by Jan Drexler
“Remember him?” Casper shook his head. “You never forget family. No matter how long it’s been since you’ve seen them. Uncle Casper’s place in the family has been empty for years, but now we have an answer.”
“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” Abraham said, his smile as wide as Casper’s. He called into the house for the women to join them.
Once Rosina heard the story, she walked over to Aaron and pulled on his shoulder until she could reach his cheek. She kissed it softly. “Welcome to the family, Aaron.”
“Almost like the Prodigal Son,” Dan said, shaking Aaron’s hand.
It was too much. Aaron reached up to wipe away the tingle that Rosina’s kiss had left, but she stopped him.
“That’s a mother’s kiss, young man. And a mother’s kiss lasts forever.”
He heard an echo in his memory. Ma, happy to see him and pleased with the results of his first hunting trip with Pa. She had taken his face between her palms and kissed him on the cheek. He felt too grown up for that and wiped it away with his hand.
But Ma had laughed. “A mama’s kiss lasts forever. No wiping or washing will ever make it disappear.”
She had been right. He could still feel that kiss. He grinned at Rosina, and then at Dan. He didn’t know what to say. But he knew—knew in his heart—that Casper must be right. All the pieces fit. This was the family Grandpop had left behind so long ago.
Then Ephraim hugged him, laughing. “Look at you! You’d think you never had a family before.”
Aaron returned Ephraim’s hug, then hugged Tobias before Casper wrapped his arms around him in a tight, strong grip and held him, as if to make up for all the lost years.
Ephraim was right. He had never had a family like this before.
9
“Did you hear the news?” Katie asked.
It was Tuesday morning and Elizabeth was ironing the dresses they had washed and dried the day before while Katie folded the rest of the laundry.
“Only that the ministers’ meeting has started. Several of the men from our district have gone up to Wayne County this week.”
“Not that. The news about Aaron and the Zooks.”
Elizabeth shook her head in reply, concentrating on ironing out a stubborn wrinkle.
“It turns out that Aaron is a long-lost cousin of theirs.”
Giving up on the wrinkle, Elizabeth placed the iron back on the stove to heat again. Katie was quick to share every rumor she heard, especially if it sounded like good news.
She smiled at Katie’s earnest face. “How can they know if they are related or not? Are you certain this isn’t just more gossip?”
“I heard it straight from Jonas, and he heard the story from his father. You know Abraham wouldn’t spread any news unless he is sure it’s true.” Katie pulled the basket of dish towels closer. “Jonas said Aaron’s grandfather was the brother of Dan and Ephraim’s grandfather. Aaron’s grandfather left home when he was still a boy, and the family never heard from him again.”
Elizabeth picked up the second iron and tested it. Just right. She tackled the wrinkle again. “And they think Aaron’s grandfather is that boy? How do they know the two were brothers?”
“That’s what is so wonderful about this whole story. Dan and Ephraim’s grandfather named his son after his brother who had run away, and Aaron’s grandfather named his son after his brother too. The family names are what told them that Aaron belonged to them.”
Elizabeth put the iron back on the stove and adjusted the skirt so the next wrinkled section was ready to work on. Aaron was a difficult person to learn to know, but she had seen the wistful expression in his eyes when he spoke of his mother, as if he missed having a family in spite of acting like he didn’t need anyone. What did he think about the idea of belonging to the Weaver’s Creek Zooks?
A knock on the front door interrupted her thoughts. Katie went to answer it, and Elizabeth heard her talking to someone. She moved the coffeepot to the front of the stove to prepare for their visitor, but Katie came back into the kitchen alone, carrying an envelope.
“It was Mr. Stevenson, from the sawmill. He had been to Farmerstown and he said Mrs. Lawrence asked him to deliver this letter for you. It had been waiting at the post office for a few weeks, waiting for someone from Weaver’s Creek to fetch the mail. He said it looked important.”
Elizabeth took the envelope and sat in a chair at the table. It was larger than any envelope she had ever seen and had official-looking printing on it.
“Hoben, Williamson, and Turner. Attorneys at Law. Vicksburg, Mississippi,” she read aloud, then looked at Katie. “What could it be? Why would a lawyer contact me?”
Katie sat across the table from her. “You won’t know until you open it.” Her eyes glowed with excitement. “Maybe it has something to do with Reuben. Wasn’t he in Vicksburg when he passed away?”
Elizabeth turned the envelope over and smoothed the sealed flap. Katie was right. It might have something to do with Reuben, or the new wife he had married during the war, or the son they had had together. Touching the letter brought life to her memories. Unwelcome life. What would opening it bring?
“Don’t you want to know what it says?” Katie drummed her fingers on the table. “It might be good news.”
“It could also be bad.”
“You won’t know until you open it.”
Katie handed her a knife and Elizabeth slit the envelope. She took out the letter and unfolded it. The script was large and bold, and at the bottom was a notary’s seal embellished with gold.
“It looks official.” Elizabeth tried to make out the Englisch words, but the writing was too different from the German script she was familiar with.
“What does it say?”
“I’ll have to find someone who can read it. Perhaps Datt can.”
“Abraham went to the meeting with the rest of the men.” The coffeepot started boiling and Katie rose to pour two cups. “Do you think Aaron could read it?”
“I’m not sure.” Elizabeth recognized her own name but couldn’t make out the rest of the writing. “Solomon could. He seems to have more experience with Englischers. He could read it and also tell me what it means.”
Katie grinned. “Are you sure you aren’t just making an excuse to see him again?”
Her face heating, Elizabeth folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. “Of course not. I just think he might be the best person to ask. I can’t wait too long, either. That gold seal means that the letter is important.”
The letter’s weight pulled at Elizabeth’s mind as she finished the ironing, fixed a small lunch for the two of them, and cleaned up the kitchen. What could it say? Letters like this one changed folks’ lives.
Reuben had received one several years ago, soon after they were married, and had taken it to a lawyer in Millersburg. The lawyer said Reuben had inherited some money from his father in Philadelphia.
Elizabeth gave the kitchen shelf a final wipe with the dish towel before rinsing it in the last of the rinse water and hanging it up to dry.
That money had been enough to pay the mortgage and then some, Reuben had said. She never found out what happened to the rest of it, but that letter changed Reuben . . . for a time. He was kinder and easier to live with until the following winter when the money was all gone. Then he had blamed her for spending it, or hiding it, but Elizabeth suspected he had lost it at the gambling house he frequented.
She stopped, tapping pursed lips with her finger as she considered. Should she go to a lawyer in Millersburg first like Reuben had? If Datt was home, he would advise her. But all the men had gone to the ministers’ meeting, except a few. Solomon was the only Amish man she could think of to ask.
Was it proper for her to call on Solomon alone? Katie had gone to Lena’s after lunch to help the Stuckey women prepare for Margaret’s upcoming wedding, and Mamm had gone to Wayne County with Datt. Ruby wouldn’t be able to go with her in the afternoon during the children’s nap
time. She could go by herself. It wouldn’t hurt anything. And she wouldn’t be alone with Solomon, not with Dulcey there.
The sun wasn’t far past its noon zenith when Elizabeth had hitched up and was on her way. The letter crinkled from its spot in her waistband, reminding her of the importance of this errand. All was quiet in the farmyards she passed, and she kept Pie at a trot until they started rising out of the valley. She slowed him to a walk until they crested the top of the hill.
She watched Solomon’s house grow out of the surrounding fields as she approached. Pie shook his head and she loosened her tight grip on the reins. He had sensed her sudden misgivings.
“You can trust Solomon,” she told herself. Pie’s ears swiveled to listen to her voice. “He has always been kind to you. Besides, Dulcey is there. You won’t be alone with him.”
The red brick house seemed taller than before, leaning toward her as if it were a cat welcoming a mouse to dinner. She shook her head, clearing her vision. It was just a house. There was nothing for her to fear.
She tied Pie to the hitching rail and walked up the wide porch steps. She lifted the iron knocker on the door and let it fall with a sharp tap. After a moment, Dulcey answered the door.
“Hello, Dulcey.” Elizabeth smiled in a way that she hoped would let the young woman know she wanted to be friends. “Is Solomon at home? I need to speak to him about something.”
Dulcey didn’t meet her gaze but backed away to let Elizabeth into the hall.
“Masta Solomon, he’s in the study. I’ll fetch him straightaway.”
Dulcey knocked softly on a door that led from the hall, then pushed the door aside and slipped into the room. Elizabeth looked around at the tall seat with hooks for hats and capes, the table with a vase of flowers on it, and the narrow carpet in the center of the floor. She wondered when Solomon would dispose of Abel Patterson’s fancy furnishings to make the house more comfortable. She missed the simple lines of her parents’ home.
Muffled voices came from the room Dulcey had called the study, then the doors slid open and Solomon walked through, a smile on his face.
“Welcome, Elizabeth. This is a surprise.”
Elizabeth pulled the letter from the envelope and handed it to him. “I received this letter today but had trouble making out what it says. I hoped you could help me.”
Solomon glanced at the letter, then at her. “Why don’t we go into the front room to discuss this.” He gestured for her to lead the way.
Elizabeth went into the dim sitting room. The shades were drawn against the bright afternoon light, and the room was crowded with furniture. She sat on a chair with a horsehair seat and waited for Solomon to read the letter all the way through.
His expression changed from interest to a frown, then he looked at her again.
“This letter says there is a woman in Mississippi who is claiming ownership of your land.”
“You mean my husband’s land.”
“This letter says that Reuben Kaufman is the husband of Melanie Kaufman. This law firm is making inquiries on behalf of Mrs. Kaufman and her young son.” He laid the letter on the table next to Elizabeth’s chair and looked at her, his eyes narrowing. “I had understood that you are the widow of Reuben Kaufman, but this letter claims that you were his sister. What is the truth, Elizabeth?”
A familiar sense of helplessness washed over Elizabeth. It was as if Reuben were alive, accusing her of her sins from across time and space. She swallowed, then took a deep breath. He is dead. He is dead. He can no longer harm me.
Elizabeth stood, reaching out to him as if her touch could convince him of the truth. “My husband betrayed me by marrying this other woman while we were still married. But I am Reuben’s widow. He must have never told this woman in Mississippi that he was married to me, and she assumed I was his sister.”
Solomon turned his back on her and stared out the window that was obscured with lace curtains. His rigid back told her everything she needed to know. He didn’t believe her.
Solomon straightened his shoulders, aware that the woman behind him was scrutinizing every movement. Had she lied to him? If she had, then the entire community had agreed with the story.
His mind tried to tie the evidence together with this new information, but it didn’t make sense. According to the county land records, the land was owned by Reuben Kaufman’s widow Elizabeth. Elizabeth was the daughter of Abraham Weaver. It was the first step in his quest to gain control of the valley.
But now there was another claimant.
Solomon clenched his fist. Another silly woman thinking she could claim his land. The answer was clear. He needed to confirm that Elizabeth’s ownership of the land was secure and immovable.
“This other claimant.” He turned back to the woman standing in the center of his sitting room. “Were you aware of her?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Someone came to the farm with the news of Reuben’s death. He had assumed I was Reuben’s sister since Reuben had married this other woman in Mississippi.” Her face grew pink and she rubbed the end of her nose in a gesture that reminded him of a young child. “I didn’t correct him. I was—” Her cheeks flamed red. “I was only relieved to hear that Reuben wouldn’t be coming home.”
Solomon read through the letter again. “It will be simple enough to clear this up. We will send a copy of your marriage certificate to this lawyer, and this woman’s claim will be worthless.”
“I don’t have a marriage certificate.”
“You must. When you get home, look among your things.”
She shook her head. “I don’t have any papers.”
Was she lying again? Or was she just stupid?
“You have the deed to the farm, don’t you?”
She shook her head again. “My husband didn’t tell me anything about his business, and I never found any papers. No deed, no marriage certificate. Nothing.”
Solomon threaded his fingers together. Shaking her senseless as he longed to do wouldn’t achieve anything. “Then we will look for them. You will search your cabin, and I will pay a visit to the county courthouse in Millersburg. You must establish your ownership of that property or all our plans will be ruined.”
Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip. “What plans?”
He smiled in the way that he had learned disarmed people and gave him what he wanted. He took both of her hands in his.
“Our marriage. Our future. Our family’s future. Uniting our properties will help us provide for generations to come.”
She blushed, her eyes turned down and a smile on her lips. His smile stretched wider. He had found her weak spot. A family. Children and grandchildren. He could ask anything of her now.
Taking a step closer, he released one hand and lifted her chin with his finger. “You know I lost my dear Anna in childbirth along with our child. I look forward to being blessed with a house full of children.”
“I had heard that you still grieve for her, and I can . . . imagine the pain of losing your child, also. Reuben and I were . . . we never had . . . children.”
Her voice caught, betraying her emotion, and the thrill of easy prey coursed through him as her eyes glistened. Unrequited longing. Her hopeful expression fed his instincts.
He licked his lips. “But first, before we can move forward with our plans, we need to establish that you are the rightful owner of your farm.”
“Reuben’s farm.”
Her soft voice barely registered in his hearing. He chose to ignore it.
Solomon took her shoulders and steered her toward the door. “You go and search the cabin. Men hide important papers in strange places sometimes. Perhaps he hid them under a stone in the fireplace or in the loft. Check everywhere they could be hidden.”
“I will.” She turned to look at him. “What will happen if we don’t find them?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything.” He pushed her into the front hall. “You just look in the cabin.”
She
frowned, making her even prettier. “What should I do if I find them?”
He patted her back. “Bring them to me. I’ll take care of everything. But don’t say anything to anyone else. This lawyer may have an agent working here, and we don’t want them to learn information that would put us at a disadvantage.”
Her frown softened into a puzzled look. Pretty and naive enough to trust him. His favorite type of woman. “You can rely on me, Elizabeth. I have experience with these matters and I only have your best interests at heart.”
She gave him a nod as he prodded her closer to the door that Dulcey held open for her.
Elizabeth grasped Dulcey’s free hand and spoke in Englisch. “Thank you, Dulcey. I look forward to visiting with you sometime. I would like to learn to know you better.”
Dulcey didn’t answer but closed the door as Elizabeth walked out to her cart.
“What was that all about?” He glared at Dulcey.
The skinny girl backed against the door, still holding the knob with one hand. She shook her head.
Suspicion left a metallic taste in his mouth, feeding his need for release.
“Have you talked with her before?”
Dulcey shook her head, her eyes tight. “No, Masta, not once. I don’t know why she spoke to me like that.”
Solomon reached for the buggy whip he kept in the umbrella stand next to the door. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, strong and steady. He could already see the welts the whip would bring on Dulcey’s bare legs. Red stripes, each one crossing the other until the blood flowed freely in rivulets against the dark skin.
“You must have encouraged her. Smiled at her?”
He stepped closer and Dulcey’s knees buckled, casting her prostrate on the floor in front of him.
“I swear, not once. I don’t never look at her.”
Solomon reached down to lift her skirt above her knees, exposing the evidence of previous days and weeks of satisfying his lust for blood on her. Then a thought crossed his mind and the whip dropped from his hand, forgotten. Elizabeth’s interest in talking to Dulcey could be used to his advantage. He grabbed the slightly built girl’s arm and lifted her to her feet.
