Heritage of Lancaster County 03 The Reckoning (5 page)

"Ach, but you ain't old," she said cautiousl3; lest he think she was debating him. "Reall?; you ain't."

He turned to her and gave her a broad smile. "S'right kind of ya, Mary."

"Well, it's not just my opinion." Her voice felt fragile, as if it might give out on her.

"Your opinion matters more than ya know."

She was thankful to be sitting down just nou; for she felt the strength drain clean out of her legs--downright weak- kneed as always whenever she was around this man of God. "The smithy's a good callin' for a boy, I'd say," she managed.

"Jah, I tend to agree."

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She was aware of the wind against her bonnet as they neared the town of Bird-in-Hand. It was ever so much like riding through a dream, floating through a familiar yet somewhat hazy world. She found herself holding her breath, lest the ride come to an end and she awaken.

John halted the horse, bringing the carriage to a smooth stop, then excused himself to run into the bank. Watching a man of his years scamper across a parking lot like a colt was a sight to see, to be sure. She thought she might laugh out loud. Oh, joy! Was John feeling the first stirrings of love for her? Did he feel half as giddy as she?

The horse puffed out plumes of warm air from bulging nostrils as Mary waited. Then lickety-split John was back, pushing a bank receipt into his coat pocket. Mary was amused by his rushing to and fro. Whatever the reason, she dared not surmise.., or question. She must be careful lest she jump to conclusions.

"Do ya care for some ice cream?" he asked, almost shyly. "Sounds gut." She couldn't imagine anything colder on such a chilly day, though, and had to keep her face muscles in check so as not to let a chuckle loose.

Up the road a bit, they pulled into a roadside stand. John drove the carriage right up to the order-out window. "Would ya like a chocolate sundae?" He smiled as he asked.

"Jah, with plenty whipped cream and nuts, please." She was awful surprised that he seemed to know her taste in desserts.

He turned to the window and ordered the chocolate sundae for her and a banana split for himself.

The return trip to Hickory Hollow was pleasant enough, but terribly cold by now--what with the ice cream settling in her stomach, frosty and sweet, and a sizable case of nerves--sitting next to the bishop thisaway. Her teeth began to chatter uncontrollably.

"Feelin' a bit chilly, are ya?" Before she could answer, he

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reached back and pulled up another heavy lap robe from the backseat, letting go of the reins in order to place it gently over her legs.

"D-denk-ki," she stuttered, ashamed of herself for not being able to conceal it, yet glad for another layer of warmth.

"I best be gettin' you home."

It was the last thing on earth she wanted to hear. She'd much rather freeze to death than have the ride come to an abrupt end. Still, in spite of her disappointment, she nodded submissively. She thought for sure he'd let her out somewhere away from the house, the way they'd arranged the meeting in the first place. But when nothing was said, even when they passed the familiar shoulder and the grove of trees, her pulse quickened. It looked as though he was really going to drive all the way into the barnyard before letting her out.

Mary folded her mittened hands as the horse made the turn into her father's long lane. Her heart felt ever so soft toward the widower. And when he turned to bid her goodbye, his eyes were filled with tenderness toward her as well.

I'll be seem' ya, Mary, at the meeting tomorrow," he said, tipping his black felt hat like a real gentleman.

"Jah" was what came out. Oh, but she wanted to say so awful much more to the kind and gentle widower. Things such as were not becoming to a quiet, submissive young Amishwoman on the verge of being passed over for marriage. She was smarter than to say anything except, "Denki for the ride.., and the ice cream."

"I hope we might ride again." His eyes brightened as he said, "God be with ya, Mary Stoltzfus."

"And with you." By now, she couldn't even whisper his name at the end. But it was strong in her mind all the same. John Beiler. . .

Despite dark clouds and the lack of sunshine, she

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lieved this to be the most beautiful day the good Lord had likely ever made.

Mary's legs held her up just long enough to push open the back door and rush into the utility room offthe kitchen, collapsing on the old cane chair. Giggling under her breath--trying for all the world to keep from bursting out-- she struggled to remove her shawl and outer bonnet.

Certain that the family would be waiting by the kitchen stove, she took several deep breaths to calm her flutterings. And when her composure was restored, she marched into her rnamma's scrumptious, warm kitchen.

Much to her surprise, nobody was around. "Gut," she said to herself, going to the sink and running water over her cold hands to warm them gradually. In many ways, she was delighted to have the house all to herself. With no one to dampen her spirits by probing too much, she could daydream to her heart's content, reliving every single second of the afternoon's ride.

Strangely enough, her tryst with the bishop had been truly a secret one in every way. Perhaps by Divine Proving- clence.

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After lunch the phone rang at Mayfield Manor. Katherine unconsciously heard the ringing but ignored it, her ears unaccustomed to the newfangled device. She checked the address on the envelope once more. Seeing the words Hickory Hollow Lane, a tiny burst of air flew past her lips. How odd-- kariyos, she thought, Pennsylvania Dutch invading her thought freely.

Many weeks had come and gone since she'd spoken much of the Old German dialect. It would be impossible to forget her first-ever language, she figured, yet with no other Amish around, she wondered if her native tongue would lie dormant in her brain. Not that she was worried about it. No, she was more concerned these days with learning how to put words and phrases together in a more sophisticated manner. Especially now that she was seeing the likes of Justin Wirth and wanted--for his sake, if for no other--to become a refined English lady.

One of the young maids came to her French doors, standing between them, giving a quick curtsy. "Miss Katherine, a Mister Wirth is on the line.., for you."

"I'll take it in here, thank you." She hurried to the phone, surprised that he was calling her so soon. My goodness, she'd

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just seen him last night! "Hello?"

"Katherine, how are you today?"

"Fine, thank you. How are you?"

"Never better." His voice held a hint of intrigue. "I wonder if you might join me for dinner Sunday evening. I know of an elegant, quiet place not far from Canandaigua. An old castle."

She could hardly believe he was asking her again. "It sounds lovely."

"Shall I come for you about five-thirty?" he asked politely.

"Five-thirty is fine with me." She felt so terribly unsure of herself. "Good-bye" came out a mite too quickly she feared, yet Justin's farewell sounded altogether pleasant... almost sweet. The sound of his lilting voice rang in her memory as she set about gathering her coat and a stamp for Mary's letter.

When Theodore pulled the car up for her he was wearing a mischievous grin. "Your wish is my command," he said as he opened the back door.

"The post office, please."

"Right away, miss." He closed the door and walked around to the driver's side.

All the way downtown they talked--chatted, really. At

one point she asked, "Why are you so happy today?" "Can't a chauffeur be jolly now and again?" "Why, of course!"

He glanced over his shoulder. "I must say, it's quite delightful seeing you so chipper, Miss Katherine."

She wondered about his comment. "Do you think I should be more sober.., in mourning for Laura?"

"Oh my, no. I didn't mean that at all."

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She didn't dare mention Justin and their dinner plans. Theodore, being the older gentleman he was, might not think it proper for such gaiety so soon after Laura's funeral. Sighing, she settled back for the short ride to town. The limousine was pure luxury and the drive as smooth as vanilla pudding.

"Warm enough for you, Miss Katherine?" asked Theodore at a red light.

Pointing her finger, she wagged it at him. "I'm plenty warm, but remember, don't call me 'miss' again, or I'll..." She paused. "Let's see, how could I possibly threaten you?"

He chuckled, tilting his head and glancing through the windshield at the falling snow. "Well no; you could taunt me with a norther on top of this white stuff. In fact, that just might be what's in store for us. Take a look at that sky."

She did as he said, surprised that the snow was descending on them at such a fast rate--a cloudburst of flakes. "Sup-

pose we do get snowbound like Rosie said?"

"What of it?"

"Well, are there plenty of candles in the mansion?" "Always."

"And the pantry. Is it well stocked?"

"That's been taken care of," he assured her.

"What about firewood? Anyone thought of chopping a pile just in case the electricity goes off?."

He shrugged his shoulders. "If I remember correctly, more than two cords of wood were delivered back in early fall."

She couldn't help chuckling. "Just might be you fancy folk could take a lesson or two from an Amish girl. A former Amish girl, that is."

Theodore seemed to ignore her mistake. "Well, you may be right about that." He turned the car into the post office parking lot. "Here we are, Katherine ... without the 'miss.' "

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"Thank you, Theodore, minus the 'sir.' "

He grinned, tipping his chauffeur's hat. "Let's keep it that way, shall we?"

She agreed, handing the letter to him to be mailed, mighty glad that she could stay snug and warm inside the beautiful car. She thought of her brothers--Elam, Eli, and Benjamin. Wouldn't they be flabbergasted to see her riding in such a fancy automobile? Why, she even wondered if such a vehicle might not tempt one of them to have a ride. Or worse.

"Probably not Elam, though," she whispered to herself, thinking better of it. Her married brother was much too straight-laced to think of straying from the Ordnung. His young wife, too. Puh, there'd be no getting either Elam or Annie and their new baby inside a car like this.

She watched for Theodore's return, thinking that if she ever did go back for a visit to Hickory Hollow, it would be to see her mamma--shunning or no--and she'd take Theodore along to drive her around. Oh, she wouldn't be flaunting her new station in life, nothing like that. But she'd show the People, especially that bishop of theirs, that no matter how badly they'd treated her, they could never squelch her adventuresome spirit.

Back in his room at the B&B, Dan Fisher dialed the long- distance number, using his calling card. The receptionist for the New Jersey drafting office answered.

"Hello? May I speak to Owen Hess, please?" he asked. The secretary patched him through without hesitation.

"Dan, good to hear from you" came the familiar voice. "How's everything up north?"

He smiled, relieved that he hadn't told his boss the specific nature of his trip. "Nothing more to be done here," he

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said. "I'll catch a flight the minute I check out."

"Glad you called, Dan. God bless you."

Owen's comment rang in his ears as they hung up. "God bless you." He needed to hear such words, especially on a day like today. Thankful that he had placed his faith and trust fully in the Lord Jesus years ago, he packed his personal belongings, scanning the suite for any stray items. Setting his suitcase by the door, he went to make one more phone call before checking out. He would have to arrange for a change in flight schedules before driving to the airport.

After making the call, he headed downstairs with his luggage. This was to have been an ecstatic moment in his life, a glorious reunion day with his swee:heart girl. He was leaving town without ever having seen Katie's sweet face-- enduring the butler's horrendous slurs instead.

The owner's wife looked surprised to see him. "Oh, Mr. Fisher, you're leaving us so soon?"

"Yes, well, I hope this won't be an inconvenience for you. My stay has been shortened considerably, but I appreciate your kind hospitality and will offer to pay for an additional night if it means that I might return in good standing--if ever the need may arise, that is." He had no idea why he'd said such a thing. There would be no returning to this place. His Katie girl was gone--flown the coop.

The woman dismissed his offer with a nod of her head. "You mustn't pay a cent more than is due. But be sure to sign our guest book before you leave."

With that, Dan paid for a night's lodging, said his farewells, and rolled his luggage outside to the rental car, his heart as heavy as the snow clouds.

As he pulled out, he noticed the young girl and her mother making the turn into the parking area. They smiled and waved back, setting his mind on course for a replay of the morning's events, beginning with breakfast and the curiosity over his Amish background.

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Once his luggage was checked in at the airport, Dan was free to sit and rest a bit. Emotionally exhausted, he found himself wishing he'd never made the trip. Not the way things had turned out for him--the closed doors, the overwhelming disappointment, the not knowing where Katie had gone in New York City, or why.

What's left to do? he wondered. It made no sense to pursue her, searching hundreds of talent agencies. The idea that she might be interested in such a lifestyle--that sort of vo- cation-had him truly perplexed.

Dear Lord, be with Katie, wherever she may be, he prayed silently. Then, to keep from dwelling on the most worrisome aspects of the butler's comments--that Katie was a phony and had caused such mayhem--Dan went to purchase a paper at the newsstand.

Forcing his attention to the minuscule newspaper in his hand, he studied the front page. Anything to keep his thoughts from wandering back to the disheartening encounter.

It was on the society page that he spotted a curious cap tion. Young Amish Woman, Sole Heir of Loca! Estate. Reading further, he began to mumble the words as he searched the page. "Katie," he said suddenly. "Katie is Katherine May field!"