The Search (9 page)

Lainey’s stomach gripped tight. She didn’t want to think about that.

Bess looked up at her, a question on her face. “How did you know how old I am?”

And Lainey had no answer for her.

Over two weeks had passed since the Understanding, as Jonah came to think of it, had been formalized with Sallie. By Sallie. He still felt a little stunned, yet the idea of marrying again wasn’t altogether unpleasant. It was starting to grow on him, the way Sallie sort of grew on a fellow. She was cheerful, that Sallie. And her boys certainly did need a father’s influence. Sallie thought their antics were adorable, but most people ran the other way when they caught sight of those twins. Just the other day, they stripped Jonah’s tree of apples and tossed them at passing cars. Mose caught them in the act and quietly took them home to Sallie. If Jonah had caught them, he would have wanted to tan their hides. Yes, those boys needed a father. And living alone this summer gave him a pretty good idea of what the future would hold for him once Bess was grown and gone. He hated it.

Over a month had passed since Lainey had arrived in Stoney Ridge. This July afternoon Bess came into The Sweet Tooth looking pale and worried, with arms crossed tightly in front of her as if she were shivering despite summer’s muggy warmth. Lainey tried to teach her how to roll a pie crust, but she could see Bess couldn’t concentrate. Bess kept rolling and rolling until the crust was so thin, it was nearly see-through.

Lainey quickly rolled it into a ball and put it in the refrigerator to chill. “You can’t let pastry get warm. The shortening needs to be in layers when it bakes, not mixed in.”

Bess looked as if the thought of ruining the pastry made her want to cry.

“Is something troubling you, Bess?” At first, Lainey was sure it had something to do with Billy Lapp. But then she had a horrible premonition that maybe Bertha had finally told her the truth.

“No. Yes.” Bess’s eyes met Lainey’s, wide and sea blue. “I’m dying.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m bleeding to death.”

Lainey looked her up and down. She didn’t see any signs of hemorrhaging. “Where?”

Bess pointed to her stomach. “Here.”

“Your stomach?”

Bess shook her head. She pointed lower.

“Oh,” Lainey said. Then her eyes went wide as it dawned on her. “Oh!” She put her hands on Bess’s shoulders. “Oh Bess, you’re not dying. Hasn’t anyone ever told you about getting the monthly visit from Flo?”

Bess looked at her, confused. “From who?”

Of course she hadn’t been told! She had no mother. Her father certainly wouldn’t discuss such a personal thing. Lainey went to the door and locked it, turning the closed sign over. She sat down and patted the chair next to her. “Let’s have a talk.”

Later that afternoon, as soon as Bess returned to Rose Hill Farm, Mammi showed her a black bonnet she had made for her.

“It’s bigger than a coal scuttle!” Bess said miserably. “Mammi, are you trying to turn me into Lancaster Amish?” Her Ohio bonnet was much smaller.

“Nothing of the sort,” Mammi said, tying the ribbons under Bess’s chin.

Bess could hardly see from side to side. “I feel like a horse wearing blinders.”

Mammi didn’t pay any attention. “We got us another errand in town.”

“Oh Mammi,” Bess said, too worried to stir. She didn’t think this day could get any worse, but it just had.

Sure enough, Mammi was on a mission to search out that poor sheriff’s car. Mammi spotted the empty car out in front of the five-and-dime store and pulled the buggy over.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” Bess asked.

“I got my reasons.”

“Then why don’t you do the driving?”

“Can’t,” Mammi said. “I’d be put under the ban.” She gave a sideways glance to Bess. “You’re safe.”

Bess sighed and got into the driver’s side. Refusing Mammi anything never worked. She started up the car and drove down the road, a little faster this time—after all, she might as well enjoy this—until Mammi pointed to an empty parking spot and Bess pulled over.

Just like last time, the sheriff came running up the street, huffing and puffing. “Dadblast it, Miz Riehl! You did it again!”

“Did what?” Mammi asked, the very picture of surprise. She pushed open the passenger door and eased out of the car. Bess hopped out and stood beside her.

The sheriff’s face turned purple-red. “Now, Miz Riehl, don’t be like that.”

Out of nowhere, Billy Lapp stepped in front of Mammi and Bess and made a patting gesture with both hands. “You’ll have to excuse Bertha Riehl, Sheriff Kauffman. She’s feeling her age these days.” He made a clocklike motion around his ears with his hands. “I’ll make sure these ladies get right on home so they don’t cause any more trouble for you.”

The sheriff turned to Billy with one hand on his gun holster. “You do that. And make sure that yellow-haired gal stops tempting her granny to a life of crime.”

Mammi glared at Billy as he steered them by their elbows to the buggy. Billy tried to help her into the buggy, but she batted away his hand. “Feeling my age, am I?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was only trying to keep you out of jail. What were you thinking?” Mammi wouldn’t answer, so he turned to Bess. “And just what do you think you’re doing? Why would you ever drive off in a sheriff’s car?” He reached out a hand to help her climb up in the buggy.

Still mindful of seeing Billy drive Betsy Mast in his courting buggy the other day, Bess shook his hand off her arm. “We have our reasons,” she said huffily as she climbed into the buggy. As soon as they had left the main street, she turned to her grandmother. “Just what
are
our reasons?”

“Why, no reason at all,” was all Mammi said, jutting out her big chin.

Later that week, Bess was in the barn, spreading rose petals. She took off her bandanna and wiped her forehead and neck. It was already hot and only nine in the morning. She opened the barn doors to get a crosswind and leaned against the doorjamb for a moment. She scanned the farm as she tied her bandanna in a knot at the nape of her neck. She saw Billy in the fields, Mammi in the kitchen. Hot breezes sighed in the cornfield across the road. A row of crows on the fence line told each other off. A woodpecker was hard at work somewhere high in a treetop. The morning was going on around them.

Suddenly she heard Billy holler like he’d seen a ghost. “Aphids! Bertha! We got aphids!”

The kitchen door blew open and Bertha stood there, arms akimbo. “Aphids?!” She marched out to the rose fields like a general to the front lines. She bent over the rose that Billy was working on, then looked around her. “Why, they’re everywhere!”

From the look on her face, Mammi had just declared war on the aphids. She pointed at Billy. “Scoot uptown and bring me back Coca-Cola. Bring back as much as you can carry.” She turned on Bess, who was walking over to see the aphid invasion up close. “Run in the kitchen and get five dollars from my special hiding place. You go with Billy to help him carry the soda pop.”

By the time Bess figured out that Mammi’s special hiding place for her money was an empty Folger’s coffee tin—the same place her father kept his money—Billy had the horse harnessed to its traces and was waiting for her. She hurried to join him, delighted at the turn of events that gave her time alone with him. Usually, Mammi was within shouting distance and added her two cents to their conversation. Bess tried to think of something interesting to say, something witty and wise. Just last night, she had been working out a few imaginary conversations with Billy, just in case an opportunity like this—driving together in a buggy—presented itself. But now her mind was empty. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. They were getting close to the store when she blurted out, “Why Coca-Cola?”

“Kills aphids,” Billy said without even glancing at her. And then he fell silent.

“What do you suppose it’s doing to your belly?” Bess said quietly.

Billy turned to her, a surprised look on his face, before bursting out with a laugh. “Good point.” He flashed a dazzling smile at her. His smile seemed as if he had never smiled for anyone else in the world.

Bess felt pleased. She had made Billy Lapp laugh.

Satisfied that the aphids were done in, Mammi spent the rest of the afternoon on another project. Instead of drying the rose petals from today’s pickings, she said she was using them to make rose water. She filled a pot with clean rose petals. Then she poured boiling water over them and covered the pot with a lid. She turned off the heat and let the petals stand until they cooled.

Before bedtime, Bess helped Mammi strain the petals from the water. They ended up with the most beautifully colored liquid a person would ever see. The liquid would be kept in the cooler and used whenever they would bake something that called for rose water, and Mammi would sell it in small mason jars. “And we’ll charge double at Dottie Stroot’s,” she told Bess.

Some nights, like tonight, it was so hot that Bess couldn’t sleep. She threw off her sheets and went downstairs, finding her way by touch because it was so dark. She opened the back door and stepped into the yard. Boomer followed her out and disappeared into the shadows.