The diners filed back out into the cool night, walking around Matthias and Jonah as they moved toward evening prayers. Jonah stuck his free hand into his pocket and looked up the street as if he didn’t know exactly where to go from here.
“Where are you from?” Matthias asked.
Jonah nodded west. “Marengo.”
“Your family must be glad you are back from the war.”
“I don’t have much of a family anymore,” he said with a shrug. “My parents died in a carriage accident when I was fourteen. I have an uncle who farms outside of town, but I don’t see him very often.”
Matthias understood. Without the kindness of the Vinzenz family and the entire community, he would be on his own as well. “Yet you came back to Marengo.”
“I didn’t have anyplace else to go.”
Matthias hesitated. He understood a bit of what that was like. “Have you been home yet?”
Jonah shook his head. “I wanted to come here first.”
Matthias searched the man’s face for a moment, and he realized that Jonah Henson had traveled all the way from Tennessee, finally home from the war, and there was no one to greet him or thank him for all he had done.
“It’s too late for you to travel tonight,” Matthias said.
“The darkness doesn’t bother me.”
“Perhaps you can leave at first light.” Matthias pointed at the sandstone house next to him. “There’s a free room up there where you could spend the night.”
Jonah hesitated. “Are you certain?”
“You’ve done all of us a tremendous service, coming to tell us what happened to Friedrich,” he said. “It is only a small way for us to thank you.”
Jonah blinked, glancing up again at the dark window above them. “I would like to stay.”
Several more people wandered around him and Jonah on the narrow walk, on their way to Nachtgebet. Everyone in the village attended the prayers, but just for tonight, he didn’t think Brother Schaube or the other elders would mind if he stayed away to entertain their guest.
Matthias pointed him to the doorway of the sandstone house. They could wait in its good room until the others were finished.
“What was it like,” Matthias asked as they walked, “out on the battlefield?”
“The days, they were terribly long when we weren’t fighting, but the battle itself was terrifying.” He shifted his arm under his sling. “I didn’t know when I would get hit, and when my turn finally came, I almost felt relieved. I no longer had to wonder how it would end.”
“You thought you would die?”
Jonah nodded.
“I can’t imagine.”
Jonah seemed lost in his memories. “It was mighty cold as we tried to make our way back to camp. There weren’t enough blankets, even for the wounded men.”
Over Jonah’s shoulder, Matthias could see the tip of the woolen mill in the distance. He didn’t feel God’s call on his life to join the fighting, not like Friedrich had, but perhaps there was something else they could do to help.
Two men lifted their hats to him as they rounded a corner.
“Where are they going?” Jonah asked.
“To evening prayers.”
Jonah watched them wistfully, and then he turned back to Matthias. “Do you think I could join them?”
Matthias hesitated for a moment and then he guided Jonah toward the residence where they prayed every evening for their community and their country.
* * * * *
Amalie watched Matthias escort the soldier into the bottom floor of the residence where they prayed. None of the elders asked him to leave, and she was grateful for it. She’d never seen an outsider in their prayer meeting before, but after what Jonah had endured, he probably needed prayer even more than the rest of them.
Brother Schaube led out in prayer, and then Matthias prayed. Gratefulness poured out of his heart with his words, and she reveled in the strength of his voice. His petitions. Perhaps Matthias did miss Friedrich as much as she did.
Louise followed Matthias, thanking God for the life of her son and for taking him on to heaven before them. And then she thanked God for bringing Jonah to them.
In Amalie’s lap was the letter Friedrich had written to her. She’d read his words before supper and she would read it again before she went to bed. And then she would give it to the Vinzenz family to read as well.
His handwritten lines crossed over each other to conserve paper, blending the words in an odd pattern that made it difficult but not impossible to read. He hadn’t known this was his last letter to her. He probably thought it was like the letter he’d sent from Iowa City; he would follow it with another and another.
He said the Confederates had surprised them with an attack, but he wasn’t injured. He and his company were enjoying the cool water from a stream as he was writing her, and he was missing Amana’s wonderful food. If the war didn’t kill him, he tried to joke, then the army food would.
His words were no longer funny.
He finished the letter with words to his parents and he told Matthias that he would return soon to fish with him.
And he said he missed her, even more than the food.
She opened her Psalter-Spiel to hymn sixty-four and began to sing.
She missed him too.
Joy and peace, like balmy showers,
In Thy smile come gently down.
Matthias Loy
Chapter Twenty-Five
Two brothers carried pots and cookware into the new kitchen house. The stove and icebox were already in place and the cellar was stocked full with colorful canning jars, contributions from the other kitchens in the Kolonie. Sunshine flooded through the wide windows into the dining room, and the walls shone with fresh light-blue paint.
Matthias sat on a bench, surveying his and his team’s handiwork, as he always did when a project was complete. In solemn awe he looked around the dining room. Part of his contemplation was pride, he supposed. Part of this moment, though, was in pure wonder at what could be accomplished in eight weeks. With the determination of their men and the abundance of supplies God had provided for them, a new building had been born.
What never ceased to amaze him was that not one person received payment for their work or for the materials needed to erect a building. It was the perfect picture of what it meant to be a community. Without anyone vying for money or credit or power for what they had done, they could do great things. The results were extraordinary, and all glory was given to God.
The door cracked open, and Amalie peeked inside. His heart softened at the sight of her.
He stood up, motioning toward the kitchen. “Come and look.”
She stepped back toward the door, as if she was about to run. “When are you leaving?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll return later.”
His own words rang back to him. He’d told her not to come back to the kitchen, not while he was there, and now she was doing exactly as he once asked.
“This is your kitchen now.” He swallowed hard. “I’d like to show it to you.”
She crossed her arms. “I thought you didn’t want to see me ever again.”
“I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I—I don’t know why I did.”
“Really, Matthias?” she questioned. “Because it seemed to me like you knew exactly why you were doing it.”
“I was wrong,” he said simply. He couldn’t explain it to her.
She stepped into the room, glancing at the tables and benches, and the wood-burning stove in the corner that would keep the diners warm during the winters. He couldn’t tell if she was in awe as well or if she was dazed.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he guided her from the dining room to the kitchen.
She avoided his question as she ran her hands across the smooth top of one of the tables. “You’ve done a good job.”
“Thank you.”
She peeked through the doorway, into t
he kitchen. He wanted her to be excited about their handiwork and her new stove and the display of all the pots and pans she’d brought from New York. But when she turned back toward him, there was only sorrow in her eyes.
“It’s not the same without him, is it?” she asked.
He sat back down on one of the benches. “There’s certainly not as much laughter these days.”
“I think you might miss him even more than I do.”
He searched her eyes, wondering what she meant. “We all miss him.”
She leaned back against the wall. “I can hardly remember what life was like with Friedrich.”
“He hadn’t changed a bit, Amalie. He was just as strong and as passionate as he was when we left Ebenezer.”
“I think I miss him, but it’s more like I miss the memory of him. I miss knowing that his letters are on their way and the expectation of seeing him again.” She wrung her hands together. “There is no future now.”
He stopped her. “You still have a future, Amalie.”
She shook her head, and he didn’t try to dissuade her again. She would have to begin realizing her future without Friedrich on her own.
“He never stopped loving you. Not once.”
“Nor I him.”
“I will help you remember him,” he said quietly. “Neither of us will forget.”
She sat down on a bench, across from him. Her eyes were on the window behind him, lost in her thoughts. He wanted to reach out and hold her like he did when they first learned the news of Friedrich, but even the act of comforting her, even if he wanted it to be innocent, would mean so much more to him. He saw now the kindness in her heart, the love she harbored for Friedrich. And he had to control the turmoil inside him—for his sake and for hers.
“What do you miss most?” she asked.
“His silly singing, especially when he sang so loudly they could hear him up in East Amana. And I miss our Sunday afternoons fishing on the river and walking with him every night to evening prayers.”
She met his eyes. “You were the best of friends, Matthias.”
He shook his head. “A good friend would have stopped him from going to war.”
“Louise told me you tried to change his mind.”
“I didn’t try hard enough.”
She spread her hands over the smooth tabletop. “I remember that time, back in Ebenezer, when you tried to talk Friedrich out of skating on the pond. You did everything you could, but he still wouldn’t listen to you.”
“And neither would you.”
She shrugged. “I wanted to skate with him.”
He remembered the sound of the ice cracking across the water, the horror that filled him when Amalie fell through the ice. His heart had almost failed as he rushed to her. The water was shallow, so only the bottom of her dress and her skates were wet, but he’d still rushed her back to a residence to warm her by the fire. Amalie and Friedrich had laughed about the accident, but he never thought it was funny.
“No one got hurt then,” he said.
“If anyone could have deterred him, it would have been you, but no one could change Friedrich’s mind when he was determined to go.” She paused. “Do you remember how sick he was on the ship over here?”
“We were all sick.”
“Yes, but he was sick more than the others. Even as a child, you spent hours sitting with him in his cabin while the rest of us played on the deck.”
“He was like a brother to me.”
“He was your brother, Matthias.”
She pushed something across the table at him, a blue book with silver pictures.
“What is this?” he asked.
“A shopkeeper in Lisbon gave it to me,” she said. “It helped me…helped me to understand slavery. And why Friedrich had to go.”
He slid the book back toward her. “What does this author know about slavery?”
She raised her eyebrows at his tone. “If you would read the book, you might understand the horrors of slavery as well.”
“I already know about the horrors of slavery.”
“But we can’t really understand it—”
Irritation flared up inside him. She didn’t know how much he understood.
“Does it explain why Friedrich had to die?” he asked, and she hesitated at the bitterness in his words. She could never understand his anger nor could he tell her. “I’m sorry, Amalie. I know he gave up his life protecting another man.”
“No, it’s all right to be angry,” she said. “To question.”
“There are no answers to our questions.” He shook his head. “God works in ways we will never understand.”
“Someday,” she said. “Someday I think we will have answers.”
“We will miss him together, Amalie,” he said, and then scolded himself at his words. He shouldn’t do anything with her.
“Thank you.” She began to stand. “I need to get busy organizing the kitchen.”
“Amalie,” he said, stopping her. “There’s something else I wanted to speak with you about.”
“What is it?’
“Jonah Henson said that it was bitter cold in Tennessee this time of year. Many of the soldiers are getting sick from exposure.”
She blinked, and he wondered if she had the same spark of an idea that he had. “Don’t they have blankets?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“The Council of Elders meets next Wednesday,” he said. “If you think it’s a good idea, I want to ask them to let me collect blankets and other supplies for the soldiers and for their prisoners. We could help the Union and the war effort without sending any more of our men to fight.”
Life sparked in the dullness of her eyes. “It’s a good idea, Matthias.”
“I would want to do it to honor Friedrich’s life.”
This time she shook her head. “We should do it to honor the men who are still fighting for freedom.”
“You are certain?”
“Friedrich would not want to put himself above the others.”
“No, he would not.”
He had been thinking more of her and the Vinzenz family than Friedrich, but Amalie was right. None of them would want to esteem themselves higher than either the Federals or their prisoners.
“Let’s collect blankets for the soldiers, and anything else they might need.”
He stood up by the table. “I will speak with the elders.”
She stepped toward the kitchen and then turned back to him. “Hilga is a blessed woman to have you, Matthias.”
His chest tightened with her words. If only he could be certain he would be able to be as loyal to Hilga as Amalie had been to Friedrich.
* * * * *
Amalie slid a knife out of its sheath and removed the cores from the ten heads of white cabbage she’d collected from their fall garden this morning. She fed the cabbage through a hand-cranked shredder and added the thin slices to a large pot with fried bacon. She would let the cabbage simmer until it was tender enough to make coleslaw.
White curtains framed the sunlight streaming through her new windows. Matthias and the other carpenters had built tall shelves, cupboards, and a six-foot-long sink, and then they added plenty of hooks above the long tables to hang baskets and her kettles. The craftsmanship was impeccable, and in spite of their differences, she would always be grateful to Matthias for his detailed work.
Her hands worked quietly and quickly as she loaded wood into the box under the stove to build a fire. It felt good to be back in a kitchen. Her kitchen.
And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men.
The Lord had given her this job and she would work with all her heart to please Him.
As the fire blazed below the stove, she lifted a kettle of water and set it on the left burner. Then she placed the pot with cabbage and bacon on the burner behind it. She would boil beef for the first meal tonight along with the coleslaw and make spiced apples when Karoline returned from the orc
hard.
The door opened beside her, and she looked up, expecting to greet Karoline, but Louise walked into the kitchen instead.
The older woman moved toward the sink and washed her hands in a bowl. “I am here to help you.”
“You need to rest, Louise.”
Louise didn’t seem to hear her words. Instead she reached for a knife and began cutting the arm roast into chunks. “It will be like the days of old, when I used to feed our whole family at home instead of going to communal kitchen, except I’ll get to feed both my daughters and my son.”
“I’m not your daughter, Louise,” Amalie said, as if she had to remind the woman that she and Friedrich never married. She would spend the rest of her life as a Wiese, not a Vinzenz.
“Oh yes, you are.” Louise set down the knife and reached out to give her a hug. “You are still one of my daughters, just like Matthias is my son.”
Amalie welcomed the hug, though she didn’t know how to respond to the woman’s love for her. Even though she’d spent most of her life living in the room next to her mother and father, she’d never known what it was like to have a mother who cared about her well-being.
Her mother did the typical things a mother should do. When Amalie was a child, her mother escorted her to meals and school and to prayers, but even as she took her to different places, she rarely spoke with her. She couldn’t imagine her mother volunteering to help her work in the kitchen, or saying how grateful she was that Amalie was her daughter.
It wasn’t that her mother didn’t care about her, but she was ever busy in her role as the doctor’s assistant and town midwife, and she thrived in her busyness. Someone was always knocking on her door, asking for her help, and it seemed like she was always available to help everyone except the child she had birthed herself. The busyness fulfilled her in some way, but Amalie missed having a family.
Louise eyed the bowls of rutabagas lined up on the shelf. “Would you like me to mash them for dinner?”
“That would be wonderful.”
“We will work,” Louise said as she lowered a bowl to the table. “And we will talk.”
Amalie added the pieces of roast to the warm water before she stirred the cabbage. She wasn’t sure what she would talk about with Louise, not without talking about their memories of Friedrich. It had been hard enough discussing what she remembered with Matthias. She didn’t know if she had the strength to talk to Friedrich’s mother about him as well.
Love Finds You in Amana Iowa Page 20
