A Simple Song Page 2

  Aunt Alma slowly opened the door, and the squeaking hinge sent a chill down the back of Katrina’s neck as she followed her aunt in. To her relief there was nothing amiss or unusual about this dimly lit room. Like the others in the house, it had well-worn wooden floors and sparse furnishings. Aunt Alma went over to the tall, narrow window next to the bed and pulled the pale muslin curtains open, letting the spring sunlight flood in and making the room more cheerful. Katrina knew that some of Mammi’s more conservative neighbors had questioned her use of curtains, wondering what she had to hide. But the curtains had remained in place for so many years that they looked as if they might fall apart if handled too roughly.

  Katrina glanced around, taking in the neatly made bed with one of Aunt Alma’s quilts on top and the straight-backed wooden chair next to the small, plain dresser. As usual, a few items of clothing hung on pegs near the door. Truly, it seemed Mammi’s things could not include much to sort through, although Katrina appreciated being asked to help.

  “It’s down here.” Aunt Alma kneeled down on the faded rag rug that Mammi had crocheted many years ago—another luxury that some of her neighbors would probably question. She bent over, letting out a groan as she stretched to reach something beneath the bed.

  “Here, let me help you.” Katrina got down beside her, and together they tugged out a small wooden trunk covered with dust. “What is this?”

  “It was your mammi’s.” Aunt Alma sat down on the chair with a tired sigh. “I believe my daed made the box for her shortly after they married. I barely remember it. But this morning he reminded me of it. He said that everything inside of this belonged to her.”

  Katrina knocked on the lid, seeing that it was nailed tightly shut. “What are we supposed to do with it?”

  “Open it.”

  “How?”

  To Katrina’s surprise, Aunt Alma produced a hammer that she must have concealed beneath her apron earlier. “With this.”

  Katrina felt a rush of excitement. “Are we allowed to open it?”

  Suddenly Aunt Alma glanced at the open bedroom door with a worried look.

  “Do you want me to close it?” Katrina asked.

  Aunt Alma somberly nodded.

  With her curiosity growing, Katrina hurried to the door, and after peering down the hallway to be sure that Aunt Fannie wasn’t lurking nearby, she quietly closed it.

  “Daed asked me to deal with this box for him.” Aunt Alma knelt down again, and using the claw end of the hammer, she pried out a nail and then another. Almost afraid to breathe, Katrina watched her aunt with wide eyes until finally she removed the lid and set it aside.

  2

  “Oh, my!” With the hammer still in her hand, Aunt Alma sat back on the chair, pushed a gray strand of hair back into place beneath her kapp, and let out a sigh.

  Katrina stared into the box at something made of fabric. It looked like an odd sort of patchwork, but the shapes were irregular and the fabrics were strange. Some were colorful prints, others were shiny, some were velvety, and there were even ribbons and lace sewn in. “What is it?” Katrina asked.

  “Take it out and see,” Aunt Alma told her.

  Katrina carefully removed what looked to be some sort of garment. Standing and holding it up to its full length, she saw that it was a very colorful patchwork sort of dress that reached nearly to her ankles.

  “How interesting.” Aunt Alma reached over to examine the fabric. “Someone put a lot of work into making this.”

  Katrina laid the dress upon the bed, then removed a square piece of flat cardboard. It had a faded photograph of three people on the front and the words Windy Grove on top. In smaller letters it said Willow Tree on the bottom. Inside was a black, round disk. “Do you think this is a phonograph record?” she asked her aunt. “I’ve read about such things, but I’ve never actually seen one.”

  Aunt Alma just shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  “How old were you when Mammi married your daed?”

  “About five.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  She sighed. “Well, I’m nearly fifty. So it was about forty-five years ago.”

  Katrina was doing the math in her head. “So that would’ve been the late 1960s, and Mammi must’ve been around twenty-nine then.”

  “Ja.” Aunt Alma nodded. “That sounds about right.”

  “Willow Tree . . . Windy Grove,” Katrina read the words aloud. “I wonder what that means.”

  “Look at that woman there,” Aunt Alma said suddenly. “Do you know who I think that is?” She reached for the record cover now, studying the image closely. Holding it up, she looked at Katrina in astonishment. “Unless I’m mistaken, that young woman is your mammi.”

  “Are you serious?” Katrina stared at the smiling, dark-haired woman in disbelief. Was it possible her gray-haired mammi had ever looked like that?

  “Can’t you see it?”

  “See what?” All Katrina saw was a long-haired, pretty young woman in a long, brightly colored dress, and two bearded men standing on either side.

  “She looks just like you.”

  Katrina blinked. “Really?”

  “Ja.” Aunt Alma turned the cover over, peering at the words on the back. “Starla Knight,” she declared. “Knight must’ve been Mamm’s maiden name before she married Daed.”

  Katrina nodded. “Ja. Her first name was Starla. I remember it because it was kind of a strange name.”

  “She gave your daed a bit of a strange name too,” Aunt Alma mused.

  “Frost?” Katrina thought for a moment. “I guess it is strange . . . but I’m used to it. Daed always says it was because it was such a cold morning when he was born.”

  Aunt Alma nodded. “It was.”

  “Starla Knight . . .” Katrina ran the words over her tongue. “It’s so pretty. It almost sounds like starlit night.”

  “Do you think she was part of some sort of musical group?” Aunt Alma asked with wide eyes.

  Katrina felt a strange rush running through her. “Was Mammi a singer?”

  “She did have a beautiful singing voice,” Aunt Alma said quietly.

  “You heard her sing?”

  “Only a time or two . . . and only when she didn’t know I was listening. I caught her singing in the garden once. And one time when she was hanging the wash. It was so beautiful I wanted to hear more, but when I asked her to sing for me, she flat out refused. She scolded me and told me to never speak of it to anyone. And I never did . . . until now. I do hope she’ll forgive me for telling you.”

  “I’m sure she will. Mammi was always a very forgiving soul.” Katrina was fascinated as she continued looking through the box, finding an odd pair of boots and some other strange items, as well as some envelopes and papers. But nothing interested her as much as the mysterious phonograph record.

  “What are you going to do with these?” she finally asked her aunt.

  “I don’t know. Daed just wanted me to get rid of them. He even suggested I burn them. Mostly he doesn’t want anyone to see them. Particularly your daed.”

  “Burn them?” Katrina clutched the dress and record protectively. “Please don’t.”

  Aunt Alma frowned. “No, I don’t want to do that.”

  “Why would Daadi want to burn these?”

  “He said he was worried that at his age, he might pass on suddenly like Mamm did.” Aunt Alma’s brow creased. “He was concerned that Fannie might be the one to clean this room and find this box . . . and, well, you never know how that could end up.”

  Katrina did know. Aunt Fannie was a talker. No secret was safe with that woman. But even worse, Aunt Fannie acted like she was better than the rest of them. She was quick to judge and condemn others without having all the facts. Katrina could only imagine how Aunt Fannie would react if she saw the contents of this box . . . or the implications that seemed to be contained in it.

  “May I keep these things?” Katrina asked hopefully.

  Aunt A
lma nodded. “Ja. I think your mammi would like that. I know I would like that. As long as you can keep your daed and the rest of your family from seeing them.”

  “I can do that.” Katrina hoped she could.

  “Let’s bundle them up in something,” Aunt Alma suggested.

  “Ja. I don’t want anyone to see me carrying this out.”

  Aunt Alma removed a pale blue dress from a peg on the wall. “This was her favorite dress. You can have it too. Wrap it around everything you want to take, and if anyone asks, you can tell them it’s just some old clothing your mammi left to you.”

  With the mysterious items safely wrapped in her mammi’s dress, Katrina was about to go.

  “Wait.” Aunt Alma put her hand over her mouth. “I just remembered something else.”

  “What?” Katrina watched as her aunt opened the bottom dresser drawer, going through what appeared to be Mammi’s underclothes. Katrina hoped she wasn’t going to make her take those too.

  “Here.” Aunt Alma was unrolling a piece of white cloth to reveal something small and rectangular.

  “Is that a cell phone?” Katrina peered curiously at what looked like a hand-sized electronic device but unlike other cell phones that she’d seen.

  “I don’t know for sure.” Aunt Alma uncurled a yellowed cord. “But Mamm sometimes had this with her when she thought she was alone.” She pointed to the round piece at the end of the cord. “This went in her ear, but she didn’t want anyone to see—”

  Just then there was a loud knock on the door, and Aunt Alma placed her back to the door as she bundled up the little box and thrust it at Katrina.

  “Who is in there?” Aunt Fannie demanded. “Open this door!”

  Katrina shoved the small package into her large bundle, wrapping it snugly under the blue dress as Aunt Fannie pushed open the door.

  “It’s only us,” Aunt Alma calmly told her, although her cheeks were flushed and her pale blue eyes were glittering with excitement.

  “What are you two doing in here?” Aunt Fannie looked suspiciously from one to the other. “And why was this door blocked?”

  “I was simply standing in front of it,” Aunt Alma said.

  “What is that?” Aunt Fannie pointed at the bundle in Katrina’s arms.

  “Those are the things Mamm left to Katrina.”

  “To Katrina?” Aunt Fannie narrowed her eyes. “I never heard a word of this.”

  “Ask Daed to explain it to you,” Aunt Alma firmly told her. “I am simply obeying his instructions.”

  Aunt Fannie pressed her lips tightly together. She knew better than to question her father-in-law since he was still the head of their household. “Well, it does seem odd,” she said finally, “for Mamm to leave her things to Katrina like this.” She peered at the bundle. “But I don’t know if that surprises me. Mamm was always an odd one.”

  Katrina exchanged glances with Aunt Alma.

  “Mamm is not here to defend herself.” Aunt Alma spoke sharply to her sister-in-law. “And one should not speak ill of the dead.” She waved her hand. “Certainly not in the departed’s own room.”

  Aunt Fannie looked slightly flustered now.

  “If you’ll excuse us,” Aunt Alma continued, “I have chores to attend to, and I’m certain that Katrina is needed at home.”

  “Ja.” Katrina nodded eagerly. “That’s right.” She tossed Aunt Alma a grateful look, then hurried out the door and down the hallway. Slipping quietly down the stairs and out the back door, she cut behind the house and down the fence line alongside the recently planted cornfield, and she went directly home.

  To her relief, her family wasn’t home yet. After taking her precious bundle up to the bedroom she shared with Sadie, she was unsure what to do. Looking around the small room, she knew there was no place to hide all these things. And as much as she loved her spirited and precocious fourteen-year-old sister, she wasn’t sure she trusted her with Mammi’s secrets. Although Sadie, like Katrina, was only related to Aunt Fannie by marriage, she did seem to have some of the same personality traits—including a loose tongue at times. What if Sadie told her friends about Mammi’s mysterious box of items?

  Thinking of Sadie’s friends reminded Katrina of her most trusted friend. Bekka was blessed to have a room of her own now that her older sister, Louisa, had married. Not only did Bekka have a private bedroom, but because she helped with her family’s soy candle–making business, she also had more freedom than most of Katrina’s friends.

  Katrina was about to leave for Bekka’s when she realized Sadie might’ve gotten wind that Katrina had inherited some things from Mammi. Aunt Fannie might be talking about it in the kitchen right this minute. Katrina decided to leave a few things behind, including the strange patchwork dress and boots as well as Mammi’s favorite old blue dress. She put them in the bottom drawer of the dresser she shared with Sadie, knowing that although it was supposed to be Katrina’s drawer, it would only be a matter of time before Sadie discovered them. Hopefully the strange items wouldn’t invite too many questions—and if they did, Katrina would simply explain that they were from Mammi’s life before she left the English and joined the church. What was so unusual about that?

  She bagged up the rest of the things in a canvas shopping bag, left Mamm a note in the kitchen promising to be back in time for evening chores, and took off toward Bekka’s house. Once again, she cut across the fields, carefully walking the fence lines to avoid stepping on the tender sprouts that were just coming up all over. In a month’s time all this acreage would be lush and green with produce, and by summer’s end, it would be ready to harvest.

  Although Daadi owned this acreage, they all called it the family farm. But because Uncle Willis, born to Daadi’s first wife, was ten years older than Daed, he had taken over managing it years ago. Still, they called themselves partners, and up until the tractor accident several years ago, Daed had always worked hard. Now he felt sorry that he was unable to do his “fair share,” but fortunately Katrina’s two older brothers, Drew and Cal, were strong and fit and both seemed to love agriculture. Much more so than Uncle Willis’s only son. Thomas had no interest in farming and was currently trying to start a business. Because Drew and Cal did most of the farm work, Katrina expected that Daadi would make them partners in the farm someday—hopefully in the not too distant future because Drew, who’d been baptized a few years ago, wanted to ask his girlfriend, Hannah, to wed. Hannah taught school but would gladly give it up to marry Drew. Especially if Drew inherited part of the farm.

  Katrina could see Bekka’s house now. It had once been a farmhouse too, but their land had been divided and Bekka’s father had taken the smallest parcels. Now instead of growing produce like his brothers did, Bekka’s father grew mostly herbs and flowers that the family dried and used to make candles and soaps. They’d started out by selling their goods to local shops but had eventually expanded into a larger business that shipped candles and soaps all over the country. As a result, Bekka had learned how to run a computer, and she handled most of the orders herself.

  Katrina suspected she’d find Bekka working on the computer in the office, which was actually just an old root storage room attached to the back of the house. A few times Katrina had helped her print mailing labels, but most of what Bekka did, Katrina didn’t fully understand. Sometimes she wondered if Bekka wasn’t just pretending to work.

  “Hello?” Katrina called as she tapped on the door. “Bekka?”

  “Oh?” Bekka looked startled as she turned off the monitor, concealing whatever she had been looking at on the screen. “Katrina, what are you doing here?”

  “I need your help.” Katrina glanced around the small, crowded room. One wall had a shelf full of car batteries that Bekka used to power the computer. Another wall had the printer and paper supplies against it. The third wall, where Bekka worked, had a small desk with her computer and a telephone that was only used for business.

  “Help with what?” Bekka eyed her canvas shoppi
ng bag. “What have you got there?”

  Katrina closed the door. “Something I don’t want Sadie to see.”

  Bekka came closer, peering curiously into the bag.

  “I don’t even know what all of it is.” Katrina began to unload the contents, setting the various items on a cleared-off space next to the computer. “This all belonged to my grandmother.” She told Bekka what had happened upstairs in her grandparents’ house, perhaps making it seem more exciting than it was—if that was even possible.

  Bekka’s eyes were huge now. “Your grandmother was a singer in a band?”

  “Well, I’m not sure that it was a band exactly.” She held up the record cover. “But it seems she was musical. I mean, this is a record, after all. That suggests music.”

  “Willow Tree?” Bekka got a thoughtful look. “That does sound like the name of a music group.”

  Katrina frowned. “How would you even know?”

  Bekka’s fine brows arched mysteriously. “I have my ways.”

  Katrina pointed to the computer with a knowing look. “You mean that?”

  Bekka shrugged.

  “You do use it for more than just your family’s business, don’t you?”

  She gave Katrina a sheepish smile. “Let’s just say it’s my window to the world.”

  “But you shouldn’t be doing—”

  “My parents don’t care . . . At least they don’t care until I get baptized. Then they’ll expect more of me.” Bekka turned the monitor back on. “Right now they don’t mind as long as I get my work done. And I always get my work done.”

  The darkened screen slowly came to life, exposing a colorful image of funny little figures that suddenly started moving about.

  “That doesn’t look like work to me,” Katrina pointed out.

  Bekka laughed. “That’s a game, silly.”

  “Oh.”

  “Let’s google Willow Tree and—”

  “Google?” Katrina was confused.

  “It’s a way to look things up,” Bekka explained as she tapped some keys and clicked on some things so quickly that Katrina couldn’t even follow it. “There,” she said, pointing to a photo that looked similar to the record cover. “Willow Tree . . . folk trio . . . Willy Brown, Laurence Zimmerman, and the sweet vocals of Starla Knight—”