Heritage of Lancaster County 03 The Reckoning (20 page)

Standing in the hallway just outside Willy's room, she breathed in deeply, wondering why she felt even more at a loss for words than she had when Laura lay dying. Willy was so terribly young--hadn't even had a chance to live--and now his life was ending.

She busied herself reading to several other patients, passing out cups of water in the common room, and sitting silently in the darkened room of another cancer patient. Hoping for another moment or two with Willy before she left for the day, Katherine was happy when his mother and brother came looking for her.

"We're going to the cafeteria for a snack," Willy's mother said. "Would you mind playing your guitar softly in the room until we return?"

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"It's no use," Josh spoke up, his countenance glum. "Willy won't hear it anyway. He's dangling somewhere between earth and heaven."

Katherine cringed, remembering Nurse Judah's re- mark--that the boy might have only a few days at the longest.

When Mrs. Norton and Josh left, Katherine slipped back into Willy's room. He was lying very still in his bed, his little arm wrapped lovingly around all three of his teddy bears. Going over to stand at the side of his bed, she noticed the elephant card in his right hand.

In the quietude, she played a new song for him--a lilting, happy tune she composed as she went along. Strumming softly, she pictured a meadow with daisies and a hot sun high overhead. She and Willy were romping through the

high grass, their faces flushed with the heat of summer. "Are you married, Katherine?"

She could hear his innocent words, could see his blue, inquisitive eyes. Sweet... dear Willy. Dying.

She wished his cancer might go into remission, then he could be the boy who carried the ring at her and Justin's church wedding--the ring bearer, she thought it was called, though she couldn't be sure. Such a selfish thought; at least

it might seem so to anyone who didn't truly know her. "Will you have lots o.f children?"

She played on, changing keys as she sang the song just for him. It was a song of sheer joy, for the boy had given her much in the way of friendship, and on several occasions he'd offered her hope. Yet she had been the one volunteering to encourage him!

"God gives His people the desires of their hearts," he'd said once, startling her by adding something so profound that she could hardly comprehend it. "If thw' re linked up with Him," he'd said.

At the time she had seen the sincerity in his eyes. Now,

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thinking back to that moment, she wondered why such great faith hadn't given Willy his heart's desire. Could it be that the all-wise, all-knowing heavenly Father had a better plan for the child? Was that the reason Willy was dying?

Katherine played her guitar as beautifully as she ever had, thinking that it might very well be the last time. Her fingertips tender, she played till both Mr. and Mrs. Norton and Josh returned. Again, they thanked her for showing kindness to their son.

"I'm happy to have spent so much time with Willy," she said. "I can't begin to tell you the many things he's taught me."

His father nodded. "We're very proud of him."

When they'd said their good-byes, she excused herself and went to page Theodore, waiting outdoors where she could breathe the crisp, cold air. Her head needed a good airing out. "Dear Lord, must you take Willy now?" she prayed, reminding God of the child's youth. "He doesn't want to die. Please, could you reconsider?"

For the first time in her life, she did not feel that such a prayer was bossy or presumptuous.

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Katherine took the call in the library, where she'd spent most of the morning reading.

Natalie Judah was on the line. "Hello, Katherine. I called to tell you about Willy Norton." She paused briefly. "I

wanted you to know before you come in on Monday." Katherine braced herself. "Yes?"

"The boy passed away in his sleep early this morning" came the report.

Silent, Katherine let the message seep into her con-

sciousness. Willy James Lee... gone.

"Katherine? Are you all right?"

Immediately, her thoughts flew to Willy's parents and brother. "How's the family taking it?"

"Our spiritual-care people are with them now," Natalie

assured her. "The family has a strong faith."

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I know."

After she had said good-bye, Katherine put in a call to Justin. She didn't feel much like having lunch with anyone today, exotic dining room or not. He answered on the first ring.

"I'm very sorry to cancel our luncheon date," she said. "But I don't believe I would be good company for you." She

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went on to tell him about Willy's passing.

"I'm sad to hear that, but perhaps you'll change your mind in a few hours. Why don't you page me later? You might feel like having something to eat after all."

It was generous of him to offer, she thought, extending himself that way. "Yes, well, I might, but I hope you won't be offended if I don't.., not today."

"It's entirely your choice, Katherine. Whatever you decide, my dear."

"Thanks for understanding."

"Certainly. We'll talk later, or maybe tomorrow--as soon as you feel up to it."

When they'd hung up, she sat there in the stillness. Feeling suddenly hemmed in, the towering library shelves seemed to close in on her as she brooded. The tea table, with her books scattered on it, was near the fire, and a plate of cookies and other sweets enticed her to linger awhile.

Getting up, she wandered over to the windows, staring up at a clean sky. Only an occasional puff of a cloud, far in the distance, caught her attention. Yet she watched them drift, break into pieces, and float aimlessly aross the expanse of blue.

She thought of Willy's passing in light of her Amish upbringing, and it wasn't so unnatural to think in terms of death being all wrapped up in life--merely part of the cycle we humans must celebrate. Funerals, as seen through the eye of one who'd experienced a good many of them in Hickory Hollow, were a gathering together of loved ones and friends to rejoice in the life of the deceased, no matter how short or long. No weeping and wailing over the loss of one of the People. "For every soul who goes, another will be born to take his place," Samuel Lapp used to say.

No, she would never want to wish Willy back. With the Lord's blessing--and Willy certainly seemed to have a cor

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ner on that--the boy would find his own mansion in paradise just fine.

Still, she felt overcome with grief. Another loss, one so close to the other. And she supposed--had she been given to drinking wine--that she might have been tempted to drown her sorrow. Instead, she turned to Laura's books, and for the next several hours lost herself in classic literature.

It was much later, after Justin had called to check up on her, that she felt compelled to visit her birth mother's grave. A quick call to Theodore brought the limousine promptly around to the front entrance.

There was precious little talk between herself and the chauffeur this time, even though a hint of spring in the air served to evoke frivolous chatter on the part of Theodore, the day being warm in contrast to the severe weather of past weeks.

"I certainly wouldn't think it would be much longer until spring is more than official," said Theodore, looking dapper as usual. "We're on the downside of bitter weather, if I do say so myself."

He had a pleasant pattern of speech--a kind of good- natured, yet British way of bantering--with or without the listener ever having to interact. The sound of his voice was as warm and welcome as her long-deceased Dawdi David's approach to loafing around with other Amishmen. They'd huddled together on many a springlike day, sitting out under the shade of their gnarled oak tree on a low wooden bench, chewing the fat--some of them chewing the tobacco leaf, too.

Katherine listened without comment. After a time, though, she was less aware of his soft patter and more absorbed in her own private thoughts.

The cemetery was several miles from town, situated off one of the county roads a bit. The burial place--removed from urban life, yet accessible enough for visitors, be they

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mourners or merely lovers of nature--was as serene as it was haunting.

Huge iron gates yawning open reminded her that it was also quite secluded and separate from the rest of Canandai- gua. This, she was fairly certain, was the reason Laura's parents had purchased burial plots here years ago.

The trees seemed taller than she'd remembered. Today they created an entangled sanctuary of branches high above the gravel road that stretched, narrow and bending, around the sections of the graveyard.

She imagined the place in full summer, the orchard to the south filled with bees moiling the magic of pollination, the lovely, flagrant smells, the margin of woods to the east where tall goldenrod and ironweed would bloom tawny gold and sky blue come autumn, where starlings bickered and swallows swooped down to say hello.

Katherine, awestruck by her surroundings, had never felt so vulnerable, so breathless, in the Amish cemeteries in Lancaster County. Yet she simply could not shrug off the heaviness as she donned her snow boots and left the limousine to search for her birth mother's headstone.

Minutes later, she stood in front of Laura Mayfield-Ben- nett's grave and silently read the words etched on the stone. " 'But the salvation of the righteous is of the Lord: he is their strength in the time of trouble.' "

The salvation of the righteous...

These words, read by one of the ministers at the funeral, had been ever so dear to Laura. Reading them again, Katherine felt the vigor, the unexpected drawing power.

Dropping to her knees in the sno; she began to share her secret grief. "Oh, Mother, I never understood the things you said as you were dying. Not fully. You were such a kind and compassionate woman. Everyone who knew you says so. I only wish I might've known you longer.., better."

She sighed. "There's a dear little boy. His name is--

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was--Willy, and I came to love him in spite of his terminal disease. But now he's gone. I never, never dreamed I could care so much for a child.., one who was not my own."

Pausing, she heard the gentle wind in the trees, the hushed reverence around her. "Willy has two middle names, Mother. Something I've never heard of, but he has them all the same. Surely Willy James Lee must be skipping down the golden streets, playing ball with the other children in paradise along about now. I was just hoping that you might be able to look out for him, dear Mother. He was such a fragile boy. Will you care for him for me?"

She couldn't quite get out until I can come and watch over him myself. Feelings of unworthiness kept her from voicing it, though she knew that someday she would have to reckon with her choice: either for or against the blessed faith of both young Willy and benevolent Laura. She could not continue on much longer, torn between her unyielding past and the indoctrination of her childhood and the gentle, life- giving passages of God's Word. And she was puzzled as to why it seemed that at every turn she kept stumbling into some biblical reminder of divine love.

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The day trip to Niagara Falls fell on the following Sunday, much to Katherine's dismay, although when she mentioned attending church, Justin promised to take her the next opportunity he had.

"The Taylors--Fulton and Rosie--go there," she told him, hoping to engage him in some conversation about his religious beliefs.

"Ah, churches.., they're a dime a dozen around here." His comment left her cold, though she continued to pursue the topic.

"Did your parents ever teach you about God when you were small?"

"Not, perhaps, as much as yours did, though I did attend an occasional summer church camp." He smiled at her from behind the wheel of his own car. They'd decided to abandon the limousine and chauffeur, giving them more privacy for the day. Actually; it was Justin's idea, and Katherine was rather glad about it.

"Church camp? What was it like?"

He mentioned a few hair-raising scenes of boys catching toads from the creek and hiding them in the girls' quarters, but nothing of spiritual substance.

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"What made it church related?" she inquired.

He reached over and took her hand. "Is everything all right today, Katherine? It seems you've talked of nothing but church and God since we left town."

She nodded. "Yes... I'm curious, I guess you could say." He squeezed her hand. "Your loss of young Willy, is it?"

Tears sprang up unexpectedly. "I... I miss him.., terribly," she stammered.

Justin pressed the turn signal and pulled over on the shoulder, slowing down gradually, then coming to a complete stop. "Katherine, darling." He gathered her into his arms, and she wept for the little boy who'd seemed to know her heart with such ease. "His pain is past," Justin whispered into her hair.

She snuggled next to him, her face against the smooth lapel of his overcoat. "I never thought he'd die .... "

"Sh-h, now, don't say more. You'll be fine, Katherine. I'll take good care of you."

When she'd regained her composure, the subject of Willy seemed to fade naturally, and she hoped her emotional state hadn't altered the course of the day.

"I want to show you my art studio sometime," he said later as they entered the Niagara Falls tourist area and headed for the lookout tower. "Would you like that?"

She smiled, glad her tears were over. "Very much."

"My painting is nearly complete now, and I'd like your opinion of it."

Hearing that he wanted to include her in his professional life--even just showing her around his work studio--was an exhilarating thought. "I'd be happy to see your work."

They found a parking spot close to the lookout on the American side, and Katherine was in awe of the movement of the vast river as it plunged over the falls. Even at this distance, the mighty surge of power was riveting.

Standing next to Justin, she felt a bit nervous at the

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thunderous roar. To think that stunt men had braved tightropes and barrels and lived to tell about it!