Love Finds You in Amana Iowa (12 page)

From the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Faust approach them. She didn’t want to talk to the man nor did she want to tell him that Friedrich was gone.

With a quick swivel on her heels, she marched back toward the main street. Matthias could say what he wanted to Mr. Faust. She needed to start unloading her supplies into her new kitchen house. She had planned to wait a day or two before she began cooking again, but there was no reason to wait now. Her responsibility was to cook for the people in Amana, and she would start right away.

Sorrow and doubt leave me fearful and shaken;
Oh, who will help me when nobody can?
Christian Metz

Matthias kicked the rock in front of him and watched it fly down the road. As the stone rolled away from him, it pushed away everything that was in its path. Just like Amalie Helene Wiese.

He kicked another rock, venting his own anger under his breath. The woman didn’t look back as she fled around the meetinghouse, running away from her problems. Like ignoring her anger or sadness would make it better.

For a moment there, he thought Amalie might actually grieve Friedrich’s decision like the rest of them. Or at least express her anger. But if she cared for Friedrich, the feeling was buried so deep within herself that she might never be able to express it. All she cared about was her kitchen. Her stupid, sterile kitchen where the only pain she might feel was a flesh wound from the cut of a knife or burn from the stove. Nothing that would wound her heart or soul.

He’d hoped for Friedrich’s sake that Amalie had grown above the self-centeredness that plagued her most of her life. But apparently her coldness was going to be a permanent trait, just like her father. And her mother.

Congratulations, Amalie.
If she couldn’t have Friedrich, at least she would have her kitchen.

He kicked one last stone and watched it roll far away from him.

Maybe it was good that Friedrich had gone off to war before he married Amalie. When he returned, he would discover what she was really like, and he would change his mind. Maybe he would marry Sophia Paul or another woman instead.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Matthias stepped away from the tree and saw the wagon master at the end of the street, watching him.

Matthias’s shoulders stiffened as he eyed the man.

What if Friedrich had been waiting for Amalie in the village? He would have been devastated to watch the woman he’d pledged his life to laughing with another man, a man clearly enamored by her.

The wagon master took the six or so steps over to Matthias. “My name’s Faust.”

Matthias reached out his hand for a firm shake before he folded his arms over his chest.

“Did you two quarrel already?” Faust asked.

“Amalie and I always quarrel,” he blurted, and then he wished he hadn’t spoken. It was none of this man’s business whom he fought with or why.

“I wouldn’t let her be angry too long,” Faust said. “She might start looking to marry someone else.”

Matthias almost said that was fine with him, but that would have been an outright lie. His relationship with Amalie was too complicated for him to understand, much less explain to a stranger.

“Amalie can marry whom she pleases,” he replied.

Faust’s eyebrows climbed with disbelief. “You better be careful, my friend. You might lose her.”

“She’s not mine to lose,” he muttered as he turned away from the man.

The bell rang for the noon meal, but instead of swarming to the kitchen house with the others, Matthias stole through the back streets of the village. He didn’t want to see Amalie again, nor did he want to answer any questions about her kitchen.

Some of the men would spend the rest of their day visiting with those who’d arrived, listening to news from Ebenezer and of their travels. But most of the people Matthias loved wouldn’t arrive in the Kolonie until next month, so there was nothing else for him to do except return to the woolen mill.

It took less than ten minutes for him to reach the mill. Inside he climbed the ladder to the second floor of the structure and walked to his tool chest at the side of the room—a gift crafted by Friedrich’s
Vater
and given to Matthias when he turned sixteen.

He reached under the top drawers and dug through the planes and joiners until he found his jack plane. As families reunited across their village, as Friedrich was off someplace fighting this war, Matthias pressed out his frustration across a floorboard until it was smooth. Then he moved to the next piece of wood.

At least he had plenty of work to do in the mill. Someone else would have to build Amalie Wiese her new kitchen.

* * * * *

The moment Amalie rounded the corner, she bent over, grasping herself around the waist. A sharp pain bludgeoned her belly and shot through her entire body as she struggled to breathe. Friedrich Vinzenz had left her. Instead of waiting to marry her, or even waiting to say good-bye, he had gone off to war.

Amalie collapsed back against a stone wall as she tried—and failed—to steady her breathing.

How could Friedrich have done this to her? He said he would be here, waiting for her when she arrived from New York. He had to know the news of his departure would devastate her.

She wrapped her arms around her chest, forcing herself to breath more slowly. In and out.

Could it be that the thought of marrying her was so bad, the only way he could get away was by joining the infantry? Perhaps he left all of them because of her. Because he didn’t want her as a wife. He’d run away before she arrived, left her behind, and given his best friend the job of telling her he was gone.

As a woman turned the corner toward her, Amalie pushed away from the wall to tug her sunbonnet low over her face. If the villagers didn’t recognize her, maybe they would stop welcoming her to Amana and stop watching for her reaction about Friedrich’s decision.

The bell rang out again, and she forced her legs to start walking toward the kitchen house. She would find one of the elders and ask where her new kitchen was located. As long as her hands stayed busy, she wouldn’t have to think about her loss or her future.

As she climbed the steps to the dining room, she pushed her sunbonnet back over her shoulders and walked through the narrow door with her head held high. People filled the dining room, and before them was a meal of salami and cheese spread out on platters, fresh blueberries piled high in communal bowls.

To her left was the kitchen, and she saw the graying hair of the older sister, Henriette Koch, bent over the stove. Back in Ebenezer, when she was a teenager, Amalie had worked for four very long years in Henriette’s kitchen.

Brother Schaube was on her right, preparing to sit down on a bench, and she moved toward him. When he saw her, he looked like he might slip away like the rest of them, but instead he stepped forward to greet her. His eyes were hidden under his thick spectacles, his smile as solemn as the figures on the stained glass she’d seen in Lisbon.

“We tried to stop him—” he began, but she stopped his apology before he finished. She didn’t want to talk about Friedrich’s choice with him or anyone else.

“I wanted to speak with you about my new kitchen.”

“Your kitchen?” he repeated as if he was as stumped as Matthias by her question.

“You wrote to me,” she reminded him. “You and the other elders asked me to start a new kitchen house in Amana.”

“Indeed,” he replied, sounding relieved that she didn’t want to speak about Friedrich. “The kitchen will be completed soon.”

“Soon?” Her voice escalated with indignation. “It was supposed to be ready when I arrived.”

“There was work to be done on the woolen mill before we could complete the new kitchen.”

“Where will everyone eat—”

“There are three kitchen houses in Amana.” He took a seat and reached for a pitcher of
Hinbeerensaft.
Raspberry juice. “It might be crowded, but we have enough seats for everyone until the next group arrives in September.”

She couldn’t wait until September to begin working in her kitchen. She needed to start today.

He took a long sip of the juice and then began stacking meat and cheese on his plate.

“All I need is a stove,” she said.

He scooped up a bite of meat on his fork and held it in front of him. “We’ve ordered one from Cedar Rapids, but it won’t arrive for another month.”

In spite of all the people crowded in the room, it was silent. She should wait to talk again, until after the elder was finished eating, but she’d traveled almost eight hundred miles to reach this valley. Now the man she was planning to marry had deserted her and she didn’t even have a kitchen to work in. There was no place for her to run now. No place for her to hide.

She didn’t want to speak with Brother Schaube about her marriage, but he could at least tell her about her kitchen.

“What still needs to be finished?” she pressed.

He lowered his fork. “The cellar is complete.”

“Only the cellar?”

“We’re building a strong structure, Sister Amalie. Your kitchen will be standing a hundred years from now.”

She took a step back. At this moment she didn’t care if the kitchen lasted a thousand years. She needed it right now.

He pointed at the food in front of him. “Join us for a meal,” he directed, but she shook her head. She didn’t think she could eat.

“Do you have a room ready for me?”

He took a deep breath, apparently relieved that she didn’t press him further about her kitchen.

“We have a temporary room where you can stay until the kitchen house is built.”

She glanced over to the next table, at Brother Schaube’s wife. Rosa Schaube was a small woman but a strong one. Sister Schaube would understand.

“I need something to do with my hands,” Amalie said. “Just until the kitchen house is complete.”

“There is plenty of work for you here,” he agreed. “We have already assigned you a place.”

“Where?”

He tilted his head down, his words barely audible. “Here, in Sister Henriette’s kitchen.”

She stared at him.

“That won’t be a problem, will it?” he asked, looking up at her again.

She hesitated. Her years working for Henriette had been challenging on the best days, devastating on the worst ones. But it didn’t matter right now. As long as there was a job for her to do, she would try to be content.

“Karoline Baumer came from Ebenezer to work with me.”

He nodded. “The kitchen in Middle Amana has requested her services until the new kitchen is complete.”

She took a step back. For so long she’d been looking forward to arriving in Amana, but nothing was as she had planned. She needed to get out of the dining room, away from all the eyes.

“I need to go to my room,” she muttered.

Sister Schaube slipped off her bench, reaching for Amalie’s arm. “I will show you the way, dear.”

Comfortless Thy soul did languish
Me to comfort in my anguish.
Ernst C. Homburg

Rain sprinkled on the canvas tent and trickled in through the leaks in the roof. Friedrich brushed a splatter of rain off his face, but the shower didn’t stop him from packing his things this morning. He placed the trousers and shirt he had brought from Amana into his knapsack and the one extra cartridge box the army provided for him.

After using one piece of stationery to write Amalie yesterday, he had two pieces of paper along with two envelopes to keep in his knapsack. Once he received his first month’s wages, he would buy postage and more supplies to write her again along with Matthias and his parents.

Around him the soldiers were dressed in their new blue uniforms and caps. They worked efficiently, joking with each other as they folded their woolen blankets and the oiled ground cloth they would sleep on in the field. Friedrich was tucking his sewing kit into his sack when one of the soldiers grabbed the kit out of his hands.

“Whatcha got there, Fred?” Private Earl Smith held the kit high above his head. “You gonna knit some socks down in Tennessee?”

“I can mend mine if they need it. Or I can mend yours.”