Heritage of Lancaster County 03 The Reckoning (23 page)

Ella Mae reined in her wandering thoughts and got into the book real deep, turning one page after another, laughing here and there, imagining herself doing just what the B&B owner had done.

The pages captured and held her interest until she

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drifted off not quite knowing when it happened or if she'd read through to the end of the book. But when she awoke with a start, she found the book half covering her face, open to a page toward the back.

"Dear me," she mumbled, sitting up. "Wonder what time it could be."

She listened, hearing voices in the main house. David and Mattie were home. She wouldn't call out to them, she decided. She'd sit, silent as a snipe, and wait for the report of the Preachin' service she'd missed.

Katherine was excited about the upcoming trip to Toronto, although she wasn't sure why. She had only the vaguest idea of what to expect from such a trip. Time to talk and share each other's goals and hopes for the future was high on her list.

"I'm thinking of painting your Songbird quilt when it's finished," Justin said as they rode along the highway, heading north. "I think it will be a unique approach to art."

She was surprised. "I never would have thought of such a thing, but it sounds interesting."

Justin turned and winked at her. "Think about it. When have you ever seen a rendering of an Amish quilt on can-

was?"

It was an absolutely wonderful idea. Katherine could hardly wait for him to begin, but the quilt itself had to be completed before Justin could paint it. And there was the matter of the hospice bazaar. "How will it work--if the quilt's going to be sold in a few weeks?"

"Oh," he said, frowning. "I hadn't thought of that." They discussed his exciting idea, thinking of various ways to approach the problem. Katherine suggested taking a photograph, but Justin didn't think he could capture the

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essence of the quilt from a photo. Finally, Katherine said, "Maybe you could sketch the pattern ahead of time. You could come to my quilting class and begin a pencil drawing as we work."

He nodded, grinning. "Splendid idea!"

She didn't say so, but she was thrilled at his response. Having Justin come to the mansion two or three hours on Wednesday and Friday evenings would be delightful. She was glad she'd thought of it.

The first few hours in Toronto were spent locating one particular cathedral, then taking photographs of it for Justin's file. Katherine enjoyed watching him angle the poses with his expensive camera, but most of all, the trip gave her ample time with her Beau.

While there, she began composing a letter to Mary, anxious to tell her about her new love and inquiring about life in Hickory Hollow.

By the time they returned to Canandaigta, she realized how much she had enjoyed Justin's company. So much that she had not thought of Dan Fisher. Not even once.

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Days and weeks sped by, and with the delicate shifting of the season to summer, Katherine began to enjoy the warmer weather, though the temperatures weren't nearly as hot as she remembered them in southeastern Pennsylvania--not for late June. Still, she had plenty of picnics out-of-doors, several with her new friends--Rachel Es|er and her sisters-- and two barbecues for the terminally ill patients at the hospice.

And there was a steak fry for two. She and Justin had spread out a blanket on the south lawn near the lily pond, behind the mansion, enjoying the birds and sky and laughing softly. They talked about anything that came to mind, then sat quietly, reveling in the warmth of the still air and the music of nature. To top off the day, Justin had presented her with a delicate gold locket in the shape of a heart, which she'd worn ever since.

The quilts--the Ninepatch and the Country Songbird-- were long since completed, with the expert help of her Amish friends. Justin's painting of a colorful quilt flapping on a clothesline, as well as his version of Niagara Falls in full moonlight, left exhibitors standing wide-eyed and Katherine herself in awe of his talent.

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She couldn't imagine a life more blissful. Yet she found herself thinking of Mary's letters almost daily, even discussed her concern with Justin one evening as they ate apple pie and ice cream on the screened-in, second-floor balcony high above the estate grounds.

"Mary seem, ed almost reluctant to mention her marriage to John," she said, recalling the letter that had come the week after Easter. "I hope she isn't worried that marrying the bishop will change our friendship."

Justin's eyes were intent on her. "Mary means a lot to you, doesn't she, darling?"

"We're as close as sisters."

"The way I see it, if the shunning didn't keep the two of you apart, neither will a new husband."

"I hope not." She described for him the bishop's severe course of action once it was clear that she was not going to confess--about not having destroyed the guitar.

"Sometimes people change," he said, his soothing voice attempting to console her.

"You don't know John Beiler."

"No, but I know what love can do, especFally for an unfeeling sort of man." He continued on, telling her about one of his uncles on his mother's side. "The man was the harshest fellow you'd ever want to meet. Even young children shied away from him. Dogs cowered, cats hissed .... "

She thought about that. "What made him change?" Justin smiled. "It may be hard to believe, but I think for him it had to do with finding the right woman, though I wouldn't say the perfect mate is always going to alter someone's bad behavior. In the case of my uncle, though, it did."

She pondered Justin's true-life story. Hard as she tried to imagine it, Mary's patient, loving ways would never be apt to transform the bishop of Hickory Hollow, not entirely. Yet the more she thought about Mary married to John, the more she suspected that her friend was the force behind the

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lifting of the talking aspect of the shunning. Surely that was the truth.

For the first time in many weeks, she thought of Dan. How severely had John Beiler shunned him?

: :.'. :.

Mary didn't have time to go out and get the mail--not a minute to spare--until nearly four o'clock. By the time she wiped her hands on a towel and ran outside barefooted, it was almost time for afternoon milking. 'Course Hickory John, Nancy, and Levi were probably already out in the barn bringing in the cows. No need to be frettin' over that chore. Bishop John's children pretty much knew what to do and when to do it. Just keeping up with the mountains of laundry, the constant cleaning and cooking, and whatnot all, left Mary near breathless most days. Still, she wouldn't have gone back to being a single lady for all the world. Her life revolved around her husband and his children, and if anyone had asked, she would've declared she was the happiest woman alive!

Now with summer in full swing, she was worn to a frazzle, so hot and humid it was. Fanning herself with a hankie, she sat down to catch her breath and read a letter from her rich and fancy girlfriend.

Tuesday, June 30

Dearest Mary,

Will you be happy for me if I tell you that I think I know who I'm going to marry? His name is Justin Wirth, and he's an artist--paints beautiful oil paintings. I don't remember when I've ever been so happy, Mary. Honestly, it's strange this feeling I have about Justin. We talk for hours about most anything, even personal things these days. I'm so glad that I can share this with you freely and

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do hope that you won't worry about my future with an F.nglischer.

I don't know how you'll be able to come for my wedding though I'd feel completely lost if you weren't here to share my joy. Do you think John would consent to let you ride the bus?

When I look at the sky, I never see a single cloud--even when they're scattered everywhere! Oh, Mary, did you feel this way when first you fell in love with John? Did you?

More than anything, I wish I might're witnessed your vows, seeing the precious little Beiler children gathered all about you there in Preacher Zook ' s front room. How sweet that they could share the special day with both you and the bishop. Although I have written this before, I will repeat that I have no hard feelings about you ending up with John. I trust he treats you with the kind of love that you deserue, my dear friend.

Forever and always, Katherine

The porch swing creaked a long time after Mary finished reading. Pushing her bare toes against the wooden floor, she sat quietly, taking in the cornfield across the road while Katie's letter lay in her lap. She remembered the summer days of her childhood, growing up with Katie Lapp--the girl with all the adventuresome ideas. Like the time they played hidey-seek in the cornfield, the stalks being so thick and all, neither of them could find the other. By dinnertime, she was gut and lost.., and crying her eyes out.

She had to smile a little, thinking back to what Samuel Lapp had said about Katie playing in the cornfield with her girlfriend. "Best be careful, girls." He'd looked mighty serious, almost worried. " 'Tis a gut way to get yourselves harvested."

Of course, they'd burst out laughing at what he'd said,

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and he had, too. But Mary never let Katie talk her into playing in the corn again.

She sighed, ignoring the flies and several mewing barn cats looking for a handout. Katie was gonna marry a right fancy artist, she said in her letter. Sure sounded like she was just gonna forget all about her Plain upbringing, keep on turning her back on redemption, and be right contented with her new English life.

Mary sighed so hard she pushed all her wind out, then all of a sudden realized that Jacob was hollering for her out back. Quickly, she returned the letter to its linen envelope and hurried down the porch steps, around the side of the house, past her pansy garden, and to the barnyard to see what on earth was ailing her stepson. Later on, when she had time to sit a spell, she would read the letter again--and decide what, if anything, she could do about it.

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Along toward the end of July, the lima beans were coming on mighty strong--and the ripest red Early Girl tomatoes a body ever did see. A group of women sat under the elm tree at Mattie's place, bIicking--shelling limas--and slapping at mosquitoes.

"What's anybody hear about our wayward girl?" asked Ella Mae, sitting in a chaise lounge, doing her share of work.

Mary looked over at her and shook her head gloomily. "Last she wrote--oh, several weeks back--she was planning on gettin' married."

"Married?" said Ella Mae.

"Jah."

Rebecca started hacking, another one of her coughing fits, so Rachel Stoltzfus went inside to get her a glass of water. Meanwhile, Lydia went over and sat beside Rebecca, patting her lightly on the back. "Don't you worry now, the Lord's got His hand on your girl's life," the Mennonite woman was saying, trying to soothe the distraught mother.

"But... but she never wrote a thing about it... to me," Rebecca sputtered.

All eyes were on Mary, since she seemed to be the one

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with the most recent news. "She says she's in love with an artist."

"Well, what's his name, for pity's sake?" Ella Mae spoke up, wishing she didn't feel so upset and hoping it didn't show.

"Justin Wirth," Mary replied. "A nice enough Englischer, I 'spect."

"Puh!" Ella Mae didn't like the sound of it. Wh> the girl had up and gone ferhoodled, for sure and for certain. 'Course 'twasn't the first time. She thought of Katie and the day she'd run off from her wedding to Bishop John. Such a case she was--all fiery tempered. Impulsive, too.

While the women talked about other things--topics unrelated to shunnings and disobedient offspring--Ella Mae fumed. Ach, she hated hearing that Katie was so awful con- fused--and she'd have to be to contemplate marriage to anyone but the boy she was meant for. The one and only fella who could make her heart sing.

She was feeling real tired now.--not her fingers, from hulling limas, as much as her eyes, drowsy from the heat and humidity. She fought off snoozing like a stubborn child long past bedtime, forcing her mind to ponder the somber and complicated story of Dan and Katie, miles apart.

Her head felt right dizzy now, yet she tried to shake it off, wondering if it was a warning sign--that she might be close to having another stroke. What if I died today? she thought. Would I hear the Lord say, "Well done, thou faithful servan t" ?

She felt sick all over. Still, she kept hulling limas, not wanting to call attention to herself. She thought of the Peo- ple--ach, she'd failed her loved ones and friends all these years. All these years...

Her whole life had been given over to kindly works, compassionate deeds. She'd leaned her ear to a gut many folk in the Hollow--more than she could ever begin to

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count. That was all well and gut, yet she knew she'd betrayed them, hadn't given them what their hearts yearned for: the Good News of Jesus Christ.

An orange and yellow butterfly flew over the heads of the women, lighting on Mary's shoulder briefly, though the bishop's young bride never noticed. But the Wise Woman did, and nature's caress--and the confidence in her heart-- got her thinking about miracles and such, and what she could do to change things. If it just wasn't too late.

Lydia stayed awhile after the Amishwomen left. While the other guests retrieved their horses from the barn and hitched them back up to the buggies, Lydia helped Mattie take Ella Mae indoors and get her settled in a rocking chair in the front room--even though Ella Mae said she preferred to sit outside on the front porch. Mattie thought it was time her mother stayed inside for the evening and told Ella Mae so, and the older woman didn't seem to mind too much.

Lydia sat down, talking softly about the day with her

Amish friend. "We got a good many limas done."

"Jah, we did."

"And lots of catching up, too." She meant that they'd gossiped plenty.

Ella Mae nodded, but her thoughts seemed to be off somewhere else.

"You all right?" she asked.

"Ach, Lyddie, I never wanted to hide my light under a bushel basket. Never, ever," Ella Mae blurted, her eyes filling with tears.