More Than Words (10 page)
I wondered who was with the schoolchildren but didn’t ask. Such a question might imply I didn’t trust the teacher’s judgment. And nothing could be further from the truth.
He mopped his brow one final time and shoved his handkerchief into his pocket. “Stefan brings me here in the middle of the day, Sister Gretchen. This is the third day he has been absent from school, and I am concerned about his illness. Did you receive my message?” His head pitched forward several inches, and he stared at me with bulging eyes.
My throat constricted, and I wondered if my voice would fail me when I attempted to speak. I opened my mouth, and a weak croak escaped my throat. I coughed. “No, no, I di-di-dn’t receive any m-m-message.” Fear and anger collided inside my stomach and set it roiling. Where was Stefan? If he hadn’t been in school for more than two days, where had he been? My thoughts reeled. The past two evenings he’d asked me to bring his supper home to him so he could continue working on his school assignments. He’d likely feared Brother Otto would see him at supper and inquire about his absence. And here I had thought he’d turned over a new leaf and was dedicating himself to making good grades. I clenched my hands until they ached.
“I thought as much. Today at recess I pulled Freddie aside and quizzed him. He could not look me in the eye, and when I threatened to talk to his Vater, he said he didn’t know if Stefan was sick or not.” Brother Otto leaned back in the chair. “So this is why I come here. To learn for sure the truth about Stefan.”
How I wished my father would walk through the door and take charge. I didn’t want this role of substitute mother. “Stefan is not ill, Brother Otto. I thought he was at school. He left this morning with his books. I have not seen him since then.”
“And the last two days? I looked, but I did not see him in the Küche for his supper either night.”
I cleared my throat. “He said he had a great deal of schoolwork to complete. Both evenings he asked if I would carry his supper home to him.” Brother Otto peered over the top of his glasses. His stern look took me back to those days when I’d been a student in his classroom. I wiggled in my chair.
“So he has lied to you, to me, and to God.”
The pronouncement sounded harsh. I wasn’t sure Stefan had discussed the matter with God, but the fact that he’d lied did mean he needed God’s forgiveness. “Ja, for sure he lied to you and to me.”
“And where do you think young Stefan is spending his days?”
“I can’t be sure, Brother Otto, but I will do everything in my power to find him. Once my Vater returns to the store, I will begin my search.”
“And you must tell your Vater everything so that he may deal with Stefan. I understand you are not his Mutter, but you are the next best thing.” He tapped his finger against the rim of hair that surrounded his bald head. “Is too bad your Oma isn’t so good in the head anymore. Sister Helga could make him mind, for sure.” He placed a palm on each knee for leverage and pushed to a stand.
I jumped to my feet. “Thank you for your concern, Brother Otto. You can be sure that Stefan will be in class tomorrow.”
“Ja, I will be expecting him. You should walk him to school in the morning to make sure he arrives.”
That was the last thing I wanted to do. My mornings were already filled with chores at the store and looking after Oma. Now Brother Otto thought I should walk Stefan to school? I gritted my teeth at the very idea. Just wait until I found my brother.
My thoughts scattered in all directions as I walked to the door with Brother Otto. I bid him good-day, feeling as though I was the one who had been chastised for missing school. Anger took hold and I marched back to the counter. Maybe I should walk Stefan to school and let him suffer a bit of embarrassment. It would serve him right. After all, I’d been required to endure Brother Otto’s lecture.
I wasn’t certain where to begin my search. I glanced about the store. Conrad would help me—he’d know what to do. Then again, I couldn’t leave the store until my father returned.
Brother Otto had been gone only a few minutes when Conrad reappeared at my side. “Problems with Stefan?”
“Ja. He has been missing from school for two days now. I must go and look for him when Vater returns. There is no telling where he might be. I don’t know where to begin. Maybe I should talk to Freddie. He might know.” I scanned the store. “Did Mr. Finley go back to the hotel?”
Conrad shrugged. “I think he’s out by the apple tree, but maybe that would be a gut place for him to wait for your Vater. I don’t like him in here all the time talking sweet to you.”
“He is not accustomed to our ways. Once he knows better, he will speak in a proper fashion. Besides, he does not talk sweet to me.” I felt heat rise in my cheeks.
“Ach!” Conrad slapped his palm on the counter. “What do you call it when he says you are unforgettable? Is that not sweet talk?”
I sighed, not knowing how I should answer without starting an argument. We had mended our last argument over Mr. Finley, and I didn’t want another. “First you think I am in love with a Gypsy, and now you say Mr. Finley talks sweet with me. Honestly, Conrad, you try my patience. Right now I must worry about Stefan.”
He tapped his chest with his index finger. “I was not the one to mention Mr. Finley’s name. You’re the one who wanted to know if he had returned to the hotel.”
“Could we talk about Stefan?”
With a nod he shifted and rested his hip against the counter. “There’s no need to waste time asking Freddie. His loyalty is to Stefan. He will tell us nothing, but I’m certain we can find your brother.”
“You know where he is?” My excitement mounted.
“Not for sure, but the first place I would look is at the Gypsy camp.”
I shook my head, unwilling to consider the idea. “He would not go there, Conrad. He promised. He gave me his word.”
“Ja, but he is a boy, and boys like excitement. These Gypsies and that white horse, they are enough to make him take a risk and break his promise. He probably only intended to go down there for an hour or so before school, but then it was too much fun for him to leave.”
A group of visitors entered the store, and I lowered my voice and hissed. “Fun? If he is at that Gypsy camp, it will be a long time before he has any fun again. I must take care of these customers, but as soon as Vater returns, I’m going to that Gypsy camp.”
“Nein. You must not go down there alone. Come to the barbershop when you are ready to go. I’ll close the shop and put up my sign that I’ll return in an hour.”
I grinned at him. “I hope you have your sign in the window right now, or one of the men might be wondering if the barber ever is in his shop.”
“You are right. I had better go back, but promise you will come for me. Or better yet, that your Vater would go with me.”
“No! Stefan made his agreement with me. I should be the one to go after him, but your company would be welcome.”
While Conrad strode toward the front door, I approached the small group of visitors and gave them a shortened version of my speech. With thoughts of Stefan and the Gypsies skittering through my mind, it was impossible to concentrate. Besides, the women were more interested in the lace and fabric than learning about our customs or faith. After pointing them to the items, I returned to my position behind the counter. There were shelves that I could stock, but I pulled out my journal and began to write. Writing would calm me more than sorting and shelving.
I was well into my story about the disappearance of my brother when one of the customers motioned to me. “I could use some help over here.” I slipped from my stool and hurried across the room. The moment I approached, all three ladies decided they needed assistance with their selections. The fact that outsiders requested my help always surprised me. It would seem more logical for them to rely upon the opinions of one another rather than a store clerk wearing a dress of untrimmed dark blue calico. But now that I’d had an opportunity to look through the ladies’ magazines Mr. Finley had left in my possession, I believed I could lend a bit more expertise. When one of the customers pulled a bolt of beige, red, and navy plaid, I dug through the trims for red braided cording and held it up for her inspection.
“Oh, that is absolutely perfect,” the woman cooed. “Look at this, Rose. Isn’t it an ideal match?”
The woman known as Rose nodded her head and signaled me to join her. She pointed to another piece of fabric. “Find me something even better to go with this,” she whispered. “I don’t want Jean attending club meeting in a dress that will gain more attention than mine.”
Though I didn’t understand such silliness, I searched through the trims and laces until I found a length of crocheted lace with a thread of pale pink woven into the design. When I held it aloft for her inspection, she leaped to my side and grabbed my arm.
“Put it down. I don’t want the others to see what I’m choosing.” A slight blush colored her cheeks. “This may sound strange to you, but I don’t like others to copy what I wear.” She tipped her head close. “And given the slightest opportunity, Rose is prone to imitate my clothing. Rather childish of her and highly annoying.”
I didn’t respond, for I thought she was behaving in a childish manner, too. “If you’d like, I’ll take these to the front so I can measure and cut them for you.”
The woman instructed me to cut ten yards of fabric, but before I could move, she grasped my arm. “Could you hide the bolt of fabric under your skirt so my friend won’t see it when you return to the counter?”
My jaw dropped a notch. “No. I don’t think that will be possible.” I hesitated a moment. “Do you still want the fabric?”
She huffed a discouraged sigh. “Yes, of course I want the fabric
and
the trim. I suppose I can step in front of her and block her view. Let me get into position.”
After receiving the woman’s signal, I carried the bolt of fabric and trim to the counter, all the while wondering how she had expected me to walk with a bolt of fabric beneath my skirt. I dropped the fabric onto the counter.
I’d measured out the fabric when my father entered through the back door and approached the counter. “Mr. Finley is going to help me unload the wagon, and then we will be leaving so he can visit the other villages. I am depending on you to look after things, Gretchen.”
I kept my gaze fastened on the fabric. “I have a few errands I need to complete. When do you plan to return?”
“Hard to tell. I think we will eat the noonday meal in Middle Amana or maybe Main. It will depend upon how many questions Mr. Finley has and what he wants to see. He will meet with the Bruderrat here in Homestead this evening after prayer service. If you must be away from the store, ask Sister Veda to come for a short time and take your place. Your Oma can watch after her baby while Sister Veda assists customers.”
“Thank you, Vater. I will check with her.” I didn’t mention I needed someone to watch after Oma as much as I needed someone to help in the store.
While I cut the fabric and trim for the other customers, I thought about Mr. Finley’s offer to have a poet read my work. At first I told myself that having a poet read my poems wouldn’t change my desire to write. Whether he thought the poems good or bad shouldn’t matter in the least. Still, to have someone with knowledge affirm my ability would be a pleasing thing.
Vanity
. The word crept into my thoughts like an unannounced intruder, and I shoved it aside. Perhaps this poet could write down ways in which I could improve my poetry. The thought excited me. Maybe I
would
send a poem with Mr. Finley. Maybe.
Oma had been quiet for most of the day, and I prayed she’d remain on good behavior. When my mother was alive, we’d seldom needed help in the store, but now Sister Veda occasionally stepped in when needed. During my mother’s illness, she’d been assigned to lend a hand when asked. She’d excelled in her ability to work with customers, and she’d quickly learned our system. For residents of the society, she’d write the information on a paper so I could enter and balance their individual ledger sheets later. For other customers she maintained a list of what was purchased and the cost so I could balance the cash box and keep a record of the inventory. After my mother’s death, Veda returned to her work in the Küche, but two years ago, she’d given birth to a daughter.
Like all mothers in our villages, Veda had been permitted to remain at home with the baby until she turned three years old. But Veda still took pleasure in helping at the store whenever we needed her. I checked on Oma to make certain she remained asleep, placed a sign in the window, closed the door to the store, and hurried to the home of Veda and her husband. When she appeared at the door, I explained my need for her to watch the store for a short time.
Her little girl grinned at me but clung to her mother’s skirts. “I am glad you have come and asked. I’m eager to see a few new faces. I will be there in fifteen minutes. I need just a little time to gather the things I will need for Trudy.”
After stooping down to give Trudy a peck on the cheek and a quick hug, I raced toward the barbershop. I skidded to a halt when Brother Bertram stepped across the threshold. “You are in one big hurry, Sister Gretchen. Is not gut to run on a hot day.” He patted his cheeks. “Your face is all red from the heat.”
