She sniffed and swiped at the tears coursing down her cheeks. “I was confused and afraid I wouldn’t be able to support Anna. I was afraid my folks wouldn’t understand or accept me back if I had a child.”
“And your daughter’s been living in Cincinnati all this time?”
Grace shook her head. “Wade’s folks lived in Michigan at the time, and soon after they took Anna, I changed my mind about letting them have her. I wanted to take my little girl and go home, hoping my folks would accept me back and help raise her.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I tried to contact Wade’s folks, but their phone had been disconnected. The letters I wrote came back with a stamp that said they’d moved and there was no forwarding address.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I moved back home but was too ashamed and too frightened of my family’s reaction to admit what I’d done, so I kept the secret from everyone.”
He gave a quick nod. “Including me—the man you’re supposed to love and trust.”
“I was afraid if I told you the truth you wouldn’t understand and might not marry me.”
“I thought our relationship was built on trust.” He stared at the floor, slowly shaking his head. “I was sure wrong about that.”
“I’m sorry, Cleon. I never meant to lie to you, but—”
He lifted his gaze and leveled her with an icy stare. “But you didn’t love me enough to be honest with me? Isn’t that what you’re saying?”
“No. I do love you, and after Gary showed up in town, it made me rethink my decision to keep my previous marriage and daughter a secret.” She choked on a sob. “I was planning to tell you, but I just couldn’t do it.”
“Why not?”
“When I told you about my aunt who went English, you said you could understand how my daed felt, so I assumed you would react the same way Dad did when he found out his sister married an Englisher.”
Cleon’s face turned bright red, and sweat darkened the sides of his hair. “So you were never going to tell me the truth?”
“I don’t know.”
He stood and headed for the door but then whirled around to face her again. “I can’t talk about this anymore. I need time to try to figure out what to do about all this.”
Grace was tempted to throw herself into his arms and beg him to stay and talk things out, but she knew Cleon well enough to realize that he needed time alone to deal with his feelings. Maybe a few hours from now they could talk about this again. Maybe by then he’d be willing to forgive her deception.
Chapter 20
As Martha and Ruth helped their mother with supper, Martha kept looking over at little Anna. She’d finished her cookies and milk and sat at the table staring at her folded hands in her lap and looking as forlorn as a lost puppy.
An idea popped into Martha’s head. “Would it be all right if I take Anna out to the barn to see Heidi’s hundlin?” she asked, leaning close to her mother’s ear.
Mom nodded. “Jah, sure, that’s a good idea. Ruth and I can finish getting the meal ready. It won’t be done for another half hour or so, and that should give you plenty of time to take Anna to the barn. Oh, and if you see your daed out there, tell him supper will be on the table in about thirty minutes.”
“Okay.” Martha hurried over to the table and bent down so she was eye level with the child. “How would you like to walk out to the barn with me to see some cute little puppies?”
At first Anna shook her head, but then she hopped down from her chair. “Can I hold ’em?”
“Of course you can.” Martha extended her hand. “We’ll be back in time for supper,” she called to Mom as the two of them went out the back door.
Holding tightly to Anna’s hand, Martha led the way to the barn. Once inside, she called for her father, but when he didn’t respond, she figured he must have gone out to his shop.
Martha directed Anna over to one of the stalls where she had moved Heidi’s three remaining puppies. They’d outgrown the box soon after they were born and needed room to run around. Dad had begun working on a dog kennel for her, but it wasn’t done.
Anna knelt in the straw with one of the sleepy pups nestled in her arms. Slender and willowy, with a slightly turned-up nose, the little girl reminded Martha of Grace in many ways.
A lump formed in Martha’s throat as she thought of how much her sister had missed, knowing she had a daughter, believing she would never see her again, and being afraid to share her secret with them. Everyone in the family had missed out on Anna’s babyhood, and it gave Martha a strange sensation to realize that she was an aunt and could have been helping raise this little girl if Grace hadn’t been afraid to tell them the truth.
She knelt next to Anna and picked up one of the other puppies. “They’re cute little things, aren’t they?”
Anna nodded and stroked the pup’s furry head. “How come you’re wearin’ such a long dress?” she asked, tipping her head to one side.
“Because my family and I belong to the Amish church, and we believe women should wear plain, simple dresses, not trousers like men.”
Anna squinted and pursed her lips. “Poppy said you dressed different than us.”
“That’s right, we do, and soon your mother will make you some long dresses to wear; then you’ll look like one of us, too.”
Anna shook her head. “I don’t wanna look like you. I wanna go home and live with Poppy.”
Martha patted Anna’s shoulder in a motherly fashion, wondering how the child would cope with all the changes she would face in the days to come.
Roman was about to turn down the gas lamps in his shop when the front door opened, and their bishop, Noah King, stepped in. He held a magazine in his hands, and his lips were compressed in a thin line.
“Wie geht’s?” Roman asked. “What brings you by so late in the day?”
“I’m here on business, but not the woodworkin’ kind,” Noah replied with a curt nod.
“What’s the problem?”
“This is the problem.” Noah held up the magazine and waved it about. “How come you let some reporter write up a story about those break-ins a few months back? Now everyone in the country will know about them, and they’ll all get a good look at your daughter, too.”
“Huh?” Roman took a step closer to the bishop and squinted. “What’s it say in there, and which daughter are you talking about?”
Noah huffed and then handed him the magazine. “See for yourself.”
Roman’s gaze came to rest on a picture of Grace standing near an Amish buggy that he assumed had been parked in Berlin, because he could see the drugstore and Christian bookstore in the background. His hands shook as he read the article telling about the break-ins that had occurred on their property. “I wonder how the reporter was able to take Grace’s picture and get all these facts. And why after all this time is the story coming out?”
“You don’t know who gave him the facts?”
“Of course not. What’d you think—that I volunteered all this information?”
The bishop shrugged. “Figured it might have been Grace, since she must have let the man take her picture.”
Roman shook his head vigorously. “I’m sure none of my family would give any reporter information such as this, much less pose for a picture.”
“Then how’d the article get written up, and how’d the man get this?” Noah’s long finger tapped the picture of Grace as he noisily clucked his tongue.
“I have no idea. Someone outside the family must have told that fellow about the break-ins, but I’m sure it wasn’t Grace. I’m equally sure she didn’t agree to him taking her picture.” Roman handed the magazine back to Noah. “How’d you come across this anyway?”
“One of my English neighbors subscribes to the magazine, and he gave it to me.” Noah gave his beard a couple of quick pulls. “Sure hope this won’t lead to more attacks for you or any of our other people.”
Roman’s forehead wrinkle
d. “You think it could?”
“Well, the one who was responsible for your break-ins might read this and decide to do it again because he’s getting free publicity. Or someone else might get the idea that if the person who did this got away with it, maybe he can, too.” Noah tapped the magazine again. “It says in the article that the sheriff wasn’t called, so someone might think they could do whatever they wanted and never get caught.”
“You think I should have called the sheriff?”
“Nee. I’m only sayin’ this article isn’t a good thing.”
Roman slowly shook his head. “Didn’t think this day could get much worse, but it surely has.”
“What’s wrong? Has there been another break-in?”
“No, but thanks to my oldest daughter and the secret she decided to keep from us these past four and a half years, things are more verhuddelt around here than ever.”
Noah’s bushy eyebrows drew together. “What kind of secret would Grace be keeping from you?”
Roman pulled out the chair behind his desk and another that sat near one of the workbenches. “Have a seat, and I’ll tell you about it.”
“Where’s Anna?” Grace asked, as she rushed into the kitchen, hoping to find comfort in her daughter’s arms.
“She’s gone out to the barn with Martha to look at the puppies.” Mom turned from the stove, where she had poured some green beans into a kettle. “Where’s Cleon? Is he still in the living room?”
Grace winced. “He’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“I–I’m not sure. Just said he was leaving and rushed out of the house.”
“Did you tell him about Anna?” Ruth, who had been setting the table, questioned.
Grace nodded and steadied herself against the cupboard door. “He … he didn’t take the news well.” With a childlike cry, she hurried across the room, burying her face against her mother’s chest. “Oh, Mom, I’m afraid I’ve ruined things between me and Cleon. I–I’m sorry I didn’t tell everyone the truth right away. How I wish I could change the past, for if I could, I would never have let Wade’s folks take Anna away. I would have raised her myself, no matter how hard it might have been.”
Mom massaged Grace’s shoulders as she rocked her gently back and forth, the way she’d done when she was a child in need of comfort. “It’s going to be all right; you’ll see. We’ll get through this together.”
“But you didn’t see Cleon’s face when I told him the news. He looked so angry and hurt.”
“I’m sure in time Cleon will realize that you didn’t keep your secret in order to hurt him,” Ruth interjected.
Grace stepped back and wiped her nose on the handkerchief Mom handed her. “No, I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean he’ll ever forgive me.”
“Cleon loves you, Grace, and I doubt he’ll stay mad for long. If he’s the kind of man he seems to be, then he’ll not only forgive as the Bible says we should do, but he’ll be willing to help you raise Anna.”
Grace tried to smile but failed miserably. She was so happy to have Anna back, but it seemed like nothing in her life would ever be right again.
“Come, have a seat at the table, and I’ll fix you a cup of tea,” her mother said.
Grace nodded numbly and pulled out a chair. She’d just taken a seat when the back door opened, and her father stepped into the kitchen followed by Bishop King. Her heart pounded. Had Dad told the bishop about Anna? Had he come here to reprimand Grace for keeping such a secret?
“Gut-n-owed, Grace,” the bishop said, moving across the room to the table.
“Good evening, Bishop King.”
“I came by your daed’s shop to tell him about an article that has your picture in it.”
Dad stepped forward, waving a magazine in the air. “Did you pose for this, Grace?” he asked accusingly. He plunked the magazine on the table, and Grace gasped.
“I—I didn’t pose for that picture. The reporter just snapped it without my permission.” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t know he was going to use it in a magazine article, either.”
“Many people take pictures of us Amish without asking, especially reporters.” The bishop pulled out the chair next to Grace and lowered himself into it. “Your daed tells me you have a daughter you’ve been keeping a secret. I came up to the house thinking you might want to talk about it.”
Grace nodded as shame and remorse settled over her like a heavy quilt. “I—I know it was wrong to keep such a secret, but I was afraid my folks wouldn’t accept the fact that I’d once been married to an English man, and that they wouldn’t understand why I had allowed his parents to raise my child after he died.”
Grace’s mother moved over to the table, placing her hands on Grace’s shoulders as if to offer some comfort. But her father stood with his arms folded, leaning against the cupboard door across the room.
“It would have been much better if you’d been up-front about this from the beginning,” the bishop said, “but the past is in the past, and nothing’s going to change what’s been done.” He touched Grace’s arm. “Since you weren’t a member of the church when this all took place, there’s no need for a public confession. However, I do hope you’ve learned a lesson from your mistake and that you’ll never lie or keep secrets from anyone again.”
“No. No, I won’t.” Grace’s eyes filled with tears, blurring her vision. “I just want my family’s support as I try to help my daughter adjust to a new way of life.”
“I’m sure you shall have that, and you can call on me or any of the other ministers for counsel should you feel the need.”
Dad said nothing, but Mom gave Grace’s shoulders another comforting squeeze. Now, if she could just get through to Cleon, she would feel some hope for the future.
For the past twenty minutes, Cleon had been sitting on the floor in the middle of what would soon be their new living room, thinking about the secret Grace had kept from him and wondering what he should do. He felt betrayed, humiliated, and confused. How could she have kept her previous marriage from him? And what about the daughter she’d allowed someone else to raise? What kind of mother would give up her own child and keep such a secret from her family and the man she was supposed to love?
He scooped up a handful of sawdust from the floor and let it sift through his fingers. “If she’d only told me about this before we were married.” He winced as the truth slammed into him with the force of stampeding horses. If Grace had told him the truth, he probably wouldn’t have married her. It wasn’t his job to raise another man’s child—especially a man who didn’t share their faith.
He stood and began to pace, going from the front window to the stone fireplace and back again. What he really wanted to do was run away from this problem, but where would he go—back home to live with his folks? What would he tell them? That his wife had a child she’d been keeping from him, and that he felt betrayed and wasn’t sure he could forgive her? Cleon knew that divorce wasn’t an option and that he needed to figure out a way to deal with Grace’s deception, but he also knew it wouldn’t be easy.
The back door opened and shut, and he whirled around. Grace entered the room. Her face was red, and the skin around her eyes looked puffy as though she’d been crying. Under different circumstances, he would have reached out to her and offered comfort.
“I was hoping that I would find you here,” she said, moving toward him.
He took a step back.
“We need to talk.”
“I think we’ve already said all that needs to be said.”
She reached her hand out to him. “I need you to understand why I kept the truth from you about Anna.”
“I don’t care about your reasons. You obviously don’t love me enough to be truthful.”
“That’s not true. I do love you, Cleon.” Grace’s voice broke, and she swiped at the tears running down her cheeks. “I—I was afraid of how you would respond, and the way you’re acting now tells me what your reaction would have bee
n if I’d told you sooner.”
Cleon shook his head. “I’m reacting to you not telling me about your secret.”
“So you’re not upset about me having been married before or having a daughter you knew nothing about?”
He turned away. “I’m very upset, and I can’t talk about this now.”
“But we need to talk things through. We need—”
“I want to be left alone.” He moved toward the door and pulled it open. “I’ll be spending the night here, so you may as well go home to your folks—and your daughter.”
“Cleon, please—”
Once more, he shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. Please, just go.”
Grace gulped on a sob, turned, and fled from the room.
Chapter 21
It was difficult for Grace to get ready for church the next morning, but she knew she must. When she’d put Anna in bed with her last night, the child had cried herself to sleep. Cleon had apparently followed through on his intention to spend the night in their unfinished house, because he’d never returned to her folks’ home.
“Anna, wake up. It’s time to get dressed and ready for church.” Grace leaned over the bed and gently shook the child’s shoulders.
Anna moaned but didn’t open her eyes.
“You need to get up and have some breakfast.”
Anna finally opened her eyes, which looked red and swollen. “Poppy. I want Poppy,” she murmured.
“I know you do, but your poppy had to go home. He’s sick and can’t take care of you now, so he brought you to me.”
Before putting the child to bed, Grace had tried to explain to Anna about her father dying and Grace agreeing to let his parents raise her baby girl because she was young and confused. The look of bewilderment on Anna’s face told Grace that the child didn’t fully understand, but with time and patience, she hoped to gain her daughter’s approval.
Grace opened Anna’s suitcase. Carl had packed plenty of winter clothes—several pairs of jeans, some sweaters, blouses, underwear, a pair of tennis shoes, snow boots, white patent leather shoes, slippers, a nightgown, and two pretty dresses—nothing suitable for an Amish child to wear to church. But she’s not really Amish, Grace reminded herself. It will take some time for her to feel as if she’s one of us.
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