Then, within seconds, came the peace. The lull after a storm.
Later, she thanked Natalie, apologizing for her irrational behavior.
“You don’t have to excuse yourself, Mrs. Bennett. I understand that your flare-ups cause you great distress.”
She was silent for a moment, then spoke in a whisper. “In the end … will I lose control completely?”
Nurse Judah pursed her lips. “You mustn’t think that way. Do concentrate on living, Mrs. Bennett. We … I want you to survive this episode.”
Laura was comforted by Natalie’s hand on her perspiring forehead. The affectionate touch made the crises of the day somewhat more tolerable, indeed.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The next day, Katherine sat alone in her motel room, trying to work the TV remote. “What’s keeping Lydia?” she said aloud. “Mamma wouldn’t hold on to that baby dress if she knew I needed it. I know she wouldn’t.”
Giving up on the television, it being a tool of the devil anyway, she picked up the newspaper to read the “Help Wanted” section. Though her eyes scanned the ads, her mind was still fixed on her last moments at the Bennett estate.
What a fierce man—Dylan Bennett! She felt horribly frightened for her birth mother, a considerate and sweet lady having to live out the remaining days of her life with such a person.
When she thought of the wonderful-good oil painting, there was rage. The other Katie was going to wind up next to Laura Bennett! The thought infuriated her, and she wished more than anything that she’d shouted out her identity to her mother. Instead of that wicked Mr. Bennett.
Even now, sitting in this pocket-sized motel room, cigarette smoke slowly seeping through the cracks, she wanted to do something to change things, with or without the little satin gown. But she’d never get past that monster, Dylan Bennett. She knew better than to try. Might wind up in jail … or worse.
She’d wait for the package from Lydia Miller, wherever it was. With the baby gown—sewn by Laura herself—with that kind of proof in hand, she could walk right over the evil man. And no one and nothing could stop her!
After lunch, Natalie called the doctor, informing him of Mrs. Bennett’s persistent flare-ups, as well as her labored breathing.
He, too, recommended admission to the hospital. But her patient seemed completely confused, insisting that she must wait until her husband returned from the airport. That Dylan had important business in town—arranging a romantic cruise for the two of them.
Natalie wondered how long before she herself would have to make the call—decide for the sick woman that she be taken by ambulance to the hospital. Surely no more than a few hours at the most.
Mrs. Bennett continued to ramble incoherently, and on occasion even behaved with uncharacteristic irritability toward her caregivers. Yet Natalie offered nothing but kindness in return, nurturing her dying patient.
The instant the choking occurred, Natalie spun into action. Laura had been sipping cold juice through a straw when she began to cough and gasp for air. In seconds, her pale complexion had turned bluish.
Natalie knew all too well the dangers present, and as soon as the coughing subsided somewhat, she listened to Laura’s lungs with a stethoscope and heard crackling. A definite sign of aspiration pneumonia— a deadly complication she had been expecting.
By late afternoon, Laura had developed a temperature. Alarmed, Natalie knew the woman needed supportive IV therapy, and because she was having such difficulty swallowing, a feeding tube would also be necessary.
Natalie decided not to say a word to Mrs. Bennett. Instead, she took Rosie aside. “I’m going to need your help, as well as Garrett’s and Selig’s, when the ambulance arrives.”
“Ah, I hate for Mrs. Bennett to leave us this way,” the maid said in the tiniest voice. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”
“So had I.” Intent on maintaining her medical professionalism, Natalie did her best to hold back the tears.
“How long before … ?” Rosie shook her head, unable to finish.
“Hours, maybe a few days … if she’s lucky.”
Rosie blew her nose. “She’s ready to go, our Laura is. She knows where she’s headed after this life.”
“I don’t claim to share Mrs. Bennett’s beliefs,” said Natalie. “But if there is a heaven, it will be a better place when she gets there.”
“This house has been a better place because of her,” Rosie remarked, eyes glistening. “As for heaven—it’s always been glorious because Jesus is there.”
Natalie kept quiet. The maid could say what she wanted to about eternity. But as far as Natalie was concerned, the simple fact was she would miss her patient, and yes, she honestly hoped there was a heaven, for the sake of a fine Christian lady named Laura.
The sound of a siren rang in her ears, and before she could protest, she felt her body being lifted up and onto a wheeled cot.
She sensed they were taking her away—to a place where she did not want to go. These cruel people in white. These people who could breathe freely at will. Without worry that the next breath could be their last. For though she pulled hard, she found no air.
Where was Dylan? Why hadn’t he returned with their plane tickets? Their plans would be useless now. All their future hopes and dreams— Dylan’s and hers—dashed to pieces.…
Mary hitched up her father’s best horse and drove the carriage over to visit Ella Mae. But it was Mattie, her daughter, who came to the door of the Dawdi Haus, the small addition for aging relatives, connected to the main house.
“Oh, hullo. I guess I was expectin’ to see your mother,” she said, stepping back from the door.
“She’s sick in bed with the winter flu.”
Mary’s heart sank. She thought about going upstairs to speak to Ella Mae but figured there was no use risking her own health, not if the Wise Woman wasn’t able to help her out today anyway.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear she’s sick. But can ya tell her I stopped by?”
Mattie smiled. “Seems my mam’s second only to the bishop around here. Sure, I’ll tell her.”
Mary turned to go, hoping Ella Mae’s illness wouldn’t keep her down for too long. ’Cause she knew if Katie’s great-aunt couldn’t help her out—and soon—there’d be nobody else.
Nobody knew how to patch things up between people or give advice like the Wise Woman. You’d’ve thought she was hooked up with the Lord God Himself.
Seemed odd, really. When it came right down to it, Ella Mae Zook never actually preached if you went to see her about a problem.
No, sometimes—most of the time—she’d quietly quote a psalm or a proverb from the Bible. Or she’d just sit and listen to what you had to say. Didn’t even tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. But when you walked away from her little house, you’d most always feel like you knew the answer. Felt better for having gone to see her.
Thinking about all that, Mary realized the Wise Woman was a lot like herself—wanting to do what was right, yet not ever wanting to step on folks’ toes. And something else she’d learned from visiting Ella Mae—holding grudges weren’t gut for nobody. Made your heart fill up with blackness, crowding out the spaces for love.
“But some of us just ain’t never content with what the Almighty sends our way, t’ain’t so?” the Wise Woman had told her days before Katie was supposed to marry the bishop but didn’t.
Mary had agreed. Some of the People—folks like herself—were always wishing for more than their lot. ’Specially when it came to wanting a husband and a good, loving marriage.
Still, she wouldn’t give up on the bishop. Wouldn’t give up on a man who’d filled up quite a few of those heart spaces inside her, in spite of her friend Katie’s harsh shunning. In spite of all that.
She hurried home and told her mamma how sick Ella Mae was, hoping the old woman would shake off the flu bug in record time. Hmm. Maybe she could help the illness run its course a little sooner.
What would the Wise Woman th
ink if she showed up tomorrow with a batch of freshly stewed prunes?
Chapter Twenty-Five
More than a week had passed with no word from Hickory Hollow.
Katherine stewed and fretted, in a constant state of panic, wondering what to do next. She had found a part-time waitressing job at a fifties-style diner nearby and, in the early morning hours, created one frenzied or melancholy tune after another on her guitar. All in a sad minor key, notating each one, just the way Dan had shown her. This, she believed might keep her sane.
After dark, she’d hire a taxi and have the cabbie drive slowly past the Bennett estate, her eyes fixed on two large windows—the bedroom she knew to be Laura’s. Her thinking was that if light poured out from the windows, chances were her mother was still alive.
In addition to the nightly treks, she would dial up the Bennett mansion, disguising her voice, trying her best to get some word of her mother’s condition. But the estate operator never put her through to Rosie or Natalie. In fact, this voice was different from the one she’d heard when calling for the first time over two weeks ago.
There was so little time. Might be too late already.
Honestly, she’d just assumed that with Lydia Miller in charge of things at home—her being such a responsible woman—she would have managed to locate the tiny satin dress by now.
Katherine had no idea what was holding up the process, but she couldn’t sit by and wait any longer.
Lydia answered on the first ring and seemed relieved to hear Katherine’s voice on the other end of the line. “I thought of calling you, more times than not,” her cousin explained.
“Oh? Is there a problem?”
“I’m really sorry, but I’ve had no luck. And that’s not to say that I—we—haven’t tried.” And she went on to tell how Mary Stoltzfus had gone to see Rebecca, too. “Your mamma’s mighty attached to that baby dress. No one, not even Samuel, has been able to talk her into loaning it to you.”
“Not Dat, either?” She could hardly believe it. “So my father must know that I called you, then.”
“Yes. And he’s not the only one. Several others know now.” And Katherine listened as Lydia spelled out the latest holdup. “It’s Ella Mae, your great-aunt … she’s been sick with the flu for days.”
Feeling as though the whole idea was a lost cause, Katherine sighed into the phone. “Well, guess I should’ve been praying about all this before now.”
The voice on the other end was silent for a moment. “Peter and I are praying, Katie. We’re praying for you.”
Katherine almost corrected her, wanted to remind her that she wasn’t Katie anymore, but she let it go. “Well, since you’re talking to God about me, here’s something else you can tell Him. It’s about Laura Bennett—my natural mother. She’s awful sick, you know. And I can’t be sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s in the middle of some evil scheme. Can’t go into it, but there were some terrible, dreadful things going on while I was there.”
“And you’re not with her now?”
“No. But the minute Ella Mae’s well again and gets my old baby gown, soon as that happens, I’ll be on my way back to Laura. Then I’ll prove I’m Katherine Mayfield—I’ll march right in past her horrid husband and see her again. Oh, I want to know her, Lydia. Want to spend time talking with her before she dies.”
“Well, then, I’ll send the dress the minute I receive it,” promised her cousin.
Katherine wanted to believe Lydia, because all she had now was hope. Hope … and the bold English prayers of her mamma’s Mennonite cousin. Without any of that, she might’ve felt truly alone.
Dan hurried into the church where Owen and Eve met him in the foyer. “Slow down, you’re not late,” teased Eve.
He checked his watch. “Just wanted to get a good seat for the concert.”
The three of them settled into a pew near the middle of the sanctuary. The evening’s presentation was to feature both vocal and instrumental music.
During the first number—a female soloist accompanied by gentle guitar chords—he thought of Katie. This music, this harmonious music, filled him with joy … sadness, too. And he wrestled with troublesome doubts as he sat in the Mennonite church, knowing beyond all question how right his sweetheart girl had been for him, yet—even then—not wanting to influence her against the Old Ways. Still, thinking back, he knew he’d let things slip out. Things that haunted him to this day.
He wished he could apologize to Katie, confess to her, along with his father. But he would never do anything to threaten her present … or her future, by bringing up his past misdeeds. No sense in piling another mistake on top of all the others.
The jubilant hymn being performed spurred him on, giving him courage for the task ahead. His sister would’ve received his letter by now, he figured. And tomorrow he’d write the follow-up letter, asking Annie to round up some Amish clothing in preparation for his visit to Father.
How he longed to share his newfound joy—his Christian witness— with his father; his mother, too. Yet he suspected that Jacob Fisher, terrified by the consequences, would be obligated to report him to the bishop once Dan made it known that he’d been saved and had joined the Mennonites. The irony of it—and the renewed heartache his confession surely would cause—all of it, had discouraged him from making amends.
Now hearing the music—especially the guitar background— spoke peace to his soul. Tomorrow he’d follow through with his plan to mail a second letter to Annie. That way, at least he wouldn’t be accused of dampening Hickory Hollow’s holiday spirit. For that, he was thankful.
Come what may, his sister—his entire family—was soon to see him. Alive and well … face-to-face.
“Rebecca, someone’s here to see you,” Samuel called, leading Mary and Ella Mae into the front room.
Hoping that this visit might turn things around, Mary followed the Wise Woman through the kitchen.
“Well, hullo there, Rebecca,” said Ella Mae, touching the woman’s hand. “I’ve missed ya.”
Rebecca began nodding her head in a most curious way, and Mary felt a sting in her stomach, observing Katie’s mamma. So unlike the cheerful Rebecca Lapp she’d always known. Unlike anyone she’d ever known in Hickory Hollow.
“I hoped you’d be showing off that little baby dress ya made for Katie,” the Wise Woman began, her voice crackling like always. “Thought maybe we could try it on your baby today.”
Mary nearly dropped her teeth. What on earth was Ella Mae saying? Is that how Rebecca was thinking these days?
“Can’t find it no more,” said the daft woman. “Been a-lookin’ and can’t seem to find it.”
“I’ll help ya. Honest, I will,” said Ella Mae, reaching for Rebecca’s hand and leading her around the house. They looked like two young children playing a game of hide-’n-go-seek.
So while Ella Mae began to shape a story, one she might be telling to a group of women the way Rebecca often had, Mary sat and talked to Benjamin.
“Didja ever hear of an animal refusing his own name?” Ben asked her.
“You talkin’ about Satin Boy?”
“We call him Tobias now.”
“Oh … well, maybe that’s why he doesn’t come,” she said. “Ya know how … well … could be that’s the reason he’s not respondin’ to ya. Try calling him by the name she gave him.”
Ben shook his head, chuckling softly. “Himmel, what trouble that girl’s caused … even the animals don’t know which end’s up.”
She let him finish jabbering on about the pony. Then when he was quiet for a bit, she spoke up. “I was wonderin’ what ya might think of something, Ben.”
“Think of what?” His thick blond hair lay flat against an oily scalp, showing the ring mark where his winter hat had sat on his head.
“I’ve been thinking about talking to the bishop.”
“What for?”
“Oh, I just a wanna ask him some questions … about the shunning. Do ya think he’d s
hun me, too, for talking to him about it?”
Ben laughed. “Doubt it. ’Cause everyone’s a-thinkin’ you may be his next wife, Mary.”
She gulped hard and tried to cover it up by coughing, leaning off to the side of her chair. “The bishop … and me? Married?”
“And why not?” he said. “Don’tcha think it’s a gut match?”
Secretly, she was elated. But, of course, she’d be keepin’ those kinds of thoughts to herself. Deep inside, where no one could guess how she felt about Bishop John Beiler. Or so she’d thought.
When Ella Mae came downstairs, she came alone. “Rebecca’s havin’ herself a nap.” She pointed toward the ceiling. “ ’Speck we best be goin’.”
Mary hopped up and went to get their coats. “Didja get it?” she whispered, helping the Wise Woman into her wrap.
“Is the bishop standhaft … unyielding?” replied Ella Mae, wearing a crooked smile. Then out from the old woman’s basket came something shiny and pink.
“Is that it? Is that the baby dress … uh … her real mamma made for her?” Mary couldn’t bring herself to speak Katie’s name right out loud, but she could think it!
Ella Mae looked Mary straight in the eye. “Never you forget it, honey girl. The real mamma’s right upstairs.”
Even though she tried repeatedly on the ride home, Mary never could pull it out of the Wise Woman how she’d got ahold of the baby garment. Jah, she tried asking many different ways, even though she felt it wasn’t the right thing to do at all—trying to trick someone into telling you something against their will.
By the time they arrived at Peter and Lydia Miller’s house, though, she didn’t much care anymore how Katie’s infant gown had ended up in Ella Mae’s basket of sewing and stitchery. The main thing was, this being Saturday, Katie’d have it by Monday morning.
“Before noon, guaranteed,” Lydia informed her after she’d run up the front porch steps and delivered the dress.
The Confession Page 20