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her apron comforting with
Sauerkraut
smells. “I know,” she said. “Your father forewarned me, though he didn’t tink what you might say.”
    “You never saw my interest?” I asked my father later as he drank strong tea at the head of the table.
    My father merely raised an eyebrow, his “well, well,” look, the same he gave me when as a child I asked some question about why sheep’s wool held heavy oils or when I urged him to tell me something I didn’t already know. I suppose he welcomed my inquisitive nature, knew in advance the challenge Christian’s life would have for me, both encouraging it and tempering it.
    Jonathan sounded the only sour note I heard. “What’s Christian Giesy see in you?”
    “
Ach
, Jonathan,” my mother cautioned. “Be happy for your sister,
ja?
”
    Jonathan grunted as he cut his sausage, popped a section in his mouth. “He’s a tinsmith with the gift of gab,” he said. “Think of how many girls he’s been exposed to. Why would he settle for you?” I don’t think he meant to hurt my feelings, and in truth, he said out loud whatwould have eventually made its way into my consciousness. But until then, I saw Christian’s interest as an answer to my prayers, as a tapestry God saw fit to stitch together: two hearts, two hands, two souls hemmed by faith.
    “Do you think Father Keil will forbid it?” David Jr. said. He held his fork midair above his egg. “There is something noble in being a bachelor, I think.”
    “Why should he?” I asked. “Papa’s approved. And Christian is beloved by Father Keil. He wants him to be happy.”
    “He didn’t think of it himself, though,” Jonathan said. “Father Keil likes to be in charge of all things. A good leader is, sister. Willie told me that.”
    My father corrected. “It’s a leader’s duty to have authority, but this does not mean power used for personal views. He doesn’t think he must order everything, Jonathan. Maybe Willie chomps at the reins the way young men do. Willie’s time will come.”
    “It will be a strange marriage with Christian leaving again soon,” Jonathan said. “That’s his way, his work.”
    “I’ll not hear any more contrary thoughts.” I put hands over my ears. “Not from you or anyone else.” I left the room.
    Christian and I agreed not to say anything outside our families until receiving our leader’s blessings. I didn’t know what the Giesy family thought of me, though it seemed that Helena was more distant in the classroom, where we helped Karl Ruge, than she’d been before. She acted more formal, but I might have been imagining that. I have an active imaginary life, which led me to wonder if Christian’s absence after New Year’s was planned or happenstance. Either way, Jonathan proved himself clairvoyant. Christian and I had had no time together since he stated his intentions. But then, he was a busy man, had always been.
    He met with our leader and the men’s council, a group of twelvewho advised about the happenings at Nineveh, an offshoot colony near Hannibal, where we ran a ferry and a steam mill that powered huge textile looms. The men advised about work at Bethel too. Christian was often gone, but I felt sure he’d return for our leader’s birthday. It was always a grand affair. I prayed for patience.
    Two days before our leader’s birthday, Christian again knocked on our door, Sheppie’s happy wagging tail expressing my thoughts completely. That day, I asked Christian about what my brother and sister said. We sat at my parents’ house on a hard bench set before the fireplace while my family discreetly kept us within sight but out of hearing, my mother spinning and my father polishing a bridle to keep the leather soft. The boys stayed outside, and my sisters whispered in the rooms above us. I could almost imagine them hovering over the opening that allowed heat and sound to rise up through the ceiling. Christian had first spent an hour with my father, telling news