by Karen Harper
Sweetheart Sol,
Let’s meet out past the pond again after dark! Ah, the forbidden seems so sweet. The entire earth comes alive when we’re together. You help to heal me, and I don’t feel so alone anymore. Forbidden love but wonderful love!
Your Bessie
Lydia gaped at the worn paper, the faded words. Bessie? Bess Keller Stark? Sure, there were other Bessies around here, even a couple of Amish girls she could think of. And if Victoria Keller was known as Vicky by her family, couldn’t Elizabeth, or Bess, have been called Bessie? Or if Daad and this woman had an affair, maybe it was his pet name for her. This note sure must have meant a lot to him since he’d dared to keep it a long time, for the paper was old and worn—it looked as if it had been often handled. Did it mean he’d been untrue to Mamm or was it before they were wed? And when was it written?
Lydia’s heart was pounding so hard she could hear it echo in her ears. Surely, Amish Solomon Brand and Englische Bessie Stark had not been sweethearts, even though they’d grown up as neighbors. Well, Amish/Englische happened, of course, the forbidden part noted here by “Bessie.” What this could mean staggered her.
Despite his recent heart attack, Lydia had to make Daad tell her the truth tonight. If he refused, she’d insist she was going to ask Bess if she’d ever heard anything about the tragic buggy-car accident that took David and Lena Brand’s life. If Bess was at all involved, he would tell her the truth instead of letting Lydia face down Bess. Daad had always been funny—touchy—about Bess Keller Stark.
* * *
It was late afternoon when Lydia got home—she’d promised she would not drive anywhere after dark—and she was relieved that Mamm had gone to bed early. Better yet, Daad was in his quilting room so there was no way Mamm could wander downstairs and overhear them. Best, Daad had said, “Give me a couple of minutes, then come in to talk. And keep your eyes closed because your Christmas quilt is almost done.”
He had somehow sensed she needed to talk—or else he did, she thought as she hurried upstairs, used the bathroom and washed up. Gid had been too busy with the Christmas rush to corner her today, which was just as well. She wasn’t sure how good she was at keeping secrets, pretending things were going well when they were in such a mess. Besides, it would have been hard not to try to get him to admit irregularities in the big accounts, and then she’d ruin what must be Daad’s undercover investigation. Maybe that’s why he had said nothing to her about it before.
Although Lydia had been tempted to bring the page with Daad’s embezzlement findings home with her, she had put it carefully back. As for the note from Bessie, perhaps she’d never find the courage to tell Daad she knew he’d kept it all these years—unless he still refused to talk about her birth parents. And, of course, to bring it up with Daad, she’d have to admit she’d seen his information on Gid’s possible embezzling. But she had brought the love note with her.
She tiptoed to her parents’ room and put her ear to the door. Mamm used to take long afternoon naps when she was using those pills. But with worrying about Daad—and, ya, about her daughter, she’d looked especially tired lately. Then, too, maybe her insomnia had set in again to tire her out.
Lydia went downstairs and, finding the side parlor door ajar, knocked once and went in. Daad had rolled the quilt almost closed on its frame, but she saw one of the four hems was not sewn yet.
“I don’t want you to work too hard,” she said, “even on that.”
“It’s not work that will do me in someday, Liddy. Here, sit down,” he said, indicating the chair he’d been using, then pulling around the other one from the far side of the quilt for himself.
“Of course, you want to know how things went at the store today.”
“If things are all right, save that until later. I need to tell you about your mother.”
She gasped. Had he read her mind? Guessed her torment somehow? But no—no. He must mean Mamm.
“Is she all right?”
“I learned from the fact I’ve been counting her sleeping pills that she’s back on them again. Liddy, I’ve kept this from you, but she sleepwalks at night and sometimes during the day, just like Dr. Bryan warned us about.”
“Have you stayed up at night to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself, like on the stairs?”
“Ya, but not since I’ve been back from the hospital, because I thought she was off the pills. Before that, I stayed up at night, even tied her wrist to mine so I knew when she got up. Sometimes she just went to the bathroom, but other times...” He shrugged. “And she recalls nothing of what she does at night, but she’s sure-footed. I’m not afraid she’ll fall. She takes the stairs, moves around the house, even cleaning things sometimes. Twice she made bread. I just slept nearby, so exhausted. But even asleep, she seemed to know what she was doing.”
“So we have to get her off the pills again. You can’t be worrying about her, following her. You need sleep to recover. We’ll get her help, get her off those for good.”
“It’s just I’m at my wit’s end with her again. I don’t mean to use you instead of Bishop Esh, kind of like a marriage counselor. But the doctor will have a fit if he sees I’m stressed out.”
Lydia felt doubly deflated. Mamm was a problem, her parents’ marriage was as good as dead, and now did she ever dare to bring up what she’d seen at Bess’s today and found hidden in his desk drawer? But wasn’t the Lord giving her these clues so that she could confront him? Or was this new problem with Mamm to show her she should hold her peace again, or maybe even ask Bess if she knew Daad well years ago, instead of upsetting him even more? She could mention to Bess that her real mother had collected snow globes, so did she know any Amish girl around here who did that?
But then she could lose Bess’s friendship and support. Strange how much it meant to her. Over the years, Lydia’s heart had swelled with joy, even excitement, when Bess was near. And would a woman who had set her sights so high and was planning a campaign to reach the stars ever admit she had an illegitimate Amish daughter?
“Liddy? Are you all right?” Daad’s voice sliced through her agonizing.
“Just upset about Mamm.”
He took her hands in his. She was shaken to see tears in his eyes.
“Daad, I’ll help you watch her at night. Can’t we put a bell on your bedroom door? Maybe the bathroom doorknob, too? If she’s in a sleep-awake state when she gets up, she wouldn’t notice the bell, would she? In the morning, we’ll insist she must get off the pills and go back to her doctor for another kind of medicine tomorrow. I can go with her.”
“And one more important thing. I want you to know I’m not promoting Gid as a husband for you anymore. It just seemed so perfect, so right at first. There are others who can run the store after I’m gone. Just wanted you to know,” he repeated.
Touched, she nodded. Daad’s hands were shaking. Dear Lord, she prayed, don’t let him have another heart attack. And help me to help him and Mamm, but to somehow get the answers I need without hurting them. After all, she thought with a twinge of anger, she’d asked Daad before about her birth parents and he’d put her off and turned her down, just like Bishop Esh had. Even if she did ask Daad again, he still might refuse to tell her. Maybe asking Bess, as pushy and scary as that seemed, was the best way now.
Just before dinner, Mamm appeared, seeming in a calm and kindly mood. So was Daad reading this all wrong?
* * *
That night, Lydia rigged bells on the outside knobs of the bedroom and bathroom doors, then left her own door open so she could hear better. She also hid Mamm’s pills under her own pillow. But if Mamm didn’t open the doors quick, like she always did, maybe the bells wouldn’t sound at all. No matter what happened, tomorrow she would use the phone in the shanty way down the road and make Mamm a doctor’s appointment. Things had to get better.
Then, as soon as possible, she’d ask Bess her big question. But Bess had so easily talked her way out of her lie about not speaking to Sandra. So wo
uld Bess even tell the truth, especially if it meant admitting to any kind of deceit or scandal? She was obviously really clever at bending questions her way. As kind as Bess had been, she’d protect herself from anything or maybe anyone who stood in the way of her ambitions, Lydia thought. Did she really know Bess Stark at all?
* * *
Lydia jerked awake. Had she heard a bell? She’d been in and out of light sleep, keeping her ear tuned to any sounds. She looked at the beside clock. Almost 4:00 a.m.
She got up and peered out in the grayish hall. The bathroom door was closed. Had Mamm or Daad gone in there? She’d wait just inside her bedroom door to see who came out.
She kept silent when Daad padded barefooted toward their bedroom. Strangely, she had the urge to stop him, to demand to know if Bess Stark could possibly be her birth mother. But would the next assumption be that Daad was her real father? The instinctive love she’d felt for them both over the years pointed to that, didn’t it? Yet, how wrong of them to keep that from her, how cruel. It would be terrible for Mamm to know that—or did she? What if she’d been forced to take in her husband’s love child? Maybe she had no idea. Or if she did, was that the cause of the problem between her parents? And Bess...she must not want her past to get in the way of her rise to power. Just give your flesh-and-blood only daughter a half hug now and then and go on your merry way. And Connor—did he know? Did he hate her for that, too?
Back in bed, Lydia tossed and turned. She loved Josh, wanted Josh. Was that how it was for Sol and Bessie?
Love...love...
Lydia sat bolt upright. Someone was in her room, a woman in white. For one half-waking, wild moment, she thought it could be Sandra’s ghost, but she didn’t believe in that.
No, it was Mamm.
Gooseflesh iced Lydia’s skin as Mamm said in a whisper, “I have to find Sammy. I have to keep him safe.”
When Lydia tried to speak at first, she had no voice. She cleared her throat. “Mamm, Sammy’s not here, and you have to go back to bed.”
Though her face was in darkness, Mamm turned and looked at her. She wore not only her long-sleeved, floor-length, white flannel nightgown but a white prayer kapp, which made her look as if a halo hovered over her head. Her feet were bare. Her long hair was down, not even plaited in a big braid but wild around her face and shoulders.
Lydia got out of bed, went to her. If she was looking for Sammy, so long drowned in the pond, was she lost in a dream or nightmare? She turned her head toward Lydia but did not respond to what she’d said. Now she ordered, “Don’t try to stop me. I have to find him fast.”
To Lydia’s amazement, Mamm shoved her back onto her bed with such strength that she bounced. Mamm rushed from the room, and Lydia heard her bare feet on the stairs.
Lydia scrambled up again. Should she wake her father? No, she didn’t want to alarm him. She could handle this herself, get Mamm to bed in the guest room or the sofa and sit with her until she went to sleep.
Barefooted, in her nightgown, Lydia followed her downstairs. How could Mamm be so quick when she usually moved much slower?
Downstairs, Lydia’s panic increased. Where had she gone?
She heard the back door open, then close.
Dear Lord, was her mother going outside in that state? And surely not to the pond!
Lydia rushed through the kitchen to the back door. She saw Mamm had pulled on a coat and was walking out through the white blankness of the snow, heading in the direction of the pond. The ice must be frozen pretty thick, but who knew if she could break through it? More than once Josh’s father’s cows had gone through in the winter when the Brands used to own the pond.
Lydia jammed her feet in boots, not fastening them. The first coat on the rack was Daad’s. She yanked it on and ran outside. And here she had promised herself, Daad and Josh she’d not be out alone after dark. What if Leo Lowe or the intruder or—
She should have shouted for Daad, but she didn’t want him out here in this cold. Not taking time to fasten her boots—she realized too late they were Daad’s and too large for her feet—she clomped along at a shuffling run through the snow. Starlight and moonlight helped a bit, but how could she be so far behind? And, ya, it sure did look like Mamm was heading for the pond.
“Mamm!” she shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth as she ran. Her voice seemed so small under the vast, dark sky. She fell once, scrambled to her feet again. “Stop, Mamm! Wait for me, and I’ll help you find Sammy. It’s Lydia! Wait up!”
As she crossed behind the woodlot, Lydia could see a light was on in Josh’s barn. Was he still sleeping there to keep the animals secure? Could one of them be sick? And would he hear her if she called for him?
“Mamm! Mamm, stop!” she cried, trying to ignore the frigid air that bit deep into her lungs. Her nose was going numb. Her head hurt, and her eyes watered, blurring her vision. Some of the snow she was wading through kicked up her bare legs.
Out of breath—did those pills give someone strength as well as mess up their mind?—Lydia passed the back line of Josh’s land and past the gate Victoria Keller had gone through and perhaps hit her head on. What if Mamm slipped on the ice and hurt herself? Lydia recalled there had been three pairs of boots in the back hall, so was Mamm barefoot? And was this confusion just caused by the pills, or had she finally been broken by her guilt and grief over Sammy’s death?
Lydia peered ahead and saw that Mamm had taken something, maybe a rock or tree limb, and was pounding on the ice a few feet from the shore. The pond was deep, almost no shallow edges. At least she’d get to Mamm now.
Shrill cries of “Sammy, Sammy, I’m breaking the ice so you can get out!” shredded the night air. “Come back up! I’m here, I’m here!”
To Lydia’s horror, she recalled those last few words were the exact ones Mamm had said over and over the day Sammy died, when she wouldn’t leave the pond, not even when the volunteer rescue squad came, not until Daad lifted her in his arms and carried her home. And those were the same words she had whispered at Sammy’s funeral when the elders shoveled soil into the grave, and it thudded upon the lid of the small coffin.
Lydia had almost reached her when Mamm stood and lunged out on the ice she’d broken through. Except for that black hole, the coating of snow made it hard to see where the ground ended and the pond began. Mamm went into the water, thrashing, screaming. Maybe it had shocked her from her trance.
On the edge of the pond, Lydia got down on her stomach and started to reach for her, but the broken ice cracked farther, opening a bigger, jagged hole. Lydia’s right arm and leg went in before she could claw her way back to the bank. Frigid water instantly soaked her coat and nightgown. Her boot was gone. Her hand and foot went numb.
As she clambered to safety, she saw Mamm had used a rock to break the ice. She had to get something long to hold out to her, pull her to solid ground. Maybe a tree branch.
“Sammy! Sammy,” Mamm was screaming, but she kept going under.
“Josh! Josh, help me! Help meeeee!” Lydia shouted toward the barn, praying the dim light within meant he was there. But even if he heard her, maybe he couldn’t get here in time, just like when Sammy drowned.
Lydia lay belly down with her hips in the snow and her upper torso stretched across the jagged ice and choppy, frigid water. Again and again she reached in vain for Mamm, who kept flailing, gasping, going under.
26
Lydia heard a deep voice cutting through Mamm’s shrieks and her own desperate cries for help. A man’s voice. Was he calling for Lydia or Liddy? Even if it was Daad, with him so ill, she needed help.
“Lydia? Lydia, you out here?”
Josh, distant, but his voice sounded so good.
If she stood so he could see her, would Mamm slip under the ice? “Here,” she screamed. “Mamm’s in the pond. Help meeee!”
But there was no reply. It seemed endless days dragged by. She kept grasping for Mamm, feeling the ice beneath her breaking. Had she imagined his voice,
his love?
Then he was there, panting, throwing himself flat beside her. “Get back. Lydia, get away, too much weight!” He grabbed a handful of her coat and slid her off the ice.
Scrambling to her knees, leaning forward, she gripped her cold hands together and blinked back tears. In one hand, Josh held a horse’s rein that he’d made into a big noose. Sweating but shaking, Lydia watched him try to lasso Mamm with the rein, once, twice, again.
The leather loop snagged Mamm under one armpit, around the side of her neck and her flailing wrist. He yanked it tighter, but Mamm seemed to fight, not help. She no longer cried Sammy’s name but she seemed insane to struggle so.
“I may choke her,” Josh cried, “but I’ve got to get her out.” He stood, moved a few steps back and pulled, dragging the thrashing woman closer.
Lydia reached for Mamm’s arm, helped to pull. Finally, she stopped struggling. Together, they dragged her out sopping wet on her belly. Lydia carefully rolled her over, face up, while Josh loosened the strap, then pulled it from her.
Daad suddenly appeared, wrapped in a quilt, wearing untied shoes on his feet, shuffling through the snow. He fell to his knees beside Mamm, wrapped her in the quilt and pulled her to him, lifting her head and shoulders against his thighs.
“Thank God for you, Josh,” Daad said, tears streaming down his face. “But—she’s out—not breathing.”
Mamm’s mouth gaped open. Josh lifted her eyelid; her eyes were rolled back. Lydia sucked in a sob. Josh put his ear to Mamm’s lips and shook his head. He pulled her gently away from Daad, flat on the ground. Lydia watched in fear as he gave Mamm three of his own breaths, mouth-to-mouth. Then, stiff-armed with his hands linked flat on her chest, Daad hovering close, Josh began to press, then release his weight on the unmoving woman. Lydia couldn’t recall the name for that procedure but she knew the world’s ways were sometimes a blessing.
“Lydia—I—may—have—you run to Starks’ for a phone—the rescue squad,” Josh said in rhythm to his movements. “But late at night—volunteers—it may take a while—for them—to come.”
