Patchwork Christmas Page 2

  “We are no longer children, Brother Frank. We need to abide by the rules.” Her eyes softened, but her tone remained cool. “You should go up to your room and unpack.”

  He leaned against the doorjamb and pointed toward the quilt. “Are you making that for yourself or someone else? I thought the women usually got together and quilted. Has that changed while I’ve been gone?” He moved closer to the quilting frame. “My Mutter and some of the women made wedding quilts for me years ago when my Mutter was hoping I would marry.” Confusion shone in Karla’s eyes. Long ago it had become a custom in the Colonies for both a bride and groom to bring two wedding quilts to the marriage, but Frank had never been engaged. To learn his mother had already stitched quilts for him had obviously raised questions in Karla’s mind.

  He wished she would look at him, but she kept her gaze fastened on her stitching. “I think she believed the quilts would encourage me to find a wife. No doubt she fears she will never have any grandchildren. Maybe you remember how much my Mutter enjoyed children.”

  Karla gave a slight nod. “I do recall she loved children.” After poking her needle into the fabric, she glanced up at him. “I don’t mean to be unwelcoming, Brother Frank, but …”

  He nodded. “I promise to go away if you’ll tell me about the quilt.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you. You used to make promises when we were young, and then you would tell me you’d crossed your fingers behind your back, so it didn’t count. Do you remember?”

  “Of course I remember. But I always kept my word. You can’t blame me for teasing you all those years ago.” He extended his arms and spread his fingers. “You can see for yourself. My fingers aren’t crossed.”

  She gave him a guarded look that told him she wasn’t totally convinced he was trustworthy. “The quilt is for my sister, Antje—one of her wedding quilts. She asked if Mutter and I would help her make her two wedding quilts.”

  “Without help from the other women?”

  Karla bobbed her head. “Ja. She didn’t want to hurt any feelings, but sometimes Sister Wilda’s stitches are uneven. Her eyesight isn’t so gut anymore. Rather than exclude Sister Wilda, we decided the quilting would be a family project. Besides, the rest of the women have another quilt they’re working on right now, so there is more than enough sewing for everyone.”

  Frank had forgotten Antje’s ability to persuade others to do her bidding. Karla’s younger sister had always been a sweet girl. And combined with her natural beauty, charming personality, and stunning smile, she could win her way at most anything. And usually did. With the exclusion of Paul Meister and himself, she’d won the hearts of all the unmarried young men in the village at some point during her growing-up years, but Frank wasn’t certain whom she’d finally agreed to marry.

  He didn’t move a muscle for fear Karla would again tell him he should go to his room. “So who did Antje decide to marry? As I recall, she could have chosen one of several.”

  “Paul Meister.”

  “Paul!” He clapped his palm over his lips and glanced around. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout, but Paul’s name was the last one I expected to hear. Paul never appeared to be interested in Antje—at least not …”

  Her blue eyes sparkled. “At least not as a wife?”

  “Ja. I’m surprised to hear it is Paul.”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “Perhaps she viewed him as a challenge. His disinterest always appeared to intrigue her.”

  “Intrigued or annoyed?” He quickly gave a dismissive wave. “You don’t need to answer. If they’re happy, then I’m pleased for both of them. I’ve not seen Paul for some time now. Where is he living during their separation?”

  “Lower South—he wasn’t sent too far away, which pleased my sister a great deal. They’re able to see each other every Sunday afternoon.”

  He wasn’t surprised by her answer. It seemed everything fell into place for Antje. He wished the same would happen in Karla’s life. Though she never spoke of feeling inferior, Karla had always played second fiddle to her sister. Not only was Antje pretty, but she was full of life and always managed to make herself the center of attention. Yet Karla had the attributes he found captivating. Although her loyalty, honesty, and kindness had won him years ago, she’d never flirted with him like the other girls. Even now, with no plans to wed, she didn’t show any sign of interest in him. And heaven knew he was trying to gain her attention.

  Before he could ask another question, the front door opened and a cold breeze chased across the floor. Frank shivered as he turned around. “Sister Stuke! It is gut to see you.”

  The older woman squinted as she crossed the room. “Brother Frank? Is it really you?” She lifted the woven market basket from her arm and placed it atop the front desk. “Come here and let me have a gut look at you.” She shook her head as Frank approached. “You have grown three inches taller since the last time I saw you.”

  Frank forced his features into a mock frown and planted his hands on his hips. “Now, Sister Stuke, don’t try to convince me that you didn’t know it was me standing in front of you.”

  “Ja, I knew it was you. The elders told me you would be coming to stay in the hotel for a few months, but I didn’t think you were going to arrive until next week.” She patted his arm. “It is gut to see you, and I’m glad you will be staying with us. It will be like old times having you in South. And you should call me Sister Irma. You’re a grown man now, and we are friends.”

  “Danke.” He reached for the market basket but turned at the sound of footsteps behind him. Karla had closed the distance between the quilting frame and the front desk in record time.

  The bodice of her dress rose as she inhaled a deep breath, and her blue eyes flashed at her mother. “You said nothing to me about Brother Frank returning to South and living in the hotel.”

  Sister Irma hiked one shoulder as she tapped the counter with her index finger. “If you had checked the record book in the top drawer, you would have seen Brother Frank’s name listed as an arriving guest.” Her features softened as she shifted her eyes toward Frank. “Of course, you aren’t really a guest—more like returning family.”

  He beamed and nodded toward the basket. “Would you like me to take this to the kitchen?”

  “Ja, that would be very nice.” She wiggled her finger at Karla. “And you should join us, too. No more time for quilting until later. We need to begin supper preparations.” She pointed to a tall wooden stool near the back door. “You can sit over there and visit with us, Brother Frank. I’m eager to hear about your schooling and plans for the future.”

  Sister Irma’s offer to remain in the kitchen pleased Frank, but from the frown on Karla’s face, he could tell she was less than pleased. Still, he tried to memorize her features as she peeled the potatoes. While he’d been away at apothecary school, he had often tried to remember the way Karla held her lips when trying to bait a hook or the intensity of her blue eyes when she prepared to race across the ice. More often than not, his memory couldn’t capture the exact image. And now, seeing her lips set in that same tight line and her eyelashes fanned across her cheeks, he took pleasure in the sight.

  As if magnetically drawn, Karla looked up and met his gaze. She stared for a moment before returning to her work. Her eyes had carried a message—one that appeared to say she wished he would leave the room. Discouragement slithered around him and squeezed the air from his lungs.

  Frank jarred to attention when Sister Irma banged a pot onto the top of the stove. “So tell us about your time at school.” She gave her earlobe an enthusiastic tug. “I’m ready to hear.”

  He glanced at Karla. He had hoped she, too, would express some eagerness to hear a few of his stories. Instead, she looked everywhere but at him.

  Chapter 2

  Karla still couldn’t believe her mother had invited Frank to join them in the kitchen. In the past, she had always shooed everyone but the kitchen workers from the room during meal preparations. Yet this afternoon, she’d welcomed Frank into the kitchen as though it were an everyday occurrence to have a man sit and watch them peel potatoes. And when he became silent for more than a moment, her mother would ask another question. With each response, her mother beamed approval and encouraged him to tell her more.

  Karla grabbed the handle of a metal pail and headed toward the door. They would need water to wash dishes after supper, and she preferred pumping it before rather than after the meal.

  Frank jumped up from the stool. “Let me do that.” His hand connected with hers, and she drew in a sharp breath.

  Looking up, she met his gaze, and the softness in the depth of his eyes kindled an unexpected longing deep within her—a longing she had promised herself she would never succumb to again. Just when she believed she’d finally overcome Oskar’s rejection and the desire for marriage and children, Frank’s presence had proved a fresh reminder of what she had lost.

  As Frank tugged on the bucket handle, she realized her fingers remained entwined beneath his hand. With a start, she dropped her hold and took a backward step. “I won’t argue. It is cold outside.”

  “I don’t think I’ll turn into an icicle.” With his free hand, Frank lifted the collar of his suit jacket.

  Karla’s mother pointed to the row of pegs near the door where they hung their cloaks and scarves. “Wrap one of those woolen scarves around your neck, Frank. You’ll catch a cold, and we’ll have to ask Brother Hueber to mix you some medicine before you even begin your work in the apothecary.” He grabbed one of the scarves and flung it around his neck in an exaggerated gesture. Sister Irma laughed. “When you get outside, you will be glad for the warmth.”

  The moment he opened the door, a gust of cold air burst into the room. Karla shivered and hurried back to the worktable. She stood opposite her mother while the two of them shaped the sausage patties they would fry for supper.

  “I cannot believe you invited Frank to sit in the kitchen while we are cooking. You never permit visitors.”

  Her words bore a harsh tone, but she didn’t want to experience the emotions Frank’s presence stirred up—feelings that could once again lead to pain. After Oskar canceled their marriage plans, Karla had resolved to safeguard herself against future heartbreak—and she intended to keep that commitment. But she already knew that Frank’s arrival was going to prove a difficult test.

  Her mother’s features pinched into a frown. “Frank isn’t a visitor. He is like family.”

  “Family? He hasn’t lived in South Amana for years. I’ve seen him only once since he left for school, and that was during the first year after he went away.” Karla reached into the bowl and scooped up another handful of the meat mixture. “And I think this is the first time you’ve seen him since he departed.”

  “Ja, it is. And that is reason enough to want to talk to him and find out what he has learned and how he has been.”

  Karla sighed. “He has learned to be a pharmacist, and he appears to be in very good health.”

  “And you appear to be in very bad humor. You and Frank were gut friends. You say you’re surprised I invited him into the kitchen. Well, I’m surprised by your …”

  Her mother glanced up and stopped midsentence when the back door opened and Frank reappeared. Another gust of cold air burst into the room with him. He placed the pail of water on the floor and unwrapped the scarf from around his neck.

  “You were right about the scarf, Sister Irma. That wind has turned colder than when I first arrived. I wouldn’t be surprised if it begins to snow.”

  Her mother nodded. “Ja, well, it is the time of year when we expect snow and cold weather. Soon Christmas will arrive, and it would not be Christmas without snow.”

  Frank agreed. “Tell me about your favorite Christmas when you were a little girl, Sister Irma.”

  Sister Irma’s lips curved in a slow smile, and Karla immediately knew what story Frank would hear. Before her mother began the tale, she pointed at the stove and signaled Karla to begin frying the potatoes. “My family wasn’t among the first groups to move here from the settlement in Ebenezer in New York. We didn’t come to Iowa until 1859, but my best friend, Marta, and her family moved a year before me. I was so lonely, and even though my Mutter told me we would be moving, too, I began to think I would never again see my friend.”

  Karla turned the potatoes with the metal spatula and glanced at her mother. This was the part of the story when she usually became teary-eyed. Sure enough, Karla could see the glisten of tears as her mother touched her handkerchief to her eye.

  Her mother drew a ragged breath. “It was on Christmas Eve that my Vater said he had a very special present for me.”

  Frank scooted so far forward on the stool, Karla thought he might topple. “What was it?”

  “A note from the Grossebruderrat telling my Vater that our family had been selected to depart with the next group in the spring.” Karla’s mother clasped a hand to her chest. “Our Christmas pyramid was on a table in the center of the parlor, and I danced around the table until I was dizzy.” She glanced at Frank. “That was the best Christmas present I ever received.”

  “For sure that is a wonderful Christmas story, Sister Irma.”

  “Ja, and she tells it to us every Christmas.” They all turned to see Karla’s sister standing in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. Antje narrowed her blue eyes and took a step forward. “Brother Frank? Is it really you I’m seeing?”

  “Ja, it is really me.” As if to prove he was real, Frank stood and turned in a circle.

  Antje hurried toward him and clasped his hand. “What a wonderful surprise.” She turned to her mother. “Did you know he was going to visit? You should have told me. I would have come home earlier. Now I’ve missed all the fun.” Antje’s lower lip protruded in a tiny pout. “It’s not fair that the two of you have had the pleasure of Frank’s company while I was filling in for Karla at the strickschule classes for the children.”

  Karla tapped the metal utensil on the frying pan. “I’m remembering that it was you who asked to take my place with the knitting lessons at the strickschule so that I could sew on your quilt.” She arched her brows and looked at her sister. “Is that not true?”

  “Ja, it is true, but …”

  “With you there is always a ‘but,’” their mother said while gesturing for Antje to remove her cloak. “You don’t need to worry further. Brother Frank will be staying here until he finishes his training at the apothecary with Brother Hueber.”

  “We are for sure going to enjoy having you with us, Brother Frank.” Eyes sparkling, Antje looked at Karla. “Isn’t that true, Karla?”

  All three of them stared in Karla’s direction. She bobbed her head. What else could she do? To disagree would have been an insult to Frank and an embarrassment to her family. It wasn’t Frank’s presence that bothered her as much as the fact that he was a reminder that she wasn’t good enough—not for Oskar and certainly not for Frank Lehner.

  Before dinner began, Karla met the hotel guests outside the dining room. “Since none of you have stayed at our hotel before, I want to explain that our dining room is set up just as the dining rooms in the kitchen houses throughout all of the villages.”

  Mrs. Wilson, one of the guests who had registered with her husband earlier in the afternoon, waved at Karla. “What is a kitchen house?”

  Karla was accustomed to answering the many questions of guests who visited the Colonies, but generally any inquiries were made during registration. These visitors, however, had been eager to settle in their rooms and rest before supper, so they had inquired only about what time supper would be served.

  After a quick glance toward the kitchen, Karla offered the guests a bright smile and weighed her choices. If she spoke quickly, her response wouldn’t take long, but her thick German accent would make the explanation difficult to understand. If she spoke in a slow and distinct voice, the guests would understand, but the food would get cold—and her mother detested serving cold food. Better to keep her mother happy and give Mrs. Wilson a hurried response.

  Karla inhaled a deep breath. “A Küche or kitchen house is where the residents eat their meals. Each neighborhood has a kitchen house, and we are assigned to the one that is closest to where we live. Since my family operates the hotel and we serve meals to our guests, we prepare meals and eat here as well.”

  From the confused looks on several faces, Karla wasn’t certain the guests had understood, but she waved them toward the large dining room before anyone could ask her to repeat the explanation.

  Once they had gathered behind her in the dining room doorway, she turned to face them. “The men will sit together at the tables to the left and the women to the right.” She didn’t miss the look of surprise that washed over Mrs. Wilson’s face.

  “Why would we do that? My husband and I always sit together for our meals.”

  Karla sighed. Now she wished she would have insisted on explaining their customs earlier, before the guests had gone upstairs to their rooms. “It is our way of life to sit at separate tables, Mrs. Wilson, and we ask our guests to observe the practice when they’re our guests in the Colonies.”

  The older woman tugged on her husband’s arm and looked up at him. From the frown on her face, she appeared to be communicating a private message to him. Mr. Wilson frowned in return but cleared his throat and held up his index finger. “I believe we would rather be seated at the same table.”

  “Think of your visit here as an adventure where you’re able to learn by experiencing the lifestyle of other people.”

  Everyone but Karla turned to see who had spoken. Though she hadn’t seen him standing in the shadows, she had immediately recognized Frank’s voice. “Come and follow me, gentlemen.” He stepped forward and wove his way through the small group. “You should also know that we don’t converse during our meals, though there is ample time to do so afterward in the parlor.”