Judith Miller - [Daughters of Amana 01] (37 page)

I’d been hiding in my room ever since the incident. Sister Muhlbach had sent word to my mother that I should remain at home until the elders decided upon a new work assignment for me. Before she’d left for the Kinderschule this morning, my mother had given me strict instructions that I should remain in the house. I’d heeded her word, pacing the floor for most of the morning. I watched as the milk wagon passed below my window to make deliveries to the Küche. I considered yelling to Rudolf but stopped myself. Hadn’t I created enough havoc?

I sat down and forced myself to develop a plan. I was deep in thought when a tap sounded at the door. Probably the elders wanting to question me.

Inhaling a deep breath, I opened the door. “Rudolf! What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how you are doing. Do you need anything?”

I nodded and yanked him inside. “I’ve decided to leave. Are you willing to help me?”

He gulped and stepped inside. “That’s not the answer, Berta. You should stay and see this thing through. You’ll be forgiven.”

I shook my head. “No, not for this. It’s too much. Maybe if it had been my first offense, but I’ve gone too far. It was an accident, but if I hadn’t insisted on showing Lydia how to dance, it wouldn’t have happened. It’s best this way, Rudolf. For everyone.”

“Not for me. Where will you go?”

“If you’ll help me get to Homestead, I’ll board a train for Chicago.” I clutched his arm. “Please say you’ll help.”

He leaned against the doorjamb and stared at the floor. “To do this would be hard, Berta. We’ll need to secure a wagon, and with the night watchman on duty, getting out of town without being seen will be hard.”

I brightened. He’d said “will be” not “would be.” He was going to help me. “We can do it. I promise I’ll follow your instructions without question, but we need to leave tonight, before my mother or the elders make any decisions about my future.”

His brows furrowed. “Like what?”

Maybe I’d misunderstood. Maybe he wasn’t willing to help. “Like my mother sending me off to boarding school or the elders sending our family to another village. It could be anything.”

“I don’t know about your Mutter, but the elders won’t send you away. Of this I am sure.”

He might be sure, but I couldn’t withstand the embarrassment of remaining here. Seeing Lydia and her parents, eating at Sister Muhlbach’s Küche and seeing the other workers every day—I couldn’t withstand such pain. And to be moved to another village would be just as bad. Word traveled among the villages. They would know what belligerent Berta Schumacher had done. “Please say you’ll help me, Rudolf.”

He rubbed his jaw, and I could see he was thinking, considering the possibilities. He was beginning to waver. I held my tongue, fearful anything I said might cause him to change his mind. Finally he looked up and met my steady gaze. “As soon as it is dark enough that you won’t be seen, you must sneak out of the house and meet me at the edge of town beyond the mill. Cut behind the houses, and be careful you don’t make a sound. Better to go slow than to fall or make noise and get caught.”

My heart thumped so hard I thought it would jump from my chest. “You’ll get a wagon?”

He shook his head. “Only a horse. I could never manage a wagon. We would be caught, for sure. You’ll have to ride behind me on the horse. Besides, a horse will get us there faster than a wagon.”

I swallowed hard. I’d never ridden a horse, and the thought frightened me, but I didn’t say so. I didn’t want to give Rudolf any excuse to change his mind. This would be my only chance of getting to the train depot.

I nodded my agreement. “You promise you’ll be there?”

“Ja. I will do it. After prayer service I’ll tell my Mutter I must go to the barn to check the milk wagon. I’ll remain at the barn. Mutter always goes to bed directly after we come home from prayer service. She won’t wait up for me.”

“As soon as it’s dark, I’ll sneak out.”

He pushed away from the doorjamb and straightened his shoulders. “Remember, you must leave your belongings. We won’t be able to carry them with us.”

“Nothing?”

“Only what you can hold on to while we’re riding.”

I agreed. After all, there wasn’t much I wanted. Besides, my mother would make certain the mother-of-pearl dresser set that had belonged to my grandmother would be well cared for, and I didn’t want my work clothes.

At the top of the steps he turned. “How will you purchase a train ticket?”

“I have money.”

“I should have known.” Disappointment clouded his eyes.

For some reason his comment stung, but I didn’t reply. Even Rudolf considered me a devious troublemaker. Well, he wouldn’t have to put up with me for much longer. If he’d get me to the train station, I’d be out of all of their lives. My conscience nagged, and I remembered something Brother Mauer spoke about in a service many weeks ago. He’d said problems weren’t solved by turning our backs or running from them. Instead, we needed to take them to God and seek guidance. I hadn’t gone to God for guidance, but I had asked to be forgiven. I wasn’t brave enough to go to Lydia and her parents and ask for their forgiveness, but I had asked God. Strange how it was easier to ask God to forgive me than to ask Lydia. I knew I couldn’t bear to see the pain in Lydia’s eyes. With God it was different. I couldn’t see His sorrow.

Once my mother had eaten her supper in the dining hall, she delivered my meal to our house. She and Sister Muhlbach agreed it would be best. I wasn’t certain whose idea it had been, but I knew it decreased my mother’s embarrassment to have me hidden away in these rooms. I’d become a prisoner. Not that I didn’t deserve much worse punishment, but I was glad I’d be gone come nightfall.

“I’ll be home after prayer service. Once you’ve finished your supper, you can read the Bible or go to bed.”

I ate my supper and gathered items that I could shove into a small bag. The only things of importance were the contents of my father’s leather pouch. I tucked the bag beneath my covers, slipped my nightgown over my clothes, and crawled into bed.

When my mother returned, she poked her head into my room and bid me good-night. I hoped she would go to bed quickly and fall into a deep sleep—and that I would remain wide awake.

It seemed an eternity before the last vestige of daylight gave way to darkness. Hands shaking, I stood beside my bedroom door and listened for any sound before I turned the knob. I held my breath, hoping the door hinge wouldn’t squawk in protest. With the bag hanging from my wrist, I carried my shoes and tiptoed to the parlor door. I stepped into the hallway and carefully closed the door. The door latch clunked. I stood frozen in place until I was certain all remained quiet. Shortly after our arrival, I’d learned where to place my foot on each step in order to avoid making any creaking sounds. Tonight I was thankful for that skill.

My breathing remained shallow until I made it to the backyard. I dropped beneath the tree and shoved my feet into my shoes. Now if I could make it to the edge of town without being seen. I picked my way through the backyards, careful to watch for anyone who might be making a nighttime trip to the outhouse. The air was still and heavy from the rains earlier in the week, and I gasped for a deep breath of air as I continued onward.

A sense of relief washed over me when I finally caught a glimpse of the mill. I didn’t permit myself to think that Rudolf might fail me. There was no alternate plan. I couldn’t get to Homestead without him, but I wouldn’t go back. At every sound my heart raced, and my head throbbed with pain. Slowly I edged toward the road and strained to catch a glimpse of Rudolf. My palms turned moist as I hunkered down along the road.
Where is he
?

The shrubs crackled, and I poked my head a little higher to get a better view. In the shadows along the side of the mill, I saw Rudolf emerge leading a horse. I glanced at the watchtower. Keeping low, I scuttled across the road and soon was at Rudolf ’s side. “I was afraid you weren’t going to come.”

He pressed his finger to my lips. “Better to keep quiet until we are farther away. We’ll walk the horse down this way and then take to the road, where the watchman can’t see us,” he whispered.

For once I followed instructions without question. When Rudolf finally pointed his thumb toward the road, I followed. He hoisted himself into the saddle and then held his hand down to help me. It took three tries before I was finally astride the horse.

“It’s gut I chose a gentle horse,” Rudolf said when I was settled behind him.

We didn’t talk much on the way. I rested my head against his back and asked God to protect Rudolf. I didn’t want him to get in trouble for helping me.

CHAPTER 28

Chicago, Illinois
Johanna Ilg

The days were passing in a flurry of activity. Both Larissa and Louisa treated me to experiences I’d never imagined. More shopping in the lovely stores along State Street, tea and luncheons with a variety of their friends and acquaintances, concerts—all of it had been exciting. And though I took great pleasure in the myriad activities, I felt like an outsider, trespassing in a world where I didn’t fit.

With each passing day, I asked God to show me where I belonged. The answer didn’t come to me in a jolting revelation. Rather, it seeped into my consciousness through gentle reminders of the life I would be forced to leave behind. While I’d experienced great pleasure during this visit, I’d come to know that I didn’t belong. I doubted I could ever integrate into this way of life—certainly not the way Wilhelm had. I needed a quiet, well-planned existence. A way of life where I could best serve God.

Of course, there had been several letters from Amana that prodded my memories of home: The ones from my mother expressed her love and concern. The ones from Berta chastised me for leaving her and told of her many problems with Sister Muhlbach. And the ones from Carl I still needed to answer.

My prayers regarding Carl had been flying heavenward ever since his first letter arrived. After reading the pages of bold script, I knew he’d spoken from his heart, and I needed to respond. Carl was a good man—a man who loved God, and he’d shown me nothing but kindness and respect. In the letter I received yesterday, he’d once again said he hoped I would return, but he wanted only what was best for me. The same words he’d whispered when he came to the train depot to bid me farewell. I still marveled that he’d come to say good-bye, and I still recalled the pain I’d seen in his eyes while he stood on the station platform beside my father. I didn’t doubt he truly cared for me.

I unfolded the letter and traced a finger over the page, recalling the touch of Carl’s hand and his quick smile as I once again read his words.

Dear Johanna,

Please know that I care for you in a very special way, and I hope you will return to Amana so that we can spend more time together. It is my hope that as we learn more about each other, a deep love will grow between us—a love that might lead to our marriage. Although it would break my heart, I would never want you to marry me unless you loved me. I have been praying that this time away has provided you with all you need to make your decision.

Brother Kohler grows weary of my daily visits asking if I’ve received a letter from you. I believe he has taken pity on me. Yesterday he gave me a piece of candy before relaying the sad news. He also said I should tell you to hurry home before he depletes his supply of candy. I would be most thankful if you would write and tell me of your plans. Your father says you have written to them but haven’t said for sure when you will return.

I look forward with great anticipation to seeing you again. With great fondness,

Carl

With great fondness.
Warmth flooded my cheeks as I whispered the words into the empty room and pictured Carl in my mind—his sandy hair and the twinkle of his blue eyes, his broad shoulders and work-worn hands. I missed his kind voice and gentle spirit.

“Here you are! I thought you’d gone outside to enjoy the lovely weather, but instead you remain in this stuffy sitting room.” Larissa glanced at the writing paper spread atop the hand-carved parlor desk. “Writing letters?”