Judith Miller - [Daughters of Amana 01] Read Online Free

hand, had never desired siblings. My friends all agreed that brothers and sisters were tattletales of the worst sort. “Then it seems I am the only one who needs further advice. I’ll go downstairs and speak with Sister Johanna. It seems that I have been instantly blessed with a multitude of brothers and sisters.”
    I’d reached the bottom step when Johanna exited a room farther down the entry hall. With a pretty dress and decent hairstyle, Johanna would be a beautiful woman. Perhaps I could convince her to let me fashion her ash blond hair into an attractive new style that would accent her delicate features and deep blue eyes. I hurried toward her, my excitement mounting. “You have a bedroom that opens into the hallway?” Like dandelions in spring, my mind ran wild with possible schemes. With such a bedroom, it would be possible to enter and exit the house without being noticed.
    My excitement diminished when Johanna shook her head. “No. Those are Oma Reich’s rooms. She’s a widow without family, and her health is failing. She lives in two small rooms, and we assist her as needed. Sister Stilson and her son, Rudolf, live in the other rooms upstairs.”
    I swallowed hard. “I didn’t know so many people lived here. So we will have only those three upstairs rooms?”
    Johanna nodded. Though she told me our family was fortunate to have two bedrooms with such a small family, I found her words difficult to believe.
    “Many do not receive separate bedrooms, and almost always the children must share the same room.”
    Her comment made me happy I didn’t have any siblings. My bedroom was too small for even one person. “How is that possible? Where do they store their belongings?”
    “We don’t need space for fancy dresses and hats. Our attire is simple.” Johanna glanced toward the front door. “It’s already dark outside. Were you going somewhere?”
    “No. I’ve come for some instruction about tomorrow.” Knowing she’d observed my earlier behavior, I wasn’t surprised when she exhibited a lack of enthusiasm. Nevertheless, she invited me into their rooms.
    Mrs. Ilg sat near a cast-iron stove that was a perfect match for the one in the upstairs parlor. She welcomed me, but I saw the wary look in her eyes. She probably feared I’d returned to create another scene. I did my best to set her at ease, but she appeared unable to concentrate on the handwork she held between her short, thick fingers.
    I leaned forward to better examine what she was creating. “Making socks?”
    She shook her head. “I am crocheting a new head covering for Oma Reich. In the wintertime, the children knit socks and mittens for all of us who live in Amana.” I arched my brows and the older woman continued. “During the afternoons, the younger ones learn to knit and crochet; the older children are taught a trade. Once they complete their schooling, they are prepared to serve the community with their skills.”
    “I’m not good with handwork.”
    Johanna’s mother didn’t appear surprised by my revelation.
    “They tried to teach me needlepoint at finishing school, but I was a miserable failure. My thread was always in a knot.”
    “Perhaps with the proper attitude, you will conquer your earlier inabilities. Johanna could help you in the evenings if you’d care to learn.”
    I offered a fleeting smile. When I was younger, my mother’s knitting needles had occasionally proved to be wonderful weapons for poking a playmate, but I didn’t want to learn to tat or knit or crochet. In fact, I didn’t want to learn to use a needle of any sort— at least not for fancywork.
    “First I believe I must learn about the kitchen work. My parents said I should ask what time my work begins tomorrow morning.”
    Johanna cleared her throat. “I am cooking breakfast this week, so we must be at the kitchen by five o’clock to light the stove and make the coffee before the others arrive.”
    “Five o’clock in the morning?” My voice