by Becki Willis
“Lillian. The last pages of the journal were missing. Torn out. Do you know what happened to them?”
When she still did not answer, Taryn stood, her fists clenched at her sides. Her voice was urgent. “Lillian. Do you know where those last pages are?”
The movement was slight, but Taryn detected a nod. Lillian reached for the glasses, steeled herself to face her niece, and slowly turned around. Her feet were heavy as she brought the lemonade to the table. Her heart was heavier.
“Have you read the journals, Lillian?” Taryn asked, her tone softer now as she sank back into the kitchen chair.
Her aunt nodded in acknowledgment.
“You took them, didn’t you?” Taryn guessed. “You tore the pages out, so that no one else would see them.”
Again, she nodded. Her words were barely audible. “No one could ever know.”
Taryn placed her hand over her aunt’s, drawing her eyes to hers. Violet to violet, even behind the lenses. “Where are they, Lillian? Do you still have them?”
“Yes.” It was a whisper.
“May I read them?”
She saw the panic in her aunt’s eyes, the way they rounded in horror and fear.
“It’s okay, Lillian,” Taryn said softly. “You don’t have to hide the truth from me. I know about your mother.” Seeing the pain and worry there in the lines of her aunt’s plain face, Taryn squeezed her hand and continued, “I can’t imagine the pain of losing a child. I know your mother was clinically depressed. She certainly wasn’t the first person to turn to unprescribed drugs for help, and she’ll hardly be the last. I know your father was only trying to help her.”
Lillian gasped with surprise. “How—How did you know?”
Taryn envied the innocence and naivety of these sweet Amish people. “Oh, dear Lillian, the signs were all there. The mood swings, the nerves, the sores on her face. Wandering out in the middle of the night, no doubt thinking she could fly. She was addicted to cocaine. And the Toad gave it to her.”
The faintest hint of a smile feathered along Lillian’s mouth. “I had forgotten that name. My sister had a vivid imagination, and a sharp tongue, at times.”
“Reading her journals, I feel as if I know her. Oh, how I wish I had!” Tears sprang to Taryn’s eyes, burning in their intensity.
Lillian sniffed away her own tears, but when she spoke, her voice steeled against emotion. “You were wrong. The Toad did not give the drug to my mother.” Her voice hardened. “My father did that.”
Taryn wasn’t certain she wanted to defend the man. She still had mixed opinions about her grandfather, but her mother had obviously loved him, even when she disagreed with him. While the jury was still out on whether he deserved such a gesture, Taryn nonetheless spoke on his behalf, “He thought he was helping.”
“At first. But over time…” Her voice trailed off, fading into a sad silence. She sniffed again, speaking with difficulty. “I know the Bible preaches forgiveness. Gott does not like us to hold a grudge, or to feel bitter toward one another. This hardness I feel in my heart is a sin. But because of my father, I lost both my sister, and my mother.”
Taryn came here searching for family, for roots, and so far, she had found an aunt and cousins, but no mother. It was too late to have a relationship with Rebecca. Could she bear it if her grandparents were gone, as well?
“Is—Is your mother still living, Lillian?”
The older woman played with her untouched lemonade, studying the condensation that formed on the sides. She rubbed a thumb through the moisture, her answer slow in coming. “Yes, and no. Her body lingers, but her mind… Her mind has been gone for too long. Burned away with the drugs, the doctors say. Shuttered away from the rest of the world. She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t respond to our touch, or to the sound of our voices. She merely exists.”
“At home?”
“At a facility in Ephrata.”
“I’m so sorry, Lillian. That must be so difficult for you. For your entire family.”
“I tell myself she is at peace now, no longer mourning the child she lost. The children she lost.” Her sad eyes met Taryn’s. “Shortly after your mother disappeared, she took an overdose. She’s not been the same since.”
“What about your father? Is he still—?”
Lillian shook her head. “Complications from an accident, a year after Rebecca left.”
“Such heartache,” Taryn murmured.
Her tone was resigned. “We all have our burdens to bear.”
Taryn reached for the hand idly playing with the glass. “I know this is difficult for you, but I need to see those torn-out pages. I have to know what happened next.”
The thought obviously still troubled her, but Taryn pressed on. “Please, Lillian. I have to know.”
Her aunt drew in a long, unsteady breath. Without another word, she pushed back from the table.
She was gone for a length of time, no doubt pulling the pages from their secret hiding spot. When she finally returned, she carried a small bundle of jagged-edged papers atop several tattered envelopes, bound together with a faded red ribbon.
“This was your mother’s favorite ribbon,” Lillian said as she handed the stack to her niece. Her hand trembled only slightly less than her voice. “I’ve kept it all these years, but I’d like for you to have it now.”
“You really don’t have to, you know,” Taryn protested softly.
“I have my memories of her. You deserve this, at least.”
Taryn hugged the ribbon-bound papers to her, the tears already gathering. A few slipped over her lashes and made a slow trek down her cheek. “You have no idea what this means to me. Thank you, Aunt Lillian. I can call you aunt, can’t I?”
Lillian’s smile was indulgent. “Nothing would please me more, niece of mine.”
Chapter 20
From the Journal of Rebecca King
Mamm is not getting better. She begs for more medicine. I have rubbed her knee in peppermint oil and made a poultice of vinegar, comfrey leaves, and egg whites, just as I learned from her. I bring her warm milk, sweetened with honey and a sprinkle of nutmeg, just the way she likes it. Nothing helps.
Today, she knocked the cup from my hand and begged me for her ‘special powders,’ the ones I saw Father give her after her fall. I want to help her, I want to take her pain away and ease the torture I see there in her eyes. But I don’t know how much of the powder to give her, and there is so little left. Perhaps we should save it for when the pain is worse.
I pray we won’t need it.
The toad came again today. He brought a small package with him. I suppose it is another gift for my mother. I should appreciate his thoughtfulness, but I do not like the thought of another man giving presents to Mamm. Even if Daedd knows about it, it seems wrong.
When I went in to say good night to Mamm and bring her evening milk, I saw it. I am certain it is the package from the toad, but Mamm is calling it her special powder, and she wants me to give her some with her milk. I didn’t know what to do, so I pretended to hear Daedd calling, and I quickly left the room.
These days, I often remind myself:
God doesn’t give us what we can’t handle. God helps us handle what we are given.
Ahndray and the toad had a terrible row this morning, and Ahndray says he must leave. I’m not sure I understand. He works for my father, but the toad seems to have some strange control over him. It has something to do with his own father, but the details are not clear.
He has finally asked me to marry him. How can love be so wonderful, and so terrible, all at once? I love Ahndray and want to be his wife, but I can’t leave Mamm, not until she’s better. Even Daedd’s shoulders, once so strong and wide, have begun to shrink inward. He walks with a hunch, and he is not yet fifty. His eyes, once so much like mine, are a stormy purple now, and filled with shadows. I feel that my family needs me, even though my heart longs to be with Ahndray.
He promises he will wait for me. He has found a job
in the Village of Intercourse and will save up the money for us to be wed, as soon as I feel I can leave.
I reminded him of this truth, but he says we must be practical:
A man is rich according to what he is, not what he has.
It has been a harsh winter, and I am so ready for spring. Without Ahndray here to brighten my days, I find other ways to keep busy. Lillian and Rose are such a blessing, taking over most of the household chores for Mamm, who shows no improvement. My brothers tease me, because I have chosen to start spring cleaning early, and I have started in the barn. I remind them, cleanliness is next to Godliness.
I found the oddest thing in the barn today. A handful of syringes, tucked into a satchel and stuffed behind a board, practically buried beneath the haystack. Why would someone store medicine in such an odd place? And what sort of medicine is it? I suppose it is for the animals. I shall ask Father tomorrow. He has gone to the horse auction today, with some of our cull mares. I know it is a sin to be prideful, but even our culls far outshine the best of the horses at die Vendyu.
I am so confused. And if I am truthful, I am afraid.
I asked Daedd today about the medicine. I had the syringes in my hand, showing him what I spoke of, when the toad arrived. He took one look at me and flew into a rage. Daedd told me to go, but I only pretended to leave. I tiptoed back in to hear what they were shouting about.
The toad said he had warned my father about me being underfoot all the time. He said if Daedd didn’t take care of it, he would, and the result would not be pretty. He said he had handled his son, and it was time for Daedd to handle his daughter. What that meant, I do not know.
The toad stood right in my father’s face and yelled at him, shaking his finger in anger. I know it is not our way to fight, or to indulge in confrontation, but it took great faith, and true inner strength, for my father not to respond in kind.
Just before the toad left, he said something very strange. I couldn’t hear everything he said. Matilda chose that moment to moo out a greeting, hoping I brought a bucket of grain. I heard something about my mother, and I knew the words upset my father. And then he said something about my carriage incident. He said it would be a shame if I were seriously injured the next time, or worse.
It was the way he said that last part. ‘Or worse.’ I don’t know why, but I think the toad just threatened my life.
I’m crying so hard I can’t see the lines to write upon. I suppose it does not matter that my words are crooked and sprawled across the page. This may be my last entry for a while.
I must leave. It breaks my heart to go, at a time when Mamm still needs me and Daedd is looking so frail. But Daedd says this is the only way.
He won’t tell me the full story. I know there is more, but he says I only need to know that he did what he did (whatever it may be) to provide for his family. The doctor bills piled up for Little John, and he needed better care. He says he made a deal with the devil and now he has to pay for his sins. I think the devil is the toad. Father refuses to say. He says the less I know, the safer I will be. But he says he fears for me, and for my future. He hasn’t said it, not in so many words, but I read between the lines. He fears for my life.
He says a good daughter and a good Christian will do as she is told, without questioning her elders, or her Gott. I have tried to be both.
So now I will go, because my father says it must be so.
He tells me not to worry. He will take care of Mamm and our family and keep them safe. He says his greatest fear is that he cannot keep me safe, as well. He would rather send me away than see me harmed. I don’t understand, but I trust my father. I must honor his wish.
I’m not sure I can honor him on this: Father says I cannot trust Ahndray. He says I mustn’t go to him, that he will only lead me to danger. I must pray over this. It seems prayer is now all that I have.
Daedd has given me money, a long, sorrowful hug, and his most humble apology. He begged for my forgiveness, and I gave it. How can I not?
I told Lillian I am going into town to buy Constance’s wedding gift. Only Father and I know the truth. I will not be back for dinner, as I told her I would be. Not tonight, and perhaps not ever.
I don’t know if I will ever return here, to my home, and to my family. I love them all so dearly.
My heart is in pieces.
Upon completing the journal, Taryn’s heart was also in pieces. Shattered. Her emotions were fractured, so badly splintered she feared they might never come back together. There was a deep, aching void in her soul, and she wasn’t sure it could ever be filled.
She couldn’t face Lillian right now. She was too raw.
She couldn’t stay cooped up in the room. It was too confining.
She couldn’t drive. The tears made it too dangerous.
She set out walking.
She wandered down the lane, no destination in mind. Her feet turned left. Before she knew how it happened, she stood at the edge of the horse pasture.
Had her mother stood in this very spot? Gazed upon this very field? Were the horses grazing in the patch descendants from the same stock her mother had nurtured and cared for? Were they from the same stock her grandfather had doped?
Taryn had no doubt that was what happened. This went far deeper than young lovers running away to be together, only to be separated by immigration rules. This hinted at crime and corruption.
The Toad had loaned her grandfather money to care for his dying son, and then bribed him into doping his stock. Blackmailed him, no doubt, after getting his wife hooked on drugs. Then the Toad threatened his daughter’s life when she stumbled upon the truth. Grandfather King—she didn’t even know his given name, Taryn realized—did the only thing he knew to do to keep his daughter safe. He sent her away.
Had the sacrifice been worth it? There were so many unanswered questions. Taryn knew that despite her father’s wishes, Rebecca found her way to Ahndray and married him. According to Lillian, he was deported before Taryn was even born, leaving Rebecca alone. Had she somehow managed to get to France and be with her true love again?
Taryn’s splintered emotions were at war, teetering between hope and despair.
Was it possible? Could her mother still be alive?
Or had it all been in vain? Had the Toad somehow gotten to her?
It was almost incomprehensible, but deep inside, Taryn knew it was possible. Rebecca may have been murdered.
Close to hyperventilating, Taryn pulled her phone from her pocket. Her hands were unsteady as she pounded out a text to Bryce.
Have you located my father? Do you know where he is?
She preferred to go with the better theory first, before moving on to the darker—albeit more probable—scenario.
He responded as she was halfway up the lane.
Just landed. Caught an earlier flight.
Now was not the time to back off.
I really need to talk to you. I know you’re tired, but can we meet tonight?
After a significant pause—she imagined him deboarding the plane and entering the concourse, unable to check his phone—he replied.
Seven. My office.
Chapter 21
Taryn had much too long to wait. She managed to work herself into a frenzy during that time, her mind running amok with possibilities.
She hadn’t read the letters yet, but Lillian said they revealed few clues. Taryn wasn’t sure her emotions could handle anything more in one day, so she chose to save those for tomorrow.
She dressed in her new gray slacks and a vibrant blue blouse that made her eyes pop. By the time she had paced the floor, impatiently thrown herself onto the couch at least five times, squirmed in the chair, and finally crawled into the car, only to sit outside his office until the clock showed straight-up seven, her blouse was unmercifully wrinkled. Her hair hadn’t fared much better, tortured by her restless hands.
He opened the door just as she knocked. He had probably seen her sitting there on the curb.
>
“I’m sorry to barge in like this, dragging you out to your office the minute you get in, but I have to talk to you!” she said without preamble. She squeezed in under his arm, which still held the door.
Bryce looked as if he were caught in an unexpected tornado.
“I thought you were pizza,” he admitted. He stuck his head out the door, his gaze sweeping the street before he followed the whirlwind into his office.
“I didn’t even give you time to eat, did I?” Taryn fretted. “I know you must be exhausted.”
Had she not been so focused on her mission, she might have noticed the similarities between herself and Susannah. She apologized again for intruding, even as she helped herself to one of the leather wingback chairs.
“So what couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” he asked, taking his own seat behind the desk. Without the anonymity of the phone screen, he was back to that cool, aloof professionalism.
“I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted. “So you start. What did you find out about my father?”
He sighed and clicked a button on his desktop. Reading from the screen, he informed her of his progress. “I’ve found six men by the name of Ahndray Lamont that seem to fall within the presumed age range of 55-65. Does that sound about the right age to you?”
Taryn scrunched her face in thought. She assumed he was a few years older than her mother, since she compared the magnificent man to the boys she was accustomed to. If still alive, her mother would be in her mid-to-late fifties. “I suppose,” she agreed.
Bryce turned back to the screen. “One is a surgeon in Brazil. One is a prison inmate in Georgia. Another is an artist in Paris. This one is a horse trainer just outside Bordeaux, France. Another is—”
“That one!” Taryn interrupted, scooting to the edge of her seat. “The horse trainer. That’s him!”