Patchwork christmas, p.7
Patchwork Christmas, page 7
All thoughts of an early departure escaped Karla’s thoughts when one of the girls announced there was another batch of taffy ready to be pulled. Frank immediately volunteered.
Gerta pushed her way through the group and drew close to Frank’s side as he stood at the table. “I think I heard Sister Karla say her arms were tired. I’d be happy to help you this time, Frank.”
Karla stood nearby and waited to hear what Frank would say. She half expected him to accept Gerta’s offer. Instead, he shook his head. “I told you that I’m Sister Karla’s escort, and if her arms are too tired, we will sit and watch.” He glanced over his shoulder at Karla and winked. “Are you ready to begin again?” He tossed a warm piece of taffy from one hand to the other.
Karla gestured for him to hand her the candy. His eyes twinkled as he gently squeezed her hand before giving her the taffy. Every nerve in her body sprang to life at his touch. Stop it! You will be hurt again. The warning screamed in her head like a whistling wind. For the remainder of the evening, she did everything in her power to temper her feelings for Frank while it seemed he was doing everything in his power to win her heart.
When all of the taffy had been pulled and divided, he gathered their portion into a paper sack and handed it to her. “I did my best to get only the candy we pulled. I know it is the sweetest because you helped make it.”
Warmth flooded her heart. She should ignore the comment. Offering kind words was easy. Commitment was much more difficult. Yet if she was honest with herself, Frank seemed to be offering her both.
While Frank and Paul went to the other room to retrieve their coats, Antje drew near. “You and Frank were having a gut time. It pleases me to see you laugh and enjoy yourself again.” She glanced toward the other side of the room, where Gerta was standing among several young men. “She is very interested in Frank, but he cares for you, Karla. Don’t give her the opportunity to win his heart.”
Karla followed her sister’s eyes. “It appears Sister Gerta is interested in any number of young men. You should remember that I don’t control Frank’s heart. Just like with Oskar, it is his for the giving and taking.”
“Frank isn’t anything like Oskar. He is gut and true.”
Karla smoothed the front of her skirt. “Ja, but he is also a man, and men are attracted to the pretty girls. We both know there are many girls in the Colonies who are much more attractive than me.” She forced a feeble smile. “I remind myself that beauty is a gift from God. He blessed Queen Esther with beauty, and He has blessed you in the same way. But my gift from Him isn’t one of outward beauty.”
Antje’s blue eyes glimmered in the dim light. “So what? Beauty fades. Inner beauty endures. Any man would be proud to call you his wife.”
Disbelief washed over Karla. “What are you saying? Do you not remember what you told me years ago?”
Her sister frowned and shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What did I say?”
“You told me the pretty girls didn’t view me as a threat because of my plain looks.” She swallowed hard. “And the reason Frank took me fishing was because I would bait my own hook and that he would never consider me any more than a friend.”
Antje’s eyes widened to huge proportion. “I said that? Are you certain? I cannot believe I would say such things to you. When was this?”
“I was fourteen and you were twelve, but it seems like only yesterday. I remember every word.” Karla’s voice faltered, and she looked away.
Antje grasped her arm. “We were children. I was probably jealous because Frank took you somewhere and I couldn’t go.” She tipped her head to look into her sister’s eyes. “I’m truly sorry I caused you this pain. To know you believed such terrible words for all these years breaks my heart.” She shook her head. “I can’t change the harm I did, Karla, but please believe me when I tell you that nothing I said back then is true. I hope you can forgive me.”
Karla swiped a tear from her cheek. “You’re my sister, and I love you. How could I do anything less than forgive you?”
Antje pulled her into a tight embrace. “You’re beautiful, both inside and out—you always have been. I hope you won’t let anything that has happened in the past keep you from a wonderful future with Frank.”
“I need to give it time. We will see what happens,” Karla said.
Antje sighed. “I could stand here and tell you how beautiful you are until my breath ran out, but you are the one who must believe it is true. I think you’re leaning on your own understanding, dear sister, and not on God’s, ja?” Antje pressed close to Karla’s ear as Frank and Paul returned with their cloaks. “Put your trust in God and in the plans He has for you.”
Karla bit her lip. How easy it was for beautiful Antje to say such things. She’d never been teased or taunted or disregarded for someone else. But did she have a point? Had Karla been leaning on her own understanding?
They bid the others good night, and the foursome was soon on their way back to the hotel. Frank and Karla took the lead. A short time later, when Karla glanced over her shoulder, Antje and Paul had fallen a good distance behind. “We should wait for them—or tell them to hurry. After we get to the hotel, Paul still must travel to Lower South.”
Frank tenderly grasped her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “Let Paul worry about when and how he will return home. I think he and Antje purposely dropped back so they could be alone.” A shaft of moonlight played hopscotch across Frank’s strong jawline and revealed a twinkle in his eyes. “Or maybe they were being kind and wanted to give us time to be alone.”
She waited a long, aching moment. Frank’s words and behavior were inviting, yet it was so hard to even think of giving her heart to another man. She couldn’t survive being hurt again. “Frank, I’ve tried to make it clear that I—”
He gently tugged her to a halt and placed his finger against her lips. “Please listen carefully to what I’m going to tell you, Karla.” Taking hold of her shoulders, he turned her toward him and stared deep into her eyes. “I promise you that I will always keep my word, and no matter the circumstance, I will do anything I can to help you feel good about life again.” Longing poured from his voice, and he inhaled a ragged breath. “Unless you give me a chance, I can never prove that I’m a man you can trust. Please say you will drop these barriers you’ve built around your heart.” He lifted his hand and trailed his fingers across her cheekbone, then cupped her chin in his palm. “If it will ease your fears, you may test me. I’m a man of my word.”
At the touch of his hand, her heart pulsed a furious beat. Could she trust him? Should she give him a chance? Her head said no, but her heart—oh, how deeply her heart wanted to say yes.
Chapter 7
Even though Karla hadn’t promised to give him a chance the night of the taffy pull, she’d been less guarded around him, and Frank decided that was a good sign. He would continue to pray that God would work in her heart to reveal that he should not be judged based upon the behavior of another man. If he continued to treat her with love, kindness, and affection, surely the walls she had built around her heart would drop like the walls that had surrounded Jericho.
As a young boy, Frank had learned the Bible story of Joshua and the Israelite army circling the city of Jericho with the priests blowing their trumpets until, on the seventh day, the walls fell. He grinned as he arranged several bottles on the shelf of the apothecary. Maybe he should circle around Karla, blowing on a horn until the walls around her heart came down. Now that would be something, for sure!
“What’s so funny, Brother Frank?” Leaning heavily on his cane, Brother Hueber hobbled from the back room.
Frank tapped his finger on the side of his head. “I was just thinking about something. I doubt anyone else would find it amusing.” He pointed to the older man’s cane. “You’re having more trouble walking today, ja?”
Brother Hueber rested his cane against the walnut counter, where an old balance with generous brass pans awaited the weighing of compounds to heal the sick and ailing. “A little, but not so much that I can’t do my job.” An array of colored and clear glass bottles filled with tinctures, powders, and herbs lined the many shelves of the apothecary. The scent of burning pine and oak radiated from the heating stove and mingled with the familiar herbal and medicinal odors as Brother Hueber gazed around the shop. “You have done a gut job keeping everything in order for me.” The old man reached forward and rearranged two of the bottles. “There, that is better.”
Frank grinned. No matter how perfectly he aligned the bottles, Brother Hueber always moved one or two. “Are you feeling gut enough that I can leave and go to the school?”
“Ja, ja.” He gestured toward the front door. “Be on your way, and be sure to tell the boys how they should do gut in their studies so they can go to college and become a doctor, pharmacist, or schoolteacher.”
Frank was eager to go and talk to the boys, but more than that, he hoped to catch a glimpse of Karla teaching her knitting classes at strickschule.
With a shuddering groan, the older man eased into the chair and pointed his cane toward the wall of brass-handled drawers that filled a cabinet below the shelves. “If you would bring me my Bible, I can read until I have a customer.”
Frank handed him the Bible before shrugging into his coat. “I should not be gone more than an hour.”
Brother Hueber opened the leather cover of his Bible. “Any suggestions on what I should read while you’re gone?”
“I’ve been thinking about Joshua a great deal this morning. Maybe you would enjoy reading about the battle he fought at Jericho.”
The older man scratched his balding head. “Joshua it will be, then.” He pushed his glasses against the bridge of his nose and thumbed through the feathery pages of his Bible. “Take all the time you need.”
Frank pushed down on the heavy metal latch and stepped outside. He’d gone only a few steps when he turned up his collar and bent his head against the north wind. Already, he missed the cozy wood-burning stove, but talking to Karla would be worth suffering the cold temperatures. Though his fingers remained stiff and cold, the thought of her warmed his heart.
If he picked up his pace to a jog, he would keep warmer and be inside the school much sooner. At least that was his hope as he propelled himself toward the school, all the time being mindful of slippery patches of ice. When the school came into view, he returned to his familiar long stride. He gulped air, each breath stinging his lungs as he inhaled. Maybe jogging hadn’t been such a grand idea after all. Outside the door of the schoolhouse, he leaned forward and rested his gloved hands on his knees. He’d wait outside long enough for his breathing to steady.
He didn’t want to walk into the classroom and collapse. What a sight that would be. Instead of helping Brother Reichman with the children, Frank would become another burden for the old schoolteacher.
“Frank! Are you ill?”
Surprised, he jerked upright and turned. “Karla! I didn’t hear you.” He clasped a gloved hand to his chest. “I’m fine.”
“Truly? You don’t look fine.” She arched her eyebrows and stared at him.
From the look in her eyes, she appeared both confused and concerned. And he couldn’t blame her. No doubt he’d made quite a spectacle of himself. He pointed a thumb toward the door. “I’m going to talk to Brother Reichman’s class about studying hard and making gut grades in school.”
“So why were you bent over? I thought you might be having chest pains.”
“Nein. My heart is beating fine.” He patted his chest. “I was out of breath from running. The cold air made it hard for me to breathe.”
Karla turned toward the small building where she taught handwork to the children. “My class will begin soon. I should go inside.” She pulled her cloak tighter. “Besides, it is cold.”
He reached forward and placed his hand on her arm. “I thought I would stop in the strickschule when I finish my talk at the school.”
She tipped her head to the side and looked up at him. “For what reason?”
His frustration pulsed to life. He sighed. “Because I would like to see you work with the children and because I enjoy your company. Is that reason enough?”
She giggled, and he stopped. She’d been teasing him. Finally.
“I’m not sure it is proper, and the children might find it hard to concentrate with you there.”
“They will or you will?” He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “I will prove that you’re wrong about the children.” He grinned and tapped his finger on the tip of her nose. “Just wait and see.”
Karla sat down beside young Louisa Neffbaum and covered the girl’s hands with her own. “Let’s try this, Louisa. While holding your hands, I will guide your fingers through several of the stitches and see if that will help.”
When the little girl looked up, Karla noticed a tear forming in one of her cornflower-blue eyes. “Danke, but I don’t think I will ever learn.” Her lower lip trembled as the tear slipped down her plump, rosy cheek. “What will I give my Mutter for Christmas if I cannot finish the mittens?”
“You will finish in time. If necessary, I will stay late and help you. There is no need to cry, Louisa.”
“But the rest of the class have already finished and are knitting or crocheting other gifts.”
“You should not compare yourself to others, Louisa. God gives each of us special talents. While some of the other girls may knit at a faster pace than you, I’m sure there are things you can do better than them. It is best if we are thankful for however we look and whatever talents God gives us, don’t you think?”
“Ja, I think that is right, Sister Karla.” Both Karla and Louisa twisted around to see Frank standing behind them. “That is a gut lesson to always remember—even for big people like me and Sister Karla.” He smiled at Louisa and pointed to a completed mitten resting on Karla’s lap. “If that is the mitten you’re making, I think it looks like a very difficult pattern for such a young girl. I’m pretty gut at knitting, and I’m not sure I could knit that pretty pattern.”
Louisa’s eyes sparkled. “Sister Stuke made the pattern for us. She called it the Homestead Rose.” Louisa pointed to the pattern. “See how it looks like a rose?”
Frank nodded. “It does. But why did she call it the Homestead Rose when we live in South Amana?” He lifted his gaze and looked at the boys and girls sitting across from him. A woven knitting basket rested on the floor beside each child, and lengths of yarn draped from the numerous knitting needles or crochet hooks to the colorful balls of yarn inside their baskets. “Do any of you boys or girls know the answer?” Wide-eyed, they all looked at Karla and shook their heads.
Louisa frowned. “Why did you name it after Homestead, Sister Stuke?”
“Sister Karen brought it with her when her family moved here from Homestead. They were the caretakers at the Homestead meetinghouse, and she found the mitten one day when she was cleaning.”
Several of the other children drew near to hear the story as Karla continued. “For a number of years, she tried to find the owner, but no one ever claimed it. After Sister Karen’s family moved to South, she found it in one of her trunks and showed it to me. I created the pattern from looking at the one Sister Karen found, and I named it the Homestead Rose because it was found in their meetinghouse.”
“Then I would say that is a very gut reason for the name.” Frank sat down on the bench beside her and pointed to Louisa’s mitten. “Maybe I should see if I can knit this pattern.”
The children applauded and urged him on.
“Don’t encourage him, children. If he takes up Louisa’s needles, I fear I will have to rip out all the stitches and replace them.”
“You have no confidence in me?” Frank leaned around Karla and faced Louisa. “Do you trust me with your mitten, Sister Louisa?”
The little girl’s forehead creased, and her eyebrows drooped low as she considered his question. “If Sister Stuke will fix it when you’re done. I have to be finished in time for Christmas.”
He grinned at Louisa. “That does not sound as though you have great belief in my knitting ability, but let me see what I can do.”
Frank looped the yarn around his index finger and dug the needle into the stitch. When he wrapped the yarn below the needle, Louisa jumped up and squealed. “You’re supposed to purl, not knit. On this row, the yarn goes over the top, not underneath.”
“Ja, ja, I see now. Danke, Sister Louisa.” He had been pretty good at knitting as a boy, but his large hands and years away from the craft revealed he’d lost a great deal of his ability. “I think it is beginning to come back to me now.”
Louisa sighed and shook her head. “That stitch is too loose. It must come out, right, Sister Stuke?”
Karla gave a firm nod. “She is right—it is much too loose.”
“Maybe you should teach him the way you were showing me. That way you won’t have to rip out too much.” Louisa beamed a proud look at both of them.
Frank scooted closer to Karla. “That is a gut idea, Sister Louisa. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself.”
“I’m not sure Brother Lehner truly needs knitting lessons since he has no need to knit, Louisa. Perhaps he should give you back your mitten so that you may work on it yourself.”
Frank grinned at her. “I may want to knit someone a pair of mittens for Christmas, and unless you help me, I will not be able to complete my gift. It has been a long time since I was taught to knit in strickschule.”
For a moment, she considered arguing with him. But with the children listening, it would be best to do as he asked so he would be on his way. She gestured to the group of children. “All of you must get your yarn baskets and return to work. You already know how to knit. There is no need to stand here and watch while I help Brother Lehner.”
Still holding a knitting needle in each hand and with the partially knitted mitten dangling between the needles, he extended his arms toward her. “I’m at your command.”
