A Simple Change (10 page)

My heart ached for her, and I longed to say something that might help. “If you like, I'd be most willing to withdraw my acceptance. With my mother ill, I'm sure Ritt would think nothing of it. That way, he might ask you.”

“Nein.” Margaret pulled away. “If you did that and he still didn't invite me, I would feel even worse. You should go to the picnic with Ritt and enjoy yourself. If Ritt is the man God intends for me, He will place me on Ritt's heart. If not, then I must accept that there is another plan for me.”

I stared at Margaret, amazed by her discerning reply. Would I have been so insightful?

I remained at the men's quarters after Margaret departed. Following our talk, I'd moved at a slower pace than usual. And though I was the one who normally departed early, today it was Margaret.

Once I finished my work, I returned to the bed near the end of the row and stared at the photograph. The girl was a painful reminder of how much I missed the children at the orphanage. Even though I didn't know the girl, I longed to know who she was and her connection to the Charity Home and the unknown man who worked in the woolen mill.

No doubt Ritt would think me unwise to seek such information. I pondered whether I should ask him and finally came to a decision: I would write a note and leave it beneath the photograph. There was no need to involve Ritt.

After removing a sheet of stationery from a supply of paper and envelopes in the parlor, I sat down at the table and composed a brief note.

To the owner of the photograph that was placed on top of this note:

I am Jancey Rhoder, one of the colonists who helps clean the living quarters. I hope you will not think me meddlesome, but while dusting the top of your trunk, I could not help but notice the photograph. I was immediately drawn to the picture because I was a teacher at the Kansas City Charity Home before coming to Middle Amana. I do not recognize the girl in the picture, but I worked with the younger children, so
there is a possibility I never met her. However, I am curious about who she is and if she still resides at the Charity Home.

You could write the information at the bottom of the page, but if you don't want to answer, I understand.

Sincerely,
Sister Jancey Rhoder

I folded the sheet of paper in half and tucked it beneath the photograph. I hoped the owner of the picture would be the one to find my note. Even more, I hoped he could read.

Chapter 10

The rain had ceased during the night, but the air remained heavy and oppressive. Brother Werner had declared the rain good for the wheat, corn, vegetable gardens, and vineyard. I was sure he was right, but I hoped my shoes would remain dry today. After drying them near the stove, they felt as though they had shrunk at least half a size. In spite of the rain and my pinching shoes, I was eager to reach the men's quarters, so as soon as Brother Herman uttered amen to the after-breakfast prayer, I rushed out the door.

Children scurried off toward the schoolhouse while a few adults remained outside the Küche talking before departing to their assigned daily work. I had gone only a short distance when Ritt shouted my name.

“Wait!” He jogged to my side. “What is your hurry? Has
something happened? You rushed away from the Küche so quickly I became worried.”

“Nothing has happened. I am fine.” Continuing at a quick pace, I strode onward.

He pinned me with a perplexed gaze. “But you didn't wait for me. Have I done something?”

I shook my head. Because the woolen mill and the outsiders' living quarters were situated in close proximity, I'd begun walking to work with Ritt. In my haste this morning, I'd forgotten that he would look for me. My mind whirled as I tried to think of a reasonable answer.

“I'm sorry. It is humid and once the sun comes out, it will be more difficult to breathe. I want to complete as much work as possible before it is unbearable inside.” There was truth in my words, for in no time the men's quarters would turn hot and steamy.

“Ja, is the same in the mill. Maybe worse, I think.” He kicked at a rock. “I'm looking forward to the picnic on Saturday. You are still going with me, ja?”

“Yes, of course.” My heart warmed at the thought. Being around Ritt always seemed to lighten my spirits. Birds twittered overhead, and I leaned sideways as we passed beneath a hanging tree branch. “Do you know if any of the men have an interest in Sister Margaret? She is a nice young woman, and I think she would be pleased to have an escort for the picnic.”

He hiked a shoulder. “No one has mentioned her to me, but that is not so odd. I think no one talks about who they ask because they fear the girl may say no.” He tipped his head to one side. “It is embarrassing to be refused, and we do not like others to know.”

“I understand, but should you discover one of the men is looking
for someone to invite, you could mention her name. I don't think she would refuse.”

Probably I shouldn't meddle in Margaret's life. She'd been plainspoken about putting God in charge of her future. But perhaps I could help God with this particular project. Maybe God wanted to use me to help Margaret find a man. At least that's what I told myself.

Ritt slowed his step as we approached the mill. “I will see what I can find out and maybe mention Margaret as a prospect. You are kind to befriend her. I have heard she isn't the best worker in the village—that sometimes she seems slow.”

His comment annoyed me. In truth, Margaret was a hard worker. “I don't know why anyone would say Margaret isn't a good worker. She never leaves before her work is completed, and she does a good job, too.” I shot a defiant look in his direction as we came to a halt in front of the mill. “And when you say she is slow, I'm sure you aren't referring to her intelligence, since she tells me she attended school through the eighth grade.” I hesitated a moment. “Just like most others who live here, if I am remembering correctly.”

For a moment, he appeared bewildered by my outburst. “Ja, but she had a little trouble with reading, I think.”

I tilted my head and met his puzzled look. “But you're the one who told me that reading and writing weren't important.”

He inhaled a deep breath. “Since seeing you work with Madelyn, I have changed my mind a little, but I still believe it is more important to be a skilled worker than to possess the ability to read with ease.”

“Then you should not refer to Sister Margaret as slow, for she is as skilled at her work as anyone else in the village.”

Ritt frowned and shook his head. “It isn't my wish to argue about Sister Margaret.” He glanced toward the mill. “I must go to work. If an opportunity arises, I will mention her name to some of the brothers.”

Shoulders squared, he turned and walked away as the work bell rang in the distance. What had come over me? I turned toward the outsiders' quarters and caught sight of Margaret entering the building. Instead of arriving at work before her, I had become embroiled in a silly spat with Ritt. What if she went into the sleeping quarters and discovered one of the men had left a note for me?

I raced toward the door. By the time I entered the building, I was gasping for air. I clutched a hand to my bodice, relieved to see Margaret in the sitting room cleaning ashes from the stove.

She glanced over her shoulder as my labored breathing continued. “You did not need to run, Jancey. This is not like working at the mill. There is no one to make sure you arrive on time.”

“Maybe not, but we are still expected to be here when the bell rings.”

She shrugged and returned to her work. “Ja, I suppose that is right, but so long as we finish before the men return for the evening, all is well.”

I gathered my cleaning supplies and stepped into the other room with my gaze fastened upon the trunk where I'd left my note. After placing the supplies in one corner, I hurried down the aisle that separated the two rows of beds and stopped beside the trunk. My breath caught when I spotted a corner of the stationery peeking out from beneath the photograph. Either he hadn't discovered my note or he'd left an answer.

Leaning forward, I pushed aside the photograph and picked up the folded note.

“I'm going out to empty the bucket of ashes.”

Startled by Margaret's announcement, I dropped the note and it fluttered to rest atop the rumpled sheets. My hands trembled as I wheeled around to answer, but she'd already departed through the open doorway. Relieved, I exhaled a slow breath and unfolded the note. Beneath my precise script, a short reply was printed in uneven bold letters:
Meet me at the pond after supper.

There was no signature, not even initials. Just those seven brief words that were more a command than a request. A shiver raced down my arm, and I shoved the note into my pocket. For the remainder of the morning, I did my best to push thoughts of the girl in the photograph out of my mind. What difference did it make who she was? It wasn't as if I knew the girl.

At supper I scanned the table of outsiders hoping for some clue, but I saw nothing. When we prepared to depart after the evening meal, I remained unsure what I should do. A part of me still wanted to go, yet a modicum of fear mingled with the desire to unearth the mystery of the girl's identity. I continued to weigh the possibilities and said a silent prayer as I walked out of the Küche. Perhaps God would direct me.

“Sister Jancey, Sister Jancey, wait for me!” Madelyn skipped to my side and grasped my hand. “I know it's not our teaching night, but could you help me? I don't understand some of the schoolwork I need to have prepared for tomorrow.” She pointed toward the Küche. “Mutter must help with the cleanup and won't be home until time for prayer meeting.”

“I believe I've received my answer,” I muttered.

Madelyn looked about. “Answer to what?”

“What I should be doing between now and time for prayer service.” I squeezed her hand as we walked toward home.

When I arrived at work the following morning, another note awaited me. Once again, it had been placed beneath the photograph. At first I considered leaving it there untouched, but what if Margaret should read it and realize I'd been exchanging notes with an outsider? There was no doubt she'd feel compelled to report my behavior. I shoved the piece of paper into my pocket and set to work, unwilling to take a chance that Margaret might see it and question me.

When she went outside a short time later, I removed the paper from my pocket. The note bore the same uneven bold printing, but instead of a single sentence, he'd written a brief message. I quickly scanned the contents.

I'm sorry you didn't come to the pond yesterday. I've seen you cleaning at the quarters when I go to the Küche for morning break. I know who you are.

A knot formed in the pit of my stomach. He knew who I was, but I didn't know him. I wasn't certain if I should be frightened or if he was simply trying to form a bond with me.

I want to meet you. Please come to the pond after supper tonight. The girl in the photograph is my sister, and I need to get information about her. I hope you will help me.

Thomas Kingman

Learning the girl in the photograph was the man's sister and he wanted to secure information about her whereabouts convinced me. How could I refuse to help him?

After supper, I hurried from the Küche, determined to make my way to the pond before Madelyn or anyone else had an opportunity to stop me. I wasn't certain how I would answer if I should be questioned as to my whereabouts, but I knew I should have something in mind before I returned home. I hurried along a hidden path that Madelyn had shown me some weeks ago, a shortcut that she and her friends used when making their summertime treks to the pond. It would save time, and I wouldn't be easily observed.