The Secret Keeper

by Beverly Lewis

  “I’m confused, dear. And I wonder if you’re not equally so.”

  Jenny’s frustration was mounting. “I told my mother I’d contact her in a few weeks.”

  “Yet you didn’t tell her where you are or what you’re doing.” Rebecca’s face drooped as though with sadness. “This is so peculiar to me.”

  Jenny sat up taller in the wagon. “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re certainly right.”

  A lengthy and embarrassing pause followed. Then quietly, slowly, Jenny tried to explain. “My family is nothing like yours, Rebecca. I’ve never felt like I fit in with my parents or sister and brother.”

  “Never felt like it, or just never did?”

  “Both, I guess.”

  Rebecca reached over and patted her knee like Jenny was a child. “I don’t mean to question. I just wonder if your Mamm wouldn’t rather know where you are.”

  Jenny stared at the road, seeing the grooves on the other side, where carriage wheels had worn down the pavement. Rebecca had no idea how aloof her family was. She sighed. “Do you think I can make it through the Proving?”

  “Considering what you’ve told me, I’d be hesitant to say.”

  “You mean because I haven’t been forthcoming with my family?”

  Rebecca smiled faintly. “The truth is always best, no matter what a stir it might cause.”

  “I believe that, too. I even meant to tell them, but . . .” Jenny mentally kicked herself. She’d known all along what she should have done.

  I just didn’t do it.

  Chapter 12

  Rebecca and Jenny stopped first at the home of Preacher Ephraim Yoder and his wife, Lovina, where Rebecca introduced Jenny to the reserved older couple before dropping off two pumpkins. Jenny was astonished at the length of the minister’s tapered brown beard, speckled with gray. But despite his bristly brows, his deep-set eyes smiled a convincing welcome, and she believed he was a kind and gentle man. Lovina only eyed her at first, warming up more slowly before eventually offering chocolate chip cookies and hot coffee. Jenny was happy to sit at their table and nibble on the snack and sip the black coffee. But she wondered if they viewed her as a distraction since they were required to speak English in her presence. I won’t take it personally, she thought as she noticed the Scripture wall calendar nearby. They’ll grow to trust me . . . to know me.

  The Lapps’ driving horse, a black mare named Star, reared her beautiful head as they got back into the wagon. And when Rebecca reached for the reins and the horse began to move forward, Jenny noticed how very taut the reins were.

  This horse is raring to go! Would she ever be able to control such a spirited animal?

  Soon, they were coming up on Nate and Rhoda Kurtz’s farmhouse, the Lapps’ neighbors to the south of their cornfield. Rhoda Kurtz was nearly as welcoming as Lovina had been, but still somewhat guarded, with only an occasional forced smile. Nate Kurtz, on the other hand, scarcely acknowledged Jenny, saying nothing at all.

  When they returned to the wagon, Rebecca explained that was Nate’s reticent way. “Don’t feel bad. Some folk are nearly tongue-tied around Englischers, ’specially here in our little neck of the woods.”

  “Who can blame them?”

  “And there are a number of farmers who basically speak with their eyes and hands. Guess they don’t feel it necessary to talk much.”

  “My father’s a little like that,” Jenny said. “When he does speak, it’s mostly about things no one else really comprehends or cares to discuss.”

  “Well, I feel for ya, then.” Rebecca went on to say her husband was nothing like that—“quite the opposite. But there’s no guessin’ where Samuel stands on any issue.”

  “He was real quiet at supper yesterday.”

  “Oh, you just wait till he gets to know ya. He’ll nearly talk your ear off.”

  Jenny wondered how long it would be before that might happen. Samuel Lapp wasn’t just cautious; he was opposed to her being there. Of that, Jenny was almost certain.

  In a few minutes, they made another delivery, this time to Samuel’s brother’s farmhouse, where they were met at the door by a young blond woman. “We’ve got more pumpkins than we know what to do with,” the girl said as she stood in the doorway, obviously blocking their entry. “Dat suggested we just put them on the English neighbors’ front porches.” She frowned at Jenny, and Rebecca intervened.

  “Jenny, this is my niece Emmalyn Lapp, Andrew’s younger sister—you met Andrew at our place yesterday.”

  Jenny nodded and smiled. “Another of Marnie’s many cousins.”

  Emmalyn stared back. “You must be the fancy friend.”

  “Well, I was fancy. And I am Marnie’s friend, jah.”

  Emmalyn shrugged. “Dressin’ the part doesn’t make it so.”

  Jenny wholeheartedly agreed. “I would love to have been born Amish, like you.” She’d put it right out there, wondering how Andrew’s sassy sister might respond.

  But Emmalyn merely folded her arms and turned to her aunt Rebecca. “I’ll let Mamm know you dropped by.”

  “Are ya sure your mother doesn’t want this pumpkin?” Rebecca was still holding it. “’Cause she ordered it from me.”

  Emmalyn shook her head. “Why not give it to her yourself, then? See if she takes it.”

  “Just tell your mother I was here.” Rebecca put the pumpkin down, and that was that.

  Her jaw set, Rebecca made no excuses for Emmalyn, like she had for Nate Kurtz. She simply got into the wagon, picked up the reins, and clicked her cheek.

  Jenny felt chagrined at Emmalyn’s rudeness and barbed remarks. Some people are just a nuisance!

  She wondered if Rebecca was all right but didn’t know her well enough to ask. So she looked the other way, watching the world of Hickory Hollow pass at a snail’s pace.

  The final stop was Bishop John Beiler’s spacious farmhouse. His young wife, a rather plump but pretty woman named Mary, was giving her three youngest children a morning snack of juice and crackers when they arrived. Rebecca had mentioned the girls on the way into the house: chubby Mary Mae, just turned five—Mary’s first child with the formerly widowed bishop; petite Emily, who was three; and little Anna, eighteen months. There were five other children with the bishop’s first wife, Rebecca had said, most of them school age now. However, Hickory John and Nancy, the two oldest, both worked for other Amish families—Nancy in Sugarcreek, Ohio, where she assisted the bishop’s elderly aunt.

  It was quite an effort for Rebecca to talk over little Anna’s cries. Nevertheless, she did her best, stating that Jenny was the seeker her niece Marnie had helped bring to Hickory Hollow. “I wanted you to meet her.”

  “Ach, you’ll have to excuse my little one today,” Mary said, her blond hair falling out of the bun in several places. “She had a fitful night and is a little out of sorts today.”

  “I well remember such times with my own youngsters, so don’t fret,” Rebecca said, leaning over to stroke the older girl’s fair hair.

  Jenny smiled at tiny Anna, whose golden hair was pulled back into braids fastened into a thin knot on the back of her head. Jenny pulled a silly face, which made the tot cease her crying at once.

  “Well, that’s much better,” Mary said, kissing her daughter’s wet cheeks.

  The women talked further, and later Rebecca offered to carry in the pumpkin. “Is the back porch all right?”

  Mary agreed as she switched Anna to her other hip. “It’s awful nice of you to drop by, Rebecca.”

  “You’ll be able to make several big pies, ain’t?” Rebecca said before heading out to the spring wagon for the pumpkin, leaving Jenny alone with Mary and the children.

  “We’ve all been so curious ’bout you, Jenny Burns. I hope you’re finding a gut willkumm here,” Mary said, her angelic smile filling her round face. “Are ya?”

  The pleasant woman’s comments made Jenny feel warm all over. “Thanks, er . . . Denki. So far I’ve only met a f
ew neighbors, but Rebecca’s been just wonderful.”

  “There’s no one quite as kind—or long-suffering—as Rebecca Lapp, I agree.” Mary set Anna down on the floor to play with Emily. “We’ve got quite a few folk asking ’bout you,” she mentioned. “Everyone’s very interested. In a gut way, of course.”

  Jenny knew what she meant. And when she saw Rebecca coming up the back steps with the large pumpkin, she scurried to the door. “Here, let me help,” she said, thankful to have this distraction.

  “I’ve got it,” Rebecca said, gently placing the pumpkin on the floor. “There ya be, Mary.”

  “I’ll get some money right quick,” Mary said as she searched her dress pockets.

  “Ach, there’s no charge for the bishop’s family.” Rebecca wiped her hands on her black apron. “’Tis an offering of thanksgiving.”

  “Well, aren’t you nice!” Mary lightly touched Rebecca’s arm. “Denki to you and to Samuel, too.” Mary’s girls were quiet now as they stared up at Jenny with three sets of blue eyes.

  “Your girls are precious,” Jenny said, wishing they might stay longer.

  “I think they must like you.” Mary punctuated her words with a nod and a smile.

  “Maybe they’ve never seen such unruly bangs.” Jenny reached up and felt for the bobby pins.

  Mary shook her head. “Oh, I didn’t mean that. . . .”

  “The bangs are a problem. But it’s just a matter of time.” Jenny smiled at Rebecca.

  “Time is the key to many things, don’t forget,” Mary said with the sweetest smile.

  “I’m real happy to meet you, Mary.” Jenny offered to shake her hand.

  “We’ll get better acquainted soon,” Mary replied, receiving the handshake. “Has Rebecca talked with you ’bout coming to help me now and then with the little girls?”

  “She has, and I’d love to.” Jenny smiled and waved.

  After she and Rebecca had made the loop at the top of the driveway and headed back out to the road, Rebecca remarked, “I’ve never heard young Anna carry on like that before, just so ya know.”

  “Oh, that didn’t bother me.”

  “Workin’ as a mother’s helper might be a gut way to learn Deitsch quicker,” added Rebecca. “Since the children are learning to speak it, too.”

  “It’s going to take some time, like Mary said. Jah?” Jenny enjoyed using the word.

  “I daresay you’re right.”

  Hesitantly, Jenny forged ahead. “What about your husband—is he really okay with me staying at the house?”

  Rebecca paused for a moment. “Oh, never ya mind Samuel. He’ll come around . . . in time.”

  So I was right. Her being here had created conflict between them. Heaven knows there’s enough of that.

  Then, recalling the earlier incident at the Lapps’, she cringed again at the blunder with the yellow nightie. Here it was her first full day in Amish country, and she’d already made a fool of herself. And to think it was her reluctant host who’d discovered the gaffe!

  Chapter 13

  Jenny sighed and stretched and dragged out of bed when the alarm sounded at five o’clock Friday morning. Her third full day here, and already she felt fatigued from the dawn-to-dusk routine of cooking from scratch—three big meals a day. In her entire life she’d never minced so many onions. Nor had she boiled and then chopped so many eggs. There were numerous recipes to master, all of which Rebecca had stored in her head. Not a single recipe written down! The woman was a living, walking miracle, the way she managed all that was expected of her.

  And there’s no chance, even at my young age, I can even dream of keeping up with her!

  Rebecca had taught Jenny how to beat rugs, iron with a gas iron, gather eggs, and scrub wood floors on all fours. And, oh, the mountain of mending! She’d also shown Jenny how to make bread, but thus far Jenny’s bread looked nothing like Rebecca’s: plumped up on top, done to perfection.

  Jenny sat up in bed with a start. Just yesterday, she’d darned one of Samuel’s socks completely shut. Rebecca hadn’t seemed to mind and had a good laugh over it. She’d simply handed Jenny a seam ripper and, with a smile, requested she reopen the closure. And Jenny had started all over again.

  Along with indoor chores, Jenny had also assisted Rebecca with the daily customers who knocked on the back door, coming to purchase a variety of jams and jellies. She quickly learned that Rebecca Lapp’s preserves were known all over Lancaster County.

  But the temptation to beat herself up with her own yardstick of perfection persisted. I’m not a wimp . . . I’ll get used to all of this. I have to!

  Eventually, she pulled herself out of bed and dressed, glad to have showered the night before. When her hair was brushed and swept back into a thick bun, she hurried downstairs to help Rebecca make the hot breakfast for Samuel and whoever happened to stay around. They never knew how many of the Lapps’ nephews would appear for any given meal, but Rebecca had warned that this was the norm. Anyone was welcome, and Samuel was grateful for the help.

  Plenty of room at the table, too, Jenny thought.

  After the breakfast dishes were washed and dried and placed back in the cupboard, Jenny was pleased to see a blue van pull into the driveway. Marnie jumped out, wearing a big smile, and came around to the back door.

  “Are we going to the bookstore?” Jenny asked when she met her there.

  “Jah, but I can’t be gone for long. Need to get back to help Mamm cook for the weekend,” Marnie told her.

  “Same here.” Still, Jenny jumped at the chance to go. She found Rebecca in the sewing room upstairs, cutting out fabric for Samuel’s new work pants. “Do ya mind if I go with Marnie to Gordonville to the bookstore?”

  “Just right quick, jah? We have lots of pies to bake this afternoon.” Then Rebecca waved her off.

  “Denki,” Jenny said and hurried to her room to grab her purse. She dashed back downstairs, where she followed Marnie outdoors and into the nearly empty van. It was hard to imagine how Rebecca had juggled all the indoor duties prior to Jenny’s coming. The thought of it boggled her mind.

  Too bad Katie isn’t allowed to drop by and help, she thought, still puzzled by the day-to-day consequences of the shunning.

  At the bookstore, Jenny found a veritable storehouse of reading material—everything from Amish school curriculum to realistic fiction for children, such as The Pineapple Quilt and The Only Sister.

  Marnie tugged at her arm playfully, reminding her of the urgency to return home, and led her to the stack of paperback dictionaries. With a grin of assurance, she placed one firmly in Jenny’s hands. “Here ’tis. Your road map to speaking fluent Deitsch. This will help ya make more sense of what you’re already soaking up.”

  Pleased, Jenny could hardly wait to look up various words she’d heard repeatedly since her arrival, words like ferhoodled and Nachtmohl.

  The chatter in the van en route to Hickory Hollow increased greatly when two Amishwomen climbed aboard after waving down the driver outside the nearby Amish shoe store. Despite her fatigue and their talking, Jenny would not be deterred from her hunt through the dictionary. She quickly learned that Nachtmohl was Holy Communion, which she hoped, even prayed, to be eligible for as a bona fide church member.

  Will I endure the Proving? she wondered, the test stretching out before her like a grueling path. And to think she’d only lived Amish for a few days!

  ———

  Marnie could see how captivated Jenny was by the dictionary, so she let her browse through it while she talked with the womenfolk in the van. “Jah, she’s here to stay,” Marnie told them in Deitsch when they inquired. “There’s no question in my mind.”

  “Honestly, it’s hard to think of goin’ from the fancy English world to ours,” Ella Mae Zook’s married granddaughter Rachel Glick said, casting furtive looks Jenny’s way.

  “Oh, I agree,” Marnie replied. “Just think of all you’d have to give up: cars, phones, television . . . pretty clothes.”


  “Honestly, what would make someone from the outside want to join our church?” Rachel’s aunt asked.

  Marnie wasn’t free to divulge Jenny’s confidences. That was for her friend to share later, once she had steady footing amongst the People. “Maybe someday she’ll tell you.”

  This caused Rachel to roll her eyes, then shake her head. “Makes not a whit of sense, if ya ask me.”

  “She’s not askin’ you.” Marnie smiled.

  “Well, aren’t you something?” Rachel teased.

  “Sorry,” Marnie offered. “Hope I didn’t sound mouthy.”

  The other women exchanged glances.

  “She’s learnin’ our language, so very soon we’ll be including Jenny in all our conversations,” Marnie added hastily, not wanting to exclude a friend.

  Rachel was quick to nod her head.

  “What lengths would you go . . . to make a dream come true?” Marnie asked in an attempt to change the tone of the conversation.

  “Not sure.” Rachel frowned. “Why?”

  Marnie went on to say she thought Jenny Burns had done nearly the impossible, moving heaven and earth to get here. “It’s remarkable, really.”

  The women nodded, now staring at the back of Jenny’s head as she read her dictionary.

  Jenny chose that moment to enter their chatter. “Why’s the spelling for ferhoodled different?” she asked, turning to face Marnie. “I was paging through and stumbled upon a spelling I’ve never seen before in books.”

  “Show me.” Marnie leaned over to look at the book.

  “It’s spelled v–e–r–h–u–d–d–e–l–t,” Jenny said, showing her the word and the meaning—confused, entangled, mixed-up.

  “Oh, that’s not surprising, really.”

  Jenny looked at her, puzzled.

  “Some of my circle letter friends in Ohio, for instance, spell our words completely different,” Marnie explained. “It’s not like German, where there’s a set standard for spelling.”

  Jenny grimaced. “Uniformity would be helpful.”

  Marnie could see that she was struggling—and not just with words in a dictionary. No, Jenny looked sleep deprived.