A Hidden Truth Read Free

regarding the colonies, determined what work could best be accomplished in each village, they’d long ago decided our Küche should distribute the mail and medicine in East Amana. My mother performed those tasks in the same orderly fashion as she operated the kitchen. A large wooden structure divided into cubbyholes bore the name of each family in the village. Each day, Mother or I sorted the mail and placed it in the proper boxes for pickup. Overseeing the medicine cabinet required far less time than the mail. The medicine chest remained locked, but I knew where to find the key—just in case Mother was gone when someone needed medicine. Of course, the doctor from Main Amana could be summoned for anyone who needed care beyond the basic remedies stocked in our kitchen house.
    â€œI’ll have the mail sorted before time for the noonday meal, Mutter .” I donned my cape and hurried toward the door. A strong breeze captured the thick wool fabric and whipped it away from my body, the cold air biting through my plain blue flannel skirt. Gathering the edge of the cloak, I pulled it tight before I waved to Brother Herman. “Guten Morgen.” I looked toward the darkening sky as I called out my greeting. “It is getting colder, ja ?”
    He bobbed his head and leaned down to take the mailbag I offered. “Ja, for sure. Tell Sister Louise she should not put the blame on me for the tardy delivery. The train was late this morning.” He grinned and handed me the burlap sack stamped with the word EAST on both sides. “Inside you should go, before you catch a cold.” He pointed toward the horizon and touched the brim of his hat. “Looks like it could snow this afternoon. Auf Wiedersehen, Sister Karlina. And don’t forget to give your Mutter my message.”
    â€œI’ll tell her.” Holding the bag tight in my hand, I shivered and glanced toward the sheep barns. Had Father already herded them into the barn? If not, he would likely need help. With the change of weather, his bones would be aching by the time he returned for the noonday meal. I longed to run to the barn and find out, but one look at the sack in my hand and I knew I must go inside.
    After hanging my cape on the peg near the door, I stepped into the kitchen. “Brother Herman said I should tell you the train was late, so you should not blame him.”
    â€œJa, ja. Excuses, he always has for me.”
    I grinned and shook the bag. “There isn’t much today. I’ll have it sorted and in the boxes in no time.” Though my first choice was working with the sheep, I preferred sorting mail to peeling potatoes or cutting noodles. Much to my mother’s dismay, the kitchen held no interest for me.
    Moving through the envelopes with practiced ease, I sorted and slipped each piece into the appropriate box. As I neared the bottom of the pile, my gaze fell upon a cream-colored envelope addressed to my mother and written in a beautiful script. In the upper left corner was a smaller script bearing the name of the sender. Dovie Cates . I searched my mind trying to recollect if I’d ever before heard that name, but I could recall nothing. Surely I would remember such an unusual name.
    I shoved the final piece of mail into the Bechmers’ mail slot, picked up my mother’s letter, and hurried to the kitchen. Stepping close to her side, I tapped the envelope while trying to calm my curiosity. “Who is Dovie Cates?”
    My mother’s eyebrows dropped low on her forehead. She took the letter from my hand and examined the handwriting. “She’s my cousin Barbara’s daughter.” Her complexion paled and she hesitated a moment before she shoved the letter into her apron pocket. “I’ll read it later.”
    My excitement plummeted like a deflated balloon. “Later? But there’s time before the meal must be served.”
    â€œI think I am a better judge of how much time