The Secret Keeper

by Beverly Lewis

  “There’s an empty hook over yonder.” Ella Mae pointed toward the back door, her expression serious.

  Is she scrutinizing me, too? The older woman seemed guarded, similar to almost everyone else Jenny had encountered in the past week.

  “How was the walk over?” asked Ella Mae, going to the counter and opening a cupboard above her white head. She reached for two teacups and set them on the counter.

  Jenny said she’d enjoyed it very much, then quickly explained that Rebecca Lapp had stayed home to help her husband groom a horse.

  “That’s all right. Rebecca comes here quite often.” She pulled out the chair and seated Jenny as if she were an honored guest. The gesture was sweet and reminded Jenny of something her mother might do. “Would ya care for some homemade pastries with your tea, Jenny?”

  “I’d love some. Denki.”

  Ella Mae’s eyes brightened. “Well, you sound nearly Amish.”

  “I have a feeling I’ll speak Deitsch long before I’m able to embody the spirit of submission. Like Rebecca . . . and the other women in the community.”

  Ella Mae nodded. “That quality comes more easily for some, I’ll admit.” She carried the teacups to the small table, each one perched on its matching saucer, and set one in front of Jenny on a place mat embroidered with yellow roses. Her wrinkled hand trembled, which caused the other cup and saucer to jingle as she situated it on her own place mat directly across from Jenny. “Our mothers here begin training their wee tots in obedience from the time a child is two. You won’t see many rutschich little ones at the table, for example. They’re taught to sit still and be patient.”

  “Do you mean submission can be taught?”

  Ella Mae smiled. “To a clean slate—a young child—jah. Although some youngsters have stronger wills than others, of course. They’re taught to recite this old school verse and take it to heart: ‘I must be a Christian child, gentle, patient, meek and mild; must be honest, simple, true, in my words and actions, too. I must cheerfully obey, giving up my will and way. . . . Must remember God can view all I think and all I do.’”

  Jenny considered Ella Mae’s remarks and the traditional poem.

  “Are ya havin’ some trouble with this?” Ella Mae gently asked.

  “It’s just that I know myself too well.” Jenny was reluctant to say more.

  “Chust remember the Lord God knows your heart better than you know it yourself.”

  It was hard not to like this woman. “And He still loves us, in spite of ourselves,” Jenny added.

  “Jah, despite our shortcomings.”

  They sipped their tea; several cups’ worth, it was so tasty. A large plate of treats graced the middle of the table, including two Jenny didn’t recognize. Her generous hostess seemed happy to name them off: pineapple cookies and walnut drops. There were sand tarts, as well.

  “You’re spoiling me,” Jenny said.

  “Well, now, you’ve been through a rough week, I s’pose. So why not sit back and enjoy?”

  Jenny agreed. “You’re very kind, thank you.”

  Ella Mae dipped her head and demurely peeked up at her. “I’m awful glad you came, or I would’ve been takin’ tea alone this afternoon.”

  “Do you have tea at different times of day like the Brits do?”

  “I honestly don’t know what they do over there, dearie. I’ve been known to drink tea three times in a day, sometimes with my noon meal, which is considered dinnertime amongst the Amish.”

  Jenny smiled. “Marnie filled me in on that and many other things before I made the decision to come here.”

  “Marnie’s a gut and faithful friend.”

  “Jah, and it’s almost as if we’ve grown up together.”

  “Did you see each other a few times before you started writing letters?”

  “Actually, it was after we first met that we began exchanging letters. Each summer after that, we’ve visited at the Bird-in-Hand Farmers Market, taking several walks together.”

  “But you never stayed in an Amish home till now?”

  “No.” She didn’t say that Marnie’s mother had been nervous about her daughter being friends with an Englisher.

  “It must be quite the experience, livin’ in an Amish house.”

  “It’s different than I thought.”

  “In what ways?”

  Jenny mentioned the nearly nonstop work, as well as the specific duties required of women versus men. “There’s so much cooking. No matter how much food Rebecca and I prepare, there are rarely leftovers.”

  Ella Mae tittered. “There aren’t many shy folk at the table round here. Second and third helpings are mighty common.”

  They talked about the current wedding season, and Ella Mae mentioned she had three great-granddaughters getting married between this Thursday and the middle of December. “Thankfully, they all didn’t choose the same day!”

  “Could you possibly attend more than one wedding in a day?” Jenny asked.

  “Well, that’s just the thing . . . ya can, but not the whole day, ya know.” Ella Mae reached for another sand tart she’d been eyeing. “It’s all right to eat a few of these, ya know. They’re ever so thin.”

  Jenny smiled. “I noticed that, too. Trust me, these cookies are an art form. You should see mine—well, maybe not. They’re at least five times thicker.”

  Ella Mae gave a wave of her hand. “Ach, I have little else to do nowadays. My eyes are wearin’ out, so I don’t do tatting or embroidery anymore.” She looked about the kitchen and the small sitting room adjoining. “I much prefer to bake, and the more I do, the thinner my sand tarts get, I daresay.”

  Jenny wondered if, at times, even baking posed a challenge for the frail-looking woman.

  “Growing old has its moments.” Ella Mae’s voice grew weary. “Times of reckoning, for sure and for certain.”

  “Do you have any regrets?” Jenny asked, hoping she wasn’t being too prying.

  “Honestly, if I think on it, I’m embarrassed by some of my youthful decisions.” Ella Mae paused to touch one of the strings of her Kapp. “And, if I may be so bold to say, some of the church’s, too.”

  Jenny was so surprised, she didn’t know what to make of this.

  “Ach, but you’re startin’ out . . . chust comin’ into the Old Ways.” Ella Mae turned her face to the window. “I’d never want to discourage you on your journey. Never.”

  “Rebecca tells me the People aren’t perfect—no church is,” Jenny said.

  “And she’s right.” Ella Mae reached over and took hold of her hand. Her eyes welled up as she searched Jenny’s face and gently squeezed her fingers. “Never forget that, dearie. Keep your eyes fixed on the Lord Jesus, and you’ll never be disappointed.”

  The words of the Wise Woman, as Rebecca said she was called, settled in as Jenny thanked Ella Mae for inviting her to the lovely tea, then reached for the shawl and bonnet before heading out the door into the cold air. Even colder now that the sun was concealed by a long, flimsy cloud, like a windblown bridal veil.

  She’s embarrassed by some of the church’s decisions. Jenny stood silently on the porch, letting Ella Mae’s poignant words linger. At the very least, she hoped she might return for another visit. Perhaps she might become a helpful friend to the elderly woman who had affected her so deeply, moving her in ways Jenny did not fully comprehend.

  Was she giving me a warning? Jenny wondered as she walked down the narrow sidewalk. Then again, Ella Mae had stated that she didn’t want to discourage Jenny.

  She turned to look back at the little dwelling built onto the larger house, which belonged to Ella Mae’s daughter Mattie Beiler. And as she did, she noticed a man with a very bushy brown beard walking out of the main farmhouse across the small yard. When he spotted her there, his ruddy face broke into a broad smile.

  “Aren’t you Jenny Burns, the seeker from Connecticut?” he asked, coming her way.

  “Yes, uh . . . jah.” She’d seen him before—the middle-ag
ed man in the buggy that had passed them on Sunday after church. This was the father of the boy who had skated to and from Preaching.

  “Well, I’m mighty pleased to meet ya.” He stuck out his big callused hand. “Hezekiah Stoltzfus is my name. Just call me Hezzy, if you don’t mind.”

  “Denki.” She quickly let go of his hand.

  “I’m Mary Beiler’s uncle, just over pickin’ up some mending.” He nodded in what Jenny assumed was the direction of the bishop’s place. “I go over there to help the minister out some with the livestock and whatnot all.” He glanced back toward Mattie Beiler’s house. “Ya might not know the bishop and Ella Mae’s son-in-law, David, are brothers.” He laughed heartily. “Goodness knows, nearly all of us are related here in the hollow.”

  She gave him what she hoped was a polite smile, noticing how dark his beard was compared to his peppered, graying hair. It crossed her mind that he might be using hair dye on his beard, assuming an Amishman would do such a thing. “Well, I’d better get going.”

  “I’m headin’ out, too . . . why don’t I give you a lift, Jenny?”

  Yikes, she thought, wondering how to get out of this gracefully. No way was she getting into his carriage. Next thing, all of Hickory Hollow would have her linked to this older man!

  She was thinking of what to say so as not to offend him when she heard the squeak of Ella Mae’s screen door, followed by her thin voice. “Jenny, dear?”

  “Excuse me, please,” she said, grateful for this unexpected yet convenient distraction. She ran back to Ella Mae’s house. “What is it?” Jenny asked.

  “Won’t ya come inside for a moment?” Ella Mae pushed the door open wider and eyed Hezekiah, who appeared to be waiting for Jenny’s answer.

  “Thank you,” Jenny whispered, trying to keep a straight face, even though Ella Mae did not. She remembered her manners and turned to offer a polite wave to the man, who nodded, seemingly disappointed, but there was a hopeful glint in his eyes.

  “Gut to meet ya. Maybe another time?”

  “Have a nice day!” Jennie practically blurted. And then, when the door was closed, Jenny breathed a sigh of relief. “You saved me!”

  Ella Mae’s grin was mischievous. “You stay right here till he’s gut and gone, if ya’d like.”

  “Believe me, you don’t have to ask twice.” And Jenny thanked the Wise Woman once again.

  Chapter 19

  Jenny followed Ella Mae through the connecting door to her married daughter’s farmhouse. There, she was introduced to Mattie Beiler, who’d only just returned from visiting a sick relative. The woman looked as though she was in her sixties—evidently her husband, David, was the bishop’s much older brother.

  “Mattie’s helped deliver many a baby here locally,” the Wise Woman said.

  “Your mother certainly is a lovely person,” Jenny said as she shook Mattie’s hand and smiled back at Ella Mae.

  “I agree,” replied Mattie. “And her peppermint tea’s not bad, either.”

  They laughed, exchanging glances.

  Like every other Amishwoman Jenny had visited, Mattie offered a treat, along with something to drink. Almost without waiting for their response, Mattie began to pour some hot coffee. “I heard from my sister-in-law Mary—the bishop’s wife—that she’d like you to stay with her three youngest children tomorrow morning, Jenny. She needs to run some errands for a couple of hours.”

  Jenny asked what time she should be over there.

  “Right after breakfast is fine. The bishop’s place is real close to Samuel and Rebecca’s—right across the field, in fact,” Mattie said.

  “Yes, I’ve been there.” Jenny glanced at Ella Mae. “And anyway, I managed to find this house, didn’t I?”

  That brought a chuckle from both women, and the three of them sat down and sipped black coffee and had some fresh-baked oatmeal-and-raisin cookies. A few minutes later, Mattie brought out little cakes topped with coconut, and some tempting butterscotch cookies, too. Jenny was starting to think the women who lived in this house were always either baking or eating!

  “I noticed Hezzy out there talkin’ to ya,” Mattie said, looking right at Jenny. “He’s Mary’s widowed uncle—has a whole passel of children. But he’s just friendly.”

  “He means well,” Ella Mae added, looking tired.

  Jenny wondered if she might have overstayed her welcome. “I should get back to help Rebecca,” she said, smiling her thanks again to Ella Mae. “The goodies were delicious,” she told Mattie. “I’m going to get fat if I keep snacking like this.”

  “Well, have yourself a nice walk back,” Mattie said. “And if Hezzy swings round to catch ya on the road, don’t be timid ’bout talkin’ to him.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, Mattie,” said Ella Mae. “Leave the girl be! She’s just begun her Proving, remember?”

  Mattie was grinning. “Puh! I have my opinion and you have yours, ain’t?”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” replied Ella Mae.

  Jenny laughed, but she wasn’t keen on the idea of going back to the Lapps’ without the covering of a carriage—a place to hide from Hezzy’s very wide grin. If only she’d hurry and learn how to hitch up a horse!

  All the way up Hickory Lane, she was vividly aware of the many carriages and wagons coming and going. She even held her breath as they passed—and was quite relieved when they did.

  Marnie was more than pleased when a letter arrived in the afternoon mail from Roy Flaud. Her heart fluttered to beat the band. Glory be! He’d kindly offered to meet her at her cousin’s wedding on Thursday morning. Marnie could hardly wait to see him again, she missed him so.

  I’d like to talk to you further about the house meeting I mentioned in my earlier note, he’d written toward the middle of the page. Roy went on about how it was something he’d contemplated a lot. I feel we ought to go as an engaged couple . . . making our own choices.

  She read further, realizing that it was just as clear from the rest of the letter that Roy wanted her to reconsider her stance. Maybe he’d best talk to Dat about this, she thought. Dare I even suggest that?

  Roy was so very important to her; she knew without a doubt he loved her. But it was peculiar that he was pushing her this way. She’d pondered more than a few times that he hadn’t been baptized into his Bird-in-Hand church district yet. But then, neither had she joined church in Hickory Hollow, waiting to follow her beau’s lead. Still, being solidly Amish was as serious a matter for Marnie as it was to her parents.

  A shiver ran down her back at the thought of upsetting her father over such a thing. Never! she promised herself, recalling his rage over her older brother’s brief flirtation with the fancy world.

  Rebecca had long since finished grooming Ol’ Molasses. Presently, she made preparations for supper without Jenny’s help, wondering what was keeping her. She continued chopping the onions, celery, and carrots for her thick stew, aware of the vacant spot at the counter where Jenny usually worked. Rebecca pursed her lips to keep them from quivering. What was wrong with her, checking the wall clock every five minutes? Was she already that wrapped up in the seeker?

  She brushed such thoughts aside and tried to focus more on understanding why Jenny had kept her family in the dark about coming here. Was it really because they hold enough sway over her to change her mind? Or is there something else, something she hasn’t yet revealed?

  Rebecca stopped her work to wipe her forehead with a hankie. Goodness, maybe she ought to take to heart Ella Mae’s initial concerns about Jenny’s motives—whatever they might be. Even so, if the young woman was staying in Hickory Hollow only to search for an Amish husband, her demeanor and attitude did not lend itself to those leanings.

  Truth be told, Jenny’s auburn hair and personality were a constant reminder of Katie, who had also left her family to follow her heart. Rebecca’s breath caught in her throat.

  Dearest Katie, living out her days as a Mennonite. Sighing deeply, Rebecca couldn’t help but wonder if
her adopted daughter ever missed her former Amish life, the heritage of her childhood. The life Samuel and I gave her.

  Rebecca gathered up the chopped vegetables from the wooden cutting board and placed them in a large bowl, then added some cubed beef for the stew. Silently, she offered up a plea for Dan and Katie’s return to the church of their families.

  How much longer, O Lord?

  I managed to catch up with my chores as soon as I arrived back from the interesting visit with Ella Mae Zook—and her daughter Mattie Beiler. Dived right into baking some pumpkin walnut bread and twelve dozen chocolate macaroons, which Rebecca plans to take to market tomorrow while I help the bishop’s wife with her youngest children.

  Also, after supper, I helped mend Samuel’s shirts with Rebecca, who didn’t talk as much as she usually does while we worked. I caught her looking at me rather suspiciously once or twice. Is something bothering her?

  And, because I really want my own clothing, instead of wearing Katie’s old dresses, I cut out two—one blue, one green. It was strange, having the house so quiet while I worked in Rebecca’s small sewing room down the hall, but both Samuel and Rebecca seemed extra tired today. Maybe grooming the horse wore Rebecca out, and now, in retrospect, I wish I would have stayed to help her. Such a hardworking woman! Yet I so enjoyed spending time with Ella Mae. I can see why everyone refers to her as the Old Wise Woman.

  As for tomorrow, I’m nervous about taking care of the bishop’s kids, wanting to do everything exactly as Mary wishes. I’ve never cared for the children of someone “anointed by God,” as I’ve heard the People describe the bishop.

  To think I’ve yet to even meet this revered man!

  As often as she committed tomorrow to the Lord, Jenny had difficulty shaking off her apprehension of the man who’d put Katie and her husband under the dreaded veil of the shunning.

  Chapter 20

  Rebecca hardly made eye contact with Jenny during breakfast preparations the next morning, though she was cordial enough. Perhaps she was only tired—Rebecca looked worn out, despite the fact she was typically a whirlwind of energy. Considering this, Jenny felt reluctant to leave the house to help Mary Beiler today, even though Mattie Beiler had said Jenny was expected over at the bishop’s. It seemed strange that Jenny hadn’t heard directly from Mary about this. Was it the Amish way for one person to tell another until the information found its way to the correct set of ears?