Upon A Winter's Night (25 page)

“Can I ask you something, too?”

Bess looked a bit worried at that, but she said, “Sure. Ask away. Politicians are good at answering questions, you know.”

“You said once that Sandra Myerson talked to Connor but not to you when she came to your tree farm.”

“Did I?”

“That’s what I understood. But someone told me you talked to her, too, and got kind of angry with her. I know that’s secondhand information, but why did—”

“Yes, my girl, I did talk to her. Because of my high profile, I just didn’t want to be mentioned among the dozens she ticked off around here. I told her to quit nosing around, especially with the Amish, that’s all. So, who came up with that information for you?”

“Someone who interviewed several workers, I guess.”

“Lydia, if that someone was Roy Manning, I will still believe you that you’re not the one who told him about Connor spraying trees, even though Connor says you caught him at it and had the motive that he’s not been nice to you for years. Or if you tell me it was Sandra who told Manning—she seemed to know too much about most things—I’ll believe that, too. You were taken in by her. Maybe Josh, too. I don’t mean you weren’t taken in by Josh but that he was taken in by her.”

They stared unspeaking into each other’s eyes a moment. Bess believed her, yet was still on Connor’s side. Well, of course, she would defend her son. Lydia heard in her words a silent challenge not to ask more questions, but one thing comforted her. Whatever people thought of politicians these days, Bess obviously believed in and cherished the most important things—love and trust.

“You’d best get going,” Bess said. “I didn’t mean to keep you, but I want you to know, Connor’s opinions aside, you are always welcome here—at least when I’m around.”

Lydia drank a bit of the coffee she’d almost forgotten about and stood. “Does that mean I’m welcome when you’re in the governor’s mansion and the White House someday, too?” she asked with a little smile.

Bess, who had seemed so tense, smiled back and gave her that one-armed hug around her shoulders as they walked out of the office and down the hall. Lydia blinked at the brightness of the kitchen with its draperies pulled way open. The entire house seemed lit by the sun glinting off the snow outside, so why was Bess’s office kept so dim with the curtains pulled? She’d said she was waiting for someone to help her plan a campaign, and the driveway passed right outside her office windows so she could watch for a car.

They said goodbye, and Lydia climbed into her buggy just as a big black car pulled past her and a man got out. Oh, one of the two who had been talking about Bess running for a higher office at Victoria’s funeral luncheon.

Lydia turned Flower around by the attached garage and started past the house again. Bess had already taken her visitor inside. Lydia caught a movement in the house as Bess evidently pulled her office drapes open. Her face was turned away, so she must be talking already. But it was hard to really see her because there were shelves, lots of them, in front of the windows. Lydia gasped and twisted her neck to look back as Flower pulled the buggy forward. Now that the drapes were no longer drawn, sun poured into the gleaming windows of the office. And there, not only on the windowsills, but on the shelves, were rows and rows of different-size, shining snow globes.

25

A
t the store, Lydia hated to seem uninterested or unfriendly, but she was afraid she was going to cry or completely break down. So she just nodded, waved and blazed her way right through the busy back workshop at the store, then made straight for
Daad
’s
 
office, where she planned to lock herself in until she got control again.

It must be pure coincidence, of course, but Bess Stark collected snow globes, ones she might have tried to keep Lydia from noticing. And
Daad
had said years ago when he gave her the snow globe from her birth mother that... Oh, no. Bess as her birth mother—that could never be.

The door to
Daad
’s
 
office stood open. Not Gid in here again, she prayed. She didn’t want to face him now when she needed to be alone.

It wasn’t Gid. Marta Kurtz, who usually helped her husband clean the store showroom and offices at night, was dusting. Her mop leaned against the open door as if to let folks know she was busy inside. Marta was a very hard and fast worker. Only her brain worked a little slow.

“Oh! Lydia. I thought you weren’t in yet. So I’d get this done, all nice and neat for you. Our buggy horse was took sick last night. We couldn’t get here to clean, had to deworm him. When I came in, Mr. Reich was working in here, too. He was surprised I was here early, but it couldn’t be helped with the horse all sick.”

“I understand,” Lydia told her, trying to keep from bursting into tears in front of the girl. Gid had been in
Daad
’s
 
office again. Was it on the up-and-up? “So what was Mr. Reich doing in here when you surprised him? He works so hard.”

“Oh, going through that bottom desk drawer,” she said, pointing. “Left it partly open in his hurry but I closed it. I keep things neat and tidy.”

“You sure do. We appreciate your work here and we’ll be sure you get your special Christmas envelope. So did Mr. Reich look like he found what he wanted? Did he take something with him?”

“First, he tells me to get out, then said I could stay. He took a little skinny file with him. Still, I’ll bet he was looking for a big one. I think he keeps your
daad
’s
 
files real nice.”

Dust rag in hand, Marta kept edging toward the door and her mop. “I can just get caught up tonight,” she said.

“That will be fine.
Danki,
Marta.”

The girl went out and closed the door. Lydia went over to lock it. Though she’d promised herself a good cry, she went directly to the drawer Gid must have been rifling through, sat in
Daad
’s
 
chair, opened the file and pulled out folder after folder and fingered through them.

It sounded like Marta must have seen Gid going through files at other times. With
Daad
out of the way for now, was he searching for something special? And if he’d been through other drawers—
I think he keeps your
daad’
s files real nice,
Marta had said—was he just trying to secretly learn how her father organized his information and ran the business, or was there something else?

“A waste of time, a dead end,” she said aloud as she pulled out the last folder in the drawer, this one under
W
and marked Workers. She went through it and found nothing unusual. But as she sighed and started to refile it she saw a folder had either slipped flat to the bottom of the drawer or been placed that way under all the rest. It was plain beige manila like the others and unmarked. Maybe it was even empty.

But no, it contained several pieces of paper in
Daad
’s
 
tight handwriting.

She gasped and skimmed the first page, then the second. No wonder Gid was desperately searching through these files. Her father’s notes were dated quite recently, from late October on. It looked as if he’d been keeping a list of large projects—church pews for a new Baptist Church nearby; a large dining room set for a hotel in Columbus; an entire array of shelves and cabinets for a store specializing in men’s clothes. And for each of those accounts, her father had recorded an amount of money—several hundred dollars each time that
Daad
had noted as missing. And in each case, G.R.—Gid Reich?—had arranged and overseen the deal. It had to be. No one else had those initials here.

Lydia sucked in a breath through flared nostrils. Bess’s snow globes—well, ridiculous to think they were tied to her own pitiful, broken one. But now this. Could the trusted Gid, heir to the throne, as Ray-Lynn had once put it, have been siphoning off money? Embezzling from large accounts where the missing funds wouldn’t be noticed like in small orders? And if Gid suspected
Daad
was on to him, would that be motive enough not only to search his files but to mess up his blood pressure pills?
Daad
had evidently brought them with him to the store once or twice. And if her father thought Gid was guilty, maybe that’s why he’d let up on pushing her toward the man as much.

She shuffled quickly through the few other papers
Daad
had evidently meant to hide. Sammy’s obituary from
The Budget.
Maybe he kept that here rather than at home, where
Mamm
could find it and get upset. A copy of the very article for David and Lena Brand that she and Sandra had found from the
Wooster Daily Record!
So wasn’t that proof they were her real parents? And a last sheet, handwritten, but not in
Daad
’s tight script.

This note was in large writing with fancy loops on some letters. It was addressed to
Sweetheart Sol,
but it wasn’t in
Mamm
’s
 
handwriting. Surely, her father had not been untrue to his marriage, however unhappy her parents obviously were.

Sweetheart Sol,

Let’s meet out past the pond again after dark! Ah, the forbidden seems so sweet. The entire earth comes alive when we’re together. You help to heal me, and I don’t feel so alone anymore. Forbidden love but wonderful love!

Your Bessie

Lydia gaped at the worn paper, the faded words. Bessie? Bess Keller Stark? Sure, there were other Bessies around here, even a couple of Amish girls she could think of. And if Victoria Keller was known as Vicky by her family, couldn’t Elizabeth, or Bess, have been called Bessie? Or if
Daad
and this woman had an affair, maybe it was his pet name for her. This note sure must have meant a lot to him since he’d dared to keep it a long time, for the paper was old and worn—it looked as if it had been often handled. Did it mean he’d been untrue to
Mamm
or was it before they were wed? And when was it written?

Lydia’s heart was pounding so hard she could hear it echo in her ears. Surely, Amish Solomon Brand and
Englische
Bessie Stark had not been sweethearts, even though they’d grown up as neighbors. Well, Amish/
Englische
happened, of course, the forbidden part noted here by “Bessie.” What this could mean staggered her.

Despite his recent heart attack, Lydia had to make
Daad
tell her the truth tonight. If he refused, she’d insist she was going to ask Bess if she’d ever heard anything about the tragic buggy-car accident that took David and Lena Brand’s life. If Bess was at all involved, he would tell her the truth instead of letting Lydia face down Bess.
Daad
had always been funny—touchy—about Bess Keller Stark.

* * *

It was late afternoon when Lydia got home—she’d promised she would not drive anywhere after dark—and she was relieved that
Mamm
had gone to bed early. Better yet,
Daad
was in his quilting room so there was no way
Mamm
could wander downstairs and overhear them. Best,
Daad
had said, “Give me a couple of minutes, then come in to talk. And keep your eyes closed because your Christmas quilt is almost done.”

He had somehow sensed she needed to talk—or else he did, she thought as she hurried upstairs, used the bathroom and washed up. Gid had been too busy with the Christmas rush to corner her today, which was just as well. She wasn’t sure how good she was at keeping secrets, pretending things were going well when they were in such a mess. Besides, it would have been hard not to try to get him to admit irregularities in the big accounts, and then she’d ruin what must be
Daad
’s
 
undercover investigation. Maybe that’s why he had said nothing to her about it before.

Although Lydia had been tempted to bring the page with
Daad
’s
 
embezzlement findings home with her, she had put it carefully back. As for the note from Bessie, perhaps she’d never find the courage to tell
Daad
she knew he’d kept it all these years—unless he still refused to talk about her birth parents. And, of course, to bring it up with
Daad,
she’d have to admit she’d seen his information on Gid’s possible embezzling. But she had brought the love note with her.

She tiptoed to her parents’ room and put her ear to the door.
Mamm
used to take long afternoon naps when she was using those pills. But with worrying about
Daad—
and,
ya,
about her daughter, she’d looked especially tired lately. Then, too, maybe her insomnia had set in again to tire her out.

Lydia went downstairs and, finding the side parlor door ajar, knocked once and went in.
Daad
had rolled the quilt almost closed on its frame, but she saw one of the four hems was not sewn yet.

“I don’t want you to work too hard,” she said, “even on that.”

“It’s not work that will do me in someday, Liddy. Here, sit down,” he said, indicating the chair he’d been using, then pulling around the other one from the far side of the quilt for himself.

“Of course, you want to know how things went at the store today.”

“If things are all right, save that until later. I need to tell you about your mother.”

She gasped. Had he read her mind? Guessed her torment somehow? But no—no. He must mean
Mamm.

“Is she all right?”

“I learned from the fact I’ve been counting her sleeping pills that she’s back on them again. Liddy, I’ve kept this from you, but she sleepwalks at night and sometimes during the day, just like Dr. Bryan warned us about.”

“Have you stayed up at night to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself, like on the stairs?”

“
Ya,
but not since I’ve been back from the hospital, because I thought she was off the pills. Before that, I stayed up at night, even tied her wrist to mine so I knew when she got up. Sometimes she just went to the bathroom, but other times...” He shrugged. “And she recalls nothing of what she does at night, but she’s sure-footed. I’m not afraid she’ll fall. She takes the stairs, moves around the house, even cleaning things sometimes. Twice she made bread. I just slept nearby, so exhausted. But even asleep, she seemed to know what she was doing.”

“So we have to get her off the pills again. You can’t be worrying about her, following her. You need sleep to recover. We’ll get her help, get her off those for good.”

“It’s just I’m at my wit’s end with her again. I don’t mean to use you instead of Bishop Esh, kind of like a marriage counselor. But the doctor will have a fit if he sees I’m stressed out.”

Lydia felt doubly deflated.
Mamm
was a problem, her parents’ marriage was as good as dead, and now did she ever dare to bring up what she’d seen at Bess’s today and found hidden in his desk drawer? But wasn’t the Lord giving her these clues so that she could confront him? Or was this new problem with
Mamm
to show her she should hold her peace again, or maybe even ask Bess if she knew
Daad
well years ago, instead of upsetting him even more? She could mention to Bess that her real mother had collected snow globes, so did she know any Amish girl around here who did that?

But then she could lose Bess’s friendship and support. Strange how much it meant to her. Over the years, Lydia’s heart had swelled with joy, even excitement, when Bess was near. And would a woman who had set her sights so high and was planning a campaign to reach the stars ever admit she had an illegitimate Amish daughter?

“Liddy? Are you all right?”
Daad
’s
 
voice sliced through her agonizing.

“Just upset about
Mamm.
”

He took her hands in his. She was shaken to see tears in his eyes.

“
Daad,
I’ll help you watch her at night. Can’t we put a bell on your bedroom door? Maybe the bathroom doorknob, too? If she’s in a sleep-awake state when she gets up, she wouldn’t notice the bell, would she? In the morning, we’ll insist she must get off the pills and go back to her doctor for another kind of medicine tomorrow. I can go with her.”

“And one more important thing. I want you to know I’m not promoting Gid as a husband for you anymore. It just seemed so perfect, so right at first. There are others who can run the store after I’m gone. Just wanted you to know,” he repeated.

Touched, she nodded.
Daad
’s hands were shaking.
Dear Lord,
she prayed,
don’t let him have another heart attack. And help me to help him and Mamm, but to somehow get the answers I need without hurting them.
After all, she thought with a twinge of anger, she’d asked
Daad
before about her birth parents and he’d put her off and turned her down, just like Bishop Esh had. Even if she did ask
Daad
again, he still might refuse to tell her. Maybe asking Bess, as pushy and scary as that seemed, was the best way now.

Just before dinner,
Mamm
appeared, seeming in a calm and kindly mood. So was
Daad
reading this all wrong?

* * *

That night, Lydia rigged bells on the outside knobs of the bedroom and bathroom doors, then left her own door open so she could hear better. She also hid
Mamm
’s
 
pills under her own pillow. But if
Mamm
didn’t open the doors quick, like she always did, maybe the bells wouldn’t sound at all. No matter what happened, tomorrow she would use the phone in the shanty way down the road and make
Mamm
a doctor’s appointment. Things had to get better.