A Shining Light (5 page)

“You can draw! Why didn't you tell me?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Brother Urbinger told me that drawing wasn't important.”

I knew the schoolteacher frowned upon the children using their time for anything other than their regular lessons—and art was not included in those lessons. I didn't want to contradict the teacher, but I wanted to affirm Werner's talent. “Maybe it is not as important as your other school lessons, but I am thinking that your ability to draw might be useful here in the shop.”

A spark shone in the boy's dark brown eyes. “Ja? You think so? What could I draw for you?”

“Maybe you could draw patterns for a few new cookie cutters.”

He bobbed his head. “For sure, I could do that.”

Though I knew Werner's ability to sketch wasn't the skill most
needed in the shop, an idea flashed into my mind. Perhaps if he could complete the entire process of drawing and making his own creation into a usable cookie cutter, he would pay more heed and put my instructions to good use. If the idea worked, such a project could give him a sense of pride as he developed his skills. I smiled at the thought. There was no way to be certain if the idea was an answer to my earlier prayer, but I believed it was, so before picking up the drawings for further examination, I uttered a quiet thank-you.

Andrea

One morning during our first week in the colonies, Brother Bosch departed after breakfast to go to High Amana to meet with other members of the
Grossebruderrat.
He had agreed to present a list of questions I'd posed regarding my father and his property.

Brother Bosch had explained that each village had a group of elders known as the
Bruderrat
who made decisions for their village. He'd also told me a little about the Grossebruderrat.

From what I understood, the population of each village determined the number of representatives who served on the Grossebruderrat. While the Bruderrat made decisions for their own village, the Grossebruderrat made decisions that affected all of the villages. So as not to show any partiality about where they would gather, the meetings moved from village to village. This month they would meet in High Amana.

“When the Grossebruderrat met in West two months ago, they chose to eat their meals in my Küche.” As if remembering the event, a slight smile played at Sister Erma's lips.

The thought of serving meals to fifteen or twenty additional men caused me to cringe. “I'm sorry. I know preparing extra food must have been a burden.”

As she shook her head, a wisp of graying hair floated free and danced about her right ear. “Nein! To serve the Grossebruderrat is an honor. Every
Küchebaas
is hopeful her Küche will be chosen as the one to serve the elders.”

Taken aback by the stern tenor of her voice, I quickly changed my frown into a smile. “Then I am pleased they chose your Küche. No doubt they were delighted by your preparations.”

“They ate as though they had never before had such gut food.” A hint of pride colored her comment, so she quickly added, “But I am sure they do the same at each Küchehaas. The elders are quick to show their appreciation.” She inhaled a deep breath. “I am sure all of the Küchebaases in High have been waiting with great anticipation for the last week. I will be interested to hear who they chose.” She swiped her hands down the front of her apron. “Of course, they must take turns in order to prevent hurt feelings, but they have their favorite Küches in each village.”

I arched my brows. “And how do you know this?”

She chuckled. “Brother Bosch has told me. Besides, they choose to eat more than once in the Küches they prefer. They eat in mine every third visit.”

The older woman attempted to tamp down the pride in her voice, yet her effort didn't succeed. But I understood. Like everyone else, Sister Erma needed an occasional pat on the back—indicating her efforts were appreciated. While married to Fred, I'd longed for a kind word about my efforts to be a good wife and mother, but those words hadn't ever come.

Instead, I'd received his rancor and criticism for the meager meals I'd provided. Of course, I'd never understood how he
thought I could prepare a decent meal when he didn't give me enough money for the necessities. Instead of being thankful for the potatoes and broth I would set before him, he'd heap his drunken criticism upon me. After hearing him repeat the same condemnation throughout our marriage, the words had become seared into my mind, and I carried them like a scar.

“Ja, is gut to have the Grossebruderrat eat in your Küchehaas.” Sister Erma's comment pulled me from the disturbing thoughts of Fred, and I looked up to meet her intent gaze.

Before he'd departed, Brother Bosch explained that the Grossebruderrat met only once a month, so I considered myself fortunate they were meeting so soon after my arrival. Sometimes the group would forgo their meetings if the men were needed to help during planting or harvest. But this month, even though plowing had begun, the men decided to hold their council.

After the noontime meal, as I was helping Sister Erma in the kitchen, I asked, “When do you think Brother Bosch will return to West?” I didn't want to sound impatient, but I was eager to learn what answers I would receive.

“Depends upon how much business requires the attention of the elders and how easily they reach their decisions. Sometimes they discuss matters for a long time. Other times, not so long, but I don't expect Brother Heinrich will return until after the evening meal.”

I sighed and hoped she was wrong. Then again, if the answers he brought weren't favorable, perhaps it would be better not to know too soon. “Do you think he will come to the Küche and speak with me or wait until tomorrow?”

Sister Erma patted my shoulder and smiled. “Who can say? For sure, not me. I do not know any more about what Brother Heinrich and the others will decide than you. If you remain busy, the
time will pass quickly. Weeds are always growing in the kitchen garden. I am sure Sister Verona would appreciate your help. She is preparing the garden for planting vegetables.”

“Yes, of course. I'll be glad to help her.” I removed a wide-brimmed sunbonnet from one of the pegs near the back door.

Sister Erma had instructed me to use the bonnet whenever I went outdoors. “To protect you from the sun and to present yourself with modesty,” she'd said.

I hadn't argued. I was pleased to have the protection. Long ago I'd learned that even when the sun wasn't particularly bright or the temperature overly hot, my fair skin had a tendency to burn. After suffering a few childhood sunburns, I'd learned to protect myself with a sunbonnet and long sleeves when working outdoors.

Sister Verona greeted me with a welcoming smile, though she didn't stop hoeing the weeds when I approached. She tipped her head to one side and peeked from beneath her sunbonnet. “You come to help me, ja?”

“Yes. Where would you like me to begin?” She pointed to a spot not far from the row where she'd been busy pulling weeds. “Carrots?” I asked, noticing the short, fernlike growth above the earth.

She chuckled. “Nein, weeds. We have not yet planted the vegetables. Once the weeds are cleared and the ground is warm enough, then we will plant.” She leaned down and grabbed several of the invading culprits and tossed them atop the pile she'd already pulled. “Would be easier if the vegetables grew as fast as the weeds. I have asked the gut Lord why He made the weeds to grow so quickly, but He has not yet given me an answer.” She chuckled and glanced heavenward as though she half expected the heavens to open and an answer to burst forth.

“There is another hoe in the shed.” She pointed to the open door of the wooden structure. “Just inside the door and to the right.”

I followed her instructions and found the hoe. By the time I returned to the garden plot, Sister Verona had completed the length of a row and begun on another. She moved with the speed of a seasoned worker, chopping weeds from the ground with expert ease. Once I set to work, I soon matched her stride. It had been years since I'd worked in a garden, but during my early years, I'd worked alongside my mother, cultivating the large garden on our farmstead. Mother had given excellent care to her vegetable garden, and I sensed Sister Verona possessed that same desire to see things grow.

“You have a very large garden.” I leaned on the end of the hoe and surveyed the huge plot.

“Ja, we are most fortunate to have our garden close to the Küche. Some of the Küchehaases do not have a great deal of space around them, so their gardens are planted far away. Most of those are even larger than ours, and they have a
Gartebaas
who raises the young plants and oversees all the garden work.”

“So you have no Gartebaas?”

“I am the Gartebaas, but I am also a Küche helper. Sister Marta has a much larger garden, and she grows the seedlings for our garden as well as her own. Gartebaas is her only job, so she has the time and the space to nurture the young plants, while I have neither the time nor the necessary room.”

Though I didn't completely understand the assignment of duties or how such matters were determined, I withheld any further questions and continued to chop weeds. I'd been working for nearly an hour when I realized I hadn't seen Lukas lately. He'd asked to play outdoors while I was talking to Sister Erma in the kitchen, but I hadn't seen him since I'd come outside.

My heart thrummed a new beat as I ceased the chopping motion and surveyed the area. “Sister Verona, have you seen Lukas?”

“Ja, he was here a while ago. I saw him over by the pump, but I have not seen him since then. Maybe he went back into the house.” Her lips curved in a delicate smile. “Maybe he hoped for another piece of bread and jam. You go and see. I will continue hoeing.”

I hurried from the garden, crossed the patch of grass, and climbed the step onto the back porch just as Sister Erma opened the door. She took a quick backward step to avoid a collision. “I'm sorry.” I glanced around her shoulder hoping to catch a glimpse of my son. “Is Lukas in the kitchen or maybe up in his room?”

“Nein. I have not seen him since you told him he could play in the yard. Maybe he is out by the chicken coop. Did you look there?”

I had to admit I hadn't, but I'd told him before he shouldn't go there. “No, but he knows he's to play in the backyard.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “He is a boy, and they like to wander. If he is not at the chicken coop, I am sure he is nearby.”

Though I worried I wouldn't locate him, I did as Sister Erma instructed. After a quick patrol along both the sides and front of the house, I rushed to the chicken coop. My spirits wilted like a flower in need of a drink. Lukas was nowhere in sight. I called his name several times, but to no avail. Fear clutched and gnawed at my insides until I thought I might lose the contents of my stomach. Instead of returning to the kitchen house, I strode to the front of the house and hurried along the wooden sidewalk bordering the dirt road. My shoes clacked on the thick boards as I passed the tailor's shop, the broom-maker's shop, the cooper's, and the furniture-making shop. At each door, I peeked in long enough to see that my son was not inside.

My gaze traveled toward the huge barns that were at least a half mile from where I stood. Surely he hadn't gone that far. I was preparing to turn around and check the shops on the other
side of the dirt street when I heard laughter. Was that Lukas? I hurried toward an open door and looked inside.

The man who had delivered our trunks was standing at a workbench with his young helper. And Lukas was standing between them, laughing as though he hadn't a care in the world.

“Lukas Wilson!” I hadn't meant to shout, but my fear and anger outweighed my capacity to remain calm. Like soldiers receiving a command, all three of them swiveled toward me in unison. “What are you doing here, young man? I was worried sick about you. Didn't I tell you to stay in the backyard?”

“No.” He wagged his head back and forth in slow motion. “You said I could go outside, but you didn't say I had to stay in the yard.”

Fearing I might faint, I leaned against the doorjamb. Until that moment, I'd been unwilling to acknowledge my deepest fears. If something had happened to Lukas, I would never be able to forgive myself.

I inhaled a deep breath and turned a steely gaze on the tinsmith. “We have not met. I am Andrea Wilson, Lukas's mother.”

He nodded. “Ja, I know. I am Dirk Knefler, the tinsmith. I am—”

Glowering, I interrupted him. “You, Brother Dirk, are irresponsible. I have been worried sick about my son. I thought he was playing in the yard but then discovered he was gone. Can you imagine the thoughts I had while searching for him?” I didn't wait for an answer but continued to unleash all the fear and anger that welled in my chest.

The three of them stared at me as though they'd been accosted by a lunatic, but I didn't care. They all needed to understand the worry their actions had caused me.

Lukas pointed to the worktable. “Brother Dirk is showing me how he uses these machines to make buckets, and big spoons, and even cookie cutters. I stayed away from the machines like
he told me.” He held out his hand and splayed his fingers. “See? I'm not hurt at all.”

Dirk nodded. “The boy is fine. He wanted to see the machines, and I enjoyed having him here. I was teaching him some German words. Because I must do business with the outsiders, I have learned enough of your language to make myself understood. I thought it would be gut to help him with his German.”

“That isn't the issue, Brother Dirk. You should have realized how worried I would be when I discovered my son was missing.”

Dirk tapped Lukas on the shoulder and motioned that he should speak to his mother. “You have something to tell your Mutter?”

Lukas looked at the floor and scuffed the toe of his shoe against the wooden floor. “I told him you knew I was here.”

“What? You told Brother Dirk a lie? You know better, Lukas. Why would you do such a thing?”

“All the boys my age are in school, and you were busy working. I wanted to talk to someone. When Brother Dirk asked if I had your permission to come to the shop, I told him you knew I was here because I didn't want to leave.” His lower lip quivered. “I like it here and Werner and Brother Dirk are nice to me.”

I knelt down in front of my son. “I don't doubt they are nice to you, but you should not tell lies. You owe Brother Dirk an apology.” I lightly grasped his shoulders and turned him toward the tinsmith.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth.”

Brother Dirk nodded. “I accept your apology, Lukas, but you must also promise that you will never again come here without your Mutter's permission. Do I have your word?” The tinsmith extended his hand to the boy.

Lukas shook Brother Dirk's hand. “I promise.”

As I stood up, I met Brother Dirk's gaze. “And I owe you my
apology, as well. Anyone who knows me will tell you that there are very few instances when I raise my voice in anger, but—”

“Your apology is accepted, Sister. If this fine boy were mine, I would worry about him, too.” He squeezed Lukas's shoulder. “And he is bright. Already he has learned some German words.”