Fields of Grace (14 page)
He forced a kinder tone. “Having children is a private matter, Joseph, between grownups. It is not for us to discuss.” Besides, a man and a woman should not create a child together unless love bound them to each other.
“But . . .” Joseph licked his lips, glancing at Eli as if to ascertain the man was really sleeping. “They are married. Married people have children . . .”
“Ma and Eli only married so they could travel on together. They do not love each other the way Ma and Father did.” The thought of love shared between a man and woman immediately brought Susie Friesen to mind, and Henrik added in a sour tone, “I do not wish to speak of it anymore.”
Joseph’s head bobbed in silent agreement. Then he yawned and shifted on the seat. “I think I will take a nap like
Onkel
Eli.”
“Good.” If Joseph slept, too, Henrik would be left in peace. Peace . . . Truthfully, his soul had not known peace since the day Father had announced his intention to leave Gnadenfeld. Glaring out the window at the unfamiliar sunlit landscape, Henrik wondered if peace even existed in America.
Lillian lifted her feet onto the bench and leaned into the corner. Thick draperies, held back with gold-tasseled cords, framed the window. She had lowered the top pane, and hot air coursed into the enclosed berth, stirring the curtains as well as her hair. The scene outside beckoned her to admire the lush landscape and towering trees thick with dark green leaves, but her focus was turned inward.
She had misjudged him. When Eli had mentioned two private berths, she hadn’t expected he would allow her an entire berth to herself. No, she’d assumed he would join her. She glanced around the space—small, certainly, but more than adequate for one person. The benches, well cushioned with tufted emerald green velvet pillows softening the seats and backs, allowed one to travel comfortably for the four-day journey.
Guilt niggled as she considered Eli, Henrik, and Joseph sharing a similar space. She should invite Joseph to join her. Then Eli and Henrik would have more room to stretch out. But she would wait until tomorrow. For now, she appreciated the privacy.
How long had it been since she’d been able to enjoy a moment of complete solitude? Not since she was a little girl escaping to the fields after school instead of going home as her parents instructed. Her one small rebellion. She remembered her mother waiting in the doorway, switch in hand, to mete out punishment for her disobedience. Yet those hours of uninterrupted pleasure, running through the fields with her arms outstretched or lying flat on her back, gazing at the clouds and drinking in the sight and sound of the open prairie, had always been worth the momentary sting of the switch against her legs.
Her mother had been the disciplinarian in her childhood home, but Lillian had always deferred to Reinhardt in disciplining their sons. With Reinhardt gone, would Eli now take over that position? Would Henrik submit to Eli’s authority? Reinhardt had kept an especially close watch on Henrik. At times she had thought him overly attentive—Henrik was, underneath, a good boy, even if prone to flights of fancy.
She could understand Henrik’s desire to learn—to sample fresh and exciting experiences—because she’d harbored exactly the same desires as a child. Yet she also knew her parents’ close rein had prevented her from stepping into dangerous situations. She sensed Henrik’s continued restlessness. Could she, without Reinhardt’s firm hand, keep him reined in and safe from worldly influences?
Sorrow pressed like a weight on her heart. Oh, if only Reinhardt were still here! If only little Jakob could grow to manhood! But wishing changed nothing. Reinhardt and Jakob were gone. She, Henrik, and Joseph remained. Somehow she would find the strength to provide the guidance her boys needed to be God-honoring men.
Heavenly Father, help me guide my boys in Your ways
. Without effort, a song formed in her heart. She opened her mouth and burst forth with
“Auf, Auf, Mein Herz, mir Freuden,”
one of her favorite hymns from the
Glaubensstimme
, the songbook used in the little church in Gnadenfeld for as long as she could remember.
Although “Awake, My Heart, With Gladness” was traditionally an Easter hymn, the idea of starting anew in a fresh land seemed to pair well with the heart-stirring phrases. The words offered an encouragement to meet the challenges that lay ahead with joy and anticipation rather than fear and concern. Yet, for reasons she didn’t want to examine, this time the music failed to melt away her worries.
M
a! Ma!” Joseph’s excited shout roused Lillian from sleep. She sat upright and blinked into surprisingly bright light. The boy held the curtains wide, allowing sunlight to pour through the window. “Topeka, Ma! We’re here!”
Lillian looked out onto a city scene similar to many others they’d witnessed over the past days of travel. Wood-and rock-constructed buildings lined a wide street. The train chugged slowly, its whistle warning the townspeople of its approach. By craning her neck, she could glimpse the station ahead. A long, scrolled board mounted above a covered walkway held one word: TOPEKA. The same word from their tickets. As Joseph had gleefully exclaimed, they’d reached their destination.
Lifting her hands to her hair, she chided, “Drop the curtain, Joseph, so we might ready ourselves without observation.”
Joseph let the curtain fall, but he peeked through the narrow slit between the two heavy panels while Lillian brushed her hair, braided it, and fashioned the waist-length plait into a thick knot at the back of her neck. A change of clothes wasn’t possible with their trunks stored in a boxcar at the back of the train, but she smoothed her full skirt as best she could and tugged at Joseph’s shirt in an attempt to remove the worst of the wrinkles.
The train’s whistle let out one long blast that accompanied the brakes’ ear-piercing squeal. Both she and Joseph braced themselves against their seats as the train screeched to a shuddering halt. The moment it stopped, Lillian snatched her apron from the end of her bench and whipped it around her waist.
A light tap sounded on the paneled door of their berth. Joseph bounced up and opened the door before Lillian had finished tying her apron. Her hands scrambled to complete the task, but Eli caught her mid-tie. Although adequately covered, the idea of his seeing her perform part of her dressing duties sent fire through her cheeks.
Apparently he found the situation disconcerting, as well, because he averted his gaze, angling his face down the hallway instead of into the berth. “This is Topeka,” he said unnecessarily. “I spoke with the conductor, and he gave me instructions for finding the men who can sell us land. I wonder . . .”
He turned his head slowly, by inches, as if fearful she would still be doing something he shouldn’t see. She clasped her hands at her waist and met his gaze directly, although she wanted to hide her flaming cheeks behind her palms. His shoulders heaved in a deep breath, and a grin teased his lips.
“I wonder if, rather than going to a meeting with land sellers, you would like to take the boys to an eating place and have a good meal?”
Lillian’s stomach growled at the thought of a decent meal.
“Ach, jo.”
The train’s fare had not been much better than the meals served by the ship’s unimaginative cook.
Eli’s eyes crinkled with his smile. “The conductor tells me a restaurant can be found over the bridge and down a street called Kansas Avenue. This will give you and the boys a chance to learn to recognize the name of our new state. He assures me the food is very tasty and plentiful.” He removed his wallet from his jacket pocket and withdrew two crisp bills. “Take this. I have been teaching Henrik the dollar amounts, so he understands the costs. You and the boys enjoy a meal. I will go see the land sellers and meet you at the restaurant when I have made arrangements for a purchase.”
“Then you will eat, too?” Lillian fingered the bills. It wasn’t fair that she and the boys should have the pleasure of a hot, flavorful meal while Eli went hungry.
“
Jo
, then I will eat, too. Thank you for your concern.” The warmth in his eyes made her face flood with heat again. He gestured for her and Joseph to step into the aisle. “Now you go. I will see to our trunks, but I cannot take them until I have found a wagon. The conductor said the land sellers will be able to direct me to a wainwright.” He spun on the worn heel of his boot and walked away.
She held Henrik’s elbow, allowing him to escort her off the train. Joseph scuffed behind them as they crossed over a wooden bridge and then turned onto a street marked with the word
Kansas
. The boys gawked into store windows, their eyes round and curious, but Lillian looked at the sky. It was bright blue and dotted with fluffy white clouds—a beautiful sight. Seeing that blue sky, reminiscent of the canopy from her childhood wanderings in the fields outside of Gnadenfeld, made her feel at home, even though the town was new and strange.
The smell of fresh bread and cooking meat reached her nostrils even before they stepped onto the boardwalk of a wood-sided building with a tall, square front. White paint glistened in the sun, and dark blue shutters stood guard on either side of the windows and the centered door. Henrik guided her to the door, but Lillian hesitated.
She glanced at her travel-rumpled skirt and then at the crisp, checked curtain hanging behind the glass. Surely a building as clean and neat as this on the outside would be even neater on the inside. Although her stomach begged her to proceed, she remained stiff and unmoving on the sidewalk. She had never eaten in a restaurant before, but she felt certain their wrinkled, sweat-stained clothes would be unwelcome here. And what would she do if they spoke to her in English?
Henrik gave her arm a little yank. “Come on, Ma.”
She took a step away from the door. “I . . . I do not think we should go in.”
“But
Onkel
Eli said for us to eat,” Joseph said. “He will meet us here later. I’m hungry.”
Lillian worried her lower lip between her teeth. She didn’t know where to find Eli to tell him they couldn’t enter the restaurant. A long bench sat beneath one of the windows. She supposed they could sit and wait for Eli to come to them. While she considered this possibility, the door swung open and a young woman wearing a snow-white apron over a dress the same color as the shutters offered her hand in welcome.
The young woman spoke, but Lillian was unfamiliar with the words. She shook her head, wrinkling her brow and flipping her hands outward to indicate her lack of understanding.
Tipping her shining blond head, the woman said,
“Hollandisch?
Russisch? Deutsch?”
Lillian’s heart skipped a beat at the recognizable word.
“Jo,
Deutsch.”
Soft laughter spilled from the girl’s lips. She said in perfect German, “Ah, welcome to Aunt Toadie’s Kitchen. Please come in.”
Joseph bolted through the door, and Henrik guided Lillian after him. Inside, Joseph peered around with his mouth open. Even Henrik’s gaze flitted from the glossy wooden floors to a huge tin fixture holding dozens of candles above their heads.
“Follow me, please, and I will seat you.”
Round tables draped with blue-checked cloths filled the space, which was larger than Lillian had expected. Potted plants—some leafy and green, some covered with blooms—created a gardenlike appearance. Fat candles glowing on each tabletop and in scrolled-tin wall sconces lit every square inch of the white-painted room. Lillian tried to make herself as small as possible as they followed their hostess to a table in the corner, near a large rock fireplace now empty of a blaze.
The girl gestured to the spindle-backed chairs that surrounded the table. Her full rosy lips curved into a smile. “Please be seated. I will see to your needs.”
“Dank,”
Lillian said. Clearly this girl’s beauty went below the surface to her soul. She glanced at Henrik and caught him staring at the girl.
“
Sie sind willkommen
. My name is Nora, and it is my pleasure to serve you. Aunt Toadie baked pork chops today. May I bring some to you?”
The good smells filling the dining room convinced Lillian that any food served here would please their tongues.
“Jo, bitscheen.”
