Secret, The (23 page)
The floodgates opened, and Mandy bowed low into her hands, sobbing like her heart had broken into more pieces than could ever be mended.
Grace rushed to her side and rubbed her back like Mamma would have. And Mandy reached for Grace’s hand and held on for dear life.
When Becky came over to lend a hand with the setup for Preaching, Grace suddenly felt tense, worried she’d come to discuss Mamma’s absence. But her friend surprised her by simply carrying in hymnals from the bench wagon. She also brought word that her mother was getting some additional help with baking pies for the common meal tomorrow.
“This’ll be
gut,
” she told Becky as they placed the hymnals on the end of the wooden benches, along the center aisle.
“Well, we want to help.” Becky’s eyes were moist. “Trust me, we do.”
Grace gave her friend a quick hug and whispered, “Denki . . . ever so much.”
“Pocketful of Sunshine” began playing on her iPhone, and Heather reached to see who’d sent her an email. “Don!” she shouted.
Unsure what to think, she opened the update from halfway around the world. It looked from Don’s email like Devon was back on his feet and should be returning to the base soon.
I’m
sure he’ll be in touch,
he concluded.
“And Dad thinks this is all so primitive,” she scoffed, wondering again where her father was.
Her thumbs flew over the surface of the digital keypad as she typed back a swift response.
Thanks. Great to hear it!
The phone beeped and it was her dad. “Where’ve you been?” she answered.
He was laughing . . . really laughing, like she hadn’t heard for a while. “You’ll never believe this,” he said.
“Um . . . what?”
“I just bought some land in the middle of Amish country. How weird is that?”
She nearly shrieked. “You what?!”
“You heard me.” He was still laughing, and it made her smile.
“Well, where?” There were numerous Plain communities around the country.
“Just north of Bird-in-Hand. You must see it sometime,” he said. “I’m in Lancaster County now—remember all the summers here?”
“Hey, cool, Dad.” This was just too coincidental. She couldn’t believe it. “So you bought land for what?”
“I don’t know—I’ll have a hobby farm or plant vegetables.”
“Dad . . .”
“I’m serious.”
“So, you’re moving there?”
“First I have to put a house on it.” He mentioned using some of the proceeds from Mom’s life insurance policy. “Of course, I could sign the land over to you, Heather . . . for your wedding dowry.” He chuckled into the phone. “Like the Amish.”
She laughed at the thought.
Dad and his crazy ideas . . .
“I’ll be home in a few days.”
And I’ll be leaving. . . .
She was still surprised he was calling from Pennsylvania.
“Uh, Dad?” Should she tell him she was heading there, too?
“Look, honey, I’ve got to run. We’ll talk again soon.”
“Okay. See ya.” She found this all so amazing.
Wow, to think
we’re on the same wavelength for the first time. How weird is this?
Wondering if Don was still at his computer, she sent him another message:
So terrific hearing from you! You guys be safe.
Hoping for more, she carried her phone around for the rest of the evening. But she heard nothing further as she added another few pages to her thesis.
Judah spent a good part of Saturday night looking in on his lambs. He’d given Adam and Joe the night off—they needed to catch up on sleep. And it wasn’t fair to ask Grace and Mandy to help outside, since they’d done so much to get the house and barn ready for tomorrow’s Preaching.
It was his responsibility to make sure this brand-new set of twins survived and were not rejected by their mother—although he was seeing signs of that already. At least one of the newborns might have to be adopted by another ewe, which meant even more hands-on work. He was willing and able to do it, but the prospect of the continuing lack of sleep was daunting right now.
Recalling Lettie’s restlessness, he wondered if her exhaustion had been part of the reason for her depression. Judah let out his air in one long breath. It was impossible to know what had been on her mind. He rubbed his sore neck, thinking back to the evening before his wife had left.
“I want you to hear this from me,”
she’d said, eyes intent on him.
Hear what? That she loved someone else?
Impossible
, he thought. A desperate lump of regret churned in his gut, devouring him.
“Was it ’cause she didn’t think you’d listen?”
Adam had boldly asked at the table, in the hearing of his brother and sisters. And none of them, not even Grace or Mandy, had defended their father.
What if he
had
stayed to hear her out? Would Lettie still be here? He shook his head.
I can’t change the past.
The thought gave him no consolation, and he was consumed with worry for his troubled wife, out there alone somewhere in the modern and wicked world.
He hoped, if nothing else, she was getting some rest at last. Sleep, and the Lord’s watch care, might just work wonders.
Long after the newborn lambs had finished nursing, Judah remained there in the hay, soon limp with sleep.
Andy Riehl’s rooster crowed and awakened Judah with a start. It was the Lord’s Day, and he rose, shaking the straw off, aware again of the shooting pain in his upper back and neck. But he couldn’t let it slow him down; he must begin a flurry of chores, just as on a weekday.
He made haste to the house and got Adam and Joe up and going. He didn’t need to prompt Grace, who would be rising soon to start breakfast, rousing Mandy once the meal was underway. His younger daughter wasn’t much for rising early. He remembered once smiling with Lettie about that.
He wondered if his wife was up and dressing for Preaching, wherever she was staying. He opened the pasture gate and let the sheep out to graze, watching the mighty frisky baby lambs bob after their mothers. The smallest ones worried him most. Keeping them alive was sometimes a chore and a half.
Adam and Joe came downstairs quickly, no dillydallying. The Lord had given him some mighty fine sons and daughters. A good thing, too, because there was much work to be done. He expected a good forty or so lambs this spring, assuming they all survived.
He glanced at Adam and Joe as they headed to the sheep barn. They’d need to freshen the straw for the new mothers-to- be. He hoped none of the ewes would go into labor today, with church being held here.
There was the not-so-small matter of Preacher Josiah Smucker, too. Anticipating the coming confrontation drained him, and he hoped whatever Josiah had to say wouldn’t take up too much time. Truth was, Judah had neither knowledge nor time to spare. He thought of calling Martin Puckett tomorrow to see if he’d drive him over to the blacksmith shop first thing—although word had it Martin had disappeared the same day Lettie had. All that hearsay seemed out-and-out strange. Martin and Lettie?
He would not allow the ridiculous murmurings to cloud his judgment. Lettie—and Martin, too—were surely innocent of any wrongdoing. Might be a good thing to let the unsuspecting fellow know what was being said about him.
Reaching for his hayfork, Judah shook his head.
Des hot ken
Verschtand!—This is absurd!
He wondered if Lettie had any idea what a hornet’s nest her departure had stirred.
S
ometimes innocent things done in a spirit of kindness—even out of intended care—came back to bite you. Martin pondered this on the drive to the church where he and Janet had attended all their married life. He’d gone to this church even longer, having joined at seventeen.
Nearly an eon ago.
Keeping his hands at ten and two o’clock on the steering wheel, he wondered if something was up with his Amish regulars. Despite his having been out of town for several days, he had returned to find not a single message requesting transportation from any of the Bird-in-Hand folk. Even those who called from farther to the west—Intercourse—and to the north, from Stumptown, had not contacted him since last Thursday.
He thought again of Lettie Byler . . . and of Pete Bernhardt’s standoffishness at Penn Station. Had Pete anything to do with the major drop-off in business? Martin certainly hoped not.
Pulling into the church parking lot, he spotted Victor Murray, one of their longtime ushers, and waved. He got out and hurried around to open Janet’s car door.
If Martin didn’t hear something soon from either Andy Riehl or Judah Byler himself, he’d have to wander over there and make small talk. The silence was not only disconcerting but utterly deafening.
Judah hung back a ways from the house, fanning himself with his straw hat. From the backyard, he observed Adam and Joe, along with their boy cousins, greeting the People as they pulled into the driveway in their buggies. Adam had designated certain lads to help unhitch horses and lead them to the barn for water.
Judah was mighty pleased at the efficient assembly line before him, considering what his sons were going through. Folk looked right through to your heart at a time like this, and Judah himself was ready to have the day over and done with. He reached back to rub his neck; the pain was nearly unbearable now.