A Hidden Truth Read Free Page B

knew when you walked in the door that you would need some medicine.” She reached into her skirt pocket and withdrew a packet of powders Dr. Zimmer, the physician in Main Amana, had prescribed. “Sit down at the table and I’ll bring you water.”
    He didn’t argue. My father may have been interested in the contents of Dovie Cates’s letter, but right now his pain exceeded his curiosity. Moments later I was sitting beside him when my mother returned with the water. She arched her brows. “If your Vater doesn’t need your help, you can go upstairs and dust the furniture.”
    My father dumped the packet of powder into the glass, stirred, and swallowed the mixture in one gulp. He swiped the back of his hand across his lips. “We thought you would want to share your letter with us.” He glanced at me. “Isn’t that right, Karlina?”
    â€œJa. I told Vater about your letter from Cousin Barbara’s daughter.”
    My mother slapped the pocket of her apron, and the envelope crackled against her palm. “ Ach . I already forgot about the letter, but that one—she is always putting her nose into the business of others.” My mother tapped her nose and looked at me. I thought she might refuse to open the letter now, but she winked and withdrew the letter from her pocket. “Let’s see what Dovie has to say.” Sliding the tip of her finger beneath the seal, she opened the envelope and withdrew several sheets of stationery that matched the creamy envelope.
    My mother unfolded the pages, her eyes rapidly moving back and forth as she read the first page. Father sat quietly while I fidgeted, hoping she would soon say something. When she placed the first page face down on the table and continued to the second page without a word, I could stand it no longer. “She has pretty handwriting, ja?”
    A silent nod was my mother’s only response. My father patted my hand. “Patience is a virtue, child. Your mother will talk to us once she has finished reading.”
    I did my best to heed my father’s words, but I now wished I’d taken a seat alongside my mother, where I might have been able to read over her shoulder. Instead, I intently watched her features change as she read. On the first page she had appeared sad, but now her face reflected surprise, and as she finished, I saw worry in her eyes.
    My father waited a moment. “Bad news?”
    â€œCousin Barbara is dead. Influenza. About two months ago.” Sadness tugged at my mother’s lips.
    No doubt she was also recalling the deaths of my twin brothers. Whenever someone in the villages died of pneumonia or influenza, a sad longing returned to my mother’s eyes. For all of us it rekindled memories of what their lives might have been.
    Mother cleared her throat and swallowed. “Barbara was never blessed with good health.”
    My father reached across and patted my mother’s hand. “Barbara’s suffering is over and she is in a better place—she is with the Lord.”
    â€œJa, I know. And I will see her again one day. Still, it is hard to know she is gone from this earth.” She gathered the pages and put them in order. “Her daughter wants to come here for a visit.”
    My father’s jaw went slack, and he picked up the letter. “Maybe she doesn’t understand German so well and confused her message to you.”
    â€œHer German is very gut . There is no mistake. She says her father’s work requires that they move to Texas. She wants to come here and visit with us while he goes and finds a house for them.”
    Mother startled when I clapped my hands together. “That would be wonderful! How old is she? It would be like having a sister here in the house with me.”
    Pans clattered in the kitchen and my mother frowned. “I am thinking she is twenty-one or twenty-two—maybe twenty-three. For sure, she is a year or two