A Dream of Home: Hearts of the Lancaster Grand Hotel: Book Three

by Amy Clipston

  “Frehlicher Grischtdaag.” He looked at the clock on the wall. “We need to go to bed. It’s late, Emma.”

  “I know.” She started unlacing the skates. “I can’t wait to try these out.”

  “I’m certain you’ll have plenty of opportunities to skate this winter.”

  “I wonder if Maddie likes to ice-skate.” Emma looked up at her father. “I’m just wondering. I’m not going to ask her to skate with me.”

  “It’s bedtime, Emma.” Saul stood and watched her remove the skates. How could he convince Emma to stop thinking about Madeleine when he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about her?

  TWENTY-ONE

  Madeleine pulled her wheeled suitcase up the back porch steps, and before unlocking the back door, she glanced back toward Saul’s house. She saw a dim light flicker in his kitchen window. Saul and Emma were probably getting ready for bed. Although she’d only been gone for six days, it felt more like a lifetime.

  She pulled open the door, closed it behind her, and stepped through to her kitchen, which greeted her with the sweet smell of new wood and stain. She flipped on the two lanterns on the table and looked at the beautiful new countertop and cabinets lining the far wall. She blew out an excited gasp. Saul’s creations were more beautiful than she’d ever imagined!

  After letting go of her suitcase and setting her bag on the table, she rushed over to the cabinets. She ran her hands over the smooth wood and opened a door, then another. She was stunned to find all her dishes, cups, and bowls lined up perfectly.

  Madeleine shook her head. Even though he was acting cold and aloof, Saul had taken the extra time to arrange things for her. She studied the cabinets and countertop for several minutes, taking in the beautiful artistry of Saul’s work.

  She stepped over to the table to sift through the stack of mail, sorting out bills and advertisements. She thumbed through an advertisement for the home improvement store where her parents had bought her gift card before placing it back on the table. Then she spotted an envelope with her name handwritten on it, and her heart thumped in her chest. She picked up the envelope, wondering if Saul had written her a note. Had he been touched by her gift and felt compelled to write her a letter?

  She opened the envelope and found a letter inside that said:

  Dear Maddie,

  Thank you for the cookbook. You were very generous to give it to me. I’m excited to try Mammi’s favorite recipes. I’ll let you know how the oatmeal cookies and chocolate cake come out. Maybe I can sneak over and give you some. Mei dat appreciates the screwdriver set. I saw him using them in his shop yesterday. I think it means a lot to him that you gave him those special tools. He loved Mammi and your daadi too. I wanted to make you something as a gift, but mei dat said it was best if I kept my distance.

  Even though I’m not supposed to be your friend, I want you to know that I miss you. Mei dat does too, but he won’t admit it. I hope you had a nice Christmas with your family. We miss you.

  Love,

  Emma (and Saul too!)

  Madeleine read the letter over and over until she practically had it memorized. She was touched to hear the gifts had meant something special to Emma and Saul. Maybe she could find a way to prove to Saul that she had no intention of threatening his world, that she just wanted to be a part of his and Emma’s life. She couldn’t just let them go and act as if they were only strangers who lived on the adjacent property. She had to show him how much she cared.

  Emma hummed to herself as she made her way out to her father’s shop. She was excited to tell him what she’d made for supper. All by herself, she’d followed Mammi’s recipe for crepes! They were actually easy to make—easier than she’d thought they would be. Now she had to convince Dat to come in from working. She couldn’t wait for them to enjoy her delicious creation!

  She picked up her pace as she approached the shop door and then stepped into the showroom where her father was sanding a long piece of wood. “Dat!” she yelled. “Supper is ready. I made crepes.” She stood up a little taller and hugged her cloak to her body to try to shield herself from the early January cold. “It’s ready.”

  “Emma.” Dat looked over at her, frowning. “Would you do me a quick favor?”

  “Ya.” She nodded.

  “I think I left my favorite work gloves on my dresser.” He pointed toward the house. “I need them so I can finish up this one piece of wood.”

  “But supper is ready.” She jammed her hand on her small hip. “Can’t you look for them after we eat? I worked hard on this meal for you. I want to show you how much I’ve learned about cooking.”

  “I know you did, mei liewe, and I appreciate it. You’re a gut cook. I just want to finish this one piece of wood. I promise I won’t take long.”

  “All right. I’ll be right back.” Emma rushed into the house and upstairs to her father’s bedroom.

  She searched his dresser and didn’t find the gloves. She sank to her knees and looked under the bed in case he had dropped them and they’d fallen underneath it. She spotted something under the middle of the bed, and she crawled under and grabbed what turned out to be a metal box. She gripped its handle and yanked it out from under the bed.

  She crossed her legs under her and examined the small, cold box. She’d never seen it before. Why would Dat keep it under the bed? Had he forgotten about the mysterious box? Or had he accidentally pushed it under there and been searching for it?

  After turning the box over in her hands, she clicked open the latch. She lifted the lid and found a stack of papers. While pulling them out, her eyes focused on a tattered envelope at the bottom of the stack. The envelope, which had already been ripped open, was addressed to her father and contained a letter. She pulled out the handwritten letter, and even though it was wrong to snoop in her father’s things, she had to read it.

  Dear Saul,

  I hope this letter finds you well. I know you never expected to hear from me, but I thought it was only right for me to inform you of the sad news. Annie has passed away. She died tragically in a boating accident almost two months ago. I’ve spent the past two months grieving, and I felt you had a right to know about it.

  She and I liked to spend our weekends during the summer months boating with friends. We had been out for the day when our boat was involved in a collision. Annie fell and hit her head, and she died from massive head trauma after two weeks in a coma.

  I know there is a lot of bad blood between us, and I’m sorry. I was wrong to come back for Annie and steal her away from you and Emma. At the time, my focus was only on my own needs, and I never considered that I had broken up a family. Now that she’s gone, I know what it’s like to experience real loss. I never thought about how much I had hurt you and your daughter until now. I guess I’m also writing to say I’m sorry. I’ve been selfish and hurtful.

  I know I can’t fix the past, but I wanted to at least tell you I’m sorry. I’ve lost Annie now, but you and Emma lost her years ago. Please forgive me.

  Sincerely,

  Timothy

  Emma read through the letter two more times, trying to comprehend it. Who was Timothy? And what did he mean that Annie had died? Annie . . . Was this letter about her mamm? And didn’t her dat say she had pneumonia and died in a hospital? If her mamm was the Annie mentioned in this letter, then why was she in a boat? It didn’t make sense.

  She read the letter for a fourth time and then examined the envelope. According to the postmark, it had been mailed more than a year ago from Missouri. If Annie was her mamm and she was in Missouri, then . . .

  Emma gasped. My mamm was alive?

  Then it hit her like a thousand bales of hay falling from the loft in the barn: Mamm didn’t die more than seven years ago. She abandoned Dat and me!

  “No, no, no!” Emma yelled. “This can’t be true! It can’t be!”

  Tears gushed from her eyes like powerful waterfalls. Emma needed answers. She needed to hear the truth from her father, and she needed t
o hear it now.

  Emma jumped up and ran down the stairs, gripping the letter in her hand.

  By the time she’d reached her father’s shop, she was sobbing and the letter was crumpled in her fist.

  “Emma? What happened?” Dat’s eyes were wide. “Emma, was iss letz?”

  “What is this?” She shook the letter in front of his face. “What does this mean? Who is Timothy? Why did he write this to you?” And then she found the courage to ask the question that was burning through her. “Did mei mamm leave me? Did she leave us?”

  Dat took the letter from her, and his expression hardened. “Where did you find this?”

  “Answer my questions!” Her voice croaked on her sobs. “Tell me the truth, Dat. Did Mamm leave us?”

  He gave her a quick nod. “She left the Amish.”

  “Why?” Emma’s question came out in a wail. “Why?”

  He stared at her. “She just . . . left.”

  “Why did she leave?” Emma demanded. “Where did she go? Who’s Timothy?”

  Dat blew out a heavy sigh and shook his head.

  “Tell me, Dat. I need to know why she left.” She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “Why didn’t she come and see me? Why didn’t she call me?” Her questions thundered through her like a midsummer storm. “Why didn’t she write to me? Didn’t she love me at all?”

  “We’re not going to talk about this now. You need to calm down. Let’s go eat supper.”

  Dat reached for her, but Emma stepped away. “I can’t eat.” Emma shuddered as more tears filled her eyes. “I need to know why mei mamm left me.”

  “Just go in the haus and wash up. I’ll be right there.” He patted her arm. “I’ll be right behind you in a minute.”

  Emma stepped out into the cold evening air and shivered as confusion and frustration nearly overcame her. Large, fluffy snowflakes danced down from the sky and wet her cloak. She wiped away the snowflakes that pelted her cheeks while considering the news that had just shattered her heart. She needed to know the truth, and she wanted to hear it from her father.

  Why wouldn’t he answer her questions? How could her mother leave her and never contact her again? None of this made any sense! Everything her father had told her since she was four had been a lie. How could he lie to her? He was the one person she’d always trusted the most, and he’d lied to her!

  She looked at her house and couldn’t bear the thought of sitting down to supper as if nothing had happened. She needed time alone. She had to have some quiet time to think and try to figure everything out. Instead of following her father’s instructions, she began to run.

  Emma rushed out of his shop, and Saul blew out a deep, shuddering breath. He knew he’d have to tell her the truth about her mother someday, and he’d always been afraid someone else would tell her. But he’d never expected her to find out on her own. Several times he’d considered burning Timothy’s letter, but instead he’d kept it in case she wanted proof that her mother had left of her own accord. He was certain his hiding place had been sufficient, but it had only proven to be a painful way for Emma to find out the truth without his guidance and support.

  He studied the crumpled letter and shook his head. Did Annie have any idea how much pain she’d caused when she’d walked away from their daughter? It was one thing for her to hurt Saul; he was an adult and he’d found a way to recover. But the pain in Emma’s eyes was enough to crush his heart and his spirit. Now he had to pick up the pieces and try to console her. He’d needed a few minutes alone to collect himself before he could help her.

  He folded up the letter, shoved it into his pocket, put his tools away, and set the wood aside. After extinguishing the lanterns, he left the shop. Large, wet snowflakes peppered his coat and hat as he strode toward the house in the dark.

  “Emma?” Saul stepped into the mudroom. “Emma? Where are you? Let’s sit down and have supper. We’ll talk after you’ve calmed down.” He moved into the kitchen and found the table set with a platter of crepes and trimmings in the middle. “Emma Kate?” He walked through the kitchen to the family room. “Emma Kate? Where are you?”

  He stood outside the bathroom door and gently knocked. “Are you in there?” He knocked again. “Emma, please answer me.”

  The house remained deathly silent. He stuck his head into the laundry room and still didn’t see her. With a lantern in his hand, he climbed the stairs to the second floor and stepped into her bedroom, hoping to find her sitting on her bed, maybe reading her Bible for comfort.

  “Emma Kate, where are you?” He stalked down the hallway, glancing into the sewing room and spare room on his way to his bedroom. “Emma! Where are you?”

  When he found his bedroom also empty, Saul’s mind began to race. He rushed down the stairs and outside with a lantern. He held the lantern out in front of him and moved through the now blinding snow toward his barns and shops. He searched the horse barn and the area by the chicken coops while calling out her name. He walked behind the house and yelled into the field.

  “Emma!” he screamed. “Emma, come out now! Where are you?”

  As the curtain of snow falling down from the heavens intensified, terrifying visions flashed through Saul’s mind. Had Emma run off toward Marcus’s house and gotten hit by a car? Had she fallen into a ditch by the side of the road? Did a passerby kidnap her?

  The worries slammed through him, and his heart pounded against his rib cage as he rushed toward his largest shop, where he kept a phone. He needed to call his friends and neighbors and ask them to help him find his precious daughter.

  While dialing Marcus’s number, he prayed someone would hear the phone ringing in their barn.

  “Please answer, please answer,” he muttered. After nearly two dozen rings, someone finally did.

  “Hello?” Marcus’s voice sounded through the receiver.

  “Marcus!” Saul almost yelled. “I need help. Emma is missing. I can’t find her anywhere. I’ve searched my haus, my barns, and my shops, and now it’s getting dark. And the snow is falling heavily, and I—”

  “Whoa,” Marcus said. “Slow down. How long has she been missing? Where was the last place you saw her?”

  “It’s been about twenty minutes,” Saul said. “I sent her to look for something in my room, and she found the letter from Timothy. She read it, Marcus.” His voice quavered. “She knows the truth now about Annie. She brought the letter out to me in the shop. She was really upset, and she asked me several questions I wasn’t prepared to answer. I told her to go back into the haus and that we’d talk after supper. I went in to find her, and she was gone. She may be on the way to your haus.”

  “All right. I’ll ask Sylvia to look around our property, and I’ll head your way in a horse and buggy. I’ll also tell Esther to call a few neighbors,” Marcus said. “You call neighbors too. We’ll organize a search party.”

  “Danki.” Saul nodded. He was grateful his best friend had taken control of the situation, because he didn’t seem to have the presence of mind to do it.

  “I’ll be there soon. We’ll find her.” Marcus hung up.

  Saul called two of his surrounding neighbors and asked them to help him search for his daughter. While he waited for his neighbors to arrive, Saul gazed across the field and spotted a light shining at Madeleine’s house. He jogged down the driveway and hurried up her back porch steps.

  Her door opened before he even had a chance to knock. She must have been looking out the window and seen his lantern.

  “Saul?” Madeleine asked, her eyes round as she swung open the storm door. “Is everything all right?”

  “I’m looking for Emma. Is she here?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I haven’t seen her since I got back from California. What’s going on?”

  “I can’t find her,” Saul said while working to catch his breath. “I think she ran away.”

  “Oh no.” Madeleine started to reach for him and then stopped. “Why would she run away?” />
  “She found the letter telling me about her mother’s death. She knows the truth now, and she was so upset . . .” Madeleine gasped again. Saul couldn’t go on.

  “Let me get my boots, and I’ll help you. Just give me a minute.” She opened the storm door wider. “Step inside. It’s freezing out there.” Madeleine hurried down the hallway toward her bedroom.

  He waited in the kitchen, his mind racing with worry. Madeleine reappeared a few minutes later clad in a heavy coat, scarf, and boots.

  She held a large flashlight toward him. “Would you like to use this? I have two of them.”

  “Danki.” Saul took the flashlight, and their hands brushed. “I’ve called a few friends and neighbors, and they are going to help.”

  “Do you want me to call the police?” Madeleine pulled out her phone. “I can dial nine-one-one right now.”

  “Ya,” he said. “You call them, and I’ll go organize the neighbors.”

  “I’ll be out as soon as I can and find you.”

  “Danki.” Saul headed out the door and prayed he’d find his daughter soon—before it was too late.

  Madeleine’s heart raced with panic after she disconnected her call to the police. The emergency dispatcher promised to send out an Amber Alert and send police officers to Saul’s farm. The worry and panic in Saul’s eyes had cut right through Madeleine’s soul. She couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to his sweet little girl.

  Armed with her large flashlight, Madeleine hurried outside and up the driveway toward Saul’s house, where she found him standing with a group of Amish men.

  “The police are coming,” she said as she approached. She recognized Marcus. “How can I help?”

  “We’re going to knock on doors and search the fields,” Marcus said. “We need someone to stay at the haus in case she comes back.”