The Missing (16 page)

“You best be gettin’ back to work,” she suggested to keep the discussion from escalating further. Then, to try to smooth things over, she asked, “Would ya want a thermos of cold water to take along?”

His face was devoid of expression. “Sure, sister.”

She hurried to open the cupboard beneath the sink and reached for the thermos, then ran the faucet, waiting for the cold water. “So . . . will Yonnie be stayin’ for dinner again today?”

Adam peered out the screen door, his back to her. “What’s a-matter? Does Yonnie talk
too
much for ya?” He chuckled and reached for the thermos before heading outside.

Relieved, Grace watched him go.

When Lettie passed the white house with the dark green shutters, she hurried the horse to a town trot. It wasn’t until she’d made the turn past the dreaded corner that she began to feel calmer again. But the strain she’d experienced was far less than the turmoil inside her. Truth was, she carried around the burden of not only guilt but of self-centeredness, just as Minnie had so sympathetically pointed out. What if Lettie’s first daughter
was
content with her adoptive family?

Do I want to upset her security for my own happiness? Or for
Samuel’s?

The idea her child might not have been adopted into an Amish home upset her as she rode back to Susan’s. The springtime breeze blew right into the front of the carriage, against her bare feet.

Thinking of chillier weather, she recalled a dreary and cold November Sisters Day a few years ago. She and her friend Sally Smucker had each taken their mothers to bake dozens of loaves of bread and pies at the bishop’s wife’s house. It was the start of wedding season, and the day was so cold Lettie had placed several hot bricks on the floor of Judah’s carriage before piling heavy woolen lap robes on top of them.
“Enough to weigh us
down to nothing,”
Mamm had said with a hearty laugh.

But the thing that stuck out in Lettie’s memory was all the chatter among the women about an Amish couple waiting to adopt an infant. Her ears were antennas, and Mamm had glanced her way several times, till Lettie refused to look back. Oh, but the sting of loss had flown right back into her tender heart.

She refocused her attention on the road leading to Susan Kempf. By the time she arrived and unhitched Molly, then led her back to the barn, Susan was standing on the back stoop, waving.

Lettie looked at the sun’s position, wishing she could simply snap her fingers and renew the past. If only wishful thinking could undo her failings.
My unwise choices . . . my sin.

Hurrying across the yard, she could not forget Minnie’s disquieting remarks.
When I understand why Mamm did what she
did,
Lettie thought,
then I’ll forgive her.

She brushed away the morning’s visit while Susan carried the food to the table. Making her way to the sink, Lettie reached for the bar of homemade soap, wishing with all of her heart she could not only immerse her hands but bathe her soul, as well.

chapter
fifteen

G
race stuck her pointer finger beneath her Kapp to scratch her head. She momentarily turned her back to Mandy to watch Yonnie return to the barn with Adam and Joe after dinner. He’d had a toothpick in his mouth when he’d caught her eye and smiled broadly before leaving through the kitchen door with her brothers. Now he fiddled with it as he walked, talking especially to Adam. Together, they heaved open the barn door and disappeared inside, Joe following behind.

Mandy interrupted her thoughts. “Do you want to wash or dry?”

“I’ll dry.” Quickly Grace went to gather up all the dirty utensils left scattered around the table. Despite what he’d said, it was hard to understand why Yonnie was hanging around all day. Was Dat paying him to help, or was he volunteering?

Just then Mamma’s place at the table caught her eye, the seat Grace had so timidly claimed. She’d wondered while serving and eating her dinner of fried salmon patties, mashed potatoes, and coconut squash what Yonnie thought of it. Had he even recognized what she’d done? As unconventional as his family was, perhaps he didn’t realize there was a seating arrangement at their table.

And why should I care what he thinks?

“You comin’ to my room again tonight to pray for Mamma?” asked Mandy as she dipped two plates in the hot rinse water.

“Sure.”

Mandy was silent for a moment as she went on washing one plate after another. Then she said more quietly, “Do you think prayer changes the Lord’s mind ’bout things?”

Grace straightened a bit. “I only know what the Scripture says: We’re called to pray for God’s will to be done on earth as it is in heaven. You remember the Lord’s Prayer?”

“But isn’t God’s will goin’ to be done no matter what?”

Grace pondered that. “I ’spect if we knew such hard answers, we might consider ourselves equal with our heavenly Father. And you know what happened to one so-and-so who got all puffed up with pride like that.”

“Jah, pride goeth before a fall.”

Grace gathered up a handful of clean utensils and laid them out to air-dry on the table as Mandy hummed a church hymn behind her, seemingly content with her sister’s answer.

Glancing out the window now, Grace saw a young woman and a middle-aged man walking along the road toward the Spanglers’. She moved closer to the window and realized it was Heather Nelson walking with an Englischer about Dat’s age. “Wait just a minute, Mandy.” Grace tossed the tea towel on the table and ran out the door.

It was a warm, bright day, the kind she liked to go wading in Mill Creek, across the road. But now she stood barefoot in the driveway, waving. “Heather . . . is that you?” she called, hoping it was indeed her new friend. The slender girl tugged gently at the man’s wrist, and they began to walk up the driveway toward Grace.

Despite her initial exuberance, Grace felt suddenly shy in the presence of this clean-shaven man in dark blue jeans and a pale blue shirt, sleeves rolled up. Up close, he looked older than Dat—early to mid-fifties, she guessed—with hair and eyes nearly the same color as Heather’s. He radiated poise and well-being.

“Grace, I’d like you to meet my father, Roan Nelson.”

Grace returned his cordial smile as he reached to shake her hand. “Hullo, I’m Grace Byler. I can certainly see you’re father and daughter, you look so much alike.”

Heather grinned at her father.

“Very nice to meet you, Grace,” Mr. Nelson said. “Heather’s been telling me about meeting you at the local natural food store.”

“Oh . . . jah. I enjoyed our chat very much.”

“Grace ‘lives neighbors’ to the Riehls’, as Becky likes to say,” Heather replied, the highlights in her light brown hair shining gold in the sunlight.

“I see,” Mr. Nelson said, eyes twinkling.

“I ran out hopin’ to catch you . . . so we can plan our visit to Sally Smucker.”

Heather pushed her thick hair behind one ear. “Great. I was hoping.”

“Does the day after tomorrow suit ya?”

“Okay with you, Dad?” Heather asked. “Do you have anything planned for Sunday?”

“Don’t worry about me, kiddo. I can manage alone for a few hours,” Mr. Nelson said, offering a smile to Grace. “You girls go and have your fun.”

“Sounds good,” Heather said. “How about that morning?” Then, quickly, she frowned and shook her head. “Wait. I wasn’t thinking—don’t you attend church on Sundays, Grace?”

“Ev’ry other Lord’s Day we go to Preaching service—same as the Riehls.”

“Are you members of the same group?” Mr. Nelson asked.

“Jah, my parents joined this church years ago—long before I was born.”

“Then your preacher must be Josiah Smucker?” Heather asked.

“That’s right . . . Sally’s husband.”

Excitedly, Heather told her father, “Your building contractor is Grace’s minister.” Then to Grace she said just as animatedly, “Josiah’s building my father’s new house, up the road.”

Simultaneously they turned to look toward the north as Heather pointed in the direction of the newly purchased land. “We’ll soon be neighbors,” Mr. Nelson said. “Well, at least
I
will be.” He reached an arm around his daughter’s shoulders.

“Then let me be the first to say it: Willkumm to the neighborhood.” Grace almost said “our neighborhood,” but it was one thing for a modern family like the Spanglers to have lived amongst them for many years.
But for Englischers to move in from
out of state?

“I’ll come over after dinner Sunday, then, if that’s all right,” Grace said.

“Dinner? Let’s see—at noon, right?”

Grace nodded. “Some folk call suppertime dinner and dinnertime lunch.” She laughed, feeling much more relaxed with the two of them than at first. “Mandy and I’ll put on a light spread for my father and brothers. Mandy’s my sister—maybe you’d like to meet her sometime.”

“Terrific.”

“Oh, and I’d like to show you my herb garden, too. Herbs are pretty easy to grow, and so many have healing properties.”

Heather glanced in the direction of the backyard. “I’d love a tour of your garden.”

“Maybe next week?”

Heather looked tentative, glancing quickly at her father. “Uh, since I might be unavailable the week after that . . . maybe that’s a good idea.”

“
Gut,
then.”

“Actually, Monday’s fine. And I’ll see you Sunday after dinner at the Riehls’, too,” Heather added. “Well, we’d better finish up our walk. Nice seeing you, Grace.” Heather and her dad headed back toward the road.

Grace recalled Becky’s assessment of her acquaintance with Heather.
She doesn’t seem distant at all—quite the contrary.
Grace fleetingly wished she could fall into step with the Nelsons and continue the pleasant conversation. But Mandy was expecting help with the dishes. “Enjoy your walk,” she called after them.

Heather and her father turned and waved again.

When Grace was back in the house, she told Mandy her plans. “I’m goin’ to spend some time with the Riehls’ long-term boarder Sunday afternoon.” She waited for Mandy’s reply, but oddly enough her sister was quiet. Grace continued, “What do ya think Dat would say ’bout us showing someone fancy the herb garden?”

Mandy shrugged. “Ask him.”

“What’s a-matter, sister?”

“Honestly, Grace—lately you’ve been runnin’ off and leaving all the redding up to me.”

Grace sighed. “It’s becoming a chore to keep everyone happy round here.”

Mandy scrunched up her nose. “
Sei net so rilpsich—
Don’t be so rude!”

“Sorry, Mandy,” Grace said softly. “Maybe an afternoon apart will do us both
gut
.”

Once the dishes were dried and put away and the floor swept, Grace rushed out to the barn to check on Willow. She glanced at her herb garden on the way and decided the plot could use a close weeding before Heather came by on Monday.

Then, going to the part of the barn that served as the horse stable, she slipped in the back entrance to avoid running into Yonnie. Crouching low, she stroked Willow’s neck, talking softly to her. “How’re you doin’?” Grace ran her hand down the mare’s leg, just as she’d seen her father and Yonnie do. She gave her a sugar cube and caressed her long, beautiful nose, hoping for the best. “Don’t give up, ol’ girl,” she said before she left to return to the house, heading for Mammi Adah’s sewing room.

Picking up the two pieces of the pattern, Grace sat down at the old trundle sewing machine. First she sewed the dress seams, pulling the straight pins out at well-spaced intervals and pressing them between her lips.

At last she had the long seams sewn and next, the waistband. When that was done, she glanced at the day clock on the east wall, deciding she would not have time to finish the handwork before she needed to begin the evening meal. But she felt pleased with all she had accomplished, as well as a bit surprised Mammi Adah hadn’t poked her head in to see how she was coming along.

Monday afternoon she hoped to make time for Mammi’s fitting so that she could mark the hems for the sleeves and the dress itself.
Once all the washing is done and hung out to dry.
Grace rose and moved to the window, taking in the lovely day, and raised the window to let in the fresh air. Her eyes caught sight of a piece of paper taped to the wall; numerous names of birds and descriptions of their songs were written in pencil.

Mammi Adah had placed the list there when she and Dawdi had first moved to Beechdale Road—a list similar to Mamma’s downstairs. A veritable register of pure joy for the birdwatchers in the family.

Grace hung up Mammi Adah’s dress and placed the hanger carefully on the wooden peg across the room. The seams could be pressed flat with her gas-fired iron before Monday’s fitting.

Thinking again of her family’s love of birds, she hurried down to check on the mourning dove feeding trays Dat had set up for Mamma. She’d have to see about their other bird feeders, as well. It had been nearly a week since she’d done so, and she blamed her negligence on being scatterbrained of late.
So much
to do with Mamma gone.
It was a good thing she no longer had a serious beau to busy her up. Preacher Josiah had emphasized in a recent sermon that it was better for courting-age girls not to be so concerned with marriage as a goal, but rather to think on having life hereafter . . . getting into the kingdom of God.

Grace saw the wisdom in this caution. Nearly all of her girl cousins were overly enthusiastic about getting married and starting their families. Mandy, too, seemed preoccupied with courting. It was hardly surprising when they were trained from early on to become wives and mothers. There was little else for an Amishwoman to do, since education past eighth grade was forbidden and any sort of skilled job was taboo. Even so, Grace was unexpectedly glad to be free of any hope of marriage.

As she filled the trays with seed, she wondered when Dat might be assigned to have Preaching service here again at the house. Secretly, she hoped it wouldn’t be for quite a while yet, since Mamma’s absence was so painful. Not only for her and the family, but for all the womenfolk. Her mother had done something most wives and mothers amongst the People would never consider. True, most folk—like Marian Riehl and Mamma’s many sisters—had been quite considerate, choosing not to bring up what they already knew.
And what they surely dread, all of
them.
Yet deep down, the silence troubled Grace.
It’s almost as
if they’re acting like nothing’s wrong,
she thought sadly.