Secret, The

by Beverly Lewis

  On the porch, the wind suddenly gusted, and the rain became a real downpour, forcing me inside, lest I “catch my death,” as Mamma used to warn—back when things were a bit calmer under our roof. Yet even then, there was a charged atmosphere, a buildup to our present storm.

  Retreating to my room, I wrapped up in a cozy afghan and enjoyed looking at Becky’s recent drawing of three hummingbirds. I traced the outline of the smallest one and imagined it coming to life, hovering near Mamma’s feeders out back. I’d always wondered why I was so keen on these delicate birds, and now I thought I knew. It was much more than their freedom of flight; it was their persistent search for the sweetness that sustained them.

  I found myself reciting a stanza from a poem Mamma had taught me from one of the McGuffey’s Readers.

  Quickly, I opened my dresser drawer and reached for the journal presented to me on my birthday. Filled with an unexpected sense of hope, I wrote the beautiful words from “April Day.”

  The very earth, the steamy air,

  Is all with fragrance rife!

  And grace and beauty everywhere

  Are flushing into life.

  I held my pen and again studied my friend’s lovely drawing. Becky’s ongoing friendship is ever so dear.

  Eventually, I dressed for bed and then brushed my hair. Mandy called softly from across the hall, and I hurried to meet her—going and sitting on her bed for a while, before time to outen the lanterns. Together we joined our hearts in earnest prayer for our mother, just as we do each and every night, waiting not so patiently for her return.

  Acknowledgments

  Creating a new series is always a special beginning—the joy of the fresh slate of characters and their circumstances. The Secret is not based on any particular true story or life event shared by any of my Amish friends or Plain relatives. It is rather the collective story of countless women who have given up a child at birth to adoption, either willingly or otherwise. Lettie Byler’s heartrending journey, and her daughter Grace’s response to it, is particularly dear to my heart as an adoptive mother.

  During the writing of this novel, numerous people offered their assistance and encouragement. Their input is so essential that they really deserve their own paragraph!

  My ongoing thanks to my husband, Dave, who loves the brainstorming process as much as I do. And to our daughter Julie, who lives and breathes my first drafts and is, thankfully, not reticent to point out embarrassing mistakes!

  I offer heartfelt appreciation to my outstanding editorial team and reviewers—David Horton, Rochelle Glöege, Julie Klassen, Ann Parrish, and Jolene Steffer.

  Thanks also to my clever cousin Kendra Verhage, an artist in her own right, for naming the Bylers’ beloved mare, Willow, during Thanksgiving last year—so much fun! And to her sweet mother, my auntie Judy, who offered prayerful support during the final weeks of my writing deadline.

  To my astute and ever helpful consultants in Lancaster County—both Plain and English—your prompt responses still astonish me and are a great blessing. Also, many thanks to Barbara Birch, proofreader extraordinaire. And to John Hen-derson, as well as the Mennonite Information Center and the Lancaster Historical Society.

  To Carolene Robinson and Sandi Heisler, dear friends and medical consultants, your insight and knowledge are vital to this series. Thank you!

  For the faithful prayers and quick feedback to title ideas, I send not-so-cyber hugs to Dave and Janet Buchwalter, Debra Larsen, Donna De For, Bob and Aleta Hirschberg, Iris Jones, Jeanne Pallos, Barbara and Lizzie, and to my own little grand-girls, who say the sweetest prayers. And, last, though he should be first, I give my love to my dear dad. Your prayers are precious!

  All honor and praise to our heavenly Father, Creator and ultimate Mender of broken hearts, without whom no story would be possible.