Meanwhile, Judah was dating a new girl, though not one nearly as pretty as Lettie. It was much later that Jakob Esh came knocking one morning, and they went talking, man to man. Although he’d thought at the time how unusual it was for a father to play such a role, Judah was still plenty interested in having a chance to court Lettie—willing and ready, in fact, having never forgotten her. And while he was nothing like Samuel, he hoped she might come to love him. Judah’s talent was laboring with his hands and by the sweat of his brow—he had never read a poem to a girl or even to himself, let alone written one. At only eighteen, he worked the soil hard and tended to sheep.
Once he started seriously courting seventeen-year-old Let-tie, he gave her the courtesy of not speaking about Samuel. For her part, she, too, never uttered his name. At least, not intentionally.
There were times, though, when Lettie sometimes whispered Samuel’s name while she lay sleeping. Judah had refused to let it bother him. He knew as well as the next fellow that plenty of young folk didn’t end up hitched to the first girl or fellow they took a shine to.
Most important, Lettie had agreed to marry him. And nearly ten months later, she bore him a fine and healthy son. The Lord had been good, seeing fit to give them four wonderful children and twenty-three years of marriage.
Till now . . .
Grace was greeted warmly at the back door of the Stoltzfus home. Cousin Rose actually threw her arms around her. “Oh, it’s so nice to see ya!”
“And you, too.” She was glad when Rose suggested they go walking on the road, which was rather unlike their own busy street. The unpaved road more resembled a private lane, and Grace began to relax, the warmth of the sun on her face as Cousin Rose chattered away. Grace was surprised—and pleased—when she realized the grapevine had not wended its way this far concerning Mamma. It made things much easier all around.
At last Grace hesitantly asked Rose about Mamma’s friend at the barn raising. “Do you remember the woman? She wasn’t from around here, I don’t think.”
“Goodness, I believe I do know who you mean,” said Rose. “That was Sarah Graber, visiting from Ohio, though I can’t be sure of the exact city. Might be in Wayne County.” Rose fanned herself with a hankie. “She lives somewhere out there, anyway.”
“Is she related to you . . . or to Mamma?”
“Not to me, no. She was in town to see her grand-niece’s baby, is what I heard.” A sudden frown appeared on Rose’s plump face. “Ach . . . I ’spect you might not know who Sarah’s twin is, then.”
“No.”
“Well, that would be your mother’s first beau, Samuel Gra-ber. He was already on his way out of the church right around the time he and your mother started courtin’.” Rose paused and drew in a slow breath. “Seems from what was said back then, he had a real hankering for fancy, modern books—poetry and whatnot. Even wrote some himself. I believe I’ve got that right . . . so long ago now.”
That explained the books Mamma had retrieved from Uncle Ike’s; they must’ve come from Samuel. But how odd that Mamma wanted to keep them. Grace blinked her eyes, trying to absorb the news. “Why didn’t they marry?”
“Well, like I said, Samuel wasn’t much interested in joinin’ church. And your mother surely was.”
Mamma certainly had married someone devoted to God and the church. “She’s been a stickler for goin’ to Preaching all my life.” Just not so much recently, thought Grace, not knowing what to make of all this. She’d never heard Mamma breathe a word about her first beau, yet she’d chosen to keep the poetry books . . . even taking some away with her. Of all things!
Rose asked in a roundabout way about Grace’s relationship with her parents, and Grace saw through it. No doubt Rose wondered why Grace had come all this way to ask something her own mother could have answered.
“Your Mamma was better off without Samuel, I’ll say,” Rose added. “Some called him a troublemaker.”
Grace knew she ought to be heading home right quick. “Denki ever so much, Cousin Rose, but it’s ’bout time for me to start back—I have dinner to make.”
Now Rose was frowning to beat the band, staring over her glasses at her. “Is your mamma too sick to cook today? You can certainly stay and eat with us . . . that’d be just right fine.”
She had slipped up but good. “Another time, maybe,” Grace said quickly. “My driver will be returning soon. It’s kind of you to visit with me. Thank you again ever so much.”
“Anytime, Grace . . . just anytime at all.” Rose took off her glasses and cleaned them with her hankie. “Tell your family hullo from all of us down here. We sure miss the Sunday visits.”
Nodding, Grace told how busy they were now, what with lambing. She hoped Rose wouldn’t ask specifically again about Mamma and open up that can of worms.
Very soon, Martin Puckett’s van came inching along the narrow lane. Just in time, too.
All the way home, Grace could not begin to understand what her mother and the twin sister of Mamma’s first beau could have had to talk about on their long walk. It seemed very awkward.
Has Mamma kept in touch with Sarah through the years? Could that be?
If so, she felt it was a prickly thing—nearly inappropriate.
She stared out at the sky, glad to be sitting behind Martin as he drove. That way he wouldn’t feel at liberty to talk as they traveled, nor to make eye contact in his rearview mirror. There was so much to ponder now, her head all filled up with strange names and odd circumstances. Hearing about Samuel was jarring, especially since Joe said Mamma had been hovering near the mailbox all those days before she escaped.
Who was she expecting to hear from . . . and was it related to her leaving?
Aunt Lavina’s vague comment about Mamma’s first beau rang in Grace’s memory. Oh, but she did not want Martin Puck-ett to glimpse her face now. She was afraid that the confusion all tangled up in her heart would surely be registered there.
chapter
twenty-nine
Martin’s wife called him on his cell phone, asking if he would like to come home for lunch. “I’ve made a nice batch of chicken salad,” she said, enticing him with one of his very favorites.
He agreed to head right there. And while doing so, he considered Judah Byler’s upbeat attitude earlier today and, in contrast, his daughter Grace’s sullenness. He couldn’t get over why she’d wanted to travel so far for such a short visit, but that was neither here nor there. He was just pleased for the opportunity to be working again, because the calls from the Amish—especially those in Bird-in-Hand—were still far fewer than usual.
Janet had the round table in the dining cove set and ready when he arrived. He kissed her and went to wash his hands at the sink.
“Business picking up?” she asked.
“Only two passengers so far.” He reached for the towel and dried his hands.
“Might be the last two,” she said softly, “from what I heard at the spa.” Janet had gone for a facial and overheard two women talking about a silly rumor that had turned into a mountain of a story.
“Well, for goodness’ sake!” His heart sank as he pulled out his chair and sat down.
“Seems more like the doings of small-town busybodies than a typical Amish community.” Janet reached for her napkin and placed it on her lap.
“Plenty of gossip everywhere, I suppose.”
Janet was staring at him now. “It’s tantalizing to pass along something seen at a train station, I guess.”
He squeezed his lips together. So she’d heard what must have originated with Pete Bernhardt that day. “Well, not all of it is fact.”
She leaned over the table, reaching for his hand. “You didn’t run off with an Amishwoman, did you?”
He laughed. “Not unless you’re Amish.”
She leaned back and sighed. “Considering we left for our long weekend that day, I’d already figured that.”
“Evidently someone needs more than a little amusement.” He shook
his head. “At my expense.”
“And Lettie Byler’s. How must her husband feel?”
No way did Martin think Judah Byler believed any of those rumors. Not as friendly as he’d been on the way to the bank today.
“The whole thing will die down,” Martin said. “Except for the fact that I did drive Lettie Byler to Lancaster, as you know.” He explained that Lettie had left a slip of paper with several phone numbers on it, so he’d gone in to return it to her. He leaned over and kissed Janet’s cheek. “You have nothing to worry about, love.”
She smiled back. “What can we do to put a stop to all this?”
“Live our lives honestly, just as we do.”
She reached for the salt and pepper. “Have you thought of addressing the rumors with her husband?”
He considered it, but Judah wasn’t one to make a to-do over something. And Judah trusted Martin with Grace, so why not with Lettie? No, it seemed clear Judah Byler did not believe the rumors. He’s too sensible to believe hearsay. “If he brings it up, I’ll tell Judah my side of things. How’s that?”
Janet didn’t question his response, and they continued the lunch by talking about their married son’s plans to visit next week. Later, Janet’s face glowed as she shared a description of her hour-long facial. “I wouldn’t mind going every few months,” she added. “If it doesn’t tax our budget.”
Martin nodded, trying to think of ways to woo back his Amish customers. Janet’s spa habit will keep me working!
Grace had left lean ground beef to thaw on the counter while she was in Bart. When she returned to the kitchen, she was happy to see Mandy already assembling the ingredients for the meatloaf. She stood in the doorway between their large sitting room and the kitchen, watching her sister stir together the eggs, oatmeal, mustard, onions, ketchup, and tomato juice to add to the meat, then prepare to shape the finished mixture into a mound.
“Ach, you’re doin’ such a nice job,” she said, finally moving into the kitchen.
Mandy looked up, smiling. “You were planning on having meatloaf today, weren’t you?”
“That’ll be fine,” Grace said, going to get some pinto beans out of the pantry. She enjoyed working side by side with her sister. Grace put the beans in a pot with some smoked meat, brown sugar, mustard, onions, catsup, vinegar, and other seasonings to make the baked bean side dish.
The way Mamma always makes them.
When she’d put the beans in the oven, she headed up the stairs to change into an older gray choring dress. She would simply change back into the better blue one as the time came closer to heading for work.
In her room she sat on the settee near the window and reread Mamma’s letter. The thought nagged at her that she ought to share at least some of what Mamma had written with poor Mandy. Yet she feared doing so would stir up more sadness in her sister, just as it would in any of them.
“Did it in Dat?” she whispered, gazing out the window.
It was nearly impossible to understand how her father could talk so animatedly with Martin Puckett so soon after practically ignoring his own daughter on their walk back from the phone shanty. She would almost prefer him moping around the way Mandy did, carrying such pain in her eyes. Truth be told, that was the way she felt, too, though she kept her saddest emotions hidden for the sake of her family.
Returning the letter to its hiding place, she decided to seek wise counsel from her grandmother. Mammi Adah would know best.
And, too, Grace hadn’t forgotten about the old letter stuck in Dawdi’s Bible. Why on earth had Dawdi and Mammi saved it?
Back downstairs, Grace began to peel, then boil a heap of potatoes for mashing. Next she finished making the brown gravy. Hurrying to the cold cellar below, she chose a canning jar of chowchow and one of red beets to round out their meal.
Close to noon, she noticed Dat and her brothers emerging from the barn. They stood outside talking—what about, she couldn’t guess. “Remember to put on the bread and butter,” she told Mandy, placing the hot dishes on the table.
“Dat likes his apple butter, ain’t?” Mandy asked.
“He plain loves to eat.” Grace returned to the sink area and gave her sister a sideways glance. “What would ya say ’bout takin’ turns cooking?”
“Actually, today in the barn Dat suggested I help you more. Did you say somethin’, maybe?”
Grace shook her head. “Nary a word.” She was frankly surprised their father had noticed her plight.
“Well, I’m sure willing to pitch in more.” Mandy began slicing a loaf of bread on the large cutting board. “Just wish there was more I could do to help Dat. ’Tween you and me, I think he’s ever so miserable.”
“No doubt.”
Mandy continued. “I was really tuckered out myself for a few days there, Gracie. I felt I couldn’t keep goin’, sad as I was.” Mandy stacked the slices of bread on a plate. “But you know what? I’ve decided not to be so glum anymore,” she said. “I don’t understand why Mamma left, and I don’t like it one bit. But if she doesn’t want us to know where she’s gone—or why—then she must have a gut reason.”
Grace looked at her sister. Hers was an interesting view. As for herself, she couldn’t simply dismiss Mamma’s strange behavior—or the tragedy of her abandoning them. “It’s hard to know what Mamma’s thinkin’,” she said.
“Jah, but if we ponder it too hard, it’ll just drive us all mad, ain’t?”
Grace had fought through anguished moments in the night when she thought she might awaken the house if she gave in to sobbing. “Think I’ll go over to see if Dawdi and Mammi want to join us for dinner today,” she said.
“Jah. They ought to join us every day,” Mandy agreed. “Seems odd for them to live under the same roof but only eat with us once in a blue moon.”
Mamma’s doing, thought Grace, though to her sister she said, “That’s a wonderful-gut idea, Mandy.” With that she hurried through the sitting room and across the hallway to their grandparents’ side.
During the tasty meatloaf dinner, Grace noticed Mandy seemed more like her old self. No doubt she had happily noticed all the lip-smacking at the table.
Later Grace helped Dawdi Jakob back across the house to his favorite chair in the sitting room. Once he was settled, Mammi motioned her into the kitchen so she could look at a new cookie recipe.
“I received it in a circle letter from one of my cousin’s friends,” Mammi Adah told her.
Grace looked at the recipe and smiled. “A healthy cookie?” She’d seen them at Eli’s, all packaged up in cellophane near the cashier. She’d even tasted one.
Mammi Adah asked what she thought of substituting agave nectar for sugar, as called for in the cookie recipe. “You would need less of it, for one thing . . . and for another, the texture would be more cake-like,” Grace told her.
But as interesting as the recipe was, Grace was anxious to discuss other things. And the minute Mammi put the recipe on the kitchen counter, Grace said, “I’ve been holdin’ on to Mamma’s note to me, not sure what to do.” She explained her uncertainty, how she feared it might especially affect sensitive Mandy. “Dat’s read it, though.”
Mammi frowned. “Does it explain why your father thinks Lettie’s not comin’ back?” Her voice was flat.
“Might be. But it’s hard to say, really.”
Mammi Adah’s eyes were somber. “Would ya mind if I read it?”
“Well, only if it won’t make you feel awful blue. I’d hate to—”
“No . . . don’t think that.” Mammi reached out a hand. “You’re a gracious soul, dear.”
She felt embarrassed but squeezed Mammi’s hand. “There’s something else on my mind, Mammi.”
“Jah?”
Slowly, choosing her words carefully, she began to share what she’d learned from Dat’s cousin Rose about Mamma and her long-ago beau. “Now that I know who Sarah Graber is, I’m still befuddled as to Mamma’s excitement at seeing her down at the barn raising.”
Her grandmother sighed softly, and pretty soon big tears slipped down her wrinkled cheeks.
Grace felt the tight, prickly feeling in her stomach again. “So, dare I ask you . . . why would Mamma be so thrilled to see Samuel Graber’s sister?”
Adah had to be careful what she revealed to Grace about her mother and Samuel. The last thing she wanted was to influence her granddaughter in any negative way. No, Grace mustn’t think any less of her Mamma for her youthful interest in worldly young Samuel.
Grace’s blue eyes were wide as she waited for an answer. She crossed her legs and leaned forward intently, a bare foot sticking out from beneath the hem of her choring dress.
“My dear girl, I have no idea why your mother was so happy to see Samuel’s sister.” Adah was conscious of the beating of her own heart.
“Ever so peculiar, ain’t so?”
Adah straightened her apron and willed herself to remain calm. “I wish I could tell you that your mother fell first for a devout boy, heading toward church baptism. But, alas, Samuel would have taken her away from the church.” She patted her face with her hankie. “It was providential that one of Dawdi Jakob’s elderly relatives—your mother’s great-aunt—needed some live-in care in Ohio. Your Mamma and I went there to assist her for a few months . . . till she died.”
“But was it also to get my mother away from Samuel?”
“Well, by the time we returned home, Samuel and his family had surprisingly moved away. Your mother was heartbroken beyond belief, but your Dawdi and I were relieved.” Adah brushed away her tears. “Not a soul approved of Samuel courtin’ our Lettie, including Dawdi and me.”
“So the People knew of their courtship, then? It wasn’t a secret, like we keep it nowadays?”
“Oh, it was meant to be secret, all right, but the few who knew how much time Samuel was spending with your mother each week were concerned.”
Grace looked surprised. “Who else knew?”
Secret, The Page 22