by Becki Willis
“This is sounding all rather complicated, Tar. Are you sure you’re up to it? Do I need to come down for a couple of days?”
“Thanks, Molly. I really appreciate the offer. But this is something I need to do on my own. Well, with Bryce’s help, maybe.”
“Bryce? Wait, who is Bryce?”
“The private detective I contacted. In answer to your earlier question, he’s agreed to help me. And yes, I definitely need it. I’ve only just begun to scratch the surface.” Her eyes strayed to the second journal, still only partially read.
“You’ll call me if there’s anything I can do?”
“Of course.”
Her friend still sounded doubtful. “Well, if you’re sure…”
“I’m sure, Molly. But thanks, all the same.”
“Taryn? You know if this doesn’t work out with your new family, you still have ours. You’re always welcome here.”
Tears swam in her violet eyes. “Thanks, girlfriend. That means the world to me.”
When Bryce texted her an hour later, Taryn was in a mellow mood. He picked up on it immediately.
Something wrong?
Her answer was evasive.
A bit overwhelmed, I think. It’s starting to catch up with me.
Bryce:
Understandable. You’ve had a lot on your plate.
She waited a few minutes to write again.
I think I’ll go to bed now. Good night.
Bryce:
Good night, then.
Instead of going to bed, Taryn picked up the journal.
Chapter 17
From the Journal of Rebecca King
Something is not right, but I cannot put my finger on it. Some days, Mother is fine. Happy. Then she will go off into a rage. It ends with her taking to her bed. The house will go unkept, and I must do all the cooking and washing. I don’t mind, except that this is so unlike our Mamm. And then, just like that, she will be happy again. Almost giddy.
I still worry about Mamm. If I did not know better, I would think she indulged in spirits. There are times when she gets downright silly, like a giddy child. Much like Robert Beiler and Peter Sams, when they go in Robert’s car to one of their parties. They come back smelling of alcohol and acting as foolish as children.
They took me once, to one of the parties, but I did not like it. I did not like the taste of beer. The music was too loud and the dancing too frenzied. I much prefer to stay and work with the horses.
He came again. This time, it was early in the morning. Father was not happy to see him. I heard them arguing, so I followed them into the barn. The man gave Father two small packages. He said one was for my mother, and one for the horses. Why ever would this man bring a gift to my mother? I do not trust him. And why does he bring sugar for the horses? We have cubes of our own.
He used the word ‘partners,’ and I thought my father might strike him. I have never seen my father so angry. He said they would never be partners and demanded that the man leave. The man laughed, but he finally left.
Father went into the house, and soon, I heard my mother laughing. I suppose she liked her gift, whatever it may have been.
Today, the man brought someone with him. The second man took my breath away. He was the most beautiful specimen of mankind I have ever seen! A stallion amongst stallions. A racehorse amongst plow mules. He was tall and dark and speaks with the most amazing accent. His eyes flash like black gems, his hair is as black as a raven’s wing. Simply put, the man is beautiful.
This man, this dark and dashing stallion, runs circles around the silly boys who beg me to go riding. Although I wish the English man would never return, I pray that his companion does.
He did! He did return! He came alone this time, without the toad. His name is Ahndray Lamont, and he is from France, of all places. He has applied for work here, even though Father told him he is not looking for a hired hand. He is a true gentleman and speaks excellent English. He also speaks softly to the horses, which I adore.
I hope Father changes his mind and hires him.
They have returned together this time. Ahndray and the toad. The toad and my father had a long conversation, while I showed Ahndray the horses in the lower field. Father did not look happy, but there was no shouting this time.
The toad brought my mother another gift. Why does Father allow this? Is it because it seems to make my mother happy? I do not understand.
Father has spoken to the Bishop, and he has approved Ahndray’s hiring. I am delighted to have him here each day. He will live in the room behind the barn, which I have tidied up and made presentable. He has an automobile, a shiny red car that puts Robert’s car to shame, but he does not mind riding with me in the carriage or the two-wheel cart. He is so good with the horses and has already proved a great help to Father.
The toad returned today. He spoke for a while with Ahndray, his manner as cold and aloof with him as it is with my father. He thinks he is the boss of everyone. I heard him say he needs more horses. Faster horses, and that my father must provide them. He insists that they must be ready for racing in just a few short weeks. Ahndray will barely have time to break them in or get them into shape. I did not like the way the toad insisted it be done on time.
I’m not sure, but I think he made some sort of threat to my father. I am deeply troubled over this.
I am spending more and more time with Ahndray. He reads me poetry and brings me silly little presents, like a single flower or a delicately shaped leaf, or a pebble that is smooth and polished. He found one shaped like a heart, and as he pressed it into my hand, he pressed a kiss onto my lips.
I think I am in love.
Robert Beiler and Samuel Stoltzfus are foolish, silly boys. They are jealous over Ahndray and have spread tales about him. I don’t listen to their foolishness. I love Ahndray, and he loves me.
Even if my mother insists I attend Sunday singing with Samuel.
I shared with Ahndray this old wisdom:
A wise man lays a firm foundation with bricks that others throw at him.
Chapter 18
Taryn read late into the night.
The stories about her father fascinated her. Some of the entries went on for pages, describing each and every detail of a day spent in Ahndray’s company. Rebecca made even the most mundane activities sound romantic.
The other stories filled her with dread. She inexplicably knew she was on the verge of uncovering a deeper, darker secret than any of them had imagined.
Susannah noticed the difference in her demeanor. Taryn answered the questions she asked, but she had few of her own. The younger woman filled the mealtime with idle chatter, sharing a few stories about Church the day before. Some of them were amusing, even though Taryn knew none of the people involved.
“I’ll leave you be, then,” the girl offered, after collecting the dishes. Taryn had hardly touched her food. “You didn’t like the baked oatmeal?”
“No, it was delicious. Honestly, it was. I’m just not very hungry this morning.”
“You’re feeling fine?” Susannah asked in concern.
Not wanting to tell a lie, Taryn avoided a direct answer. “I have a lot on my mind right now. I’m afraid I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“The bed is lumpy?”
“The bed is fine. It’s just me. Honestly, Susannah, I’m good.” She hoped her half-hearted smile was convincing.
“Very well. We’re about to do laundry. Do you have anything you wish to wash?”
“I can do it. Would you like me to come down and help?”
Though not unkindly, Susannah laughed at the suggestion. “You have not seen der weschmachien! It is a wringer style, powered by gasoline, but we also have a spinner.”
“On second thought, I’ll use a laundromat,” Taryn murmured.
“Or give it to me to do. I don’t mind. In fact, I insist.”
It was easier to go along with the insistent young woman than to argue with her. Before she left, Susannah
stripped the bed and gathered dirty towels, carrying them along with Taryn’s personal laundry.
The delay left Taryn feeling antsy. She wanted to return to her reading.
She had barely started when her phone binged, and she saw Bryce’s name on the screen. So far, their texts were confined to evenings. She wondered if something was wrong, even as she opened the message.
Does your father spell his name Ahndray or Andrae?
She quickly replied, her pulse ticking up a notch.
Ahndray. Have you found him?
Bryce:
Maybe. Still looking.
Eager to share her concerns with someone, Taryn wrote back.
I may have found something, too. I have so much to tell you, and something I need to show you.
His reply was quick in coming.
Sounds a bit ominous.
Biting her lip, Taryn replied,
That’s what I’m afraid of.
When no other message came through, Taryn returned to her mother’s journal.
From the Journal of Rebecca King
I learned a new word today, and I do not like it. Doping.
Apparently, there are people who give drugs to their horses, to make them perform better. This is a vile practice, used only to bring riches and fame.
Many of our horses have had success at the races. Big races, not just those here in Lancaster County. Ahndray does an excellent job in training the animals, but now those silly boys have started rumors. Samuel and Robert, sometimes others, have accused my Ahndray of giving the horses something to make them run faster. Performance drugs, they called them. Doping.
I have begged my mother to see a doctor. Something is clearly wrong with her. Her hair has lost its shine. Some of the roots have lost their hold on her scalp. I saw her as she put on her prayer cap, and she is all but bald in one place! I told her I would take her to see Dr. Travis, but she refused. She said she was fine, but I see the way her hands tremble. Her movements are jerky and her skin, once so clear and soft, is now marked with sores.
Please, oh dear and gracious Gott, lay your loving hands on my mother and heal her, body and soul, so that she may become your faithful servant once again. Please save her, oh Lord.
Most nights, I have trouble sleeping. Between worries for my mother, and my father, and now Ahndray, my mind is troubled. It keeps me awake, spinning out of control.
The toad continues to come. I have asked my father why he must do business with this man, but he told me not to interfere. His words were harsh. My father seldom raises his voice, and never to me.
Today that changed.
There is a strain between my father and me. This troubles me greatly. I have always been close to him, but there is something between us now. I think of it as a wart, left by that toad.
My father saw Ahndray and me today, down by the lily pond. It was only a few kisses, but my father was clearly unhappy. He asked me to stop seeing Ahndray. I asked him to stop seeing the toad. He made no comment, just turned and walked away.
Mamm has been in bed all week. Perhaps I overstepped, but I went down to the telephone shed and called the doctor. I don’t understand why, but when he arrived, Daedd sent him away. He said Mamm was just tired.
But of what? Lillian and I do all the cooking. Rose and I do the laundry. Abigail tends the winter garden. Mamm stays in her bed.
Father asked me, once again, not to see Ahndray. He said it was time I thought about the future and committed myself to Gott and our faith. Ahndray, as he pointed out, is not Amish. Samuel, he pointed out, is.
I told him Samuel was a self-centered, ferhoodled boy. He is jealous of Ahndray. Why else would he start such cruel and vicious rumors about him? Somehow, Father had not heard. He was clearly upset when he heard the tales going round of doping. His face lost all color, before it turned a bright, angry red. He left before I could ask:
Was he angry at Samuel because he started the rumors? Or at Ahndray, because he believed them?
Samuel’s pettiness brings to mind another wisdom:
Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people.
Mamm took a fall last night. I have no idea what she was doing outside, and in the cold, but somehow, she came to be on the porch railing, and she fell. She cut her leg and has a banged-up knee, but she is blessed to have no serious injuries. Father gave her a special powder for the pain, and she seems to be resting peacefully.
Something is happening, and it makes me most anxious. The toad comes more often now, and I see him deep in conversation with Ahndray and my father. I have asked them both what they discuss, but they say it is business, and nothing to concern me. Sometimes I hear their voices rise in anger. The toad puffs out his chest and orders everyone around.
Yesterday, he saw me there in the barn, as I brushed down Midnight Royal. He told me to leave. Who is this bloated toad, to bark such orders to me? I left, but I did not go far. I heard him tell my father I shouldn’t be allowed in the barn. Something about jeopardizing the project.
Ahndray came looking for me, and his dark eyes were troubled. He hinted that he might have to go away for a while, but that he will return for me. He says they have much business to do, and it is for a better future.
He has not asked me yet, but if he proposes, I will accept.
Thought for the day:
Being happy doesn’t mean everything is perfect. It means you decide to see beyond the imperfections.
Mamm sent Lillian and me to town today. She says her knee is still weak and she cannot do the shopping. We stopped to visit Constance and hear plans for her wedding. I am so happy for her and Rueben. I wish I was planning my own wedding, but Ahndray still has not asked. He seems more troubled these days.
Something frightening happened today while we were leaving town. I saw the car coming from behind, but I thought it would slow down. I did everything I was taught to do. I yielded right of way, guiding the horse as far to the right as space would allow. I had on my flashers. Still, the car came up fast and close, clipping the hub of our wheel as it passed. Old Bess bolted. If not for Lillian’s help, I would have lost control of the reins and we would have been dragged into oncoming traffic. Together, we managed to stop her and get her under control.
We lost a bag of groceries and a year’s worth of growth.
I do not wish to drive into town, anytime soon.
Our near accident upset Father more than it should have. Of a sudden, he has become overly protective of me, saying I should stay near the house. At first, I thought it was to keep me from Ahndray, and our evening walks to the lily pond, or our occasional trips into town. But the fear in Daedd’s eyes is real.
I suppose after losing Little John, he is trying to keep me safe, the only way he knows how.
Chapter 19
Taryn heard the whir of the washing machine’s motor, even before she turned the corner and saw it there on the back porch. The women gathered around it, engrossed in the labor-intensive task of doing laundry for a family of fourteen.
Caroline, who was married to Lillian’s oldest son, put garments into the spinner after pulling them from the washing cylinder. With most of the water now spun out, fourteen-year-old Melanie took the garments from the spinner and carried them to the clothesline, where she and Lillian hung them up to dry. Even little Emiline helped with the chore, sorting the laundry before it went into the water.
“Oh, hullo, there,” Lillian smiled, seeing Taryn approach. “Come to watch, ain’t so?”
She forced herself to laugh. “Only if you promise not to put me to work! You ladies seem to have this down to a science. No doubt, I would mess things up.”
“We have plenty of practice.”
Taryn watched for a moment, amazed at how efficiently the women worked. She couldn’t imagine doing laundry this way, not when there was a host of modern machines that made the task so much easier and faster.
After a moment, she made her way to the clothesline
. “I know you’re busy, but I was hoping to speak with you for a moment.”
Lillian glanced down at the basket, still half-filled with sheets that needed attention. “Help me hang these bed linens, and I can take a short break,” she decided.
Taryn gladly offered a hand. It struck her that she must make an amusing sight, working alongside these Amish women. Their dark, solid dresses and work aprons were at direct odds to her tailored slacks and patterned blouse. Their hair was twisted and pinned into buns beneath crisp work kerchiefs, while her honey-brown tresses scattered in the breeze. More than once, she had to push the stray strands from her eyes. Perhaps there was something to the bun, after all.
“There, now, that didn’t take long,” Lillian said in satisfaction. “Melanie, I think I’ll take a short break. I’ll bring us all a glass of iced lemonade when I return.”
She led Taryn through the back door, into the kitchen. She motioned for her guest to have a seat at the table while she prepared their drinks.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I felt it couldn’t wait,” Taryn apologized. “I’ve finished the journal.” She watched Lillian’s face, waiting for her reaction as she added quietly, “What was there, anyway.”
Lillian’s hand faltered, splashing a bit of lemonade onto the counter. Her movements were jerky as she reached for a dishcloth. She had spilled only a few drops; she mopped the counter long enough for a full gallon.