A Shining Light (7 page)

“Nein. You have done nothing.” Sister Erma tapped her finger alongside her eye and lowered her voice. “Sister Greta has an eye
for Brother Dirk. I think she is jealous that you will have his attention this afternoon. You should not let her comments bother you.”

“Maybe I should tell her that I am not looking for a husband. Do you think that would help?”

Sister Erma chuckled. “Nein. I think she would deny her interest in him. I have heard her whispering with the other women. She thinks he would make her a gut husband, but I do not think Brother Dirk has an eye for her.”

I didn't want Sister Greta to be angry with me, but I had no choice in this matter. Brother Bosch had instructed me to be ready when Brother Dirk arrived. I motioned to my son. “Come along, Lukas. We are going to go to Marengo with Brother Dirk.”

The boy hopped up from the table and scurried across the room. “The town where we got off the train?”

I ruffled his hair and smiled down at him. “Yes. You have a good memory. You were so tired when we arrived, I didn't think you would remember the name of the town.”

He beamed and straightened his shoulders. “Brother Dirk says I have a good memory, too. I have learned the names of all the machines and most of the tools in his shop. When he asks for something, I know what he wants and can fetch it for him so he can keep working. He says I've been a big help to him.”

Though I doubted Lukas could provide a great deal of help in the tinsmith shop, it was good to know that Brother Dirk provided encouragement to him. After having received nothing but disparaging remarks from his father, Lukas needed affirmation, especially from a man.

“I'm very proud to hear you've been helpful.”

“Danke.”

Spoken in German, his simple thank-you was a reminder that whether I liked it or not, my son was becoming accustomed to
life in the colonies. No matter that I hadn't yet placed him in school with the other children, he was like a sponge soaking up the customs and language in which I'd immersed him.

“You're welcome,” I replied. “We don't have to say everything in German, Lukas. We're still allowed to speak English.”

“But Brother Dirk says I'll learn faster if I speak in German all the time.”

Before I could reply, the kitchen door opened and Brother Dirk stepped inside. “Guten Morgen, Brother Dirk,” Lukas called as he rushed toward the tinsmith. I was surprised when the boy wrapped his arms around Brother Dirk's waist and asked the tinsmith a question using perfect German.

The tinsmith chuckled. “Danke.
Ich
bin . . .
” He glanced at me and switched to English. “I am happy to be here, Lukas.”

Sister Greta stood at the other side of the kitchen, her gaze fastened upon the unfolding scene. Her frown had been replaced by a tight smile. “
Guten Tag
, Brother Dirk.” She stepped around the worktable and flashed him a winsome look. “We have a few utensils that could use repair. I would be glad to bring them to your shop later today.”

“
Ach!
There is no need for you to make a trip to the shop. I can take them now. I'll leave them with Werner on our way out of town.”

Sister Greta's drawn smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “I would be happy to—”

Before she could complete her reply, Brother Dirk shook his head and stepped forward. “Which ones need my attention?”

Left with no choice, Sister Greta gathered the utensils and handed them to him. He traced his hand over the handles and the bowls of the large spoons and ladle. “Ja, these are in need of repair. I'll bring them back to the Küche in a few days.”

With a look of defeat, Sister Greta retreated to the other side of the kitchen. I wanted to say something that would reassure her but decided to heed Sister Erma's advice. Besides, with Brother Dirk present, anything I might say would cause her embarrassment.

Brother Dirk tucked the utensils under his arm. “You and your Mutter are ready for our trip to Marengo?”

Lukas bobbed his head. “Ja!”

“Yes!”

I'd enunciated the word with such force that Sister Erma turned to look at me. “Something is wrong?”

I swallowed hard and softened my tone. “No, nothing is wrong, I'm just doubtful I'll meet with any success.”

“Who can say what is success, Sister Andrea? You must trust the Lord that He will see to your needs. He has taken care of you and Lukas so far, and I know He will continue to provide.” She patted my shoulder. “You need to put your trust in God, not in a bank, ja?”

I didn't want to contradict her in front of Lukas and Brother Dirk, so I gave her a quick smile and followed my son and the tinsmith out the door. To my way of thinking, it wasn't God who had taken care of us but the colonists. They were the ones who had seen to our needs. Maybe Sister Erma considered it the same thing, but I didn't.

Once we'd settled in the wagon and begun our journey, Brother Dirk pushed his hat further back on his head and looked in my direction. “Sister Erma has some gut advice, ja?”

“You mean about trusting God?” Not wanting to meet his intense stare, I tightened my hold on the side of the wagon and focused on the wild flowers blooming alongside the dirt road.

“Ja. He is a gut provider, don't you think?” He lightly slapped the reins and the horses picked up their pace.

“He didn't provide for us when we lived in Baltimore—it was Mrs. Adler, a woman who lived in our building, who supplied us with enough food to keep body and soul together. And it has been Sister Erma and the elders who have provided for Lukas and me since we arrived in the colonies, not God.”

Brother Dirk chuckled and shook his head. “Have you not realized that God uses people to help other people? I do not think there has been any food dropping from heaven since the Lord fed the Israelites. God places a burden on the hearts of His people to help others. What you have received has been from God. He has been at work in your life helping you and Lukas survive.”

I didn't want to disagree with Brother Dirk, but in this idealistic place he'd not dealt with the harsh realities I had experienced. Where had God been when my husband hit me? Where had He been when I held my crying son because he was hungry? Brother Dirk might be correct, but I didn't want to give credit to God for food or anything else that had helped me. If God had been hard at work to help us, surely He would have provided more than Mrs. Adler's bread and jam. Surely He would have protected us from Fred's abuse. I tamped down the thought that I had been the one who'd chosen to marry Fred and leave home. Brother Dirk's argument was persuasive, but I found it much easier to blame God.

When I didn't offer a response, Brother Dirk quietly talked with Lukas about handling the horses and then offered the reins to the boy. “You try to see if they will obey.”

Lukas squared his shoulders and grasped the reins. After only a moment, he looked up at Brother Dirk. “How am I doing?”

“You are doing gut. The horses are staying on the road, and that's what we want, ja?” Brother Dirk leaned back in the seat and glanced at me. “You are unhappy the boy is learning to speak German, Sister Andrea?”

This man certainly didn't hesitate to ask questions. “I'm not sure where we will be living, so I don't want him to become too accustomed to speaking German all the time.”

“The boy will not forget his English so soon. I think it is gut to know how to speak more than one language. It has helped you, has it not?”

He was right. While living in Baltimore, it had been of occasional help to speak German, and now that we were living in the colonies, I was pleased I could understand what was being said—at least most of the time.

“I just don't want Lukas to think this is his permanent home when I have no idea where the future will take us.”

“I think that means you don't want him to like it too much, because if you want to leave, you fear he will protest. Am I right?” He shot a grin in my direction. “You can be truthful with me, Sister Andrea. I will think no less of you if you say you do not want to remain here.”

“I'm not sure what I want—and that's the truth. When I left Baltimore, I wanted to return to my father's home and provide stability for my son. Now I don't know where I belong or what I want.” I hesitated a moment. “Except, I do know I want to provide my son with a happy home.”

Lukas glanced at me. “I'm happy right now, Mama.”

“You see? The boy is content with God's provision. I hope you will soon find the same peace in your heart, Sister Andrea.”

What was it that made this man and his arguments so compelling? Was it the tenderness of his voice, or perhaps his masculine build? Or was it his strong jaw and his sparkling blue eyes? Perhaps it was the kindness he exhibited toward Lukas and me. Or maybe it was a combination of all those appealing characteristics that warmed my heart.

The trip to Marengo had been for naught. My father didn't have any money deposited in the bank, and as far as Mr. Fellows, the current bank president, could determine, my father had never conducted any business at the Marengo bank. A lanky man with a quick smile, Mr. Fellows had done his best to help me. While we talked, he suggested that Papa might have sent the money to another relative. When I advised there were no other living relatives, he suggested Papa might have invested the money in some other venture, such as mining. I immediately disregarded that possibility.

Although some thought farming a bigger risk than wagering money at the gaming tables, my father had disagreed. He considered himself a wise steward of his money and his farm a wise investment. In truth, he didn't believe in get-rich-quick schemes or understand people who did.

As we parted company, Mr. Fellows offered to make inquiries at other banks in the area on my behalf. I thanked him and gave my permission, though I didn't believe he'd find anything. I was now certain the money had gone up in flames when the house caught fire. Then again, perhaps Father had found a safe place to hide it somewhere on the property.

Once on our way, I glanced over at Dirk. “Do you think my father might have hidden the money in the barn?”

He arched his brows and shrugged. “I do not know, but if you want to look, we can go over to the farm before we return to the village.”

I nodded. “Perhaps it will set my mind at ease to know for sure.”

By the time we arrived at the barn, Lukas was fast asleep in the bed of the wagon. Dirk turned and smiled at the boy before he alighted and helped me down from the wagon. “Let him rest. This will not take us long.”

Together we walked into the cavernous barn. When we'd first arrived, Lukas had explored most of the main floor and discovered only a few old farm implements, but another look wouldn't hurt.

Dirk motioned toward the loft. “I will go up there and look while you see if you can find anything down here. Unless you would prefer climbing the ladder?”

His wide grin told me he was teasing. “I think I will leave that for you. I am not fond of ladders.” As he strode across the barn, I began my search in the areas that Lukas might have missed.

A short time later, Dirk returned down the ladder. “There is nothing up there except some old tools. Anything down here?”

I shook my head. “No, I'm afraid not.”

“Did you look in all of the feed bins?”

“There was nothing in any of them. I'm sorry to have taken your time.” I was certain making this journey would put him far behind schedule with his own work.

“Do not apologize. Is best to look and then you can set your mind at ease. Better you know for sure the money is not here.”

I was thankful for Dirk's kind attitude. Unfortunately, the events of this day had furthered awakened memories of the discord that had existed between my father and me. Had I been the son my father always wanted, he would likely have kept me informed of his business dealings. Then again, if I'd been his son rather than his daughter, I would have remained and worked the farm, and it would never have been sold. Throughout my early years, I'd longed for a closer relationship with my father, but as I grew older and he continued to withhold his attention, I'd given up trying to make him love me.

I had hoped Lukas would fulfill Papa's desire for a son. Deep inside, I thought he might finally love me for giving him the gift of a grandson. But that was not to be. Perhaps it was best that I'd tamped down my love for him years ago. Though his death had made my circumstances more difficult, I hadn't suffered the grief I'd experienced when Mama died. She had loved me with every fiber of her being. But Papa? He'd wanted a boy so much he'd never even said he loved me.

When I left home with Fred, Papa was incensed. He wanted Fred to remain and farm the land, and he counted it against me when we departed for Baltimore. His harsh words remain emblazoned on my heart.
“You want to
escape the farm. If you'd really tried, you could
have convinced your husband to remain in Iowa.”

Over and over, I told him Fred was the one determined to leave. Yet my father didn't believe me. Instead, he chose to place
the blame at my feet. If only Papa had understood. If only we'd resolved our differences before he died. If only I had refused to marry Fred. If only . . .

Lukas was still sleeping when we got back in the wagon and didn't wake until we neared the kitchen house. Once we rumbled to a stop in front of the kitchen and Dirk set the brake, he jumped down and helped Lukas from the wagon.

The moment the boy's feet hit the ground, he looked up at me. His blue eyes glimmered with excitement. “Since Grandpa's money wasn't at the bank, does that mean we get to stay, Mama?”

While Lukas was delighted by the prospect of remaining in the colonies, I viewed our future less enthusiastically. “We'll remain for the time being, Lukas—until I can sort everything out.” In truth, there was nothing else to sort out, but I wasn't prepared to admit I had no option but to remain here. For all of our married years, Fred had made the decisions about our future. After our first year of marriage, I had longed to return to the farm, but Fred wouldn't hear of it. Now that I had the power to decide where Lukas and I would live, I didn't have the resources. A wave of sadness rushed over me as I realized the irony of my current situation. It all seemed so unfair.

I startled when Lukas clapped his hands. “Does that mean I can go to school? You said you would let me go if we stayed here.” When I didn't immediately answer, he grasped Brother Dirk's large hand and tugged. “Tell her to let me go, Brother Dirk.”

Brother Dirk shook his head. “Nein. It is up to your Mutter to decide what is best for you. Maybe she needs a little more time to seek the Lord's guidance about the future.”

Undeterred, Lukas released Brother Dirk's hand and turned to me. “Then we should go to prayer meetings. If we go there, everyone can pray for us.”

Brother Dirk chuckled. “One thing at a time, Lukas, or you will test your Mutter's patience. Give her a little time before you ask so many questions.”

I was thankful Brother Dirk didn't press me to give Lukas an immediate answer. Both Sister Erma and Brother Bosch agreed with Brother Dirk: They all thought Lukas should be attending school.

Lukas danced from foot to foot, unable to contain his excitement. “Will you decide about school before Monday? Please, Mama?”

“You should listen to Brother Dirk and give me time to think, Lukas.”

“Brother Dirk didn't say you should think. He said you should pray.” Lukas tipped his head and looked up at the tinsmith. “Isn't that right, Brother Dirk?”

“Ja, that is true, Lukas, but your mother must then think about what the Lord reveals to her.” He shot a smile in my direction. “Ja, Sister Andrea?”

“If the Lord reveals anything to me, you can be sure I will think about it, Brother Dirk.”

“Aw, that's gonna take too long. I don't have anything to do while the other kids are at school.” Lukas stuck out his lower lip and folded his spindly arms across his chest.

“Since you want an answer right now, Lukas, I think we should wait and see if we are still here when school reopens in the fall. The school will soon close for the summer, and it makes more sense to wait.”

Dirk shook his head. “School does not close for the summer in the colonies, Sister Andrea. The children are dismissed from classes to help with the onion and grape harvests, but there are classes all year.”

“All year?” The air slowly escaped my lungs. “Then you will have to wait a while longer for my answer, Lukas. I'm not yet ready for you to begin school.”

When Lukas grumbled, Dirk touched his shoulder. “You should not argue with your Mutter, Lukas. You need to accept and trust her decisions. She wants what is best for you.” Although Lukas didn't appear pleased, he didn't offer any further complaint. Dirk stooped down in front of the boy. “If your Mutter agrees, maybe the three of us could go fishing tomorrow afternoon. On Sunday afternoons, there is time for a few hours at the pond.” He glanced up at me. “What do you think, Sister Andrea? Would you like to spend an afternoon outdoors?”

Lukas opened his mouth, but Dirk sent him a warning glance. “Let your Mutter decide, Lukas. If she doesn't want to come along, maybe she will agree to let us go alone.”

I wasn't certain who appeared more hopeful: Dirk or Lukas.

“If Sister Erma does not need my help tomorrow afternoon, then we can go.” I wasn't eager to fish, but the outing would be good for Lukas, and I hoped it would take his mind off of attending school—at least until Monday morning.

Instead of waiting for me, Lukas ran inside. I was thanking Dirk for escorting us to Marengo when Lukas came flying out the kitchen door. “Sister Erma says you can go fishing with us tomorrow.” He beamed at me. “Isn't that good news?”

I turned and met Dirk's warm smile. “It seems we will be going fishing with you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Gut.” He stepped to the wagon. “I better return the horse and wagon to the barn. I told Brother William I would be back before supper. I don't want him to worry.”

When I entered the house, Sister Greta was alone in the kitchen. She greeted me with an icy stare that sent a shiver racing down
my neck. No doubt she'd been in the kitchen when Lukas talked to Sister Erma about the fishing expedition. I silently chastised myself. Why hadn't I thought of her before accepting Brother Dirk's invitation?

Pushing aside Sister Erma's earlier advice, I stepped to Greta's side. “Have I done something to offend you?”

Her frown deepened as she studied me for a long moment. “Why do you encourage him?”

“Encourage him? You mean Brother Dirk?”

“Ja, of course that is who I mean. Is there some other man you are encouraging, as well?”

“I'm not encouraging Brother Dirk or any other man. Listen, Greta, I have no interest in a marriage. I don't even know how long I will remain in the colonies, so you should know I'm not going to encourage the affections of any man who lives here.”

Greta removed a kettle from an overhead hook and banged it onto the worktable. “If what you say is true, why are you going fishing with Brother Dirk tomorrow afternoon?”

While she emptied jars of green beans into the kettle and seasoned them with bacon, I stepped closer. “Because he offered to take Lukas. I think he is trying to help my son adjust to the loss of his father and these new surroundings.”

“I don't see why you need to go along. If it is Lukas he is trying to help, then why has he included you in the invitation?”

“Maybe he hopes to help me, as well, Sister Greta. My son and I have both lost a great deal in the last months, and our lives have been in a state of turmoil.”

I thought I detected a momentary look of shame in her eyes. “You may be right. Maybe his only thought is to help your son, but I think it is more than that. If you are not careful, you will cause others to suffer.”

Her words gave me pause. I wasn't sure if she thought I was going to hurt Dirk or her. Or did she think I would hurt both of them? I wanted to reassure her, but I doubted anything I said would ease her concerns. And in some respects, I understood her apprehension. Dirk was a handsome man with attributes any woman would desire in a husband and father. And, truth be told, I hadn't failed to notice that he possessed the many good qualities Fred had lacked.

Perhaps Greta's unease had been aroused because I'd displayed little sorrow since my arrival. After all, I'd lost both my father and my husband. Unlike most women who would be grieving the recent losses, I'd exhibited none of the deep anguish she'd likely expected to see.

She had no way of knowing that my love for Fred had been destroyed years ago—that as I'd suffered his abusive words and deeds, I had slowly grieved the loss of the man I thought I'd married. Though I was loath to admit it to others, word of Fred's death had filled me with relief rather than sorrow, but that didn't mean I was looking for a replacement. Likewise, she had no way of knowing my father and I had been estranged for many years.

“I could use your help in the dining room, Sister Andrea.” Sister Erma stood in the doorway and motioned me forward. “Be sure to season the green beans, Sister Greta,” the older woman instructed before disappearing into the other room.

I followed after Sister Erma. Any further discussion with Sister Greta would have to wait until another time.

After the noonday meal on Sunday, Sister Erma bustled into the kitchen. “No need for you to stay here, Sister Greta. The dishes
are washed and dried, and I won't need your help until time to prepare for the evening meal.”

Greta didn't budge. “I told my Mutter I would be here all afternoon. She agreed that with Sister Ursula away, I should stay and help.” Greta lifted her nose in the air and pinned me with a disapproving look. No doubt she thought my absences from the kitchen were unfair, but Sister Erma was the one who made decisions regarding who would work and who could be gone.