Heritage of Lancaster County 03 The Reckoning (22 page)

Dan picked up his fork and lit in to the food his sister had been so kind to set out for him. Elam made an awkward grunt and left the room. Daniel ate in silence and Annie sat quietly; the only noise in the room came from the little one making contented sucking sounds.

"I suppose you found Katie already," Annie said softly, without looking at him.

He sighed, wiping his mouth with the paper napkin. "Turned out she didn't want to be found."

Annie's eyes were on him now. "She's a right hard one to figure."

He nodded. "She's Katherine Mayfield now . . . lives in a mansion. Even has a houseful of servants looking after her." He was thinking of the dutiful butler he'd encountered at the front door.

"I can't imagine Katie livin' that way--right fancy and

all."

"You wouldn't be so shocked to see her, Annie. Under all those nice clothes, there's still a girl from Hickory Hollow. You'd recognize her. I know you would."

"What's she gonna do up there all alone?" asked Annie, rocking hard.

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"The Lord's up there in New York, too. Same as He is with you and Elam and little Daniel. Prayer can change things for Katie. You'll see."

"Then what about you?" she asked, casting a disparaging look at him. "When's God gonna answer my prayers and bring you back home?"

He knew he shouldn't start to defend his beliefs. Not now. Not here in Elam's house. His prayers for his loved ones would be more effective than anything he could say on his first visit back since the shunning.

When it came time to say good-bye, tears welled up in Annie's eyes. "Ach, I miss ya so, Daniel. Come back to the People. We could use another gut pair of hands here in the Hollow." She reminded him that their father was getting up in years, that Dat could use more help than he was already getting.

"Sure, I'd love to come home, but I can't." His soul-deep need for family--the loved ones he'd grown up with--re- mained ever strong, yet he resisted explaining why he could never return to the Amish church.

She clung to him, and he hugged her hard, leaning his cheek down against her devotional kapp. "I love you, Annie."

"The People are ever so anxious to hear your confession. Please... don't wait too long" was her soft reply.

Elam didn't wave at him when Dan turned to go to the car. He stayed inside with the baby.

It was Annie who followed him down the back walk to his car. "Won'tcha think about it, Dan?"

"I've done all I can possibly do. The Lord's in control of my life now." He said the words, though he knew she might not comprehend.

"Will ya come again?"

He nodded, waving. "Take good care of my nephew." That brought a smile. "Good-bye, Daniel."

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Getting in the car, he turned the ignition. The engine roared to life, and his last glimpse of Annie was of her closing the back door, eyes cast down as if she might cry again. Then she was gone.

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With Katherine's help, Selig baked up another batch of Mississippi Mud for the quilting class. Mrs. Esler and her daugh- ters-Rachel, Ruth, Nancy, and Anna--arrived by horse and buggy about six o'clock.

Standing at the window in the drawing room, Katherine watched as Rachel Esler helped her mother out of the buggy, followed by the other girls. One unhitched the horse and tied him to the fence post in the grassy area on the far side of the driveway.

She remembered the first time she'd ever taken a harness off a horse, the feel of the warm leather in her hands. It was a heavy chore for a young girl, so Dat had helped her. Still, something about the memory made her miss Satin Boy, her first-ever pony. She sincerely hoped her mild-mannered pet was adjusting all right without her, that Benjamin was taking good care of him.

Noticing that the group of Amishwomen was now heading toward the house, Katherine moved away from the draped window and hurried across the room to the grand entryway, to be ready when the doorbell rang.

"Please, come in and make yourself at home," she said,

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greeting Mrs. Esler once again, as well as the two daughters she'd met at the gift shop.

Rachel introduced her older sisters, Nancy and Anna. "They were awful excited to come and see your mansion," she added.

"And here you are," said Katherine as the butler took their wraps. "Would you like to see the place?"

Shyly, the sisters nodded their heads. "Well, come along, then." And she signaled for Fulton to assist with the tour.

The evening turned out to be one of the most joyous ones she'd spent at the mansion--much laughter and storytelling and, of course, the delicious Mississippi Mud dessert and various flavors of coffees served up by Selig and Garrett.

Mrs. Esler and her daughters were a cheerful addition to the quilting class. In fact, in many ways, the five of them helped Katherine teach the others. All in all, it was a night of hard work and fun mixed together in one delightful package of inspiration and relaxation.

"We'll come again next Wednesday," said Mrs. Esler as they prepared to leave.

"Good Friday's a fast day for us," Rachel explained. Katherine recalled that the Amish in Hickory Hollow also observed the day as a prayerful one. "Maybe we won't work on the quilt Good Friday, either," she spoke up, and Rosie, Leoma, and the other non-Amish women agreed.

When she returned to her private sitting room, Katherine found herself reflecting on Mrs. Esler and her girls. Their patient, agreeable way with English folk struck her as appealing, and she truly hoped that her housemaids and the entire domestic staff felt the same ab0ut her. Before she dressed for bed, she decided that she, too, would fast and pray come Good Frida3,, just like her new friends.

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It was the bluest, clearest day of April. Each breath Mary took in was as sweet as could be, for it was her wedding day. And the day before Easter, of all things.

She and Bishop John had agreed that they'd get married in SummerHill, not but a few miles from Hickory Hollow, across the highway, up Snake Road, out past Hunsecker Mill Bridge, and on over to Preacher Zook's church district. It made right-gut sense to Mary, too. After all, John had already been through his share of wedding services, the last of which had turned into a miserable day for all concerned. No sense going to all the trouble of a full-blown wedding. Besides, it being the wrong season for a wedding in Lancaster County, this was the best way.

The children--all five of them--rode to Preacher Zook's big farmhouse with them in the enclosed buggy. The day was warmer than any she'd experienced in ages, and because of the springtime weather, Mary thought it must surely be a good sign. She could only hope that it was, for she'd waited her whole life long for this one, special day.

She turned to look over her shoulder at the bishop's children, sitting so tall and straight, going to their Daed's wedding. I hope I can be a wonderful-gut Mamma to them, she thought almost sadly, ever so sorry for the lonely years they'd been without Miriam, their dear mother--John's first wife.

When it came time for her to say "jah," promising to be loyal to John Beiler, to care for him in all hardship, affliction, illness, weakness, or faintheartedness, her heart opened up with great love and compassion for this man. She would show him the kind of affection that he deserved, no matter that he'd shunned her dearest and best friend. No matter that he was thought of as a rigid, standhafi bishop. Sure as the dawn, she desired to love him, to serve him, to be his faithful wife till the day she died.

After the short ceremony, Nancy and Susie both kissed

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her cheek. Hickory John, Levi, and young Jacob shook her hand, but Jacob sneaked in a quick hug when no one was looking. "I've got me a mamma now," he said, then scampered off to play outside with Preacher Zook's children.

Mary had to smile. "And I've got me a family of my own," she whispered, watching as Jacob's little legs carried him across the barnyard.

Turning back to her handsome husband, she wondered how on earth she could break this news to Katie, especially now. She'd heard from Annie Lapp that Dan had been in town last Sunday, and from what he'd told his sister, the poor lad was heartsick over Katie--not being received too well by her and all.

Was it the right thing to share her joyous news, let Katie know that her friend had found true happiness right here in Hickory Hollow? Because it sounded, for all the world, as if there was someone awful sad and alone up there in New York.

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On Easter morning, Katherine arose early and hurried to the closet. She slipped into her warmest robe and house slippers, then scurried to the kitchen at the other end of the house. Gut! No one was about.

Opening the refrigerator, she took out the square plastic box the florist had delivered to her yesterday afternoon. Eager to see the lovely corsage without being observed, she decided to take it to her suite. Back in the privacy of her own room, she opened the lid and lifted the delicate arrangement of tiny pink rosebuds and a sprig of the daintiest baby's breath she'd ever seen. The fragrance was as pure as any rose her Amish mamma had ever grown in the family rose garden. Maybe all the sweeter because it came from Justin.

The card that had arrived with the corsage had thrilled her upon first reading it. Wishing you an Easter filled with love. Yours always, Justin. Even more thrilling was the fact that he would be sitting beside her in church!

Written in his own hand, the words now delighted her once again, and she savored the prospect of a lovely day.

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Outside, the air was warm and breezy, and the sky was as blue as a robin's egg, with not a hint of rain. A perfect Easter Sunday. Justin drove her to church in his own car, and she was secretly glad they could talk without being overheard by a chauffeur.

Glorious music, both choral and organ, filled the church before and after the sermon. Katherine battled thoughts of Dan upon hearing the offertory--Hallelujah, What A Savior!--a hymn she'd sung at some of the livelier Singings at SummerHill get-togethers during her teen years. But she couldn't allow anything or anyone to spoil her day with Justin, and she tilted her head slightly to breathe in the sweet scent of the flowers pinned to her cream-colored linen blazer. Glancing down, she smoothed her tea-length floral skirt, marveling again at the feel of the lovely fabric, so unlike the coarse and heavy homespun dresses of the past.

She daydreamed periodically during the sermon, though she wouldn't have wanted to admit it to a soul, this being a house of worship. Yet she had difficulty keeping her eyes fixed on the pulpit, so preoccupied was she in scanning the sanctuary and thinking how nice it would be co have her and Justin's wedding here. A candlelight service . . . in the fall. Yes, that's what she would like. Her vows to Justin should take place at dawn, just as the earth held its breath, awaiting the sun's rays; the emerging of little birds from their nests, the mist hugging the trees at the gossamer first light of daybreak.

She glanced at Justin to her left, wondering if he, too, might be thinking similar thoughts. He caught her eye and smiled, then reached for her hand. Katherine's heart beat a bit faster, and she hoped he would kiss her again, sometime today. Easter Sunday... after dinner perhaps.

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"Ach, I've never missed an Easter Sunday Preachin' in

all my born days," Ella Mae complained, her speech still

awkward.

"It's out of the question, Mamma."

"But I'm feelin' gut already."

"Sorry, Mam. You best stay home today."

She wanted to fuss some more, make a bigger bother

about not getting to go to Preaching, but she knew by the determined look on Mattie's face, not to mention the frustrated sighs, that her daughter wasn't going to budge an inch.

"You've had a bad stroke, for goodness' sake," Mattie

said, straightening the quilt at the bottom of the bed.

"I won't enjoy being' alone." Her final attempt at guilt.

There was no reply, though, and she figured Mattie was trying to make a point by shuffling out of the room and down the hall.

The house was mighty quiet with everybody gone over

to Jake and Becky Zook's--her son and daughter-in-law's place. Ella Mae felt just awful about it, missing out on Easter the first time ever. "I oughta up and die," she said, chuckling a bit. "Would serve 'em right for leavin' me behind like this."

She didn't feel quite bad enough to die, though. With all

that exercising of arms and legs her friends and relatives were insisting on doing, she was actually improving, even getting her speech back little by little. And best of all her mobility.

Scooting herself up in bed, she reached behind her and

folded her pillows in half to support her back. It would do her good to read away the hours, help pass the time till David and Mattie returned. 'Course, they wouldn't be so unthinking as to stay for the common meal after the sermons. No, they'd come on home, and Mattie would fix up some cold cuts, maybe even warm up some potato soup. Jah, she'd like that just fine.

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The book she chose to read was one Lydia Miller had brought over just yesterday. Lydia had always been a faithful friend, but here lately--ever since Ella Mae's stroke--the dear girl had come nearly every day, bringing flowers from an English florist or her own homemade soups or an occasional book. Goodies, too. Jah, Lydia knew what made her smile.

The book she held in her hands was far different than anything she'd ever read. It was a small book, told from an Amishwoman's viewpoint, about how she witnessed to the folk who came to her bed-and-breakfast establishment. Ella Mae had to smile when she read the prologue, describing the real-life woman. It seemed downright uncanny that something like that was going on right here in Lancaster County. Maybe because she'd thought of doing something very much like it, back years ago.

As it turned out, she'd opened her heart and her hearth to many a weary soul, eventually relinquishing the idea of an Amish B&B. Still, she found the reading irJ teresting--oh, so true. The woman, who'd assumed a pen name, had the right idea. A wonderful-gut idea it was to pas along the love of the Lord. 'Course, she didn't suppose the woman had to contend with such a strict bishop as John Beiler. But from what she knew of marriage, she figured the bishop was long overdue for some tender, loving care. Maybe just the thing to soften him up some. She only hoped that young Mary was up to the task of keeping a husband happy and five rnun- der--oh, so lively--children well fed. Still, if anyone could do it, she s'pected plump and perty Mary Stoltzfus was the one for the job.