The Missing (12 page)

Susan mentioned several other families in their farm community who’d actually gone overseas to places like Romania and China to adopt children.

“Amish couples?” Lettie asked, surprised.

“Some, jah. Lots of Mennonite families especially have gone the route of foreign adoption.”

As they rode, Lettie was aware of the sound of the carriage wheels
click-clack
ing on the road, the occasional snort of the horse’s nostrils. Wonderful-
gut
sounds. Susan lovingly referred to the bay mare as “Molly.” Watching the horse’s head rise and fall with her rythmic movements, Lettie couldn’t help but enjoy herself in the front seat of the old carriage.

They talked of the pleasant springtime weather, and Susan brought up May’s hobby of beekeeping. “Ach, Lettie, I’ve never seen anyone so pleased as May was last month when she received nearly four pounds of honeybees in the mail. They come in a wooden crate, ya know.”

Lettie nodded. “Our neighbors back home are beekeepers, too. They sometimes share their raw honey with us.”

“There’s nothing like it, is there?” Susan commented as they rode down the main street, toward the little motel where Lettie was lodging.

Lettie quickly thought ahead to what she might say to the owner. She could not afford to lose the money she’d paid in advance for her room. No telling how much longer she’d have to be away—how much cash she would need to stay afloat.

Feeling impolite for letting her mind drift, Lettie focused again on Susan, who continued to describe the many aspects of beekeeping: the queen cage, the worker bees, the new hive, and the building of honeycomb for a bee nursery. “May’s just so excited to watch the bees come back to the hive, all laden with pollen.” She sighed happily. “Seems to me, spring creeps right up on a person, ain’t so?”

Lettie agreed. She’d experienced that while staying in Kidron last month, seeing the newly planted fields turn from brown to dazzling green, a sight she’d always enjoyed during this season. And the gold of daffodils and pink dogwood trees . . . and dozens of beautiful hummingbirds.

“There’s nothin’ like a new honeycomb in a new hive to bring that home, seems to me,” Susan continued.

Never having kept bees, Lettie could only listen. But the way Susan talked so warmly of her “bee-lovin’ neighbor”—and Lettie’s own curiosity about May’s adopted children—made her hope all the more she might be able to get her money refunded. She was so drawn to the idea of staying with Susan.

“Is this here the place?” Susan asked as they approached the motel with window boxes filled with red and white petunias.

“Jah, just park in the back.” Lettie was torn between pulling up stakes here to go to Susan’s house, and longing for her own house on Beechdale Road. But she’d already committed herself this far.
Sure hope I’m makin’ the right choice.

“You’ll be very comfortable at my home,” Susan said.

True, but I can’t stay long,
thought Lettie
.
She opened the buggy door and made her way to the motel entrance.

“
Nee—
no, I wouldn’t think of startin’ on another house till the work’s done on yours.” Josiah Smucker was leaning over his wife’s kitchen table. Younger than Heather had expected—perhaps in his mid-thirties—Josiah was drawing a rough map of Heather’s father’s plot of land, taking into consideration the location of Mill Stream. He pointed out the creek to Heather but continued directing his conversation to her dad. “I can tell ya this, Mr. Nelson, I have no slackers on my crew. That’s how we get things done quickly. That, and I’ve got me a
gut
many workers, all doin’ their jobs at once.”

“Please, call me Roan.”

Josiah grinned, ran his hand through his thick brown hair, and accepted a tall glass of homemade lemonade from his darling pink-faced daughter. “Would ya like some, too?” the girl asked Heather next.

“Sure, thanks,” Heather said
.

Her dad marked the area where three massive trees stood on the property. “You should know my daughter and I are tree huggers,” he told Josiah, winking at Heather. “Is it possible to preserve them?”

Josiah nodded his head vigorously. “The way my men and I look at it, whatever the Lord sees fit to put on the land stays there.”

Her dad nodded. “Wonderful.” He glanced at Heather, smiling. “My daughter and I will meet with the draftsman and go over the blueprints tomorrow. She’s staying at an Amish bed-and- breakfast close by . . . and I’ll try to get a room on Route 340 somewhere.”

Josiah peered over his shoulder at his pretty wife, who stood at the sink, washing dishes. “Well, if that doesn’t work out, let us know. We have two spare rooms. So anytime you’re in town, Roan, just let us know.”

Heather was again struck by the uncommon hospitality of these people. And because there had been no talk this evening of cost, she assumed her father had already discussed price and payment with this man who could raise a two-story barn in a single day, as well as preach a sermon to a houseful of Amish folk. It boggled her mind.

Mom would never believe this!

The thought of her mother and the courageous battle she’d fought and lost with cancer brought Heather’s thoughts back to the radical approach to eating LaVyrle had advocated. But first the hardest part—the ten-day lodge program down the road.

Surely LaVyrle’s way would be easier than chemo and radiation.
Anything else would have to be!
She’d witnessed the conventional medical route firsthand and had no desire to go there. Marian Riehl, on the other hand, had been completely accommodating of Heather’s request this morning to steep some green tea for her in lieu of the usual coffee. And Heather had taken her food supplements in the bathroom upstairs before coming down for breakfast. Other than her slipup this evening, things had gone pretty well since yesterday’s appointment.

So this is how best-laid plans go awry,
she thought, once more realizing that the diet she was considering was going to take some remarkable willpower. Not to mention a fair amount of reprogramming.
I’ll have to send out a memo. . . .

Sighing, she was conscious again of her gaping waistband, surprised her dad hadn’t made more of her weight loss.
He’s
being polite . . . or he’s too caught up in his new adventure.

She cringed at the thought of laying her bad news on him—she felt distressed even trying to imagine such a conversation. But how long could she afford to wait on the recommendation LaVyrle had so wholeheartedly urged?

Am I playing Russian roulette?

Without any pleading whatsoever, Lettie was pleasantly surprised to receive a refund for the balance of her intended stay at the motel. “God bless you,” the kindly woman said after counting out the bills.

Lettie thanked her and pushed the money into her purse, then headed for the parking lot. “It won’t take me but a few minutes to pack my things,” she told Susan as she hurried off to the room.

When she’d double-checked the vanity and bathroom area for her personal items, she folded her clothes into the suitcase and zipped it shut. Before leaving, she placed several dollar bills on the desk as a tip for housekeeping, along with the room key.

A small miracle, this,
she thought, returning to the buggy.

Susan agreed when Lettie mentioned it. “God has a way of directing our ev’ry step, I’ll say.”

Even when we run away from home?
She pondered her own decision again, what it meant to be absent in the midst of the busiest time of the year. Lambing season had always been so hard on Judah, and she breathed a prayer for strength for her hardworking husband even as the sound of Molly’s
clip-clopp
ing began to ease her nerves. She relaxed in the seat, traveling for at least a mile without speaking. It was odd, because Susan had been so talkative earlier.

“You must be weary from the day,” Lettie said.

“Not so much tired as nervous.” Susan pointed ahead to the tall house on the corner. “See a ways up there? For the past few weeks, every time I’ve made this turn, I’ve been pelted by either small stones or acorns. They just come flyin’ right into the carriage.”

“What on earth?”

Susan looked surprised. “You mean you don’t have this problem in Lancaster?”

“Occasionally, but it’s not something we hear much about. There are more incidents of cars speeding round buggies and whatnot.”

“Well, it happens too often here. In the summer and fall, the boys even throw rotten fruit, most often apples. And there are many thoughtless pranks, ’specially during the harvest. Plenty of troublesome things go on in October all over Ohio Amish country, I’m afraid.”

“Because of Halloween, maybe?” Lettie couldn’t imagine another reason.

“Maybe so. I don’t know so much about the English. It’s even become something of a tradition amongst the
Amish
here to pull tricks on each other—at least at harvest.”

“Like what?”

Susan laughed a little now. “Well, for instance, putting two buggies on top of a house. That happened not long ago.”

“On the roof?” She could scarcely even picture such a thing! “How’d they get up there?”

Susan gave a wave of her hand. “Oh, there’s ways, if you’ve got a bunch of young bucks with too much to drink.”

There was some trouble with alcohol back home, too. Lettie shuddered to think of their young people choosing to go down that dead-end road. It seemed the newspapers made a heyday of that from time to time . . . playing up the rebellion of only a few of their youth to boost subscriptions.

Now they were approaching the corner house. Lettie leaned forward cautiously to study its white clapboard and dark green shutters, watching for the culprits to come running across the lawn.

She held her breath as the horse slowed up to make the turn at the corner and then hurried to a trot. With arms stiff, Susan held the reins. “Be sure and cover your eyes if something comes flyin’,” she advised.

Lettie clenched her jaw, suddenly thinking of Judah. Did he ever worry about her, away from the safety of his covering and care? Poor man, he did not even know if she was living in the modern world or with their kinfolk.

Wishing she’d written more details in her recent letter, she recalled his loving concern during her pregnancies . . . the tender way he had helped her in and out of the family carriage.
Not so long ago.
Would they ever have such tenderness between them again?

The fond memory slipped away as the horse and buggy passed the white house and moved along the length of the backyard. “We’re almost in the clear,” Lettie said, hoping it was true.

“For this trip, maybe.” Susan glanced at her, eyebrows raised. “Are you all right?”

Lettie said she was. “Frankly, I wish you hadn’t told me. I’ll be ever so jittery now . . . there, at that corner.”

“Well, if you come to town on your own, you’ll know what to watch for.”

Lettie appreciated Susan’s concern.

“My husband had a kindly way of unnerving those kids, back when he was still alive.” Susan’s voice cracked. “Vernon would turn and wave and grin at them while the rotten fruit just came a-flyin’. The nicest man I’ve ever known . . .”

They were quiet for a time. Then Susan said softly, “Seems like just yesterday he was sittin’ here, driving me to town. Ach, I miss him so.” She dabbed at her eyes with a hankie. “Still, I wouldn’t wish him back, not since he’s gone to Glory.”

Lettie’s heart went out to Susan. “How long ago?”

“Nearly three years now.”

Lettie shared that her dearest sister had also passed away. “Naomi was my closest friend . . . as well as my sister. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten over her passing.”

“I know that feeling all too well.” Susan nodded knowingly. “And what a blessing when two sisters are that close.”

“Oh . . . don’t misunderstand me: The Lord gave me some wonderful-
gut
siblings. But Naomi was mighty special. She not only loved me . . . she liked me, too.”

“There
is
a difference.” Susan seemed more relaxed now. The lines lay loose on her lap. “Do any of your siblings live in Ohio?”

Undoubtedly Susan was itching to know why she’d come to Baltic. “Most all my relatives are back in Lancaster County,” Lettie told her. It struck her once again that her grown firstborn son—or daughter—could very well be living nearby, unknown to her. The thought nearly took her breath away.

“At the restaurant, you mentioned hopin’ to visit someone.”

She drew in a shallow breath. “Jah, I’ve been looking but can’t seem to find this person.”

“I wouldn’t mind helping . . . that is, if I’m not pushin’ my nose in.”

Lettie hoped Susan wouldn’t be confused or even misled if she revealed her eagerness to locate a particular midwife. She considered what she ought to say, recalling that her mother often urged her to at least say
something
. To get the words out rather than to think it through till she knew precisely how to express herself.
Sometimes that’s the hardest part of all.

Feeling suddenly tired, she asked quietly, “Do you know of a woman in the area named Minnie Keim?”

Susan frowned. “You mean Perry’s Minnie?”

“Jah.” Lettie gave her a searching look.

“Sure, I know her. She’s a well-known midwife . . . and a counselor for young girls. Unwed mothers, mostly.”

“Oh?” Lettie’s hands went limp. “That’s just who I came to see.”

“Well, I know right where she and her husband are stayin’.” Susan explained that they’d recently moved in with Minnie’s uncle and aunt, after Perry had been laid off and was unable to afford their rent.

“How far from your place?” asked Lettie.

“Three miles, if that.”

Only fifteen minutes away by horse and buggy
, she thought, her heart aching with anticipation.
Soon, ever so soon, I’ll know
something about my child. . . .

chapter
twelve

T
he musky sweetness of lilacs hung in the air the next morning as Grace made haste to the stable. She’d gotten up extra early to be with Willow, anxious for even the smallest sign of improvement.
“Such miracles are few and far between,”
Adam had cautioned her yesterday after evening prayers.