Heritage of Lancaster County 03 The Reckoning (6 page)

Slamming the paper shut, he rushed back to the flight counter and made arrangements to have his luggage retained. Without delay, he ran all the way to the front of the airport terminal, hailed a cab, and sped away to Mayfield Manor.

: : :

After the brief stop at the post office, Katherine found herself daydreaming about her Sunday plans. An elegant dinner for two, Justin had said. A castle setting...

57

Such events required anything but Plain clothing: rather, fanciful, shimmering dresses of satin and lace or embroidered velvet. And an array of accessories. Rosie had been willing to assist her on a recent shopping expedition, offering her opinion of Katherine's purchases at a local department store.

Since her first real date in over five years, Katherine had pondered her attraction to the artist. Yesterday she'd indulged herself a bit, curling up by the fire at the coziest end of the library to think about the possibility of a future with the likable young man.

A short time had passed since their first meeting--Christmas Day. The handsome blue-eyed artist had come to the mansion, commissioned by Laura as a portrait painter. He was much more than good-looking. He was sensitive and kind--an honest man. She admired such wonderful-good qualities in a person. Perhaps because the same characteristics had been so evident in her dear Daniel. Dan... who'd shared her love for music and the guitar, who'd put up with her headstrong, impulsive ways, yet loved her still. If he hadn't drowned, she was sure they would be married by now. With several children, no doubt. As sure as the sun. Sure as the moon, too.

Dan Fisher, forever adored by the People. Forever missed by his Katie girl, the woman who'd mourned his passing far longer than need be. Longer, because she believed the two of them had really and truly belonged together, had found utter joy in discovering each other's heart.

Now there was someone else. Someone who was alive. Two social events in two days. Ach, Rebecca Lapp would say such a fella had courtship on his mind. Snuggling against the backseat, Katherine grinned, hugging herself.

"Looks like you may have some company," Theodore said, his voice startling her out of her reverie. He nodded his head at a taxicab parked in front of the main entrance.

58

Katherine could see just the back of a tall blond man wearing a dark overcoat as he stood at the doorway. She also noticed Fulton, his arms crossed at his chest as if annoyed. "I wonder if it's the same fellow who was here earlier looking for that horrible woman, that actress who--"

"Allow me to spare you a run-in with such a man," Theodore said, pulling the limousine around the side of the house. He turned, looking over his shoulder, his eyes kindly searching hers. "You won't mind going in through the east doorway, will you?"

Nodding, she gave her consent. "It's not like I haven't used this entrance before." She remembered the unnerving time when she'd slipped into the mansion, sight unseen, hoping to find her birth mother still alive.

"Very well, miss.., uh, excuse me, Katherine. I'll let you out here." He parked the limo and got out, hurrying around the car to open her door for her. The snow was piling up quickly and because of it, the chauffeur accompanied her, his hand supporting her elbow, right up to the entrance.

"Thank you, Theodore. You're so very kind." She offered him a warm smile and quickly entered the house, stomping the snow off her feet before heading into the main hallway, still wearing her coat and hat.

Approaching the grand staircase, she heard voices--the measured, low tones of men arguing but doing it politely. Curious, she peered down the long hallway and saw Fulton standing like a sentry in the doorway, a human barrier. If she wasn't mistaken, he was doing most of the talking, quizzing the stranger with many questions.

She stopped to listen. Studying what she could see of the caller and making note of his overcoat, she was fairly certain it was the same man she had seen earlier that morning. Inching closer, she focused on his thick hair--just visible over Fulton's head. It was striking, like a thousand dandelions in summer. Something about its golden color reminded her of

59

someone back in Pennsylvania. A schoolmate? One of her cousins? She couldn't be sure, probably because she had so many relatives, distant and otherwise.

Beyond the two men, the snow was falling fast and heavy. Like someone had cut open a feather pillow and was shaking it hard, creating an intermittent curtain of white.

She heard her name and a sharp response from her butler. "I cannot allow you to see the mistress if you refuse to state who you are or the nature of your visit," came the curt reply.

By now Katherine had crept close enough to make out the stranger's words. "Miss Mayfield is a dear friend of mine."

"I'd be surprised at that," Fulton shot back. "You said the same thing about Katie Lapp earlier today."

"But... I plead with you, let me speak with Katherine. Let her decide for herself."

Katherine fell against the wall, stunned by an impossible thought. The soft-spoken voice seemed as familiar to her as her own. Yet it could not be.

Fulton began to push the door closed. "I'm sorry, sir. Once again, I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Wait!" Katherine called, taking a step forward. "Please . . won't you let the man in, just for a moment?"

Fulton's eyebrows arched in a pinnacle of astonishment. "Miss? Are you quite certain of this?"

"He says he knows me... and it's all right," she assured him, barely breathing. "I'll meet with the gentleman in the parlor."

The butler was blinking his eyes rapid fire, but nonetheless he opened the door wider and showed the man inside.

Katherine stepped back and turned toward the hallway mirror, not looking at the young man as Fulton showed him into the formal sitting room. Rosie hastened down the hall to her, offering to take Katherine's coat and hat. "Oh, thank

60

you, Rosie. I nearly forgot." Her mouth felt terribly dry, her lips stiff.

Turning back toward the mirror, she stared in it, straightening her sweater and fluffing her hair with trembling fingers, but seeing little. Stepping back, she took a deep breath and entered the parlor with a forced smile.

Fulton and the stranger remained standing as Katherine made her way across the room, past polished tables and numerous Victorian-style chairs and a cherrywood love seat upholstered in powder blue velvet.

"Sir," the butler said, turning to the stranger briefly, "may I present Miss Katherine Mayfield."

The man stepped forward to reach past Fulton, his hand extended. "Hello, Miss Mayfield."

Reluctantly, she accepted his hand, her mind reeling as she stared into his rich blue eyes. "And you are?" She

waited, hardly daring to hear the reply.

"An old friend" was all he said.

Katherine nodded to Fulton. "Thank you. That will be all," she said, relieved to have remembered the proper words, the ones Rosie and the others had taught her. In that at least she found comfort.

"Please, be seated," she said, motioning stiffly toward the love seat. She clung to the security of the formalities, feeling as though she were in the middle of a terrible, confusing dream.

"Thank you . . . but I don't mean to take up much of your time." He seemed reticent to sit, awkward now that he was finally alone with her. He remained standing for a moment, then perching on the edge of the love seat, he examined her face. It was as if he might possibly be mistaken about ever really knowing her at all.

His voice dropped to a whisper. "I've been waiting for a long time to see you again, Katie." He studied her, a flicker

61

of a flown crossing his brow again and again. "Perhaps it is too late," he added.

"Oh?" She, too, was staring at his face, his eyes, still unable to comprehend what she thought she was seeing.

"Perhaps you should sit down," she heard him say. Trembling, she lowered herself into a chair. The sensation was akin to floating through a muddled dream. A most outlandish dream.

Himmel, what was happening to her mind? Was she losing her sanity? This man reminded her of Daniel... but it couldn't be!

"I hesitate to go on," he said softly, gently, his words falling like raindrops on a rose petal. "I don't want to frighten you. I know you believe that I died five years ago."

She caught her breath, searching his face. "I don't understand. Who are you?"

He paused, his face intent on hers. "I'm Daniel... from Hickory Hollow."

A pain stabbed her. "Daniel? But Daniel Fisher drowned at sea." Her eyes searched his. She struggled to breathe, a hundred memories whirling in her mind. "I . . . I..." Her voice caught on a sob. "I don't know what to say."

"Please don't say anything, Katie. Let me explain."

She could hear him no longer, could feel the wrenching, black disbelief, the confusion. Looking away, a knot in her stomach twisted and churned.

Even so, her gaze was drawn back to his bearded face, his modern haircut. Most everything about him reminded her of Daniel. The blueberry eyes, the golden hair, the gentle voice. Especially the voice.

She held her breath for a moment, then spoke, barely able to utter the words. "How... can you be... alive?"

He paused, inhaling deeply, his eyes finding hers. "I never drowned, Katie. I made a terrible mistake."

She choked back tears, refusing to let them take over.

62

She found the courage to speak. "A mistake? You let me think you died?"

He bowed his head. "I don't blame you for being upset." She clenched her fists in her lap. "How do I know you're really Daniel?"

Wincing, he looked up at her as if to recall times and dates.., grasping for something, anything. It was then that a lightness came into his eyes. "Do you remember the day we sat on the boulder--our boulder--there in the middle of Weaver's Creek? I taught you to write music that day."

She folded her arms across the front of her, as if protecting herself from the reality of this unbelievable moment.

"I gave you my guitar. You hid it in your father's barn .. in the hayloft."

Shaking uncontrollably, she glanced away, wishing she might hold herself together against the incredible truth, the torturing pain of remembered love, the mounting hurt and anger of having been deceived.

"Oh, Katie, I've missed you terribly.., all these years." She drew in a sharp breath. "I'm Katherine now. Katherine Mayfield."

He sighed, nodding his head slowly. "Annie told me about your adoption, that you'd left Hickory Hollow after the bishop imposed your shunning--that you'd gone in search of your birth mother. But it was old Ella Mae who was brave enough to tell me where to look for you."

She turned her face toward him. "So ... you've been back to see the People?"

"Only to speak with my father and mother ... and Annie." He stopped, as if there was much more to his story than he dared offer.

Her eyes found his, her heart breaking anew. "The Daniel I knew said he loved me. He said, 'No matter what happens...' " Her eyes filled with angry tears. "That Daniel would never have tricked me this way."

63

"That's why I came here. To ask your forgiveness." He stood up, rushing to her side. "I can explain everything."

"What's to tell?" she said, her voice rising without restraint. "You fooled me, Daniel . . . you broke my heart. I never thought I could live life without you. You let me grieve until I was so sick the People worried that I might never be well, and here you are--coming to me this way?"

He knelt before her. "I wish I could turn the clock back, Katie, truly I do. I should've taken you away with me."

She shook her head. "The past is done. Should have's never solved anything."

His eyes glistened, but he was silent.

"I'm not the girl you once loved." She stood up abruptly, the pain of their past, the burning anger consuming her. "I wish you'd never come here."

He was on his feet. "Katie... I--"

"No more. Please, I can't talk about this." Her hands flew to her face, hiding her tears, muting her sobs.

She felt his hand on her shoulder. "Oh, Katie, I'm so very sorry."

"Please... will you go?" she whispered, stepping away. And with all the energy she could muster, she called for her butler. The click of Fulton's shoes on the floor brought her some relief. Fulton would handle things now. He would take care of her.

Daniel looked back at her once more as the butler stood in the wide doorway. "I never meant for this visit to cause you pain, Katie. God be with you."

Silently, helplessly, their eyes met and held.

Fulton wasted no time in leading the man to the door, and Katherine turned and fled to her suite.

64

65

Daniel's return from the "dead" was all Hickory Hollow could think about, and all Mattie Beiler could talk about following dinner, when dusk lingered about the old farmhouse deep in the Iqollow. She'd gone so far as to say that the young man was "of the devil"--him and his deceitful ways--running off to New Jersey somewheres to rub shoulders with them Englischers.

Glancing at her mother, the elderly Ella Mae, Mattie spoke up again. "Goodness knows Dan Fisher broke his mamma's heart.., letting her think he was dead and gone."

"Ach, don'tcha be judgin' him so," Ella Mae chided, looking up from her knitting with a stern gaze. "The poor fella knows what it means to suffer."

"Poor fella, my left foot!" Mattie scoffed, scooting her chair closer to the woodstove in the kitchen. "He brought his pain on himself, don'tcha know?" She bit her tongue, waiting for her Mare to strike out in defense of the likable lad. Rocking hard against the hand-hewn rocker, she gripped the thick-eyed needle and her handiwork, mumbling in disgust.

Her mother remained still, yet Mattie kept looking over at her, hoping the Wise Woman might size things up from

66

her own perspective and add a little spice to the conversation.

Seconds passed, empty and unfulfilling. Mattie itched, nay longed to stoke the fires of discussion. Fidgeting, she could scarcely sit by and watch a perfectly good evening go to waste.