holding my own. Instead, suitability prevailed and he stuffed his hands into his pockets while I clasped mine in front of my apron.
As we neared the Küche, Ritt gestured for me to slow my step. “I won’t see you after we eat the morning meal since you must take breakfast to your Mutter, but I wanted to tell you that I will bring the noonday meal to you and your Mutter.”
“You don’t need to do that, Ritt. I know you want to go to the picnic with the others. I don’t mind returning to the Küche for our meals.”
His offer was kind, but after work ceased at noon, those who were going on the picnic would stop by the Küche to pick up their baskets of food before departing for the river. Taking time to bring food back to the house meant Ritt would miss joining the others until later in the afternoon.
“I have already told my Mutter that I will come by to fetch meals for you and your Mutter and carry them to the house, so you should not argue with me.”
His lopsided grin warmed my heart. “I will do as you ask. I won’t argue.”
“Gut.”
The final bell tolled as we parted, each of us running in opposite directions. I was the last to enter the women’s door, but Ritt was faster than I—two of the older men followed behind him. Across the expanse that divided our tables, he smiled at me, and again my heart fluttered like the wings of a baby bird attempting to take flight.
As promised, Ritt appeared with two baskets shortly after noon. He handed the smaller one to me. “This is your Mutter’s food. I have our f
ood in this basket.” He lifted the napkin that covered the contents of the smaller basket, and the inviting aroma of cotton soup, a mixture of chicken broth and eggs that had been slightly thickened with flour and butter, wafted toward me. “Sister Bertha sent the soup for your Mutter. She said it was left over from yesterday, but you should make sure she eats it, because soup is the best medicine.” He tapped the handle of the other basket. “There is no soup in our basket.”
“Our basket? I’ve already explained that I can’t go to the picnic by the river with you.”
Did he think that once Mother had finished her meal, I would leave for the remainder of the afternoon? I’d been clear with him. He’d said he understood and admired my willingness to put family first. Why would he believe I’d changed my mind and that sharing a picnic with him would lure me away?
“Nein. Not to the river. We will have our picnic in the backyard. While you help your Mutter with her lunch, I am going to spread a quilt on the grass. Then we can eat our picnic lunch and visit. My Mutter said it would be fine to use one of her old quilts, so you do not need to worry about that.”
In my haste, I’d jumped to an incorrect assumption about Ritt’s intent. Once again, his kind heart and gentle spirit surprised me.
I placed my hand on the large picnic basket. “I want you to take this and go to the river. Enjoy yourself and share your lunch with some of your friends.” As the excitement in his eyes faded, I knew I’d wounded him. “I don’t want you to miss having a wonderful afternoon because of me.”
“Do you not understand that it won’t be a wonderful afternoon unless I am with you? I don’t care about standing at the water’s edge and fishing or sharing my lunch with anyone except you.” He tapped his index finger on the table. “You are here, so this is where I want to be.” When I didn’t immediately respond, he lifted his gaze and looked deep into my eyes. “Unless you do not want to be with me. If that is true, then I will leave.”
“I do want to be with you, but—”
He touched his finger to my lips. “That is all I need to know. I will be waiting in the back of the house. You should take your time helping your Mutter.” At the sound of a soft jangle, I glanced toward his hand. He’d reached into his pocket and removed a small metal bell. “Tell your Mutter to ring this if she needs you. With the window open, we will be sure to hear.” He placed the bell in my hand and clasped his fingers around my hand with a gentle squeeze. “I don’t want you to worry while you are outside.”
His thoughtfulness touched my heart, and tears pricked my eyes. “Thank you, Ritt. It seems that is what I say most often to you, for you are constantly doing things for which I am grateful.”
“It pleases me to help you.” He gestured toward the other room. “Go take the food to your Mutter. I wouldn’t want her to think I forgot to bring her meal.” Holding the large basket in his hand, he turned and strode to the door.
I placed a wooden tray on the table, then poured the soup into a china bowl Sister Bertha had placed at the bottom of the basket. I arranged the silverware atop a neatly folded napkin beside the plate of boiled beef, peas, and creamed potatoes. After placing the small bell beside a cup of tea, I carried the tray into the bedroom.
Mother signaled for me to place the food on a small table that sat adjacent to a nearby chair. “I’d like to sit in the chair to eat. I feel strong enough.”
She’d said the same thing yesterday, but she hadn’t had the strength to make it out of bed. I didn’t argue, for I’d learned such activity depleted energy—both Mother’s and mine. Once she’d come to a sitting position with her legs dangling off the side of the bed, I slipped her feet into a pair of soft slippers.
Her color remained good, but I didn’t want to take a chance. “Do you feel strong enough to walk to the chair?”
She nodded. I was surprised at the strength she exhibited as I helped her settle in the chair. Her gaze drifted over the tray while she arranged the cloth napkin on her lap. Using her thumb and forefinger, she lifted the small bell and gently moved it back and forth until the tiny clapper struck metal with a soft chime. She looked up at me and smiled. “Have we hired a maid?”
I chuckled and shook my head. “No. Ritt brought it when he delivered your lunch. He thought it would be helpful. If I’m not nearby, you can ring the bell to alert me. It will prove useful at night, too. While Father is away, you can summon me. I’ve been worried I wouldn’t hear you call when I’m asleep.”
“He’s a thoughtful young man.” She handed me the bell. “Why don’t you put it on my bedside table? And do thank him when you see him this evening.”
I positioned the bell on her table. “I’ll tell him as soon as you’ve finished eating and have returned to bed.”
“How so? I thought he was going to the river with the other young people.”
“He was, but he decided to bring a picnic to the backyard. He asked me to join him so we could visit and enjoy the afternoon.” A rush of heat ascended my neck and spread across my cheeks. “I told him he should go to the river, but he insisted.”
She swallowed a spoonful of soup. “Do you like him?”
I turned and busied myself straightening the bedsheets. “Yes, of course. As you said, he’s very thoughtful and kind.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I saw you blush when I asked about your feelings for him.” She pointed her spoon toward the bed. “Sit down so I can see your face when we talk.”
I sat down, folded my hands in my lap, and waited.
“While I eat my lunch, you can tell me about your feelings for this young man. Do be honest with me. You know I can always tell when you’re avoiding the truth.” She took a bite of the creamed potatoes. “Has this young man captured your interest?”
“Yes, he has. I like him very much. In many ways, he reminds me of Father. He has a kind and generous heart, and he isn’t critical in the least. Not that he doesn’t speak the truth, he does. But he is never harsh or insensitive.” My mother continued to eat while I listed Ritt’s attributes. “I don’t mean to make him sound as though he has no faults—I’m sure he has as many as the next person, but he exhibits the virtues that are important to me.”
My mother looked over the rim of her teacup. “Important in a friend or in a husband?”
“B-both. Wasn’t Father your friend before you considered him a man you would want to marry?”
Placing the teacup on the matching saucer, she nodded. “Yes, but your father and I weren’t living in two different worlds at the time. We had both grown up and lived our entire lives in the colonies.”
“Ritt and I aren’t living in two different worlds, either. We are both living in the colonies.” There was little doubt what she was thinking, but I didn’t want to hear words of discouragement.
“I don’t want either of you to suffer the consequences of a broken heart.” Her forehead creased with concern. “And what about Nathan? I thought the two of you might marry one day.”
“I never . . .”
She waved me to silence. “He called on you at least one or two times a week until you told him you’d decided to come with us to Iowa. What else was I to think?”
“He was persistent. And he does have some good qualities. But Nathan changed. During the months before we departed, he was more interested in Father’s business than in me. At least that’s how I felt. I began to wonder if the business was more important to him than our relationship. Even though he’d been calling on me for some time, I began to doubt that I truly knew him. He’s ambitious, and while that can be a good trait, it never appealed to me. Of course, I don’t think I’ll ever find a man more determined to marry me. Perhaps this time apart will help us discover whether we have any foundation for a life together.”
“I suppose I took too much for granted.” My mother frowned. “So now you believe Ritt may be a better match for you?”
“I’m not sure, but I find he has many more qualities that appeal to me.”
“I do, Mother. It is not my intention to hurt him.”
She extended her hand. “Help me back into bed, and then you should go downstairs before the ants have eaten your dinner.”
Ritt sat with his back against the fat trunk of a large elm. His straw hat was pushed forward to block the sunlight from his eyes, and his left arm rested atop the picnic basket. He’d fallen asleep while waiting for me.
A branch cracked beneath my shoe when I approached, and he startled. His hat tumbled to the ground as he straightened his shoulders. I gestured toward the basket. “I’m pleased to see you were protecting our lunch from any stray animals.”
“A man who falls asleep doesn’t offer much protection, so I’m glad there were no attacks.” He chuckled and placed a hand on his stomach. “I’m glad you’re here. My stomach has been telling me it’s past time to eat.”
Hands on hips, I feigned indignation. “And how could you hear your stomach when you were asleep?”
We laughed together as I sat down beside him and lifted the napkin from atop the basket. Such a simple thing—enjoying a picnic in the backyard while birds twittered overhead. I couldn’t recall an outing with Nathan when I’d experienced such anticipation and happiness. Though we’d attended the theater and dinner parties and taken walks in the park, none of those occasions had been joyful. Instead of pleasure, there seemed always to be a hint of reserve—on both of our parts. Would things be different if I allowed myself to relax in Nathan’s company?
A Simple Change Page 11
