Although I still missed the children at the orphanage, I’d been heartened to discover my prayers had been answered. Lilly wrote that the Charity Home had finally enlisted the help of a new volunteer teacher. The young woman had taught for several years at a girls’ boarding school in Pennsylvania and recently offered her services to the orphanage. Lilly’s letter bore nothing but praise for the new instructor, a fact that greatly pleased me. In closing, Lilly mentioned the children wanted me to know they liked their new teacher very much.
Over the past months, our ties to Kansas City had slowly dissolved. The sale of Father’s business had been concluded, but Mr. Goodman, Father’s business associate, kept us apprised about both Nathan and Thomas.
Upon his return to Kansas City, Thomas was identified, charged with bank robbery, and convicted at trial. Later, Nathan was convicted of larceny, and both men were sentenced to serve their time at the state prison in Lansing, Kansas. I couldn’t imagine what life was like for Thomas or Nathan behind prison bars, but I continued to pray for them. I also gave thanks that Kathleen had been spared the pain of reconnecting with Thomas, for I was sure life with him would have proved a terrible disappointment.
This evening Ritt and Madelyn walked on either side of me as we returned home from prayer service, while my father, Brother Werner, and Sister Hanna followed behind. I had watched Ritt’s excitement mount over the past weeks as the mill neared completion. And finally, after an inspection a few days ago, the mill had been declared ready to begin production.
Ritt looked at me and grinned. “Tomorrow will be a special day, for sure.”
Earlier in the month, an announcement was made that there would be a special ceremony at the opening of the new woolen mill. We would all gather for a prayer service to consecrate our lives and works to the furtherance of our work and beliefs.
I agreed, though I realized this unusual event would be more special to those who had lived here all of their lives. “Why do you think the elders decided to hold this prayer service?” I asked. “My mother said she had never before heard of such a thing in all her years living here.”
We turned at the next corner, and Madelyn raced ahead of us. Ritt moved closer to my side. “My parents said the same thing. I think this is the first time. Vater believes the elders took to heart the words of Sister Barbara—we must not let material success become the goal of our villages.” He inhaled a deep breath. “And maybe they feel a need to ask for God’s blessing because this is the second fire at the woolen mill.”
I nodded. “Sister Bertha told me about the other fire. I think the prayer service will be beneficial to everyone, especially to those who battled the fire and helped rebuild the mill in such a short time. I know how hard you worked.”
“Ja, but your Vater was a great help with all his knowledge.” Ritt tapped his finger against the side of his head. “I learned a lot from him. He has a gut way of leading men. He is a smart man.”
We parted at the front door, and though I would have enjoyed spending more time visiting, Mother would need my help preparing for bed. We bid each other good-night, with a promise to meet and walk together to the prayer service at the mill tomorrow night.
“I’m home, Mother.” I strode toward the bedroom door. Even in the dim light of the kerosene lamp, I could see a gray tinge to her complexion. “Mother!” I tamped down my rising panic and grasped her hand, but the clamminess of her skin escalated my fear. I leaned close and stroked her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open and she offered a weak smile. “I can see you’re feeling much worse than when we departed for prayer meeting.” She attempted to speak, but even that seemed too great an effort. I turned and poured a small amount of water into her glass. “Would you like a sip of water?”
She groaned, so I took that for a yes. Carefully, I slid my arm beneath her and lifted her shoulders as I held the glass to her lips with my other hand. When I heard the latch on the parlor door clank, I called to my father.
One look at my mother and he was by her side in four long strides. “What happened?”
I shook my head and looked at him. “I don’t know. She took a turn for the worse while we were gone. Do you think she needs the doctor? I could ask Ritt to go for him.”
My father glanced at the bedside table. “Did you give her medicine or just water?”
“Just water.”
I silently scolded myself. My first thought should have been to relieve her pain, as the doctor had instructed us. I handed the small bottle of liquid to my father and waited while he helped Mother with the medicine. He handed me the bottle and I returned it to the table.
“Let’s wait and see if this helps her. If not, we’ll send for Brother Rudolf. I don’t know if there’s anything else he can offer her other than what he’s already provided.”
I murmured my agreement, knowing he was right. Brother Rudolf had already explained that he couldn’t do anything other than help relieve the pain through these final stages of her illness. Still, I always felt better having the doctor come whenever Mother took a downward turn. His reassuring manner and compassion appeared to give her a sense of comfort, and it did the same for me.
I nodded toward the door. “Why don’t you go into the parlor and try to relax? I’ll sit in here and finish some of my mending.” From the stoop of his shoulders and weariness that shone in his eyes, I knew my father needed rest. If Mother had a bad night, he’d get little sleep.
“If you’re sure.” He remained near the bed, his gaze fixed on my mother.
“I’m sure. She’s back asleep now. I’ll keep a close watch. If there’s any change for the worse, I’ll call for you.”
Mother’s condition wasn’t any worse by morning, but it hadn’t improved enough that she could be alone. Father remained with her during the day while I taught at the Kinderschule, but I insisted he go to the special prayer service for the new mill in the evening. After playing an important role in the construction, his presence was more important than mine.
When he returned from the meeting, he came into the bedroom.
“Did all go well?”
“Yes, but I’ll let Ritt tell you about the prayer service. He asked if he could visit with you for a while. I thought the two of you might enjoy a little time together. He’s waiting in the backyard.” My father settled in a chair beside Mother’s bed and placed a worn Bible in his lap.
I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” I whispered.
The corners of his mouth curved in a slight smile. “He’s a fine young man. I know he will make you a good husband. I hope you and Ritt will enjoy the same happiness your mother and I have shared all these years.”
A hint of sadness framed his kind words, and I knew he must be thinking of the years ahead when Mother would be gone. Being without her would surely be hard for him, and I wondered if that was one reason he’d been willing to give up his life in Kansas City. In the colonies he could live a simple life surrounded by those who shared his faith. For Father and for me, I believed it would be easier here in Amana to adjust to the loss we would soon face than it would be anywhere else.
I glanced over my shoulder as I neared the bedroom door. The Bible lay open in my Father’s lap, and he held Mother’s hand while he read aloud from the Psalms.
Tears slipped down my cheeks as I hurried for the door. Outside, I inhaled a deep breath of the evening air and attempted to settle my mournful emotions. Moments later, I spotted Ritt standing beneath a large elm tree.
He strode toward me, his smile fading as he drew closer. When he arrived by my side, he touched his fingers to the dampness on my cheek. “What has caused you to cry? Your Mutter is no better?”
“No.” I forced a smile. “In the past, she has surprised us and regained her strength. I am hopeful she’ll do the same again. When the elders gave us permission to marry, she said she wanted to live long enough to see us wed. I have been praying that would happen, but with this last turn, I’m not certain.” He grasped my
hand, and together we walked to the elm tree. “Tell me about the prayer service.”
His eyes brightened. “The factory workers, village elders, and many others attended. The gathering lasted for more than an hour.” He grinned. “You probably already knew that since you were waiting on your father to return home.”
I agreed, then urged him to continue.
“In their prayers, the elders emphasized the importance of the mill for both the spiritual and earthly survival of our people.” He sighed. “It is a fine line that we must walk. It is important that our goods be of high quality so we can compete and sell to the outside world. The woolen and calico goods provide money to purchase what cannot be produced within the colonies, but we must always keep in mind that an accumulation of large sums of money is not our primary goal. I think the elders wanted to emphasize Sister Barbara’s warnings that we must remain true to our beliefs.”
We sat side by side on the quilt he’d spread beneath the tree, a reminder of the first time we’d sat there with Madelyn and her young friends. So much had happened since then.
Ritt squeezed my hand. “You’re so quiet. What are you thinking?”
“About everything that has changed since my family arrived and about how much I have changed, as well.”
“And you are sad because of all the changes? Are you missing the children at the orphanage and wishing to return?” He looked deep into my eyes. “Do you have regrets about choosing to remain here in the Amana Colonies? Please be honest with me, Jancey. I need to know.”
A nesting bird warbled overhead as if calling to her mate.
“No. I am very happy with my decision to remain here, and I’m especially pleased that we’ll soon be wed.” I shifted on the quilt and faced him. “I will always miss the children at the orphanage, but I know they will be fine without me. They have a new teacher who will nurture and care for them, and I have the children at the Kinderschule. They fill my days with unspeakable pleasure. Except for Mother’s health, I am happy and content.”
Ritt cupped my cheek. “That is gut. Very gut.” Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to mine, and my love for this man—this man who made me feel blessed and more cherished with every moment—deepened along with his kiss.
Ritt never told me if he had spoken to the elders, and I didn’t ask, but two days later the elders spoke to my father and said that after conferring with Brother Rudolf, they all agreed that any additional waiting period should be waived, and Ritt and I could be married. My heart swelled with so much excitement I feared it might burst.
There hadn’t been much time for preparation, but what I’d most wanted was going to happen: My mother would be present to see me marry Ritt. Because she remained bedfast, the elders agreed the ceremony could be conducted in our home.
God had answered my prayer. Though I’d been tempted to seek the elders’ approval for an early wedding, I had resisted. A sense of contentment washed over me as I realized how much my faith had increased during these months in Middle Amana. I had finally learned the importance of relinquishing control and waiting upon God.
Sister Hanna came downstairs to help me prepare. She’d brought with her the dark shawl and black lace cap she’d worn for her own wedding and now offered them to me. Instead of the worry of buying an expensive wedding gown, brides in the colonies wore plain dark dresses and lace caps. Here, dark clothing was worn for marriage, while white was used to clothe the deceased. And though I didn’t look like brides who married in the outside world, I felt as much joy as any woman could possibly experience on her wedding day.
“Let me adjust your shawl and then go show your Mutter.” Sister Hanna shifted the fabric an inch or so before giving an approving nod. “You look lovely.” She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “I am pleased you will soon be Ritt’s wife. I know you will continue to make him very happy.”
“Thank you, Sister Hanna. It means a great deal to have your approval.”
“You have more than my approval, Jancey. You have my love, as well.” She squeezed my hand. “While you visit with your Mutter, I must go to the Küche and speak with Sister Bertha. With so little time to plan, she is worried there will not be enough food for the reception.” Sister Hanna chuckled. “I told her the other Küchebaases would bring food, but she wants the best to come from our kitchen house.”
Compared to the elaborate church weddings in the outside world, wedding ceremonies conducted in the colonies were small and simple, but a large reception was hosted afterward, with the kitchen houses providing refreshments for the afternoon of festivities.
I tiptoed to my mother’s bedside and waited until she opened her eyes. A tiny smile lifted the corners of her lips as I performed a slow pirouette.
“You look like a beautiful Amana bride.” She glanced at the clock. “Is it time for the wedding?”
“Not yet. I thought you might want your shawl and cap, so I came in to help you.” The black cap and shawl cast a gray hue to her pale complexion, and I was once again thankful the elders had granted us permission to marry before a full year had passed.
Soon the members of Ritt’s family, along with my father and Brother Otto, entered the room. Though it seemed odd to have the village pharmacist perform our wedding ceremony, the elders rotated their duties, so I was not surprised to have Brother Otto officiate.
Ritt and I locked eyes as he stepped to my side, and our gazes didn’t waver throughout the brief exchange of vows. Even though the marriage hadn’t taken place in the meetinghouse, we didn’t kiss after the ceremony. It was not the custom here to kiss at a wedding.
As soon as the marriage service was completed, Ritt grasped my hand and whispered. “Come with me.”
Holding tight to his hand, I followed him into the hallway and up the steps. “Why are we going upstairs?”
He glanced over his shoulder and winked at me. “I want a few minutes alone with you so that I can have a proper kiss before we go to the reception.”
Once we stepped into the parlor, he tenderly gathered me in his arms. “You have made me the happiest man alive, Jancey. I hope you will always be content with me.”
I placed my hand over his heart. “I can’t imagine my life without you, Ritt.”
He lowered his head and covered my lips with a lingering kiss that set my stomach whirling in a whole new way. His hands rested on my waist, and my heart fluttered as he looked deeply into my eyes and asked, “What are you thinking?”
I tipped my head and met his ardent gaze. “I am thinking that with you by my side, this change to a simple life will be filled with great joy.” Placing my hands on his shoulders, I lifted on tiptoe and eagerly accepted another passionate kiss.
Special thanks to . . .
. . . My editor, Sharon Asmus, for her generous spirit, excellent eye for detail, and amazing ability to keep her eyes upon Jesus through all of life’s adversities.
. . . My acquisitions editor, Charlene Patterson, for her enthusiastic encouragement to continue writing about the Amana Colonies.
. . . The entire staff of Bethany House Publishers, for their devotion to making each book they publish the best product possible. It is a privilege to work with all of you.
. . . Lanny Haldy and the staff of the Amana Heritage Society, for sharing history of the Amana Colonies.
. . . Peter Holhne, for answering my many questions about the Amana Colonies.
. . . Mary Greb-Hall for her ongoing encouragement, expertise, and sharp eye.
. . . Lori Seilstad, for her honest critiques.
. . . Mary Kay Woodford, my sister, my prayer warrior, my friend.
. . . Above all, thanks and praise to our Lord Jesus Christ for the opportunity to live my dream and share the wonder of His love through story.
Judith Miller is an award-winning author whose avid research and love for history are reflected in her bestselling novels. Judy makes her home in Topeka, Kansas.
Books by
Judith Miller
* * *
FROM BETHANY HOUSE PUBLISHERS
The Carousel Painter
DAUGHTERS OF AMANA
Somewhere to Belong • More Than Words
A Bond Never Broken
BELLS OF LOWELL*
Daughter of the Loom • A Fragile Design
These Tangled Threads
LIGHTS OF LOWELL*
A Tapestry of Hope • A Love Woven True
The Pattern of Her Heart
THE BROADMOOR LEGACY*
A Daughter’s Inheritance
An Unexpected Love • A Surrendered Heart
POSTCARDS FROM PULLMAN
In the Company of Secrets
Whispers Along the Rails • An Uncertain Dream
BRIDAL VEIL ISLAND*
To Have and To Hold • To Love and Cherish
To Honor and Trust
HOME TO AMANA
A Hidden Truth
A Simple Change
www.judithmccoymiller.com
*with Tracie Peterson
Resources: bethanyhouse.com/AnOpenBook
Website: www.bethanyhouse.com
Facebook: Bethany House
A Simple Change Page 28
