Courting Emily (A Wells Landing Book 2) (30 page)

That was exactly what she was afraid of, but now she knew what she did, how could she ever go back?

 

 

“Can I talk to you for a bit?” Lorie slid into the booth opposite her
mamm
. It had been nearly a week since the funeral. A week of sleepless nights and exhausting days of learning to get along without her father.

She reached for the stack of napkins. In the restaurant business, there was no such thing as downtime. Something always needed to be done. Lorie started rolling the flatware in the paper napkins like she had been taught when she was eight years old.

“
Jah
, of course,”
Mamm
said. Her mouth turned up at the corners, but still managed to look more like a frown than a smile.

Lorie stopped rolling silverware and instead started to tear little pieces from the napkin in her hands. “I think we should talk about the tattoo.”

Mamm
shook her head. “I don’t.”

“So you did know it was there.” A small part of her had hoped that by some miracle, her
mamm
didn’t know about the mark on her father’s chest.

Maddie shot her a look, but continued to roll the silverware.

“Did you ever ask him about it?”

Her
mamm
took a deep breath, Lorie was sure to remind her that she had said she didn’t want to talk about the tattoo. Instead she slowly released it. “
Jah
. He told me he got it during his
rumspringa
.”

Lorie shook her head before Maddie even finished. “That’s impossible, and you and I both know it. He owned a car,
Mamm
. A car.”

Maddie slammed the last rolled bundle of flatware into the tub they used for storage. Her lips were pressed even tighter than usual, her eyes shooting sparks like the firecrackers on July Fourth. “He got it on his
rumspringa,
and that’s all there is to say about it.” Maddie’s words held such conviction Lorie wondered if she was trying to convince Lorie or herself.

“But—”

Maddie stood, towering over Lorie, a frowning menace in head-to-toe black. “We will not speak of this again.” She picked up the tray of utensils and marched toward the waitress station.

Lorie watched her go, feeling defeated and worn. So many unanswered questions floated around in her head. So many secrets kept for so many years.

“What did you say to
Mamm
?” Melanie slid into the booth opposite Lorie, her blue eyes searching.

“Nothing. It’s just hard right now.” She did her best to smile at her sister. In all actuality Melanie Kauffman was her half-sister, though Lorie had never felt that way before. What was happening to her?

Grief, Emily would say. She was probably right.

“I know,” Melanie said with a nod. “It’s hard when I miss him so.”

Lorie blinked back the tears welling in her eyes and squeezed Melanie’s hand. Their father’s death had been hard on them all. Melanie would have to postpone her wedding since she was now in mourning.

She looked over to where her sister Cora Ann brewed fresh tea for the afternoon crowd. At twelve, Cora Ann was still in school, working on the weekends and every time they needed an extra hand. Sadie was in the kitchen, most likely preparing food for the supper crowd. She was actually Lorie’s stepsister, but since she was an infant when Maddie married
Dat
, he was the only father she had ever known. Six-year-old Daniel sat at the table by the kitchen coloring a picture. His tongue was stuck in the corner of his mouth, his eyes nearly crossed behind his glasses as he concentrated on his work. He was so special, their Daniel. Of all of them, Lorie knew he was the most confused. He didn’t understand why his
vatter
was never coming back.

They had all been devastated by his untimely death. So why was she the only one with all these questions?

She stood and smoothed her hands down her black dress. She felt antsy, like her skin was too small and itchy from the inside out.

“Where are you going?” Melanie asked.

Lorie shrugged, another lie she would have to pray about. “Nowhere.”

“
Mamm
won’t like it if you’re not here when the dinner crowd starts coming in.”

She didn’t like a lot of things too, Lorie thought. Then she pushed the hateful thought away. Grief, that was all it was. “I’ll be back before then. I just need to . . .”

Her legs were stiff, and her heart pounding as she walked away.

She just needed to get some answers. She needed peace, understanding. As if her father’s death wasn’t enough, there was a tattoo and a car. And a stepmother who wanted to ignore it all.

The bell on the door dinged behind her as she stepped out into the overcast day. She could almost smell the rain in the air and hoped the clouds didn’t produce a storm. They bothered Daniel like nothing else. He had been through so much lately she didn’t know if he could handle any more right now.

Slowly she walked around the building as if she was out for nothing more than a casual stroll. Once she was out of sight to anyone looking out the window at Kauffman’s, she removed the key she’d tucked into the waistband of her apron. Sneaking around was not the best way to handle this, but she didn’t have many options.

She eased up the staircase to the storeroom above the restaurant. It held a little of everything from extra to-go lids and spare chairs to the paintings she hid there where no one could find them.

And the box of things given to Maddie by the police.

Her
mamm
might want to push everything aside and forget it, but Lorie couldn’t. The box was sitting just inside the door, as if
Mamm
didn’t want to spend any more time on it than was necessary.

Lorie looked at the box. She took a deep breath. She knelt on the floor. But she didn’t touch it.

What if what she found in there changed everything? Emily was right: she couldn’t un-see whatever the box contained. Yet she couldn’t unsee her father lying there in the morgue.

Her hands were sweaty, and she wiped them down the front of her dress skirt.

She had to know. No matter how bad she felt about disobeying her
mamm
and opening the box, she had to know.

Her hands trembled as she reached for the length of tape sealing the box shut tight. She pulled on it, wincing as it tore a little of the cardboard as she stripped it away. There was no going back.

She folded down the flaps, and tears sprang to her eyes. All that was left of her father was in this box. All the stuff collected by the police. It seemed pathetic, such meager remains from a full and happy life.

His black felt hat lay on top. She lifted it out and sat it in her lap, her fingers trailing around the brim.

She hadn’t asked what had happened to his clothing. She supposed they had removed them at the hospital. She wasn’t sure she wanted them anyway.

She wasn’t sure she wanted the box in front of her.

She moved the hat to one side and took out a set of keys she had never seen. The ring held about five keys, none of them marked. Perhaps they went to the restaurant. At least that was what she wanted to believe, even though in her heart she knew it was more than that.

A denim vest was the next thing she pulled out. It was so unlike anything her father ever wore, but when she held it close to her face, it smelled of him. The soap he used and the tangy scent of the restaurant.

In the very bottom of the box was a leather wallet.

Her heart pounded in her throat as she removed the wallet she had never seen before.

Somehow she knew this was it. As much as she wanted to put it back inside the box, tape the thing up, and pretend it didn’t exist, something inside her could not let it go.

She opened the wallet and her gaze fell upon an
Englisch
driver’s license. Her father’s face smiled back at her from the tiny picture. There was no mistaking that it was him. But the name . . .

Henry Mathis.

Her father’s name wasn’t Henry Mathis. His name was Henry Kauffman.

Yet it was his picture.

She ran her fingers across the plastic holder. The birthday was right: June 16th. And his eye and hair color. He was an organ donor, though she didn’t even know what that meant.

The address was in Tulsa, not Wells Landing. How could this be right?

She pinched the bridge of her nose where a headache was starting to throb. How could this be?

But there it was, right in her hands. No matter how she looked at it, only one conclusion came to mind. Her father had been living a double life.

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Copyright © 2015 by Amy Lillard

 

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ISBN: 978-1-4201-3455-1

ISBN-10: 1-4201-3455-8

 

First Electronic Edition: January 2015
eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-3456-8
eISBN-10: 1-4201-3456-6