The Telling

by Beverly Lewis

  The eyes of her heart had led her home. To Judah...

  Her husband removed his suspenders, humming all the while. The contents of her hope chest were the last thing she cared to think about this night. Once she was settled into bed, Judah carried the Good Book from the dresser.

  When he sat on his side of the bed, he took her letter from the Bible and opened it. “These gave me hope while you were gone.” He tapped the Bible, then her folded letter, looking at her with tender eyes. “I’m grateful to God you’re home, Lettie.”

  She felt her own heart fill anew with gratefulness at his words. And when Judah reached for her hand and raised it to his lips, she immediately warmed to his touch.

  Grace stood at her bedroom window, contemplating the day and Mamma’s homecoming . If someone had once told her she’d be pondering an older half sister she’d never known, she would’ve said they were ferhoodled .

  Is she still living in Ohio... this sister Mamma kept such a secret?

  She raised the window, needing the breeze on her face. Curious about the child Mamma had given away, she breathed in the rain-fresh fragrance and wondered if the young woman was as strong-willed as Mamma had always been. And Mammi Adah, too.

  It made her tremble to think her mother might have to own up publicly about her long-ago baby. Becky and her parents and older brothers will be there... and Yonnie and his parents, too.

  She went to sit on her bed, tapping her fingers over the quilt pattern. “Is Mamma up to confessing?” To think Mamma hadn’t even told Dat about the baby till her return! Had she feared he’d refuse to let her search for her long-lost child? If so, was that reason enough to keep mum all those years, then leave so unexpectedly?

  By keeping quiet, Mamma misled Dat terribly... lied to him every day of their married life, she thought. Which makes Dat’s forgiving her now all the more precious.

  Leaning back on the bed, Grace crossed her arms behind her head and watched the shadowy flickers on the wall, thinking again of Yonnie. She squeezed her eyes shut and remembered their walk along Mill Creek. Is it possible I like him more than I even know?

  She asked God for an understanding heart – to know what part she should take as a voting church member when Mamma declared her guilt. I don’t want to be a stumbling block, O Lord.

  Beginning to rest more easily, Grace thought presently of her recent visit with Becky. Hearing her friend describe the fun she’d had with Henry at the pond had been an eye-opener! That, and seeing the joy-light in her friend’s eyes as she talked of her new beau – for surely Henry was that. Even so, it was hard to imagine him courting Becky. To think Henry actually talks to her!

  It was not as hard, however, to picture what it might be like to be courted by Yonnie. Or maybe she shouldn’t let herself imagine that. Grace rolled over and let out a little groan, wishing she knew her own heart.

  The glimpses she’d caught of Dat’s and Mamma’s affection today surprised her. Were they falling in love again? Could it be? Had her mother married out of convenience, as she’d accidently overheard Dawdi Jakob and Mammi Adah indicate more than a week ago in the privacy of their kitchen?

  Just then a crack of thunder shook the house. Another late-night thunderstorm. Grace sat up quickly and peered out the window from her perch on the bed. “Maybe I need a lightning rod to protect my heart,” she whispered as she intently watched the sky.

  After a time, she went to her dresser, where the gas lamp burned brightly. She found the beautiful, clear marble-sized stone from Yonnie. Turning it over in her hand, she felt its coolness, its lovely smoothness, and dreamed of the sea. What would it be like to watch the tide move in against the sand? Or to smell sea salt in the air... to feel the spray of waves on her skin?

  Will I ever know?

  Once the storm subsided, Grace tiptoed across the hall to join Mandy in saying their bedtime prayers. Together, they’d beseeched the Lord nearly every night for Mamma’s safety and her return, missing only the evenings when Mandy was out with her new beau.

  Grace knelt silently beside the bed, next to her sister, and each took turns thanking God for answering their prayers. All the while Grace remembered how desperate she’d felt, though never wanting it to show – for her family’s sake. Trying to be brave... always hopeful.

  Afterward Mandy hugged her and whispered, “Things are best when Mamma’s home, ain’t so?”

  Grace tearfully agreed.

  Long after their mutual prayers, Grace took her time talking to God in the stillness of her own room, asking for divine wisdom for Mamma as she offered repentance before the People.

  Grace had to reject the temptation to fret. Instead, she would box up her fears and hand them over to her all-wise and all-knowing heavenly Father, whose love encompassed them all. After all, hadn’t the Lord prompted Mamma to be willing to repent openly? Wasn’t that His divine will?

  God had also softened her parents’ hearts toward each other, by bringing Mamma home and in opening Dat’s loving arms. The Lord was at work in her family... and she must rely on His will and way, no matter how problematic their present situation might seem.

  twenty-five

  With nine siblings, Lettie should’ve guessed her sisters would be the first to drop by Thursday morning, staggering their visits over the space of a few hours. Their calls were punctuated by those of more than a half dozen nieces, several cousins, and three sisters-in-law.

  “The grapevine’s workin’ overtime, I daresay,” her sister Mary Beth said, grinning as she carried in a hamper filled with food.

  Older sister Lavina nodded cheerfully. “There’s a salmon loaf in there, made with rice. We cooked up lots of roast, too. Gravy for the roast is separate and all ready to heat up.” Lavina also set several containers of chocolate chip cookies on the kitchen table. “We can’t stay long – we’re makin’ hay today.”

  Mary Beth said they were doing the same. “But we’ll come again soon.”

  “I understand... and thanks ever so much for your thoughtfulness,” Lettie said between hugs, both glad and embarrassed to see so many of her extended family coming and going. Aside from the occasional furtive look, it was akin to a reunion. They’re scrutinizing me... but can I blame them?

  Later, when the house was not so bustling, she sat at the kitchen table and dashed off a note to Cousin Hallie, letting her know she was home. Hard as it was, I’ve now told Judah – and our children – about the daughter I gave up. Please keep praying for peace to fill our hearts... especially on the day of the next Preaching service, one week from this Lord’s Day.

  Lettie went on to note that the family was well, and a few other bits of local news she knew her cousin would appreciate hearing.

  I’m so thankful for the time I could spend with you and Ben. Remember you’re always welcome to visit anytime. Write when

  you can.

  With love from your cousin, Lettie.

  When she finished, she thought of writing to Susan Kempf, but there was work to be done in the garden. Grace was working at Eli’s part of the day, so it was just Mandy and herself.

  Lettie quickly addressed the envelope to Hallie and realized, as she glanced around the kitchen, she was still finding her place in a house that had managed to run quite well without her. A bit unsettling, but Mamm would say it was a compliment to her mothering skills.

  She left the letter on the corner cupboard, planning to take it to the mailbox later. Then she headed outdoors to help Mandy hoe and weed the vegetable garden.

  About an hour later, when she was washing her hands at the kitchen sink, she heard Mamm calling to her from the hallway. “Come on over,” Lettie called.

  Her mother appeared, hanging back a bit. “Guess I’m still getting used to havin’ ya home.”

  “Well,” she said, “I s’pose I am, too.”

  Mamm went to sit at the foot of the table and leaned forward on her elbows. “Marian’s itchin’ to put up jam a week from tomorrow. Told her I’d be happy to make it
in my kitchen.”

  “Sounds just fine. Anyone else want to join us?”

  “Sally Smucker does.”

  “Then it’ll be the six of us, counting Grace and Mandy. If Grace doesn’t have other plans,” Lettie added.

  Mamm looked up at her. “Ah, our Gracie.” She sighed. “I’ve never said a peep before, but are you fine with her workin’ for Englischers like Janet Puckett?”

  “Frankly, the world’s squeezing in around us, Mamm, and movin’ closer all the time.” Their eyes met. “Janet’s a good woman, and Gracie comes in contact with English customers at Eli’s all the time.” Lettie sighed. “We can’t shield her, ya know.”

  “Well, at least she’s already joined church.”

  Lettie straightened her apron and went to sit with Mamm. “She joined so young... even before I did as a youth, remember?”

  Mamm’s eyes widened. It was clear she remembered, all right.

  “Still, makin’ the church vow is only part of what makes someone right with God and the People.”

  Mamm agreed. “And Grace, well, she surely lives up to her name.”

  “I’m thankful for that,” Lettie said softly.

  “Well, if you’re up for coming, I’ll organize things for the jam-making next week.” Mamm said. “Maybe Mandy can help me wash the canning jars and whatnot beforehand.”

  “Sure, and we’ll all be out in the strawberry patch first thing Friday morning.”

  “We can eat the firmest ones for supper,” Mamm suggested.

  “And use the bigger ones for jam.”

  Mamm nodded but her eyes reflected her weariness. No doubt from all the wondering and waiting, Lettie presumed, still aware of the lingering ache in her own heart. Ach, such a bittersweet time of reunion!

  From her window Heather saw several patients having a short break after their classes that morning. Three were strolling along the creek below the formal lawn, and two others were milling around the rose gardens. One woman linked arms with another, which put a lump in Heather’s throat.

  We’re all in the thick of it now.

  She wondered if any of the others felt as weak as she did. After the hot and cold showers, the nausea had hit her hard. It might be a textbook response to a cleanse, but it still felt perfectly miserable. To think Heather had hoped she might not experience much of a reaction.

  Boy, was I wrong! She shivered as she headed back to bed, unable to get warm as she curled into a tight ball beneath the sheet and lightweight blanket. She was aware of her pounding pulse, and in her heightened anxiety and discomfort, she wondered if she might be dying.

  How can anyone feel like this and survive?

  The intense nausea made her weaker than any bout of stomach flu she’d ever experienced. Every time she raised her head, the room began to spin rapidly, competing with the violent churning of her stomach.

  She lay there, gripping the pillow and moaning. Squeezing her eyes tight, she clenched her teeth and tried with everything in her to regain control. But thoughts of her deceased mother swam in her dizzy head, causing hot tears to trickle toward her ears. Oh, Mom... I wish you were here to help me.

  She contemplated her master’s thesis, sadly unfinished. Of course, she hadn’t really expected to wrap it up this summer, but its incomplete state evoked further anxiety. If she died today, she’d never complete her graduate degree... never see her academic dreams fulfilled.

  Unable to relax, a list of must-do’s formed in Heather’s head – other things she wanted to accomplish: land a great-paying job, buy her own place, tuck money away for the future. A future that might not exist...

  Suddenly she was startled by a vision of her young Amish mother, a mere teenager dressed in the style of clothing she’d seen in Ohio. This unfamiliar likeness collided with her earlier recollection of her modern, adoptive mother.

  Heather tried to make sense of the contradictory collage in her mind as the two images merged into one vague apparition. And, just as quickly, the two began to separate and her adoptive mom’s face reappeared – she looked healthy and whole – leaving the other filmy and featureless. What played most strongly in Heather’s mind was the fact that if she died now, she would never meet the Amishwoman who’d given her life.

  I’ll be dead and gone before we have a chance to find each other. She was seized by an urgency unlike any she’d ever known. Has she even looked for me, God?

  Gasping for air, she rolled to her left side, just as LaVyrle had said to do when nauseous. But even the change in position made no difference. If anything, the pain was increasing, along with her irrational thoughts.

  If she hadn’t felt so deathly ill, Heather wouldn’t have been thinking in such morose tones. Was it the release of toxins that was producing these crying jags... even her depression? Can that also make me suddenly want to locate my biological parents?

  She tried to shrug it off, but try as she might, she could not dismiss this new, unforeseen desire. Her mind was in turmoil over her Plain origins and the very real likelihood of never connecting with her natural mother. Such a strange and perplexing fear! For the first time in her life, Heather literally yearned to find her original family, and above all, the woman who’d given birth to her. Before today, such thoughts had felt somehow awkward. Even as a little girl, whenever she had thought in passing of her biological parents out of mere curiosity, she had quickly pushed the interest aside for love of her adoptive parents.

  Was this longing due to the cleanse... or to the seriousness of her illness? Whatever its source, she was determined to act on it – if only she could find the strength. Another wave of nausea overtook her, and Heather clutched her stomach and willed the pain away. How much more can I tolerate?

  She made an attempt to double up the covers for additional warmth but was fearful to raise her head in case she lost consciousness. Instead she leaned up slightly to scan the room, hoping to spot another blanket. It can’t be so chilly this close to June... my body’s thermostat must be completely out of whack.

  When Arielle came to check on her, Heather felt too hazy to explain what was happening, except to point to her stomach, indicating pain. She wanted to vomit.

  “Continue resting, Heather, and I’ll give you some peppermint essential oil – three small drops in a cup of warm water will settle things,” Arielle suggested, coming to stand near her bed. “You’ll need to sip it slowly and keep it away from your eyes. It’s quite potent and can sting a bit.”

  “Why do I feel like this?” LaVyrle’s instruction had flown right out of her head.

  “Most likely the pain is due to the dying yeast and other unfriendly intestinal bacteria. Remember, your body’s cleaning house.” Arielle explained that yeast was “an opportunistic parasite. It’s a friendly environment for cancer cells.”

  Trying to be polite in the midst of her pain, Heather struggled to keep her eyes open, willing herself to understand what was happening.

  “Your body’s in fight mode, just as it should be – cancer is a very real battle,” Arielle told her. Her expression was gentle, caring. “The goal is for your body to become inhospitable to cancer cells.”

  Heather made an attempt to nod her head in response to what she was hearing, but right now she wasn’t sure who was going

  to win.

  “We have to work with our bodies to fight the disease.” Arielle smiled down at her. “I’ll run and get that peppermint oil for you, okay?”

  “Thanks.” Please hurry, thought Heather, thinking again of her mom. If she prayed for me... why couldn’t I pray for myself now?

  Lying there, she reached gingerly for her iPhone on the table near the bed. She wasn’t the best pray-er on the planet, but her friend Jim was. Maybe he would agree to talk to God for her. But when she tried to key in a text message, she couldn’t see the letters due to wooziness. The phone fell, clattering, to the floor, and she was too weak to reach for it.

  The thought of losing her ability to connect with Jim or anyone in
her address book – despite the fact Arielle was coming right back – put Heather in a panic. I don’t want to die like this, God. Please don’t let me die alone!

  twenty-six

  Martin Puckett was pleased the day was warm and sunny. Two very talkative Amish carpenters were his passengers today, telling humorous stories about filling silo and shoeing horses. He’d also heard much about the “Englisher building the Amish house” – enough that his curiosity was piqued. Today he hoped to finally meet Roan Nelson himself at the house site, where Martin was presently heading.

  When he pulled up, he noticed several men already on the site. Two were Amish; the other two were not.

  The forms had already been set into place for the foundation. Once it was poured and cured, the house could literally be framed within days. He’d observed barn raisings and Amish farmers supplementing their income by building gazebos and toolsheds. But this would be the first time he had seen them build a house up close.

  Early on, when Roan Nelson first purchased the property, he’d had a driveway put in on the north side, carefully avoiding the mature trees. Somebody’s on the ball. Martin respected home builders who didn’t tamper with nature.

  “Here we are,” he said, pulling onto the shoulder. An attractive-looking tan Camry was parked nearby. He assumed it was Roan’s as he got out and went around to open the van door to let out his passengers, accepting the cash payments as they exited.

  When he asked Josiah Smucker, the preacher-carpenter, to point out Roan Nelson, Josiah replied, “That’s him over yonder, standin’ near the foundation.”

  “Thanks.” Martin closed the door and walked toward the Virginia man. “Hello, I’m Martin Puckett.... I drive the Amish for a living. I’ll be bringing a lot of the men here each day.” He shook the well-dressed man’s hand. “Josiah says you’re in charge.”