Jenny could hear the beating of her own heart. That small, fragile sound made her wish for peaceful Lancaster County more than ever. Heaven on earth, she thought, counting the days until she could finally move.
She watched the moon rise and settle into the trees beyond her living room window while the familiar question persisted: Can I really do this?
Suddenly, Jenny remembered what Marnie Lapp had penned in a recent letter: My dear friend, there’s only one way to find out!
Chapter 2
That’s right, Hickory Hollow,” Jenny Burns repeated for the cab driver outside the Lancaster train station. The short, balding cabbie looked completely baffled, so she opened her purse and located the house address on Hickory Lane.
Tired from the long trip, Jenny recalled the cell phone joke her brother had made two weeks ago at her birthday party. Surely the cab driver had a smartphone, or at the very least, a GPS. He shuffled to the trunk of the cab and opened it, then thwomped her large suitcase inside. He glanced at her as if to say, “Whatcha got in there, Missy? An elephant?” Then he closed the trunk and waved her toward the backseat. “I’m sure if it’s in the area, we’ll find it.”
Carrying her purse and smaller bag, Jenny slipped inside the cab. She could have happily described the golden vale of a place—the fertile, sheltered hollow bounded on the north by the Old Philadelphia Pike and on the south by the Lincoln Highway.
Jenny buckled up and realized she’d only visited here in summertime. Presently, the air was swollen with the scent of sun-drenched autumn and, unmistakably, manure. “It must be harvesttime,” she murmured.
“Excuse me?” the cabbie said.
“Uh, nothing.”
“Ah, here we are.” The cabbie pointed to the small screen on his dash. “You were right. That’s Hickory Lane, over there to the east.”
Soon they were off, heading toward Bird-in-Hand. Along the way, they encountered a number of gray horse-drawn, boxlike buggies, with two carrying young children who peered out the back. One young girl squinted at them, her eyes smiling when the cab passed the carriage on the left. The little girl’s white cap was tilted askew on her head.
“Welcome to Amishland,” the cabbie grumbled. He shook his head with something close to disgust. “I don’t get it, and I never will.”
“I think theirs is a noble way of life,” Jenny said, surprised by his attitude and feeling defensive.
“Are you kidding? Can you imagine living Amish? I mean, seriously.”
“It works for them,” she replied. “Has for more than three hundred years.”
He muttered something. Then he said more audibly, “I know an Amish fellow who got fed up with the church and left.” He looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Know why?”
Miffed, she merely shook her head.
Mr. Cabbie tapped his forehead. “Told me he wasn’t permitted to think for himself.”
Some fit in and some don’t, she thought.
“He wanted a high school education—a no-no for Amish. When he left, he got his GED and went on to college. Wanted to be a lawyer, I guess. An odd career for an Amishman.”
“Well, this country could use some honest attorneys.” She smiled at herself.
“Last I heard, he had a nice big house over near Eden—opposite direction from where we’re headed.” The cabbie nodded his head. “This fellow just wasn’t cut out to be Plain.” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Know much about the Amish?” he asked.
“I’ve met a few Plain women . . . bought tomatoes and cukes at their roadside stands.”
The highway narrowed as they headed through Smoketown, then entered Bird-in-Hand proper, past the Old Village Store on the left and the farmers market on the right.
“All I know is that they make my job harder, clogging up the roads,” he said. “Why they don’t just get cars, I’ll never understand.”
“How much farther?” Jenny was ready to end the stream of criticism.
“Not too far. By the looks of it, Hickory Hollow’s east of Intercourse Village.”
She made herself relax. Thankfully, the cabbie was less keen on chattering now. Jenny enjoyed the sun’s warmth as she watched the landscape whiz past, thinking ahead to riding in a horse-drawn carriage with Marnie. She was captivated by the eight-mule teams and the Amishmen working the fields, sporting straw hats, their suspenders crisscrossed against dark blue, green, or gray shirts.
Like in the books I’ve read . . .
From what Marnie Lapp had said, her aunt Rebecca was the ideal person to mentor Jenny, at least until she found her own place. “You’ll like her,” Marnie had predicted in the last letter. “For sure and for certain.”
Jenny’s own resolve still surprised her, particularly the sale of her car a few days ago, after having already sold most of her household possessions and dispensable personal effects at area consignment stores following her birthday. She only regretted not being more specific with her parents, especially her mother, although as it turned out, her mother seemed as distracted as her father, most likely finalizing her latest gala. Mom had looked up from her list, her mind seemingly miles away. “Where are you going again?”
Jenny had hesitated. “I’ll get in touch once I’m there.”
Mom’s frown was inscribed on Jenny’s memory; she could see the confused expression even now. “Well . . . whatever you think is best, dear.” She paused, fixing Jenny with a look of concern. “Is everything okay?”
Jenny opened her mouth, wondering if she shouldn’t just come clean, but before she could answer, her mother suddenly remembered something and reached for her cell phone, raising her finger. “Hold that thought.”
It occurred to her not for the first time that it might be weeks before her mother even realized she was gone.
Kiersten had been indifferent, more concerned with Jenny’s supposed snub of Frank, her husband’s “really wonderful associate”—she’d seemed more anxious than usual to get off the phone. And Cameron had just assumed Jenny was taking an extended vacation. “Must be nice . . .”
And while she’d tried to tell him it wasn’t that at all, Jenny believed in her heart that saying anything more would be a mistake. They would just try to talk her out of moving to Amish farmland, abandoning the materialistic English world. Their beautiful world.
When the cab made the right turn onto Cattail Road, Jenny’s skin prickled, and she wondered how close the Lapp farmhouse might be. She saw what looked like a waterwheel near a creek. For an instant, she wished for her camera, but she’d sold that, too.
Leaning back again, she remembered working on a little lap quilt as a young teen while her sister played video games with their brother and neighborhood friends. I was passionate about simple things while everyone else was into high tech.
She thought of various fancy things she could have brought along—makeup, for one. And toiletries. But those weren’t for a dedicated Amishwoman, as she intended to be. She’d walked out on her lipstick, her jewelry, most of her clothes, even her books.
It’s time to live. Forget the stuff.
Just that quick, it occurred to her that Marnie might have forgotten to set things in place. Her emotions imploded. Surely not! Arranging things with the Lapps was vital—there was no backup plan. Oh, why was she thinking this way? If she couldn’t trust Marnie to follow through, whom could she trust? And given Marnie’s excitement . . .
Despite that, corresponding by letter about the arrangement now seemed terribly risky. Why hadn’t Jenny gotten confirmation before she jumped?
Her heart pounded as she considered again the major changes ahead—changes that she was willing to make. For the rest of my life . . . if the People will have me.
She forced her gaze toward the heavens. Lord, if you’ve put this desire in my heart, then here I am.
Besides Jenny’s strong feeling about all this, Marnie had nearly promised that her aunt Rebecca was the key to Jenny’s pursuit. The Amish life lived under th
e watchful care of Samuel and Rebecca Lapp would lead Jenny aright, solve her lifelong desire. In every way, she was coming home.
Chapter 3
Rebecca Lapp lingered in Ella Mae Zook’s snug kitchen longer than usual early that afternoon. During the past few days, she’d observed a perceptible change in her elderly friend, and Rebecca hadn’t been the only one to notice. Indeed, Ella Mae still held her slight shoulders straight and smiled most readily, so there wasn’t anything physical that Rebecca could credit this feeling to. But there was something.
Standing near the back door, Rebecca knew she should head across the field in case her niece’s English friend arrived early. “I’d be happy to bring supper over later,” Rebecca offered, resting both hands on the back of the wooden kitchen chair. “You just say the word.”
Ella Mae smiled. Her middle part appeared wider and her hair whiter in the streaming light from the window. “Ach, ya musn’t baby me, hear? Ain’t nothin’ wrong that some hot peppermint tea can’t cure.”
“You sure, now?”
“Go on, Rebecca dear. Time to greet the young seeker-woman. She’ll need all the encouragement you can give her.” Ella Mae pressed her crinkled hand to her high forehead. “What’s her name again?”
“Jennifer Burns, but I’m told she goes by Jenny.”
“A nice enough name.” Ella Mae looked out the window, her cane hooked on her scrawny arm.
“Well, the name’s not the point,” Rebecca added good-naturedly. “What matters is what she’s made of.”
“Mm-hmm,” Ella Mae agreed. “Ain’t many fancy folk who fit in with us, ya know.”
Ella Mae had always been one to cling to her own strong opinions, even when most folk would have stood down—Samuel had once said as much years ago, when Ella Mae was causing a stink with the deacon at the time. But Ella Mae had never suppressed her view on things when it came to speaking up for what was right. At least what was right and good in her eyes, which meant she didn’t always line up with the Ordnung or the bishop, either. Yet the usually stern Bishop Beiler let her be—she was too old to be put off church.
Rebecca looked away and spotted a drawing of a carved pumpkin on the refrigerator, doubtless the work of one of Ella Mae’s many great-great-grandchildren. The pumpkin’s smile had one tooth showing on top and two on the bottom, all staggered perfectly. She was a bit surprised Ella Mae kept it up, knowing how the older woman felt about anything to do with Halloween.
“It’s not what ya think,” Ella Mae said, breaking the quiet.
Rebecca blinked. “The jack-o’-lantern?” She returned her gaze to the fragile woman sitting at the table.
“Ach, no, for pity’s sake.”
“What, then?”
“The reason I’m so tetchy.” Ella Mae pointed to the chair across from her, and Rebecca pulled it out and sat down. “I hate to say anything, but when I heard what Marnie was up to, getting you and Samuel involved, well . . .”
“Marnie talked to you?”
“Twice already.”
“Ah . . . you must be worried ’bout us opening our home to a stranger.”
Ella Mae fixed her eyes on Rebecca. “That ain’t the half of it.”
Things always went more smoothly when Ella Mae’s side of the conversation was permitted to trickle out without interruption. So Rebecca waited, quite aware of her friend’s crumpled brow. Deep concern was embedded there.
“Think of it, Rebecca. The woman’s a worldly outsider. Have ya thought of getting some instruction on this from the ministers? A seeker sure ain’t something we hear of every day.”
“Samuel and Bishop John put their heads together a couple days ago, so that’s taken care of, I daresay.”
Ella Mae stared at her fingers. “I’m surprised that Samuel agreed.”
Rebecca cleared her throat.
“Did he, Rebecca?”
“Not at first, nee.”
“And now?”
“He’s warming up to it; that’s all I best say.”
“Well, then, ’tis better . . . I s’pose.”
“We’ll just have to rest in that.”
Ella Mae nodded slowly, her frown still evident. “I think ya could be askin’ for trouble.”
“Are you wondering ’bout her Proving? All the time it might take?”
“For certain.” Ella Mae paused, shifting her weight in the chair. “And she’s unmarried, ain’t?”
“Far as I know.” Rebecca looked right at her. “So then, you must think she’s comin’ here out of curiosity.”
“Maybe. Or could be she wants to find herself a Plain husband.”
Rebecca sighed. “Well, yes, I’d assume so if she wants to be Amish herself. But I really don’t think marriage is her first priority.”
“Well, aren’t most seekers married couples with young children searching for a different lifestyle, lookin’ to be set apart from the modern world?” Ella Mae leaned hard on the table, her face suddenly all washed out.
Rebecca nodded, mindful of her friend’s serious expression. “Jah. Sometimes they’re a-hankerin’ for a church that meets their standards. Or they want their children to experience working the soil, raising their own crops—like the Englischer pioneers did, ya know.” Rebecca smoothed out the placemat. “And some single men come seeking, too . . . wantin’ wives to cook and keep house. Something, I guess, that’s not very common anymore in the English world.”
“But a single woman arranging to come here on her own? It’s mighty suspect, I’ll say,” Ella Mae said. “I wonder what her family thinks of it.”
“Well, just maybe her motives are untainted. After all, Marnie would surely know, since they’ve been exchanging letters for a number of years.”
Ella Mae gave an odd little half smile and shook her head. “You’ll be the first to know where her heart is, Rebecca. Just think on that.”
Rebecca felt the weight of it. “You want me to watch for certain signs, is that it?”
“All I’m sayin’ is keep your eyes and ears open.” Ella Mae reached across to tap Rebecca’s hand with her own. “The Good Lord may indeed have entrusted this seeker to you and Samuel. That’s where it all starts—in the soul of a person.”
“I can only guide her as far as she is teachable . . . or pliable.”
“And I can tell ya one thing: She won’t be as tenderhearted toward the church as our own young ones, growin’ up in the ways of the Lord God.” Ella Mae paused, her small blue eyes seeking out Rebecca’s. “Any idea ’bout this Jenny’s upbringing?”
“Only what Marnie says. Evidently she was taken to church as a child by her aunt and uncle for a few years, but her parents stepped in and decided she’d had enough religion.”
“Might be, then, that she’ll have a lot of catchin’ up to do.”
“I’d guess she will, although Marnie indicated she’d found a small church she enjoyed attending on her own after leavin’ home.”
“Regardless of how it turns out, you’ve got your work cut out for ya, Rebecca. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes. I ’spect she’ll last a month, maybe two.”
The Wise Woman was probably right. It wouldn’t do to get too fond of the young woman, the way Marnie had.
Ella Mae insisted on serving more peppermint tea with raw honey before Rebecca was free to go. And all the while, Rebecca mulled the Old Wise Woman’s words. Had God truly handpicked her and Samuel to look after young Jenny Burns’s heart?
Rebecca inhaled and raised her shoulders, not sure she was up to such a task. That was a parent’s calling, as she knew quite well. And she’d failed dreadfully with Katie, her only daughter.
Why’d the Good Lord choose me?
“Looks like it’s one of the next big farmhouses on this side of the road,” the cabbie announced, looking over his shoulder at Jenny. “Wait a minute. You’re not coming here to stay with the Amish, are you?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
He scratched the side of his head. “Well
, I’ll be!”
She inhaled slowly. “I plan to join the church if they’ll have me.”
He spun around to crane his neck at her. “You cannot be serious.”
“Actually, I am.”
He looked back to the road and reached up to rub the round circle of pink flesh on top of his head. “But why?”
She felt no obligation to share her reasons. “I just am.”
“Well, you’re in for some mighty hard labor. From sunup to sundown is what I heard.”
She looked out the window. I’m not afraid of hard work.
Just then, they turned into Samuel Lapp’s lane. She spotted the name on the large mailbox out front.
“Welcome to your new life.”
“Thanks,” she said, opening her purse to pay him.
He took the money and counted it carefully. “I wish you the best—you’re going to need it.”
She disregarded his comment and gave him a smile. “Have a pleasant afternoon.”
He nodded quickly and got out to open the trunk and set the oversized suitcase on the ground. He pulled out a card from his trousers and pointed to the phone number. “In case things don’t work out, here’s your ticket out of Plainville . . . back to the real world. Of course, there aren’t any phones, so you’ll have to find a neighbor to—”
“Thanks again,” Jenny interrupted, relieved to have arrived at the Lapps’. She waved away his business card. Why would I possibly need it?
Chapter 4
Rebecca observed the Englischer’s hefty suitcase as the slender young woman pulled it behind her, coming up the lane toward the house. She looked like she was planning to stay a good long time, just as Marnie had said. The seeker’s abundantly thick hair was a lovely auburn hue, similar to Katie’s—radiant as the sun’s golden beams caught it.
Dear Gott in heaven . . . It took her breath away.
Rebecca remembered walking up this long driveway to the house as a young bride. Now it was as if a part of her were walking it again. Ever so starry-eyed . . . like this dear girl, she thought.
The Secret Keeper Page 2