As she pulled on her stockings, she glanced over at the book on the nightstand, tempting her to read just one more page.
She’d meant to read only a few pages last night, but she couldn’t seem to break herself from the story. The plight of Eliza and little Harry captured her heart, and she rushed through the words, and then the pages, like a thirsty traveler in search of a stream.
She wanted to know what happened to Eliza and Harry and Tom.
And she wanted answers to the call on Friedrich’s life.
She tucked the book back into her trunk and rushed down to the dining hall.
Men and women alike streamed into the dining room, minutes before the bell tolled. There was no time to think about Friedrich or the book.
Karoline was on one of the benches this morning, beside her mother, and Matthias sat with the other men. Amalie smiled at Karoline, ignored Matthias Roemig. And she pretended she was a queen, reigning over her little kingdom.
* * * * *
Bowls of sliced strawberries brightened the plain breakfast table along with silver pots of steaming coffee. Matthias spooned strawberries onto his oatmeal and quickly ate the food. Then he gulped down the coffee and stood up before Sophia tried to pour him a second cup.
As he pushed through the dining room, he didn’t even glance toward the kitchen. He thought it would be easy for him to ignore Amalie, especially when she hid herself away in the kitchen, but he knew she was there. Her very presence unnerved him.
This morning he would ask Brother Schaube if he could begin eating at one of the other kitchens. He wished he could think of a reason to convince the elders to send Amalie to another village to work or convince them to send him away instead, but they would ask questions, and he couldn’t share the animosity in his heart with them.
The other six villages were all expanding like Amana—most of them probably needed carpenters even more than the main village. With Friedrich gone now, there was no reason for him to stay here. After Hilga and her parents arrived, maybe the elders could send the entire Vinzenz family to West or South Amana. The farther away he was from Amalie, the better it would be for all of them.
During their meeting this morning with Brother Schaube, he would volunteer to work outside Amana.
Swinging open the door from the dining room, he hurried toward the woolen mill. The sun glowed a vibrant red on the horizon.
Hilga would arrive in Amana within the month, and he needed to focus his mind and his prayers on what to do about their future together.
Carl and Louise expected Matthias to ask for their daughter’s hand in marriage this fall. He didn’t know what Hilga thought about marrying him. Neither of them wrote many letters, perhaps because neither of them knew what to say. They hadn’t talked much while they were in Ebenezer, and their communication had been even more limited since he and Friedrich came to Iowa.
Before Friedrich left for the war, he kept Matthias informed about what was happening in his family, always hinting at the future. Sister Louise often wrote Matthias directly as well, with breezy stories and encouragement for him. There was no blood line connecting Matthias to the Vinzenz family, but he’d thought of Sister Louise and Carl Vinzenz as his parents since he was a child. He would always be grateful to the Vinzenz family for welcoming him into their home and asking him to call them Mama and Papa.
Matthias turned off the main street, moving quickly toward the hum of mill machinery and the hiss of steam, steady sounds that inspired the entire village to work hard at whatever task was assigned them.
As he approached the mill, he recalled the excitement in Friedrich’s eyes whenever he talked about Amalie. Ever since the elders received the telegram that Amalie left Ebenezer, Friedrich had been counting down the days, and sometimes hours, until her arrival. With the exception of his service to God, there was nothing more that Friedrich wanted than to see his future wife.
Matthias wasn’t like that about Hilga. Instead of counting the days in anticipation, he dreaded the passing of each day. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do when she arrived. He couldn’t imagine himself married to her—she was six years younger than him, born the year after he arrived in the Vinzenz home.
Just as Friedrich had been like a brother to him, Hilga had been his sister, and he regarded her not only as a sister in Christ but like a blood sister whom he loved and teased. But he would do just about anything for any of the Vinzenz family, even if it meant marrying Hilga if she wanted to marry him.
And if he married, perhaps it would stop the conflict in his heart.
Matthias stepped into the addition on the woolen mill and took a smaller plane out of his tool chest to work on the lumber for the floor. He began smoothing it across the piece of oak, slowly but firmly scraping it into conformity with the others.
This floor was almost finished, and when he was done, he would begin working on the floor upstairs. Carpentry was engrained in him like the fibers in wood. He couldn’t explain it, but the work was part of who he was. Making things fit together, smoothing the pieces of wood from the sawmill, and fitting the tongues and grooves together like a giant jigsaw puzzle gave him peace. And that’s what he needed today. Peace.
The door opened, and a small crew of workers walked into the large room with Brother Schaube and two other elders. Matthias stood up and joined the group of men to hear about their tasks for the day. The elders had created a detailed plan for the village, and he and the other workers felt privileged to be able to use their skills to create buildings for their fellow brethren to work and worship and rest their heads.
He’d hoped to be able to speak to Brother Schaube in private, but perhaps it would be better to ask his questions with the others around.
“You men have worked hard and well this summer,” Brother Schaube said with a pleasant smile. The man always seemed to be smiling, and sometimes Matthias found himself jealous of the joy that seemed to envelop him. “The addition to the woolen mill is almost complete, and we need to begin assigning some of you to new projects.”
Brother Schaube unfolded a piece of paper. “We need to begin the bakery in West Amana,” he said, and then assigned two masons to set the sandstone.
Next he called one of the newly arrived men forward—John Keller—and assigned him and another man to begin building a hotel in the village of Homestead for the visitors that came by train to purchase wool or flour or calico from their mill or just to experience a taste of communal living.
Matthias stepped forward, waving his hand at Brother Schaube. “I would be glad to go to Homestead as well.”
Brother Schaube glanced down at the paper and then looked back at him. “I already have an assignment for you, Matthias.”
His heart beat faster. “Is it in Homestead?’
Brother Schaube shook his head.
“But there is nothing to keep me in Amana,” Matthias said. “I can take an assignment in any of the other villages.”
Brother Schaube raised his eyebrows. “I appreciate your willingness to go, Matthias, but we need you here.”
“Perhaps I could work on the new hotel in Homestead when the addition on the woolen mill is complete.”
Brother Schaube shook his head.
“We no longer need you working on the woolen mill.”
Matthias didn’t move. He prayed that Brother Schaube assigned him to work on the blacksmith shop or a new barn. Anything but—
“The elders and I need you and Niklas Keller to work on the new kitchen house.”
Matthias’s fingers clenched the wooden plane in his hand. He wanted to run out of this building, all the way to South Amana or Marengo or even back to Ebenezer. He could work any place, except on Amalie’s kitchen.
“We should finish the woolen mill before we start a new project,” Matthias persisted, ignoring the gazes of the men around him. Volunteering to take another’s assignment was respectable, but it was unacceptable to persist in questioning an assignment, especially for an unmar
ried man who wasn’t trying to work close to his wife or children.
At this moment, he didn’t care much about protocol. He might not be able to leave the colony like Friedrich did, but he could find a way to avoid Amalie.
“Without your carpentry work, Matthias, we won’t have enough room to feed all the new arrivals from Ebenezer.”
Matthias pointed at one of the other men. “Gottlieb would do a better job than I would.”
Brother Schaube eyed him for a moment before he assigned Gottlieb and two other men the work of completing the woolen mill.
Matthias stepped backward, away from the others, as he tried to rid himself of the feelings that raged within him every time he thought about Amalie. Even when he was angry at her. It only made it worse knowing he might pass her along the street or see her at their meal or evening prayers.
If Brother Schaube knew what was happening inside him, he would send him away or he would relocate Amalie to a kitchen outside Amana. How could he tell this man that he didn’t trust himself to be near Amalie Wiese? Or that he was hopelessly in love with his best friend’s future wife?
He had loved her since he was fourteen and he hated himself for it. He thought he had outgrown his ridiculous schoolboy feelings, but his mind was battling once again against his heart. He couldn’t let her—or Brother Schaube—know of his struggle.
Brother Schaube dismissed the men, but as Matthias reached his tool chest, the man called out to him. The two of them walked outside the building and sat on a bench.
“You are troubled,” Brother Schaube started.
The elder had a keen ear to the heart and mind of God. If only Matthias could mask his heart so the man couldn’t peer inside and see the wickedness that permeated it.
“I miss Friedrich,” he said.
“Ja,” he replied. “It is hard for all of us, but I need you working in Amana right now.”
Matthias wanted to protest again, but he had no good reason to avoid this responsibility. “Could I make a request?”
“Certainly.”
“I would like to eat at one of the other kitchen houses instead of Sister Henriette’s.”
The elder’s eyebrows slid up again. Matthias knew the request was irregular—kitchen houses were assigned to each member—but he was fighting to keep himself intact.
“I realize Sister Henriette is not the best cook in Amana, but her food is tolerable,” Brother Schaube said.
“It’s not because of her cooking.”
“Then what is it?”
“I—” he started and wished he had thought through a better excuse before he approached the elder. “Eating there reminds me of Friedrich.”
“That is a good memory, I hope.”
He nodded, but he wanted to shake himself. This wasn’t going at all how he planned.
“You can’t run away from your problems, Matthias. Eating at a new kitchen won’t make you miss him any less.”
Eating at a different kitchen might not make him miss Friedrich any less, but it would help him control his mind.
“But—”
The elder stopped him. “People will think you are switching because of Sister Henriette’s food, and we can’t have people changing dining rooms because they don’t enjoy the meals.”
He sighed. “When do you want me to start working on the new kitchen?”
“This morning,” Brother Schaube said. “It must be ready when the others arrive.”
Matthias stuck his hands in his pockets and walked back toward the building.
How was he supposed to avoid Amalie Wiese if he was required to spend the next month eating at Henriette’s…and building Amalie her own kitchen?
In our earthly tribulation, as well as at triumphant goal,
We praise Thee, Lord of all creation, with
all our mind and heart and soul.
Eberhard Ludwig Gruber
Chapter Twelve
Amalie slipped the bread loaf into the folds of calico that lined a willow basket. Then she took another basket off a hook and filled it with bottles of homemade brew. On the wooden table were two blocks of hand cheese wrapped in brown paper, and the moment she reached for one, Henriette called over her shoulder.
“Don’t forget to pack the Handkäse.”
Amalie bit her tongue as she placed the cheese into the basket. She’d spent almost ten years working in a communal kitchen; she knew how to put together a basket for the snack they served every morning between breakfast and the midday meal. Her tongue fought against her, wanting to retort, but she couldn’t risk Henriette complaining to the elders about her insubordination.
“I’ve got everything in the baskets,” Amalie responded as politely as she could muster.
Henriette scooted toward her, her wide hips bumping Amalie aside. But she remained close to the baskets as Henriette unfolded the calico and counted the items Amalie had placed inside. Then she added another bottle of beer to the five Amalie already packed.
“Good enough,” Henriette said with a clap.
Amalie sighed as the woman placed water onto the stove so she could boil potatoes for the noon meal. The brethren wouldn’t arrive for three more hours to eat, but with three meals and two snacks to prepare each day, there was very little time for the kitchen workers to rest or to eat. It was a continual cycle of cooking and cleaning and then time to begin cooking again.
Sophia tapped her fingers on the table, and Amalie pushed both baskets toward her. The girl looped the handles over her arms.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” Sophia said.
Henriette reached out and grabbed the girl’s arm. “Not today, Sophia. I want Amalie to deliver the baskets.”
“Oh, no—” Amalie protested.
Henriette turned Sophia’s shoulders toward the sink. “I need you to help with the dishes.”
Sophia groaned. “But I always take the snack to the mill.”
“And I always have to come searching for you an hour later.”
Sophia eyed the baskets on the table like she was tempted to grab them and run. “I will return right away.”
“Not today, Sophia.” Henriette shot Amalie a stern look, her eyebrows raised. “Amalie needs some fresh air.”
Amalie hated to admit it, but the woman was right. Her entire trip she’d looked forward to resuming her work in a kitchen, but with the weight of her disappointment and the weariness of her travels and then her late night reading, she was struggling to stay alert.
She’d like to be excused to rest, but she would never admit her weariness to Henriette. Maybe the fresh air would revive her.
Sophia protested one last time as Amalie pulled on her sunbonnet, but Henriette didn’t relent. Instead, she turned to Amalie. “Don’t dally at the mill, Amalie.”
“There’s no reason for me to dally.”
At eight thirty, it was already warm outside, though not nearly as hot as the kitchen. Clouds were building overhead to create a gray haze that Amalie hoped would protect the workers from the intensity of the afternoon sun.
As she strolled past the brewery and general store, she marveled at all the work the men had done since they purchased this land eight years ago. Not only had they transformed the fields and trees of the river valley into a town, they’d created a community.
Several visitors passed her on the wooden sidewalk, displaying hooped dresses like the ones she’d seen on the giant doll in Lisbon, except these women were adorned with ribbons and bows, and parasols to keep the sun off their pale complexions. The bright colors of the silk and chemise seemed frivolous and worldly, compared to the dark, simple wardrobe worn by the Inspirationist women. And these visitors looked at her the same way the women had done in Lisbon, like she was an oddity in her calico dress and draping sunbonnet. They didn’t seem to realize that here in Amana, they were the oddly clothed ones.
Sophia told her that visitors came often to do business at the mills. Others came out of curiosity to see what type of people lived in a
communal society. It seemed like the shopkeeper in Lisbon was right—even though they’d come all the way to Iowa to get away from the world, the world couldn’t leave them alone. It was almost as if the very fact they were seeking seclusion intrigued outsiders, making it seemingly irresistible for them to impose on her community.
Visitors didn’t understand the bond of their society or the durability of their faith. They didn’t understand that the plain clothes the Inspirationists wore only strengthened this bond. None of the men or women were above or below the other in rank or in wealth. They wore the same style of dress, ate the same food, worshiped the same way, slept in the same type of room. And in their sameness, they loved and cared for one another, not because of what they did or how they looked, but because each member was valued as a child of God.
Amalie passed by the butcher shop and the saddle shop and then she heard the steady rhythm of hammer against iron in the blacksmith shop. Ripened fruit and freshly cut grass sweetened the air, even in the village, and she drank in the aroma. Everything about the village celebrated the beauty of life, a celebration of God’s goodness.
Just weeks ago, Friedrich had been walking down this street, smelling the fruit and the grass. Even though he wasn’t here with her today, she felt the shadow of his presence in the village. He’d helped build these shops and plant the crops of rye and wheat in the fields behind them. He’d walked down this street many times before her, drinking in the sights and the blessed sounds of peace and prosperity given to them by their heavenly Father.
At the eastern edge of town the pleasant scents of fruit and bread deteriorated into more rancid smells from the barnyard. Above her, the bleating of sheep rained down from the smaller village of East Amana. The green hills were speckled with the animals, and she saw the giant barn above that housed them.
One day, after she’d recovered from her weeks of travel, she would walk to the other villages in the Kolonie and visit her school friends as well as friends of her parents and the Vinzenz family.
Love Finds You in Amana Iowa Page 11
