The Secret Keeper

by Beverly Lewis

  Staring down at her folded hands there where she sat on the bed, Marnie shook her head. “My father chewed me out the other day in the milk house.” She quickly told everything to Jenny, who felt sadder with each word. “I should’ve known better than to spill the beans on myself,” Marnie said as she raised shimmering eyes.

  Jenny didn’t know how to console her but moved to sit next to her, head bowed. “You wanted to tell him where your heart is, jah? Wanted him to understand.”

  “Right. I wasn’t there to ask his blessing. I knew he’d never give that.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Jenny said as Marnie sniffled. “Maybe in time, things will change between you and your father.”

  “I’m not holdin’ my breath.”

  They talked quietly a while longer. Then Marnie asked, “It’s prob’ly none of my business, but do you have a special fella?”

  Jenny frowned. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, not sure I should say.”

  “Why not?” Jenny was astonished.

  “It’s just that Ella Mae said something ’bout it.”

  “The Wise Woman?”

  Marnie glanced at her, smiling. “There is someone, ain’t so?”

  Jenny knew she couldn’t let things go any further now with Andrew. Not with her situation still so up in the air. If Marnie and Naomi—even Katie—weren’t cut out to be Amish, how could she as an Englisher ever hope to belong? She sighed.

  Thankfully, at that moment, Jenny heard Rebecca calling through the door. “Marnie’s family is ready to leave.”

  Marnie reached for Jenny’s hand. “I’d better get goin’.”

  “Keep in touch, okay?”

  Nodding, Marnie wiped her eyes, promising to do just that. “Christmas is comin’ fast now, and I wanted my last days at home to be happy ones.” She sighed as she stood and straightened her pretty white apron. “I really did.”

  “Let’s not give up hope for that.” Jenny rose and joined her, heading down the stairs and out the back door with her dear friend, a lump in her own throat. She closed her eyes for a second in the glare of the sun.

  Marnie gave her a quick hug, whispering in her ear, “I’ll see you again soon.”

  “Zimmlich glei—very soon.” She watched Marnie hurry to the waiting carriage.

  The low buzz of a plane made her glance up, and Jenny remembered the fit she’d thrown as a young girl, about to take her first flight. It struck her, even then, as so very wrong to defy nature—hurtling through space in a canister with wings.

  Sighing now for Marnie, she turned to go back to the house and spotted Emmalyn on the porch in her black woolen shawl, her head cocked just so. When Jenny approached her, she actually smiled.

  “Thanks for bringing Josie back,” Jenny said.

  Emmalyn shrugged. “’Twas nothin’.”

  “And for keeping it to yourself, too,” Jenny added, smiling back at her.

  After the long day, extended by all the visiting that followed that afternoon, Rebecca was glad to get off her feet and sit by the heater stove with Samuel. They’d had their evening Bible reading and prayer, and Jenny had gone upstairs for the night. It was just the two of them, rocking away their cares and keeping toasty warm.

  “’Twas a gut Lord’s Day.” Rebecca looked over at her husband’s relaxed profile, the peppery gray flecks evident in his beard.

  He nodded in rhythm with his hickory rocking chair. “’Twas inspiring to hear the bishop preach on the young folk heedin’ the call of Christ, jah?”

  “Seemed like he was pickin’ on them from where I sat.”

  “Aw, now.”

  “No, seriously, Bishop John’s got it in for the youth.”

  “Well, and for gut reason, ya know.”

  Oh, she knew. “Hate to see Chester Lapp’s family go through what we did with Katie.”

  Samuel shook his head right quick. “But it won’t be anywhere near the same, Rebecca, with Marnie yet to be baptized.”

  She quit talking about it, thinking now might be the time to tell him about Katie’s latest letter.

  “What if we did something different this year for Christmas?” she heard herself say.

  “You mean the boys and their families ain’t comin’ for dinner?”

  “Elam and Annie are goin’ to her folks’.” She paused. “All our sons and their families are welcome, sure . . . but what about our grandson Sammy . . . and his baby sister, Kate?”

  Samuel grimaced. “What do ya mean?”

  “Dan and Katie’s little boy wants nothin’ more than to meet you for Christmas this year. He told his mother so.”

  Samuel pondered that, rubbing his chin and threading his fingers through his beard. “How old would this youngster be now?”

  “Four—and with a hankerin’ to see his Dawdi for the first time.” She held her breath. What will Samuel say?

  “You said that already.” He was either miffed or glib.

  “Ain’t like we’re shunning him,” she added, then waited. He’d have to say something, one way or the other.

  “How do ya know this, Rebecca?” His voice was stern, yet there was also a note of something else. Was it curiosity?

  She told him about Katie’s letter.

  Samuel rocked all the harder and she braced for the whole thing to fall back into her lap. Katie should’ve known better than to get her hopes up. Or poor little Sammy’s, either.

  Rebecca forced her mind away from what she dearly hoped for, trying her best to set her thoughts on today’s main sermon again and how heated Bishop John had been. Not a single head was nodding to sleep during that two-hour sermon, for sure, though the small children had gotten fidgety. Rebecca had passed a dish of crackers to all the families with little ones before going later to fetch a tall glass of cold water for the same children. Then she’d carried up a fresh glass of water for Bishop John Beiler, too, who rarely preached except at weddings and funerals. Today, however, he’d had plenty to say.

  Samuel coughed a little. “Tell Katie that’s all right with me,” he said at last. “And not a word ’bout this to anyone, ya hear?”

  Rebecca tried not to act surprised. “All right,” she replied, her heart hammering happily. “I’ll write her back first thing tomorrow.”

  Or better yet, I’ll tell her in person!

  Chapter 42

  Jenny stood in the utility room at the bishop’s house the following Tuesday morning, hanging up her long coat and scarf. She was uncertain if she ought to enter the kitchen, because Bishop John and Mary were arguing, obviously unaware Jenny was within earshot. She’d come to baby-sit as planned but was mortified to be stuck there eavesdropping.

  “How many young people are we goin’ to push away, John?” Mary asked, her voice pinched.

  “There’s a standard to be upheld under God. You know it as well as I do, dear. The tradition of our forefathers is part of our very foundation” was the unyielding reply.

  “But think ’bout it this way—these are God-fearing youth. Marnie and Naomi have been raised in the faith, just as you said. All they want is to seek God and to read the Scriptures in order to understand for themselves. Times are a-changin’, John. You and I both know it.”

  “Righteousness must be utmost, Mary. Are ya listenin’ to yourself?”

  “You surely realize there are more of our young people who are spiritually hungry.”

  “Jah, I reckoned as much from the preacher’s list.”

  “Well, and there’re even more folk interested in studyin’ the Bible.” Mary no longer sounded desperate but sad. “I can’t even see Katie, and she was my very best friend. It’s been too many years, John. Years!”

  “We’re not talking ’bout the Bann now.”

  “Maybe not, but isn’t it all wrapped up together?” Mary said, a catch in her voice. “I daresay it is.”

  There was a long pause; then Mary said more quietly, “If I may be so bold, John, I wonder sometimes if you put the severe shun on Katie Lap
p because she stood you up on your wedding day. Ach, but is that possible, love?”

  The bishop sighed audibly. “Mary . . . I . . .”

  Another pause ensued.

  “Have you held a grudge against Katie—and Dan, too—all these years?”

  There was no response from the bishop.

  “This is all I’ll say about this, John. But honestly, it might be time to let go of past hurts, ain’t so?” The words were brave, but Mary sounded so meek in the way she spoke to her husband.

  The sound of chair legs screeching against the floor made Jenny jump. Apparently the discussion was over. She wondered when she could make her entrance without giving away that she’d overheard them. Or should she simply leave and come back later?

  Too late—she heard footsteps coming and realized the bishop was heading for the utility room. Oh no! Her moment of escape had passed. Her teeth were clenched, heart pounding . . . and just that quick, she was standing face-to-face with the man of God.

  “Well, I forgot you were comin’ today,” John Beiler said, leaning over to grab his brown work coat. He stood up, a quick smile on his face. “And I’m mighty glad ya did, Jenny.”

  She stood there awkwardly, waiting for him to continue, wearing what must have looked like a ridiculous kind of smile.

  He gave her the most scrutinizing stare as he leisurely buttoned his coat. Then he said something about a “peculiar sighting” last Sunday evening. “I won’t say who saw her, but it seems Rebecca was headed somewhere in the direction of Dan and Katie Fisher’s place, and in an awful big hurry.”

  She took a small breath and slowly let it out. So Rebecca has visited Katie again. . . .

  Jenny remembered following Rebecca through the shadows toward the very doorstep of her shunned daughter’s home . . . and Rebecca’s heartbreaking plea for silence later that same night. She’s a loving mother . . . how can she be expected to stay away from her only daughter?

  Jenny nearly gasped with the weight of her knowledge. Was this the moment of truth?

  John Beiler took a step closer, his words falling with slow deliberation. “If you know something ’bout Rebecca, I’d expect you to tell me.” His eyes were so piercing, she stepped back slightly.

  Does he know? Jenny swallowed hard, wishing she might keep her secret, to defend poor Rebecca. Yet how could she do so and fulfill the conditions of her Proving?

  Lord, please help me. . . .

  Unexpectedly, she heard a giggle and Emily appeared in the doorway, her blond hair braided all around her petite head. “Aendi Jenny,” she said, lifting her arms up.

  Jenny leaned down to pick her up and squeezed her tight. Had Mary sent her? Emily wrapped her arms around Jenny’s neck and hugged her back, jabbering in Deitsch.

  The bishop locked eyes with Jenny for a second, then headed out the back door toward the barn. He’s testing me. Jenny was certain.

  In order to succeed in her Proving, Jenny must confess what she knew—which would betray her hostess’s secret and trust. What a horrid quandary!

  She carried Emily into the warm kitchen. Mary’s face was crimson as she placed more Cheerios on Anna’s high chair tray, but she didn’t look at Jenny. “Looks like you’re right on time, Jenny.” Mary came to give Emily a kiss in Jenny’s arms. “This one’s been anxiously waitin’ for ya.”

  “We’ll have fun together,” Jenny said, feeling jittery. She set Emily down at the table near Mary Mae, who was doing a maze from a book of activities.

  Mary gathered up her purse and a carryall, still not making eye contact. “‘Jenny, Jenny,’ is nearly all Emily talks ’bout these days.”

  Forcing another smile for sweet Emily’s sake, Jenny slipped her arm around the little girl, angry at the bishop for putting her on the spot, and upset at Rebecca for asking her to promise.

  She worried for her own and dear Rebecca’s future. What will happen to her?

  “Is something wrong, Rebecca?” her husband asked later that week while they dressed for bed.

  “Well, I wonder if I shouldn’t have told Eli and Benjamin that Dan and Katie are comin’ for Christmas dinner.”

  “Why’s that?” Samuel pulled on his blue corduroy bathrobe, his face anxious. Surely he suspected something.

  “They’re concerned ’bout it.”

  “What the bishop’ll say if he gets wind, ya mean?”

  She nodded and sat on the side of the bed. “Oh, Samuel, this is one sorry situation.”

  “I’m beginning to think the same thing. I mean, if a man can’t grant his own grandson’s Christmas wish, what sort of Dawdi is he?”

  Rebecca was relieved to hear it.

  “Er dutt mir leed!” Samuel said, referring to the bishop.

  “I’m sorry for him, too . . . in a peculiar sort of way.”

  Samuel got into bed and propped himself up with a pillow before leaning his head back. “Kumme, Rebecca, let’s have a word of prayer ’bout this. Look to Gott to work things out.”

  “I don’t think it’d be the worst thing that ever happened if Dan and Katie and their babes are the only ones at our table Christmas Day.”

  “And Jenny, too, don’t forget.”

  “Jah, and Jenny,” she said, smiling at Samuel.

  “She’s almost like family, ya know.”

  Rebecca couldn’t help but agree. “It’d be so nice for her to meet our long-lost girl, ain’t?”

  Samuel coaxed her next to him, patting the side of the bed. “I was just now thinkin’ the same thing.” Once she was situated there, rutching around to get her pillows plumped just so, he reached for her hand.

  Thank the dear Lord in heaven. Rebecca sighed as her husband began to pray.

  Chapter 43

  Jenny slogged through the next few days before Christmas. She had never attended more fun-loving “frolics and doin’s” in her life—cookie exchanges and pie-baking bees galore, as well as helping the bishop’s youngest children make colorful paper chains to decorate the windows and string across the doorjambs. She lost herself for a full week in a party atmosphere that seemed only more wonderful because it lacked the razzle-dazzle of the modern world. And each night, she wrote about the day’s quaint and meaningful activities in her journal.

  She also wrote about the bishop’s stern remark—and how it was eating her alive.

  In lieu of gifts, she sent pretty cards to her family, with long handwritten letters. And two days before Christmas, she received a store-bought card in the mail from Andrew. He’d written at the bottom about a special gift planned for her, wanting to know the best day and time to give it. Sometime alone with you, Jenny, just the two of us. Maybe we could meet at the springhouse on Second Christmas, instead of waiting till Thursday?

  She hadn’t given her answer yet—she felt nervous about it, although she cherished every spare minute he offered, and his letters, too, which came more frequently. And now this exquisite card. I don’t deserve this . . . now especially.

  On the afternoon of Christmas Eve, she helped Rebecca kill the fatted goose. Together they worked to pluck the feathers and clean it “right gut,” as Rebecca liked to say. When the bird was ready for stuffing and baking, they carried it down to the springhouse in a sealed container and set it in the ice-cold water inside. Early tomorrow, they’d make Rebecca’s tasty dressing and get it all set for baking.

  There was plenty of opportunity for dessert making, and Jenny assisted Rebecca with tapioca pudding, bread-crumb pudding, and two kinds of pies—pecan and Dutch apple—careful to measure the ingredients, hoping not to spoil a single part of tomorrow’s feast. She had much to make up for.

  The intent look on Rebecca’s face made Jenny realize again how very important this meal and the reunion were to her. Samuel, too, had talked of removing the hard wooden benches and bringing over some more comfortable chairs from the empty Dawdi Haus. Of course, a separate table would be necessary for their shunned family members, in keeping with the Ordnung.

  Will the bisho
p find out—and then what?

  Jenny was experiencing some unanticipated emotions, as well—stressed on the one hand, yet also wanting everything to be perfectly polished and prepared for Katie, whose room she had inhabited all these weeks now.

  As soon as the breakfast dishes were cleared off and washed and dried Christmas morning, Jenny laid out a green table cloth for the meal. The day thus far had been a far cry from the holiday of her upbringing, but she had not missed the mountain of gifts beneath a shining artificial tree, or the mess of wrapping paper and ribbons piled high in the corner.

  Instead, Samuel had talked of the Christ child, the dear Lord Jesus, and had taken time to read the Gospel of Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth. “‘And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn,’” Samuel read, his voice gentling on the last line.

  Jenny tried not to tear up as she considered the Savior who’d come to offer redemption. She listened along with the Lapps’ eldest son, Elam, and the cousins who had come as usual to help Samuel with the morning milking. The fact that they had stayed this long was a treat for Samuel and Rebecca, who knew the men’s families were waiting for them back home.

  Jenny hoped with all of her heart that it was the start of an extra-special day for them. And she prayed the same, trusting that Bishop John wouldn’t see the car parked in the driveway, or hear eventual rumors and spoil things.

  Families are precious. . . .

  Everything was ready for Daniel and Katie’s arrival with the children, including a small wrapped gift on Sammy’s and Kate Marie’s dinner plates. Rebecca felt her cheeks flush, yet refused to be on pins and needles over this longed-for reunion.