Heritage of Lancaster County 03 The Reckoning (25 page)

Ella Mae was still, eyes fixed on her.

"I knew there would come a day like this.., sure as the heavens." Katherine searched her skirt pocket for a tissue. "I've felt it for months now." She paused to dry her eyes. "Oh, Ella Mae, I think you're right. God is calling me."

The Wise Woman closed her eyes, and tears squeezed out of the corners. Leaning her head back against the rocker, she remained that way without speaking--abso- lutely motionless--until Katherine thought she'd passed on to glory.

"Ella Mae?"

Weary eyes fluttered. "Praise be" came the raspy reply. "I prayed I'd live to see this day."

Katherine got down on her knees beside the rocking chair. Looking up at the Wise Woman, she pleaded with her; the ache in her heart had become unbearable. "Will you... help lead me to your Jesus?"

After her tearful prayer, Katherine felt light as the clouds flitting across the afternoon sky. She stood in the window, marking the moment. She memorized the way the sun's rays cast a holy light on Hickory Lane, on the many-sided martin birdhouse in the front yard, on the wide, toothed leaves of the elm tree.

A warm breeze blew against her face and hair, and she knew she was a child of God. "My birth mother should be singing with the angels along about now."

Ella Mae cocked her head, thoughtfully. "I think I hear music." Katherine leaned down and kissed her aunt, so weak and

245

small there in her chair. "I'll never forget this day ... or what you did for me."

"What Jesus did for you," Ella Mae said, a smile bursting across her ashen face.

"Yes," said Katherine. "What Jesus did for me."

She hadn't considered the idea of accommodations, though acquiring a room for a night or two would not be a problem. It was out of the question to think of staying in any of the Amish homes in the district. None of the People would risk putting up a shunned woman, especially a "saved" one.

"Will ya be visitin' Mary While you're here? And Rebecca?" Ella Mae asked as Katherine was about to leave. "They'll be heartsick if ya don't."

"I hope to see as many folk as I can." She patted the back

of her aunt's hand. "I'll come again tomorrow."

"I'll be here... Lord willin'."

On the way out of the Dawdi Haus, Katherine waved to several of the children--young Sally Beiler and her cousins, Ben, Noah, and Jake. How they'd grown, the boys especially.

Seeing the youngsters made her think of the bishop's family, and her thoughts flew to Mary. Dare she wander down the road to the bishop's place? She could hardly contain her joy; she had to tell her best friend about this won- derful-good day. The best day of her whole life!

She followed her heart, her feet skimming the lane. Before she knocked, Katherine peered in through the back screen door. She could see Mary scurrying here and there in the kitchen. Checking to see if John was around, she opened the door just enough for her to slip through. Then she tiptoed to the wide doorway leading from the out-

246

side utility room to the kitchen, and craning her neck around the corner, she waited till Mary might come over to the cookstove.

Just when her friend was at the right angle to spot her,

Katherine cupped her hands around her mouth. "Pst!" Mary stared, her mouth gaping.

"Kumm mit," Katherine whispered, motioning with her pointer finger.

"Katie? Is thatyou?" Mary rushed to her and embraced her in the privacy of the utility room. "Ach, girl, let me look at ya." They held on to each other's arms, twirling around.

Laughing, they hugged again. "I can't stay but a minute,

Mary, but I had to let you know I'm back."

"You've come home?"

"Just to visit. Ella Mae invited me."

"Jah, she's suffered so."

She couldn't stand there discussing her aunt's stroke, not with John bound to show up soon. "Meet me at our island tomorrow morning after milking. Can you get away?"

Mary thought for a second. "John's got some horses to shoe first thing after breakfast, and the children have their outdoor chores. $o, jah, I guess I can."

"Good... I'll see you there." She knew Mary needed no

description of their childhood retreat.

I'll be over soon as I can."

Katherine kissed her friend's plump cheek, then turned to go.

"Katie? Are ya married?"

"Not yet, why?"

Mary's eyes twinkled. "Well, ya just look so awful happy ... that's all."

247

"There's a right good reason for that. I'll explain it tomorrow."

"Gut, then," Mary whispered, seeing her to the lack door. "Hurry now, and God be with ya, dear friend."

"Oh, He is, Mary. He really is!"

248

249

It was a morning of bright haze. Sunlight poured into the upstairs bedroom at Lydia's. Katherine had had only to show up on the Millers' doorstep the evening before and she was taken in with open arms. "No rent due here," insisted Peter, grinning when he first spotted her.

So she was back in her former room, high in the eaves, close to the sky.., no, heaven. She'd had difficulty settling down to sleep after talking away the supper hour with Peter and Lydia, long after dishes were done. There was much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to hear from them as well. Questions to ask, prayers to be prayed, hymns to be sung. They were ever so delighted to hear of her life-chang- ing experience.

Now as she sat quietly in bed, contemplating her day with Mary, she read the Bible on the nightstand and afterward bowed her head. "Dear Lord Jesus, help me to share your love with my friend today. May she have an open heart. Amen."

She decided to go barefoot--it had been such a long time. And instead of wearing her hair down, she wound it up in a bun to keep her neck cool, wrapping a sheer scarf around it. The rayon dress she selected from her suitcase

250

was short-sleeved, a sage ground floral print with broomstick skirt. Last of all, the golden heart locket from Justin.

A big white duck waddled after her, following her all the way down the mule path, out past the thicket to the pond. She cast her gaze on the pink sky--surely a foretaste of heaven--and thanked the Lord for His fingerprints on all of nature.

The duck quacked behind her, and she turned to look down at him. He'd stopped a few feet away, his beak held up, just enough to appear inquisitive, not proud. His beady eyes were fixed on something in the distance.

"Are you thankful, too?" She had to laugh. Here she was, on the backstretch of her Amish father's land, conversing with a duck, of all things. Who would've thought when she left New York yesterday that her eyes would be opened to God's goodness, His love, everywhere she looked?

"Better run along now," she admonished him, hurrying to the rowboat.

Not to be discouraged, the old quacker plodded to catch up. Feeling sorry for him, she snatched him up and put him in the boat with her to wait for Mary. But he must not have wanted to be confined. Jumping out, he opened his wide wings and flapped to beat the band, landing in the water.

It wasn't long before Mary came running barefoot down the dusty path. "Been waitin' long?"

She shook her head. "Get in. We've got an island to explore and plenty of catching up to do."

They sat across from each other in the rowboat, just as they always had as children, laughing and talking, their voices echoing off the water as swallows trilled overhead.

251

Partway across the pond, Mary brought up Dan Fisher. "Word has it, he's given up on you."

"I suppose he has, and for all good reason." She explained about the visit in New York and his unexpected letter weeks later. "I never wrote back. Didn't see the need."

"Your lives have changed too much? Is that it?" "Everything's changed, Mary. Everything."

"So you know all about what happened to him, then-- why he decided to let us think he was dead after the boating accident?"

"Well, no. I never gave him a chance to. That day when he showed up out of nowhere ... I was so upset, I really couldn't think straight." She hung her head, suddenly ashamed. "I asked him to leave, actually."

Mary's eyes were understanding and kind, as always. "I 'spect that's all you could do."

"Mamma wrote once that Dan's story was a sad one, but I never bothered to ask what she meant."

So Mary began to tell her everything, how Dan had wanted to spare his loved ones--all the People, really--from having to shun him. "And especially you. It would've torn his heart out, having to endure you turnin' your back on him. He'd rather have been dead."

She sighed. "Which he was to us, all those years."

"He thought he was protecting us, I s'pose."

Katherine pondered these things in silence and wondered how Justin might feel if he knew she was discussing her first love, all these miles away.

"You look like you just had your first kiss," Mary said, staring right at her.

"I guess I do." She stopped rowing. Now was a befitting time to speak up about the glorious thing that had happened at Ella Mae's yesterday. "I don't know if you'll understand what I have to tell you," she began. "Lately, I've been hear-

252

ing, almost on every hand, that the Lord Jesus is close to us in everything we do."

Mary listened, still rowing toward the island.

Forging ahead, Katherine told about the New York minister's sermon and the very words she'd read for herself in Laura's Bible. She revealed, too, what things Dan had written in his long letter. "I understand now why he wanted to study the Bible... why he was always sneaking offto prayer meetings with the Mennonites."

Mary gave ear, though she wasn't as receptive as Katherine had hoped. Her reluctance came out of fear, no doubt.

"John wouldn't hear of this, would he?" Katherine asked finally.

Mary's deep frown gave her away. "You know what I believe, Katie. I'm trusting God for my salvation, and I do hope with all my heart that heaven will be my reward when I die."

She shook her head. "But we don't have to earn our way. Jesus died so that we could know our sins are forgiven--here and now."

Mary clammed up instantly. It seemed that enough seeds had been sown for one day.

Still, Katherine was bubbling over. "You must think I'm silly, talking about the Lord this way and not saying a word about confessing . . . returning to the Amish church."

"It's hard, not knowin' what to think." Mary's eyes were earnest.

The young women rowed all the way to the island. "I pray that you'll find this happiness, too," Katherine said, stepping out of the little boat onto dry land.

Mary nodded. "I'm as happy as I ever dreamed I'd be. John's a gut husband, and I love him."

Katherine said no more, lest she spoil things between

253

them. And when the air had cleared a bit, they began to relive the old days. They laughed together, carefree and childlike, as they ran among the willows, splashed each other in the pond, and tossed seeds to the ducks.

Out of breath, they sat on the grassy bank, overlooking the sparkling pond. They wiggled their bare toes, enjoying the hot sun.

Mary squinted up at the sky. "I 'spect it's about time I headed back home."

"Aren't much used to duckmeisich--sneak)lng off are you?"

Mary smiled, then her face grew serious. "It's time to put away childish things. I'm a wife and a mother. I've had my fun." She picked up two pebbles and tossed them into the pond. "Won't ya come home for gut?"

Katherine's heart ached. "I'm sorry.., really I am. I just don't see how."

Silently, they got in the boat and rowed away from the shore to the other side.

Hours later, Katherine heard a knock on Lydia's front screen door and went to investigate.

There stood Rebecca. "I heard you were back," she said, her hair disheveled some, apron smudged. "I rushed right over."

Katherine opened the door and wrapped her arms around the stout woman, hugging her hard. "Oh, Mamma, I'm glad you came!"

They stood gazing into each other's eyes for a time. "I figured comin' to see ya at Lydia's was the best thing."

She knew Rebecca was referring to the Meinding, which in spite of her furtive visit with Mary was still in force. Nothing much had changed. She was an outcast of the Peo-

254

ple, compelled to meet her best friend, and now her adoptive mother, in secret.

"I wanted to see you in the worst way, Mamma--my brothers, too--but didn't want to get Dat's are up."

Rebecca nodded, hazel eyes bright. "I figured so."

It was Katherine's idea to go upstairs to the room where she was staying. The house was peaceful and still, and the large bedroom afforded the hideaway they longed for.

Sitting opposite each other near the wide front window, both barefoot, they talked, eager to spend time together.

Katherine told her mother about her new friends, the

Esler girls. "They're Amish. Funny, isn't it?"

Rebecca agreed that it was.

"I've been doing volunteer work at a hospice in Canan- daigua. It's truly rewarding," she said, sharing the story of Willy and his family.

"You sound right settled at your new place." Rebecca's eyes narrowed a bit, though a slight smile presented itself.

"It's everything I've ever dreamed of--and more," she admitted.

"Home's where the heart is, ain't so?"

She had to say yes to that. Mamma was smart that way. "Well, sometime soon I'd like to pick up my chest of linens and things, maybe even the corner cupboard Dat made for me, if that's all right."

"Jah, that'd be just fine." Rebecca paused, her face peaked all of a sudden. "You'll be gettin' married soon, then?"

"Come fall, I'm thinking." It was enough to mention the wedding season, but she would bypass saying anything about Justin just now. "I would've written about it but didn't want to hurt you more than I already have. It's a sticky subject, I suspect."

255

"But ya wrote Mary 'bout it."

"Another one of my mistakes, probably."

Rebecca shook her head. "No... no, a body needs someone to talk to. I understand."