The Confession

by Beverly Lewis

  The servants had had to scramble to put together this impromptu supper setting, but nary a complaint from Selig or Garrett about the change in plans, Rosie noticed. The mistress was a jewel of a lady, she was. They all loved her unreservedly and would never leave her—not as long as she drew breath. But she’d not think of that—not now.

  Without purposely eavesdropping, Rosie caught snatches of conversation as Garrett held and served abundant food platters and matching service dishes for the mistress and her guest. Rosie would assist Mrs. Bennett by feeding her.

  “What was it like growing up without electricity?” Mrs. Bennett asked her daughter.

  “Ach, not so bad” came the reply. “We made do with oil lamps and lanterns.”

  Mrs. Bennett leaned forward. “Did you ever entertain secret thoughts, ask yourself how it would be to plug in a radio or television? Or to operate a computer or cook on an electric range in your own home?”

  “Not that I remember. But I did always think it would be wonderful to live in a mansion like this.”

  Rosie chuckled quietly. The unlikely twosome were getting along famously … now. Still, she noticed how vague Katie’s answers seemed—responses most anyone could give at the drop of a hat.

  In the midst of this congenial conversation, she puzzled over the new maid—Katherine, who seemed to know all about making coconut custard pie, Amish style. Katherine, with hair the identical color of Laura’s.

  Perplexed, Rosie left for the butler’s pantry. She must speak with Fulton as soon as possible.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The longer Laura posed for the artist, the better she liked what was evolving on canvas. Justin had already begun to create a warm holiday setting, sketching Laura first and leaving a blank space for Katie. “For later,” he told her when she casually inquired.

  Did he think she might die before he finished? A reasonable assumption, to be sure. The more she thought of it, while sitting as still as the medication would allow, the more she was fairly certain that was the reason Justin concentrated so carefully on her outline alone.

  Feeling perkier than she had all day, Laura listened closely as Katie spoke of her life, growing up on an Amish farm. “We were always up by four-thirty every morning, even Sundays. After all, someone had to milk the cows.”

  Laura found herself laughing along with the woman. She’d turned out to be so very talkative and charming. Laura couldn’t quite fathom the difference between the original shy, almost sullen Katie, and this vivacious creature seated across the table from her.

  “Tell me about your church services. What sort of music do you sing? Or is there music at all?”

  Setting down her fork, Katie smiled. “We don’t have instrumental music at church. Someone leads out in a song from the hymnbook, and the rest of us join in.”

  Laura nodded, trying hard to imagine only a cappella singing for the worship. “Do you sing in English?”

  Katie shook her head. “Never.”

  Impulsively, she asked, “Will you say something in Dutch for me?”

  The girl turned pale. “Oh, I mustn’t speak it to outsiders. The bishop wouldn’t approve.”

  “The bishop?”

  “He makes all our rules—what we can and can’t do around non-Amish folk.”

  Laura reached out to touch her elbow. “Well, I’m not just any English person, am I?”

  Smiling, Katie agreed that she was not. “But it’s best I don’t break the rules.”

  Laura folded her hands in her lap, eager for more information about doctrine and religious beliefs. She was met, however, with obvious resistance each time she quizzed her daughter. Katie was clearly uncomfortable. “Very well. Let me tell you something of my own beliefs—my faith in Jesus Christ, my Savior and Lord.”

  Katie was polite enough to listen, although Laura suspected along about dessert time that her girl was truly bored with the Scripture references and favorite Bible passages she had been quoting. It was evidenced by the way Katie began to fidget and lose eye contact with her, something Laura had so enjoyed earlier in the evening.

  “There is only one reason I wish to bring up spiritual matters,” she found herself explaining. “I lived my life without Christ for thirty-six long years. Are you familiar with the hymn ‘Amazing Grace’? Well, God’s love is all that and so much more, and only because I love you, Katie, do I share my personal experience.” She took in a deep breath, and praying a silent prayer for guidance, she forged ahead with her personal testimonial.

  When she finished, Katie spoke up. “I’ve never heard such a thing. God’s Son coming to earth to die … for me?”

  “The first time I heard it told, I, too, could scarcely take it in.”

  The younger woman looked pensive. “But I don’t see how I could just throw away my Amish belief,” came the tentative reply. “My parents … my adoptive parents would be so hurt. And my brothers and sisters …”

  Laura felt weak suddenly. “I don’t expect you to believe the way I do just because we’ve found each other. Please understand that.”

  Nodding, Katie spoke in a near whisper. “You don’t know how hard it’s been to leave my family and friends to come here … even for this short time.”

  “I understand, and I appreciate it very much.” She sighed, turning the conversation toward Katie’s adoptive family. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

  “Five sisters and four brothers. Most of them are grown and gone.”

  “So … your parents had children before … before the stillbirth?” Laura recalled the first moment of meeting. How devastated and forlorn the Amish couple had looked, there in the corridor of Lancaster General Hospital. The day was as fresh on her mind as if it had happened yesterday.

  Katie’s expression changed; she seemed stunned for a moment.

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned—”

  “No, no, it was just such a painful time for my parents,” the girl said with little emotion. “I first heard about it when I was ten.”

  “I see.” She wondered if Katie had also been informed of the money hidden away in the folds of the baby blanket. The money and the note—showing how much Laura, as an unwed teenage mother, had cared and loved her newborn baby. She hesitated to bring it up, lest the adoptive parents had seen fit to keep that part a secret. Perfectly acceptable, of course. Sometimes undisclosed family secrets were better left alone.

  Still, she wondered when the right moment might present itself to speak about the future. The moment she would inform her daughter of her rightful inheritance.

  Glancing away, Katie remarked, “Look, how pretty!”

  Laura turned slightly in her chair to see Justin adding a hearty Christmas tree branch on the canvas background. “Mr. Wirth is an excellent artist—the best—wouldn’t you agree? That’s why I hired him to paint this portrait.”

  “How long before it’s to be finished?” asked Katie.

  “The artist will stay on here through Christmas week. And when the project is complete, the portrait is my gift to you.”

  Katie’s eyes lit up. “For me?”

  “That and so much more.” Was now the time to tell her?

  A burst of gladness swept across Katie’s face. “You’re the most generous woman I’ve ever known … Mother.” Without warning, the girl stood up and planted a kiss on Laura’s cheek.

  “You’ve been in my heart these many years,” she said, choking back the tears. “When we are completely alone, you’ll hear what I have planned for you.”

  Laura continued to observe her daughter throughout the course of the evening. How her face shone … and what radiant love in her eyes!

  Indeed, the girl seemed almost giddy with delight.

  Rosie managed to track down Fulton and bend his ear with her concerns about the supper conversation she’d overheard between Mrs. Bennett and Katie.

  “I scarcely recognize that Amishwoman anymore,” she said when they’d stepped out on the screened-in
porch for a quick chat. “She’s changed entirely.”

  Her husband listened, though seemed restless to get back to work. Then, lowering his tone, he said, “I’ve been noticing Katherine much more than Katie, and I think you and I were on to something before. The new maid has obvious physical traits, if you grasp my meaning.”

  Glancing about nervously, Rosie agreed. “I have an idea,” she whispered. “Do you think we should allow Katherine to help serve dessert tomorrow? Mrs. Bennett’s annual birthday cake for Christ?”

  Fulton pondered for a moment. “It’s worth considering.”

  “Well, shall we plan on it, then?” she asked, happy with the idea that a tradition started by Mrs. Bennett three years back might, in fact, be the perfect moment to usher in the new maid—at least get Katherine inside the private quarters. A marvelous opportunity for the two women to behold each other … at last. Perhaps then she and Fulton would be able to confirm their growing suspicions.

  Fulton rubbed his chin. “By all means, instruct Katherine not to converse with either the mistress or Katie, except as needed for courtesy’s sake. Then we’ll see what happens.”

  Like a schoolgirl on the trail of a mystery, Rosie put her hand to her throat. “Oh, I do hope this works out. Nothing would please me more.”

  Flushed with anticipation of the daring scheme, she hurried inside.

  While the mistress and Katie dined in quiet splendor down the hall, the servant staff and Nurse Judah gathered at the long kitchen table—an antique—bearing intricate carvings along its sides, and far removed from Mrs. Bennett’s intimate suite.

  It was to be a quick supper. Enjoyable, though.

  Katherine hadn’t remembered seeing all the domestic help in one room before, least not all at the same time. Wasn’t as if she were being presented formally to them, but it came mighty close.

  Several, including Nurse Judah and Garrett Smith, shook her hand, welcoming her to the “busy Bennett place,” as Garrett put it. And she wasn’t absolutely sure, but it almost seemed that he’d slanted her a quick wink.

  She noticed the older gentleman—Theodore Williams—who moved about the kitchen in ceaseless silence, and after one rapid assessment, she pegged him as the most interesting person in the room.

  Appearing rather subdued, the chauffeur located a vacant chair near the bay window overlooking the east gardens, now buried in snow. It was already too dark to investigate just how deeply the ground might be covered.

  With an air of reluctance, Mr. Williams sat down. He turned his head to face the window and remained in that position for a time. She watched him for what seemed a solid minute or more, before the man sighed audibly and tendered a faint smile when their eyes met.

  What’s bothering him? she wondered. Something was, ’twas plain to see. Ach, the weight of the world seemed to rest on the man’s slight frame.

  Years ago, her Amish girlfriend, Mary, had told her you could tell things about a person’s face—whether or not they were telling the truth—when they talked. But this man wasn’t saying a single word. She didn’t know why on earth it was so important for her to know if he could be trusted. No reason, really, she decided, and went about the pleasant chore of buttering her baby peas, carrots, and baked potato.

  The roast pork was so tender, she cut off bite-sized portions with only her fork, paying close attention as Natalie Judah, the sweet-faced nurse, explained what was taking place in Mrs. Bennett’s quarters. “Katie and her mother seem to have broken through the first icy layer … and I’m not sure what has made the difference.”

  Panicky feelings surfaced, yet Katherine dared not speak up. Not now. She’d just have to wait and listen. Yet sin stirred within her soul—the sin of jealousy. She did not want an impostor “breaking the ice” with her mother, and she didn’t want to be sitting here enduring a report about it, either!

  Still, she found herself helpless to listen as Natalie continued. “I was beginning to wonder if they would ever click—those two—after their shaky start yesterday.”

  Katherine caught a curious exchange of glances between Rosie and her husband. What was that peculiar look that passed across the butler’s face?

  Discreetly, she stole additional glimpses at the husband-wife duo sitting up the table from her. She was not disturbed by the frequency of what seemed to be secretive looks shared. Oh, she’d seen her Amish parents do the same thing, and often. People connected by love often passed silent intimacies with their eyes.

  She knew it to be true, for she and her darling Dan had experienced something quite similar in their teen years. Especially during house church, while sitting on those hard wooden benches for three hours on a Sunday morning. A rather bittersweet circumstance for a girl who could scarcely sit still, yet a girl in love. The sweet part was that the men sat segregated from the women, which made it possible for Dan’s doting blue eyes to dance for her, offering love messages only sweethearts cherish.…

  Attempting to rid her mind of past lovely things, she tore her bread in half before buttering it. She savored the first bite, thinking how nice and even she’d cut the loaf tonight, with the aid of electricity, of course.

  Natalie was talking again, and Katherine found herself hanging on every word, occasionally peering down the table at Mr. Williams. Why wasn’t he entering into the conversation about the mistress and the Amishwoman?

  Naturally, if someone wanted to be rude, they might be asking her the same question. But it had been drilled into her—her whole life—to “fade into the woodwork,” so to speak, when elders gathered at the table or any other time. And with a quick look round at her new friends and colleagues, it was clear she was the youngest person present. Not only that, but she was a woman.

  Rebecca had taught her total submission to a man’s authority— under God, of course. Sitting here, enjoying Christmas Eve supper in the house of her natural mother, Katherine supposed—even though she was a woman grown and out on her own—that she was still attempting to throw off deeply ingrained practices. Customs so much a part of her, she could not shake them off at will or on a mere whim, either one.

  Had she not been a paid employee, she might’ve had the nerve to speak up and enter the conversation. Especially when it came to the part about Katie’s leaving the room so suddenly this evening. “And lo and behold, if Mrs. Bennett’s daughter didn’t turn around in the hallway and return with a tray of hors d’oeuvres,” said Natalie. “I couldn’t believe it!”

  “Well, of all things.” Theodore broke his silence, looking up, then wiping his face with his folded napkin.

  Katherine sat spellbound. Oh, she wanted to explain the situation. Tell them—all of them—that Katie Lapp, or whoever she was, had pulled the tray out of Katherine’s own hands and flounced back into the mistress’s room with it. That the young woman hadn’t understood a stitch of Pennsylvania Dutch, not even a simple comment about the weather being bitter cold.

  She wanted to tell them she thought Katie Lapp was an impostor, wanted to holler it out into the frigid New York air.

  Tonight, though, the cat had her tongue, no getting around it. So she sat there, enduring perpetual speculation about this and that and thus and so till she thought she might burst.

  It was moments later she realized Mr. Williams had spoken, as much as to agree with Natalie Judah that the Amishwoman had done something completely out of order. Katherine worried that what might follow could be a reprimand, and rightly so. Would the old man turn and speak to her next?

  She was fairly sure he didn’t know it was she who’d been assigned the tray of hors d’oeuvres. Relieved, she reached for her glass of ice water and sipped slowly, letting the coolness soothe her throat as it trickled down.

  Due to the snippets of information she’d overheard in the past twenty-four hours, she had come to understand that Mr. Williams was the mistress’s favorite chauffeur. Rosie had even hinted that the gentleman was also Mrs. Bennett’s confidant. This knowledge intrigued her, for the man had
grandfatherly qualities. Some of them even reminded her of Dawdi David, her mamma’s father, long deceased.

  Pondering this, she wondered: What secret things does Mr. Williamsknow about Laura Mayfield-Bennett? Had Katherine been more confident of her place in the household, she might’ve taken him aside and pumped him full of questions.

  When dessert was served, she focused her attention on the couple with the ongoing parade of darting glances. Jah, Rosie and Fulton Taylor seemed to know something they weren’t letting on to anyone. Might be, they were just the folk to help her.

  Laura realized, much later, that Dylan had not returned home from his supper outing. Strange that Katie had been the one to mention it.

  “Dylan’s in good hands,” she reassured her daughter. “We hire only the best of help, drivers included.”

  That seemed to suffice, and they went on talking about casual, carefree things—becoming more and more comfortable with each other.

  Rosie hurried in from the hall and began to clear away the holiday dishes. “You’ve had a long day,” she warned, cocking her head in that concerned way she had.

  “Long but happy.”

  “But tomorrow will be another full day—exchanging gifts and dining.”

  Smiling at her daughter, Laura replied, “I wish to soak up every minute I have left with my girl.”

  Then, not wanting to put a damper on things, she did not bring up the matter of her husband’s delay. Never said a word, even though her personal maid appeared altogether eager to engage in small talk. Especially with Laura’s daughter. So eager was she that Rosie slipped once and referred to Katie as Katherine.

  Laura promptly reminded her of the woman’s nickname. “She wants to be called by her Amish name.”

  “Yes, I’d just forgotten.” Rosie blushed. “Please, do forgive me, Katie.”

  The young woman nodded agreeably. “That’s all right. I’ve been called many things in my life.”