Free A Hidden Truth by Judith Miller

Marta’s brows knit together in a frown. “I take care of it every day. Why would today be any different?”
    Cousin Louise patted her friend’s arm. “And you do a wonderful job. I don’t know what I would do without your help.”
    The compliment was like a soothing balm and immediately erased the frown from Sister Marta’s face. It hadn’t taken long for me to see that Cousin Louise knew how to manage every woman in her kitchen. Some needed compliments, some needed to share their problems, and others enjoyed laughter. Whatever the need, Cousin Louise adapted and helped. And today I planned to seek her help. I hoped to use our time together to gain some answers about my mother.
    On several occasions I’d broached the subject, but Cousin Louise’s answers had always been guarded—at least they’d seemed that way to me. Each time I attempted to dig deeper into the past, she changed the subject or sent me to the other side of the kitchen to help cut noodles or peel potatoes. But on our way to and from the store, we would have uninterrupted time together, and I planned to use that time to full advantage.
    We’d gone only a few steps beyond the porch when I asked my first question. I didn’t want to waste precious time. “Tell me about my mother, Cousin Louise. I want to know what she was like when she lived here, and why her family left.”
    Pulling her hood tight around her head, she glanced in my direction. “I know you miss your Mutter, but digging into her past will not bring her back. I am sure she told you everything she thought was important for you to know. She loved you very much.”
    â€œHow do you know that?”
    She tsk ed and shook her head. “Because mothers love their children and because she wrote to me after you were born. She was delighted to have a daughter of her own.”
    â€œAnd my father? Did she write about him, too?”
    Cousin Louise hesitated. “Not so much. But you must remember that I did not know your Vater.”
    She hadn’t known me, either, but I didn’t want to say that or it might stop her from telling me more. “What else did she tell you?”
    â€œAt first she wrote about her move to Covington, Kentucky, with your Oma and Opa , and then later about getting married and moving across the river to Zinzinatti.”
    I smiled at her pronunciation. “Did she say she liked it there?”
    Cousin Louise’s hard-soled shoes clacked on the board sidewalk. “I don’t think she ever felt as at home as she did in the colonies, but she was happy your Vater agreed to live in that place she called Over-the-Rhine. In one of her letters she said there were many German immigrants. That pleased her, I think.”
    â€œMaybe it pleased her a little, but I don’t think she was ever completely happy. There were many days when I couldn’t convince her to leave the house. Most of the time, she appeared melancholy, but she wouldn’t tell me why. Vater said it was because she never was very healthy, but I think she may have regretted marrying my father and having me.”
    â€œNein.” She stopped and turned to me. “You should never think such a thing. Your Mutter loved you, and your birth gave her great joy. I am sure you miss her very much.” She patted my arm with her gloved hand. “I can tell you that your Vater was right about your Mutter’s health. She was a sickly girl and she always tired easily.” Bowing her head against the cold breeze, she strode toward the store with a determined step.
    Our conversation had ended, and I didn’t know any more than when we’d walked out of the Küche. How would I ever learn about my mother’s past if Cousin Louise refused to talk to me?

CHAPTER 8
    Karlina
    Over the past weeks, Anton had settled into our home, but I still hadn’t detected any signs that he enjoyed working with the sheep. I