Secret, The

by Beverly Lewis

  “You’re a peach.” Becky kissed her cheek. Then quickly her expression changed to concern. “Ach, I shouldn’t be goin’ on so . . . not with you—”

  “Now, don’t even mention it. I’m awful happy for ya, honest.”

  “You goin’ to be all right?” Becky asked, her eyes solemn.

  “Why, sure.” Grace remembered something. “Becky, can you come up to my room real quick?” They hurried back to the house and up the stairs to Grace’s room. She showed her the case of colored pencils. “Remember these?”

  “Jah. And goodness, they’re just beautiful. . . .” Becky lifted out the pale blue pencil and held it in her hand.

  “I want you to have them.”

  “Oh, Gracie—are ya sure? They were your birthday gift, after all.”

  Nodding, Grace gave her the case. “Make more pictures of hummingbirds, if you want to. I’d love that.”

  Becky smiled, eyes blinking. “I can hardly believe this. Denki!” She gave Grace a quick hug.

  “Might be best not to tell the Spangler girls, ya know.”

  “I’ll keep mum, not to worry.” Becky eyed her. “You sure you’ll be all right?”

  “I live each day as it comes.” Grace wanted to be strong. “But it’s just like you to be so caring.”

  An hour later, after Becky had run off to find her family and head home, Grace realized she’d forgotten to tell her friend her own good news.

  She smiled at Yonnie’s unique—even peculiar—approach to finding a life mate. Curious as it seemed to some, there was something to be said for taking one’s time in the matter. For sure and for certain, he’ll make Becky mighty happy.

  Heather leaned close to the laptop screen, trying to make sense of what she was reading. She gathered her hair in a high ponytail and sighed. “So Devon wasn’t really sick.”

  She should’ve suspected something like this. Deep in her psyche, hadn’t she feared this very thing? She read the email again, shaking her head repeatedly.

  How could I have been such an idiot?

  Reliving even their slightest disagreements now, she could not come up with a single issue that would have pointed to this. Why had she been so naïve, trusting him with her feelings? How could she have so completely missed who Devon Powers was?

  Obviously, he wasn’t the man of her dreams after all. In the blink of an eye, he’d found someone new—someone from my unit. We didn’t plan this—it just happened. It’s unbelievable how much we have in common, he wrote.

  “Yeah, I’ll bet!” She wanted to throw something. “So now I’m chopped sushi?”

  She wanted to leap through the computer screen. “This is what I get for being loyal?”

  I really hate to hit you with this, but face it, Heather . . . I’m halfway around the world, and we haven’t seen each other in months. It’s not like your life will change. He signed off with nothing more than his name.

  She closed her laptop. “You can have your soldier girl,” she whispered.

  She’d heard enough sob stories from her sorority sisters to know this was how things went for some people—a never-ending rotation of new relationships and breakups. For some, it was actually the thrill of starting up a relationship that did it for them.

  But she’d wanted a long and committed love. None of the casual boy-meets-girl stuff of the campus scene.

  And here I thought I’d found it. . . .

  She clicked on her phone, needing a tune. The louder and more teeth rattling the better—anything to get through the first night. She marched through the house, a fitting angry-girls-who-hate- guys band cranked up.

  She forced a laugh. Devon was a total jerk.

  “I messed up,” she whispered through tears, realizing there wasn’t a single shoulder to cry on. No one she felt like telling. Devon had been her best friend, her first and only true boyfriend. That kind of relationship was hard to come by, at least for her.

  It was definitely time to get away.

  Great timing, Devon, Heather thought angrily. If only you knew . . .

  chapter

  twenty-two

  Despite her heart-to-heart talk with Adam over root beer, Grace could not shake off her inner concerns about a fall wedding. Watching her father slowly unravel over Mamma’s absence fed her worries. Was it just the timing of her engagement to Henry, or was it the idea of marriage itself that made her shiver?

  She pondered this all through the fast songs at Singing as she sat among the girls on one side of the long stretch of tables. Nearly as many fellows mirrored them on the opposite side.

  Henry sat directly across from her, as if sending an uncharacteristically bold signal to the other fellows that he’d made his choice. Interestingly, Adam never once sat near Priscilla at Singings . . . and wasn’t tonight, either. Rather, her brother had planted himself across from Mandy and was making faces at her, no doubt trying to cheer her up.

  Maybe that’s why.

  Priscilla Stahl was seated farther down, surrounded by her close-in-age sisters and girl cousins. Becky Riehl sat next to Grace, leaning near every so often, as if to show her care. Grace treasured Becky’s devoted presence.

  Yonnie Bontrager kept to himself at the far right end of the boys’ side of the table, sporting a broad smile at no one in particular. She hoped Becky wouldn’t be hurt by this young man and his unusual ways.

  She glanced at her friend, not surprised at all that Yonnie, or any boy, would like her. Becky was, after all, a spontaneous and fun-loving young woman.

  Turning, she saw Henry staring at her. She felt surprised by his noticeable attention and quickly looked away.

  What must be going through his mind?

  While her courting-age grandchildren sang in unison with the other youth in the old bank barn, Adah sat on the front porch with Jakob and Judah, enjoying the voices drifting their way. Adah recalled having gone down to talk straight to Marian Riehl this afternoon, once the house cleared out from Preaching. She’d felt the need to speak her mind about Lettie to her neighbor, dear as any friend she’d ever had. Not surprisingly, Marian had looked askance, but not for long. And Adah had made her attempt to put a stop to the senseless rumor.

  At least that one, she thought now.

  Jakob’s head bobbed to the melody, and his upper torso swayed now and then as he obviously enjoyed the sound of music coming from the upper level of the barn built into the side of a hill.

  “Sounds right gut,” Jakob commented, looking at Judah, who nodded.

  “First time we’ve had us a Singing in a while,” Adah mentioned, hoping to get her son-in-law talking.

  “Do ya think young Joe’s out there, too, even though he ain’t courting age just yet?” Jakob ran his long fingers through his graying hair.

  Adah waited to see if Judah might bite. “Wouldn’t be surprised if Joe’s hidin’ away somewheres, observing high in the haymow.” She paused—goodness’ sakes, Judah was quieter than usual. To be expected, I guess. “Joe idolizes Adam, ya know.”

  Jakob nodded several times, as though deep in thought. “Both fine boys, I’ll say.”

  Sighing, Adah felt the familiar frustration of trying to carry on a conversation with Judah—one reason for Lettie’s own frequent irritation. “Grace has a mind to go lookin’ for Lettie,” she said. “What do you think of that, Judah?”

  He planted his elbows on his knees and bowed his head. “All this talk about Lettie has me ill,” he said. “That’s what I think.”

  She folded her arms, peering over her glasses at him.

  And there you have it.

  Truth was, all their finagling to get Lettie and Judah together—mostly Jakob’s doing—had returned to haunt them.

  Judah excused himself and headed into the house, going directly to the hallway stairs. Adam would see to extinguishing all the lanterns and latching the barn door once Singing ended. Judah feebly made his way to his bedroom, still exhausted from the previous night.

  The day had been a long one�
��too long. The endless stares, the worried looks on the faces of so many womenfolk.

  Out of the blue, he remembered an especially carefree moment when his wife’s eyes had lit up with delight as they rode home from visiting one Sunday afternoon not long ago. Lettie had spotted their Englischer neighbors, the Spanglers, outdoors with two of their toddler-age nephews, all of them laughing and playing fetch with their golden Labrador retriever.

  Are her eyes filled with sadness or joy right now? he wondered.

  He recalled the lovely way Lettie’s unpinned hair fell around her shoulders in blond waves after being done up all day in the unyielding bun. He’d never felt the need to say much with his wife. Her presence in the house was nearly enough to bring him contentment. Not so for her, it seems. . . .

  He looked out the window, still able to make out the tall, pointed shadows of the windbreak of trees. Shaking his head, he found it annoying how Lettie’s mother had pried shamelessly on the porch tonight, trying every which way to snoop enough to get him talking. He hadn’t refused out of stubbornness, though it may have seemed that way. Honestly, he had felt he might keel over from the aching in his head and neck. It had been weeks since he’d slept through a single night. The way he saw it, rest was a gift from God’s own hand, just as the Psalms stated: He giveth his beloved sleep.

  Quickly closing the door, Judah went to the dresser and pulled out his pajamas. Once changed, he drew back the covers and slipped in. He stared at Lettie’s pillow, then reached for it to clench it to his chest, the sound of youthful singing still wending its way from the barn to his open window.

  After Singing, Grace accepted Henry’s invitation to go riding in his fine black buggy. The old stone wall and the fields across the road were still visible in the fading light. As the crescent moon rose on the thin horizon line to the far east, its light cast an eerie stream across the now-silvery fields.

  She got into the open carriage and sat to his left. She’d worn her best maroon dress, nearly violet in color, with Mammi Adah’s birthday hankie tucked into the pocket. So far the night was only slightly chilly, but she’d brought along her woolen shawl, just in case.

  Henry’s flashlight lay on the seat between them, the very light that had brought their relationship to this point. How swiftly she’d forgotten the excitement of seeing him standing outside last Wednesday night.

  Four long days ago!

  Henry reached for her hand as soon as they were on their way. Since they rarely made more than a little small talk, enjoying the quiet of each other’s company instead, this night was much the same as all the others.

  The moon had moved above the row of pin oaks on the east side of the road, near where the Amish schoolhouse sat silhouetted on Gibbons Road.

  Out of the blue, Henry steered the horse onto the shoulder of the road and parked in front of the schoolyard where they’d both attended all eight grades. Was he feeling sentimental, even romantic? She found it hard to believe this of Henry. Maybe he did have an impractical side.

  He helped her down, and they walked toward the little one-room school together, side by side. All around the perimeter, they strolled in silence.

  After a time, they made their way to the area where they’d played baseball as children, though, not being much of a tomboy, Grace had preferred to jump rope or, when she was younger, play with her faceless cloth doll.

  When it seemed as if Henry had in mind only to walk in a pleasant setting, she could hold back no longer. “You must’ve heard ’bout my mother,” she ventured to say.

  “I did.”

  “Then you understand why things are so verkehrt these days. For me . . . for my family?”

  He barely nodded.

  “It’s downright upsetting.” She sighed, frustrated. “Everything’s all jumbled up.”

  He looked at her. “But life keeps on going, jah?”

  She shivered. Was that all he could say?

  “You’re shearin’ sheep, birthing lambs, ain’t?” he said unexpectedly.

  “Keepin’ mighty busy, jah.”

  They walked over near the swings. “No word from her?” he asked.

  “Not yet, but I’m sure we’ll hear soon.” She moved to sit on one of the swings, and Henry did the same. “I don’t know how you feel ’bout this,” she said, “but I wonder if we shouldn’t postpone things. For now.”

  “Why?”

  “Till all this is past,” she explained.

  “Ain’t necessary, is it?” Henry’s quick reply surprised her. “Surely your mother will return in time for the wedding. November is seven months away yet.”

  So he doesn’t think ill of me. . . . The thought brought her a measure of reassurance as she pulled her shawl around her, then clutched the chains of the swing. “All right, then, we’ll leave things be.”

  He paused, turning in the swing next to her, his expression hard to make out in the dimness. “Remember, you’re not like your mother, Grace.”

  She let out a little gasp, not knowing what to think. If he’d meant to compliment her, he was certainly going about it all wrong.

  Perhaps sensing something was amiss, Henry quickly rose and went to her, reaching for her hand to help her from the swing. “We should head home,” he said. And that was that.

  Grace noticed a light still burning in her grandparents’ front room after Henry dropped her off. She longed to visit with Mammi Adah, wanted to curl up in her loving arms and be rocked to sleep like a young child.

  But she was a grown woman, and she must weather this storm. Even so, she might glean some wisdom—perhaps even some comfort—from Mammi Adah tonight.

  If she’s the one up.

  Surely her always-sympathetic grandmother would understand her unease over what to do about her engagement. Grace had welcomed Dawdi and Mammi’s presence since they’d moved into her father’s three-story farmhouse several years ago. And even though Mamma and Mammi Adah were apparently on edge much of the time, Grace’s seventy-year-old grandmother was ever ready to help. Mostly, though, she stayed busy taking care of Dawdi Jakob, who’d slowed down considerably in recent years. Rarely did they share meals with the rest of the family, other than birthdays and holidays, and the arrangement seemed to suit Dat and Mamma just fine.

  Grace moved silently through the lawn and up the few steps to Dawdi’s back door, letting herself in. She saw that while a gas lamp remained lit, no one was nearby in either the kitchen or the wide front room, where Dawdi and Mammi liked to sit and talk and read after supper.

  She noticed her grandfather’s big German Biewel on the sofa, as well as Mammi Adah’s tatting hook and a handkerchief in the process of being finished. Calling softly, she assumed Mammi had failed to outen the light, and she was moving to do so when a letter sticking out of the Bible caught her eye. She glanced at it and saw it was addressed to Mrs. Adah Esh and Miss Lettie Esh, at a street somewhere in Kidron, Ohio.

  Opening the Bible, she peered more closely at the envelope, recognizing now that it was a steadier version of her grandfather’s writing. The return address was her grandparents’ former home on Weavertown Road, where they’d resided prior to moving here.

  Curious, she tried to see the postmark but could not make it out. Hearing someone on the steps, she quickly pushed the letter back inside the Bible and closed it, then hurried out to the hall.

  “Well, Grace . . . it’s you. I thought I heard someone.” Mammi Adah looked tired, her hair flowing like silk all around her, clear to her knees. “You’re gettin’ in a bit early from a date, jah?” Mammi glanced at her.

  Grace nodded. “I ought to just head off to bed.”

  “But you’re here now. . . .” Mammi said. “Care to sit awhile?”

  “Well, it is late . . . ’specially for you.”

  Mammi shook her head, eyes softening. “Never too late for my Gracie.”

  She could not resist, so she sat in Dawdi’s upholstered chair while Mammi got settled on the small sofa, next to the Bible with its od
d letter. She glanced at the Good Book, wishing she could get up the nerve to ask Mammi Adah about the letter inside. The strange Ohio address had filled her with questions, yet the peculiar way Mammi had acted about Grace’s idea to search for her mother made her hesitant to ask. Besides, she had a more pressing matter on her mind tonight.

  “Have you ever done something you wished you hadn’t?” Grace asked.

  Her grandmother’s smile faded and she picked up her tatting. “I daresay we all do such things—ofttimes when we’re young—and even after we’re all grown up, too.”

  “Things that might hurt another, even though we don’t mean to?”

  Mammi nodded. “Why do you ask?”

  Grace truly wanted to preserve something of Henry’s and her privacy, but she also was anxious for Mammi Adah’s advice. “Can you keep a secret?”

  Mammi nodded. “You have my word, dear.”

  “Well, even though my beau doesn’t agree, I wonder if we’re doin’ the right thing by goin’ ahead with our wedding this fall.”

  Mammi smiled. “So this must be the news you wanted to share with your Mamma.”

  “Jah, ’cept now . . . well, bein’ engaged doesn’t feel quite right . . . with Mamma gone.”

  “I see why you might feel thataway.”

  After a moment, Grace said quietly, “I’m not all that sure ’bout things in general, truth be told.”

  “About marriage?”

  Nodding, Grace recalled how she’d felt when Henry had offered his hand tonight, when she was sitting on the swing in their old school yard. There were times when she believed she had done the right thing by saying yes to his proposal. But lately so many doubts had begun to surface—beginning the night of Mamma’s talk with her about Henry’s reserved nature.

  The night of my birthday . . . before Henry came to propose.

  “Well, I’ll be the first to say ’tis a challenge,” Mammi said. “There’s nothin’ easy ’bout puttin’ two people under one roof as husband and wife, tryin’ to make heads ’n’ tails out of living together and raising a family.”