Gone … his former life. Gone, his future with Katie.
Pinning a gold clasp to his tie, Dan wondered what Samuel Lapp’s only daughter would think of him now if she could see him dressed this way. “Fancy like the English,” Katie would say. A sobering thought, to be sure.
Would he never stop thinking of the girl he’d left behind? All these years, the one thing that had kept him going was the hope that his sweetheart girl must have surely found happiness with another man. A good fellow in the Amish church who embraced the same faith as her forefathers.
Yet thoughts of Katie—sweet, headstrong girl that she was— married to someone else tore at his soul. He was caught in the middle, with no way out.
Outside, the noonday sun made ribbons of gold on the deep, deep snow, and as Dan left his home, most of the house lights shone out from the windows, upstairs and down. Giving no thought to the huge electric bill sure to follow, he drove his fine car through icy streets, his heart as heavy as the new-fallen snow.
Chapter Twenty
Tall tapers were flickering on the dining room table when Dan arrived at the Hess home. In spite of the snowy brightness outside, Owen’s wife had set a festive table, complete with candlelight.
He and his boss settled into comfortable chairs in the living room, visiting, doing their best to avoid “shop talk” while Eve worked in the kitchen. “It’s good you’re taking some time off here soon,” Owen commented.
“I’m looking forward to it. Hope to visit relatives in Pennsylvania.” “Oh … whereabouts?”
“The Lancaster area. Ever hear of a place called Hickory Hollow?”
A lump constricted in his stomach. Even speaking the name of his birthplace brought on a mixture of emotions—both stress and bliss.
“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of it, really. Must be a little hamlet somewhere off in the hills.”
“That’s right.” He paused.
“What relatives do you have living there?” came the curious reply.
“Actually, my entire family lives there. My parents and brothers—all married. And Annie, my sister, she’s a married woman now, I hear.”
“Well, you should’ve asked off for her wedding,” Owen said, smiling. “I’m an understanding man.”
Dan leaned forward, feeling the tension knotting in his neck. “It’s been over five years since I’ve seen any of them.” The realization brought renewed sorrow. “It’s time for a visit.”
“I should say so.” Wearing a serious expression, Owen folded his arms across his chest. “I think you’ve been working too many long hours here lately.”
Dan sighed and plunged in. “I suppose … well, there’s a reason why I work so much.” And he began to unravel bits and pieces of his secret past.
When his chronicle was through, he sat back and let out a deep breath. He’d purposely left out a few sacred details. Couldn’t bring himself to verbalize everything—the wounds still so raw. Couldn’t just blurt out the reason why he’d let the People—Katie, too—think he’d died in the sailing accident.
Owen sat up, folded his hands, and expressed a desire to pray. “Let’s ask the Lord to go before you, to open the doors for you to speak to your father. We’ll pray that God will soften the hearts of your people … your family.”
Owen had not mentioned a word about Katie. But then, Dan’s friend wasn’t the type of man to risk embarrassing anyone. Not in the least.
“Do I have time to make a phone call?” the impostor asked as she and Katherine passed in the hall, a few feet from the library. The woman looked well rested, Katherine thought, after having been up all hours the night before.
She shrugged. “Dinner will be served any minute now, but go ahead.”
“Then you’ll cover for me?” The woman sounded much too demanding, but before Katherine could reply, Katie Lapp scurried off into the enormous room filled with many, many books and one telephone.
Not interested in listening to another disgusting conversation, Katherine stayed put, waiting outside as the young woman placed her call.
Fortunately, the phone chat didn’t last more than a few minutes.
Katie rushed out of the library, her eyes bright. “I haven’t missed anything, have I?”
“Not a thing.”
“That’s good, because I was dying to talk to my boyfriend. He’s really put out with me that I’m not home for Christmas.”
Katherine decided to take a chance. “Oh? Where is home?”
“Pennsylvania.”
“Really? I’m from there, too.”
The smile faded instantly. “Small world,” mumbled the woman, and Katherine thought she heard a groan.
“So it is.” Unconsciously, she reached up to adjust her cap. A mere habit, a reflex born of the Plain years. Instead, her hand found the ruffled maid’s cap, the fancy thing that marked her new life.
It had been harder to deal with his wife than Samuel Lapp would ever have thought possible. Rebecca was pretty near hysterical.
“I said I was sorry about the baby crying and bothering everyone’s dinner. I knew I shouldn’t have let her sleep all by herself upstairs,” she sobbed in the front room.
Samuel had no idea what to do or say to get his wife calmed down. She’d caused such a scene at the table, and Annie, dear girl, was left to clean the kitchen alone.
Elam, Eli, and Benjamin, much to his relief, had vacated the house. But now here he was, with a dilemma on his hands: how to help Rebecca get ahold of herself.
He took both her hands in his. “There’s no baby upstairs, Becky, honest there ain’t. There’s only one baby in the house right now; it’s little Daniel, and lookee here”—he guided his sniffling wife over to the doorway, and they peered through to the kitchen—“he’s sound asleep over there in the cradle Elam made.”
His wife’s eyes were dark, unusually so, and the look in them was alarming. He thought about riding over to see the bishop after a bit, have a quick, quiet talk. On second thought, he didn’t want to disrupt John Beiler’s Christmas with his family. Didn’t want to let on anything was wrong in front of the children, neither.
Rebecca was crying more softly now. “I want my baby girl back. Can’t live another day without my Katie girl.”
He took the sobbing woman in his arms, held her close. There was no rebuking her now. She’d spoken their shunned daughter’s name, not out of willful disobedience. Rebecca was clearly out of her mind.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, groping for something to ease her pain. “We’ll keep on a-praying for her soul.”
It had been the only approach to take. The weeping ceased and his wife pulled away. A smile broke across the tear-streaked face. “Ach, you will help bring her home, won’tcha, Samuel? You gonna help me get our baby girl back?”
He leaned down and kissed her wet face. “I miss her, too, Becky … I do.” And he brushed away his dear wife’s tears gently with his thumbs, wondering if and when she’d ever be right again.
Dylan let himself in the front door, catching the aroma of roast duck. “Splendid,” he whispered, ignoring the fact that Fulton was not at his post.
He kept his overcoat and scarf on until after arriving in his upstairs office, where he removed both, draping them over the leather couch. How good to be home again, he thought and wondered when he ought to seek out his Amish impersonator.
Quickly, he located his files—his secret copy of Laura’s last will and testament. He was pleased. Everything was in order, where it belonged.
A loud knock came at his door, and he jumped, startled. “Who’s there?” he called.
“Fulton, sir.”
“One moment.” Dylan gathered up the papers and stuffed them back into the file drawer. Then moving around to his desk, he sat down, folding his hands in front of him. “Come in.”
The door opened and in walked the butler. “Christmas dinner will be served in ten minutes, sir.”
“In the dining room?”
Ful
ton nodded slowly, then paused for a moment. “Mrs. Bennett and her daughter plan to join you there as well.”
“Ah … good.” He’d guessed the three of them might share this special meal. “Together at last,” he quipped.
“Indeed.” Fulton stood there, waiting to be excused, his eyes set in a cold, unforgiving stare. “Will that be all, sir?”
“One more thing. How are the mother and daughter getting along, would you say?”
“Famously” came a stony reply.
“I see. And what of Mrs. Bennett’s health?”
“Sir?”
“Is it safe to assume the mistress will be comfortably sedated for the meal?”
“Nurse Judah is better prepared to answer that question, sir.”
He rubbed his chin, waiting, yes, taunting the tall man.
“I see, but what is your assessment of the mistress’s overall demeanor?”
Obviously annoyed, Fulton shrugged. “I’d say she’s quite delighted, sir. Happy to be celebrating the Good Lord’s birthday.”
Dylan cringed. Why must the man bring the Lord into it?
“But what of her illness? Is she improving?” he pressed further.
An eye-opening smile played across the butler’s face. “With God’s help, I pray Mrs. Bennett might outlive us all.”
Suppressing a curse, Dylan excused the butler immediately.
Katherine held the box of matches in her hand, gazing down the hallway for a long moment. Mr. Bennett was home; she could hear his deep voice, mingled with Katie Lapp’s and Rosie’s, who was most likely feeding the mistress her dinner.
Apprehension gripped her, threatening her resolve.
This is what you’ve been waiting for. Now is your moment.
But she wasn’t ready to seize it. Couldn’t get her confidence back, for one thing. She thought of the sachet link between herself and the mistress, the color and thickness of their hair … everything and anything to encourage herself. Boost her spirits.
But it was the painting, and her rightful place in it, that made her blood pressure rise. She would move heaven and earth to see that the phony Katie never, never showed up in that mother-daughter portrait!
When Selig burst through the kitchen’s double doors carrying a two-layer cake perched high on an elegant silver cake stand, she was ready and eager to follow him down the hall and into the luxurious dining room.
Inside, Rosie was seated to Laura’s left, feeding her a spoonful at a time. The sight of it pained Katherine greatly, and she had to look away. Yet doing so forced her to view either Mr. Bennett or Katie Lapp. Neither a worthy subject.
With a flourish, Selig set the elaborately decorated cake in the center of the long table, between two candelabra—directly across from the masquerader. Mr. Bennett and Laura sat at either end, and Katherine was surprised to hear both of them join in when Rosie started up the “Birthday Song.”
That was her cue to light the candles. She took several steps toward the table, and leaning over opposite the impostor, she struck the first match, willing her hands not to tremble. Not to cause the slightest mishap in the lighting.
Dan pulled his gaze away from the candle flame positioned in front of his dinner plate on the Hess table. How he longed to see his sweetheart again. If only for one glimpse.
When he visited Annie, he would plead with his sister to tell him of Katie’s marriage. This, only after they discussed thoroughly a plan to approach their father for Dan’s confession.
Yet he wondered, when the time came to hear the truth, could he take it like a man? Could he bear the pain?
If only he could arrange to observe Katie discreetly from afar. Across the barnyard, perhaps? As she hung out the week’s wash on the front porch clothesline, maybe. She’d never have to know.…
“Can I get either of you some more coffee?” Eve asked as she snuffed out the candles and turned up the dimmer switch.
“Not for me, thanks.” Dan watched the spiral of smoke as it curled toward the modest chandelier overhead. “Everything was delicious, Eve. Thank you for sharing your Christmas dinner. I really appreciate it.”
“Oh, anytime.” She smiled at him and turned to go into the kitchen.
“We mean that, you know.” Owen wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Now, about the young woman you mentioned earlier. How will Miss Katie take the news of your being alive?”
Dan wished his friend hadn’t mentioned it. “It’s hard to say, really, but I don’t plan to be around when the People find out about my confession. Katie included.”
“So you’ll leave Hickory Hollow without seeing her?”
He felt very nearly ill. Never before had he allowed himself to consider how he might handle things.
“She’s better off hearing it from Annie. My sister’s her oldest brother’s wife.”
“Ah … so you’re nearly related, then,” offered Owen.
Dan hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t wanted to. There’d been enough of a love-bond between them without having to look the present facts squarely in the face. He didn’t need his and Katie’s past tied to an extended-family relationship in order to reconnect them.
Anyway, it was cruel to anticipate such a reunion. He wouldn’t taunt himself, wouldn’t entertain the hope of having Katie back. No, Elam’s little sister was long married. He was almost sure of it.
Chapter Twenty-One
As it turned out, Laura hadn’t gotten around to telling her daughter about her grandparents—the original owners of the estate. She’d planned to inform Katie of the will earlier this morning. This she felt to be a wise move, since who could tell what Dylan might do to get his hands on the young woman’s inheritance after Laura’s death?
A violent contracture of her ankle and lower leg had occurred after breakfast, and much to her dismay, Nurse Judah had had to notify the doctor. He, in turn, had ordered an hour of physical therapy. Excruciating as it was, the procedure had limbered up her muscles, easing some of the cramping, as well. But she’d completely missed out on her time with Katie.
Now as she sat in her beautiful dining room, she wondered when the appropriate time might present itself. Between bites of lemon cake, she tried to draw Katie out, to get her to share more of her life in Amish country.
“Perhaps she’d rather not talk about it in front of everyone, dear,” Dylan piped up.
From the corner of the room, she noticed the blurred shape of Justin Wirth turn and face this way, curiously. “Oh, but I find the Plain lifestyle fascinating,” the artist remarked.
Laura had nearly forgotten the man was even in the room, he worked so effortlessly, so silently. “Yes,” she said softly, the word sticking in her throat. She was having much more difficulty swallowing. More so each day that passed.
“Where is it you come from?” Justin asked Katie.
“Lancaster, Pennsylvania. About five hours south of here.”
“Nice place,” he remarked.
Laura made another attempt at communicating. “Yes … it was beautiful even … even when I visited many … years ago.” She was not about to reveal the truth of her most recent journey to Pennsylvania Dutch country. Besides, it was an effort to get the words out today. Sheer frustration had come with this untimely speech impediment where, always before, her enunciation had been precise. She was mortified.
Most upsetting of all was the humiliation of having to be fed in front of her husband and daughter. Still, she would not give up hope. Not until after she’d spoken with Katie in private. Then, and only then, would she allow the disease to run its terrible course.
Here lately, Benjamin Lapp had been spending more time with the family pony, his shunned sister’s pony, really. Funniest thing, he couldn’t get the animal to come when called. Didn’t seem to know his name—Tobias. But it was, after all, the name Katie had given him, long before she’d up and gone ferhoodled, disobeying the bishop over a guitar and some ridiculous tunes she’d made up.
Truth was, he couldn’t get
Tobias to eat much, either. The beautiful animal had turned downright dumb. Ben had told his father and Eli about it, but he guessed they’d decided to pay him no mind, ’cause nobody but Ben seemed to care a hoot about coaxin’ the poor thing to eat or drink.
Today he’d decided to try something new. Something sweet, straight from the dinner table. A sugar cookie, with extra sugar sprinkled on top.
He held the treat under Tobias’s nose, letting him have a whiff, then crumpled it into the feed trough below. “There now, have yourself some dessert mixed with hay.” He stroked the pony’s mane. “Katie ain’t here to spoil ya rotten, but I am. Now, please, won’tcha eat?”
He heard the scrape of work boots behind him. Turning, he saw his father’s scowling face, and the angry words spewed forth. “Benjamin, didn’t I tell ya weeks ago not to be mentioning your sister’s name in my house? That goes for the barn, too. Your sister’s under the shunning, have ya so soon forgotten?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, then, what do ya mean by talking to this pony about that … that …” His father slumped down, bent his knee to the dirt floor.
“Dat? What’s-a-matter?” He ran to his father.
Weeping, Samuel leaned his elbow on one knee and smothered his face into his big callused hand. “Your mamma’s going crazy, Ben … and I can’t just stand by and watch … watch her.… She’s not herself no more.”
“Aw, Pop, it’ll be all right,” he managed to say. “The bishop did the right thing, shunning my sister … didn’t he?”
Shaking his head, Samuel moaned like he was in terrible pain, then he blurted out a whole slew of words in German, hurling profanities into the bitter cold air.
The Confession Page 17