Secret, The (16 page)

“Jah, the weather’s downright gloomy.”

Mandy looked out the window. “It’s really makin’ down.”

“Well, we need rain.” Bracing herself for the question that was sure to come, Grace faced the stove, putting salt and pepper on the yolks, which were now nearly done. Dat liked his slightly runny, but everyone else wanted their yolks firm. “Would you mind toasting some bread right quick?” she asked Mandy. “Wash your hands first, though.”

“Ach, you sound like Mamma.” Mandy sauntered to the sink and turned on the water. “Why’re you cookin’ breakfast anyway?”

“Why not?”

Just then, Adam and Joe came in through the side door, even though Dat always urged them to use the front door that led to the hallway, with its specified places for work boots and outerwear.

“Is Dat with you?” Grace asked, glancing toward the door.

“He took off with Sassy and the buggy earlier . . . didn’t say where he was headed,” Adam said, referring to his own driving horse.

“He was in a big hurry. Must be an important errand,” Joe said as he clumped over to the sink, where Mandy was standing, drying her hands.

“So early?” Mandy said. “What’s open this time of day?”

Grace cut in, “Better take off your boots. Leave ’em outside.”

“They’ll get rained on,” Joe said, removing his and leaving them on the oval rug near the door. He looked up at the three of them . . . minus their mother. “Where’s Mamma?”

Grace glanced at Adam, who seemed oblivious. “Well, she’s not here,” she said, heart sinking.

She’s left us. . . .

“So
you’re
makin’ breakfast?” Joe said. “It better be
gut
.”

She took the spatula and lifted the eggs out of the pan and set them on plates. “How many eggs can ya eat?” she asked Adam, then Joe.

They each claimed their usual three, along with two pieces of the buttered toast that Mandy provided.

“Maybe Dat went to fetch Mamma,” said Mandy out of the blue as they all sat down.

Grace was caught by surprise. What did her sister mean?

“She’s not in the barn,” said Adam. “Has
anyone
seen her?”

“Not this mornin’,” Mandy said.

“Could be Dat’s taken her to visit one of her sisters,” Joe suggested.

Grace squeezed her hands tightly beneath the table and looked to Adam for the table blessing, since he was the oldest male present. She bowed her head when he did, praying the silent rote prayer she’d learned as a child.

“Why would ya say that . . . what you said before?” Joe asked Mandy when they started eating. “That Dat went to fetch Mamma?”

“Because,” Mandy replied. “Don’t ya know she goes out walkin’ at—”

“Mandy, you’d best be eatin’,” Grace interrupted.

Her sister frowned, clearly resenting Grace’s rebuke. “We
all
best dig in now,” Grace suggested, feeling sick to her stomach.

Judah was on his third pass down the road and garnering stares from the neighbors. He’d even ventured as far east as Monterey Road, near Eli’s Natural Foods store and back, keeping his eye out for any sign of Lettie. He’d driven past several of her cousins’ houses, as well as all of her siblings’, not stopping to inquire after her . . . not wanting to worry anyone needlessly. But he assumed if Lettie had gone merely to visit, someone would’ve come out to hail him.

Feeling mighty weak now, he knew he ought to head home. Yet he was hardly ready to face questions from Adam or the others, and surely there would be some.

Waving at the neighbor up the way, Judah tipped his hat when he was greeted with
“Guder Mariye”
and a big wave.

If Lettie’s gone, my children won’t be the only ones asking
questions.

“And I have nothin’ to appease their curiosity.” He clucked his tongue to spur Sassy onward, observing his fine sheep grazing in the distance.

He waved to the next neighbor, Marian Riehl, who was out on her porch, beating rag rugs. He’d heard from someone, he didn’t recall who, that the Riehls were getting a long-term paying guest. This struck him as both curious and practical. Andy and Marian were hard-pressed to make ends meet, as many were. Plain folk were thinking twice these days about having gas-run appliances—some wished they could return to wood-fed stoves.

He wondered how his mother-in-law must be feeling
now
about her doggedness in wanting more modern kitchen appliances.

Shaking his head, he also considered what Adah Esh would think if she’d received the kind of letter Lettie had written to Grace. Perhaps Lettie
had
shared her plan with someone besides Grace.

If Naomi were still alive
, she
would undoubtedly know.

As Judah surveyed the rain-drenched landscape, he could see patches on the ground where samara had fallen last year and were already beginning to take root. He was anxious for the sunny days of May, another week away.

Lettie will miss watching her beloved mourning doves if she stays
away too long.
He recalled her fascination last spring as she’d observed the males accompanying their mates to possible nesting sites, the male birds gathering twigs and other material for the female that built the nest. Lettie had stood and watched at the kitchen window for nearly half an hour just after dawn one day. Judah had offered to make a ground feeding tray for them, since they weren’t hoppers like some birds, and Lettie had been so pleased, giving him a rare smile.

Will she miss the late-blooming honey locust?
he wondered.
Surely
she’ll return for harvesting elderberries and peaches. Surely . . .

He rubbed his neck and shoulders—the pain at the nape of his neck had become a searing ache. No more putting off the dreaded breakfast scene. It was past time to head home. By all indications, his wife had flown the coop. For how long, Judah did not know.

Dat took his time unhitching Sassy from the family buggy, then headed toward the house, cutting across the drive and through the side yard. Grace noticed he’d worn his winter hat instead of the straw one and was all dressed in black.
Like for
Preaching service,
she thought, stepping away from the window, her heart pounding.

He looked ashen as he came into the kitchen. Grace had cleaned off the table and washed the dishes, not knowing when he might return. With Mandy upstairs making her bed and straightening her room and the boys back in the barn monitoring the new lambs, the house was uncomfortably quiet. She felt ever so strange, knowing all she did about Mamma . . . wondering what her father knew, if anything.

She moved silently to the cupboard and again took out the frying pan, ready to make breakfast for Dat if he wanted it. Mandy would be down soon enough, she was sure, which would help things along, as well. Unless Mandy once more brought up Mamma’s absence.

Dat had broken his own rule about not using the side door. He’d come in stocking footed, having removed his work boots and left them outside since the rain had stopped. “Am I too late for some eggs and toast?” he asked, his face angst ridden.

“Not at all.” She turned and set the gas flame where she liked it. She longed to fill up the dreadful void, the aching emptiness between them, but she knew better than to ask where Mamma was. That would be deceitful. Yet, because he didn’t utter a word about her taking over the cooking duties, she guessed he knew something. Perhaps they’d had words in the night?

Dat went into the washroom and decisively closed the door. She heard the click of the lock, as well, which was not at all like him. He—all of them—simply shut the door. The whole family respected a closed door, no matter the room.
“A closed
door is closed for a reason,”
Mamma had often said when they were little.

By the time Dat appeared again and took his place at the head of the table, Mandy reappeared in the doorway of the kitchen, wearing a scowl. “Did ya find her?” She planted herself next to their father.

“Your Mamma, you mean?” Dat eyed them both.

Grace carried the food over, the eggs cooked to Dat’s liking, and put the plate in front of him. She waited, wondering what more he might request. And if he might say where he’d gone.

“She’s nowhere to be found.” Mandy leaned forward, her elbows on the table, hands supporting her chin. “Where on earth could she be?”

“I don’t know,” Dat muttered.

“She’s not usually gone first thing in the morning,” Mandy declared, turning to look at Grace.

Dat bowed his head for the blessing, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. When he’d said amen and picked up his fork, he whispered, “ ’Tis a mystery.”

“Well, where do ya
think
she is?” Mandy folded her hands on the table.

Grace gently touched her shoulder. “Let Dat eat in peace.”

Mandy frowned at her, getting up. “Sorry,” she muttered and left by way of the side door.

Dat continued eating, his eyes fixed on his plate while Grace went to scrub out the frying pan for the second time. In spite of her father’s blank expression, she sensed he knew something.

She turned, her hands still in the sudsy water. “Mamma wrote me a letter ’bout her leaving.” Pausing, she quickly dried her hands and crossed the room to him. “She must’ve left it on my dresser in the wee hours.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Dat’s face, and then he nodded. “I saw it.”

“You read it, then?”

“Jah.”

He must’ve taken it.

Grace sensed how awkward he surely felt. “Well, I never would’ve known how to share it with you, Dat, anyway. None of it made sense.”

His eyes were sad, and she lowered herself to sit on the wooden bench to the left of her father, in Adam’s spot. “I went lookin’ for her right away, all through the house.”

“So did I,” he said.

“And then I saw her running up the road. A car stopped to pick her up. I could hardly believe my eyes.”

At that, he frowned and ran his hand over his untrimmed beard. He sighed ever so deeply.

“Where do ya think she went, Dat?”

He sat motionless. “Haven’t the slightest notion.”

She heard him breathing, yet he said no more. So many questions ran through her mind, but he was clearly in no shape to tend to them just now. Surely he had dozens of his own.

Getting up, she returned to the sink.

“A reserved man can be hard to live with. . . . A woman might
never know where she stands,”
Mamma had said. At the time, Grace had hoped her mother was referring only to Henry.

chapter
fifteen

W
hen Adah wandered across the downstairs hall and into the kitchen through Lettie’s sitting room, she was surprised to see Grace wiping off the counters. “A bit late to be cleanin’ up after breakfast, jah?” she teased.

Grace nodded and kept cleaning.

“Is your Mamma around?” Adah asked, then noticed her granddaughter’s peaked face. “Ach, girl . . . are you feelin’ all right?”

“Just a little tired, I guess.”

“Well, if you see her, tell her I’d like some help with a quilt top I’ve been puttin’ off.”

“Mamma’s not here.” Grace’s lower lip trembled. “She’s gone.”

“Gone where?”

Grace stopped scrubbing and folded her dishrag. “Wish I knew.”

Has Lettie taken one of her long walks?
Adah wondered. “Come, sit . . . let’s talk.” She gestured to Grace.

They moved into the cozy sitting room. Grace sat on one of the hard cane chairs, while Adah sank down into an upholstered one. The spacious square room was darker than the kitchen, which gave it a feeling of confidentiality. “Why do you say your mother’s left?”

Grace inhaled slowly. “I saw her go.”

Adah had known Lettie to traipse around outside after Judah was sleeping. Why would Grace think this was different from other nights?

“You saw her . . . just like other times—is that what ya mean?”

“No, I don’t think you understand, Mammi. I saw her get into a car.”

“Maybe you were dreamin’, dear,” suggested Adah.

“Honestly, I might’ve thought that, too . . . ’cept Mamma left me a good-bye note.”

A note?

“Ach, we’d best slow down.” Adah fanned herself with the white hankie she’d pulled from beneath her sleeve. “You have something from your Mamma in writing?”