The Confession

by Beverly Lewis

  Tobias seemingly understood and began to whinny over and over, shaking his head again and again. But Ben couldn’t bring himself to weep along with his father or to have a temper fit with stubborn Tobias. Still, his innards sure felt tore up, but good.

  When it was time, Katherine returned to the dining room with Garrett to clear away the dainty dessert dishes. She took Laura’s plate and fork, handed to her by Rosie, and stopped in her tracks when she glanced over at the easel. Mr. Wirth was beginning to sketch some Amish clothing, the impostor’s, probably.

  She wanted to rush over and set him straight, tell him that not even the fake daughter’s clothing represented any of the Lancaster orders. Truth be told, nothing about the woman was honest or decent.

  Just when she thought she might disregard Rosie’s request and actually speak to the artist while assisting at the table—just at that moment the fork slipped off the plate in her hand, and embarrassed, she bent down to retrieve it. When she did so, her maid’s cap fell off and Katherine’s hair cascaded over her shoulders.

  Justin Wirth turned and looked at her, acknowledging her with a nod, staring at her hair. Their eyes locked for a long, long moment; he released her at last by turning to study his own painting, then glancing over at Katie, who was chattering away to Laura.

  “Katherine,” prompted Rosie, “you may take the dishes to the kitchen, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she replied, holding her hair back from her face with one hand. She escaped into the kitchen to repair the bun and replace her cap, then hurried back to the dining room.

  When she returned for the crystal goblets, she knew she dare not look in the artist’s direction. Those scrutinizing blue eyes … ach, how they haunted her. Disturbed her no end, for they reminded her of Daniel’s.

  “How do the Amish celebrate Christmas?” Mr. Bennett spoke up.

  Startled for a moment, thinking it was she the man was speaking to, Katherine opened her mouth to reply. Thankfully, she caught herself in time to remember she was no longer Amish. In time to overhear a pathetic, inaccurate account of Plain folk running around with handsaws, cutting down trees, dragging them out of the forest to their homes to be decorated with quilted homemade ornaments. She almost laughed at the ridiculous spiel. And something about the way it all tumbled out, something about the way the impostor’s lies seemed to roll off her tongue, told Katherine the whole thing had been very well rehearsed.

  “Excuse me, but that’s not the way it is,” Katherine blurted out. “Amish people don’t celebrate Christmas with decorated trees.”

  Rosie and Garrett gawked at her, but she couldn’t stop. Had to explain things the way they truly were.

  “How would you know?” the false Katie accused.

  “I know” was all Katherine said, turning her full gaze on the woman in her Amish costume.

  Mr. Bennett stood up suddenly. “Who is this woman?” he demanded.

  Katherine cringed. Himmel! She’d spoken out of turn, should never have given in to her emotions. Now she was done for.

  Rosie made an attempt to gloss things over. “This is our new maid, sir. Fulton signed her on two days ago.”

  “Does the woman have a name?” he bellowed.

  She spoke up quickly. “Katherine, sir.”

  His face flushed bright red. “Yes, well, may I see you outside?” He gave a nod toward the hallway.

  “Excuse me,” she said, especially for Laura’s and Rosie’s sake. But she kept her eyes on the floor when it came to Katie Lapp, sitting so smug in all her glory. Puh!

  “So … it’s Katherine, is it?” He purposely lowered his voice, hoping for a chilling effect.

  “At your service, Mr. Bennett.” She curtsied.

  “What is the requirement for servants’ communication at the table?” he drilled her, captivated by her stubborn yet refreshing naiveté.

  “ ‘Speak only when spoken to in regards to table or food needs,’ ” Katherine recited.

  “Very well. You broke the rules of the house, and what?—during your first days of employment? Not a good beginning.”

  Would she break down? Cry for him? he wondered.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll try harder next time” came the meek little voice. Much like a child would address her parent.

  He had to suppress a laugh, lest he be heard in the dining room. Initiating their movement down the hall, he led her farther away from the gathering. “We’ll certainly see about that, won’t we?”

  “No, sir … I mean, yes, sir,” the young woman stammered.

  She couldn’t be much older than his New York model. Still, he looked her over, up and down, surprised that she was still casting an innocent gaze back at him when his eyes fell on her face once more.

  This woman … what was it about her? So very different from the brazen, even seductive Alyson Cairns he’d brought here to deceive his dying wife.

  “I shouldn’t have said anything about the Amish, sir.”

  It would seem she was begging … pleading with him not to reprimand her further. Remarkable!

  He added, “You will be placed on a probation of sorts.”

  “Probation?”

  It was clear the woman had no clue of the word’s meaning, and he chuckled. “Where’ve you been all your life?”

  “Hickory Hollow, sir.”

  “I see.” He wouldn’t let her unsophisticated demeanor rub him the wrong way. Yet what was it—that look about her?

  “Hickory Hollow’s an Amish community, sir,” she continued. “I know about the Amish ways because I grew up in the Old Order.”

  He felt his eyes narrow into judgmental slits. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Katherine, sir … from Hickory Hollow, Pennsylvania. I called you up on the phone not too long ago. Don’t you remember?”

  And he’d thought she was merely a misinformed yokel! How could he have miscalculated so?

  “Pack your bags this instant,” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder.

  “I’m your wife’s true daughter” came the amazing reply. “You mustn’t force me to leave, Mr. Dylan D. Bennett. I’ve come such a long way!”

  “What’s your proof?”

  “I have her hair.” Katherine ripped off her maid’s cap, auburn curls once again tumbling about her face, then turned her profile toward him. “And her chin. See?”

  “You have nothing, you conniving little tramp!” He restrained her when she tried to push past him. “I’ll have you arrested,” he threatened. “You’ll never set foot in this house again!”

  Struggling, he clamped his hand over her delicate mouth and forced her to the stairs.

  The commotion in the hallway disturbed Laura. She kept looking to Rosie for some explanation. “Dylan seemed terribly upset just now.”

  But the maid could only shrug her shoulders. “Something’s got Mr. Bennett riled is all I know.”

  Even Justin had abandoned his brush to peer out the doorway. Such a bellowing. And for what?

  Laura supposed it had to be something out of the ordinary to ruffle Dylan’s feathers so. Possibly the new maid’s outrageous comment. How did she know about Amish celebrations?

  With the stress and the worrisome questions, came another attack. This time the pain shot through her face, accompanied by tremors in her throat. When she tried to speak, to cry out, only the most guttural sounds emerged.

  Natalie was summoned, and before she could be excused, Laura found herself being whisked out of the dining room.

  Christmas Day … oh, her heart went out to her daughter left sitting there alone at the table.

  She prayed silently that the Lord might allow something beneficial to come of the exodus. Perhaps now Justin could focus on Katie, on painting her into the mother-daughter portrait.

  It was late afternoon by the time Katherine checked into a roadside motel, having arrived by taxi. She stopped crying long enough to pay the lobby clerk for two day’s rent. What she would do after that, she didn’t k
now. Acquiring a job should be ever so easy, though, for a former Amishwoman who could cook, keep house, care for children.…

  But landing a job was the last thing on her mind.

  She dried her tears and set about the chore of unpacking her bag, then put her guitar away last of all. Sitting at the desk in the small, musty room, she clenched her fists against the thought of having been thrown out of the estate … threatened, too, by that vicious man, Laura’s husband! She thought too, of her brief stay at the Bennett mansion, regretting having no time or opportunity to say her good-byes to the servants. For in such a short time, they’d become friends.

  She thought of Rosie and Fulton, how they’d taken her under their collective wing, so to speak. And Mr. Williams—she did believe the old gentleman was just beginning to warm up to her.

  Everyone had been so kind. Everyone except the master of the house. He had acted like the devil himself, and she wasn’t all that sure that he wasn’t.

  After her unpacking was done, she realized the potpourri sachets had been left behind in the corners of the bureau drawers. All of them, even her own lilac ones.

  The thought of having abandoned her own handmade creations caused her to cry all over again. But in the sadness—the pitying of herself—came the surprising answer to Mr. Bennett’s accusation.

  What’s your proof? he’d roared at her.

  Suddenly, she knew … realized fully what she needed for evidence, as sure as she was Laura Bennett’s daughter, she knew. Now … how would she go about getting it? Who did she know in Hickory Hollow with a telephone?

  Lydia Miller, of course! For the first time in several hours, Katherine smiled. Smiled so hard that half a dimple popped out on one cheek; she spied it in the wide mirror over the dresser.

  There was proof. The kind of proof Mr. Bennett could never dispute. The rotten-to-the-core man would drop his teeth. For sure and for certain.

  Now … how to get her hands on the satin baby gown?

  PART III

  The Lord is my light and my salvation—

  whom shall I fear?

  Psalms 27:1

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lydia Miller went about the living room, gathering up crumpled wrapping paper amidst toys and games—Christmas presents to her young grandchildren. She was truly surprised when Edna summoned her from the kitchen wall phone. “I think it’s long distance,” her daughter-in-law said, covering the receiver. “Sounds like it might be Katherine.”

  “Katie Lapp?”

  Edna nodded, and Lydia swept loose strands of hair into her covering before taking the phone. “Hello?”

  “Cousin Lydia … it’s me, Katherine, calling all the way from New York.”

  “Well, Merry Christmas to you. How nice to hear your voice.”

  There was a slight pause. “Lydia, uh, I was wondering … well, I need your help.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, really I am. But I wonder if you could drive over to my mamma’s house. I need you to talk to her. Today.”

  Lydia wondered what could be so important on a busy Christmas afternoon. But as the sketchy details began to unfold, she felt the weight of responsibility begin to settle on her shoulders. Still, she wasn’t at all unwilling to do Katherine’s bidding. “I’ll see what I can do,” she promised.

  “Remember to ask Mamma gently. You’ll do that, won’t you, Cousin Lydia?”

  “Of course I will.” She sighed, wondering if she oughtn’t to mention that Katie’s mother and Ella Mae Zook had dropped by for a visit.

  Stepping out in faith, hoping what she was about to say might help things, not hinder, Lydia told Katherine about the unexpected visit.

  “Mamma … and the Wise Woman, really? They came to see you?”

  “I know … I was surprised, too.”

  “Well, how’s Mam doing?”

  Lydia stared at the lights on the tree. “I’d say she must be awful preoccupied. She’s suffered a terrible loss.”

  “True,” came a tentative reply.

  There was an awkward pause.

  “So … you want me to get your old baby dress from her, then?”

  “That’s right. Only please tell my mother you want to borrow it. See what she says about that.”

  “I won’t lie, Katherine. You know better than to ask me to.” She wondered if the world had begun to rub off on her cousin’s daughter.

  “It wouldn’t be a lie,” Katherine insisted. “She’ll have it back … in all good time.”

  Lydia sat down on the wooden stool near the wall while the caller continued. “Once you have it, I’ll need you to mail it … by overnight mail, please. To me.” And she gave the address of the motel.

  “Aren’t you staying at your natural mother’s place?”

  “Not now. It’s a very long story, and I hope to share it with you someday, but … well, I’m paying for long distance.”

  “I understand, but I hate to think of you being at a motel some- where, especially on Christmas Day. Bless your heart. Why, Rebecca would be worried sick if she knew.”

  “Oh, but she mustn’t! Please don’t tell Mamma that part. I’m fine here, Cousin Lydia, really I am. But getting the baby dress will solve everything. So if you’ll save the receipt for the mailing, I’ll pay you back. Please … this is ever so important to me.”

  Lydia could hear the longing in the young woman’s voice. “I’ll try, Katherine. But I’m telling you it may not be easy. Word has it your mother’s not well.”

  “Mamma isn’t?”

  “Well, she’s not herself, to say the least.”

  “Ach, no!”

  “It’s been a real blow, losin’ her daughter both to a bishop’s decree and then to a fancy, worldly woman.”

  “Oh, but you’re wrong. My natural mother is anything but worldly. She’s a good, honest woman. And I think she’s about to be hoodwinked, possibly out of a lot of money. Maybe even her entire fortune.”

  Alarmed, Lydia promised to do her best to get the baby gown mailed up to New York. Fast as she could.

  Nothing about the visit to the Lapp home was easy. To start with, Samuel almost didn’t let her in—“because Rebecca’s lyin’ down just now,” he apologized.

  “Oh, I can come back later,” she said.

  At that, he seemed to open the door a bit wider even as he stood there making excuses for Rebecca who “ain’t in any shape to be comin’ downstairs for company.”

  Unconsciously, Lydia fixed her eyes on his tan suspenders, the sound of Katie’s pleading over the phone echoing in her mind. The poor displaced girl was counting on her. And it was odd, but something inside her—a surprisingly powerful resolve—wouldn’t let Lydia back off this first attempt at seeing Rebecca Lapp. Not without trying harder, at least.

  “Maybe I could run up and see her. That way she wouldn’t have to get dressed and all … unless she’s sleeping.”

  Samuel shook his head. “No, no, she ain’t asleep, but she’s been through a horrible, awful time today.” A long pause. “ ’Tis our first Christmas without … without the girl. You can imagine.…”

  But, no, she couldn’t imagine. Her children were all grown and gone, true, but to have one of them leave the community because of some age-old ridiculous shunning practice! No … never.

  She noticed the man’s sunken eyes. One look at his forlorn countenance and Lydia could readily see the aftermath of grief. He, too, was suffering great loss.

  “I’m so sorry … wish Peter and I could’ve helped Katie out more.” She’d struggled off and on with guilt, having opened her home to Samuel and Rebecca’s runaway daughter.

  “You did all ya could,” Samuel replied, and with that, he motioned her inside, took her coat, and led her upstairs.

  When Lydia first laid eyes on her cousin, she felt near like crying herself. Rebecca was all doubled up on the bed, as though she was experiencing tremendous pain. She lay on her side, clutching a rosecolored baby dress in both hands.


  The part that evoked tears was seeing the Amishwoman’s lips move as if she were talking to the little dress; yet not a sound escaped her lips. Only Samuel’s hard, frightened breathing could be heard in the room.

  Lydia searched her pocketbook for a tissue. What had gone wrong? she wondered. How had her cousin slipped from yesterday’s semidetached behavior to this? Had the severe shunning of her daughter pushed the woman over the edge?

  Lydia could easily see there’d be no approaching Rebecca about giving up the beloved gown. Not today. Not with her clinging to it as if it were a lifeline to Katie, somehow.

  Even if she went ahead and asked for it the way Katherine had suggested—to borrow it for a while—even then she knew the plea would be refused or misunderstood. No, borrowing the only threadlike connection to Katie—a symbol that might well be preserving the confused woman’s sanity—well, it was out of the question completely.

  How long she stood there, Lydia didn’t know exactly. But when she turned to whisper to Samuel—that she’d best be going—Rebecca stirred a bit.

  Startled, she hurried to the distraught woman’s bedside.

  “Rebecca … it’s your cousin Lydia. Is there something I can do for you?”

  Rebecca’s eyes were empty, dazed, and she began to moan—long, low-pitched groans, as if in travail.

  The glassy-eyed look took Lydia by surprise—she was that shook up. “You don’t have to speak, Cousin, but maybe a nod of the head?” She hated to inquire this way, as if she were talking to someone other than her own blood kin. Someone completely unrelated. “Are you in pain?” She had to know.

  It was then that Katie’s mamma placed her hand on her breast and tried to sit up.

  “Are you in physical pain, Rebecca?”

  Her cousin stared back blankly.

  “Can you hear me?” she tried again.

  Unexpectedly, there came a nod. “I must get up … must take care of Katie. Don’t you hear my baby crying?”