Fields of Grace Read Free

harm could come to you.” Lillian’s worries went beyond physical harm. What kind of influences might her son’s young, impressionable mind encounter when away from home and the bounds of faith?
    For long moments Henrik stood with his mouth clamped tight, staring across the shadowed yard. Finally he met her eyes. “But do you wish we could stay?”
    “Jo.” She swallowed the lump of longing that threatened to strangle her. “I wish we could stay. I love Gnadenfeld and our house, but wishing does not change the facts. If we stay, you—and eventually Joseph and Jakob—will be forced to serve in the army. Our God instructs us not to kill. We cannot support an organization whose purpose is to take lives. As hard as we find it, we must start over in a place where we can live freely, not bound by the rules of a government that has no respect for our beliefs.”
    “But so far, Ma? Must we go so far?”
    The anguished question made Lillian long to wrap him in her arms and rock away his hurt the way she had when he was little. But Henrik was nearly a man. A hug from his mother would not cure the pain he now carried. She gave his hands another squeeze. “Yes, son, we must go very far.”
    Henrik pulled loose from her grasp. “I will take that walk now.”
    Lillian watched him stride away through the waning light. The slope of his shoulders and his low-slung head reflected a despondency that matched the somber backdrop of gray shadows and darkening sky. Blinking back tears, Lillian sank onto the bench and lowered her head.
    She wished she could pray, but what would prayers avail? Would the czar change his mind about military service? Would Reinhardt change his mind about leaving? No. So she held her prayers and her hurt inside and remained on the bench until the long shadows enveloped her.

2

    E li slipped the paper tickets from his jacket pocket and laid them on the table’s hand-rubbed top in a neat row. “There they are—enough for all of your family and for me. We will board the Holsatia in Hamburg on the morning of June fifth.”
    Little Jakob wriggled in his seat. “A ticket for me, too, Onkel Eli?”
    Reinhardt sent the boy a sharp look. “Eat your pluma moos and leave the talking to the grownups.”
    The child picked up his spoon and slurped a bite. But, unabashed, his bright eyes bounced back and forth between the men as the conversation continued.
    “It is a merchant ship, but they have turned hallways into sleeping rooms with bunks that fold down from the wall at night and push back up for space during the day. Most of the passenger list is made up of Germans, so we will be able to communicate with others on the way.” Eli chuckled, winking at Jakob. “We can speak the High German and pretend we are always in worship service, jo ?”
    The little boy rewarded him with a gap-toothed smile, and Eli continued. “Because it is a merchant ship, berths are only for the crew members. I was unable to get a private berth for you and Lillian. We will all be in the sleeping hallways.”
    “Bunks?” Reinhardt frowned briefly, but then he shook his head. “It does not matter. We will be on the ship for little more than a month. We can tolerate bunks as long as it means we will reach America.”
    Eli nodded. The idea of sharing a sleeping space with dozens of others did not appeal to him, either. Living alone, he had become accustomed to privacy. Yet he wouldn’t complain. Didn’t his Bible tell him to be content in all circumstances? Surely this included being satisfied with a bunk on a ship.
    “This means we will arrive in early July, giving us time to travel on to Kansas, build a shelter, and prepare the ground to receive seed for October’s planting.” For a moment, Eli worried his lower lip between his teeth. Would the soil of America receive and nourish their hearty winter wheat as well as Russia’s plains had for the past century?
    The thought of wheat reminded him of something else. Resting his elbow on