“Eli!” someone shouted from inside the house. The boy grinned and raced back into the log house.
“You’ll never get that back,” Sergeant Mitchell said.
“Oh, he’ll bring it back,” Friedrich said. “Once he shows his mama.”
Sure enough, the boy raced back outside moments later to return the hat, leaving the door into the shack open. As Friedrich replaced the cap on his head, the sergeant mumbled something about lice. Friedrich shook his head, smiling. Lice was the least of their worries.
Lightning flashed across the sky, and Friedrich glanced at the doorway of the shack. Rain began to sprinkle down as he and Sergeant Mitchell lifted the stretcher, rushing the man into the house.
It took a moment for Friedrich’s eyes to adjust to the dim light inside the room. An elderly woman sat on a chair in the dark corner while Eli and a little girl played by her feet on the dirt floor. A fire smoldered at the other end of the room, stifling the room with its heat. A young woman dressed in rags stirred something in a ceramic pot, and Friedrich’s stomach growled at the smell.
Rain beat against the roof and raced across the floor in small streams. It dripped through the cracks in the walls as well, as if it were perspiring from the stress of the storm.
Friedrich’s mind wandered back again to the beautiful homes in Amana, each room neatly swept and cleaned. The bountiful gardens and valleys and all the beauty. There was nothing on this Georgia plantation except loneliness and despair.
“Haven’t you heard about the Emancipation Proclamation?” Sergeant Mitchell asked the woman cooking over the fire.
A wooden spoon in one hand, the other on her hip, she turned to him. “The what?”
“The President—” Sergeant Mitchell began. “Lincoln has declared that all the slaves in the South are free.”
“Free?” The elderly woman clapped her hands. “The good Lord be praised.”
The younger woman stared at both of them, her hair pulled back in a handkerchief. “The other soldiers say we be free.”
Friedrich looked across the bare surroundings. “Then why are you still here?”
She shrugged. “Where we s’pose to go?”
Friedrich glanced at the sergeant, hoping he would provide an answer. Friedrich had been wondering the same thing himself.
“We will come back for you, ma’am, when this war is over,” Sergeant Mitchell said. “To take you north so you can find work.”
She shook her head, turning back to the pot. “Something’s gonna happen to you ‘fore this madness end.”
“If we can’t come back for you, we’ll send someone,” the sergeant insisted.
Eli stood up beside Friedrich, his hands stuck in his pockets. “I’m gonna take ‘em north.”
“Are you now?” Friedrich said, bending down again toward him. “How old are you, Eli?”
He shrugged. “ ‘Bout five, I s’pose.”
“You have to be seven to guide someone up north.”
“I be seven soon.” He flashed a look toward the woman by the fire. “Won’t I, Mama?”
When she didn’t respond, Friedrich put his hand on Eli’s shoulder. “Until you turn seven, you better wait here. The war will be over soon, and then you can travel wherever you want without a guide.”
The woman muttered something as she turned toward the fire, seeming to confide in her pot instead of in them. She didn’t trust him or the sergeant, and why should she? They didn’t know when they would make it back to the camp or if they would make it back alive.
In the middle of the crowded floor, the man on the stretcher moaned and then coughed, tossing his head from side to side. Friedrich knelt beside him, wishing he could lessen his pain. As he drifted into consciousness, the man cursed the very God who’d made him. Friedrich cringed at his words. He didn’t know what he would do if he were ever in so much pain, but he prayed he wouldn’t curse God. He wanted to bless the name of his heavenly Father, even in his death. He didn’t have the courage to praise God in the face of death by his own strength though. The Spirit would have to help him be strong.
The elderly woman reached for Friedrich’s hand as if she felt the turmoil going on inside him. “God bless you, my son.”
“I wish I could take you all with me today,” he said as she stood up, and she squeezed his hand even tighter.
She reached forward, her eyes staring into space, and at that moment he realized she was blind. She held her hand out and patted his chest. “You take us all right here in your heart,” she said. “You keep fightin’ for us.”
He cleared his throat, wishing he had the right words to say. “I’ll keep fighting for you.”
“And we grateful, son. Eternally grateful.” She smiled. “My years ain’t long on this here earth, but I can see the glimmer on those pearly white gates in the distance and they sure is pretty.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He wished he could get a glimpse into her blindness and see those pearly gates as well. He could only imagine what a sight it must be to see the gates of heaven. To see their Savior.
The wounded man shouted out again as he sat up, his arms flailing as he called for a woman named Liza. Then, with a final scream, he fell back onto the floor.
Eli and the little girls stopped playing. The woman stopped stirring. The elderly woman dropped her hand back into her lap, praying softly under her breath—she could probably feel the shadow of death in this room.
Friedrich hung his head, not knowing what to do or say. After he’d risked his life to rescue this man, killing another to save him and then carrying him through the forest to get him to a hospital, he had slipped away.
Friedrich stumbled back against the rough logs. God’s will had been done today, no matter how hard it was to accept. There was nothing else he could do. Except—
Leaning forward, Friedrick patted the man’s shirt until he found the small silver disc pinned inside his chest pocket. The man’s name was Jonathan Everett.
There was nothing Friedrich could do to bring Jonathan back, but the soldiers could bury him on the estate and then they would find the camp so they could deliver the disc to their commander. If not, Liza would spend her life wondering if Jonathan was coming back to her.
The elderly woman leaned forward in her rocker. “Is he a friend of yours?”
“Not a friend, but he was still my brother.”
She sighed. “A lot of people are dyin’ on account of us slaves.”
“You were never a slave in God’s eyes.” Friedrich reached down and took her hand again. “Nor in mine.”
Her vacant eyes filled with tears again, and he could feel her tiny hand trembling in his. “This man paid a high price for my freedom. His life, it gone from him, and it don’t sound like he a-seein’ them pearly gates ahead.”
Friedrich didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what was in the man’s heart or if he knew their Savior. His curses must have boiled up from anger, burning those in its wake. But how could he curse God before he died? How could he be so angry at the God who created him?
“You keep them eyes on Jesus,” the woman said. “You keep focused on Him instead o’ the pain in this world.”
He nodded though she couldn’t see him. He had to keep his eyes on the Savior or he wouldn’t be able to make it through the war.
* * * * *
“He’s going to starve himself half to death,” Sophia said as she cleaned the few scraps off a plate and then scrubbed it in soapy water at the sink by the window.
“Matthias will do what he wants to do,” Amalie said. It was almost like the man enjoyed the secrets that enveloped him.
“He has to eat sometime.”
Amalie dipped the plate into the clean water and then dried it with a towel. She didn’t want to talk with Sophia about Matthias or his lack of appetite. She already felt guilty that her arrival seemed to push him away from the kitchen house and the food he needed to sustain him and his hard work.
She still couldn’t un
derstand why he hated her so. A decade ago they’d been the best of friends—she and Friedrich and Matthias. Unmarried men and women were not supposed to mingle together in the Kolonie, but back when they were children, they’d traveled together from Germany to the States by steamer. Matthias tried to distract her and Friedrich from their nausea by playing games and making up stories about the sea and the giant waves. In Ebenezer they’d played together every day after school, like siblings.
But then the boys turned fourteen and went to work at the mill in Ebenezer. Matthias began learning carpentry from Friedrich’s father, and Friedrich was assigned to apprentice with the clockmaker. They’d become men while she was still a girl.
Once they all reached adulthood, they could no longer take her fishing with them or sledding in the snow. They no longer played for hours after school or concocted silly pranks to test on their schoolmaster.
Sophia didn’t seem to care about Amalie’s lack of interest in the discussion. She prattled on like a schoolgirl herself. “I suppose he lost his appetite when Friedrich left for that”—she lowered her voice— “for that war. He and Matthias were always together, at prayer and at meals and even working together when they could. We all miss him, but Matthias probably misses him most of all.”
Amalie’s heart cramped. “I think I might miss him a little more than Matthias.”
Sophia reached over, patting Amalie’s sleeve with her soapy hand. “Of course you do. I didn’t mean any offense. I’m just wondering why Matthias won’t eat.”
Sophia reached for another dish. “Henriette told me all about how Friedrich’s family took in Matthias while they were still in Germany. She said Matthias’s mother was a witch or something and that she didn’t particularly care who reared him as long as she didn’t have to do it herself.”
“Neither you nor Henriette should be repeating those crazy rumors.”
“Crazy?” Sophia asked, sliding her eyebrows up. “I think it’s mysterious. Romantic.”
“I doubt Matthias agrees.”
“So he was abandoned as a baby?”
“I—I don’t know,” Amalie stammered.
She should know the answer, she’d certainly spent enough time with Matthias when they were young, but she’d never asked because Matthias had never wanted to talk about his family.
Matthias had lived with the Vinzenzes for as long as she could remember. When they traveled to America, their new community became family. Most of them never discussed the relatives they left behind.
“Matthias just turned twenty-six,” Sophia said.
“You aren’t old enough to marry him.”
“Who said I was talking about marriage?” the young woman asked, like she was shocked by Amalie’s question.
While men had to wait until they were twenty-four to marry, the minimum age for a woman to marry was twenty. But they could become engaged before this age, as Amalie had been when Friedrich asked for her hand. And there were probably many women like Sophia who hoped Matthias might ask for them as well before they turned twenty.
“I wasn’t talking about marriage, but just suppose,” Sophia continued. “Do you think Matthias would wait a year to marry me?”
She shook her head. “He’s already planning to wed this fall.”
Sophia dropped the plate in her hand, and the ceramic shattered in pieces across the floor. Before either of them could speak, Henriette ran in from the dining room with her broom in hand. She waved the handle toward the floor.
“What are you doing?”
Sophia eyed Amalie like it was her fault, but Amalie didn’t answer the question for Sophia. Instead she took another plate out of the tepid water and dried it.
Sophia held up a hand, lathered with soap. “It slipped out of my fingers.”
“There’s a reason God gave you two hands, Sophia.”
Sophia put both hands behind her.
With an irritated glance at Amalie, Henriette swept up the broken plate and dumped the pieces outside in the trash barrel. As she marched back toward the dining room, she swiveled to face them again. “Do you think you two can avoid breaking anything else while I finish sweeping under the benches?”
Sophia muttered that she’d be more careful, but Amalie didn’t respond. She wasn’t responsible for breaking a dish. Sophia and her ridiculous expectations were responsible.
Brother Schaube had said the kitchen house would be finished soon, and she could hardly wait until she could begin doing dishes in her own sink and cook on her own stove. She would motivate her assistants, but she would never berate them. As long as she had women like Karoline working with her, there would be no reason to ever reprimand them. But if she had an assistant like Sophia…
She didn’t know what she would do.
When they were finished cleaning the dishes, she would take Matthias a snack. He might not like her presence, but he never returned the food she brought him.
Beside her, Sophia scrubbed a plate so hard that Amalie thought she might break it as well. “Be careful,” Amalie said as she reached for it. She slipped the dish into the rinse water.
“Who is he going to marry?” Sophia’s whisper sounded more like a hiss.
“I thought everyone knew.”
“We all knew you were engaged,” Sophia said. “Friedrich couldn’t stop himself from talking about you, but Matthias—Matthias has never mentioned leaving behind someone in Ebenezer.”
Amalie sighed. That’s what happened when you maintained communities in two different places. Rumors blazed across the miles while the truth was often blocked at the state lines.
“He’s intending to marry Friedrich’s sister.”
“Hilga?” Sophia asked as she put the last dish into the water. “She’s a year older than me.”
Amalie nodded. “Marrying age.”
“Why didn’t he tell us he was engaged?”
“Did you ever ask him?”
“Of—of course not. It’s not a question one asks.”
“It might have been a good question, though, before you decided you wanted to marry him.”
And must thou suffer here and there
Cling but firmer to His care.
Paul Gerhardt
Chapter Seventeen
“Matthias?” Amalie called from the open doorway of the kitchen house.
His heart lurched at the sound of her voice and then he sighed as he moved away from the board he’d been sawing.
He’d done everything he could to convince Amalie to leave him alone, yet she persisted in bringing him food when he missed a meal. Not that he didn’t appreciate the food—he did—but he didn’t want her to be the one bringing him meals. He’d tried to make it clear to her without being cruel. Perhaps he hadn’t been clear enough.
When Amalie stepped inside the frame of the house, she slipped her sunbonnet off her head, over her shoulders. Her light-brown hair fell in light wisps under her cap, escaping from the bun at the nape of her neck. It was as if she didn’t even know how beautiful she was.
He cleared his throat. “Amalie—”
“You missed breakfast again this morning.”
“I woke up late.”
“Then you missed lunch as well.”
“It’s none of your business when I eat or if I eat.”
She set her basket on the sawhorse. “I’m not here to bother you, Matthias. Just to make sure you get some food.”
He shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”
“Well, that’s good because all I have is ham and bread today anyway.” She unwrapped the food. His stomach rumbled. “Maybe Niklas would want it for a snack.”
“I’ll eat it,” Niklas called from behind him.
When two of the workers laughed at Niklas, Matthias reached into the basket and snatched up the food. Amalie tried—and failed miserably—to hide her grin.
“I’ll take it to Niklas,” he said.
Her smile fell. “You need to eat,” she whispered to him.
He didn’t want to hear the concern in her voice, didn’t want her to care.
He pushed her toward the door so the other men couldn’t hear them talk. It was enough for him to see her in the eleven prayer meetings they had every week and at breakfast and supper when he must eat. He didn’t want her visiting him at the kitchen house too.
Amalie reached for her basket, draping the handle over her arm, and together they stepped outside, away from the building and ears of the other workers.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You can’t come here anymore, Amalie.”
“Why not?”
“You’re—you’re distracting my men from their work.”
Red streaked up her face as she glanced back toward the door. She hesitated for a moment before she began speaking again. “I’ll stop coming if you’ll stop working long enough to eat at the dining room.”
“I’m not your responsibility, Amalie.”
“Heaven forbid if you were,” she said. “I can just drop the basket off at the door. I won’t disturb you or your men.”
Irritation flamed within him. He had done everything he could to discourage her, but she wouldn’t be deterred.
“I don’t want you around here.” His words came out as a growl, but he didn’t care.
“Someone needs to feed you.”
“I don’t want it to be you!”
Her lips pinched together, but she didn’t say anything.
His heart seemed to tear within him. He wished Amalie were bringing the meals because she wanted to see him, but even that thought was wrong, terribly wrong. What would Friedrich think if he knew he’d even entertained that thought?
Dear God, Amalie had to leave him alone. More than anything, he strove to be an honorable man, loyal to his community and his friends. His loyalty to Friedrich was waning, though, stripped away a little more every time Amalie showed up with her basket of food. He was a traitor, flirting in his mind with Amalie while his friend fought battles for their country.
Why wouldn’t she just stop? Stop bringing him food, stop smiling at him, stop being so persistent and irritatingly kind.
Love Finds You in Amana Iowa Page 15
