Amish House of Secrets

by Samantha Price

  “You lived in the same house all those years? The house in Lancaster County?” Maureen asked.

  Dorothy shook her head. “We lived in Brooklyn. Our plan was that after the war we would get married and settle in that house in Lancaster. We bought the house and put it in my name in case he didn’t make it back from the war. I moved there not long after the war ended and I waited for him there.” Dorothy shook her finger at them. “Don’t think that we were rich or anything, having a big grand house like that. That old house needed work back then, all those years ago. Even so, I struggled with the upkeep for years, hoping that one day he’d come and find me there.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Emma said.

  “All I have of him are the letters. I did have hope, but now I just have the letters.”

  “Did he have any family?” Maureen asked.

  Emma looked at Maureen and knew immediately that Maureen intended to find out what became of Dorothy’s love.

  “He had a brother who died; that’s all.”

  “Friends?”

  “We only had each other. I did have a girlfriend back then, Josephine Cutter, but she disappeared suddenly as soon as the war ended. One day she was here and the next day she wasn’t. We were sharing a flat together and then I was left to pay the whole amount. I had to move.”

  “That seems odd.”

  “Yes, it was very odd. I called ‘round to see her parents and they said she’d moved away. They were always very nice to me, but that day they did not want to speak to me at all. They couldn’t wait for me to leave.”

  “So, you lost your best friend and your fiancé?”

  Dorothy nodded and looked up at the ceiling as if she was trying to fight back tears.

  “Did you have far to travel to go and see your best friend’s parents that day?” Maureen asked

  “Only ten minutes by bus.”

  “Mrs. Welby, do you mind if Emma and I look into things for you to see if we can find your old friend and maybe what happened to Harold?”

  “Oh dear, I don’t know what you’d find.” She looked over at the box. “Is it any trouble for you to look into things?”

  “Not at all, we’d love to help,” Emma said.

  “If he’s alive and has not tried to find me then please don’t tell me. I could not cope with the pain. Only tell me if you find a death record. I’d like to know how he died and where he died.”

  Maureen and Emma agreed. Maureen noticed that there was a picture on the mantelpiece of a soldier in uniform.

  “Is that him then?” Maureen said, standing to look closer at the photo.

  The old lady stood up and walked over to the mantle and handed Maureen the photo. “That’s my Harold.”

  “He looks a very nice man.” Maureen turned the photo to show Emma.

  “Would you like to hear about him?” Without waiting for a response she said, “I will tell you about him. Sit back down, Maureen.”

  Maureen obeyed.

  Dorothy rubbed her face and looked as though she was deep in thought. “Harold…oh yes. He was lost at war, you know, my poor, poor Harold. I miss him so dearly,” she said with a croaky voice. “We met at a dance, before the war started. There were always dances back then, for the wealthy at least. But I got to go because my aunt was wealthy. My aunt’s husband, Roy, was a photographer and he got invited to the most fabulous events. I was allowed to go to a lot of them. What a time that was when dances were held every Saturday night.”

  “How did you two find each other at the dance?” Emma had never been to a dance and wondered how Englischers socialized.

  “I was standing against the wall while my aunt danced with a man she didn’t even know. I was dressed in a full skirt with petticoats, had on my first pair of stilettoes and stockings with the seams down the back.” Dorothy laughed. “I don’t even know if you can get stockings like that these days.”

  “I don’t know if you can,” Emma said.

  “Anyway, I thought I looked good and Harold must have thought so too. He was a handsome man and could have asked any girl to dance, but he asked me. I guess he saw me alone and thought I looked nice because he came up, and pulled me onto the dance floor; he didn’t even ask.” Dorothy’s eyes sparkled.

  “It sounds romantic,” Maureen said.

  “He just whisked me off my feet and pulled me to the floor amongst the other couples. I was shocked at first, too shocked to even speak to him. I remember my face was as bright as a beetroot. But when I saw his smile, I couldn’t help but feel happy. He had the most beautiful eyes, blue as the sky in the summertime.”

  “When did you eventually speak to him?” Emma asked.

  “We hadn’t even talked through the first few dances. But then a slower song came on, so he took my hand and walked me off the dance floor. It was more inappropriate to dance with a stranger to a slow song back then. Today everything is just willy-nilly, no one gives a hoot. But, back then, people had manners, and if you were a man, you courted a woman. Not like it is today at all. People jump into things so quickly today.”

  Dorothy sipped her tea, and then looked at Emma and Maureen. “He would say to me;

  Dorothy, Dorothy, Dorothy,

  How I love thee Dorothy.

  You are a flower, a ray of sun,

  and you make my world so much more fun.

  You make my world seem new just by standing in my view.”

  Emma could feel herself about to giggle, and she daren’t look at Maureen in case she was about to laugh too.

  “That’s lovely,” Maureen said. “You remembered that after all this time?”

  “Yes. He wrote me lots of poetry. He said that he loved me, and I believed him. He meant the world to me for so long. He courted me like a full gentleman, and we did everything together after a time.”

  Dorothy took a drink of water. “But then the war started and being of age, of course, he was drafted. Not even a second thought, he just left to serve his country. He told me how he loved and adored me, and even how the minute he got back he would carry me straight to the chapel and marry me. But he left. He left me alone to worry, for… who knew how long. Harold was mine, and I could not lose him.” The old lady looked across at Emma and Maureen. “War’s a terrible thing, isn’t it?”

  Maureen and Emma nodded in agreement.

  “While he was at war, I wrote him every day and nearly every week I got one back. Every day I worried that he would not come home and when the war ended, he did not come home. I enquired only to be told that he was missing in action. They had to tell me what that meant.”

  “That’s awful for you,” Emma said.

  “I still love him. If only the war hadn’t started, we would still be together.” The old lady cleared her throat. “Listen to me prattling on, thinking of only my woes. You’ve come all this way, all the way from Lancaster County. You ladies are welcome to stay here if you don’t mind sharing a room. I’ve only got one spare bedroom.”

  “No, thank you. That’s very kind of you. We’re staying at a hotel nearby. Before we go, can you tell us all you know about Harold and your friend Josephine Cutter?” Maureen asked.

  “Don’t try and find Josephine. I’m hurt that she just up and went away like that, and I see no reason to speak to her.”

  “Tell us some background information about Josephine then, just so we get a broad picture of how things were back then.” Maureen smiled at Dorothy.

  They stayed for a while longer at Dorothy’s house and when they got back to their hotel Maureen headed straight for the telephone in their room. She phoned Elsa-May and Ettie. “Elsa-May, can you have Ettie find out what she can about Harold Fielding and Josephine Cutter? They would’ve been born in the late or mid twenties. It seems that Harold has never been listed as killed in the war, he was listed as missing in action, but the old lady has not done any recent checks on him. Emma and I are hoping he’s surfaced somewhere.”

  “Will do. Now who’s the woman you mentioned?�
�� Elsa-May asked.

  “Josephine Cutter, she’s an old friend of Dorothy who disappeared not long after the war ended. Josephine just up and disappeared; she was sharing a flat with Dorothy, and Dorothy was left to pay for the flat on her own. That was before Dorothy moved to Lancaster.”

  “To Emma’s new house?” Elsa-May asked.

  “Yes. Dorothy and Harold bought it together, but it was in Dorothy’s name in case he never made it back from the war.”

  “He would have come there to find her then if he had survived the war,” Elsa-May said.

  “Exactly, that’s why Mrs. Welby doesn’t want to know if he’s still alive. She said only tell her if he’s dead. She wants to know how and where he died.”

  “Okay, I’ll get Ettie onto things right away and we’ll phone you back at the hotel.”

  As Maureen hung up the phone, she hoped that she would not find out any bad news. The dear old lady deserved some good news, but it seemed as if the only news she would be getting was knowledge of where Harold had died. At least her mind would be put to rest.

  It appeared Emma was thinking along the same lines. “I don’t see what gut can come of this investigation, Maureen. Maybe we should have kept out of the whole thing. It’s a far stretch of the imagination to think that he might be alive. He would’ve come to find her, or she would have heard of him through a friend or relative.” Emma sighed. “How long do you think it will take Ettie to find something out?”

  Maureen took a deep breath and looked at the digital clock on the bedside table. “It’s 12.30 now. I reckon she’d have some information for us later this afternoon.”

  Chapter 6.

  The same came for a witness,

  to bear witness of the Light,

  that all men through him might believe.

  John 1:7

  Wil walked into his barn and wiped the frustration from his face. He sorted through his tools wondering which ones he should take with him to the new haus. The phone rang, and he hoped it was Emma.

  “Hello?” he answered.

  “Hello, Mr. Jacobson. I have some troubling news for you. It seems that your bank has declined the transaction. I need to see you. When can you come into the office here?”

  The caller had forgotten to say who he was, but Wil recognized him to be the realtor who had sold him the haus. “Um, I’m free right now, if you want me to come there now.”

  “Okay, come straight in.”

  “Alright, I will see you in just a bit.” Wil replaced the receiver on to the hook. His eyes fell to the ground then he shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He had made a mess of things. He had hoped that the money would be through in time, but it was clear that this time things would not work out for him as they had in the past. He’d often gone out on a limb and things had always come right; this time they hadn’t.

  He looked down at his dusty clothes and knew he would have to change into some clean clothes before he went into town. He hurried inside to change, grateful that he already had the buggy hitched and ready to go.

  Once he reached the office the receptionist led him to the realtor’s desk. He sat heavily on the chair behind the desk, not waiting to be asked to have a seat.

  “Hello, Mr. Jacobson. What’s this about the bank not putting the money through?”

  “I need a few more days.”

  “Until you sort it out with your bank, it’s best you give me back the keys to the property.” The realtor leaned forward and put out his hand.

  “But, I’ve already done so much work to the house. It’s already mine; I’ve done a lot of work on it. And Emma, my fiancé, gave me the money to do renovations while she’s on her trip. Why can’t I just keep working on the house until I clear things up with the bank?” Wil knew the only way out of this was to buy time.

  “Mr. Jacobson, I’m just trying to do my job and I’m not doing my job very well if you have the keys in your possession under these circumstances. I took you at your word that this was a cash transaction, and that’s the only reason I let you have the keys early.” The realtor whispered, “If the boss knows I’ve already handed the keys to you, I’ll be in all sorts of strife.” He lifted his eyebrow. “Know what I mean?”

  Wil remained silent, and the realtor continued, “I’ll keep it off the market for a while to give you a bit more time – two days. The money is coming, isn’t it?”

  Wil nodded.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Wil did his best to sound confident.

  “After two days I’ll have to start actively marketing the house again. I won’t stop anyone looking through it if they want to, but I will do my best to stall them.” The realtor frowned at Wil. “Are you borrowing the money?”

  Wil shook his head. “I won’t need to.”

  “But it is coming, from somewhere, isn’t it?”

  Wil nodded. “I already said it would be there.”

  The realtor typed something into his computer. Wil leaned over and tried to see what he typed, but he tilted the screen away from him. “Well, that’s it, let me know as soon as you’ve got the money in the bank.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be in touch.” Wil said as he stood up. Wil knew he should contact Emma directly. He remembered the name of the hotel where she was staying with Maureen, but he decided to wait until she came back, that way she could have a worry free time away.

  As he walked back to his buggy, he felt sick to the stomach about Emma’s money that he’d already spent. What if the money didn’t come through as he’d planned? There was only one thing for it; he’d have to call the company from where he was expecting the money.

  Half an hour later, back in his barn, Wil had finally gotten through to the person with whom he needed to speak. “Mr. Jacobson, sorry that you’ve been given the run-around. I have your plans in front of me.”

  “You do? Do you like the concept?” Wil’s heart was beating so fast and heavily that he thought he might have a heart attack. So much was riding on the answer that he was about to hear.

  “I’m afraid that there would not be enough call for us to manufacture the plough. It would be too costly for us. Maybe you could try a smaller firm; we do things on a large scale. It’s not the kind of thing we’re interested in; people are using machines now for that kind of thing.”

  “I know they’re using machines, but there’s a big movement that’s going in the other direction nowadays. People are moving toward organic farming and don’t want to use machinery,” Wil said.

  “That’s very true. However, they’re still in the minority and it wouldn’t be a wise financial move for us to go with your design. As I said, you may try your luck with a smaller company. We’ll keep your name and address on file if we may?”

  “Certainly, go ahead. And thank you for your time. I appreciate it.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Jacobson.”

  Wil hung up the phone. That was that. He had to tell the realtor that he could not go ahead with the purchase of the house. He would also need to find the words to tell Emma that he not only lost their haus, but he had spent a portion of the money that she had given him.

  * * *

  “Now, to call Wil. I hope he’s near his barn,” Emma said.

  “What are you going to say to him, Emma? Remember, no gut comes from anger.”

  “I’m too numb to be angry Maureen. That was my money he was renovating the house with and now it’s all wasted if the sale isn’t proceeding.”

  Emma called the phone in Wil’s barn, but there was no answer. She remembered the name of Wil’s lawyer, so she called him. The lawyer’s secretary was not going to give over any information, but relented when Emma said that she was Wil’s fiancé and was away and could not reach Wil.

  “Okay, I’ll look up that file.” A minute later the secretary came back to the phone. “It seems that Wil was expecting money to come through, and it didn’t come through in time.”

  “Is that all you can tell me?” Emma asked. After th
e secretary had assured Emma that that was all she could tell her, Emma hung up the phone and looked up at Maureen, who was standing over her. “They said that Wil’s money didn’t come through.”

  “From what?” Maureen asked.

  “I don’t know. Wil won’t talk about his finances. He’s vaguely told me that he has investments and things. I don’t know what they were talking about; what money didn’t come through in time?”

  “Try calling him again,” Maureen said.

  Emma called Wil’s number once more, hoping he’d be near his barn and this time he answered.

  “Emma, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, Wil. I’ve found the old lady who owned the haus, and she said that the sale of her house hasn’t gone through. What happened?”

  “Jah, I’m sorry about that, Emma.”

  “Well, what happened?” Emma didn’t want apologies she wanted answers.

  “I thought I was getting money come through, but it hasn’t come yet.”

  It was the same old vague answers that Wil gave her every time regarding money. She had to pin him down. “What money, and where was it coming from?”

  Wil blew out a deep breath. “You remember that plough I was working on?”

  Emma could not remember, but knew Wil always had several projects that he was working on at the one time. “I vaguely remember.”

  “Well, I sent the plans off to a company and I was hoping they’d buy the plans from me.”

  Emma closed her eyes and pushed her fingers into her forehead. “I don’t understand. Has the firm ever suggested that they might give you money for it?”

  “Nee, not in so many words, but you don’t understand how these things work. I knew someone who sent in a plan for something similar to that same company, and they gave him three hundred thousand dollars for it.”

  Emma knew nothing about business, but the story sounded totally unrealistic to her. “Who was that person, Wil?”

  “I can’t say who, but I distinctly remember someone telling me about it.”

  Emma shook her head. Was Wil going to be like Maureen’s David? At some point in the future would she tell someone the story of Wil and what he’d done – the man she nearly married? “How much of my money have you already spent on the house?”