Plain Roots

by Becki Willis

“Leave those. The maid will get them in the morning.”

  “Another one of your job descriptions?” she guessed with a smile.

  “I have trouble getting her to cook, though,” he admitted. “Want to join me at Kaffi Korner for breakfast? Eight-ish? We could talk to Helen, try to jog her memory on a few more details.”

  “I get a breakfast basket delivered each morning, promptly at seven. Roughly three hours after the rooster wakes me up,” she exaggerated. “But I could always drink more coffee.”

  “Nine, then?”

  “Perfect.”

  She almost said, ‘it’s a date,’ but held her tongue. This wasn’t a date, by no stretch of the imagination.

  This was the beginning of what she feared would become a very dangerous investigation.

  Chapter 23

  Despite keeping late hours the night before, Taryn was up early. She had time to read the first of Rebecca’s letters before Susannah arrived with the basket.

  My dearest Lillian,

  Please, do not worry on my behalf. I can’t say where I am, but I’m safe. I’m sorry I had to leave. I’m most sorry that I could not say a proper goodbye, but it was too gawwerich. In time, I hope you will forgive me. Someday, you may even understand.

  I have no right, but I have a favor to ask. There are things in my last journals that are pivvish, and best forgotten. Silly ramblings of a lovesick girl, I think. Too ferhoodled to bother reading. Please destroy the journals. You know where I kept them.

  I do not have to ask that you look after Mamm un Daedd, for you are a good daughter. You are a good sister. I will keep you in my heart, and in my most humble prayers.

  Forever your loving and devoted sister, Rebecca

  Oh, one more thing. Please tell Daedd, and only Daedd, about this letter, and that I am safe.

  Taryn folded the letter and returned it to its envelope, postmarked from Peabody, Massachusetts. The date was March 15, ten days after Rebecca disappeared.

  Obviously, her mother had begun to worry about the journals she left behind, afraid they might put her family in danger. Just as obviously, Lillian hadn’t done as requested. She not only kept the journals, but she also read them.

  In her shoes, Taryn knew she would have done the same thing.

  When Susannah brought her breakfast, Taryn asked about some of words she did not understand.

  “What does gawwerich mean?” she asked her cousin.

  Susannah looked amused. “And where did you learn this word?”

  “I overhead it the other day,” Taryn said evasively, cutting into her warm waffle with whipped cream topping and slices of strawberry.

  “It is not something you would ever worry with,” the young woman assured her. “It means awkward. If, for instance, I sat at an angle on the hard bench seat and my apron was mussed, die Mamm would caution me that I was gawwerich.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Which she often does, by the way.”

  “And pivvish? What does that mean?”

  She thought for a moment, searching for the best way to describe it. “Just an exact way. Particular. When I learned to stitch my samplers, I did them in a very pivvish manner.”

  A thought occurred to her, and she clapped her hands together in excitement. “Yes! That is what we can discuss today! I shall teach you Amish words!”

  After her lesson, there was time for one more letter. Taryn pulled the second one from its envelope, which was marked April 12 from Tupelo, Mississippi. Rebecca had sent a single page written on pink stationary, telling her sister how happy she was. She had married the love of her life, Ahndray Lamont. This was not to be shared with anyone, especially their father. He would only worry. She could, however, tell him she was safe, and happy, and she had her very first job. She was working as a seamstress, although she was careful not to mention where. She closed with another plea for forgiveness, and a pledge of her eternal love.

  Bryce was waiting for her at the coffee shop when she arrived. If the half-eaten muffin was any indication, he had started without her.

  He stood when she arrived, a show of good manners instilled in him by his military background. That, incidentally, had begun when he was a toddler.

  “You said you would have already eaten,” he said in his own defense.

  “Yes. I’m stuffed. My aunt is an excellent cook.” She laid a hand to her stomach, afraid she might need larger clothes by the time she left.

  “Katie will take your coffee order,” he said. He looked around and caught the eye of the woman behind the counter, signaling they were ready.

  “Have you had a chance to do anything this morning?” she asked eagerly, as she scooted in to the table.

  “Nothing pertaining to this case.”

  Taryn had the grace to look apologetic. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not your only client. Please excuse my overzealous aafratze.”

  He cocked an eyebrow in amusement. “Learning Amish words, are we?”

  “Susannah decided it was time I had a lesson, especially when I asked her about some words I didn’t understand.” She crossed her arm on the table and made a rather breathless announcement. “I started on the letters.”

  “Really? Learn anything new?”

  His question took the wind out of her sails. Despite her grand proclamation, she really hadn’t discovered a thing of importance.

  Katie came to take her order, and to refill Bryce’s cup.

  “You, again.” She smiled, recognizing Taryn upon sight. Her eyes slid knowingly between the two of them. “You didn’t tell us you knew Bryce.”

  “We’ve just recently met,” Taryn assured her. For some reason, she felt her face heat.

  “Ahh-h.” With a bit of a smirk, Katie went to make her coffee.

  Ignoring the two-syllable ‘ahh-h’—which only depended her flush—Taryn said, “I’ve read two letters so far, but they weren’t helpful. Rebecca wouldn’t say where she was, only that she was safe, and she hoped that one day, Lillian could forgive her. She wanted her to tell their father she was safe, but she didn’t want him to know she had married my father. That was in the second letter.”

  “Postmarks?”

  “March 15 and April 12. From Massachusetts and Mississippi. You don’t suppose she was truly in those places, do you? The others were marked from all over the States.”

  “She probably had someone mail them for her. Truckers, most likely, from their next destination.”

  “That would make sense.”

  Her coffee was delivered, but by the hand of the owner.

  “Well, well,” Helen said, her smile a match to the one sprawled across Katie’s face as she watched from the register. “If it’s not the girl with the violet eyes. Terry, was it?”

  “Close. Taryn.”

  Helen nudged Bryce with her elbow, her manner teasing. “That big old house getting a bit lonesome for you, huh?”

  He looked nonplussed by her assumptions. “Something like that. How do you know Taryn? And please, join us.” He stood and pulled a chair from the next table, pushing it in for the older woman.

  “Oh, we met the other day,” Helen said evasively, her gaze wandering to Taryn’s. There was a question in her eyes, asking for her approval on how much to share.

  “It’s okay, Helen,” Taryn approved quietly. “Bryce knows all about my past.” She put the slightest of emphasis on the word ‘my.’ If Helen wanted to share her own past, that was her business, and none of Taryn’s.

  Judging by the twinkle in the older woman’s eye, it never occurred to her that theirs could be a business relationship. She obviously thought it was of a personal nature.

  Perhaps, Taryn thought, it was best to mislead her. If this proved as dangerous as she feared, the fewer people involved, the better.

  Seeing the opening he needed, Bryce took the lead. “Helen, Taryn tells me you were actually the one to deliver her. That’s quite a coincidence, you two meeting again after all these years.”

  “It is,” the old nurse a
greed. “Then again, I keep in touch with many of my babies. As you can imagine, quite a few live in the area.”

  “But the fact she was adopted and managed to find the place she was born, and the very nurse who delivered her… That’s really something,” he said, watching her closely as he took a long drag of coffee.

  “I agree. But we have Betty Lawrence to thank for that.” Helen was quick to give credit where credit was due. “She’s often heard me mention those violet eyes. They’ve haunted me through the years. The minute she saw Tara’s eyes, she knew we had to meet.”

  “Yes, those eyes are really something, aren’t they?”

  Bryce turned his gaze upon Taryn. She saw the mischief dancing in their dark depths, as he played out the charade for Helen’s sake. She was tempted to place a pointed toe in his shin, but Helen’s swollen and heavily veined legs were in the way.

  Perhaps because her first career had been babies, the older woman was a born matchmaker. She smiled in satisfaction at the look flowing between the couple at the table.

  “It wasn’t just the color that haunted me,” Helen continued. Her flirty voice turned serious. “It was the look in that poor girl’s eyes. She was terrified, and it wasn’t because she was afraid of the pain. She refused an epidural.”

  Taryn perked up. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “Said she wanted to be fully alert.” Helen’s tone dropped to conspiratorial. “I think she was afraid the wrong person would come in, and she wouldn’t know. I’m telling you, that girl was scared to death.”

  “Who was she afraid of?” Bryce asked. “What did she say?”

  “Like I told Tara here, I’m terrible with names. She kept calling for someone, wishing he were there. I’ve been trying to wrack my brain since our visit the other day, but I just can’t recall. Seems like maybe it had a funny pronunciation, but the girl had a bit of an accent. Deutsch, I think.”

  “Was the name Ahndray?” Taryn suggested.

  The nurse gave a helpless shake of her head. “No idea. I’m just no good with names, and it’s been so long. But I do recall now that she kept talking about frogs. Poor girl seemed to have a phobia about them.”

  “Frogs? Or did she use the term ‘toad’?” Taryn pressed.

  Helen shrugged. “Same difference, isn’t it? At any rate, we promised to keep them away. Kept reassuring her that no frogs were getting into our delivery room. That seemed to comfort her, until another pain hit, and she called for her man again. Wanted to know why he left her.” She clipped her tongue. “Can’t say I blame her. Such a shame, to be widowed at a time like that.”

  “Can you remember anything else about that day?” Bryce asked.

  “Oh, I remember plenty,” the old woman said, her words heavy with meaning. “I suppose Caryn told you the full story.”

  “Only as it pertained to her.”

  She turned to Taryn. “You can tell him, you know. I have no secrets.”

  Well, just the one. And it was best kept.

  “That’s really beside the point right now. But there’s one thing I still don’t understand, Helen,” Taryn said.

  “Just one?”

  She allowed a small smile. “You’re right. There are dozens of things I don’t understand about my birth, but maybe you can clear up this one. How did my parents—my adoptive parents, the Clarks—come by the receipt?”

  The older woman looked suddenly uncomfortable. She glanced at Bryce, whose eyes held an encouraging light. He inclined his head ever so slightly, urging her to simply say it, whatever it was.

  “I—I assume they paid for your delivery,” Helen answered haltingly.

  “And the note from my mother? How did they get that?”

  “Uh—”

  Bryce sensed the retired nurse knew more than she was saying. “Please, Helen, tell us what you know.”

  “Your mother left it,” she finally answered, her tone gentle. “Your birth mother, Jane Doe. Or Jane Hirsch, as she claimed. She left the note pinned to your blanket, when she snuck from the hospital.”

  At Taryn’s soft gasp, Bryce placed his hand over hers and gently squeezed.

  “You mean—” Taryn hesitated, finding the words difficult to say aloud. Even after all the heartache she had endured, this new revelation still cut deep. “You mean, she… abandoned me?”

  Hoping to soften the impact, Helen chose a different word. “She left you behind, yes. But I’m convinced she did it for your own good.”

  Bryce tightened his grip as Helen added, “I’m telling you, that girl was scared out of her wits, and it wasn’t just of frogs. She used a false name, a false address, and she left behind her precious baby girl. Mark my words, she was running from someone.”

  The unspoken question lay silently on the table between them.

  Had she succeeded in escaping?

  “I’m sorry, Taryn, but I need to get back to the office.”

  Bryce apologized after Helen left them, their coffee now cold. “I came in a day early, so I can wrap up my current case and concentrate on yours.”

  “I understand.”

  He could see how distracted she was. Helen’s announcement left her understandably upset.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I will be.” She offered a wan smile. “It shouldn’t be a surprise. Of course, she left me behind. How could she hide, with a newborn baby to care for? I would have slowed her down, made her more conspicuous.”

  “You can’t really believe that she left you to save herself, can you?”

  Taryn thought about it for a moment, but in the end, she shook her head. “No. After reading her journals, I feel like I know the kind of person Rebecca was. She would never have done something so selfish. If anything, she would have sacrificed herself, to keep her baby safe.”

  A terrible thought came to her. She sucked in her breath and clutched the fingers that still held hers. “Bryce? You don’t think that’s what happened, do you? You don’t think she would have drawn the Toad to her, just to take attention off me, do you?” Her voice rose in panic. “You don’t think she sacrificed herself for me, do you?” The thought was unbearable.

  “Shh. Don’t hyperventilate on me. Just calm down.” He used his calming voice, talking her down off the ledge of hysteria. “Take a deep breath and look at me.”

  She did so, if unsteadily.

  “It’s what mothers do, Taryn. They do whatever it takes, to keep their children safe.”

  Taryn gave a tiny hiccup of a nod. “Fathers, too,” she whispered. “I understand now. That’s why my grandfather sent her away in the first place. He chose to never see his daughter again, if it meant keeping her safe.”

  “I just wonder if it was in vain,” Bryce murmured aloud.

  “I need to read the rest of the letters.”

  “Let’s regroup this evening.” He stood and threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table, making sure Katie saw the gesture. As he ushered Taryn out the door, he asked, “Where was that restaurant you found? I have a busy afternoon, but maybe we can have dinner there tonight, and discuss whatever you find.”

  They made plans to meet at seven thirty.

  As Taryn drove back to the farm, she noticed a light-colored car behind her. She thought nothing of it, until it turned behind her. By the second turn, she became nervous.

  She knew she was being paranoid, but her nerves were naked and raw. Instead of turning on the farm road, she kept straight. She finally turned into a roadside stand selling fresh strawberries, but she stayed in her car.

  The other car sped up and away, leaving her there to tremble in peace.

  Chapter 24

  Taryn made certain the light-colored car was nowhere in sight before pulling out from the roadside stand. She regularly checked her rearview mirror, making certain no one followed her. The last thing she wanted to do was bring danger to the Zooks’ doorstep.

  And yet, where else would it go? Peter and Lillian lived next door to the King farm, the very place all o
f this had started, all those years ago. Lillian was already a part of this story. And she had read the journals, the same as Taryn.

  It occurred to Taryn that she should warn her aunt of danger. But what, exactly, would she say? That a car was behind her from town? That her over-active imagination conjured up all sorts of wild scenarios?

  If they did, indeed, investigate the past and find something viable, something concrete, she would tell her aunt then. But until then, she thought it was best to keep this venture to herself. She would discuss it at dinner tonight with Bryce.

  Taryn took the packet of letters out to the gazebo, where a nice breeze blew across the water. It cooled her heated skin and fevered senses, providing the balm she needed to continue reading.

  The third letter was almost lighthearted. If not for a few random phrases, it could have been a letter from any sister anywhere, written to a loved one at home. Rebecca described their small apartment and the lap quilt she made, using a pattern Lillian had favored as a child. She talked about the meals she prepared for her husband, and how cooking on an electric stove had scorched more than one second-hand skillet. She and Ahndray were not wealthy, but they were happy. She was quickly adapting to the English way of life and found the television to be most entertaining. She was careful not to ask direct questions, knowing the answers would never reach her. This letter bore a postmark from Huntsville, Texas, in June of 1980.

  The August letter, sent late in the month from California, carried on the same happy theme, with the exception of the closing lines.

  My dearest, dearest Lillian,

  I have not mentioned this until now, because I wanted to be certain. You, my dear sister, will soon be an aunt! Yes! It’s true. I will have a precious baby, somewhere around the first of the year.

  We are so happy. I wish with all my heart that you, and our sweet Mamm, could be with me when my time comes, but I am only being selfish. It is best this way.

  Already my dresses do not fit, and my belly grows round and firm. It is a happy time. I love my husband so, and this baby we have made.