The Confession

by Beverly Lewis

  “Hope this makes her happy,” Mary remarked, not meaning it sarcastically, though it might’ve sounded that way.

  “Oh, she’ll be mighty happy, all right,” said Lydia, grinning broader than Mary’d ever seen her.

  Then the smile faded and Lydia folded her hands as if in prayer. “You must ask the Lord to protect your friend. She’s off by herself in a motel room somewhere. But … something tells me … that’s not her biggest worry.…”

  Of course, Mary had to know what on earth Lydia meant by that, and the two women whispered their confidential chatter until Mary had to rush off and get the Wise Woman home to a warm fire and some piping hot coffee.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  On Monday, January fifth—before noon—Katherine received a UPS delivery. Heart pounding, she studied the package the man had brought her, recognizing Lydia’s handwriting immediately.

  Tearing open the parcel, she found the rose-colored baby gown wrapped in tissue paper. “Oh,” she whispered, and hugged the tiny garment to her cheek, remembering with absolute clarity the first time she’d ever laid eyes on the shimmering fabric.

  She sat in silence, struggling not to cry lest she stain the little dress. Then, remembering that, before ever leaving Hickory Hollow, she’d once found a single mark on the garment. Believing it to be her mamma’s teardrop—she searched for it. Finding it, she wept.

  After a time, she called a cab. Staring at the name embroidered on the facing, she ran her fingers across it, feeling the stitching, still intact after these many years. Rewrapping the dress, she bundled up and waited for her ride—the short ride back to her mother’s estate. As she waited she prayed, in German, that the Lord God heavenly Father might keep Laura Bennett alive, at least for a few more hours. That He’d protect her from the wrath of Dylan Bennett, as well.

  Katherine asked the cab driver to drop her off around the east side of the estate, closest to the servants’ entrance. That way she could slip past anyone who might try to detain—or arrest—her, so strong was her need to see her mother, to reveal the truth to the person it mattered to most.

  Bold with determination, Katherine crept through the outside doorway, checking to see if anyone was near, then hiding in the first room she came to—a spacious storage closet. Inside, she paused, listening, straining to hear the slightest sound. Perhaps Garrett or Selig. Anyone.

  When it seemed the corridor was clear of servants, at least, she opened the door, moved quietly into the hallway, and tiptoed down past the grand staircase, toward the south wing—her mother’s quarters.

  Once again, she stood to the side of the tall French doors, peering around them to see into the sitting room. Odd, she thought. No one was there. Not even Natalie Judah, the live-in nurse.

  Suddenly frantic with worry, she rushed past the love seat and comfortable chairs arranged near the fireplace, past the cherry sofa where tiny matching Christmas trees had brought gaiety to the room.

  She was standing in her mother’s private bedroom now, her heart in her throat. There the bed had been stripped bare of all coverings and sheets.

  “Rosie?” she called. “Nurse Judah?”

  There was no answer, so she called the louder.

  Still no reply. Even Mr. Bennett’s presence might’ve been welcomed at this moment. Yet there was no one.

  Seized with a choking terror, Katherine dropped to her knees beside the empty bed and began to cry out to God in English, abandoning her familiar German rote prayers, praying for the first time the way Peter Miller had taught her to.

  “Oh, dear Lord Jesus, please, please don’t let my mother be dead. Please …”

  She heard the scuffle of feet and turned to see Theodore Williams coming into the sitting room.

  “Katherine?” he called to her.

  “Oh, Mr. Williams, where’s my mother?”

  The old gentleman’s face went ashen and he muttered something under his breath.

  “My mother … Laura … is she dead?”

  Afraid, so afraid, of his response, she looked down at the UPS mailer—knowing what wondrous thing she’d hidden there—and she cried. She cried so hard that Mr. Williams came over and offered her his own handkerchief.

  Samuel had his hands full taking care of his wife. Sitting next to her, talking softly to her, watching her writhe in their bed, he figured he must’ve been out of his mind to let Ella Mae come and take the one and only thing Rebecca had cherished so.

  Now his dear spouse could speak of nothing but Katie’s baby garment. Yet she had it no longer. Without the fancy dress to hold, to stroke, to whisper to, her world seemed to have fallen near apart.

  He didn’t know what on earth to do about it, ’cept summon the bishop. Maybe if John Beiler could see what his pompous ruling had done to Rebecca, maybe then he’d see the error of his standhaft ways. The unbending ways of the Old Order.

  The minute he began to reflect on these defiant thoughts, though, he was filled with remorse. Still, he wondered if it might not do the community some good knowin’ what the shunning had done to the wife of Samuel Lapp.

  He’d see to it personally. Katherine—Miss Katherine, it was now— would be driven safely to the hospital. “Mrs. Bennett’s life hangs by a thread,” Theodore told her as they headed for the limousine. “The doctors don’t give her much longer.”

  The young woman wiped her tears and, of all things, insisted on riding in the front seat opposite him. The next thing he knew, she was showing him an exquisite baby gown.

  “This is the dress I wore on the day Laura gave me away,” she said. “See the name embroidered in the back?”

  He glanced over to consider what looked like tiny stitches forming the name Katherine Mayfield.

  “It appears that our missus was most creative, even as a teenager,” he commented. Then he broke the news delicately to the young woman. “Not long after you left, your mother discovered the truth about that woman parading around as Amish. Katie Lapp, or whoever she was, has left town … and so has Mr. Bennett.”

  Katherine frowned. “He has? When?”

  “Days ago, and no one has heard from him since.”

  “I wonder why,” Katherine said. “Wouldn’t he want to stay around … until …” She choked back tears.

  Poor girl. How could he tell her? Drawing a deep breath, he began. “There is strong evidence to indicate that the man was … in cahoots with one of his partners, as well as the New York model-turned-actress. Evidently, they’d planned to swindle your mother out of the estate … and possibly more.”

  “How awful evil.” Katherine tucked the baby dress back into the tissue paper.

  “Yes, and we’re still trying to piece things together. Thankfully, the estate will not fall into the wrong hands upon Mrs. Bennett’s death.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He realized he’d already said more than was prudent. “I believe it is Mrs. Bennett’s place to discuss her affairs … at the proper time.”

  And that was all he would say.

  Because she was Laura Bennett’s only living relative and had merely to say so to the head nurse—without even showing her the baby dress, none of that—Katherine was told she could see her mother for fifteen minutes at a time, every hour on the hour.

  The initial visit was most painful. Katherine tiptoed into the private hospital room, holding her breath as she saw before her a woman wired up with tubes going every which way. Clear oxygen tubes in her nose and intravenous therapy connected to the veins in her arms, one of the nurses was kind enough to explain.

  Katherine clutched the UPS parcel and willed herself not to faint. Truth be told, the sight frightened her no end, made her weak, as if she might need to sit down.

  And she did. Sat there on a chair beside the bed and stared at the woman who’d given birth to her nearly twenty-three years before.

  At one point, Laura’s eyelids fluttered, and Katherine stood up slowly. But she stepped back a bit, hoping her mother might be able to f
ocus her eyes on her, for the nurse had explained that Laura’s vision was severely impaired.

  “Mother? It’s Katherine, and no, you aren’t dreaming. I really am here.”

  Laura’s eyes closed quickly, and Katherine couldn’t blame her for that—so viciously had her dear mother been duped.

  She crept over to the side of the bed. Standing there, patiently waiting for Laura to give her a second chance, she pulled out the satin baby gown.

  When her mother did not respond after a time, Katherine reached down and placed the little dress under Laura’s right hand, her fingertips resting lightly on the folds of the garment.

  “This is the dress you made for your baby girl,” she whispered. “My Amish mamma—Rebecca Lapp—saved it all these years. There’s some lovely embroidery stitched in the back facing. Do you remember sewing my name there?”

  She stopped talking and waited. What she saw broke her heart— and began to heal it—all at the same time.

  Big tears rolled down either side of the pallid face. “Katherine,” she heard her mother whisper. “Oh, Katherine. You’re here at last.”

  She didn’t want to hurt the dear lady or disturb any of the numerous tubes going in and out of her body. Oh, but she wanted to be near her. Hug her—not hard—just embrace a part of her.

  Two thin hands came together, slowly grasping the satin baby gown. It was then that Katherine leaned over and kissed the hand nearest her, letting the tears flow freely.

  “I’ve missed you all my life,” she managed to say. “I’ve never been truly Amish, not through and through.” Then, so as not to tire her mother unduly, she picked the choicest portions of her life to talk about. Things like her cravings for beautiful music and fine, fancy clothing, jewelry, and different types of hairstyles. She told about the letter Laura had written to Rebecca, Katherine’s adoptive mother, and how it had gotten burned up before she’d ever laid eyes on it. About living in Hickory Hollow, always wondering what she might be missing out in the world.

  Sometime before the nurse came in to let her know fifteen minutes was up, sometime right before then, Katherine told her mother about the boy with blueberry eyes. Her one and only true love, Daniel Fisher.

  “What … a wonderful boy,” her mother said. “I wish he were … still here.”

  “All of us—all the People—were sorry, too. It was the most dreadful time of our lives.” She said it without holding back her love feelings for Dan, so free she felt with this woman. This mother. And hoping her first mamma might forgive her. Someday.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Two days later, Laura was still alive and wearing thick glasses so she could see Katherine more clearly. The new lenses had given her spirits a tremendous boost. Furthermore, she’d felt a quickening in her, a most unusual feeling. She was convinced she was getting better. And she told her daughter so … the nurses, too.

  She’d felt something similar upon first meeting that vile impostor of a woman, and she’d heard that such occurrences had a tendency to induce a kind of remission sometimes. She could only hope this one might last, though, that she might beat this disease, once and for all.

  But she was bright enough to know she mustn’t put her trust in physical improvements alone, not when it was her emotional health that had seen the biggest lift. Her daughter had come home. The girl had moved heaven and earth, as she’d put it, to search for Laura. And what things she longed to share with her. Fifteen minutes here and there during the course of a day simply wasn’t enough.

  When Natalie Judah—who was no longer responsible for her care—came for a quick visit, Laura implored her to get the hospital visiting rule lifted.

  “I’d love to do that for you, Mrs. Bennett, but I believe it would be futile to try,” the nurse said.

  “Please, see if someone will listen to you,” Katherine pleaded. Then when Natalie had left to do whatever she could, Laura’s daughter told her something her friend Mary Stoltzfus had always said, growing up in Hickory Hollow. “Ya never get if ya don’t ask.”

  When Laura asked her to repeat it in Dutch, Katherine laughed and obliged her, putting on the thickest German accent she’d ever heard. But she loved it, every minute spent with her adorable Katherine.

  Not long after, Natalie returned, sporting a broad smile. “I guess I should’ve pleaded your case before this. The hospital has consented to give you unlimited time together—the two of you. That is, if Mrs. Bennett agrees to rest periodically.”

  Because of the new glasses, Laura noticed happily that Katherine appeared as delighted as she.

  The drive to Lancaster seemed much longer than Dan had remembered, even without a horse and buggy. It may have only seemed long because of the many boyhood landmarks along the way, especially once he made the turn off Highway 340.

  The closer he came to Hickory Lane, the more he found himself slowing down to savor the rolling hills, the tall, tall trees, the way the sun played on blanketed white fields. Even in the dead of winter, this part of Pennsylvania was rich with beauty. And the memories … how they beat a path to his brain.

  Fighting off the impulse to drive past the Lapps’ red sandstone house—see for himself if Katie still lived there—he turned onto a narrow road, leading to Weaver’s Creek. It was here that he and Katie had written a love song together while sitting on a boulder. They’d watched the creek ripple past them that day, and he’d tried to tell her of his doubtings, his questionings about the Amish church. He had tried, but the only thing he could even begin to say, really, was that no matter what happened, no matter if he got himself shunned, he’d still always love his Katie.

  Of course, if his recollections were true, about the only thing he did do that day, at least when it came to declaring his love, was kiss her. Again and again. Till she had to wriggle free from his arms and take him on a walk toward the bridge and the creek below.

  There, perched on a boulder in the middle of the stream, he had pulled out some folded staff paper and a pencil from his pocket and shown Katie how to notate music for the first time.

  The music.… How he’d always longed to share it as a gift to his People, to his precious Katie, so full of melodies and lovely lyrics herself.

  Yet the Ordnung forbade it.

  Over the years, prayer and fasting had brought him to his knees in holy communion with his Lord and Savior. But it was the music and spiritual worship within the church walls, like a balm of Gilead, that had soothed his splintered soul.

  He wondered how Katie had ever survived without it, for he questioned whether anyone might’ve come along to fill his disobedient shoes in that regard. Who else would’ve offered her the same sort of bonding—the love of music they’d shared so intensely? Still, it was sin, according to the Amish church. And for her sake, he rather hoped she hadn’t pursued that particular interest, especially if she wanted to remain in good standing with the People of Hickory Hollow.

  Checking his watch, he realized the appointed hour was upon him. For in his second letter to Annie, he’d asked her to meet him near the old one-room schoolhouse, knowing it would be vacated well before four in the afternoon. It was the perfect place for him to change into Amish clothing, too, and he hoped she wouldn’t disappoint him in this.

  Annie was right on time, and he waited in his car for a bit before getting out, allowing her to pull the carriage into the school lane.

  Spying each other at almost the same instant, they literally ran into each other’s arms, laughing and crying. “Daniel!” sobbed his sister. “I can’t believe it’s really you.” And she pulled back to look him over. “You’re so tall, ach, you’re a grown man, ain’tcha?”

  He picked her up then and twirled her around. “I’ve missed you, Annie!” he shouted into the frosty air.

  Holding hands, they ran together toward the Amish school, letting themselves inside. “I didn’t know what on earth to think when I got your first letter,” Annie began. “I thought it was some kind of horrid joke at first. But then,
before long, I knew it was you.” Her voice grew softer. “By reading it over and over again, I knew.”

  She was full of questions, so many it made his head spin. But what she wanted to know more than anything was the truth of what had happened in Atlantic City five years ago.

  He pulled in a deep breath, then began, praying she’d understand, could forgive him. “I ran away on my birthday, angry at Dat,” he explained. “It started out to be an innocent outing—a sailing expedition, all by myself.”

  “Just you, alone?”

  Dan took it more slowly, gave her a moment to digest his news. “I needed time to think … to think where my life was headed. So much of what I knew about religion and God had been passed down to me from our parents—their parents before them. I know you may have trouble with this, but I needed something in writing, something I could read for myself. For another thing, I wanted to be sure I was saved, so … I was secretly studying, even memorizing parts of the Bible.”

  “You were?” The light left her eyes.

  “I wanted to spare you, Annie. Wanted to protect you and the rest of the family from thinking I was sinning.” He didn’t go on to tell her that he’d had the same reason for shielding Katie Lapp, as well.

  Continuing with his story, he recalled the unexpected storm. “A severe one … I was knocked overboard. Almost drowned swimming to shore.”

  Dan told the truth, all of it. In the end, there had been ample opportunity to explore a faith to stand on—not one built on tradition or man-made rules. Now for him, he told Annie, the Ordnung had long since been replaced by the Word of God. Many long hours of personal Bible study and fellowship with other Christians had convinced him, had served to boost his confidence and faith in the Almighty.

  “Ach, I don’t know what to say,” Annie spoke in a near whisper.

  “I don’t expect you to understand, Annie, or forgive me—neither one, for that matter.” He shrugged sadly. “I was a foolish nineteen-year-old boy, terribly immature. But I’ve come home to repent.”