More Than Words (6 page)

She reached into her pocket and withdrew a piece of paper. Every week women from each of the several
Küches
in Homestead brought their grocery lists to the store. Filling the orders was always a task I enjoyed. I could visit with the cooks or kitchen helpers while picking items from the shelves. Besides, when Mina brought her order, it gave me the opportunity to talk about more personal things—the things shared between dear friends.

There were times when I envied the women who worked in the communal kitchens. They had the opportunity to visit with one another while they worked. And though they sometimes bickered or didn’t agree, mostly they laughed and told stories while they cooked. Of course, there were times when it wasn’t so much fun—when they had to hurry back to the Küche to prepare holiday meals rather than spend time with family, but mostly they liked cooking. And I supposed that was true for most of us. We liked our work, but there were times when we’d rather be doing something else. Still, had I been allowed to choose where I would work, I would have chosen the Küche. Partly because I enjoyed cooking and partly because I wanted to spend more time with Mina.

“Two of the older girls are helping us today—extra training. I put them to gut use so I could get my menu ready.” Mina grinned. “Let’s begin with the flour and sugar first.”

I picked up a basket, handed it to Mina, and picked up another for myself. With the basket on her arm, Mina followed behind me down the aisle.

“You get the flour, and I’ll get the sugar.” I’d lifted two bags into the large woven basket when Mina tapped me on the shoulder. “You selling used sugar nowadays? This bag, it is open.”

I watched in horror as she reached inside the cloth bag and removed a handful of sugar containing flecks of dirt. No doubt Oma had found the bag and placed it back on the shelf. I recounted the incident with the sugar to Mina. “I am thankful it was you that discovered the sugar rather than my father.”

“Ja, or one of the other cooks. If they would get dirt in their sugar and ruin a pudding or cake, you can be sure your father would have received a tongue-lashing.” She covered her mouth and giggled. “Especially from Sister Marguerite. She finds no humor in anything. Maybe you should empty the bag in your burning pit out back. That way your grandmother can’t put it back on the shelf and your father won’t discover what has happened.”

While Mina continued to fill her basket with items from the shelves, I went outside and dumped the contents of the cloth bag into the brick-lined pit we used for burning trash and then returned inside.

Walking down the aisle, I picked up a tin of cinnamon and placed it in Mina’s basket. “Now, let’s see if we can fill the rest of your order.” I scanned the list and began to place items in my basket.

“Who was the visitor that ate the noonday meal with us yesterday?” Mina asked.

“Mr. Allen Finley. He ate his evening meal with us, as well. Weren’t you working during supper?”

Her lips took a downward dive. “That’s exactly why I didn’t see him. I was working. One of the kitchen girls took ill, and I was washing pots and pans while you were eating supper.”

I immediately regretted my comment. I knew Mina wouldn’t be absent from work. “I’m sorry. I know you would never shirk your duties.” I lifted a tin of baking powder from the shelf and handed it to her. “Mr. Finley is a salesman of fine lace and trims, but he has interest in coming here to live. And he writes poetry.”

“The man I saw was dressed in a fine suit and doesn’t look like the type who would be interested in living here. And he doesn’t look like the type who’d be writing poetry, either. I think he must be telling you a story to try to win your heart, Gretchen. You best be careful around that one.”

“You sound like Conrad. Just because a man wears a nice suit doesn’t mean he can’t be trusted. I know he writes poetry because he gave me one of his poems to read. And it’s very good. The meter isn’t quite perfect, but he has talent, and he admires reading and writing.” I emptied the contents of my basket onto the counter. “Aren’t we taught that we should not judge others by their appearance, but rather by what’s in their hearts?”

“Ja. But we must also use sound judgment. The two of you became well acquainted while he was here?”

I touched a finger to the string of my cap. “Not well acquainted—just acquainted. Vater was away from the store when Mr. Finley arrived. He showed me his samples of lace and trims. They are all imported. Much finer than anything we currently have in the store. Vater placed a big order. Visitors will buy them for sure.”

I had planned to mention the magazines Mr. Finley left with me, but Mina was already wary of him. Even though she didn’t object to breaking the rules occasionally, I didn’t think she’d approve.

“Did you ask him how he’d come to know about us and why he wanted to leave his current life behind?” She added several pieces of flypaper to her basket. “Already the flies bother us in the Küche.”

“And everywhere else,” I said. “It’s almost May. What else can we expect but flies and mosquitoes?” I handed her a bag of rice and stepped to the other side of the counter to measure out two pounds of raisins, ten pounds of coffee, and seven pounds of tea.

“Maybe a few salesmen and some hobos.” Mina placed a packet of needles and a spool of darning cotton on the counter. “Keep those separate and deduct them from my account.”

I opened the ledger and slipped the list between the pages. Later I would itemize the list into the ledger, tally up the charges, and make certain the total was delivered to Sister Marguerite, the
Küchebaas
, for her records.

“When is this Mr. Finley returning with his pretty lace?”

I couldn’t withhold my smile. “In a month. He’s going to stay, too. He is asking for time away from his job so he can visit with the elders and find out more about our way of life and see if he would like to become one of us.”

Mina’s eyes turned dark. “Don’t be fooled by him, Gretchen. He may be a gut man. I cannot say for sure. But be sure you decide with your head and not your heart.”

“There is nothing to decide, Mina. I’m not the one who will decide if he is a good candidate to move into our village.”

Mina shook her head as she loaded the goods into the baskets. She glanced over her shoulder when she neared the front door. “Just remember my warning.”

CHAPTER 5

“The Gypsies are here! The Gypsies are here!” My brother raced into the store the next Monday, his shoes clattering on the wooden floor like thumping drumbeats.

I whirled around, my pulse racing. “Where?” My voice croaked like a strangled frog, proof of the anxiety my brother’s announcement unleashed. Using my fingers and thumb, I massaged my throat in an attempt to regain my voice and a measure of composure.

Stefan leaned forward and rested his elbows on the counter while sucking in great gulps of air. His dusty brown hair, a trace darker with perspiration, clung to his forehead.

When I again asked the question, he extended a finger in the air.

“Wait … out … of breath.”

I circled the counter and remained silent until Stefan’s breathing slowed to a more normal rate. “Where did you see them?”

He placed his palm on his chest. “Me and Freddie were walking back to school from the barn. Brother Denton was teaching us about cleaning and oiling the thresher.”

I waved for him to hurry. “I don’t need all the unimportant details. Where did you see Gypsies?”

He shot me an annoyed look. “I’m trying to
tell
you. On the way back from the barn, we saw two Gypsies riding their horses in the distance. One had a big white horse. A real beauty.”

With a sigh I brushed a lock of Stefan’s damp hair into place. “Just because you saw two riders in the distance does not mean they are camping anywhere nearby.”

He swiped my hand away from his head. “But they are. Freddie and me went lookin’ after school. There’s a whole bunch of ’em camped south of town. We hid in the bushes, but one of the men spotted us. We couldn’t outrun him.”

I gasped and clutched Stefan’s hand. “Did they hurt you?”

He shook his head and yanked his hand away. “No, but you’re hurtin’ my hand. They were nice to us—even let me pet that big white stallion.”

“You are going to be in trouble when Vater finds out what you’ve been up to. What if those Gypsies had decided to keep you there and never let you return home? Then what? We would have never known what happened to you.”

Stefan tightened his lips in a smirk. “You’d probably have the hardest time, ’cause then you wouldn’t have anyone to holler at.”

“I do not holler at you. Only once in a while do I raise my voice—and only when it is needed. And I think Vater will do more than raise his voice once he knows what you have done.”

“Please don’t tell him, Gretchen. You can tell him I saw Gypsies, but don’t tell him Freddie and me went down to their camp.” He grabbed hold of my hand and looked up at me with pleading eyes. “Ple-e-e-ase. I promise I won’t go down there again if you don’t tell him.”

“For sure? You promise?”

He bobbed his head until his hair tumbled forward. “I do, I do. Thank you, Gretchen.” He pecked an unexpected kiss on my cheek.

Before he turned away I caught sight of the heightened color in his cheeks and was glad one of his young friends hadn’t stepped inside the store. Poor Stefan would be teased for weeks if his friends thought he got along with his older sister.

He shifted and looked over his shoulder. “Where is Vater?”

“He took a shipment of calicos over to the train depot. He hoped you’d be home to help him after school, but when you didn’t come straight home, he went on without you.”

Stefan’s eyes clouded. “Did he think I was in trouble with Brother Ulbricht and had to stay after school?”

“He didn’t say, but I’m sure he will have some questions for you when he comes home.”

Stefan shuffled back to the counter. “Still promise you won’t tell?”

I met his worried gaze. “I doubt Vater will ask me. His questions will be for you. And remember, it is not proper to tell a lie.”

“I know. I know.” He turned away and trudged to the far side of the room and began to unload a crate of salves, ointments, and tonics, careful to place each one on the proper shelf. I wasn’t certain if he thought his good behavior would erase his earlier misdeed, but I didn’t ask. I was pleased to have him do his work without an argument.

The sight of my brother bending over the crates without complaint stopped my Vater in his tracks when he returned to the store a short time later. “Hard at work you are, ja?” He strode to where Stefan was stooped down beside a crate. “Where you were after school? I waited and waited for you. I needed strong young arms to help me with the bolts of calico, and the other men were busy in the warehouse.”

Stefan stood and placed several bottles on the shelves. “Freddie asked me to go with him after school. I know I should have come home and asked first. I’m sorry, Vater.”

Stefan’s back remained turned toward my father while he gave his explanation. I thought he probably was afraid his eyes would give him away. Any time my father thought we were telling a lie, he would make us look at him so he could see if there were any yellow spots in our eyes. Stefan still believed Father could tell if he wasn’t being honest. Though Father couldn’t really see yellow spots, he could look into our eyes and see if we were telling the truth. Stefan’s story today was half true. He had gone with Freddie after school; he hadn’t lied, but he hadn’t told the whole truth, either.

My father ruffled Stefan’s hair. “You are doing a gut job. There are three more crates in the back waiting for you. And from now on I expect you to come straight home after school. If there is not work waiting for you here, you have your school lessons to keep you busy, ja?”

Stefan groaned, but he didn’t argue.

“Gretchen, we will be busy tomorrow, so I will need you in the store most of the day. There are orders coming and going on every train arriving and departing this week. You will need to keep a sharp eye, for I hear tell there are Gypsies headed our way. They may already be camped outside of town.”

Wide-eyed, my brother turned and looked at me.

“Stefan, you need to hurry or you won’t have all those crates emptied by suppertime.”

He took my cue and turned back to his work. “Who told you about the Gypsies, Vater?”

“A man on the train. He said he saw two on horseback. Then later he saw a whole caravan of them headed in our direction. If they come into the store, you should be careful they don’t take anything, Gretchen. Too many things they stole when they were around here last summer.”

“Not all Gypsies steal. Some are gut,” Stefan said.

“That may be, but I know they took much from us last year.” My father wheeled around to face Stefan. “Is one thing if we choose to give help to those in need, but I do not want them to think they have a right to come and steal from us. Sometimes I think they would rather steal than ask for help.”

“I think these Gypsies are nice.” Stefan’s lips smacked shut, and his eyes widened until they were the size of two giant walnuts.