A Hidden Truth Read online

  My lips quivered, and I fought to hold back tears. “This is my fault. I owe all of you an apology.”

  Anton pointed at Berndt. “No. This is his fault. Berndt is the one who came here with his head set for a fight.”

  Berndt clenched his fists. “That’s not true. I saw Brother George when we came through town with the last load of logs. We talked for a few minutes, and he told me the three of you had come down here skating.” He looked in my direction. “I was worried. I told Dovie the ice might be weak, and I wanted to be sure you were all safe.”

  “Ja? So you see we are safe and then you decide to fight with me?” Anton’s lips curled in anger.

  Karlina and I formed a barrier between the two men. They were acting like schoolboys, each one trying to best the other. “Would you please let me talk?” I said. “If you are still determined to fight once I explain, then I will step out of the way, and you can knock each other senseless.”

  My final comment captured their attention, and the two of them silently listened while I explained the mishap. “I now realize we should have told you, Anton. You should have had the right to make your own choice.” I turned toward Berndt. “And you should not have jumped to conclusions without first knowing the truth.” I took a deep breath. “I take full blame for creating the misunderstanding, but I do not take blame for the injuries you inflicted upon each other.” I shook my head. “The two of you must decide how this will end.”

  Karlina grasped Anton’s arm as she looked back and forth between the two men. “For anyone else to know what has happened here will serve no gut purpose. Would it not be better if the two of you apologized and we all agreed that this was a grave mistake? I, too, am at fault. Not one of us can say we acted in a manner that would please our heavenly Father.”

  Anton extended his hand to Berndt. “I am sorry that I hit you. I sometimes think with my fists instead of my head, and it causes me no end of trouble. I hope you will forgive me for my poor behavior and lack of brotherly love.”

  Berndt took a tentative step forward and shook Anton’s hand. “And I ask that you forgive me for my unkind words. I spoke in anger, knowing that my comments would cause a fight.” He bowed his head toward Karlina and me. “I also ask that both of you forgive me. My jealous nature has ruined your afternoon.”

  Karlina’s lips curved in a feeble smile. “Then we are all agreed that nothing shall be said to anyone else?”

  The four of us bobbed our heads in unanimous agreement. Given our options, we’d made the best decision for all of us. At least that was our hope.

  All night I tossed in my bed like a ship pitching in an angry storm. Though I was usually out of bed before the first morning bell, I didn’t rise until ten minutes after the second bell had chimed. Even then, I didn’t move with any speed, and I was late going downstairs. As I entered the kitchen, Cousin Louise returned inside carrying the oversized bread-laden tray. A whoosh of cold air skittered across the floor before she closed the door. She settled the tray on the worktable and hurried to the stove.

  “When I said I wanted you and Berndt to become only casual friends, I did not mean you should quit meeting the bread wagon, Dovie.” Her teeth chattered as she added more wood to the fire.

  “I am sorry, Cousin Louise. I will be sure to be on time tomorrow morning.” I had expected her to be pleased that I’d missed seeing Berndt but decided she disliked the cold more than she feared Berndt and me talking to each other. Besides, how much could we talk now that she’d made certain his schedule had changed?

  “I need a little help upstairs this afternoon, but then you may do as you like for the remainder of the day. Perhaps you and Karlina can go skating again. She said you fell only one time yesterday. A few more afternoons, and you will be skating as gut as the rest of the young people.”

  “Instead, maybe you and I could visit this afternoon. I would enjoy hearing some stories about my mother. You said she was happy here, and it would give me pleasure to hear of her childhood.”

  A glimmer of wariness clouded Cousin Louise’s eyes. “We will see. I have much work to do. Besides, there is little of interest that I can tell you.”

  I poured the coffee beans into the grinder and began to turn the handle. “Anything will interest me. What is it you think I am looking to hear, Cousin Louise?”

  “I don’t know, child, but my hours with your Mutter were spent playing games, picking grapes, learning to knit and crochet, and memorizing Bible verses and our guide for daily living. You can learn as much about her childhood by observing life in the village as I can tell you.”

  “But surely you know what made her happy and the things she liked—things that others might not have enjoyed.”

  Cousin Louise shook her head. “We all enjoyed the same things, Dovie. Our lives in the colonies are similar. We took pleasure in our dollhouses and the tiny furniture our grandfathers and fathers made for us. We laughed when we went wading in the pond during the heat of summer.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “You desire to know your mother’s innermost thoughts, but only she could have told you those things. And we stopped writing letters a long time ago, when you were still a child.”

  The other kitchen workers arrived, and Cousin Louise hurried away to give instructions—and to get away from me. At least that was what I believed. I was sure she could tell me much more about my mother—if only she would.

  After the noonday meal, I followed Cousin Louise upstairs and helped dust the parlor while she worked in the bedrooms. I waited and hoped she would mention my mother, but she didn’t. Instead, she dismissed me with a cheery smile. “You should go and practice your ice skating.”

  I hesitated in the doorway. “Why did you and my mother quit writing to each other?”

  “Your Mutter stopped answering my letters.” She picked up the broom and dust rag and walked by me. “I need to finish cleaning.”

  I couldn’t imagine why my mother would suddenly cease corresponding with her cousin, but to say anything further appeared to be useless. I would bide my time a little longer and continue to hope my father wouldn’t send for me. I lifted my coat from the hook, buttoned it tight around my neck, and pulled on my mittens. Perhaps Karlina would join me at the pond. I picked my way down the slope and entered the barn through the smaller door.

  “Is anyone in here?” The smell of hay and damp wool permeated the air. I walked a little further into the barn. “Karlina? Anton?”

  “Over here, Dovie.” Karlina’s voice trailed from the far side of the barn. I walked in that direction but couldn’t spot her. I was about to call out again when she stood up. “We’re working on Anton’s watering invention. Come and see.”

  I approached the spot where the two of them were working. “Anton thinks we can manage to bring fresh water into the barn by using his new method.”

  “Ja, but first I must get the water to flow properly through the tubing and inside. There is much to figure out.”

  I did my best to appear interested and listened while he explained a bit about the process, but when he went to look for another container, I stooped down beside Karlina. “Would you like to go skating with me? I am done with my work, and your Mutter has given her permission.”

  Karlina glanced toward Anton. “I promised to help him with this, but I will go tomorrow if you like.”

  I stood up and took a backward step. “Maybe I will go and try a little by myself. Are the skates down here?”

  Karlina jumped to her feet. “I don’t know if that’s such a gut idea. Do you think it is smart to go by yourself? You might fall and if you are hurt . . .” Her voice trailed off as if to let me imagine the consequences.

  “I don’t plan to fall down. If I’m not back by the time the bell rings, you should come and look for me.” Worry glimmered in Karlina’s dark eyes and I smiled. “I promise to come by the barn before I return to the house. That way you will know I am safe.” Anton returned with a large tub and placed it on the ground. “And I will ex
pect to see this wonderful watering machine when I return.”

  “Ja, well you can expect whatever you want, but it will take more than a few hours to finish my work with this.”

  All three sets of ice skates hung on nails pounded into a board near the door. “I’ll get the skates and be back in a little while.”

  Anton looked up from his drawing. “Don’t go beyond the line of trees that I showed you yesterday.”

  “I promise to be careful.” I hesitated a moment. “Maybe we should try another English lesson tonight?”

  Anton grinned. “After prayer meeting would be gut, ja?”

  I bobbed my head, waved, and hurried toward the ice skates. I grabbed the pair Karlina had borrowed from her friend and slung them across my shoulder as if I’d been going skating for years. Disappointment assailed me the moment I turned toward the pond. To go skating alone wouldn’t be much fun. If I managed to skate with any grace, there would be no one to cheer for me. Then again, should I fall down, no one would see me. Yesterday I had felt less than ladylike when I landed on the ice with my legs akimbo. And no doubt I’d looked like a chicken flapping its wings when I’d attempted to get up, but Karlina’s encouraging words had boosted my confidence.

  Yet expecting Karlina to be free at my every whim was unreasonable. This was her home and she must complete her chores. I must remember, as a visitor, that I should be more sensitive to the work schedules of the entire family, including Cousin Louise. To press anyone too much might result in my early departure for Texas.

  Instead of disappointment, I should be pleased that Anton wanted to attempt another English lesson this evening. Since Christmas, I had met with him twice. Karlina had joined us both times, and although we’d all had fun, Anton hadn’t learned much English. Tonight I would discover how much he remembered from our previous lessons.

  I sat down on one of the fat logs near the pile of ashes that had provided warmth yesterday afternoon. There would be no fire today. Another reason I wouldn’t be here long. After strapping the skates over my shoes, I picked my way onto the ice.

  “Glide,” I whispered. “No clunky steps. Push and glide. Push and glide.” I said the words over and over as I skated as far as the row of trees and inhaled a huge lungful of the crisp air. Continuing onward, I made a giant circle, never once returning to my clunky hitch step. Proud of my accomplishment, I shouted to the wind, “Look at me! I can skate.”

  “Ja, is gut!”

  Too quickly, I turned toward the approving shout. My skates betrayed me and forced my legs into a scissorlike position. Seconds later I was sprawled on the ice like one of the marionettes I’d seen performing at Washington Park in Cincinnati years ago.

  Using my hands, I turned toward the man who had caused my fall. Already I could feel the cold working its way through my wool coat. He finished strapping on his skates and raced toward me with the precision of someone who had been born with metal runners on his feet.

  “My apology to you. You are German?” He arched his brows.

  His German bore a different accent, one that I couldn’t distinguish. I nodded. “German and English. Do you speak English?”

  He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “I will help you to stand.” He continued to speak in German. He circled behind me, and before I could object, he placed his hands under my arms and lifted me to my feet in one quick motion. He kept his arms around me until I steadied myself, and then he returned to stand in front of me.

  “I am sorry you fall. My fault.” He looked me up and down as though he’d encountered some strange new species. “Where you live?”

  Carefully, I lifted my arm and pointed toward the village. “East Amana.”

  He stared at me for a long moment before he shook his head. “Nein.” He pointed to my head, and then touched the sleeve of my coat. “Not Amana.”

  I had no way of knowing how much German he could understand, so I answered as simply as possible. “I am visiting my family.”

  He smiled and nodded. A hank of black hair fell onto his forehead, and he tucked it under his woolen cap. “I am Jakub Sedlacek.” He tapped his gloved hand on his chest.

  “I am Dovie Cates.”

  “Doovie Cates. I am happy to know you.” Moving his hand from his chest, he pointed toward an easterly stand of trees in the distance. “I live on farm. My family is Czech. You know Czech?”

  I shook my head. So that was the difference in his accent. I knew I’d heard it before. A group of Czech people lived in Over-the-Rhine, but most of them spoke German as well as their native tongue. As a young girl, one of my friends had been Czechoslovakian, but she had learned more English and German than I had learned Czech. I doubted I could remember any of the language.

  He held out his hand. “You want skate some more?”

  Without thinking, I accepted his hand and pushed into a glide. In Cincinnati, skating with a complete stranger would have been unacceptable. But out here in the middle of the countryside on an obscure pond, it didn’t seem to matter that I’d never before met this young man. We were simply two people enjoying the company of each other.

  “At our farm are my mother, father, grandmother, and sister. You come and meet them?”

  “I don’t think my family would like that. They worry if I am gone too long.” I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I couldn’t possibly go to his home.

  He dropped my hand and made a wide circle around me as I continued to skate. “You no need to be afraid. We are gut people. Not like Amana, but still gut. We are Catholic. We work hard. Sometimes I help with Amana sheep.”

  “You help with the sheep?” His final comment captured my interest more than anything else he’d said.

  He pretended to be holding something in each hand, and he moved his arms together and apart in a rapid motion. “With the shearing.” He rubbed his hand down his arm. “Taking off the wool.”

  “Yes. I understand.” I skated closer. “Do you know George Richter and Karlina, his daughter?”

  His blue eyes shone with delight as he nodded with enthusiasm. “Ja. The shepherd in charge and his daughter. Very nice, very nice.”

  I patted my chest. “My family.”

  He arched his brows. “Ja? You daughter, too?”

  “Nein. Cousin.”

  His eyes registered confusion. I wasn’t certain he understood how I was connected, but at least he understood I was related to the shepherd in East Amana. And the fact that he sometimes worked for Brother George provided me with a greater sense of ease. When he reached for my hand, I readily accepted.

  “I bring my sister for meet you tomorrow. You like that?”

  I found his enthusiasm contagious. “Yes, I would like that very much. What is her name?”

  “Sophia. She laughs a lot—happy all the time. Gut heart.” He turned backward and skated facing me. “You want to try?” He drew a half circle in the air. “Backward skate? You try?”

  “Not yet. Maybe when I become steadier.”

  “Maybe tomorrow. Sophia can show you.”

  We’d been skating for a half hour when I pointed to the side of the pond. “I must go now.” I’d already been gone longer than I’d intended, and I didn’t want Karlina to worry.

  Jakub didn’t argue. He skated alongside me and held my arm while I sat on the log. When I reached for one of the leather straps, he covered my hand and moved it to the side. “I do for you.” He removed his gloves and quickly unbuckled the skates, removed them from my shoes, and handed them to me.

  “Thank you, Jakub.”

  He looked up at me, his eyes sparkling with pleasure as the sunlight danced off his black hair. “You welcome, Doovie. What time tomorrow?” He pointed to the sun.

  “One o’clock?” I held up one finger. He gave a firm nod, pushed to his feet, and flew across the pond, his skates creating a whooshing sound as the blades cut into the ice. He waved when he reached the other side.

  I waved and turned toward the barn, my heart feeling ligh
ter than it had since my mother’s death. Odd that a stranger had been the cause of such a joyous afternoon. I hadn’t gone far when I caught sight of someone in a distant stand of trees. I waved, but the figure bolted and disappeared.

  Probably Anton, I decided. And he likely didn’t want me to know that he’d come to check on me. I exhaled a quick sigh of relief, pleased I’d headed home before he saw me skating with Jakub.

  While Karlina prepared coffee after prayer service, Anton and I sat on wooden stools near one of the worktables. I wondered if he would mention watching me at the pond, but when he didn’t bring up ice skating, I began our lesson. Scooting to the edge of the stool, I pointed to my mouth. “Look at my lips so you can see how to form the words and then repeat after me.”

  He nodded his head and stared at my mouth.

  “I laughed with him.” I motioned for Anton to repeat the sentence.

  “I lahvfd vidt him.”

  “Good!”

  “Gut!”

  Both Karlina and I giggled. “You did not need to repeat when I said “good.” I was telling you that you had done a good job.” I pointed to my lips. “We will go far.”

  Anton straightened his shoulders. “Ve vill goh fahr.”

  When I clapped my approval, Anton beamed.

  We continued the lessons until Cousin Louise finally called for us to come upstairs and prepare for bed. “You did very well tonight, Anton. Each day you should repeat what you learned this evening. I think you are an excellent student.”

  His chest swelled. “Danke.”

  “You are welcome,” I said, pleased with the success of his lesson.

  Tonight I had seen a different Anton. This evening I had observed a young man that I liked very much. Little wonder Karlina found him attractive, even if she hadn’t yet admitted it to me—or to herself.

  CHAPTER 13

  Over the past three weeks, I’d met Jakub and his sister at the pond on several occasions. Our times together were always filled with laughter, and their joyful nature rejuvenated my spirit. Although they’d become increasingly insistent that I visit their home and meet the rest of their family, I’d resisted. Meeting them at the pond was one thing, but going to their home was another. To explain skating with strangers at the pond would be easy enough. Leaving the boundaries of East Amana without permission—well, that would be an entirely different matter.