The Secret Keeper

by Beverly Lewis

  It was close to eleven o’clock when Jenny opened the oven and removed the steaming loaf. But as before, the bread had flopped in the middle. “What am I doing wrong?”

  Disgusted, she refused to give up. Tomorrow she would try again, and she would leave extra money with the weekly rent payment for Rebecca to replace the wasted ingredients.

  Jenny ran upstairs to change into a clean dress, having spilled milk and flour on both her apron and her dress. “I’m a sight,” she said, trying to put the baking disaster out of her mind.

  It was going to be the strangest Thanksgiving ever, but hadn’t she counted the cost before coming here? It was her choice, after all, to separate from her world in an attempt to live a life in unity with God and the People. In so doing, Jenny had lost her family.

  Just like Katie . . .

  “Ach, are you sure?” Rebecca asked Rachel Stoltzfus, the bishop’s mother-in-law, who had ridden along with her and Samuel to the wedding. They were sitting alone at the table, having just finished their dessert of delicious white cake, and the topic of Katie and Dan’s invitation had come up.

  Rachel removed a lace-edged hankie from beneath her sleeve and leaned close to Rebecca, whispering. “Word has it your daughter’s offered to open up her home to two of our teenage girls.”

  “You don’t mean it!”

  “Just ask Lovina Yoder.”

  Rebecca found it difficult to consider talking to their preacher’s wife about such a matter. “Ach, this is greislich—dreadful.”

  “Jah, indeed.”

  “Why would Dan and Katie do such a thing?” She could not for the life of her understand what they were thinking.

  “Well, when ya believe in something so strongly that you’re willin’ to leave family and home to pursue it, ya never know what’s next.” Rachel wiped her brow with her hankie. “Once this gets out, I’m afraid we could see a whole bunch of young folk movin’ away.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Rachel turned to glance over her plump shoulder, then looked back at Rebecca. “Some are sayin’ the bishop’s gonna empty out the church. You can read between the lines, ain’t?”

  “Too strict?” Rebecca bent near Rachel’s ear to say it.

  “Seems so.”

  “Well, we’ve always known that. What’s different?”

  “Modern ways are creepin’ in—smartphones and iPads and whatnot all. Word has it the young folk are talkin’ privately amongst themselves about their questions—and the bishop. Something ’bout goin’ viral.”

  Rebecca shuddered to think her own daughter was paving the way for an exit, if that’s what was happening. Could it be true? It was ever so hard to believe that more than just a couple of girls might want to leave Hickory Hollow. “Are ya sure this isn’t tittle-tattle?”

  “Ain’t gossip.” Rachel shook her head. “Like I said, if ya don’t believe me, go an’ talk to Lovina.”

  “Oh, dear me.” Reaching to cover Rachel’s wrinkled hand with her own, Rebecca knew it was high time to write Katie a letter. And she would do so the very minute she returned home today.

  Jenny was surprised to see Emmalyn Lapp already there at Ella Mae’s when she arrived. The Amish teen was down on the floor playing with three young children, whom Ella Mae quickly introduced as Mattie’s grandchildren—Ella Mae’s “greats.”

  Did the Wise Woman know Emmalyn was coming? Jenny wondered. Did she plan this? Jenny offered to help set the table in the larger house, but Ella Mae insisted that Mattie had already finished doing that. “You just relax and enjoy the family atmosphere,” Ella Mae said with a smile. Yet how could Jenny, with Emmalyn there?

  Eventually she learned that Emmalyn had chosen not to attend the wedding today, so at Ella Mae’s invitation, she’d come to help entertain the children.

  Interesting, Jenny thought.

  After spending time in Ella Mae’s kitchen and carrying over several hot dishes to the main house, Jenny was relieved when Mattie called all of them next door to be seated. Emmalyn went to sit with the youngest children at the far end, away from Jenny.

  David and Mattie Beiler and their grandchildren were there, as well as the bishop’s wife, Mary, with six of the bishop’s children still living at home. It surprised Jenny to see Mary Beiler without her husband, but someone said that the bishop had gone to marry Samuel and Rebecca’s niece to her longtime beau, Adam Miller.

  All the same, Jenny wondered why Mary and the children were there and not at the wedding. What’s going on?

  Marnie felt altogether blue by the time the wedding feast was finished. It was hard not to remember how happy she’d been at Cousin Linda Ebersol’s wedding with Roy two weeks ago. How she’d loved spending the day with him!

  Naomi Beiler, who had also gone to the Fishers’ Bible study, smiled from across the room. Marnie rose and went to her, and Naomi suggested they go for a walk. “I can’t breathe in here anymore,” Naomi whispered.

  Agreeing to go, Marnie hoped she wasn’t in for more bad news. The day had been fraught with enough emotion. “Are you enjoyin’ yourself at all?” she asked as they made their way up the road.

  “Not much.” Naomi sniffled.

  “You too?”

  Naomi nodded slowly. “I had such wunnerbaar-gut plans, but they’re upset now ’cause I got found out. Did ya know Preacher Yoder was over there in the shadows watchin’ all of us file into Dan and Katie’s Tuesday night?”

  “Jah, I heard someone was spyin’. Didn’t know it was Preacher Yoder, though.”

  “What’re you gonna do, Marnie?”

  She shrugged. “What can I do? We’ll just have to quit goin’, is all.”

  “Well, you might not know it, but I’ve decided to take Katie up on her invitation to move in over there.” Naomi was fuming.

  Marnie stopped walking, shocked. “You’d do that—you’d up and leave your family?”

  Naomi jerked on her Kapp strings till one of them popped right off. “Just look what I did,” she said and burst into tears. “Just look. . . .”

  “Maybe it’s a sign.” Marnie wished she could comfort her.

  “I want a different life, one like Katie’s and Dan’s,” Naomi insisted. “Don’t ya see how happy they are?” She paused to brush back tears. “Just think ’bout it. Most of the men I know are sour faced, and the womenfolk, well, the happiest times are when we’re all workin’ at a quilting bee or whatnot.” Naomi started walking again.

  Marnie listened but did not agree. “Maybe you’re only seekin’ out the miserable ones. Could that be?”

  Naomi said she didn’t know. “Gut thing I ain’t baptized. I can fly away . . . if I get the gumption to.”

  Marnie didn’t comment. Still, she felt awful bad for Naomi. She would have the ministerial brethren breathing down her neck now for sure.

  “Don’t let me sway you, though, Marnie.” Naomi slowed her pace in spite of the cold. “You’ve got your own mind to make up.”

  “Does the bishop know you’re movin’ to Fishers’?”

  “How can he not know?” Naomi whimpered. “The way the grapevine goes.”

  “Well, this is the first I’ve heard it.”

  Naomi merely bobbed her head, her face wrinkling as if to cry, and Marnie reached for her hand.

  Chapter 33

  After the memorable Thanksgiving feast, Jenny helped Emmalyn dress Mattie’s three small grandchildren, putting on their coats, knit hats, scarves, and mittens. They dashed out the back door, along with Emmalyn and Jenny, too, into the big yard, where mature trees rimmed the area to the north. One in particular had an inviting circular wooden seat built at its base. Though the air was brisk, the sun was strong and warm. The lone boy and two little girls ran around the tree, flapping arms held high, then would sit down for a few seconds on the wooden seat before popping back up to run again.

  It looked to Jenny like they were pretending to be either birds or butterflies. Perhaps the boy was the bird and the girls were young butterf
lies fresh out of cocoons. She stood just a few yards back from Emmalyn, unsure if she dared subject herself to Andrew’s sister again. So far, so good, she thought, looking at the sky and wondering what her family was doing today, besides eating themselves into oblivion.

  “It was awful nice of Ella Mae and Mattie to celebrate an Englischer’s holiday with you,” Emmalyn finally said, her eyes meeting Jenny’s.

  “It certainly was.”

  “Never saw that happen before round here. Prob’ly never will again.”

  “It really wasn’t necessary,” Jenny said. “But I appreciate it.”

  “Well, you’ve given up a lot to come here, I ’spect.”

  “In some ways, yes . . . er, jah.”

  Emmalyn fell silent and the children’s playful sounds filled the yard. The boy had no problem fitting in with his sisters, Jenny noticed, and she remembered her own brother’s futile attempts to mesh with her and Kiersten when they were kids. It had basically been Cameron against the two of them from early on. Then later, Kiersten had teamed up with Cameron against Jenny. Someone was always on the outside looking in, she realized, feeling sad as she watched the Amish youngsters play so delightfully together. Rebecca might say it was all in the upbringing, and Jenny had to agree.

  “Have ya learned the shortcut for makin’ butter?” Emmalyn asked unexpectedly.

  “No,” Jenny said, not sure where this was coming from.

  “You just pour some fresh cream in a canning jar and make sure the lid’s on real tight, then put it in the washing machine.”

  After the trick Emmalyn had pulled after the first shared meal, Jenny looked at her skeptically. “You’re not pulling my leg, are you?”

  “Just ask Ella Mae—she does it sometimes, too.”

  Jenny still wasn’t sure if Emmalyn was actually serious, so she changed the subject to baby-sitting. “Looks like you’re having fun today with the Beiler grandkids.”

  “Oh jah. But ’tween you and me, it all depends on die Kinner—the children.” Emmalyn glanced back at her. “How do ya like takin’ care of the bishop’s youngest?”

  “They’re very sweet.”

  Emmalyn nodded. “I’ve kinda wondered how ya got that job, considering . . .”

  Emmalyn’s words always had a way of jabbing. “I really don’t know,” Jenny replied softly, gently, the way Rebecca had taught her. Above all she wanted “the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit.”

  Soon, the bishop’s eleven-year-old son Jacob and five-year-old daughter Mary Mae came outside to play, too. They had not even the slightest hesitation to join the others, and they all swooped and darted about like barn swallows in flight.

  Why can’t I merge into Amish life like that? Jenny wondered, a little envious of the fluid motions of their interaction.

  Emmalyn went to sit on the seat at the base of the tree, and the children clapped their hands and treated her like a princess. Sunbeams dappled the front of Emmalyn’s hair, making it look like spun gold. Was there such a thing as Amish royalty? Jenny imagined that if there were dandelions to decorate Emmalyn’s hair, the girls might have made a crown with them.

  They adore her. . . .

  Jenny turned to go inside, contemplating the odd dichotomy. Was it true that children often sensed whom they could trust and who was real or fake?

  Is Emmalyn only difficult around me?

  Naomi’s cheeks and nose were red with the burning cold as she and Marnie approached the bride’s parents’ home. “Do you think of me as a person who’d openly disobey?” Marnie probed.

  “Well, if you’re thinkin’ thataway, then maybe so. Are you planning to?”

  She couldn’t tell Naomi her plans, because she wasn’t sure of them herself.

  “What if Roy asks you to leave the Amish with him—I mean, if he’s leavin’?”

  “He’s never confided that.” Shaking her head, Marnie felt sick at the thought. “I look at what’s happened with the breach ’tween Cousin Katie and her parents and brothers. It’s awful sad, ya know. And it’s not changin’ anytime soon. Dan and Katie aren’t comin’ back to bow their knee and repent. Prob’ly never,” said Marnie.

  “It’s like I said: They’re happy in their new church community. God is their King, not the bishop.”

  Marnie gasped. “You think like that?”

  “Sometimes it seems like that.” Naomi said it straight-faced. “I’ve heard a lot of the other youth are getting fed up, too.”

  Marnie didn’t want to defame their bishop’s position. “They’d better be careful what they say. Bishop John was chosen by divine lot—God ordained.”

  Naomi didn’t bow her head in shame, but she nodded slowly. “It’s all so hard to understand. But Dan Fisher’s teachin’ from the New Testament makes sense to me.”

  “I agree, but it’s all woven together like a well-made basket. Don’t forget, you can’t have one without the other—faith without family. And vice versa.”

  Naomi hissed, “That’s silly, Marnie, and you know it. It’s the Lord who’s the center of our faith.”

  Marnie didn’t say more. She felt nearly frozen from their long walk and was anxious to get warmed up.

  “I’ll be prayin’ for ya,” Naomi said as they went.

  Marnie thanked her and hurried around to the back door, surprised to see most of the young couples had disappeared from the bride’s house. Must be in the barn or the stable.

  Her parents, however, were sitting in the front room speaking with Bishop John Beiler. When Marnie spotted him, the man of God looked at her with fiery eyes, and she was helpless not to meet his gaze.

  He knows everything!

  Ella Mae was dropping a sugar cube into her coffee cup as Jenny returned to the Beilers’ large farmhouse. Emmalyn had gone over to pick up the toys at Ella Mae’s.

  Mattie motioned Jenny back to the table, where the adults had settled in for coffee and another helping of pumpkin pie. Two of the bishop’s children, Levi and Susie, were playing dominoes at the far end of the table.

  “Is it getting colder out?” asked Mattie.

  “It’s pretty nice in the sun,” Jenny told them.

  “And the little ones are bundled up, so they should be all right,” Mattie replied.

  Ella Mae scooted over next to Jenny. “Mary has something she’d like to say,” she said softly. The frail woman leaned forward to get Mary’s attention. “Tell Jenny what ya told me earlier.”

  “Well, sure.” Mary looked like she’d been put on the spot. “Bishop John has been askin’ me to talk to you.”

  Jenny tensed up.

  “There’s something goin’ on . . . well, how should I say this?” Mary paused. “The bishop’s aware of one of our former church member’s interaction with—”

  “Just come out and say it,” Ella Mae interrupted.

  Please, no, thought Jenny, clasping her hands beneath the table. Oh, she felt nauseous, recalling that fateful night, following Rebecca in the dark, up the long road. Then, discovering the secret and wishing for all the world she’d never known the forbidden pull between mother and daughter.

  “Have you met Naomi Beiler yet?” asked Mary. “She’s our niece . . . the bishop’s blood kin.”

  “Jah, once.” Jenny’s heart pounded. Was this about Naomi or Rebecca? She held her breath.

  “Would ya like to befriend her, maybe?” Mary continued, explaining that the bishop was concerned about her and thought Jenny’s fervor for the Amish life might benefit his “rather wayward” niece. “We’re concerned she’s planning to leave the hollow.”

  Jenny was startled by the request, just as she’d been surprised at being entrusted with the bishop and Mary’s little girls so early in her Proving time. “What would you suggest?”

  Mary went on, saying she’d thought about perhaps having Naomi over to show Jenny how to do piecework for quilting on one of the days when Jenny was caring for the girls. “How’s that?”

  “That’d be great—I’ve always want
ed to learn to piece a quilt.”

  “Gut then, I’ll let John know. I’m so glad I got the chance to talk with you today. Denki, Jenny. This will mean so much to him—to us both.”

  “If Jenny can work a miracle, that is,” Ella Mae piped up, a half smile on her face.

  Jenny offered a smile of her own to Mary, her heartbeat slowing again in relief that Rebecca Lapp wasn’t going to be the topic of conversation. But she was very curious about what the bishop thought she as a seeker might do for his niece.

  Naomi has grown up Amish, so how can I possibly be of help?

  Chapter 34

  Jenny relished her time with Ella Mae’s charming family, as well as everyone else present. She learned from Mary that she and the children hadn’t been invited to the wedding where the bishop presided. “I imagine there were enough folk there without our brood,” Mary chuckled.

  All of them divided up in groups and played Dutch Blitz for an hour or more, and she quickly understood why David Beiler called the game habit-forming. Jenny would have stayed longer, but an idea had come to mind that she was eager to pursue. Somewhere in a nearby field, there was a phone shanty, she’d been told—one concealed by a clump of tall bushes. Assuming Jenny could locate it, she would try to get in touch with her family. If I can keep up my courage.

  She wanted to share a little with them about her exceptional Thanksgiving Day. Remarkable in every way, Jenny thought as she again thanked Ella Mae, and David and Mattie, too. She felt like she was actually part of the Amish community here at last.

  The lengthy walk back across the field toward the Lapps’ was a haze of delight. These people really cared about her. And that dear, sweet Ella Mae—the special meal really had been her doing.

  Today would have been perfect, if it weren’t for my jumpy conscience. Jenny relived her initial fearful reaction to Mary Beiler’s comments. “What will I say if I’m ever confronted about Rebecca?” she whispered into the cold air, breath spiraling up. Her stomach turned, but at least for now, she would continue to honor Rebecca’s plea for silence.