Love Finds You in Amana Iowa (30 page)

Amalie didn’t dare.

“Isn’t he the most handsome man?”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

The door opened again, and Jonah stepped through the door followed by a third man. Christoph Faust.

Amalie’s stomach rolled as Mr. Faust found her face in the crowd.

“Who’s that?” Sophia whispered, another grin creeping up her face.

Sophia didn’t wait for Amalie to reply. Instead, she sauntered slowly back to the entrance.

Disgusted, Amalie threw down the blanket and rushed toward a door at the other end of the room. They would have to finish without her.

All the stars, the moon’s soft light,
Praise Him through the silent night.
Joachim Neander

What was wrong with Amalie?

Moments after he met her gaze, she marched out the side door. Had he done something to anger her? Glancing behind him, he saw that Christoph Faust had walked into the room. Perhaps seeing the man had upset her.

Turning, Matthias went back out the door to unload another armful of the donations. He remembered well the day that Amalie arrived in Amana and watching her smile up at the captain of the wagon train. What he thought was righteous anger had flooded his mind, but now he realized that he was only fooling himself. Perhaps he had been a bit angry for Friedrich’s sake, but more than anything else, he was jealous.

He carried an armful of coats back into the building. Amalie hadn’t welcomed Faust with her look. No, it was more like disdain.

Once again, he had been wrong about her.

Matthias threw the blankets onto a pile and turned back toward the wagon. If only he could run after Amalie and ask her what was wrong.

He couldn’t go after her now, not with so many people relying on him, but he wished he could see her before he left in the morning, if only to tell her good-bye.

Niklas and his father brought two more wagons to the front of the meetinghouse. Harvest moonlight beamed down as the men hoisted crates onto the back of the wagons to take to Homestead.

The bell tolled across Amana for evening prayers, and Carl Vinzenz rushed to Matthias’s side.

Hilga was behind him with Louise, and Carl nudged his daughter forward. “Would you like to escort Hilga to Nachtgebet?”

He wanted to find Amalie, but he couldn’t refuse Carl, not with Hilga next to him.

When Hilga joined Matthias’s side, she didn’t look happy about going to prayers with him either. They left the meetinghouse and strolled slowly up the pathway, neither of them speaking a word.

He shivered in the night air and put his hands into his pockets. Like Jonah said about fighting in the war, perhaps he should marry Hilga because it was the right thing to do. Even if he didn’t love her, he would treat her well for the rest of their lives.

Or maybe it wasn’t the right thing—to offer only part of himself to Hilga when his heart belonged to another. And when he was certain that Hilga didn’t love him either.

“We are leaving in the morning.” He paused, waiting to see if there was anything else she wanted to discuss, but she didn’t say anything.

She stopped walking. “You shouldn’t go.”

He looked over at her. “Why not?”

“Something bad might happen to you.” Her voice faded into a whisper. “Like Friedrich.”

‘I’m not going into the battle.”

“But bad things happen close to the battlefields as well. Mistakes.”

He glanced over again, touched by her concern. How he wished he loved her with such a passion that he couldn’t help but take her in his arms and whisper in her ear. Even with her parents behind them, even with the community surrounding them. He wished his love for her overwhelmed him.

But it didn’t. He felt no different for her than for Karoline or Sophia or any of the other younger sisters in their community.

When they arrived at the residence, he nodded at Hilga and she slipped into one of the rows for the women. He sat down on a bench and bowed his head.

He appreciated her concern about his leaving. His safety. But even as he thought of letting Christoph Faust deliver the supplies without him, something nudged at his heart, perhaps the same sensation Friedrich had when he was supposed to go fight this war. Something, the Holy Spirit maybe, was telling him he needed to take the blankets and clothing all the way to Chattanooga.

Amalie walked through the door, her head bowed, and he squeezed his eyes closed, trying to pray quietly with the others. When the prayers finished, Hilga didn’t look for him. She walked back toward her residence with Amalie and Karoline, and he was alone.

Carl stepped up beside him, clapping his hand on Matthias’s shoulder. “What are you waiting for, son?”

Matthias strode down the path next to the man. Carl was right—he shouldn’t wait a moment longer.

“May I speak with you and Louise in private?” he asked.

A smile spread across Carl’s face. “Of course.”

Instead of going into the good room where someone might hear them speak, Carl directed them to the carpentry shop. He hung a lantern in the corner of the room.

Tools hung from the ceiling and wood scraps littered the benches and floor. Matthias took a deep breath of the musty wood scent. He spent most of his time away from the shop, building walls and floors, but he always relished the simple pleasure of carving a piece of wood into a work of art.

He rubbed his hand over the rough edges of a chair and then turned to Carl and Louise.

“You have both been like a mother and father to me for almost as long as I can remember.”

Louise stepped forward, taking his hands in her thick fingers. “You are a son to us, Matthias. No matter what.”

He nodded. More than anything, he wanted to be able to tell them he wanted to marry their daughter, that he would care for her the rest of his life.

“I know you want me to marry Hilga,” he said.

Carl smiled. “You will make a fine couple.”

He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment before he looked at Carl again. “But I cannot marry her.”

“What?” Carl exclaimed, pouncing forward. “What are you talking about?”

“She doesn’t—” he started to explain, but Louise stopped him.

“That’s a relief,” she said with a grin.

Carl turned to his wife as if she were mad.

Louise reached out and took Matthias’s hands, looking into his eyes again as if she knew what was inside of him. “Hilga will be happy to hear that as well.”

“Do you think?”

“I know she will.”

He sighed with relief. He didn’t want to hurt Hilga or any of them.

“She won’t be happy,” Carl insisted with a shake of his head. “None of us are happy.”

He glared at his wife, but she ignored him.

“You can’t marry her, Matthias. Not when you love another,” Louise said. “Or when Hilga loves another as well.”

“But you’re supposed to be—” Carl’s voice broke. “I wanted you to be my son.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Carl,” Louise said. “God gave us Matthias as a son, just like he gave us Friedrich.”

“Thank you,” Matthias whispered.

“And it’s almost like he gave us two daughters as well—Hilga and Amalie. They both need good husbands.”

Matthias stepped back, banging into a sawhorse. He tried to scoot around it and knocked a tool off the wall.

Did Louise know what was in his heart? Judging by her hearty laugh, she did.

How long had she known?

Carl’s gaze ricocheted between Matthias and Louise as if they were both crazy.

“Hilga has two parents who love her,” Louise said, “and I believe there is another man here in Amana who does as well. But Amalie needs someone to care for her.”

Matthias looked at her. “Friedrich asked me to take care of Amalie, but I don’t know how.”

“You and Amalie need to talk,” Louise said, pushing him toward the door. “About something other than Friedrich.”

* * * * *

Matthias gazed up at the light that flickered above the dining room—Amalie’s new room. There were no lights in the windows next to hers where Brother Schaube and his family slept.

“
Guten abend,
Matthias.”

Matthias slowly turned away from Amalie’s window and saw fellow carpenter Gottlieb, ready for his duty as the night watchman. Even with the bright moon, he held a lantern in his hands.

“Are you going to Homestead tonight?”

Matthias shook his head. “In the morning.”

Gottlieb glanced up at Amalie’s window and back down. “We will all miss you.”

Matthias took a step away from the kitchen house and the thoughts that captured his mind.

“I think I’ll take a walk tonight, to calm my mind,” he said.

“You better hurry,” Gottlieb replied. “We’ve got snow moving in.”

Gottlieb continued his guard duty west of town, and Matthias moved east. Perhaps Louise was right, and he and Amalie needed to talk about something besides Friedrich, but he didn’t know how to begin that conversation. He could talk to her about the supplies they were gathering for the soldiers, but that conversation would lead back to Friedrich.

With the bright moonlight, he didn’t need a lantern this evening, but he needed his gloves. He reached into the pocket of his coat and his hand slid over the lid of a small box hidden there. He had carved it long ago and kept it in his room, not knowing what to do with it. Now he knew who he wanted to share it with but he wasn’t sure how to get it to her.

He took his hands out of his pockets and slid on his gloves.

The mill was silent now, the moon making it look ghostly against the black night. And his mind began to wander again.

What would it be like for Amalie to join him, out here on this quiet night? When everyone except Gottlieb was asleep?

His heart seemed to burn within him. They didn’t have to speak about Friedrich, about anything for that matter. He just wanted to be alone with her, in the quiet, before he left for Tennessee.

All the windows were darkened as he hurried back down the street, except Amalie’s window. What was she doing so late at night, while the others were asleep? Or perhaps she was still having trouble sleeping, as he was as he lay awake so many nights. There was so much he didn’t know about her.

What would he and Amalie talk about if they didn’t talk about Friedrich?

A lantern moved toward him, and he slipped behind a tree as Gottlieb passed by. If the elders found out that he and Amalie were alone on his watch, they would both be banned from services for at least a month. And he probably wouldn’t be permitted to travel to Tennessee.

But then again, what if something did happen to him while he was gone? He might never be able to tell Amalie how much he cared.

His mind whirled, but he dared not think about the consequences any longer. Instead, he lifted a stone from the ground and threw it as softly as he could toward her glass. The tap echoed back down to him, and he cringed. He would be mortified if Brother or Sister Schaube came to the window to inquire about the noise.

When Amalie didn’t come to the window, he threw another rock. It pinged off the glass, louder this time, and he almost hurried back down the street.

But then he heard a creak above him and watched her window lift. Amalie leaned out into the night. Her long hair dangled over her shoulders, the contour of her face seemed to glow in the moonlight. He should turn and run away right now, but he couldn’t seem to move.

“Who’s there?” she whispered.

He glanced over at the Schaubes’ room, but no one had opened their window.

He cleared his throat. “It’s me.”

“Matthias?” She scooted her head back into the window, but he could still hear her voice. “What are you doing here?”

“I—I want to speak with you.”

She hesitated and then whispered again so softly that he had to strain to hear her words. “Can we speak in the morning?”

“Not if we want to be alone.”

The window closed, and he waited in the darkness. Perhaps she wouldn’t come down—if she didn’t, it was clear to him that Louise was wrong. Amalie didn’t care for him as he did for her.

Minutes passed slowly, and he almost turned to go to his room, but then she was in the doorway. A candle illuminated her face and the black cap that covered her hair. He’d never seen her looking so beautiful.

Even with the shawl wrapped around her, Amalie shivered in the cool night. His eyes locked on her, he leaned forward and blew out the candle.

“Come,” he whispered.

Amalie didn’t complain as he led her off the main street, away from Gottlieb’s watch and onto a muddy path in the orchard. The chill of winter silence enveloped the spindly trunks and branches around them, but even with the coolness, his skin burned. It had seemed like a good idea to throw that stone at Amalie’s window, invite her to join him this night, but now he wasn’t so certain. He had never been this close to her since they’d become adults, with no one else nearby.

Instead of sitting on a bench, he looked up at the windmill before them, at the sails turning slowly in the breeze. “Have you been up there yet?”

She shook her head.

“Let me show you.”

Amalie followed him up the steps, onto the wide platform below the wind wheel. In the moonlight, far beyond the village, they could see the valley and a silver shimmer in the fields as they stretched to the trees.