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

cracked. Did people really get up at that time of day?
    “Next week we don’t have to be there until six o’clock,” Johanna hastened to add.
    I stared at her in disbelief. “Six o’clock isn’t much better. I’m unaccustomed to rising at such an early hour. I’d like to ask those elders if I can begin later in the morning. How do I do that?”
    Johanna’s mother inhaled with a slight gasp. “You cannot do such a thing. If you don’t adhere to the proper hours, the food will not be ready to eat at the scheduled time and work cannot begin on time.”
    “Has anyone ever considered changing the schedule, Mrs. Ilg? What about beginning later in the day and working a little later into the evening? I’d guess there are many people who’d prefer to sleep longer.”
    The older woman placed her crocheting in the basket near her chair and folded her hands in her lap. “Nearly five hundred people live in this village, and you want them to change the schedule for you? I think it works better for you to change the hour you get out of bed in the morning, ja? And you may address me as Sister Ilg.”
    She had forced each word through tight lips. Clearly, I’d offended her. “Merely a suggestion,” I said, hoping to make amends. I didn’t want her running upstairs and telling Father I was creating more problems.
    “I’ll wait for you by the front door in the morning.” Johanna motioned for me to wait. “Before you go upstairs, let me give you your clothes.” I waited while she scuttled off to the other room and returned with a stack of folded dark calico. “You’ll receive several additional dresses, but tomorrow you can wear this one.” She offered quick instructions on how I should tuck the cotton shawl into the wide waistband of the skirt. “There are work aprons at the kitchen to protect our clothing.”
    I wasn’t at all sure the dress needed protection. I didn’t think a few splashes of food would do it any harm. To my way of thinking, the plain garb could use a little color, but I didn’t say so. Instead, I asked what work I would be expected to perform the next day. “I’ve had no experience working in a kitchen.”
    Sister Ilg tipped her head to the side. “I would guess you’ve had little work experience of any kind.”
    “I’ve become fairly accomplished at climbing trees, but I don’t think you’d count that as work.”
    “Not unless you were picking apples while you were up there,” the older woman replied. She reached down and retrieved her thread and crochet hook from the basket.
    “I don’t think I ever gathered enough for a pie. Then again, I don’t know how many apples it takes to make a pie.” There’d been a few occasions when I’d picked an overripe apple or pear to toss down on unsuspecting schoolmates passing below, but I didn’t think that was what Sister Ilg had in mind.
    “Well, you’ll soon learn how much fruit it takes to make nine or ten pies. That’s how many are needed so that each person receives a nice slice at the Muhlbach Küche .”
    Johanna took note of my confusion and quickly explained that the Muhlbach Küche was the kitchen in our neighborhood. The one where I would work. “Each kitchen house bears the name of the Küchebaas, the kitchen boss. We serve forty or fifty people three meals each day as well as a light midmorning and midafternoon lunch of bread and cheese, or sometimes leftover pastry.”
    Sister Ilg pointed the crochet hook in my direction. “You suit yourself, but if you are as smart as I think you are, you’ll behave yourself in Thekla Muhlbach’s kitchen.”
    “I’ll try my best.” I still hadn’t learned what would be expected of me the following morning, but I decided it might be best if I didn’t know in advance. I sidestepped toward the door. I couldn’t imagine cooking for myself, much less for forty or fifty other people. What did that many people eat for breakfast? One thing was certain. If I prepared their breakfast,