Secret, The

by Beverly Lewis

  She thought again of Henry, who was the most handsome of all the fellows she’d known. So much so, she sometimes pinched herself. Why did he pick me?

  She had been told by several young men that she was pretty. “Mighty pleasing, in fact,” Yonnie had once said right to her face during one of the three short evenings he had gone walking with Grace last year, before Henry had asked her out riding. Such compliments were foreign to the Plain way . . . leaving room for vanity to grow.

  She had to smile as she recalled Yonnie’s peculiar ways. Even then, he’d never bothered to take a horse or courting buggy to Singings or other youth gatherings; they’d walked everywhere. Never had she gotten more exercise in her life. Grace had sometimes thought that if the Lancaster bishops ever got wind of it, they might want to encourage this rather irregular way of courting—perhaps it might keep young folk more attentive to the youth in their own church district.

  Plenty of stories floated around about young men who were sweet on several girls, so she supposed Yonnie wasn’t unusual in taking his time to choose. And from what Mammi Adah had once hinted about Mamma’s own courting days, Grace wondered if Yonnie and her own mother had something in common.

  Dear Mamma . . .

  Grace stepped out of the tub and dressed, then wrapped her hair in a towel. She opened the door, nearly bumping into Adam, who stood right outside. “Ach, you scared me . . . for goodness’ sake!”

  He grinned, his sleepy eyes meeting hers.

  “Time to rise and shine.” She moved away.

  “I’ve risen . . . just not shinin’ yet. ’Twas a rough night in the sheep barn.” He wandered in and shut the door, and she heard the water running for his shave. Then, nearly as quickly, the door opened and he poked his head out. “Someone’s a year older, and it sure ain’t me!” With a sleepy-sounding chuckle, he again closed the door.

  Grace felt warmed by her brother’s humor as she rushed through the kitchen and sitting room toward the center hallway, making her way to the stairs. She flew to her room, needing to towel dry her hair before winding it into a bun. Letting it down long past her waist, she was glad it wasn’t as thick and hard to untangle as Becky’s or even Mandy’s, who had the prettiest color she’d ever seen—like sun-kissed strawberries and harvested wheat all mixed together. Her sister certainly stood out in a crowd. Years ago, when Mandy was only fourteen, Mamma had complained about the number of times Mandy had sneaked away to Singings, hoping to pass herself off as older. “All in harmless jest,” Mandy had assured them when she’d been caught. Still, both Mamma and Dat had given her a good talking-to.

  Even though Mandy presently had several nice fellows interested in her, Grace wasn’t entirely sure whether her sister cared for any of them, or vice versa. She only knew what she’d observed at Singings, where the boys sought Mandy out. Her sister’s popularity was no secret, but despite her cheerful birthday greeting, Mandy’s pensive brown eyes revealed an uneasiness. One Grace had observed often lately.

  She dealt with an uneasiness of her own. Life just felt so unpredictable. Between Dat and Mamma, especially. As much as she wished they’d be more content with each other, she’d seen similar signs of aloofness in Becky’s parents. She’d begun to worry that many married couples were equally distant.

  I’d like something far better . . . if I ever marry.

  When she heard Mamma cooking downstairs, Grace hurried back down, aware of the tantalizing smell of chocolate as she came to the landing. Can it be? She went through the sitting room, to the kitchen.

  Seeing her, Mamma quickly attempted to hide the package of unsweetened chocolate.

  “Gut mornin’,” said Grace, trying not to smile too big.

  “You weren’t s’posed to sneak up on me,” Mamma said, a sparkle in her eye. Gone was the sadness of the days before.

  “I sure like your chocolate waffles.”

  Mamma gave a nod, her eyes still on Grace. “I made some peach delight for you to take with you to work, for your lunch today.”

  Grace was relieved that her mother was sounding—and acting—more like her old self.

  “That’ll be ever so tasty. Denki, Mamma.”

  So, Mandy was right—surprises a-plenty!

  It was midmorning when Grace glanced up from the cans she was shelving and spied the top of a man’s head. Rising to her tiptoes, she was startled to see Henry Stahl entering the store, his light brown hair combed ever so neatly.

  She looked down at her hands and wondered what to do with the tins of tea. And why on earth was she shaking so?

  Quickly placing the cans on the shelf out of order to be free of them, she moved down to the end of the aisle, near a display of the B family of vitamins. Her heart sped up as she watched him move through the store.

  Of all things, he’s come to see me here!

  “Oh, Grace . . . there you are.” He glanced about, his eyes darting nervously. Standing there, she couldn’t help wondering why he’d worn his for-good black trousers and vest for this unexpected visit. All that was missing from his regular Sunday Preaching attire was his thin black bow tie.

  “What a nice surprise,” she said softly.

  He inhaled and straightened to his full height, squaring his shoulders—a tall man at six feet two. “I’m here to say happy birthday.” He leaned closer and, lowering his voice, said, “Some-thin’s waiting for you . . . in the buggy.” He moved his head slightly toward the door. “All right?”

  Oh, this was beyond her expectations!

  She glanced toward the counter and saw the manager give her a quick nod. “If it’s just for a minute.”

  Henry’s grin made her blush even more.

  Outside, he led her around to the other side of the buggy, where they could escape the prying eyes of the other clerks. She was mighty sure if she glanced at the store window, Ruthie and the others would be watching. “I’ve got a present for ya.” He raised the lap blanket and there, beneath it, was an unwrapped box with the words chime clock printed on it.

  “Goodness, Henry!” She couldn’t believe her eyes. A young man didn’t give his girl a gift like this unless he was on the verge of proposing marriage.

  Grace’s heart flew into her throat, and for a moment she had trouble gathering her thoughts.

  “I’d be happy to open it for you.” He reached for the box, turning it around to show her the picture of a beautiful golden clock with moving chimes encased in glass.

  “No . . . let’s keep it all wrapped up and safe.” She shook her head as she looked at the picture of the lovely clock and then up at him. “It’s ever so perty. I can’t begin to say—”

  He reached for her hand, the first time ever. Oh goodness, the feel of his warm, callused fingers made her smile right back at him.

  She was suddenly too aware of the daylight. Had they ever been so close on their nighttime rides? She was quite sure they hadn’t. But she liked the way their fingers entwined and being able to look into his gentle brown eyes. Well, up . . . up into them, as he was at least a half foot taller.

  “Denki . . . I really like the clock, Henry,” she said, still feeling awkward about anyone’s witnessing their affection.

  His eyes lingered on her. “You have a place for it?”

  She paused, wondering what would be most appropriate to say. “Well, more than likely, it’ll go in my room.”

  Till later . . .

  He fell silent, looking down at her, more serious again.

  “I’ll hope to see it, then . . . one day.” His face lit up.

  She thrilled to his words. So he was going to shine his flashlight on her window and come calling. If he did, they would not remain alone in her room for more than a few minutes, as Mamma had always urged her and Mandy to entertain serious beaus in the kitchen, near the heat of the corner stove. Other families allowed courting couples to spend hours talking in the girl’s room. Yet even as some church districts encouraged such activity, others frowned on it. Such distinctions in the Ordnung from
church to church could be ever so confusing. Grace was glad she’d grown up in this particular district, where caution in courting was urged and where folk spoke openly about the Lord, even offering prayers aloud at times.

  She suspected she knew the reason why there was an emphasis on pure motives and holy living in their house church, which met every other Sunday. But she wouldn’t give those rumors about other youth another thought. Not on this, her special day.

  “Henry . . . I’m more than pleased. Truly, I am.” She scarcely knew what to say to open his heart wider, if that was even possible.

  He nodded and smiled warmly.

  Glancing toward the store, she explained that her clock was ticking. Then she suppressed a laugh—that had not come out at all the way she’d meant it! “Ach, I hope you understand what I’m tryin’ to say.”

  Again, he nodded. His eyes were merry, but he said nothing. Oh, how she would love to hear him laugh heartily.

  Awkwardly, Henry climbed into his black open buggy and picked up the reins. “Have a nice day, Grace.”

  She blushed as she waved good-bye and returned to the store. The other girls attempted to keep from grinning but failed miserably. Ruthie was the worst of them, too cheerful and trying hard to bite back a smile. Surely every one of them knew that it was her soon-to-be-intended—her handsome Henry—who’d just visited.

  chapter

  nine

  Grace counted the hours till she could head home, still delighted by Henry’s visit and his generous gift. She couldn’t possibly know when he might drop the chime clock off at the house. Since he wasn’t one to make a spectacle, she doubted it would be in the daylight.

  To contain her excitement, she kept busy with her store inventory list, documenting each item among all the varieties of food supplements and arranging them in alphabetical order. She smiled when she came to zinc, an essential mineral for building a strong immune system. It also helped reduce acne, according to Ruthie, who’d struggled with pimples—“too much chocolate,” she’d admitted, though after taking zinc for three months, her complexion now looked as clear as Grace’s.

  Mamma often said, “You are what you eat.” Grace considered the kinds of fried foods and soda pop the Spangler girls preferred, yet they had perfect complexions. Did that alone refute Mamma’s words?

  Grace was not overly strict about her diet, as some were who now advocated eating only vegetables, grains, and legumes. “Rabbit chow,” Adam had jokingly said when she told him about some of the health fads making the rounds.

  Thinking of vegetables, Grace missed helping with the gardens as much as she always had. The smell of freshly plowed soil was invigorating . . . that and deciding where to plant the various vegetables. She loved spending early morning hours weeding and harvesting a good variety of produce to eat, sell, and put up for the winter. Since starting to work at Eli’s, she’d largely had to assign the weeding and tending of her herb garden to Mandy, though sometimes Becky came over to help on Grace’s days off.

  All the hot, humid hours of hoeing and watering rows of lettuce, snap beans, radishes, tomatoes, and squash were also times of laughter. But Mamma wasn’t usually the one smiling—not lately. Oh, Grace could see that she attempted to enjoy herself and enter into the fun, but when all was said and done, Mamma seemed to hold back.

  Presently, Grace moved on to the next shelf and began to alphabetize the many kinds of herbs, beginning with alfalfa, aloe, angelica, and anise. She refused to think about dismaying things, especially on such a fine day. Fretting over bygones had never proven to be helpful. Besides, Mammi Adah said dwelling on the past could become obsessive, even destructive.

  Today, however, Grace had awakened to birdsong and brilliant blue skies—such a bright way to begin the day. The birds had come right up to the feeders she and Mandy had placed in strategic spots around the back and side yards. Avid bird watchers, the whole family enjoyed the robins, finches, blue jays, and chickadees that found sanctuary close to their house, though it was Mamma who loved observing them most of all, especially from the back stoop. Her favorite was the graybrown mourning dove, which produced multiple offspring each season. Mamma had taught her children to listen for the fluttering whistle its wings made when taking flight. “But only the male makes the mournful-sounding call,” her mother had said.

  Recently there had been a good amount of rain, and robins could be seen searching for worms, making their songs even more plentiful. Or so Grace liked to think. Considering how the rain had greened the grazing land for Dat’s sheep, she was doubly thankful for the ample moisture.

  Grace had never questioned why her father was one of only a handful of Amish in the area who wasn’t a dairy farmer. An exceptionally private man, her father’s dawn-to-dusk approach to raising sheep earned him admiration from other farmers. Grace liked to observe his interaction with other men, because she gleaned more insight into her own father’s thoughts than when he engaged in most family conversations. His tongue just seemed to loosen up as Grace listened in sheer amazement.

  Now she’d come to the G herbs, including ginseng—one of Mammi Adah’s favorites. She continued lining up the bottles in perfect order, hoping all would go well this evening. Secretly she once more pondered Henry’s visit. Of all things, coming here!

  When it was time to leave for home, Grace spotted her younger brother, Joe, waiting in Dat’s buggy in the parking lot. Joe waved to her, a piece of straw dangling from his mouth as he sat on the right side of the family carriage. He often came to pick her up, relishing the freedom of driving, as if impatient for his own courting buggy once he turned sixteen next year.

  The afternoon had been rather mild, with only the slightest hint of a breeze. She glimpsed through the stately trees a buildup of dark clouds in the west. Tossing her purse on the seat, she hopped into the carriage and noticed her favorite horse hitched to it. “Nice ya brought Willow,” she said, smiling.

  “Well, it was either her or Sassy, ’cause Dat’s gone to the blacksmith with the new mare. And Adam put his foot down on usin’ his horse.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Said he needed to run a last-minute errand.” Joe put on a straight face and looked back at the road.

  “Wouldn’t have anythin’ to do with tonight, would it?”

  Joe didn’t flinch. “Why, what’s goin’ on?”

  “Oh, you . . . don’t ya know?”

  Still keeping his face forward, he said, “You speaketh in riddles, Gracie.”

  Stifling a laugh, she turned to look at the landscape. She was ever so sure Joe and Mandy and Adam, too, were all in cahoots.

  A sudden rumble of thunder caught her attention, and she leaned forward to survey the ominous sky. “Looks like a storm’s comin’.”

  “A nice soaker would be right gut, ’specially since we just planted corn.” Joe craned his neck to survey the wall of clouds.

  Hope the rain’s gone before supper. Grace envisioned the extra people who would gather at the table tonight. She looked forward to seeing Becky and the Spangler sisters again.

  Joe clucked his tongue. “Seems Willow’s out of sorts today.”

  “Just today?” She grimaced. “She’s always slow, ain’t so?”

  “Well, she’s got ev’ry right to be, old as she is.”

  She smiled and watched Willow’s head rise and fall with each trot, her long, thick mane waving in the breeze. “She’s been the best driving horse ever.” Grace remembered Dat first bringing her home with an enormous smile on his ruddy face. They were having a picnic on Ascension Day, and here came Dat leading the beautiful young mare, showing her off. “Lookee at what I’ve got,” he’d said. “This one’s as gentle as they come.” Within days, the chestnut-colored horse had endeared herself to the entire family.

  “Why’d you name her Willow back when?” Joe tossed the piece of straw onto the road.

  “Because she was always graceful, whether she was trotting or eating feed. Like willow branches movin’
in the wind.”

  He pulled on the reins to make the sharp right onto Church Road. “Jah, I guess I can see that.”

  “Willow just seemed like the perfect name—”

  “For a perfect horse,” Joe finished. They laughed at each other because this happened among the four siblings too often to ignore. They were all so closely linked as sisters and brothers and friends.

  She’d often wondered about Becky’s relationship with her brothers and sisters. Did most Plain families have such a close bond?

  When Joe guided the horse and buggy into the driveway, everything looked to be ready for company. The lawn had been carefully mowed and manicured, and the pasture fence freshly painted white, thanks to Mandy and Joe.

  Out front, Mamma glanced up from the porch, waving at them. Seeing everything looking so spiffy—and Mamma waiting for them—was heartening to Grace.

  “Mamma waits for the mail nearly ev’ry day,” Joe said softly as they headed up toward the horse stable.

  “How do you know?”

  “Well, I ain’t blind, am I?” He leaped out of the buggy and began unhitching Willow. Working around the horse, Joe said with a grunt, just like Dat might have, “Happy birthday, by the way.”

  Grace laughed out loud. What an unpredictable brother!

  Lettie eyed the front porch swing, wishing she had time to sit awhile. Before the house is all filled up. Sighing, she moved toward the swing, thinking if she could just rest a bit, she might feel better. I’m so weary.

  More than anything, she wanted to reread the latest letter from her Indiana cousin Hallie Troyer, who had scarcely a care in the world. Or so it seemed from her frequent correspondence. Lettie stared at the return address: Nappanee, Indiana.

  She was thankful Adam had run to pick up a birthday card for all of them to pass around and sign. She’d also asked him to purchase some nice writing paper and two pretty pens for Grace’s gift.

  Dear girl.

  There was some indication from across the wide hall that Mamm had made a small present for the birthday girl. Why must my mother spoil her so? Lettie wondered, thinking Grace was much too old to be given many gifts. But old-school though Mamm was bred to be, she was also one to push the line, inching toward it until it almost felt sometimes like they behaved like fancy folk.