Secret, The (24 page)

Here came Josiah, waving him down. “Mind if we have a word, Judah?” The preacher had caught him off guard in the yard where the menfolk lined up to file into the house for the Lord’s Day gathering.

“Jah, fine.” He followed the younger man out to the barn. It was important to demonstrate a willing spirit, even though he was already becoming weary of the questions. No matter how many were asked, none could bring Lettie back.

They walked to the sheep side of the barn and Preacher Josiah asked to see the newest set of twin lambs. A Scripture verse came to mind, one Judah had read so many times he’d committed it to memory without even trying.
They that wait
upon the Lord shall renew their strength . . . they shall run, and not
be weary.

Judah felt tense as the preacher made small talk about the weather for longer than necessary. Unlike the deacon, Josiah had never been one to leap into a particular topic but rather preferred to wander around to it. So, biding his time, Judah remained patient as they walked toward the pasture.

Judah noticed the last few horses were being unhitched, back in the driveway. Most of the membership had arrived, and he wondered if the preacher might be setting him up as an example.
Hard to imagine that of Preacher Josiah, though.

He kept up with the preacher’s long stride, and finally Josiah got to the point. “Your wife’s been absent from Preaching off and on since March,” he began.

“Jah, twice.”

“For health reasons, would ya say?”

The hair on Judah’s arms prickled. “She never said.”

The morning sun cast a wan light over the grazing sheep. Kindly, the minister placed a hand on Judah’s shoulder. “I take it Lettie didn’t say she was leavin’?”

Judah shook his head.

Preacher Smucker looked down at his feet, shifted them, and removed his straw hat. “Well, I don’t mean to put you on the spot. You’ve heard the rumors ’bout Lettie and another man.” His voice was quiet. “Would you know of any reason for your wife to go away?”

Judah resisted the question. Up until now, he’d refused to consider the possibility. But what if the rumors were true?

He recalled how affectionate he had been with Lettie early on in their marriage, like any young couple. Those days of passion had produced four healthy children.

He glanced toward the house, bustling with activity as the crowd swelled. Drawing a long breath, he removed his hat, holding it in front of him. “I’ve been remiss as to my wife,” he confessed. “Not as attentive as I should be . . . confidentially speaking.”

A slow frown gathered on Preacher’s brow. “Husbands are not to deprive their wives, and vice versa—except, as the Scripture says, to ‘give yourselves to fasting and prayer.’ ”

Judah bristled. In his defense, he might have mentioned that raising sheep took every ounce of his energy—had for years. He was no longer a young buck. Sure, he could offer any number of legitimate excuses, but none would hold up in Josiah’s eyes.

Nor the Lord’s.

“I can assure you, Lettie’s not the sort to stray” was all he could manage to say.

“I see.” The preacher straightened. “If what you say is true, then surely she’ll return. And we’ll discuss this further at that time, if need be.”

Josiah extended his hand and Judah shook it.

Preacher raised his hat to his head and set it down on his thinning hair. “I won’t be speakin’ with the brethren on this,” he said, his gaze fixed on Judah.

Judah’s throat felt as dry as dust, his mouth too parched to speak. He nodded his appreciation, then watched the kindly minister hurry back toward the house.

Running his fingers over the edge of his hat, he felt the relief of having come clean, his transgression laid bare before the man of God.

Judah put on his hat and headed to the barn to check on his expectant ewes once more before the start of Preaching.

Grace saw her father walking back from the barn, his shoulders visibly slumped. She’d noticed Preacher Smucker strolling with him earlier, though the man had returned to the other ministerial brethren some minutes ago, ready to get church underway.

He’s heard about Mamma.
She swallowed hard.
Has
everyone?

She saw Henry arriving with his family, and when he looked her way, he smiled faintly and gave a quick, discreet nod of the head. There was no way to tell from his cautious gestures if he was upset at the news swirling about Mamma’s disappearance, since Henry had always been prudent in his greeting at Preaching services. Even at Singings, he was subdued.

Will he want to marry into the Byler family now?

It would certainly make an upstanding young man think twice, she guessed. She had better dismiss the niggling thought, or her ability to pay close attention today would be out the window.

Glancing over her shoulder, Grace saw Henry line up to enter, his face hidden from view.

Heather spent Sunday morning sleeping in, vaguely aware of her dad’s arrival sometime after midnight. The garage door’s rumble had awakened her momentarily, but she’d fallen back into slumber.

She dreamed of a long weekend with her mother in Amish country, and in the dream Mom, completely well again, was pointing out some beautiful blossoming pink and yellow plants. There was the sound of water trickling, lending a peace to their surroundings. All was well . . . Heather and her mother were relaxed and happy, together once again.

When she awakened, Heather wondered if the dream was confirmation she was doing the right thing by returning to Pennsylvania to get well.

Later, at breakfast, which was late enough to be brunch, she sat with her dad, watching him eat his usual sugar-laden cereal, with a small dish of applesauce—cinnamon sprinkled on top. “The works,” he said, wearing navy sweats, his dark hair rumpled. He took a sip of his coffee and set it down next to his OJ. “Feels great to be home.”

“I was beginning to think you’d gone on a never-ending trip.” She leaned forward, blowing on her coffee. “Sounds like you succumbed to an impulse purchase.”

His sleepy eyes shone as he described the parcel of land, which the former owners had reluctantly carved from their larger acreage. “They were in need of emergency cash, and they sold as little as they could—only four acres. I guess back there, that’s really too small for a farmer to do much with.”

“So what are
you
going to do with it?” She ran her fingers through her hair, still damp from her shower. “Are you serious about a hobby farm?”

He smiled, radiating confidence. “I’m leaning more toward growing potatoes. You might be surprised at how much fun it could be. I think you’d like it, too.”

“I have a phobia about dirt under my fingernails and multi­legged creatures that fly, don’t forget.”

“Well
, I’m
ready for the next chapter in my life. I’ve had it with the corporate fast track, for one, and besides . . .” Here, he paused for so long she wondered if he’d forgotten what was on his mind. “Your mother was crazy about that area. She told me countless times she wanted to retire there someday.”

She agreed. “Obsessed with the place, yeah . . .”

“I’ll start building a house in a while.” His face was alight with the possibility. “Will you help come up with a plan for a small, old-style farmhouse? The kind of house unique to the back roads?” He paused, a faraway look in his eyes. “Doesn’t make sense to build something contemporary in Amish country, does it?”

“Sure, I’ll help you design it.” Heather got up for more coffee. If she stayed sitting, she might easily cry. That would never do, not today. Nope, for the first time since Mom’s passing, Dad’s sights were set on the future, and no way would she interfere with that.

Grace appreciated all the help from the womenfolk during and after the common meal. Marian Riehl, along with Aunts Lavina and Mary Beth, acted as self-appointed shadows.

Opening the side door to the kitchen, Grace propped it wide with the doorstop. Several blossoming lilac bushes she and Mamma had planted years before gave the air a delightful sweetness.

She glanced down at the springhouse and saw Yonnie Bon-trager talking with Becky. It was a little odd to see them together in such seclusion, but who could resist Yonnie’s contagious laughter and merry spirit?

Looking away to give them privacy, she noticed Henry out near the woodshed with several other young fellows. And surely plenty of gossip was spreading now that everyone had seen for themselves that Mamma was nowhere around.

There was much left to do to clean up after the big meal, what with a record attendance this Lord’s Day. Uncanny, really. The sadness—even disbelief—of nearly every woman present had been overwhelmingly apparent.

Returning to the kitchen to help wipe down the tabletops, each comprised of several benches, Grace was relieved to see Mammi Adah talking with Deacon Amos’s mother. She and Dawdi Jakob both seemed quieter than usual, sitting at the table with the eldest of the group, finishing up their slices of snitz. Becky, her mother, and many of their extended family had baked many pies for the occasion, and Grace went over to offer her thanks.

One of the kindest neighbors ever.

She finished drying off the tables, except where the older folk still lingered, and was just returning to the sink when Becky came up behind her, face beaming.

Becky tugged on her sleeve gently. “Come! I must talk to ya.” Her friend led her outside and down the driveway a bit, past the front porch and the mailbox. Grace would check it again tomorrow for word from Mamma.

“Ach, can ya keep a secret?” Becky’s big eyes twinkled her joy.

“Well, don’t you look awful pleased this Lord’s Day,” Grace said.

Becky gripped her hand, pulling her closer. “Yonnie’s close to decidin’ who he’ll court.”

“He told you this outright?” Grace thought it presumptuous.

Becky laughed and shook her head. “That’s just his way. Truth is, I have a feelin’ I just might be one of the girls he’s considerin’. Oh, Gracie—can it be?”

“Well, you know what I think already.”

“But not what
Yonnie
thinks.”

Grace laughed. “I say you’ll be surprised when he makes his choice. You wait and see if I’m not right.”

“You’re a peach.” Becky kissed her cheek. Then quickly her expression changed to concern. “Ach, I shouldn’t be goin’ on so . . . not with you—”

“Now, don’t even mention it. I’m awful happy for ya, honest.”

“You goin’ to be all right?” Becky asked, her eyes solemn.

“Why, sure.” Grace remembered something. “Becky, can you come up to my room real quick?” They hurried back to the house and up the stairs to Grace’s room. She showed her the case of colored pencils. “Remember these?”

“Jah. And goodness, they’re just beautiful. . . .” Becky lifted out the pale blue pencil and held it in her hand.

“I want you to have them.”

“Oh, Gracie—are ya sure? They were
your
birthday gift, after all.”

Nodding, Grace gave her the case. “Make more pictures of hummingbirds, if you want to. I’d love that.”

Becky smiled, eyes blinking. “I can hardly believe this. Denki!” She gave Grace a quick hug.

“Might be best not to tell the Spangler girls, ya know.”

“I’ll keep mum, not to worry.” Becky eyed her. “You
sure
you’ll be all right?”

“I live each day as it comes.” Grace wanted to be strong. “But it’s just like you to be so caring.”

An hour later, after Becky had run off to find her family and head home, Grace realized she’d forgotten to tell her friend her own good news.

She smiled at Yonnie’s unique—even peculiar—approach to finding a life mate. Curious as it seemed to some, there was something to be said for taking one’s time in the matter.
For
sure and for certain, he’ll make Becky mighty happy.