The Secret Keeper

by Beverly Lewis

  Their prayer time was short and to the point, and even though she’d felt a bit uncomfortable about letting Andrew hear her prayers, Jenny soon realized she no longer clenched her folded hands. Praying with Andrew was quite exciting, and very sweet, too, although she did still feel somewhat anxious about being alone with him, not wanting anyone to mistake their intentions.

  “I received your thank-you note,” Andrew said as he reached for the flashlight and rose to open the door. “You didn’t have to do that, ya know.”

  “And neither did you,” she said, referring to his gift. “I’ve been reading the devotional book morning and night and really enjoying it.”

  He smiled, looking even more handsome tonight. “It’s a timeless classic. My older brothers and their wives use the same one each morning.”

  “I can see why.” She loved talking with him but thought they should be going.

  “I’ll see you here next week, if you’d like,” he said.

  “If it’s milder weather, we should pray outdoors, jah?” She knew he’d understand.

  He agreed, smiling. “Do ya mind if I write to you between our prayer visits?”

  Just the way he said it made her heart smile. “Okay.”

  “I won’t put my name or return address on the envelope . . . for obvious reasons.”

  “Gut idea,” she said. “And before I forget, how much was the long-distance phone call?”

  “I haven’t gotten the bill yet, but let’s just forget about it.”

  “Um . . . we had a deal.” She didn’t want to renege.

  “I’ll let you know when it comes.”

  “Denki, Andrew. Gut Nacht.” She headed out the door as he held it open. Without looking back, she hurried toward the stairs as she heard him go in the opposite direction.

  As she walked toward the house, she decided that their prayer rendezvous would probably seem peculiar to anyone but the two of them. And she wouldn’t enter Rebecca’s kitchen before removing the pleased smile from her face. From her current vantage point, she could see Samuel and Rebecca presently having their own devotional time.

  Jenny slipped into the stable to see the driving horses again, as she had been doing at Andrew’s suggestion. She realized once more how fond Andrew was of her, even though the pretext for their relationship was friendship. That, and prayer partners.

  Chapter 38

  Marnie knew just the person to confide in on Friday afternoon. It was either that or burst. Besides, she was dying to know if Roy had sent a reply, and today was the first chance she’d had to ask.

  “I can’t think of not bein’ with my beau,” she told the Wise Woman, trying to contain her emotions at the pretty tea table with yellow rose paper napkins and matching placemats.

  “’Course ya can’t, Marnie. Your heart’s all bound up in him, ain’t so?”

  Marnie wiped a tear from her cheek. “Did ya feel that way, too, when you first met your husband?”

  “Oh jah . . . ages ago.” Ella Mae leaned nearer. “And ya want to know a little secret?”

  Marnie quickly nodded her head.

  “Every single one of us feels that way in the blush of first love. I did, so did your Mamma and Dat—same with your grandparents, too. It’s the way the Good Lord made us.”

  Marnie thought on that. “So what happens when we’re told we can’t be with the young man we love . . . what then?”

  “Are ya grown-up enough to make your own decision about love? Are ya trustin’ God for that important choice?” Ella Mae stirred the peppermint tea in her delicate cup. “Are ya, dearie?”

  “I have no doubt Roy’s the one for me,” Marnie said, meaning it.

  Ella Mae shrugged her slight shoulders. “That’s your answer, then. Ya know what you must do.”

  She bowed her head. “Why’s it such a struggle?”

  “Believe in God’s Word and live your life accordingly . . . however the Lord leads.”

  “Even if that means disregarding my father’s wishes?”

  “Well, it ain’t like your father was the most obedient young man there ever was.”

  “What are ya sayin’?”

  “Your father went up against his own Dat—your Dawdi Lapp—back when he was a young fella.”

  Marnie had never heard this.

  “I’ll just say there was quite the Uffruhr—uproar—in the woodshed, and for days at a time, too.” Ella Mae blinked her eyes and squinted into the window’s light, a mask of memories on her wrinkled face.

  “Now ya’ve got me wonderin’.”

  “Had plenty to do with your father courtin’ a girl he loved.”

  “My Mamm?”

  Ella Mae nodded. “Your Dat won out, too . . . which was a mighty gut thing, jah?”

  Marnie sniffed and agreed.

  “I daresay you’ve got some of his fine stubbornness in ya, dearie.”

  For some reason, hearing this made Marnie feel better. “Denki, Ella Mae. I think I needed to come see ya today.”

  “Believe ya did, too, Marnie.”

  Ella Mae rose and brought the teapot over. “I’ve been wondering ’bout your friend Jenny Burns. How’s she doin’?”

  Marnie tittered. “Honestly? I think better than most of us.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “She just seems so settled, despite what she calls ‘some botched attempts’ to do what comes naturally to the womenfolk.”

  “And learnin’ to speak our language?”

  “Inches forward at a time, she likes to say.”

  “How’s her sock darning comin’ along?”

  “Well, she hasn’t sewn any shut this week, she said. I’m only tellin’ ya because you asked . . . not to make fun.” Marnie explained that she felt sure Jenny would keep trying. “She wants to meet Aunt Rebecca’s standards for everything.”

  “Well, that’d be hard for any of us, jah?” Ella Mae was grinning.

  “Ach, for sure. But I’ve never heard her say anything ’bout giving up or turnin’ tail and running home.”

  “If ya don’t give up, you haven’t lost. Tell her that, won’t ya?”

  Marnie smiled. “I’ve always liked that proverb.” She sipped some more tea.

  “I’d hate to see her get discouraged,” Ella Mae added.

  Marnie nodded, feeling exactly the same.

  “Someone whispered she’s got herself a fella already,” Ella Mae said, surprising her.

  “Ach, I really doubt it—she’s not a church member.”

  Ella Mae smiled thinly. “Best not be sayin’ more, then.”

  “But you must!” Marnie said, knowing she could trust Ella Mae. “What do you know . . . and who told ya?”

  “My lips are sealed. See?” Ella Mae pressed her lips tightly together and blinked her little eyes.

  Marnie groaned.

  “Jenny’ll tell ya when she’s ready, jah?”

  Marnie knew better than to ask again. But then, thinking back to seeing Jenny with Cousin Andrew the night Posey had gone missing, she had a glimmer of an idea. Could it be Cousin Andrew might open his heart, even a crack, to let in someone like Jenny?

  Later, when they’d had some delicious finger cakes, Ella Mae gave her Roy’s letter, addressed as Marnie had suggested. “I wouldn’t tell just anyone this, but by the looks of his handwriting, this is one determined young man.” Ella Mae chuckled. “I believe your little ones will be mighty strong willed, too . . . a gut thing, mind you, when they’re molded and shaped for the Lord.”

  “Do ya think it’s a problem he’s not as conservative as we are?”

  “Pity’s sake, Marnie, there’re many kinds of Amish.” Ella Mae waved a wrinkled hand in the air. “Those of us who love Jehovah God worship Him alone, ain’t so?”

  Marnie pondered that as she walked toward home, realizing what the Wise Woman meant. And, unable to wait a minute longer, she tore Roy’s letter open and savored each word, tears threatening as she learned that he was in favor of her moving in with Dan an
d Katie Fisher. And not once did he refer to the Fishers’ Bann.

  That afternoon Jenny did her best to darn another sock, practicing her very lacking skill. She sat with Rebecca in the cheery sewing room, soaking in the warmth from the windows like a cat in a sunbeam.

  But the more she tried, the worse things got, and her pinpricked fingers hurt. I’m fooling myself if I think I’m leaving this sock in better shape than I found it! Still, she was determined. “Do you know of an Amishwoman who can’t darn socks?” she asked Rebecca with a deliberate shake of her head.

  “Well, to be honest, no.”

  Rebecca reached across the table. “Here, let me have a look-see.” She examined the sock this way and that, even lowering her reading glasses to better scrutinize.

  The elongated inspection frustrated Jenny further, and she got up and stood near the window. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “How long have I been here, and I still can’t do this chore?”

  “Well, you do very nicely with other sewing, and your embroidery’s coming along, too.” Rebecca put her glasses back on. “Mustn’t forget that.”

  “But I can’t embroider my way through life here.”

  “Well, you must keep at it.” Rebecca slid the sock and needle across the table. “Mustn’t be too hard on yourself, Jenny. Remember, you haven’t been doin’ this for very long yet.”

  “Some days it seems like it’s been forever.”

  Rebecca’s head bobbed up. “Ach, Jenny . . . you’re discouraged. That’s all.”

  The last thing she wanted to do was return to her chair and keep darning.

  “Try ’n’ relax, all right?”

  Reluctantly, Jenny returned to the table and sat down, leaving the sock where it was. She leaned back and sighed.

  “Just give yourself more time, won’t ya?” Rebecca removed her glasses and wiped her eyes. “I daresay you’re doin’ your best—trust the Lord God.” She stopped for a moment, turning to look out the window. “Don’t forget the Old Ways are worth learnin’, Jenny. I can’t impress that on you enough.” She nodded her head. “Worth their weight in gold.”

  Somewhat encouraged, Jenny reached for the sock and picked up her needle, wanting to keep trying . . . and at more than just this task. And as she began again, she asked Rebecca what she might do to support herself.

  “Ya mean, if you stay single?”

  Jenny nodded.

  “Well, you could embroider some.” Rebecca smiled, glancing over at her. “And ya haven’t cracked any eggs yet, now, have ya?”

  “Maybe I could raise chickens.”

  “Or get some tips from one neighbor up the road—she made out perty well runnin’ a greenhouse. Of course, she rented out her land to an Amish farmer, too.”

  I have no land, Jenny thought, glad she had saved more than a year’s worth of income. She hadn’t known, however, that she’d be so reliant on it. She’d definitely need to make a living of some kind here in Hickory Hollow.

  Rebecca had gone over to see Ella Mae late in the afternoon, leaving Jenny to make supper. But Jenny became distracted with mashing potatoes, forgetting to keep an eye on the creamed chipped beef. By the time she smelled the burning, it was too late. Stopping what she was doing, she turned off the gas and removed the ruined main dish. She carried the smoldering mess to the trash, hoping to get the burn out of the pan before Rebecca returned. If only the scorched smell in the house would dissipate before Samuel came in for the meal.

  I’m losing ground, she thought, aggravated with herself. I’m getting worse instead of better!

  That evening, after a supper of mashed potatoes and reheated stew, Jenny allowed her mind to wander during Bible reading and silent prayers. She needed to write in her journal—she might feel better if she dumped her annoying thoughts . . . got the negativity off her chest.

  Hard as I try, I’m still a failure compared to the other women here. Even the bishop’s school-age daughters can cook better than I can!

  Marnie came by this afternoon, and when I told her about my woes with bread baking, she was very kind, as always, and suggested that I might be trying too hard. But how is that possible?

  Marnie was happier than last time I saw her. I think she has a new lease on life, because her fiancé has given his blessing on her move to Katie and Dan Fisher’s, whenever she’s ready. I can’t wrap my brain around this. Roy must be drifting away from the Amish himself, to encourage this. It’s inconceivable to think my first Amish friend might soon be fancy!

  The Amish teens who do seem more settled closely follow in their parents’ footsteps. Marnie and Naomi seem more interested in exerting their own wills, though. Most adults disapprove, including Rebecca . . . and the bishop and Mary. If Samuel Lapp opened up and spoke his mind, I’m sure he’d be opposed, too. It’s odd how he reminds me of my own father in that way.

  I sometimes wonder if this business with Marnie, especially, has affected me on some level.

  There is much for me to contemplate while Rebecca keeps me busy. To top things off, we’re hosting the Preaching service here on December 16, and there is a long list of chores to accomplish. All the walls must be washed down, the windows cleaned, and Rebecca said at supper tonight that some of the upstairs rooms will need a fresh coat of paint, as well. She announced this while the residual odor of my burned chipped beef was still strong in our noses. My mother and sister would think this is an omen, and maybe it is—at the very least it’s a sign that I need to work harder at reaching my goal.

  Sigh . . . why is it so hard to be Amish?

  Chapter 39

  Jenny didn’t know why she was startled when she got the Saturday mail, especially when Andrew Lapp had said he would write. It was a remarkable experience to read Andrew’s journal-like letter, a chronicling of his daily welding work and his various English and Amish customers. And she anticipated her next visit to the springhouse with her unexpected prayer partner even while she spent time with Naomi at her parents’ house, once Jenny’s chores were finished.

  She considered Andrew’s letter, newsy and interesting. Only slightly romantic. As it should be, she told herself as she leaned over the sink to dig out black spots in a large potato. A committed church member like Andrew would follow the ordinance to a tee.

  She found herself feeling very happy he’d written, choosing to take time for her. And couldn’t help being a little hopeful that courtship might follow someday.

  Jenny experienced a week of fewer bread-baking fiascos, thankful Rebecca was encouraging and even seemed to be warming to her again. Had Rebecca stopped visiting Katie, perhaps?

  This early December morning was exceptionally sunny and not as chilly as previous days. The sun played across the snowy fields, casting regular shadows along the horse fence and nearby trees.

  Jenny was struck with an idea as she stood on the back steps and waved to Rebecca, who left in the family carriage to visit her daughter-in-law Annie, Daniel Fisher’s sister. Samuel, for his part, was hitching up the spring wagon to go help his youngest son, Benjamin, haul a large quantity of feed bags from the nearby mill.

  As Jenny observed the experienced Amishman, she wondered if she dared attempt what she was thinking. Nevertheless, why not practice what she’d repeatedly been taught?

  She waited until Samuel pulled out of the driveway to dress warmly, yanking on boots and a heavy coat and scarf. Then she hurried to the stable and chose her favorite black pony, Josie, and curried her, just as Samuel always did before taking a horse or pony out on the road. She led the pretty young mare down the driveway and tied her to the hitching post before heading back for the cart stored in the upper level of the double-decker barn.

  When she was ready, Jenny followed the same instructions she’d been given for hitching a road horse to the family carriage, thinking this should be a good test of her ability. And without anyone prompting her, either!

  The process took longer than she’d hoped, but Jenny refused to give up as she hooked up the pony
to the cart. I can do this, she told herself, giving Josie a sugar cube for being so patient.

  At long last, when Jenny was ready to take a spin, she double-checked every aspect of the process one more time. Then, smiling at her accomplishment, she untied Josie and brought the driving lines back, climbed into the pony cart—and off she went.

  Annie was busy in her sun-drenched kitchen making egg noodles when Rebecca arrived through the creaky back door. Her dark chestnut brown hair peeked out from beneath her Kapp. “Hullo, Annie dear!”

  “Come on in,” Annie called, her cheeks white with soft dustings of flour. “Well, and it looks like you already are.” She gave a mellow laugh and opened her slender arms to Rebecca, offering a hug. “You’re just in time to help me, if you’d like.”

  “Sure, anytime,” said Rebecca, removing her winter layers. “That’s why I’m here . . . and for the company, too.”

  Cheerful and lovely as always, Annie nodded demurely as she waved Rebecca inside. “Awful nice seein’ ya, Mamm.”

  “You too.”

  They exchanged comments about the bright, sunny day, and how young Daniel was off to school, enjoying first grade. Rebecca wondered but would never inquire why he was still their only child. Thus far.

  She and Annie worked to roll out the stiff, smooth dough onto an old tablecloth. As each layer of rolled dough was complete, they let the noodles continue to dry, turning them over and later cutting them with a sharp butcher knife to make fine strips. Afterward, Rebecca shook the noodles apart so they did not stick together.

  Rebecca had always liked Annie—like a daughter in many ways, and ever so pleasant. No wonder my son was head over heels for her when they started courting, she remembered, smiling even now. Annie was the kind of girl who was just plain good-natured.

  “Mamma’s aunt Miriam isn’t too well these days,” Annie confided. “Mamma says she came to visit her the other day, and Miriam couldn’t remember if she was comin’ to see her or leavin’, the poor thing.”

  “Ach, that is sad. Painful to see, ain’t?”