A Hidden Truth (17 page)

One by one, I continued reading the letters. Most of them contained nothing that I did not already know about my mother. Resignation that I would never discover anything new assailed me. After one more letter, I would quit reading. As I had with each of the previous missives, I carefully unfolded the pages and scanned the contents. The date at the top of the page reflected this letter had been written only a short time after my mother and her family departed East Amana. On the second page of the letter, I stopped and reread the passage.

When you are able, please tell E that I continue to miss him and that my heart is broken. Nothing can change what happened. I know he, too, regrets our failure to act in good time. Still, I will always be thankful I had the opportunity to love him, and I hope he feels the same.

If I had forced matters further and fought to remain in East, it would have created an irreconcilable breach with my parents. I know the advice of the elders was sound, but I had hoped they would convince Father to remain in the colonies. But all of that is now in the past.

As for the situation with the baby, I know E's mother was not eager for the added responsibility, but I was helpless in the situation. I am thankful for her willingness to step in and take my place. I know she will be good to the child. Please keep me posted about the baby's progress as you are able.

I must close for now. Please write soon.

Your loving cousin,
Barbara

I gasped and clutched my chest. A
baby.
And who was this E that my mother claimed to love? My thoughts raced as I tried to make sense of the letter's contents. Surely this was the man Sister Elsa had alluded to while we were quilting at Sister Fuch's. But who was he? And whose baby was she inquiring after? I attempted to swallow but felt as though a noose had tightened around my neck. Had my mother given birth to a child before she left the colonies? Was E the father? Had the disgrace caused her parents to take my mother and leave?

My breath turned shallow as I considered the possibilities. I willed my hands to cease quivering and returned the letter to the envelope. Then I reached for the stack. There were many other letters. Perhaps one of them would tell me more.

At the sound of footsteps on the stairway, my heartbeat quickened. After returning the packet to the table, I rushed from the bedroom and into the parlor. I grabbed my cleaning rag, and for the second time that morning, I dusted the grandfather clock.

My heart was pounding so hard, I was sure Cousin Louise could hear it when she entered the room. Her eyes shone with concern as she looked at me and then glanced down the hallway. “There is something I need to take care of in the bedroom.” Moments later, she returned to the parlor. “You have already dusted in the bedrooms, ja?”

“Yes.” The look in her eyes told me she knew I'd been in there—and that she was troubled. Hoping to ease her concern, I forced a smile. I didn't want her to question me further. “I'll be downstairs as soon as I finish dusting in here.”

“Gut. Soon it will be time to start the noonday meal.” She trod from the room, her footfalls slow and heavy as she returned downstairs.

Once I was certain Cousin Louise would not hear me, I returned to the bedroom and opened the door. I fastened my gaze on the table. The packet of letters had disappeared. There would be no opportunity to read the remaining letters, and now I was left with more questions than answers.

CHAPTER 17

Karlina

Dovie's lack of enthusiasm baffled me. When I'd departed that morning, she had been excited about the possibility of going sledding. But for some reason, her earlier fervor had disappeared. Convincing Father that he should permit both Anton and me the privilege of going off to play in the snow for an entire afternoon had not been easy, but we worked hard and completed our tasks before the noonday meal. After complimenting us on our fine work, my father willingly granted his permission.

A light snow began to fall as we walked out of the kitchen. The sleds stood leaning against the fence, the runners waxed and gleaming in the afternoon sun. Anton walked ahead of us to retrieve the largest one. As we followed, I looped my gloved hand through Dovie's arm. “What is wrong with you? I thought you were looking forward to this afternoon. Now you are as sour as Sister Bertha.”

She smiled at the reference to the old sister who constantly shushed us during meals. “Even with lots of practice, I don't think anyone could match Sister Bertha.” She reached for the smaller sled.

The snow crunched beneath our feet as the three of us trod toward the hill beyond the cemetery, Anton on one side of me and Dovie on the other.

Leaning forward to see around me, Anton gestured toward the hill. “Is Berndt going to meet us?”

Dovie appeared distracted, and I nudged her arm.

“I think he's coming, but I'm not sure. I told him we would be sledding, but I don't know if his father will have other work for him this afternoon.”

Anton arched his brows at me, and I shrugged. Dovie obviously had no interest in talking, and though she continued to pull the smaller sled behind her, I wondered if she had lost all interest in our outing.

I reached for her free hand. “You didn't tell me what is bothering you.” I squeezed, and her thick knitted mitten squished beneath my fingers. “I have known you long enough to realize when something is not right. Did you receive a letter from your Vater?”

“No. He hasn't written for some time now.”

“So that is why you are unhappy? You expected a letter today, and it did not arrive?”

She shook her head. “I know he is busy. When we parted, I understood I wouldn't hear from him often. Most men don't enjoy letter writing like women.”

“Ja, but I am sure he likes to receive your letters. You have been faithful to write to him every week.”

I waited to see if Dovie would offer some other reason for her change of mood, but she remained quiet. Twice more I prodded her for a possible reason, but she offered nothing.

Soon the whooshing blades of our sleds cut through the snow and echoed in the cold wintry silence. I hoped that once we reached our destination, Dovie's excitement would return. The sun reflected off the whiteness that surrounded us, and I squinted as I gazed toward the rolling hill.

“Someone is waving. It looks like it might be Berndt up there!”

Dovie nodded. “It probably is.”

My concern shifted to irritation. “I thought you would be happy to see him. Is there nothing that will cheer you?”

Her lips curved into a wavering smile. “I'm sorry. We'll have lots of fun.” She picked up her pace and chattered about the beauty of the snow, but I didn't miss the strain in her voice. Each word was forced and artificial, totally unnatural.

“I thought I had misunderstood your message this morning.” With a smile as broad as a barn door, Berndt ran toward us. “It's almost two o'clock.” He pointed to a spot not far off. “I got a fire started.”

“We couldn't leave until Dovie finished in the kitchen,” I said. “But we're glad you waited.” I nudged Dovie's arm. “Aren't we, Dovie?”

“What?” She bore that same distracted look again. “Oh yes. I'm glad it snowed.”

Berndt appeared confused by her answer, and so was I. Still, he smiled at her and motioned to his sled. “Ready to go down the hill?”

She shook her head. “I think I'll warm myself by the fire. The rest of you can go ahead.”

“Why don't you and Anton try your sleds?” I suggested. “By the time you come back up the hill, we'll be ready to give it a try.”

Berndt's disappointment was evident to me, although Dovie didn't appear to notice. Or if she did, she chose to ignore his feelings. Side by side, we walked toward the fire while the men got onto the sleds. Berndt had surrounded the glowing wood with thick logs, and I wondered if he'd brought them from home. If so, his father wouldn't be pleased to discover their woodpile had diminished in size.

Dovie sat down on one of the logs, and I lowered myself to the space beside her. I waited for a moment while she stared into the fire. Finally I could stand the silence no longer. “Either you tell me what is wrong or we might as well return home. This isn't any fun at all!”

“I'm sorry, Karlina.”

“I don't want an apology; I want to know what is wrong!” Perhaps my irritation would shake her loose.

She clutched her hands together and turned her head toward me. “Promise you won't say anything to your mother.”

“I promise. Now, what is it?” I clenched my jaw and waited.

“Do you know anyone in East named Erich?”

“Oh, ja, there are three—maybe four, I think.” I thought for a moment. “No. Just three. Erich Heinimann is now living in West.”

She edged closer. “How old is he?”

“I do not know. I think maybe he is a little older than my Vater. Why?”

Dovie didn't bother to answer before continuing with another question. “What about the other Erichs? How old are they? Do they still live in East?”

She leaned toward me as though my answer would make some great difference in her life, yet I couldn't imagine why she'd suddenly developed this powerful interest in men named Erich.

I inhaled a deep, cold breath of air. “Well, there's Erich Wiesler. He is six or seven years old.” I scrunched my brow and attempted to remember. “Maybe he is eight.”

She waved at me as if swatting a pesky fly. “He doesn't matter. Who else?”

I wanted to tell her Erich Wiesler mattered a great deal to his family and friends, but Dovie's impatience grew more intense. “There are two others. One is a little younger than me. Berndt knows him.”

When I mentioned asking him, she shook her head. “No. He doesn't matter, either. What about the final one?”

“There is Berndt's father. His name is Erich. He is older than my Mutter, but not by too many years, I don't think. Berndt could tell us how old he is.” I looked toward the hill and cupped my hands to my mouth, but before I could call out to Berndt, Dovie grabbed my arm.

“No! Don't ask him. It does not matter.” She jumped to her feet. “Don't tell anyone I asked you about this. You promised.” Her jaw settled in a tight line, and her lips opened only a slit as she hurled the command. I didn't miss the panic in her voice or the fear that shone in her eyes.

I took her arm. “Please, Dovie. Sit down.” I tugged a little more, and she lowered her weight onto the log. “I do not know what all of this is about. I would like you to tell me, but I cannot force you.” She opened her mouth to interrupt, but I held up my hand. “I promised I would not say anything, and I will not.” Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I said, “I hope you know that you can trust me with your secrets.”

I felt her shoulders relax beneath my hand. Perhaps I had helped, but I couldn't be certain. When Anton and Berndt returned to the top of the hill, they waved for us to join them. I was surprised when Dovie jumped to her feet and hurried to Berndt's side.

She sat on one sled, and I settled on the other. I glanced over at her as Anton and Berndt prepared to shove off and jump behind us. She smiled, but I could see it was a forced gesture. For the rest of the afternoon, we went up and down the hill, three of us taking great pleasure in the pastime while Dovie only pretended to have fun.

Although I didn't think Berndt or Anton had noticed the difference in Dovie's behavior, Berndt appeared at the barn the following day. Anton and I were working on a new apparatus he thought would be helpful when the lambs were born in a few months. Berndt strode across the barn and stooped down beside us. He stared at the contraption and scratched his head.

“Exactly what is that?”

Anton looked up from his work. “This is going to help us to feed the lambs if the ewes have multiple births or do not have enough milk.” Anton lifted the tub in which he'd cut holes and was attaching hoses. “At least that is my plan. Karlina hopes there will be no need to use it, and so do I. She says it is best if the mothers can feed their babies without the need of our help.”

Berndt studied the apparatus before asking several questions. “You're quite gut at thinking up new ideas.” Berndt tapped his finger to his head. “Very smart.”

Anton glanced back down at the tub. “Danke, Berndt. It is nice of you to say so. Are you not working this afternoon?”

“Ja. I must go and cut wood in a little while. The barn is on my way, and I wanted to talk to Karlina for a minute.” Berndt looked at Anton. “About Dovie. I want to talk to her about Dovie.”

Anton chuckled. “Ja, well I think you need to ask Karlina. For sure, I do not answer for her.”

He nodded. “But if Karlina says she will speak to me, you do not mind? I don't want there to be any more problems between us.”

“There will be no more problems between us, Berndt.” Anton reached for a piece of hose, inserted it into the bucket, and then looked at me. “I would like to keep working on my feeding machine, so maybe the two of you could go to another part of the barn to have your talk, ja?”

“I think we could do that.” I smiled at Anton before I stood and walked alongside Berndt to a nearby stall. A breeze cut through the open door of the barn, and the familiar smell of hay and damp wool filled my nostrils as I turned toward Berndt. “You want to talk about Dovie. What is it you want to know?”

He pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “She acted very odd yesterday. Several times I asked her what was wrong, but she continued to tell me that nothing was the matter and she was having a good time. But I could see that she wasn't. And her mind was somewhere else.” He rolled his cap and shoved it into his pocket. “Did she say anything to you? Have I done something to make her angry? All night I tried to think of anything I'd done or said that might be improper, but I could think of nothing.”

What could I say to him? I had no answers. “She didn't act like herself yesterday, but I do not think it had anything to do with you. Although she didn't mention anything, I wonder if she was feeling unwell yesterday. You should not worry yourself, Berndt.”

“That is what I tell myself, but it is hard when you care for someone like I care for Dovie.”

My throat caught at his declaration. “Have you told her that you care for her?”

Berndt pulled his hat from his pocket and wrung it between his hands. “A little. I think she knows, but I must be careful. To fall in love with a girl from the outside presents more problems than even I know how to handle.” He leaned against the wooden slats of the stall. “Do you think Dovie intends to remain in the colonies?”