The Secret Keeper

by Beverly Lewis

  “I hope you don’t mind my just showing up.” He settled into the driver’s seat and started the ignition. “But there wasn’t any way to let you know.”

  There’s always the mail.

  “So why did you call my mom, anyway?” she asked as he turned the car around and drove slowly up the road.

  “It’s a long story, Jenny.”

  “Try me.”

  He hesitated for a moment; then a look of resignation crossed his face. “I’ve missed you, okay?”

  She was a sitting duck. Here was the man she had adored and loved to laugh with—and oh, how they’d laughed, enjoying every moment together. She’d wanted it to last for a lifetime.

  She spotted the crystal praying hands hanging on the rearview mirror, a birthday gift from her. He kept it. . . .

  “Jenny . . . I was wrong about us. I’ve been kicking myself for almost two years.”

  “Kyle, please.”

  “Is that the phone booth?” he said, pulling the car over in front of the shack.

  She turned in her seat. “Why now, after all this time?”

  He smiled. “Why not?”

  That’s his best answer?

  Go home, she was tempted to say.

  “I’m not asking you to give up your dream, Jenny.”

  No, she thought. I’m giving that up on my own. Her cheek twitched.

  “Want to get something to eat?” He touched her arm. “I’d really like to spend some time with you.”

  Her heart was in her throat. “What then?” It was hard enough seeing him again, but hearing him talk like this threatened to reopen old wounds.

  “We can catch up on old times,” he suggested.

  “Why?”

  Kyle looked exasperated. “Fine. You want me to just say it? I thought maybe we could talk about us. How things used to be.”

  She was dumbfounded. “Isn’t it too late for that? You left me, remember?” She realized her response sounded anything but meek and mild. She was definitely not Rebecca Lapp. “I mean, we were together one minute, and you were gone the next. That quick.” She wouldn’t tell him how long it took her to recover.

  “You were changing so radically, Jenny.” He shook his head. “I just flipped out, okay? I don’t deny it.” He said he’d pondered everything and no longer cared anymore how she dressed. “I respect your Plain yearnings. None of that matters anymore.”

  She was actually relieved he hadn’t made fun of her Amish clothes, though she didn’t know why she even cared when she was leaving the People.

  Jenny looked over at the phone shed, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. She needed to breathe, to be outside. “I have to make a call before it gets too late.”

  “I’ll wait for you,” he said.

  Now he’ll wait. She bit her lip at the sarcasm.

  Nodding, she opened the car door and headed around the brushwood to the phone. Inside, she dialed the number and reached a clerk for the bus company. She asked for their bus schedule to Connecticut and received unfortunate news. Due to weather delays in Philadelphia, the earliest available seat was the day after tomorrow. She exhaled in frustration, and then the thought occurred to her: What if Kyle drove me back? He was heading there, anyway.

  But would that lead him on?

  She thanked the woman and hung up. Returning to the car, she spotted Kyle’s expectant face and determined to nip all hope in the bud. “Let me say this just for the record.”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t see us getting back together.”

  He flinched. “I don’t blame you—”

  “But . . . if you want to do me a really big favor . . .”

  Without missing a beat, he nodded. “Say the word.”

  She asked him where he was staying, and he told her the Bird-in-Hand Family Inn on the Old Philadelphia Pike, not far from here.

  Jenny made her request and Kyle seemed pleased. Too pleased. Then his eyes squinted nearly shut. “Wait a minute, why are you going home?”

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow.” She directed him back to Samuel and Rebecca’s, where they parked on the road near the mailbox at the end of the long driveway. “Tomorrow morning, seven o’clock. Please don’t be late.”

  “I’ll be here,” he promised.

  Jenny saw him wave through the window, and she hurried up the lane to Rebecca. It was time to fulfill her promise to help make the noon meal.

  Chapter 46

  When Jenny returned from the phone shanty, she and Rebecca kept busy at their separate work spaces in the kitchen, Jenny glancing every now and then at her friend and hostess. She had no idea how to say what she must.

  Once they had the large chicken potpie nearly ready to place in the oven, Rebecca began to talk about the coming snowstorm, going on about how Samuel had complained of his knees aching something awful yesterday from his rheumatism. “He seems to know nearly right on the dot just when a storm’ll hit,” Rebecca was saying.

  Jenny listened, still surprised at Kyle’s appearance. Was it a sign from the Lord? After all, he had always been a prayerful man.

  Jenny knew she couldn’t put off the moment any longer—it was time to tell Rebecca that she was going home. “Rebecca, I want to tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” she said. “You’ve given me so much.” Her voice broke and she paused in dicing apples for a Waldorf salad. “I’ll never forget.”

  Rebecca stopped what she was doing. “Ach, Jenny, what’re ya sayin’?”

  “I’m leaving Hickory Hollow tomorrow . . . with an old friend of mine.” She sighed heavily.

  The blood drained from Rebecca’s face. “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t see how I can meet the expectations of the Proving . . . not now. Not when I must eventually confess what I know about your visits to Katie.” She bowed her head. “And I don’t feel good about betraying that, considering all you’ve done for me.”

  Rebecca was quiet for a long while, her eyes downcast. When she finally spoke, she merely nodded her head. “If you must, then go with the Good Lord’s blessing.”

  “Denki” was all Jenny could say.

  The two of them remained awkwardly silent until they heard the sound of the back door screech open and Samuel tromp in.

  Rebecca looked devastated during the noon meal, and Jenny cringed all through it. If only things could be different! she thought miserably. The last thing I want to do is leave here.

  After dishes were done and there was still no conversation between them, Jenny escaped to her room to write Andrew Lapp a letter, which she gave to him when they met at the springhouse pond that evening. He accepted it but was clearly taken aback by her not wanting to stay and pray as planned.

  “When you read the letter, I hope you’ll understand,” she told him, her voice quivering.

  His eyes held hers, his expression concerned. “Wait, Jenny . . . you seem—”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry . . . I really can’t talk about it.”

  He nodded and reached for her hand. “Something’s wrong.”

  She looked down at their entwined fingers. “Jah, everything’s wrong, Andrew.” Her voice cracked and she reluctantly slipped her hand away.

  “I’d like to talk to you,” he said. “Will ya stay awhile?”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I can never succeed in my Proving. It’s not possible.”

  “Why do you say so?” He moved closer. “I don’t understand.”

  She sniffled. “I just can’t . . . not without jeopardizing the peace of someone I care deeply about.”

  “Is it Rebecca?”

  Andrew’s words shocked her. How could he possibly know?

  She ignored his question. “I’m not the type of person who could—” Her voice broke and she had to pause a moment before continuing. “Please, will you trust me when I say this is for the best?”

  “That’s what’s special about you, Jenny. And I appreciate you not sayin’ anything amiss ’bout R
ebecca, too.” He reached for her hand again. “You’re ever so trustworthy.”

  She was unable to choke down the lump in her throat. I need to leave now, before I come to care for you even more than I do.

  “Please read my letter, all right? Good-bye, Andrew.” And with that, Jenny fled, holding back her tears as she headed back to the farmhouse.

  Jenny could not sleep again that night. She gave up trying to rest at all and instead wrote yet another letter—this one to dearest Marnie. In it, she avoided revealing Rebecca’s devastating secret but told her friend she would miss her very much and hoped that she and Roy would be happily married next autumn.

  I’d like to stay in touch, she wrote, giving Marnie her parents’ phone number and street address. Your friend always, Jenny Burns.

  ———

  Rebecca lay wide-awake, listening to Samuel’s irregular snoring, forcing her mind toward happier thoughts: little Sammy’s visit. Such an adorable child, sitting like a wee angel on his Dawdi’s knee at the table all that while on Christmas Day. It was as if he’d intended to take his meal right there with Samuel. And if she wasn’t mistaken, Daniel’s blueberry eyes had glistened about then. Samuel’s too. And then again tonight, when she told him that Jenny Burns was leaving in the morning. He must’ve steeled himself, poor man, unbuttoning his shirt without speaking, his actions deliberate and methodical. Then he’d gone to kneel at his bedside and remained there for the longest time, his heart obviously broken.

  Like hers.

  Marnie arrived at Uncle Samuel’s back door with her handmade wall hanging Thursday morning. She could hardly wait to present this particular gift to her friend and could not believe her ears when Aunt Rebecca told her Jenny was gone. “Left just an hour ago or so,” Rebecca said. “She said to give you this.”

  Marnie stared at the letter her aunt handed to her, biting her lip. Did Jenny leave because of me?

  She had no right to protest, did she? After all, she, too, was packed and ready to move. But to think her friend hadn’t told her in person or bothered to say good-bye. Why?

  “Denki,” she told Rebecca, deciding to take the wall hanging home with her and wondering if she might simply mail it to Jenny.

  “Won’t ya come in for some hot cocoa, get warmed up?” Rebecca’s eyes pleaded.

  Marnie accepted and removed her boots and coat before following Rebecca into the warm, inviting kitchen.

  They talked around Jenny’s leaving, never addressing it outright, but Marnie could see Aunt Rebecca was greatly troubled.

  Jenny was so exhausted she slept for the first two hours while Kyle drove. When she awakened, she was startled at the sight of her own clothing . . . the English outfit she’d worn to Hickory Hollow back in October. In the haze of waking up, she’d nearly erased the last two months.

  She wondered if Rebecca would be surprised that she’d packed all of her Amish dresses and aprons. But of course, she’d left Rebecca’s black shawl and outer bonnet, and Katie’s former things. The room she’d shared with Katie’s memory was fast fading in her own mind—or was she simply pushing it aside . . . letting the time in Lancaster County die away to nothing?

  “You’re tired,” Kyle said when she glanced over at him there in his navy blue pants and tennis shoes.

  She nodded. “It’s been a couple of rough nights.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  Must I?

  “Let’s talk about you, Kyle.”

  He smiled, eager to do so. She learned that he’d continued to work as a computer tech at the same company in Hartford but was thinking of buying a large parcel of land near Frankfort, Kentucky. She wondered if this was to impress her. But before she could ask, he volunteered that he’d been thinking of paring down to live a simpler life. “Besides, who wants to live in fear of the national grid going haywire?” He laughed.

  “And on that note, let me help out with the gas,” she offered as they stopped off to refuel and grab some snacks.

  “Don’t be silly. The trip’s on me.”

  When they returned to the car and got back on I-95, she asked about her family and was given an ambiguous response. This brought it all back—there wasn’t anything to tell, as usual—and she dreaded the thought of going home.

  He asked where she would live, since her mother had mentioned she’d left her condo and job. “Well, if my parents haven’t disowned me, there’s always the guest cottage behind the main house.” Like a detached Dawdi Haus, she thought, wondering how Ella Mae Zook would take the news that she had left so hastily. And poor Marnie, too . . .

  She asked Kyle if she could use his cell phone to call the antique shop in Essex. She wanted to see if she might work part-time, perhaps, maybe even eventually get her job back. Not that she expected the owner to agree, but if there was a chance, she preferred to work there. With old things cushioning me, she thought, picturing dear Rebecca sitting in her sewing room on her grandmother’s cane chair, watching the snow fall.

  Does she despise me?

  Chapter 47

  The snow became heavier the farther north Kyle drove, and Jenny prayed silently for God’s protection. Kyle brought up the church he was still attending, mentioning a men’s prayer breakfast group he enjoyed. He asked her about the Amish church, but she skirted the question. The reality of what she’d done, leaving Hickory Hollow so suddenly and without giving anyone but Rebecca or Andrew a heads-up, became increasingly more painful as the hours passed. And in spite of Kyle’s attempt to make her think he wanted to live a tranquil, uncomplicated life, he continued to talk about his job and Hartford. She knew he must care for her a lot to want to give that up to move to a big spread of land in Kentucky. It was sweet and she appreciated him for it, but she needed time to get her head straight.

  “I have an idea,” he said when they were closing in on the turnoff for Essex. “Let’s catch the train in New Haven and go to Manhattan for New Year’s Eve.”

  They’d enjoyed this excitement-charged event once before, and the following month he’d taken her home to meet his parents, close to Valentine’s Day.

  He looked over at her, beaming. “So . . . what do you say?”

  Jenny knew the trip would merely be for old time’s sake, because nothing could take her and Kyle back to those days. If anything, he was attempting to reignite something romantic between them, which meant everything would have to be on a brand-new footing. But for him to even suggest a trip to the Big Apple confirmed for her that they were out of sync, and she told him so. “I’d rather not,” she said politely. “I’m sure you can understand.”

  He nodded, but she could tell by his eyes he was disappointed.

  Hickory Hollow had altered Jenny forever.

  Jenny’s mother was astonished to see her, and her dad actually stood up and came over to greet her as Jenny walked in the front entrance. They said absolutely she could stay in the small guesthouse until she got settled elsewhere. And they went with her to the living room and sat there, managing some awkward small talk and getting caught up a little. Jenny asked about each of them—and about her sister and brother—and soon the conversation centered on Mom’s various upcoming social events . . . and Cameron’s “pretty new girlfriend.” No mention of the former one, or the child belonging to the new girl.

  After a half hour or so, Dad rose and came over to kiss the top of Jenny’s head. “Good to see you again, kiddo.” He mentioned having a report to finish and disappeared into his library office.

  Her mother lasted somewhat longer, until she remembered she needed to pick out a formal gown from her wardrobe upstairs for her next big function. “Come with me,” she said, coaxing with her eyes. “Help me choose it, won’t you, dear?”

  Seldom had Jenny been invited into the vast walk-in closet—“the wardrobe paradise,” as Mom had once called it. Shoes and purses were lined up according to color and style—casual, day wear, and evening wear. While staring at the abundant options, Jenny thought of how the old Amish h
ouses didn’t even have closets—just a row of wooden wall pegs.

  Even though she craved some alone time, overwhelmed by her mother’s astonishing passion for opulence and excess, Jenny made herself stay. She wanted to show interest and attempt to connect. And after far longer than Jenny hoped it might take, she confirmed her mother’s choice of a gown, which brought a smile from Mom. It was important, Jenny now knew, to demonstrate how much she cared. Had she always held her family at arm’s length? Was she partly at fault for the distance between them all these years?

  Later, when she’d patiently waited for Mom to choose her accessories, Jenny asked permission to go to the large guest room closet, where she’d left behind a few of her clothes. Then, needing some air, Jenny borrowed one of her mother’s casual jackets and walked down to her former workplace to talk with her friend, the owner, who said she’d gotten her voicemail, and yes, she could offer Jenny twenty or so hours a week to start.

  Strolling along the lovely main street, Jenny looked forward to getting her bearings in Essex again, needing to put the hapless situation in Lancaster County behind her. She wondered most of all if Andrew had read her letter. Did he think poorly of her? She was actually glad she’d stayed long enough at the springhouse to explain herself so that she hadn’t appeared to simply vanish . . . as she had initially from home.

  When Jenny returned to her parents’, her hair was white with fluffy snowflakes. Mom came into the large entryway to meet her for the second time—and she rather liked the attention. “Your Amish friend Marnie Lapp called a few minutes ago. You just missed her, dear.” Evidently Marnie wanted Jenny to call her sometime this weekend and had given the number for the phone shanty. “She said you can leave a voice message if she’s not there to pick up.”

  “Did she say what time I should call?”

  Mom smiled brightly. “You know, I believe she did. After supper on Saturday night—yes, that’s what it was.”

  “Denki . . . er, thanks.”