Remy clicked to the next picture. “This was the write-up on the wall plaque beside the quilt,” he said.
I skimmed the text that thanked our family for the acquisition, though I was surprised to read that the museum’s curators had determined that each panel had been sewn by a different person. As the various fabrics traced back to a wide range of dates, they had concluded that the quilt was assembled over several generations.
Perhaps each time the oldest Jensen son took a bride, she was given the opportunity and the responsibility to add her favorite Bible story to the montage, the write-up said.
What it should have said was that each time the oldest Jensen son took a bride, she was given the news about the priceless set of rubies that were being passed down through the family, and it was her responsibility to identify the rubies’ hiding place by sewing it onto the quilt in the guise of a Bible story.
We all stared at that photo, trying to make sense of it. “Go back to the fireplace scene again,” I said.
Remy did as I asked, and again we stared at the image, trying to make sense of it. Even Grete finally joined us to take a peek.
“This is supposed to represent your grandparents’ old house? Because I do not know why there are five fireplaces in the picture when there were only four chimneys on the house.”
Stunned, Remy and I looked at each other and then at Grete.
“Are you sure?” Remy asked.
“Yah. I grew up in the bedroom at the top of the stairs here and looked out my window at the silhouette of that house every day of my life until they took it away.”
I stood and grabbed my coat, urging the others to do the same.
“Where are we going?” Haley asked.
“On a treasure hunt. Come on.”
Outside, the four of us stopped at the toolshed to gather a sledgehammer, a chisel, and a crowbar, and then I called out for Rebecca and Isaac to come with us. Our actions caught the attention of the press as well, and soon they were skirting around the edges of the property, trying to see where we were going in such a hurry. Nathaniel was working on his tractor out in the field, and when he saw us, he came along too.
We quickly marched as a group across the fields to the old homestead and down into the open-air basement. Just as in the picture, there were five fireplaces down there, remnants of the house’s old heating system. Only four of them were stained with soot.
Handing Remy the sledgehammer, I offered him the first whack. His gleeful blows didn’t do much to advance our cause, however, so eventually he handed the heavy tool over to Nathaniel, who attacked the chimney with gusto once Grete explained that an old family treasure might be hidden inside.
We all moved back and watched with rapt attention as the structure began to crumble brick by brick, each piece falling to the ground with a plink. Finally, when I was starting to give up hope, a different sound made a hollow thunk, and then suddenly a square wooden box dropped from inside the remaining structure. Hands shaking, I knelt down and grabbed the box, lifted it up, and dusted it off. Opening the lid revealed soft fabric inside. Carefully, I raised a corner of the fabric and gasped. Nestled among the folds was the most astonishing, sparkly, brilliant, glittery diamond-and-ruby necklace I had ever seen.
“There’s something else!” Remy whispered, pointing at a square of paper that poked up from the corner.
Breathlessly, and with as much care as possible, Remy rooted down through the box, proclaiming that under the jewels there looked to be some documents and letters. He slipped out the top one and gingerly unfolded it.
“It’s dated July 21, 1831, to ‘My Dearest Son’ and signed at the bottom, ‘Sincerely, Your mother, SdB’!” Remy looked at me, his eyes filled with the glow of our reward. The treasure hunter had persisted all the way to the prize.
“What does it say?” Haley asked.
“ ‘My Dearest Son, I have received your latest communication, and I find it as baffling as your previous missives. While I appreciate that you are a man of the land, a worker, and a husband, I also do not think you appreciate the extent to which I have sacrificed in order to keep you safe until this time. Worker or not, husband or not, whether you want to or not, it is time to assume the throne!’ ” Remy paused in his reading, swallowed hard, and kept going. “Next paragraph says, ‘I truly thought that once you read my journal entries from all those years ago, you would understand and accept your duty in this matter. Leopold now has plans to marry a princess of Badenese descent, which will be the final step in making him eligible for the crown. His coronation will likely begin soon after that, the event that Luise has plotted and schemed over for many years. All it will take to stop it, my son, is for the truth of your birthright to be revealed. I do not understand your refusal in this matter! You speak of being content with the life you lead now. Need I remind you that a royal’s first obligation is not to his own contentment but to the service of his people?’ ”
Again, Remy stopped reading, almost as if to let his brain catch up with the words that spelled out the exact theory he had held about the fate of Karl and Stephanie’s firstborn male son since the beginning.
“ ‘To make matters more complicated,’ ” Remy continued, “ ‘Kaspar Hauser continues to gain popularity each day, and all the world awaits for me to weigh in on this matter of whether or not he is my son. He is a sad creature and an oddity for sure, but he is not the man who needs to come home and take up his grandfather’s legacy. Make no mistake, Karl Stephan: You are. Please, do the honorable thing and come back to us now. Sincerely, Your mother, SdB.’ ”
When Remy set the letter down, his eyes were shining, and we were all speechless. In a way, I was more excited about the letters than I was about the jewels. Just looking at them there, sitting in their folded, beribboned pile inside the jewelry box, I felt a connection to the past, a link to Stephanie de Beauharnais, the woman who had been my six-greats grandmother. I wanted to read them all, and right away, but Remy begged me not to touch them, saying that they needed to be handled in the proper conditions or they could disintegrate in our hands.
Finally, with a deep sigh of satisfaction, he closed the lid.
“I do believe,” Remy said, “that not only do I now have what I need for the last chapter of Nowhere to Be Found: Lost Jewels and Antiquities, I also have the first chapter for my next book: Nowhere to Be Found: Missing Missives.”
Climbing up out of the basement, I was amazed to see a whole line of cars and people watching from the road. As much as I hated the press, when I spotted a dark green van driving slowly past, I couldn’t have loved them more. Cupping my hands around my mouth, I shouted out to the whole lot of them, asking who wanted an exclusive.
They all cheered and waved their arms, so I yelled again.
“I’ll give a full interview, with pictures, to whoever can stop that van and keep those people captive until the police get here. They’re criminals!”
En masse, the crowd moved in, so many bodies blocking the way that the driver of the van had no choice but to surrender. Considering how many reporters it took to subdue the people inside, I wasn’t sure how I would sort out my promised reward, but I was just relieved that for now we were safe.
With the “accosteswabbers’ ” plan for sweeping in and taking the jewels obviously foiled, for the first time in my life I could honestly say I absolutely loved the press.
FORTY-FIVE
At Remy’s suggestion, I borrowed Isaac’s bodyguard and drove into town to a bank, where I rented a safety deposit box for the jewels and the documents. Back at the house, Remy had thoroughly photographed and cataloged the entire set, but the letters remained in their bundle until such time as we could meet with an expert and have them safely duplicated so they could be read without damaging them. I had no idea how our family would be proceeding with the jewels, but that was a question better left for another day.
With all the fun of our discovery, it had been easy to forget that Bobby was still suffering great
ly at the hospital, Lydia was grappling with the hard truths about her child’s health and her husband’s deception, and Reed and the FBI were still working to extract the whole truth from Dr. Updyke.
When I returned from the bank, I was pleased to see that Haley was still there. She was reclining on the couch, simultaneously playing Mancala with Isaac and talking on her cell phone. I knew that Grete would be uncomfortable with having a phone in the house, so finally I gave a few hand signals to Haley and she sat up, suddenly realizing the rudeness of her ways.
“Oh, sorry, duh,” she said, holding one hand over the mouthpiece. “I’ll hang up now. It’s my mom. She wants to know if she can swing by later and drop off some of this leftover funeral food.”
“Funeral food?”
“Yeah, we had a catered lunch with Doug’s parents after the funeral this morning, but there’s a shrimp platter, two pies, and a cake that never even got opened, if you guys would like them.”
“That would be lovely,” Grete said, so Haley told her mother yes and then ended her call.
I wasn’t sure what to do with myself next. I wanted to get back to the hospital to see Bobby and maybe even relieve Lydia for a few hours, but I kept delaying in the hopes that Reed would stop by. Looking at my watch, I decided I would give it one more hour, and if he hadn’t appeared by then, I would head to the hospital and catch up with him later.
Grete and Rebecca chatted easily as they worked at the sewing machine by the window, and when I asked if there was anything I could do to help out around the house for an hour or so, Grete asked if I knew how to make egg noodles.
“I do,” said Haley. “Can I help?”
“You direct, I’ll help. I’ve never made noodles in my life.”
“Okay. Grete, do you mind if we make ourselves at home in your kitchen?”
“Please, feel free. Seeing the photos of that quilt has made me very much in the mood for sewing today, not cooking.”
Haley and I washed our hands at the sink, and then she began listing the ingredients and utensils that we needed as I retrieved them from the pantry and put them together in a collection on the counter. I didn’t understand my old friend at all. Just this morning, she had attended her husband’s funeral. Considering that, where was her good humor and energy coming from?
Fifteen minutes later, as we were up to our wrists in dough, I came out and asked her. Lowering her voice, Haley replied she wasn’t sure, but there was something so incredibly healing about being here in this house and being back together with her old best friend that she felt better today than she had in weeks.
“What about the life insurance mess your mom was telling me about?” I asked, also keeping my voice low. “Did the police drop that?”
“I’m not sure. I’m not worried about it.”
“You sound pretty cavalier for a woman with involuntary manslaughter on her record. Don’t you remember the horror of that whole time? The possibility of juvie or jail hanging on your shoulders like a million-pound weight?”
She shrugged.
“What difference does it make? I won’t live long enough to get to trial anyway.”
As I processed that thought, Haley assembled the pasta maker, though she seemed a bit perplexed that it had no wire or plug. When I reminded her that this was an Amish house and that most of their appliances used elbow grease, she studied the contraption for a minute, figured out which way to turn the handle and where to load the dough, and then got down to business. We were really getting the hang of it when there was a knock at the door and Melody stuck her head inside.
“Anybody home?”
Grete met her at the door and took from her two big pie boxes, and Rebecca went out and helped bring in the rest from the car.
As good as Haley was looking today, especially compared to yesterday at the wake, Melody was almost the opposite. At the wake, she had looked her usual stunning self; today, she was a mess, her hair askew, her outfit looking thrown together and rather wrinkled.
I asked her if she was doing okay, but she shook her head and said that it had been a difficult day, what with having to get through the funeral, host Doug’s obnoxious parents at lunch, and figure out how to unload all this food, all the while catching whispers of rumors about Dr. Updyke having been arrested by the FBI.
“And what about Bobby?” Melody asked. “Does he know who ran him off the road?”
I told her no and then caught her up on what we did know about what he had been through. Haley and I finished with the noodles, and as she cleaned up our mess, I made a pot of tea, hoping that would help Melody relax. Everyone seemed ready to take a break, so finally we all sat at the table and chatted as we sipped, talking about Bobby’s situation and Doug’s death. Grete made the very wise observation that healing usually began with forgiveness, even when you didn’t know whom you needed to forgive.
“I never got into the whole Amish forgiveness thing the way Anna and Reed did,” Haley said suddenly to Grete and Rebecca, surprising me with her frankness. “I had a hard time believing it was genuine. I guess it wasn’t until the school shooting that I really started to get it. You people don’t just put on an act or say the right things. You genuinely, truly forgive.”
Rebecca and Grete nodded as if they didn’t even quite understand there was another alternative.
“Have you worried that our family did not fully forgive you for the fire?” Grete asked as Melody stood and walked to the stove to pour herself one more cup of tea.
Haley shrugged.
“I suppose so. It’s hard to believe the people you wronged have forgiven you when you haven’t forgiven yourself.”
“We forgave you, Haley. As soon as it was done, it was given over to God. We forgave Anna too,” said Rebecca.
“And Bobby and Reed and Doug,” Grete said.
“And Melody,” Rebecca added.
“And Melody?” I chuckled. “What did you forgive her for?”
“For starting the fire at the Dawdy Haus,” Rebecca said.
I looked up to see Melody at the stove, her shoulders suddenly taut.
“What do you mean, Rebecca?” I asked, wondering if I had misunderstood what she said.
“Melody started the fire at the Dawdy Haus, the one that killed my parents.”
Now everyone except Melody was staring at Rebecca.
“What are you talking about?” Grete demanded of her sister.
“That night I knew Mamm was having the baby because I heard her tell Daed to boil some water and call the doctor. I stayed up, waiting for the news of a brother or sister. From my bedroom window, I got to see the whole big fireworks show way out back that you folks made. Then later Melody came tiptoeing around closer, just before the fire. But it was okay. We all forgave. It is the Amish way.”
Next to me, Haley began to tremble with emotion.
“The Amish way? To witness a crime and keep your mouth shut for eleven years?”
Rebecca was so startled by Haley’s questions, she couldn’t even reply.
Incredulous, Haley, Grete, and I all looked over at Melody, who was slowly pouring hot water into a cup. Suddenly, there was a commotion at the back door as Isaac came bounding in, followed by the bodyguard. Melody leapt toward the huge man, swinging the hot, heavy teapot around in a wide arc as she went, landing it against the side of the bodyguard’s head with a sickening thunk. We all screamed, but in the time it took for me to grab Isaac and whip him around behind me, the bodyguard was lying in an unconscious heap on the floor and Melody had managed to get the gun out of his ankle holster. Now, she had it trained on all of us.
“Mom, what are you doing? Have you cracked?”
“Come on, Melody,” I said in a much calmer, more soothing voice. “You don’t want to do this. Don’t add a new crime to an old one.”
Melody shook her head sadly and told us that she had already added several new crimes, so what difference did it make? “In for a penny, in for a pound.”
The gun s
till gripped firmly in her hand, Melody herded us toward the sitting area. The main light fixture in the room was a floor lamp powered by a propane tank that was tucked neatly inside a large, round wooden base. Gesturing with the gun, Melody made the five of us sit around that base now, our backs to each other. Her eyes scanned the room and soon landed on Grete.
“Get some rope,” Melody said, and Grete did as she asked, walking calmly to the pantry, reaching inside, and coming out with a new package of clothesline cord. She carried it over to Melody and handed it to her.
“Open it,” Melody commanded.
Grete did as she said, and though her hands were steady, I could see the fear in her eyes, especially when Melody told her to tie us up. Reluctantly, Grete secured one end of the rope to the pole and began wrapping it around us.
“You’re my mother,” Haley cried. “I can’t believe you let me blame myself all these years for a fire you started.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I never meant to frame you or your friends—or to kill the Schumanns. That all just sort of happened.”
“Sort of happened?” I demanded. “How?”
Tightening her grip on the gun, Melody kept one eye on Grete’s movements as she explained.
“Harold—Dr. Updyke—asked if I wanted to meet him out here that night for the delivery, and of course I said yes. I wanted to see if his in utero gene therapy procedure had worked.”
“Wait,” I said, shaking my head. “How did you know about it? What did that have to do with you?”
Melody seemed surprised by my question at first, but then her eyes narrowed.
“Well, it’s not something I tell people, dear, but as part of my divorce settlement I arranged to receive a large block of stock in the WIRE. As a major stockholder as well as a scientist working in the field of DNA myself, I had a significant interest in their work. Harold understood that, and he kept me apprised of his experiments—including the ones done without the FDA’s knowledge. We even conducted a few top secret experiments together, ones that combined my work with plant DNA and his with human DNA. It was a win-win situation for both of us, as you can imagine.”
Shadows of Lancaster County Page 31