Heritage of Lancaster County 03 The Reckoning (8 page)

"Daniel would never have tricked me .... "

Shifting gears, he kept his eyes on the lane in front of him, moving in and out of traffic only when necessary. How

76

good it would be to see his Mennonite friends again, to sing praises to God, to hear the message by the Lord's anointed. Owen Hess and his wife, Eve, would be eager to see him, no doubt. But they would not inquire beyond courtesy as to Dan's trip to Canandaigua; thankfully, he could count on that.

If this had been Monday and he were headed for the of-rice, his somber mood may have affected his work, distracting him beyond his ability to pull his thoughts away from Katie. Even with business typically slow this time of year, he'd have had to force himself to concentrate. He knew that. Yet ceaseless memories flooded his mind every waking minute. The past five years had been filled up with similar

thoughts. In reality, nothing had changed.

"I wish you'd never come here. "

He turned into the paved driveway that led to a parking lot behind the church building. Switching off the ignition, he pulled hard on the hand brake, then checked his watch. A few minutes to spare.

"Dear Lord," he prayed, "I ask for your strength today. Help me release Katie--Katherine, as she now calls her-self--to your safekeeping and care. Yet help" me win her to you. Open doors so that I may witness to her of your love and saving grace. I'm ready to do your will, no matter the cost. In Jesus' name. Amen."

Opening his eyes, he gazed through the windshield at the sun doing its best to pierce the gray pall of smoke and clouds. He scanned a stand of trees situated between crowded buildings, their spartan limbs like three- and four-pronged pitchforks thrust against the misery of the pollu-

In spite of his prayer, Dan was smitten with gloom and might as well have worn mourning clothes to announce it to the world.

As he looked on, several other vehicles pulled in and

77

parked on either side. It was time to get out of the car and head into the white-columned Colonial-style church. Friends waved cheerful greetings, and though Dan might're given in to the urge to simply back out of the lot and drive home, he pressed on, eager to find solace in worship and the preaching of the Word. And especially today, he needed the fellowship of brothers and sisters in Christ.

Katherine felt sorry about having to decline Rosie's thoughtful invitation to attend church services with her and her husband.

"Perhaps some other time," Rosie said with a smile. "Do take care of yourself, Katherine."

She hoped Rosie would understand. It wasn't that she had no interest in going to the church where Laura had been a member; there was so much more to it. Katherine felt terribly tired, emotionally exhausted from a night of tossing about in bed crying, even though she willed the tears to stop. Her world had tilted nearly off its axis yesterday. Everything ... everything had changed. Even her dinner plans with Justin Wirth were now in question. And there was the letter to Mar; mailed just hours before Daniel's appearance.

Oh, if she'd only known, she might not have dictated the letter to Rosie at all, might not have started up such a preposterous correspondence. Her desire to reach out to her Amish girlfriend might've been hampered, truly, by her knowledge that Dan was alive.

She sighed deeply, deciding to spend the morning in her bedroom, taking her breakfast there. She preferred to stay put--alone, still wearing her nightgown and robe.

The weather played a role in her lethargy, she was nearly sure, and she sat near the window, watching the snow pile

78

up, hoping her butler and maid had arrived at church safely.

After she'd eaten her breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and juice, she slipped back under the covers, desiring a reprieve from troubled thoughts. Trying her best to relax, she began to sing softly in German, an old song from her childhood. "What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and

griefs to bear "

Griefs to bear.

The words filled up the hollow places in her heart, and she wondered about Laura's love for Jesus amidst the perplexing reality of her own life. It was hard to imagine the Son of God understanding her grief, leaning over the balconies of heaven to be intimately involved in one person's life. The idea seemed worldly, even heretical.

Turning on her side, she drew her knees up and wrapped her hands around her stomach, trying to get warm enough . . . secure enough to sleep again.

Several hours later, close to dinnertime, Justin Wirth phoned. Leoma, one of the several elder housemaids, came to the French doors leading to the secluded sitting room where Katherine was lounging. "Mister Wirtl is on the line for you, Miss Katherine."

"Thank you," she said, reaching for the telephone on the small table next to her.

Justin's voice sounded edgy. "Hello, Katherine. I hope my calling this late won't upset your plans for the day, but the roads are becoming treacherous, according to news reports. I don't think it would be wise to risk taking you out on a night like this. I'm afraid the castle will have to wait."

Katherine was secretly relieved. She hadn't felt she could pull off such an event anyway--not the way she was suffering. "I understand."

"Would it be all right if I called again in a few days?" he asked. "Maybe then we can plan for another time."

"Yes... when the storm is past."

79

He paused. "Well, I trust this snow will end quickly." They said good-bye without chatting further. She hoped she hadn't been too abrupt or aloof. Thinking back, she wondered if she might've mentioned something about looking forward to seeing him again. Something kind and gracious like that.

But she hadn't felt at all kindly toward him. Hadn't felt much of anything, really. Truth be told, she wished she were as young as her dreams last night. If so, she'd crawl right up in Dat's lap and let him rock her to her heart's content in his great big hickory rocker. And when she grew tired of it, she'd munch on one of Mamma's whoopie pies till she was that close to a stomachache. That's just what she'd do if she weren't all grown up and... English.

After the morning worship service, Dan was invited to have dinner at a restaurant with Owen and Eve Hess. "Our treat," Owen said, wearing a broad grin. "We haven't seen much of you lately."

Politely, Dan asked for a rain check. "I'd like very much to eat with you, but--well, it won't suit this time. I hope you'll understand."

Eve linked her arm in her husband's, casting a curious gaze on Dan. "Are you feeling all right?" she asked as they moved down the church aisle toward the foyer.

"A bit under the weather, I suppose," he replied, not wanting to go into how he really felt.

"Very well, then, I'll see you tomorrow at the office." Owen gave a broad smile and turned to go.

It had begun to sleet during Sunday school, and as Dan made his way out of the church, he noticed that the parking lot had glazed over. Gingerly, he headed for his car and

80

started it, letting the engine warm up while he scraped the ice off his windows.

Back in the car, he waited his turn, while church traffic snarled in the lot, tires spinning and vehicles lurching forward. Well, he was in no hurry. He reached over on the seat and picked up his Bible, thumbing through it till he found the letter he'd written to Katie the night before he visited Mayfield Manor. Holding it, he stared at the words, not seeing them but recalling Katie's demeanor, her modern dress . . the changes her appearance had taken in the more than five years since he'd last seen her. Still as attractive as ever-- same fiery hair, same bright brown eyes--yet her speech patterns, her choice of words, had thrown him somewhat as he sat in the well-furnished parlor. The lack of Amish attire, the absence of the head covering especially, and the stylish haircut had mystified him. Yet he assumed that she, too, must surely be grappling with the same unfamiliar images as she stared back at him.

In all the years he'd known her, Katie had never worn makeup. Never sought after or needed beauty aids. He wondered what had led her away from her Plainupbringing. The way she carried herself--her posture--spoke of a finishing school somewhere. But when would she have attended such a place? And why?

He was curious about her birth mother, the woman Katie had set out to find. Had Katie discovered and embraced qualities in her biological mother--traits she'd never known in Rebecca Lapp?

Dan turned on the windshield wipers. The snow was falling more heavily now, and inadvertently, he glanced in his rearview mirror and noticed a lady driver motioning for him to back out. He waved his thanks, chuckling softly to himself.

Ruth Stine. A sweet young lady, one that several of his single friends had mentioned on occasion. Owen and Eve,

81

as well. He knew better than to think that any of them might arrange for a get-together with Ruth without his consent. Yet at the same time, he had never told those same friends of his sweetheart girl, now the mistress of an impressive estate. Though Owen had heard the story of Dan's long-ago love--at least some of it--he had no idea that Dan had met face-to-face with Katherine as recently as yesterday.

It would not do to try to explain things. Not since his encounter with the modern Katie had blown up in his face. And, really, what could he expect? Impulsive and headstrong, Katie had often exerted herself in a rather forceful way. Even durirlg their courting years, she'd fired questions at him. Why was he going off to a Bible study, of all things? Why did he have so many friends outside the Amish church?

He was quite certain she'd suspected him of associating with Mennonites during those years. He hadn't gone out of his way to keep that part of his social life from her. And if it had seemed so, it was only out of concern for her, not wanting to stir up religious doubts in Katie, not wanting her to think that the Amish life might not have been right ....

The drive home was less stressful; traffic was sparse due to the snowstorm and icy roads. He thought of what he might cook for lunch, remembering the savory aroma and the mouth-watering taste of oven-fried chicken. Such a "plain-good" recipe! He'd copied it onto an index card years ago while living alone for the first time. The secret was in the amount of butter used. Planning this tasty treat occupied his mind as he turned cautiously onto the side street-- his street--too narrow and deserted to be either plowed or sanded, even in a ferocious storm.

He parked the car by the curb and ducked his head against the stiff wind. Inside the house, Dan removed his coat and scarf, flinging it over the coatrack in the small en

82

tryway. Hurrying to the refrigerator, he opened the freezer, took out a package of frozen chicken and stuck it in the microwave, setting the control to automatic defrost. He went to the kitchen window and stood there, watching the snow--thick as goose down--fall through the gray fog. Thoughts of Katie filled his mind, his heart. He wondered now if perhaps she was right. Maybe he should have left well enough alone. Had he erred in locating her--going to the mansion unannounced, disturbing her life in such a manner?

Unable to think of much else, he felt the need to pray for her, pray that she might encounter someone--some- thing--to lead her to faith in the Lord Jesus.

Turning back to the chore at hand, he gathered the ingredients to prepare the chicken--flour, salt, poultry seasoning, pepper, and butter--something to do to keep his hands busy. A man ought to allow himself a big meal in the middle of the day, if only to fortify himself against the pain of love lost.., love wasted and betrayed.

83

In Hickory Hollow the Amishwomen all looked alike, Katherine recalled while snowed in for the second day in a row. She sat snug by the fire in the enormous library, reading A Girl of the Limberlost, captivated by the similarities between herself and Elnora Comstock, a girl who caught moths to pay for her schooling. Elnora, a young woman growing up in Indiana during the 1860s, lived by the Golden Rule, loved nature, and longed to be loved by her mother.

Sighing, Katherine could almost feel the drab brown dress around her own ankles as she read the excruciating account of Elnora's first day of high school, entering the auditorium to taunts and jeers. She knew just how this dear girl from "the olden days" had felt. Katherine, too, had experienced the selfsame thing, usually while running errands in town at Central Market or at Roots, another gathering place where Amish farmers and other merchants sold their wares.

People, especially tourists, liked to gawk. She keenly remembered her feelings of resentment at being the object of ridicule, even if she never said anything about it. All the Plain women attracted attention--the way they pulled their hair into tight buns at the back of their heads, the severe

84

clothing, the devotional head coverings. Looking the same as every other woman in Hickory Hollow had made her feel empty. Yet, at the age of thirteen, while her best friend had begun to fill out, growing rounder by the day, Katherine was still slender and underdeveloped. At times, she'd scrutinized Mary and the other girls in her grade at school, thankful for the differences between their bodies and hers. Even the shapes and sizes of their shadows at recess offered her reason to rejoice, for it was only in the dim reflections that she could sometimes see her own individuality.

"Right nippy out, jah?" Mary's mother came in, carrying more wood for the cookstove.

Monday being washday, Mary had nearly frozen her fingers hanging the wash out front on the porch. "Don't think I ever remember a January this cold," she said, going over to the stove to help push pieces of wood into the fire below.

"Guess we come to that conclusion every winter. It near bruises the bones, I daresay," Rachel said, heading for the sink to wash her hands.

Mary set to work, making ready for bread baking and whatnot. "Come next Sunday, we'll have a houseful of folk," she remarked, thinking ahead to their turn for Preaching services. Bishop John would come with his five motherless children and stand in the front room of this very house, opening the Scriptures and reading aloud whole chapters at a time.