Love Finds You in Homestead, Iowa Read online

  “Stop that freight!” another voice yelled over the roar.

  The train in front of him increased its speed, and Jacob sprinted beside the boxcar, sweat pouring off his face. No matter what, he would protect his daughter.

  Swinging the bag off his shoulder, he thrust it into the open door.

  Cassie clung to his neck, sobbing against his shoulders.

  “C’mon, Cassie!” he shouted over the commotion.

  “No…”

  There was no time to hesitate. He pried Cassie’s fingers and arms from his neck and swiftly pushed his daughter onto the train.

  Let no one be dismayed, rather, resign yourselves to the Divine Will in the spirit of the Redeemer; then you shall cross this valley of tears safely and be comforted and sustained….

  Johann Friedrich Rock, 1748

  Chapter Two

  July 1894, Iowa

  The bell on the bakery wagon chimed outside the window, and Liesel Strauss rolled over, burying her head under a pillow. She should have been up twenty minutes ago, but she’d rather stay hidden under her covers than face this day.

  Rain pattered on the window, stirring her to peek out from under her pillow at the gray clouds that blocked the sunlight from warming her room. Perhaps if she went back to sleep, she could pretend this morning never happened. Tomorrow she would spring out of bed and go about her daily duties as if nothing had changed.

  She rolled over and closed her eyes as the bell rang again below her. Ludwig Kampf and his father rose before most people in Homestead to bake bread, and it was almost as if Ludwig enjoyed waking the town with his bell as he delivered his bread to Homestead’s ten kitchen houses before breakfast.

  In the large room below her bedroom was one of these kitchens, and the aroma of coffee brewing over the fire wafted upstairs. It was Thursday, so there would be coffee cake laced with streusel this morning along with oatmeal and crispy fried potatoes. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of the warm, sweet cake with her coffee.

  Ludwig pulled his cart farther down the street, the clang of his bells fading away as another bell rang out below her window. The milkman was delivering his pails, fresh from the barn.

  She inched upright on her bed and slowly opened her eyes to the same sight that greeted her every morning. Pale blue walls surrounded her, and four walnut posts braced the head and footboard. Almost twenty years ago her mother had quilted the yellow comforter that covered her, and six months ago Liesel’s father gave her the treasured piece when she relocated from the neighboring village of Main Amana to Homestead.

  In five more months, when their separation was over, she and Emil Hahn would marry and she would take the bedspread back with her to their new home in Amana along with the chest of her belongings.

  She clenched her hands over the hem of the quilted comforter. She couldn’t tell anyone, but the thought of marrying Emil filled her heart with almost as much dread as facing this day.

  The clock by the door read 5:45, and she finally pushed herself out of bed. Placing her feet on the cold floor, she shivered. Today would be hard enough without mulling over her fears of marriage.

  Lifting her coarse white stockings off the back of the chair, she inched them on and then buttoned the Dutch blue front of her calico dress.

  “Clothe me with the garb of salvation.” She prayed the familiar words as she looped the straps of the black apron over her arms and tied the strings behind her. “And clothe me with the purple garment of Christ.”

  She poured water from a ceramic pitcher into a basin and cleansed her hands and face. As she washed, she continued her morning prayers. “Give me true cleansing from sin today and sanctify me with the blood of the Lamb.”

  The routine of cleansing, praying, and braiding her hair mirrored her daily schedule in the Amana Colonies. Life in Homestead was steady and predictable, and while she appreciated the ease of their routines, some days she longed for a bit of change in the normalness of her routine. Nothing as extreme, though, as saying good-bye to her best friend.

  She reached for the brush beside the basin and swept it through her long hair until it was smooth. Weaving the blond strands into two braids, she twisted and pinned them to the back of her head. Beside the window, she laced her boots and watched other villagers stream down the narrow pathway that connected the houses, toward the kitchen below her.

  Her father lived in Main Amana, the village north of Homestead, but these men and women were like family to her. She loved and respected them, and even though they all dressed similarly, she knew what made each of them unique.

  Fixing her homemade hairnet over her braids, she tied the strings at the nape of her neck and slipped her pale orchid sunbonnet off its hook by the door to carry with her to breakfast.

  I won’t cry, she whispered, closing the door behind her. Cedar Rapids wasn’t that far away—only a short train ride back to the Amana Colonies. And the mail came every day by train as well. She would write letters. Hundreds of them.

  Still, the thought of writing letters didn’t dry her tears.

  Bells rang out in the village Glockenhaus to announce the start of their day, and she rushed down the narrow stairs, under an arch, and into the kitchen. The Küchebaas—or kitchen boss—waved her past the wide, polished stove top brimming with kettles and into the dining room, where she sat down at one of three tables, the table designated for the women. On top of the table were eight white plates, eight bowls, and neatly placed tin silverware alongside each coffee cup.

  At the table across from her, most of the men were already seated, but no one looked her way. Their heads were bowed in quiet contemplation before the day’s first meal. She bowed hers as well and waited for the food.

  The bench creaked beside her, and she peeked over as Sophie slid into the seat. She closed her eyes again, but in the quietness, she reached out to her friend and squeezed her calloused hand. Tears were coming again; she could feel them brimming under her eyelids, but there was nothing she could do to stop them from tumbling down her cheeks.

  With a bang the door to the kitchen opened, and she glanced up. Two kitchen workers breezed into the room with iron coffee boilers for each table. Releasing Sophie’s hand, Liesel filled her cup, and the steam warmed her face, clearing her tears for the moment. She took a sip of the hot drink.

  Another kitchen girl placed two white bowls on their table beside the coffee boiler. The first bowl was filled with oatmeal soaked in molasses, and the second held potatoes that had been panfried in bacon grease. Another small bowl brought out next held chunks of soft hand cheese, and slices of coffee cake filled an oval-shaped platter. With her fork, Liesel snagged a piece of the yellow cake, placed it in her bowl, and then poured fresh cream over it.

  The cake was rich and sweet, but she didn’t relish it like she did most Thursday mornings. She could only think of what she was about to lose on this Thursday—the treasure of sharing all her meals with her best friend.

  Sophie usually devoured the potatoes and oatmeal before another hard day of work in the gardens, but today she swirled the oatmeal in her bowl. Liesel longed to reach out and hug her, to talk once again about the trying days ahead for both of them and how she wouldn’t let a day pass without writing to her.

  Avoid useless words, for they deprive you of the strength of the soul.

  The rules of conduct taught to them as children stated that dining tables were for eating, not talking, and none of them chattered and slurped like a worldly man or woman did. She’d seen firsthand how the outsiders could chatter when transients stopped by their village for a bite to eat. While filling their bellies, these men rattled on about their travels with no thought to the silence the rest of them maintained in the dining room.

  Just this once, however, Liesel wished she and Sophie could whisper to each other over their meal. Her friend knew how much she would miss her, but it didn’t seem like she could tell Sophie enough times. From the bottom of her heart, someplace so deep inside her that she di
dn’t know from where it stemmed, there would be a vacancy. A hole. The pain hurt worse than the time she’d fallen out of a tree and broken a rib…worse than the time she’d burned her arm on the kitchen stove.

  The doctor had tended her wounds after both the fall and the burn—and the Küchebaas asked the Elders to relocate her from the kitchen house to the gardens. But there was no salve available this morning to soothe the burning in her chest.

  Glancing beside her, Liesel saw Sophie’s cheeks damp with tears and her fingers rolling over her swollen belly. In two months, Sophie Keller would become a mother.

  Liesel couldn’t think about missing her dear friend’s event or the opportunity to pour love and affection on her friend’s little one. She’d dreamed of the day when she could be a Tante to Conrad and Sophie’s children, and now Sophie’s husband was stealing that away from her. From all of them.

  When he was sixteen, Conrad Keller had been assigned to work on the dredge boat in the summer and the sheep barns in the winter. He was twenty-four now and tired of the work. His father was an Elder in Homestead, and Niklas Keller—as well as the other seven Elders—listened to Conrad’s complaints, but as Conrad was one of the few men in the Amanas who knew how to swim, they needed him to stay on the boat.

  Ever since Liesel had known him, Conrad pored over the daily newspapers arriving in Homestead on the train. He was intrigued by the court cases reported in the papers along with the political maneuvering of the leaders in the land. Then, last spring, he met one of the tourists visiting their villages. A vacationing attorney from Cedar Rapids.

  Conrad spent hours talking to the man. Then he announced suddenly that he wanted to become an attorney. Unfortunately for Conrad, the Amana Colonies had no need of a man skilled in the law—they paid a solicitor in the county seat of Marengo when they needed legal papers written up for the state. There wasn’t enough work in the Amanas for a full-time solicitor, but there was plenty of work in dredging the Mill Race during the warmer months. In the winter, they needed Conrad and the boat crew to care for the Colonies’ sheep.

  So Conrad had to make a choice, and after much deliberation, he decided to leave his work in the Amana Colonies and attend law school in Cedar Rapids. A career in law was more important to him than supporting the community that had cared for him his entire life.

  Liesel spooned up another bite of the creamy cake before taking a long sip of coffee. Then a familiar thought slipped back into her mind. If she wanted, she could get on a train with her friend today and follow her to Cedar Rapids. Sophie had asked Liesel to accompany her and Conrad to the city and live with them in the apartment Conrad had secured. Where he’d gotten the money to pay for an apartment, no one seemed to know.

  Liesel’s stomach clenched at the thought of leaving the Colonies, and she set down her cup.

  At the table across from her Conrad ate his food in silence like the rest of the men, yet there was a smile on his face. He’d been smiling ever since he decided to leave.

  She couldn’t imagine leaving the Colonies. Not for any reason. She’d heard stories about the outside—the sordid worldliness of those who pursued their own ambitions over the truths of God—and she had no desire to venture out of the seven villages that made up their community. Her family was here. Her church. Her work in the gardens. And her friends were in the Colonies—at least most of them.

  Cedar Rapids isn’t that far, she told herself yet again. It was only twenty-two miles away. Forever by buggy, but not so far by train. Not that she had money to buy a train ticket, but when Conrad was a successful attorney, getting paid to work, surely he could send Sophie back for a visit.

  Liesel stirred the cake in her bowl while Sophie pushed her potatoes back and forth across her plate. The clanking of forks and spoons echoed around them, but no one seemed to notice that she and Sophie had stopped eating.

  Sometimes when she was in the gardens, pulling one more potato or carrot or stalk of rhubarb out of the ground, Liesel considered saying good-bye to those she loved and going to Cedar Rapids with her friend. Yet even if she decided to leave Homestead, her father, and her betrothed behind, she couldn’t rely on Conrad to care for her, not while he was supporting a wife and child as well as paying his way through school. And she didn’t know how to support herself.

  One of the transients who’d visited their village had marveled at the opportunities for women in the Amana Colonies. There was no need for women to marry here since everything was provided for them, and married or not, the women all worked outside their homes—in the gardens or kitchen house, as midwives, or even in the Kinderschule.

  In the outside world, the transient man told her, the opportunities for single women to work were limited to housekeeping, fieldwork, factories, and the saloons. She told the man that she worked in the gardens in Homestead every day; she could certainly work the fields on the outside. The man had laughed at her—laughed hard—and she was mortified when he explained that working as a field hand didn’t compare to working in the peaceful Amana gardens.

  Yesterday Sophie said she would send for Liesel when Conrad completed school and had enough income to provide for all of them. The thought lingered in her mind, but even so, Liesel couldn’t imagine ever leaving the Community of True Inspiration. By the time Conrad finished school, she would be the wife of Emil Hahn and perhaps expecting a child of her own.

  Lifting her eyes, she glanced across the room again at Conrad Keller and watched him spoon oatmeal into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in days. He didn’t seem to be having any trouble with his stomach this morning, nor did he seem to have any regrets about his decision to leave their community to chase his own ambitions.

  Let everyone seek to be most humble. Flee ambition and exaltation of one over another.

  The Kinder-Stimme doctrine often sprang up in her mind to provide answers and comfort in dark times. This morning, though, in the chilly dining room, anger flooded through her—Conrad had chosen selfish ambition over the good of his own soul and that of Sophie’s and their child.

  She prayed quietly as she took one more bite, prayed that God would take away her anger and fill her with peace and purpose.

  The wall clock chimed behind her, and each person pushed back on their bench and stood in unison. Then, in perfect order, they all filed out of the dining hall, ready to work their professions in the barns, gardens, butcher shop, carpentry, and general store. Each person had his or her own duties, and they took pride in the work assigned to them.

  Liesel set her sunbonnet onto the top of her head and tied it beneath her chin, the material draping over her shoulders and ears. Sophie reached for her hand, and they stepped out of the building together. Only one road ran through the village, and they walked down it, between the apple and cherry orchards that stretched for acres on each side.

  Sophie squeezed her hand. “The train doesn’t come for three more hours.”

  “Three hours…,” Liesel repeated. The hours would go by too fast.

  “I don’t want to go,” Sophie whispered.

  “I know.”

  Ahead of them, Conrad clapped the back of another man. Surely, Liesel thought, he must have some regrets about leaving his hometown. Yet the smile spread across his face didn’t communicate any regret. In fact, he seemed to be filled with anticipation for their journey ahead.

  At least one of them was happy about this change.

  Liesel stopped walking. “My baas said I could come to the station.”

  Sophie managed a thin smile. “You’re sure you can’t come to Cedar Rapids with me?”

  “It’s not that I can’t….”

  “I know.” Sophie hugged her. “I just keep hoping you’ll change your mind.”

  Liesel glanced around her, relishing the view of apple trees and brick houses and budding pink blossoms on the grapevines. “This is my home.”

  Sophie followed her gaze. “Mine too.”

  “Cedar Rapids will feel like home soon enough.” />
  “You’ll write, ja?”

  Liesel kissed her friend’s cheek. “Every day, silly.”

  “I’ll probably write you twice a day.”

  A raindrop splattered on Liesel’s nose, and she brushed it away with her fingers. These Colonies would feel strangely vacant without the woman who’d been like a sister to her.

  She hugged her friend and then stepped back. “You’d better finish packing.”

  “Three hours,” Sophie reminded her.

  “I’ll be there.”

  Persevere on your journey holding only to God, whose protective shield has covered you and will continue keeping you safe.

  Johann Friedrich Rock, 1720

  Chapter Three

  The train moved even faster now, out of the LaSalle Street Station and into the fog. Jacob sprinted beside the boxcar, trying to pull himself up into it, but he wasn’t fast enough nor was he strong enough to climb inside.

  “Come on, Papa!” Cassie shouted over the roar of the mob.

  The train picked up speed, its wheels sparking against the debris on the tracks. Ahead of him were dozens of men hammering the sides of the metal cars with shovels, trying to stop the train, and in seconds he would be caught between the shovels and the train.

  “Scoot back!” Jacob shouted, and Cassie retreated into the darkness.

  Reaching up, one of his hands clenched the side of the door, and he clung to the car. Then, with a quick jump, he pulled his chest inside the car. Metal clanged ahead of him, and he sucked in his breath, hoping to cushion the blows of the shovels that would pound his legs dangling over the edge.

  He sucked in his breath, and he prayed. Prayed that he wouldn’t get dragged under the wheels of this monster. Prayed that God wouldn’t take his life before he took Cassie home.

  His daughter crawled toward him and reached for his arm, her eyes wide with fear and sorrow. He didn’t try to stop her.

  “You can do it, Papa,” she said.