“Then we turned west onto the highway and circled all the way back to that town with the odd name.” The younger woman dabbed at her very thin eyebrows.
“Ah, ’tis Intercourse Village,” Rebecca prompted her. “Jenny’s just over yonder, behind the plowed field, taking care of the bishop’s children. You can go over there if you’d like.”
“Thanks,” they said in chorus, then returned to their bright red car in their pencil-thin blue jeans.
Why’d they come? As she hung up the cold, wet washing in the cellar, Rebecca couldn’t help thinking the fancy girls’ surprise appearance might be useful to her. Why, if Jenny Burns threw in the towel and abandoned her attempt to become Amish, it might just save Rebecca’s skin.
Oh, but she felt guilty for thinking that way. Sighing, she shook her head, downright disgusted with herself.
Chapter 26
Jenny squealed with joy when she answered the knock at the back door and saw Pamela and Dorie Kennedy standing there. Quickly, she pushed the door open.
Pamela’s jaw dropped as Dorie bent to better inspect Jenny’s long dress and apron. For a moment, the three of them simply gawked at one another.
Dorie was the first to find her voice. “Whoa, Jen. You’ve turned . . . Amish!”
Pamela reached for Jenny, who returned the hug, followed by Dorie, who nearly squeezed the life out of her before they all shared in a group hug. Standing back again, Pamela’s blue eyes shone. “You really, really look the part, Jen.”
“Bravo!” Dorie was clapping.
Then, remembering the bishop’s children, Jenny cringed and held her pointer finger over her lips. “I forgot,” she whispered, “two of the kids are sleeping.” She gestured to Dorie and Pamela to follow her into the utility room, closing the door behind them. “It’s so good to see you two! You must have read my letter.”
“Did we ever!” Dorie teased with a roll of her pretty green eyes.
Pamela smiled sweetly, apparently unable to stop staring at Jenny’s clothes. Dorie touched the fabric of her dress. “What’re we going to do with you, girl?”
“Hmm . . . you’re not into vintage?” Jenny joked, feeling flushed.
“Your new look, it’s just so, well . . .” Dorie paused.
“Plain?” Jenny said.
“I think you look pretty,” Pamela spoke up. “In an Old World sort of way.”
Jenny explained that she didn’t know if it was a good idea to invite them in. “I’m not sure what the bishop’s wife would say.”
“That’s okay,” Pamela said. “We don’t mean to barge in.”
They stood and talked there in the outer room while Jenny glanced at the children in the kitchen from time to time.
“You look like you fit right in here,” Dorie said.
“Except for my dreadful bangs.” Jenny patted her head. “I’m still growing them out.”
“Listen, if that’s your one and only flaw, you’re good.” Pamela fluffed her own chin-length hair.
“Oh, there’s far more to being an Amish seeker than meets the eye,” Jenny said as they quickly caught up on one another’s lives. This included Pamela’s exciting new job as a publicist for a celebrity author, and Dorie’s purchase of a townhome in Hartford, near Mark Twain’s former house.
“I’m going to have a new roommate.”
“You’re parting ways?” Jenny asked, surprised.
“It’s time,” Dorie said with a smile.
“Any serious guys on the horizon?” asked Jenny.
“Career first,” Pamela said. “Romance can wait.”
“What about your life here?” Dorie probed. “Aren’t you tired of getting up with the chickens?”
Jenny laughed. “Who could ever adjust to that?”
“Are you saying there’s hope?” Pamela asked.
Jenny’s gaze swept the narrow room. “I’m living the simple life, as you can see. There’s nothing quite like it.”
An awkward pause settled in, and Pamela’s face darkened. “Seriously, Jenny . . . when are you coming home?”
“Dorie, honey . . .” Pamela eyed her sister. “Be nice.”
“Um, that was nice.”
They were both looking at her, waiting for an answer.
“I explained everything in my letter. You read it, right?”
Dorie nodded. “Sure, but now that you’re here . . . I mean, really?”
Jenny’s heart sank but she smiled anyway. “I’m very happy.”
There was another pause.
Dorie sighed, followed by a subtle shake of the head. They must believe she’d lost it. “So . . . do you have to wear that funky black apron all the time?”
“This?” Jenny smoothed her apron. “All the women wear them. White on Sundays for single women, though, for Preaching service.”
“There’s probably a lot we don’t get, Dorie,” Pamela said. “Right, Jenny?”
She bobbed her head.
Dorie frowned. “Well, I’m worried about you.”
Pamela touched Jenny’s arm. “Your mom’s worried, too.”
“You’ve talked to her?”
Pamela nodded and exchanged glances with Dorie. “The truth?”
“Always.”
“Your mom’s flipped out.” Pamela’s eyes were serious again.
Dorie added, “She sent us on a reconnaissance mission.”
“Sniffing out what I’m really up to?”
“In so many words,” Dorie admitted.
“And was there a reward involved?” Jenny laughed but felt ill.
“Oh, Jen . . .” Pamela said, looking cheerless.
“She offered us cash,” Dorie said, a humorous glint in her eyes. “But we refused.”
“It’s nice to have friends who can’t be bought off.” Jenny chuckled but felt she had to change the subject. “Would you like something to drink? I could bring something out here,” she offered, but they shook their heads and politely declined.
“We’d better get going,” said Pamela. “Any parting words?”
“In Deitsch or otherwise?” Jenny said, relieved the awkward reunion was coming to an end.
“English is good,” Dorie replied.
“Just greet my parents for me.” Jenny paused, thinking there was more she’d like to relay to her family.
“By the way, your brother has a new girlfriend,” Pamela said. “He broke it off with Tracie.”
Jenny was sorry to hear it. “Wow, I thought she was the one for Cameron.”
“Oh, you know, things happen,” Pamela said, looking as miserable as Jenny felt. “Hey, maybe you could visit for Christmas and get the whole scoop.”
Dorie grinned. “Yeah, and be sure to wear your cute Amish outfit, okay?”
Jenny heard little Anna stirring in the playpen. “I’d better get going—thanks for coming to visit.”
Pamela said, “We’re staying at the Hampton Inn over on Greenfield Road if you want to do anything this afternoon.”
“Wish you’d given me a heads-up. I’m busy all day today.”
“Well, if you change your mind, just text us,” Pamela said. “Oh, wait, I forgot—”
“No cell phone,” Jenny reminded.
Dorie grimaced. “You’re really cut off, Jen.”
“It’s not so bad.”
Dorie shook her head. “Maybe not for you.”
Pamela gave her a sad little smile. “Nice seeing you, Jen. Take care.”
They embraced quickly, instinctively.
Jenny sighed. It was no fun saying good-bye to her faithful friends. This was the hard part of separating oneself from the world. Samuel Lapp had read aloud from the English Bible on this very subject just last evening. “The tearing away is never easy,” he’d added while looking over his spectacles at her. Tearing away from the English world . . . and from my wicked self.
She smiled and waved as her friends looked back at her, the shock still evident on their fair faces. She watched them go for what might be the
last time, a lump in her throat. But what gave her even more pause was the fact that her family hadn’t had the nerve, or the interest, to come visit themselves.
Chapter 27
With a bit of trepidation, Marnie Lapp waited for her beau beneath a cluster of willows near the road Tuesday evening. Roy Flaud brightened when he jumped out of the passenger van wearing his Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes. He helped her in with a silent grin.
They talked quietly in Deitsch as the paid driver pulled forward. Marnie felt the energy between them when Roy reached for her hand. “I didn’t bring along a Bible,” she told him. “S’pose that’s all right?”
He removed a small Testament from his coat pocket. “We’ll share.”
She thought he might kiss her cheek right then, Roy seemed so pleased. Was it being with her or anticipation for the meeting he was so impatient to attend?
“I’m reading chapter eleven in Luke’s Gospel, the part about lighting a candle and hiding it under a bushel basket,” he said. “Have ya seen that verse?”
“Can’t say I have.”
He opened his New Testament to a bookmarked page. “Here, read it for yourself.” He pointed to verse thirty-three.
She wondered why this was so important, but she took time to look at it all the same. Then, nodding, she handed the Testament back. “’Tis verninfdich.”
“Jah, I agree. It does make sense to display a light for all to see.” Roy’s eyes brightened and he slid closer to her.
“Why did ya want me to read that?” she asked.
“The Lord’s shown me truths in the four Gospels that I’ve missed my whole life.”
Marnie didn’t know what to think of this. Weren’t the ministerial brethren supposed to be the ones to impart the knowledge of Scripture?
Roy leaned back, still holding the thin little book. He said no more on the topic, and Marnie hoped that was the end of it.
Turning off Hickory Lane, they drove down a meandering road, past meadows where black-and-white heifers roamed. In the distance, a yard light illuminated a graceful row of poplars that served as a windbreak for a nearby redbrick farmhouse, and Marnie began to wish for the first lovely snowfall. Now that wedding season was in full swing, she could also start to dream of her own wedding day . . . next year.
“You’re awful quiet, Marnie.” Roy pressed his shoulder against hers.
“Just thinkin’.”
“’Bout us, I hope.”
She looked at him, smiling. “Always.”
“Gut,” he whispered. “Me too.”
She thrilled to his words as he searched her face. Leaning in next to him, she whispered, “We’d best behave ourselves in public, ya know.”
He bobbed his head right quick and let go of her hand, folding his arms over his chest. “Gut idea.”
She suppressed a laugh and turned to gaze out the window, so happy. “Where are we goin’, anyways?” She had noticed some familiar terrain along the way, but here there were no streetlights.
“Ever hear of Daniel Fisher?” Roy asked as the van turned into a driveway.
“There’s a bunch of ’em.” She had to smile. “But sounds Amish, ain’t?” She looked outside again, then noticed the little porch light and gasped. “You’ve brought me to my shunned relatives’ house?”
He shook his head. “Who do ya mean?”
“Dan and Katie—they’re my first cousins.” Oh, she could’ve cried, and now the driver had turned around, gawking at them but thankfully not able to understand what they were saying. Yet he could surely see her downturned face.
Marnie pressed her hand to her heart. “I can’t go in there, Roy. I just can’t.”
“We’ll talk outside.” Roy reached for the door.
Marnie shook her head. “I think we best be stayin’ right here.”
“Sweetheart, please.”
She had been taught to obey her father, older brothers . . . and her fiancé, too. So, reluctantly and with a heavy heart, Marnie followed Roy and stepped down, out of the van. Roy went around and paid the driver, instructing him to return in two hours.
He must not care how I feel, Marnie thought.
The van backed up slowly, then pulled out onto the road and sped away while she and Roy stood off to the side of the driveway by a tall tree. Marnie bit her tongue and tried her best not to argue with her beloved. As much as she knew she’d be in terrible trouble with her father, she did not want to spoil the evening, although she feared she already had.
“No one will ever know you’re here,” Roy coaxed. “I promise.”
“My cousins will know . . . and so will God.”
“But your cousins won’t tell on ya, and the Lord will be mighty pleased.”
“And you really think my father won’t hear ’bout this?” she asked in what she hoped was a meek voice.
“Just follow me, love.” He kissed her forehead. “You won’t be sorry.”
Marnie walked to the front porch with him, fretting the whole way. Was she doing the right thing? And what on earth was she to say to Cousin Katie?
Jenny took mental notes while Samuel balanced his old German Biewel on his knee, sitting there in the front room with Rebecca. It was Samuel’s idea to read one verse first in German and then in English. “Reading from the Psalms that way is something he likes to do,” Rebecca had mentioned earlier.
Jenny’s guilt tore at her heart. She could not bring herself to look at Rebecca during the reading. She had offered her silence up to God, praying to be forgiven. She wondered if Rebecca was also compelled to ask for mercy each time she hurried off to see Katie against the bishop’s wishes. By the looks of her, the woman was under tremendous strain, perhaps even losing weight. Jenny felt moved to pray for her during the silent prayer time, offering her entire entreaty on behalf of poor Rebecca.
When they were finished, Samuel rose with some effort, put the Bible on a nearby table, and headed back through the kitchen to the door. In a few minutes, though, he returned to tell Jenny she ought to go out and observe Andrew unhitch one of Samuel’s road horses. “Andrew’s the one to watch,” he said, and Rebecca, in turn, encouraged Jenny, as well.
“I’ll get my scarf and gloves.” Jenny felt odd about going. After all, it had been eight days since she’d encountered Andrew down at the springhouse pond, which must be frozen over by now, with the cold weather.
When she’d put on Rebecca’s old work coat and boots, Jenny made her way outdoors and across the yard to the driveway. The cold pricked her face and she adjusted her scarf. She realized Samuel had returned to the barn to finish cleaning the milk house, since Andrew was working alone to unhook the straps on the back of the horse.
“Samuel suggested I come to watch,” she said as she neared the horse.
Andrew chuckled. “Actually, it was my idea,” he was quick to say. “Go round to the other side of the mare, won’t ya?”
She followed his instructions, trying extra hard to do things correctly this time. Jenny concentrated on helping him unhook the traces and tuck them into the harness around the back of Star.
“Have ya been outdoors prayin’?” Andrew asked casually.
“It’s been too cold.” She hoped that would lessen any fears he might have about being caught with her.
“I haven’t gone there to pray lately, either,” he said.
Yet I’ve been praying more than ever, she thought, though naturally she didn’t wish to reveal why.
“There were some Englischers lookin’ for ya here lately.”
“That Amish grapevine is astonishing, jah?”
“Well, I didn’t hear this secondhand,” Andrew said, still working on his side. “A red sports car stopped, and the lady driver asked me for directions.”
“Must have been my friend Pamela Kennedy,” she volunteered.
“She was real chatty, I’ll say.”
Jenny smiled. “That’s Pamela, all right. Her sister’s quite personable, too.”
“They did seem nice
. Not like some tourists who manage to find their way to Hickory Hollow.” Andrew paused and looked over at her. “Did they come to take ya home?”
“I think they would have liked to, but it wasn’t the main reason they came.”
“Oh?”
She nodded slowly. “My parents sent them.”
Andrew sucked in a breath and straightened. “Your family misses ya, then?”
She laughed. “I wouldn’t say that exactly.”
He didn’t press further.
“The truth is, no one back home can believe I’ve walked away from my former life.” She sighed. “I doubt it’s the last trick my parents will pull.”
He didn’t respond. Did he think she was disrespectful?
Andrew asked her to help him hold the shafts and lead the horse out and away from them. For some reason, the maneuver was easier than her previous attempts, even though this time it was by lantern light.
Andrew pushed the carriage over a ways, and together they walked the horse to the stable. As they went, Andrew took a sugar cube from his pocket and handed it to Jenny. “Here, give her this, all right?”
“Denki.”
He added, “The more you bond with the horses, the better.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d heard this. “I don’t have a lot of free time,” she told him. “Rebecca—and Mary—keep me very busy.”
“Well, every chance you get, come out to the stable and help groom or feed the horses. Eventually, they’ll become more accustomed to you and actually work with ya, makin’ it easier to hitch up.”
She thanked Andrew for the advice and stepped back, waiting for him to lead Star into her stall. Once the horse was secured, she held out the sugar cube on her flat palm.
“No need to be afraid,” Andrew said, holding the lantern.
She’s so much bigger than I am. . . .
“Go ahead . . . talk to her,” Andrew gently urged.
Jenny felt silly, even awkward. “That’s a good girl,” she whispered.
“Don’t be shy,” Andrew said. “Go on.”
“But I am shy.”
He tilted his head, sizing things up. “All right, then, maybe you can practice when no one’s round. Will ya?”
The Secret Keeper Page 14