A Shining Light Read online

  His light brown curls flew into disarray as he shook his head. “That’s not it. Guess again.”

  I scrunched my forehead into tight wrinkles and pretended to be contemplating my next response. “You made a new friend today?” He shook his head and waited. “Brother Dirk is going to take you fishing again?”

  He bit back a smile. “Not fishing, but Brother Dirk said he would take us somewhere on Sunday afternoon.”

  Sister Erma leaned across the worktable. “Can I play this game?” When Lukas bobbed his head, she smiled and pointed her finger to the east. “He told you about the lambs over in East Amana, ja?”

  Lukas jumped from foot to foot, his enthusiasm contagious. “Can we go, Mama? Can we? Brother Dirk said it is the very best thing to see in the springtime. Even Werner told me almost everyone goes to see the lambs. Can we go, too, Mama? Please?”

  I chuckled and lightly grasped his shoulders. “You need to take a breath, or I’ll never have a chance to answer.” His eyes flashed with excitement. “I’ll talk to Brother Dirk, and if I can be away from the Küche on Sunday afternoon, then we can probably go.”

  He lunged forward and locked his thin arms around my waist. “Oh, thank you, Mama, thank you!”

  “I said probably, Lukas. You need to remember that nothing is certain just yet.” I leaned back and looked into his eyes. “Understand?”

  “Yes, but I know we’ll go.”

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

  “Because when you are with Brother Dirk, you’re happy.”

  Sister Erma tipped her head to one side and stared at my son. “He has a gut understanding of people, ja? Strange since he is so young.”

  “Yes.” I nodded my head but didn’t elaborate.

  There was no need to dredge up the past and speak ill of the dead. No need to tell Sister Erma that the boy had feared his own father. No need for her to know that a crooked smile or cocked eyebrow could create as much fear as a pounding fist. When Fred had been in the house, Lukas had remained alert and watchful for any changes in his father’s disposition. Such behavior caused the boy to seem older than his years. Because of his father’s erratic actions, Lukas had also learned to assess the conduct of others. And most of the time his instincts proved correct.

  Lukas wasn’t interested in Sister Erma’s comments. Instead he squeezed my hand. “I told Brother Dirk I would return before supper and tell him what time he should come for us on Sunday.”

  I perched my hands on my hips. “Oh, you did, did you? Even before I say we will go, you’re asking what time he should come for us?” I did my best to look stern, but I didn’t fool Lukas.

  He giggled. “I knew you would want to see the lambs as much as me. You do, don’t you?”

  I ruffled his hair. “Yes, I want to see the lambs, but first we must see what Sister Erma has to say about our outing.” I glanced over my shoulder at the older woman.

  “I think I would like to go along, too. I have not been to East to see the lambs for two years now.”

  Lukas clapped his hands. “So we can all go?”

  Sister Erma nodded. “Ja, but you should tell Brother Dirk we will first need to do dishes after the noonday meal. I think we can be ready by one thirty.”

  Moving quietly along the rear worktable, Sister Greta scooped up the rows of dried noodles and placed them in a kettle of boiling chicken stock. When she turned in our direction, her face glistened with a sheen of perspiration. “I would be happy to take charge of cleanup after the noonday meal on Sunday. The two junior girls will be here to help.”

  “Ach! You know they don’t want to do much on Sundays. They are eager to go and play games. The minute I leave, they will convince you to let them run off and enjoy themselves. Sister Margaret is on the schedule for Sunday. She will see that they complete their work.”

  “For sure, she will keep them busy.” Sister Greta picked up a large wooden spoon and stirred the boiling noodles. “The three of you should leave as soon as you finish eating. That way you will have plenty of time. My Vater was there last week. He stopped to visit with Brother Richter, the head shepherd in East. It seems there have been lots of twins born this year, and some triplets, too.”

  After hearing of the multiple births, Lukas squealed with delight. “Please, Mama. Let’s go right after we eat. I want to be there all afternoon and see as many lambs as I can.”

  Sister Erma turned toward Lukas. “You can go and see a few lambs over at the main barn here in West. Did you know we have some Shropshire sheep in our village, too? Not so many like in East, but we have a small flock, and Brother Josef might even let you feed one of his lambs. I don’t think they would let you do such a thing in East. They are much more protective of their sheep.”

  Sister Erma’s remark served as a reminder that the residents in each of the villages thought their own village was the best one in which to live. Although a strong bond existed among the seven villages, each one maintained its own unique character and sense of pride. For Lukas to think any other village more inviting could be considered an insult to those who lived in West.

  Lukas’s smile disappeared. “But I thought you wanted to go over to East, Sister Erma.”

  “Ja, I do. But you should remember we have some things in West they do not have in East. Our village has one of only two flour mills, and we have a general store that is larger and better than most. Maybe not so grand as the one in Main Amana, but very gut. You should not forget we have gut ponds for fishing, too. And here in West, we have one of only three tinsmiths in all of the villages.” She folded her arms across her waist. “And I am sure our tinsmith is better than the other two.”

  Sister Greta cleared her throat. “Of course, we don’t want to sound boastful. Such pride would be frowned upon by the elders. Isn’t that right, Sister Erma?”

  “Ja, you are right. Is not proper to boast. But to speak well of the place where you live is a gut thing.” Her smile slipped a notch when she saw Sister Greta frown. Sister Erma inhaled a deep breath. “East has better flocks than we have in West.” After choking out the compliment, she met Sister Greta’s steely gaze with one of her own. “There! Does that make it better?”

  Sister Greta covered her mouth but couldn’t stifle a giggle. Soon Sister Erma and I joined in and filled the room with rollicking laughter. Lukas stared at us as though we’d all three lost our senses. Sister Erma was the first to regain her composure. With the corner of her apron, she wiped a tear from her cheek and waved toward the door. “You can tell Brother Dirk we will go with him to East as soon as we have eaten the noonday meal on Sunday.”

  I smiled as Lukas grabbed his straw hat and bolted for the door before anyone could stop him. Though I hadn’t expected such a strong reaction, my heart soared at the thought of spending some time with Dirk.

  Chapter 9

  After Sister Erma and Lukas departed for Sunday meeting, the two girls assigned to help during meeting set to work washing the breakfast dishes while I worked with Sister Margaret preparing the noonday meal. There were always fewer workers on Sunday mornings, and Sister Erma rotated the schedule. She wanted each woman to have an opportunity to attend Sunday meeting as often as possible. Since I hadn’t yet decided to attend church services, my presence in the kitchen allowed the others more frequent church attendance. I liked the rotating schedule, for it gave me an opportunity to become better acquainted with each of the sisters.

  This would be my second time to work with Sister Margaret on a Sunday morning, and I had been pleased when Sister Erma told me she was scheduled to work. Sister Margaret was close to Sister Erma’s age and had been working in the Küche since she’d turned fourteen years old. Her abilities far surpassed my own, and I was pleased to have her take charge.

  She ran her finger down the posted menu and shook her head. “There will be some unhappy children today.”

  I peeked over her shoulder. “Liver dumplings?”

  “Ja. The little ones compl
ain when we serve them, but we cannot waste.” She shrugged her shoulders. “When the butcher brings us liver, we prepare and serve liver. You want to learn how to make them?”

  If I ever left the colonies, I doubted liver dumplings would be a dish I’d prepare. On the other hand, as long as I was living here, I might as well learn. “I’ll be glad to follow your instructions.”

  She gave a firm nod. “Gut. I like that you are willing to learn something new. First we must grind the liver and pork.”

  While I tightened the metal meat grinder on the edge of the worktable, Sister Margaret put both of the other girls to work peeling potatoes. “Once they are pared and in cold water, you need to grate radishes for the radish salad.” She started toward me but stopped and turned back to the girls. “Before you start the potatoes, go to the cellar and bring up eight quarts of applesauce. Be careful not to drop them.”

  One of the girls lifted a lantern from the hook as they walked outside. Inside the kitchen the loud creak of the cellar doors caused me to shiver. I’d made only one trip into the clammy storage rooms beneath the kitchen, and that had been with Sister Erma by my side. I wondered if the girls were as frightened as I’d been when I descended the wooden steps into those dank, shadowy rooms. I would much prefer grinding meat.

  I’d finished grinding only half of the liver when I stopped for a moment and rubbed my upper arm. Sister Margaret stepped closer. “Your arm is hurting, ja?” She nudged me aside. “I will take a turn. You help the girls. They cut off half the potatoes when they try to peel them.” She tsked and turned away.

  The two girls grinned at me. They’d made little progress and Sister Margaret was correct in her assessment. If they continued cutting so deep into the potatoes, there wouldn’t be much left to cook. After observing for a few moments, I stopped them and picked up a knife.

  I could see they were both fearful of cutting themselves, and they weren’t properly grasping or turning the potatoes. “You need to hold it like this and control the movement with your thumb as you slowly turn the potato.” I finished mine and then handed the knife to one of the girls. “Now you do it.” I had to correct her only one time, but soon she had gained confidence, so I turned to the other one. Though it took her a little longer, they soon were doing a good job.

  Once the pork and liver had been ground and the potatoes set to boil, Sister Margaret sent the two young helpers to the dining room. “Make sure the silverware, napkins, and plates are in place, the pitchers filled with water, and the small bowls filled with jam. Open the jars of applesauce and pour the contents into the two large crocks.”

  “Which ones?” the girls asked in unison.

  Sister Margaret sighed and pointed to a shelf. “Those two. Now hurry along, and when you’ve finished, come and see if I need you to do anything else.” She’d barely had time to take a breath before she waved me forward.

  “Come over here, Sister Andrea. We need to mix the dumplings.”

  The ground liver and pork, along with bread crumbs, eggs, flour, minced onions, and seasonings, were placed in a large bowl. While I began to combine the mixture, Sister Margaret soaked chunks of dry bread in water and then pressed out the excess water. Once completed, she poured the dampened bread into the liver concoction. I continued the mixing process while she prepared the dressing for the radish salad.

  Instead of forming the liver mixture into balls, I dropped the mixture by teaspoonfuls into the boiling salted water. Sister Margaret said it was faster, and I think she was right. However, some of my dumplings were much larger than others, and I hoped they wouldn’t be raw inside. If that happened, I was sure there would be complaints.

  A short time later, the bells rang and soon Sister Erma bustled into the kitchen and donned her apron. I glanced up from my dumpling duties. “Meeting was good?”

  Sister Erma nodded and then looked in the boiling pot of water. I was thankful she didn’t mention the fact that the dumplings weren’t uniform in size. She arched her brows. “The extra bread crumbs to top the dumplings?”

  “They’re browning in the oven,” Sister Margaret said. “We’ll put them on the dumplings right before we serve. I didn’t want them to get cold.”

  “Gut. I knew I could count on you, Sister Margaret.”

  Moments later, the meal was complete. The browned bread crumbs were sprinkled over the liver dumplings. Fresh parsley dotted the buttered boiled potatoes, and the sliced radishes were mixed with creamy dressing. Nutmeg was grated over the applesauce, and heaping plates of bread and bowls of jam were in place on the tables.

  What had taken all morning to prepare was devoured in fifteen minutes. And those fifteen minutes had been far too long for Lukas. I barely had time to remove my apron before he appeared in the kitchen and announced Brother Dirk would return with the wagon in fifteen minutes.

  Dirk

  Sister Erma, Sister Andrea, and Lukas were waiting on the wooden sidewalk in front of the kitchen house when I arrived with the wagon. Lukas bounced from foot to foot while I helped his mother and Sister Erma into the wagon.

  I reached out and gently squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “Would you like to sit up front between your Mutter and me?”

  “Ja!” He bobbed his head with boyish enthusiasm.

  I hoisted Lukas onto the seat, and after I climbed aboard, the boy glanced over his shoulder. “Will you be lonely sitting by yourself, Sister Erma?”

  The older woman chuckled. “Nein. I think I will be fine sitting by myself for a short time. Besides, with no one on either side of me, I’ll have a clear view of all the scenery along the way.” She pointed in the distance. “Did you see the woodpecker over there, Lukas?”

  He twisted in his seat and looked back and forth. “Where? I don’t see anything.”

  Sister Erma folded her hands in her lap and grinned. “I told you I have a much better view.”

  We’d gone only a short distance when Lukas tugged on his mother’s sleeve. “I didn’t like those liver balls we had for lunch, Mama. They didn’t taste good. Let’s don’t have them anymore.”

  I gave the reins a light slap and chuckled as I recalled feeling the same way as a young boy. “There are foods that each of us likes better than others, Lukas, but there is one rule that is very important, so I want you to listen closely.”

  The boy gave him a wide-eyed stare. “What?”

  “Never tell the cooks you don’t like their food. If you insult the cooks, they might decide they don’t want to cook anymore, and then what would we do?” Using my free hand, I patted my stomach. “We would all become very hungry, and that would not be gut.” I leaned a little closer to the boy. “Maybe the next time we have liver dumplings, you should fill up your plate with more potatoes and salad and take only one small dumpling, ja?”

  Instead of trying to convince Lukas the liver would make him grow big and strong, I’d used a technique my father had used with me: Provide a solution rather than a lecture.

  Lukas nodded. “Maybe I won’t take any dumplings at all. That would be even better.”

  “Now that you know you do not like them, you could do that. But you should always try new foods before you make a decision. Sometimes we can be fooled by the way things look.”

  Lukas pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “And the way they smell. Cabbage stinks when it is cooking.”

  I glanced over his head at Sister Andrea to gauge her reaction. She shrugged her shoulders and nodded. “He’s right. I’m glad it tastes better than it smells.”

  “And our Amana cabbages are the best for making sauerkraut, too,” Sister Erma put in.

  I patted Lukas’s leg before he could comment on the sauerkraut. Sister Erma might not be offended if someone didn’t like liver dumplings, but she would be slow to forgive any criticism of her sauerkraut.

  I decided a change of topic might be in order. “Did you tell your Mutter what we’ve been making at the shop?”

  Lukas straightened his shoulders. “Werne
r drew some new patterns and we’re going to make them.”

  “Patterns for what?” Sister Erma asked.

  “Some kettles that are shaped different than the old ones, some new cookie cutters, and some other stuff—I don’t remember everything.” The boy twisted around to face the older woman. “You can come and see at the tin shop. Can’t she, Brother Dirk?”

  “Ja. I am sure Werner would be glad to hear any of your ideas or suggestions for new kitchen tools, Sister Erma. His new designs have been well received by some of the outsiders who do business at our shop. I have seen his confidence begin to grow since he’s been helping with new designs.”

  “I do not know that I could suggest anything new, but I will come by and see his latest designs. Anything that makes our work easier in the Küche is a gut thing. Maybe he should figure out a tool to help shape our liver dumplings. What do you think about that, Lukas?”

  Lukas wrinkled his nose at the suggestion. “I think cookie cutters would be better.”

  Sister Erma chuckled and then pointed to the fields we were passing on our journey. “All of this land belongs to our people, Lukas. More than twenty thousand acres.”

  “How many sheep?” The boy wiggled around to look at her.

  Sister Erma chuckled. “Sheep. That is all you want to think about. I am sure the head shepherd in East can tell you, but I have heard the men say there are more than three thousand sheep. Not so many cows or hogs, and a lot less horses, don’t you think, Brother Dirk?”

  I nodded. “Ja, less than three hundred horses. So we are very fortunate that Brother Herman gave permission for us to have a wagon and horses today.”

  Lukas frowned. “I think three hundred is a lot. How many did my grandpa have on his farm, Mama?”

  “I’m not sure, Lukas. Probably fewer than ten.”

  A gust of wind whipped through the trees, and Lukas clapped his hand atop his straw hat. “How come you need so many in West, Brother Dirk?”

  “The land and animals are located in all seven villages, not just in West. There are more people, so we need more of everything.” I cocked an eyebrow. “Understand?”