The Postcard (33 page)

“Benjamin Zook? You don’t mean the husband of Susanna Zook?”

“Yes . . . yes, I believe that
was
her name. Do you happen to know them?”

“They are the owners of the Amish guesthouse where I discovered the postcard, and the parents of the young woman of whom I spoke—one of the reasons I made this tape recording. Susanna Zook was related to Gabe Esh.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I’d forgotten, but yes, I believe she was Gabe’s niece.”

Philip was struck by the connection. “What happened at the Zooks’ farm when Gabe witnessed?”

“Well, Benjamin was so put out with Gabe’s condemnation of powwow doctoring that he went immediately to the bishop and complained. It was Ben Zook who began making the first loud noises toward getting Gabe excommunicated and shunned.”

“But if he hadn’t ever joined the Amish church, how could such a thing happen?”

She sighed deeply. “As far as Bishop Fisher was concerned, Ben Zook’s outrage was the ammunition he needed. One irate farmer and one spurned bishop made for the kindling that was to ignite a roaring fire, to burn Gabe out of the community.”

Lily’s room had grown dim with the setting of the sun, and Philip was surprised that her tale had lasted well over an hour.

“Do you mind if we stop for now?” Lily said, looking wan. “I’m quite weary.”

Philip turned off the tape recorder and thanked the lady for her time. “I hope you will rest now.” He stood to go.

She shook her head. “You come again tomorrow, Philip,” she said almost in a whisper. “I’ll finish the story then.”

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,” he confessed.

She extended her hand to him and squeezed it lightly.

“You’re a good man, Philip Bradley. Why don’t you bring along Gabe’s grandniece tomorrow. I’d like to meet her.”

He thought it interesting that Lily wanted to meet Rachel, though he had no idea how he might persuade the young woman to accompany him to the nursing home tomorrow. Would Susanna Zook even allow him to speak to her daughter again? That was
one
hurdle he wasn’t sure he was willing to attempt.

Twenty-Two

P
hilip stopped briefly at the Orchard Guest House on his way back to Stephen Flory’s home. Susanna answered the door, looking quite startled when she saw who was standing on her doorstep. “I’m full up, Mr. Bradley,” she said before he could even speak.

“I’m not here about a room. I’m here to see Rachel, if I may.”

Susanna stood her ground, not budging an inch. “I’m afraid Rachel’s not available at the moment.”

He toyed with handing over the tape to her, hoping it might find its way into Rachel’s hands, but he was no fool. “I’ll wait until she
is
available, if you don’t mind.”

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have guests to attend to.”

Just then Annie spotted him and came running toward the door. “Mr. Philip,” she greeted him with a grin. “You came back!”

“Well, yes, I did. But not to stay.”

“Do you wanna see where the wasp stinged me? Do ya?”

He leaned over to inspect the tiny mark on her cheek. “All better, looks like to me.”

She was grinning, looking up at him with adoring eyes. “Mamma says you saved my life, didja know that?”

He couldn’t help smiling now, even at Susanna, who appeared to be guarding the doorway with her round personage. “I was very glad to help.”

“You did more than help me,” the child insisted.

Chuckling, he stood up only to come face-to-face with Annie’s mother. “Oh, hello, Rachel.”

“I heard Annie talking so loudly, I had to come and see for myself.”

“Mr. Philip’s here, Mamma!” Annie tugged at Rachel’s sleeve.

Rachel smiled; Susanna scowled.

“Hello again,” he said. “I stopped by briefly to loan you something from the woman I visited in Reading today—the one who knew Adele Herr.”

With that, Susanna turned on her heel, leaving Rachel, Annie, and Philip standing there together. “I think you will enjoy hearing the story of your mother’s uncle . . . and his beloved.” He gave the tape to her. “I also believe it will answer your questions, and then some.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m very gut at running a tape recorder—it’s one of the ways I communicate best.”

“Wonderful.” He paused, thinking how he should present Lily’s invitation. “Before I leave, there’s one other thing,” he said quickly, keeping an eye out for Susanna Zook, who was bound to return in a huff with Benjamin and order him off. “Lily would like to meet you. She’s invited you to come and hear the rest of the story . . . in person.”

“Lily?”

“Yes, Adele Herr’s close friend. The woman in the Reading nursing home.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. Would you like to ride along with me?”

“I . . . I don’t care much for cars,” she said, more cautious now.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m a very careful driver.”

She thought for a moment. “I might sit in the backseat, if that’s all right with you.”

“Not a problem.”

Rachel’s face broke into a spontaneous smile. “Then, jah, I’ll go there with you.”

Philip could think of nothing else during his restaurant stop for supper. Rachel Yoder had actually consented to accompany him to meet the dear friend of her great-uncle’s fiancée. Why should he be excited about something so perplexing?

That night, Rachel listened to Lily’s recorded story with rapt attention and interest. She was amazed at the parallels between herself and Gabe Esh—his childhood matching hers so completely, though
he
had become a straightforward and courageous teenager and young adult. What had caused him to change, she did not know, just as the People in his day didn’t seem to understand either.

She figured she couldn’t pick Dat’s brain about all that he had heard and seen during the early days of Gabe’s “preaching,” but she wished she were bold enough to do just that. So much more she wanted to know about the man who had obviously rocked this community forty years ago.

One thing was sure about her parents, though—she noticed they seemed more united recently—’least since Philip Bradley had come to stay at the B&B. Was it because of finding the postcard? She wondered about that till the tape began to make a bumping sound in the recorder, and she turned it off.

The sixty-minute tape seemed to last only a few minutes, and she could hardly wait to hear the rest of the woman’s story. To think that her own father had been partially responsible for Gabriel Esh’s outrageous shunning. Mighty shocking, it was.

She wondered, too, what Esther and Levi might say about all this if they knew. But she would wait to tell her cousin till after her visit with the Reading woman. Then tomorrow night she would make another taped letter for her Ohio cousin. Such interesting news she would have this time!

After supper, she thought only of the hapless lovers, Gabe and Adele, wondering what was to become of their short-lived relationship, though she knew it could never come to fulfillment due to Gabe’s untimely death.

Even though it would mean riding in a car yet another time and traveling with a near stranger, she could hardly wait to meet Adele’s friend face-to-face.

Susanna would have liked to have had a fit once that Mr. Bradley left. She had restrained herself because of Annie, however, and it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, what with her granddaughter carrying on so about the man who’d saved her life, for goodness’ sake!

“It’s downright saucy, him showin’ up on our front steps,” she ranted to Benjamin in the privacy of their own quarters.

“Why didn’tcha just shut the door on him?” Ben said, looking a bit peeved.

“I’m a kind woman, that’s why.”

“Then you best not be complainin’ to me.”

Susanna was put out with her husband. She reached for a bed pillow and pounded at it, pretending to fluff it but gut.

Things seemed to be unraveling around her, and she felt somewhat helpless about it all, beginning with the handsome and tall smooth-talkin’ reporter. Whatever was he thinking, coming back to their inn thataway? Brazen, he was, insisting on talking to Rachel, a widow still in mourning. Couldn’t he see how wounded the poor girl was? Couldn’t he see that she was suffering, missin’ her husband?

“It’s beyond me what the man wants with our Rachel,” she let slip, not even realizing that she suspected any romantic interest on the part of Mr. Bradley.

Ben shook his head and got out of his chair. “I’d say you’re borrowin’ trouble, Susie. Ain’t no way a good-lookin’ fella like that is interested in our daughter; Plain and blind she be.”

Susanna dismissed their conversation; she didn’t have time for such speculatin’. Other things were brewing in her mind just now.

Susanna waited till Benjamin was clearly asleep, then made her way downstairs to phone a Mennonite van driver a few miles up the road, asking him to come pick her up. It was still plenty early in the evening for what she had in mind. Early enough to pay a visit to a longtime friend. . . .

Rachel heard the gentle sound of a car’s engine idling in front of the B&B just as she was beginning to nod off. She gave it nary a thought, as quite often a traveler or two would arrive as late as nine-thirty of an evening, coming to book an available room. Usually, though, it was Mam who took care of things after the supper hour, because Dat wasn’t much gut to anyone after about eight-thirty or so.

Annie had decided to “be a big girl” tonight and, of her own accord, had gone to sleep in her little bed across the room. Yawning, Rachel lay down and stretched out a bit. She missed Jacob more than usual—having more space in bed upon first retiring and all—and reached for the extra bed pillow and drew it close, hugging it to herself.

A mixture of familiar smells—pungent, yet musty—met Rachel’s nostrils, urging her to consciousness, but she felt serene and too relaxed to rouse herself, assuming the pipe tobacco must surely be commingled with her dream.

It was the dreary murmurings, a man’s monotone, that startled her out of sleep. “Who’s there?” she whispered, fearful of waking Annie.

The chanting continued, and she recognized the voice of Blue Johnny.

“Was in der Welt—what in all the world?” Rachel gasped, pulling herself up to a sitting position in bed. She clutched her pillow, wondering how this could be. Blue Johnny, here, in her bedroom?

Then, slowly . . . miraculously, her eyes began to behold a hazy vision of a small girl, curled up on a bed against the wall. Long honey-colored braids fell loosely over the tiny shoulders and back.

What was happening? Was her sight returning?

“Annie?” she managed to say. Then she groped her way out of bed and was met by the blurred figure of a tall, bushy haired man and Mam, too, holding a large lantern, its golden light spilling over the room. “Why are
you
here?” she whispered.

His features were impossible to identify, yet a radiant glow had settled over him, from the lantern light, no doubt. His dark eyes were silent, hollow pools. “You know I have the power,” said Blue Johnny. “And
you
have it, too, Rachel Yoder. You can heal, just as I can.”

She felt helpless to oppose the echo of his words. They flowed like warm oil over her sensitive being, enveloping, entrapping her very thoughts. Yet something deep within fought to free her from his sway, and she forced her misty gaze away, searching the room for Annie.