Free Love Finds You in Amana Iowa by Melanie Dobson Page B

He would have to leave under the cloak of darkness to avoid the questions, before even the baker began making bread for the day.
    He dipped his pen into the inkwell again and words began to flow from within him. He told Amalie that his heart was hers, but he couldn’t respect himself nor could he ever expect her to respect him if he didn’t fight for those who were enslaved. He told her about Joseph and the scars on the man’s arms. And he wrote about the wrenching in his heart, the powerful pull to fight for the wounded like David had written in the book of Psalms.
    Deliver the poor and needy: rid them out of the hand of the wicked.
    But even as he scribbled his thoughts onto paper, the words seemed hollow. No amount of words nor the structure of them could make her understand why he had to join the Union forces. Amalie believed the shedding of blood was wrong, for any reason, and like Matthias, she probably believed God would right the wrong of slavery through a peaceful resolution. Only those who chose not to wait on God were drawn into the fight. Or at least, that was what she and Matthias and his family thought.
    With a loud sigh, he leaned back in his chair and reached for a yellowed envelope he kept at the edge of his desk. Opening it, he slid out the lock of hair Amalie cut for him in secret before he left Ebenezer, hours after he asked her to marry him when she moved to Amana. He rubbed her hair gently between his fingers. He had no likeness of her on paper, but even after three years, he could still envision the sculpting of her beautiful face in his mind, the vibrancy and strength in her eyes. He longed to see her face again, touch her skin, but he couldn’t let his desires thwart his determination to do what he believed to be right.
    Amalie Wiese was strong. She would be able to weather this season without him, like she’d done the past three years, and with God’s help, he would be able to weather it as well.
    He tucked the envelope with the lock of her hair into his pocket, and then he picked his pen back up and asked Amalie to wait longer for him. When the war was over, he wanted to marry her. He wrote about their future together, about their children, and as he wrote, he dreamed about the many years ahead that they would spend as man and wife.
    But in case something happened, in case he didn’t return in the next year or two like he planned, he wrote that he wanted her to live a life of dedication in the Amanas without him. And a life with love. He didn’t want her to be alone.
    After he sealed the letter with glue, he wrote her name on the back and then he wrote a letter to Matthias and one to his parents and placed them beside the one to Amalie.
    When the clock chimed four times, he blew out the candle. Ashes sprinkled over his hand as he brushed them into the stove. He strung his burlap bag over his shoulder, packed with a blanket, a change of clothes to wear until he received his uniform, the Gospel of John, and his coat.
    Leaning down, he kissed Amalie’s letter one last time. Then he placed his straw hat on his head and walked out the door.
    * * * * *
    Matthias Roemig tossed on his pillow, trying to force himself to sleep a few more minutes before the morning bells rang. His mind wouldn’t let him rest. It skipped across the bits of conversation he had with Friedrich yesterday. The questions Friedrich had about fighting in the war.
    The pull for Friedrich to fight was strong; he could hear it in his friend’s voice and see it in his face. The passion that burned in Friedrich often challenged Matthias, and sometimes even changed his perspective, but this time it was his turn to influence Friedrich and make him understand that this war wasn’t his burden to carry. Their responsibility was to help build their community and pray that the war, along with slavery, would end soon.
    Kneeling beside his bed, Matthias prayed for God’s blessing on his day, and he prayed that God would work in