How much more of this? she thought, for it had been snowing now, days on end. The weather affected her mood, though she wouldn’t have complained about it for the world. The land was in need of moisture for the crops, come spring. The Good Lord knew all about that.
She moved away from the window, thinking of Katie. How was she? Was she wishing she could write and answer Mary’s letter?
Knowing in her bones that Katie had likely struggled over this very thing, Mary knew it wasn’t prudent for her friend to be corresponding with her in any way—not even by postcard. Not because she didn’t want to—but because she’d be fearin’ for what might happen to Mary if she did!
Thinking that way lifted Mary’s spirits a little. But not enough to join the crowd of women in the kitchen. She and her mother and grandmother—along with a number of others in the community— had come to bake Christmas cookies here at the Lapp house. For Mary, it was one of the first times back at Katie’s former home since the shunning decree.
She heard the chatter and laughter in the kitchen, and glancing back, decided there were so many of them, nobody’d even notice she was missing, probably.
She wondered if Katie might not be feeling the selfsame way today. Maybe even remembering long-ago Christmases spent in Hickory Hollow, speculating about what the People might be doing; whether or not they were thinking of her. After all, there were so many of them in the church district—a good two hundred and fifty-some folk. What did one lost sheep matter?
Did Katie ever think of Bishop John? Did she ever wonder if he missed her?
Well, if it had been up to her to respond outright to such a peculiar question, Mary would’ve had to say that the man did appear to be a bit downtrodden. Not completely defeated, mind you. But that sad look in his eyes, and the way he carried it around on his face everywhere he went, that’s what gave his feelings away.
More than anything, she longed to ease the pain in those lovely gray eyes, erase the burden in his soul. John Beiler needed someone. So did his five little ones.
Ach, the thought of jumping into a ready-made family, large as it was, near scared her to death. But the power of love could change all that, she knew.
If only the bishop had an inkling how often she thought of him. If only he had the same feelings.…
The bishop was a man chosen to lead the People. What sort of woman would allow sentimental notions over a man of God? Especially a man still getting over being spurned on his wedding day.
Yet romantic whims cluttered her head all the same—spinning round and only halting when she made a conscious effort to make them stop.
He deliberately bumped his feet together as he came into the kitchen, muttering to himself.
“What’s-a-matter with Jacob?” his big sister asked.
The Beiler children gawked from their places around the long table, where they sat making Christmas cards for each other.
“Looks to me like he’s got trouble walkin’,” said eight-year-old Levi, the bishop’s next-to-oldest son. “Didja lop off your toenails too short?” he asked his little brother, chuckling.
“Don’t be making fun,” warned Hickory John, the oldest. Then to Jacob, “Are ya hurt?”
Jacob glanced at Levi out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t no baby, but—“Jah, I am … I’m hurt clean down to my big toe.”
Nancy motioned for him to come sit beside her on the wooden bench. “Let’s have a peek at them wounded piggies.”
Susie, age six and two years older’n him, started giggling.
“Keep your mind on your work,” Nancy reminded her.
Jacob was awful glad for a big sister like Nancy. Maybe because she reminded him of his mamma. ’Course, he really didn’t know, since he was too young to remember her when she died.
He felt his foot relax as Nancy unlaced his heavy shoes and pulled the left one off first. “Which hurts the most?”
He shook his head. “They both hurt, and now I can’t walk much. And my heart’s beating hard down there.” He pointed at his bare foot.
Levi and Susie snickered, covering their mouths.
“S’not nice,” Nancy reprimanded. “Think how you’d feel if someone made fun of your toenails!”
The children, Hickory John included, howled in a fit of laughter, and they might’ve kept it up if their father hadn’t spoken up just then.
“It’s awful nice to hear my family makin’ ready on Christmas Eve,” he called to them from the utility room.
Jacob heard Daed’s work boots drop to the floor, one at a time. “I chopped off my toes nearly,” he hollered out to his father. “And Levi’s tormentin’ me.”
“Tattletales go to hell,” whispered Levi.
Nancy grabbed hold of his ears, covering them. But it was too late. He’d heard the wicked word. Levi had just said the word that meant the Bad Place—where the devil lived. T’wasn’t no gettin’ around it this time. Levi’d have to have his mouth washed out with soap. Served him right, too. He was always spouting off things that got him in trouble with Daed.
Just yesterday, Levi had gotten his behind swatted for saying the same word about Katie Lapp. That she would burn in that brimstonehot place for getting shunned. For leaving Hickory Hollow.
‘Course, Jacob had no idea what being shunned was all about. But since he’d never had a chance to say good-bye to the pretty redhead who liked to hum a lot—that happy-go-lucky lady who was gonna be his new mamma—since she’d just up and disappeared, well, he figured maybe Katie had gone down there where Levi said. After all, she’d run away on her wedding day, hadn’t she? What kinda silly woman would do such a terrible, awful thing?
Most of ’em, Hickory John said, wanted to get married. Couldn’t hardly wait to. Like that Mary Stoltzfus. He’d never heard her humming, but he thought she might be a nice wife for somebody. Thing was, she was plump as a dumplin’—a wonderful-gut sign, seemed to him. Besides that, Nancy and Hickory John were whispering something about Mary first thing this morning, before Daed called the family to prayer. Nancy said she heard Mary’s cousin say that Katie’s best friend was thinking of dropping by with some angel gingerbread and sour cream chocolate cookies. Comin’ over here to bring treats for Christmas!
Well, if that be true, Jacob decided he’d be real nice to the roundfaced girl. She might be feeling just as bad as he was about their Katie having to go down and live with the devil, probably.
Dylan spent the morning going over several end-of-year financial records. When he was satisfied with his progress, he made an impromptu call to Laura’s doctor, informing the man of Nurse Judah’s suggestion that hospital arrangements be made should the need arise.
The conversation was brief. It was quickly decided that a private room would be available and waiting.
Around midmorning, Dylan was somewhat startled to receive an unexpected visitor. Rosie Taylor. “Do come in.” He motioned her into his office.
“Are we quite alone?” She closed the door.
Dylan nodded. “What’s on your mind?”
“Christmas Eve dinner, I suppose. I’m wondering how we might make it more comfortable for Mrs. Bennett.” She paused for a moment, looking rather chagrined.
“Go on.”
“Your wife has asked that she and Katie be allowed to dine alone …
in her private suite, that is.”
He picked up a pencil and twirled it between his fingers, suppressing the urge to chuckle. So the two of them were getting along famously, it appeared. “Not a problem,” he replied. “Is Katie with Mrs. Bennett now?”
“She is.”
“Very well. You’ll see to it, then?”
“Consider it done.” Then, before leaving, she posed an interesting question. “Where is it you’ll be taking your dinner, sir?”
He hadn’t thought of it, really. But eating alone in the enormous dining room, elegant as it was, seemed out of the question. Not on Christmas Eve. This night was a time for family, for sharing one another�
�s company, wasn’t it?
If his wife chose to exclude him … well, he might just make other plans. He stood up and addressed the matter at hand. “If Mrs.
Bennett prefers to dine without her husband … fine. I’ll have the meal brought up to me.”
“Here, in the office?”
“On second thought, perhaps I’ll go out for dinner,” he said, offering Rosie his most congenial smile.
He was almost certain this tidbit of information would throw Laura for a loop. Rosie would rush downstairs and report what he’d said about dining out … alone. And Laura would feel terribly guilty, excluding him this way; after all, her Christian conscience would not permit her to ignore a man who’d gone out of his way to bring a beloved daughter home for Christmas.
She’d come around. Most certainly, his wife would insist on inviting him to join their intimate soiree. Of this, he was soundly certain.
She knelt on the floor, pondering whether to open the suitcase. Did she dare snoop? The thought poked at Katherine’s conscience. ’Twas not the right thing to be doing—intruding on someone’s personal privacy this way. And it was the last thing she would’ve done … under any other circumstance.
But knowing what she’d just discovered about Laura’s illness—that the mistress was truly dying—how could she resist?
It was Garrett who’d told her. While they were in the kitchen earlier this morning. “Very ill,” he’d replied to her question about Laura Bennett’s health. “Nurse Judah has made preliminary plans at the hospital. It’s that serious.”
“You mean …”
“She’s dying, yes. Mrs. Bennett, sad to say, may not see the light of New Year’s Day.”
The steward had been ever so kind to tell her, she thought. Gently he’d broken the news, as if shielding her, their newest staff member, from the grave situation.
And now here, before her, lay the Amish girl’s suitcase. It seemed almost providential somehow. Carefully, she opened the lid.
One glance, and she discovered the most immodest clothing she’d ever seen. Yet the skimpy garments couldn’t really be classified as clothing, could they? The red sheer top and scant underpants were the farthest thing from any nightwear she’d ever worn. Still, she held the silky things, unable to put them down, her eyes searching the suitcase for more evidence.
When she spotted additional non-Amish attire, she felt decidedly uneasy. Nervously, she rearranged the items just as she’d found them, then closed the suitcase and went about cleaning the room.
She’d heard of Amish teenagers purchasing fancy underwear, sometimes even English clothes to wear when they were in town on weekends. That type of thing happened usually only during the Rumspringa—“running around” years—when strict Amish parents seemed to look the other way, letting their young people have a taste of the modern world.
But this woman, this Katie Lapp, was long past all that. Of course, Katherine would know for sure if she caught a glimpse of the woman, or if she could see for herself if Katie wore a cap. If so, that would mean the young woman had indeed been baptized into the Amish church and had no business hiding such fancy, wicked things!
Katherine was soon back downstairs, offering to help clear off the mistress’s dishes. “The guest room is finished,” she told Rosie, “and I have a little extra time now.”
“Very well, but take care not to interrupt Mrs. Bennett’s conversation with her daughter.”
“I’ll be quiet.” Quiet as a field mouse, she thought. And her heart leaped up as she scurried down the hallway toward the suite, following Rosie’s directions.
Oh, to see my birth Mam face-to-face! she thought. What a wonderful-good Christmas present that would be.
But someone’s voice intruded on her thoughts. Someone calling, “Excuse me!”
She turned to see Fulton, the butler, running down the steps.
“Yes, sir?”
“Are you busy at the moment?” Whatever he needed seemed terribly urgent.
“I … I s’pose I’m not.” She said it reluctantly, right away hoping the words hadn’t come across as grouchy.
“Good. Then come with me.”
Katherine obeyed, casting aside her dearest wish in response to Fulton’s request. She followed him to the kitchen, her mind whirling.
So close, she thought. Ach, so very close!
Dan prayed silently as he sent a fax to the Lancaster County Court House. Although he’d decided to check the public record as to requests for marriage licenses over the past five and a half years, his conscience pricked him like nettles.
Within the hour he had the information he needed. The only thing lacking was the street address where his sister Annie now lived with her husband, Samuel Lapp’s eldest son, Elam—a fellow he’d run buggy races with years ago. They’d attended farm auctions, often playing vigorous games of corner ball with other Amish teens. And there were those too-serious games of baseball during recess at the one-room schoolhouse.
So … Elam Lapp had ended up with his sister. He shouldn’t have been surprised, really. Katie’s big brother had always taken a shine to Annie. From the earliest days, he’d watched them play together at picnics and barn raisings—and, later, make eyes at each other at the Singings.
Turning off the computer, he dismissed glowing memories of Christmas in Lancaster County.
And of Katie.
By lunchtime, the women had made thirty dozen cookies. Rebecca apologized over and over for having other things on her mind. For completely drawing a blank about the morning’s plans.
“It’s understandable,” said Ella Mae Zook. “You’ve been through a painful time, Rebecca.”
“We all have,” Mary Stoltzfus remarked. “Losing someone you love is the hardest thing in the world.”
Annie Lapp nodded solemnly, buttoning her wrap.
Rebecca followed her daughter-in-law to the back door. “Must ya go already?”
“Jah, Elam’s baby-sittin’ little Daniel, and he’ll be more than ready for me to take over, for sure.” She clucked, her eyes twinkling. “You know how awkward Elam is with infants.”
Rebecca nodded. She’d seen her son trying to burp the new baby.
“We’ll look forward to seein’ ya tomorrow noon, for Christmas dinner, then.”
“I’ll bring the pies.” Annie leaned over to kiss Rebecca good-bye. “Anything else?”
“Got everything pretty near under control, denki.”
“Gut, then. Merry Christmas, Mam.” Annie turned to go.
Glancing out the kitchen window, Rebecca watched as Annie and the other women made their way to the parked carriages. Thankfully, Samuel and Eli were busy with the womenfolk’s driving horses, bringing them back one at a time from the barn where the animals had been watered and fed.
Rebecca turned to face the Wise Woman at last. “Painful’s not the only thing about this situation with my wayward daughter,” she said, waving her hand distractedly. “I’ve near lost my mind over my shunned girl.”
Ella Mae came and wrapped her arms around her, and for one of the first times since Katie had fled Hickory Hollow, Rebecca felt free to pour out her woes, sobbing as she did.
When she was through, she blew her nose and sniffled a bit. The elderly aunt just sat quietly, as if waiting for Rebecca to pull herself together. “There’s been lots better Christmases than this,” Rebecca blurted.
“And there’ll be lots worse, probably.”
“Can’t see how that could be,” she mumbled into her hankie.
“None of us do, really, I ’speck. It’s mighty hard trying to see anywheres past our noses when it comes to problems, but ‘this too shall pass.’ Remember that, Rebecca. Ain’t nothin’ put on ya more than you can bear. The Good Lord said so.”
She nodded in agreement but scarcely believed a word of it. Aunt Ella Mae had never gone through suffering as miserable as having a daughter shunned. Never.
“I’ve thought of going over to Lydia’s for a visit, sinc
e it’s Christmas and all,” she found herself saying.
“Wouldn’t recommend it, Rebecca. Doubt the bishop would, neither.”
Rebecca was going to be honest even though it could turn around and get her shunned if she wasn’t careful. “No, but I can’t help thinkin’ I’d sure like to see my girl one more time, at least. Not talk to her— just gaze on her.”
“I know you would, and I’d go with you if ya thought it might look better … less suspicious,” Ella Mae offered.
“You’d do that? You’d come with me?”
“Ain’t got too many years left on this here earth. S’posin’ I can take a risk … if you can.”
Rebecca allowed the old woman to hug her once again.
So it was settled. She’d hitch up Ol’ Molasses this very afternoon and drive on down the lane to see Lydia Miller … and whoever else was home.
Chapter Thirteen
Katherine felt awkward about eavesdropping on the kitchen conversation, but she rolled out the pie dough, listening anyway.
“Mrs. Bennett has requested a portrait be made of herself and her daughter,” Garrett remarked to Rosie. “A special Christmas and welcome-home gift all wrapped up in one. A splendid idea, don’t you think?”
“Well, that all depends. The mistress may not be up to posing for it today. She’s had to rest … had to postpone her visit with Katie, even.”
“Is that so?” Garrett seemed surprised. “Then what of the portrait?”
“Couldn’t say. All I know is she’s retired for the afternoon and is skipping tea in hopes of feeling a little stronger tonight.”
“Poor thing,” the steward muttered. “And we had all hoped that seeing her daughter again would be just what she needed to turn the corner.”
“What she needs,” declared Rosie, “is a miracle!”
So do I, thought Katherine, her chest tightening. Oh, she just had to see her real mamma before something dreadful happened.
What if she dies tonight? What if I never get the chance to tell herwho I am? She resisted the horrid thought and those that followed. How frustrating, how painful, to miss out on getting to know Laura Bennett, the woman she was sure was her mother.
The Confession Page 11
