A Daughter's Quest (9 page)

Mary had a speculative gleam in her lively eyes. She put her hands on her hips and laughed. “You already noticed that, didn’t you?”

Constance tried to think of something to change the subject, but just then the topic of conversation came through the back door, accompanied by Jackson. “Here come the men.” She ducked her head and polished an already shining piece of silverware.

Mary turned toward her husband. “So what did Hans think?”

Constance wondered what Mary meant. The men had stepped outside while the women cleaned up the table, but Constance hadn’t known that there was an ulterior motive.

Jackson put his arm around his wife and pulled her close to his side. “He agrees with me. We can do it, and he will help.”

“Help with what?” Constance laid the damp towel on top of the cabinet beside the wash basin and folded her arms. “I’m missing something here.”

Hans smiled at her, and for a moment, her breath caught in her throat. Then he turned toward Jackson. “Our pastor decided we should use the extra land behind the parsonage to start a large garden. Several members of the congregation don’t have access to an area where they can grow vegetables. We could either let them help with the garden, or we could give some of the excess produce to those who need it most.”

Jackson pulled at the button at his collar. “All the details haven’t been worked out, but Hans has agreed to help with the project.”

“I’d like to help, too.” For several years, Constance had been in charge of growing the produce for her family. “I have a lot of experience.”

“This is sounding better all the time.” Mary smiled up at her husband.

When Constance saw the look of love Jackson gave his wife, she wondered if a man would ever look at her like that. She longed for it.

“One of the reasons I wanted to see if Hans would help is that I don’t want Mary to do too much.”

“It won’t hurt me.” She tapped his shoulder with a playful nudge. “We’d like the two of you to be the first to know. Sometime in late autumn, there is going to be an addition to the Reeves family.”

Constance clapped her hands. “Oh, Mary, that’s wonderful. Jackson is right. You shouldn’t do too much. Let the three of us do most of the work.”

“Along with other parishioners who want to help,” Jackson added.

“Friday is usually a slow day at the smithy.” Hans gazed out the back door at the property. “I’ll come over and start plowing.”

Jackson left his wife’s side and leaned one hand against the doorpost. “I’ll be free to help you. We should be able to put in at least a couple of acres or more. That will grow quite a few vegetables.”

Constance turned to Mary. “Do you have a root cellar?”

“Of course.”

“Then maybe you should plan on at least an acre of potatoes. They last a long time in a root cellar and can be used in so many ways.”

Before Constance and Hans left that afternoon, the four of them had planned how to lay out most of the rows. Jackson and Hans decided to call their undertaking the Community Garden.

When Hans arrived at the boardinghouse for supper the next day, his mind was full of all the plans they had made. Without hesitating, he told the others around the table about what was going on. Thomas and Theodore asked a number of intelligent questions about the undertaking.

“I, for one,” Theodore said, “would like to help with this garden. We always had a large one when we were growing up, didn’t we, brother?”

When Thomas nodded, his fringe of hair bobbed. “That’s one of the things I miss by living in the boardinghouse in town. I really like to work in merchandising, and someday, I hope to own my own store, but I do miss the feeling of fresh-turned earth between my fingers.” He got a faraway look in his eyes.

Hans would have never guessed. These brothers dressed like businessmen and talked a lot about their work. “We can use all the help we can get. The plot contains several acres.”

Theodore turned toward Mrs. Barker. “How would you like to have fresh produce all summer?”

A big smile spread across her face. “If we have too much to use, I could always can some for the winter. Then our meals would be more than meat and potatoes in the coldest months.”

Soon conversation buzzed around the table. Hans leaned back in his chair, enjoying all the fuss. This idea fueled so much interest, the group took on the feel of a real family.

“Mr. Van de Kieft.” Martha Sutter leaned around Constance. “Do you think I could let my older students help with the project? Some of them live on farms, but many live in town. It would be good experience for them.”

Hans turned his attention toward Constance. “What do you think?”

She cupped her chin with one hand. “What a wonderful idea! With so many people helping, maybe Mary won’t feel that she has to do too much.”

Hans nodded, wishing he could touch her chin the same way. “I’m going to start plowing next Friday.”

“I’m usually off on Fridays.” Thomas looked at his brother. “I’ll help with the plowing. Maybe my brother can help us with the seeds.”

“Consider it done.” A pleased expression stole over Theodore’s usually solemn face.

Sylvia wasn’t very talkative, but she chimed in, “I can help when you start planting. Just let me know.”

Mrs. Barker got up to start serving the angel food cake Hans had been eyeing ever since he sat down. “It looks as if you have almost a full crew just waiting to help you, Hans.”

“I’m sure Jackson will be glad for so many willing hands.” The piece of cake she set in front of him had to be six inches high. The man who married Constance would be blessed indeed. For some reason, that thought didn’t set too well with all the food he had eaten.

Work on the garden progressed at a fast pace. Constance helped all she could, but Pastor Jackson had asked her to try to keep Mary occupied in pursuits that weren’t too strenuous. That wasn’t an easy task. Mary often insisted that the work helped her gain strength she’d need to deliver the baby.

Constance was so caught up in the baking at the boarding-house and working with Mary that she didn’t think very often about her promise to her father. About a month after she came to Browning City, she and Mary were in the parlor of the parsonage, working on tiny clothing for the baby. Constance had hemmed a flannel blanket, and now she was crocheting an edging around it. A knock sounded at the door.

“You stay there,” she said to Mary. “I’ll see who it is.”

Hans stood in the late afternoon sunlight that slanted onto the porch. Golden rays highlighted his hair and deepened the intensity of his blue eyes. He held his hat in his hands.

“Come in, Hans.” She stepped back, and he entered.

“Don’t get up, Mary. I came to see Constance.”

Constance noticed that Mary had a satisfied look on her face just before she bent to make more tiny stitches in the gown she worked on.

“So what can I do for you, Hans?”

He put his hat under one arm and reached toward his shirt pocket with the other. “When I went to the post office to check for my mail, the postmaster asked me if I would give you this.” He pulled out a slightly wrinkled, smudged letter.

“I wonder who that’s from.” The only person who had ever written to Constance had been Patience, but she couldn’t know that Constance was in Iowa.

Hans grinned. “Open it and see.” He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave.

Constance dropped onto the sofa and studied the missive, turning it over and over. The words written on the outside were her name and General Delivery, Browning City, Iowa. The only people she had told where she was going were their closest neighbors. Bertram and Molly Smith had helped her get through the death of her mother and then the death of her father. She had thanked God for their presence in her life.

Hans still stood in the doorway to the entry hall. “Are you going to open it or not?” He sounded like a child who couldn’t wait to open Christmas or birthday presents.

She turned it over, released the sealing wax, and spread the page flat. She knew the Smiths didn’t have a lot of schooling, just the elementary grades available in their holler. There weren’t many from that area who went as far in school as she had.

The writing looked spidery, but she was able to make out the words:

Constance glanced down to the bottom of the page to be sure it was written by Bertram. It was.

When she saw the figure he had written as a fair price, she could hardly believe it. The amount was more money than she had ever dreamed of owning at one time. With that much, she could live comfortably for quite a while.

“Is it bad news, Constance?”

She glanced up at Hans. While she had been reading the letter, he had taken the chair across from her. She could feel his intent stare as if it were a physical touch.

“No.” She let the hand holding the letter fall into her lap. “I wouldn’t call it bad news. I just don’t know what to think about it.”

“Is it something you want to share with us?” Mary didn’t take her eyes off of her sewing. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Constance glanced from one to the other. “You two and

Jackson are my best friends here, so I don’t mind telling you. Maybe you can pray for me to know what to do.” After picking the letter back up, she read it to them.

When she mentioned the money, Hans widened his eyes at the amount, so she asked, “Do you think that’s fair?”

He stood and paced across the room, turning his hat in his hands. “I don’t know anything about your property. That would buy a pretty good farm around here…but do you really want to sell?”

“I don’t know what I want to do.” She folded the paper in half several times, then thrust it into the pocket of her skirt. “Bertram and Molly are looking out for things while I’m gone. I know that when—if I go back, I’ll have to hire someone to help me. I can’t do everything by myself. I’m not sure I can afford to do that. There’s a lot to think about.”

Hans stopped his pacing and stared out between the front curtains at the waning light. “Have you ever thought about staying here in Iowa?”

He turned back and their gazes connected and held for a long moment. How could Constance answer his question? Just thinking about being here with her new friends, including the man who stood across the room from her, brought happiness to her heart. Maybe mostly because of him. She couldn’t tell him that.

“I like it here, and I feel an accepted part of the community, but I also have to fulfill my father’s dying wish.”

Constance noticed that even though Mary continued sewing, her gaze occasionally darted from one of them to the other. “So, Mary, what do you think?”

Mary put her work in her lap. “I think you were right when you said that you needed prayer. When Jackson comes home, and it should be anytime now, we should seek the Lord about this.”

Hans stood clutching his hat in one hand, staring at Constance. She felt his gaze again.

“That would be nice. However, I need to go to the boarding-house and help Mrs. Barker with supper.” Constance stood.

“Why don’t you come back after supper? You come, too, Hans.” Mary laid her sewing in the basket at her feet.

“Ja, I agree.” Hans came back to stand beside Constance. “May I walk over there with you?”