Margarethe had come over to make ice cream with Lillibet that afternoon. It had been so hot, Lilli thought it would be a nice treat for the boys and her father when they finished working, and Margarethe had agreed to help her. They talked about nothing in particular. They had seen each other at the Sunday service the day before, which had gone on for the usual three hours. And Margarethe mentioned to Lilli that one of her daughters was having another baby, and the youngest who had just gotten married was pregnant as well. She was seventeen years old. And once in a while, when Lillibet heard about girls that age getting married and starting families, it made her feel ancient. She had led the life of a grown woman for so many years.
“Nathaniel Weiss is ready to start courting again,” Margarethe said casually as they worked on the ice cream. He had lost his wife the year before and was in his early thirties. His wife had died in childbirth, and he had five children.
“That’s nice,” Lilli said, clearly with no interest.
“He’s a fine-looking man.” Margarethe tried again, and Lilli smiled at her.
“No,” she said simply. “I brought up three boys, and I take care of Papa. I don’t need five more and a husband. In a few more years the boys will be married and on their own, and I’ll only have Papa to take care of. Why would I want to start all over again? Would you want to, and have ten more children?”
“If that was what God wanted for me, I would. We’re not meant to be idle, Lilli,” she said gently.
“I haven’t been. But I never get time to myself.” She wanted hours to read and daydream and write, whenever she liked. Every moment of her day was filled now, with doing for someone else, and it had been since she was seventeen. Margarethe was forty-one years old, had married at sixteen, and had had twenty-five years of children and grandchildren, although her husband had died many years before and left her a great many acres. The community had helped her ever since and lent her a hand with her children. And now they were old enough to work her farm.
“Would you marry again?” Lilli asked her with interest, although she couldn’t see why. She didn’t need to and was never lonely. But Lilli knew that her father liked her, even though they were just friends. He had never really gotten over her mother and her shocking death.
“I might, if the right man turned up at my door.”
“Like my father?” Lilli asked her bluntly.
“Maybe. He never asked. And I don’t think he will. We’re comfortable as friends. And he has you. He doesn’t need a wife to run his house.” And he was seventy, not in the first bloom of youth, but he was strong and energetic and looked younger than his years. Margarethe had always thought that if Lilli married, Henryk might want to marry again. And Margarethe was comfortable as she was. Living in the community they did, they enjoyed the company of other women, and the men were always near at hand to help. “He was so in love with your mother, I think it’s taken him years to get over it, and maybe he never will.” Lilli nodded at what she said. She still missed her mother too. She was so gentle and wise, so beautiful and so smart and funny. There was no one else like her. She had always known just what to do or say. And it was always the perfect answer. Lilli wished she could be like her one day.
Henryk and the boys were delighted with the ice cream when they got home, and Margarethe stayed for dinner. None of her children were at home anymore, so she had more free time than the younger women, like Lilli, whose chores and tasks with the boys were never done until bedtime. And in winter, she did homework with the twins.
Henryk and Margarethe sat and talked for a while, and then she went home, and Lilli had some sewing to do, and then she scolded the boys into bed. She had just said good night to the twins, when Markus remembered something and jumped out of bed. He grabbed an envelope out of the pocket of the trousers he had worn that day and handed it to her with a sheepish grin.
“I forgot to give this to you. It’s from Mr. Lattimer at the dairy.” She was surprised to get any letter, and opened it as she walked out of the boys’ room. She stopped dead when she read it, and then hurried to her bedroom and sat down on her bed. Her legs were shaking so hard, she could hardly stand up. She had just read Bob Bellagio’s e-mail to her about how much he liked her book. She folded the letter carefully and slipped it under her mattress without a sound. And a moment later she went back downstairs to check on her father. He was asleep in his chair, after a long day at the plow. He was still as active as the younger men, but tired at night. She woke him gently and told him to go to bed. He smiled and patted her hand and went to his own room a few minutes later. She turned off the kerosene lamps and blew out the candles and then went upstairs herself. She took out the letter and read it again, and all she knew was that she had to get back to the dairy to answer him. But she had no idea how she would ever see him. She knew she had to find a way, and as she lay in bed that night, she prayed to her mother to help her. She was sure that writing the book had been her mother’s idea, so now she had to take her the rest of the way.
Chapter 15
Willy worked in the fields with his father and older brothers again the next day, and the twins were going to the dairy with the milk alone, when Lillibet stopped them and surprised them by saying she would go with them. She had her bonnet on and was ready to leave.
“Why? You don’t need to.” Both boys looked annoyed. They liked getting away from her and delivering the milk alone. She was always scolding them for something or telling them what to do. And Willy shouted at them and boxed their ears. It was much more fun going to Lattimer’s on their own. And they looked glum when she hopped into the buggy at the last minute and tied her bonnet strings.
“It’s fun to take a ride with you two, and all my chores are done.” They weren’t, but she had no other valid excuse. She had slipped the letter into her pocket and had all of Bob Bellagio’s phone numbers with her. She was hoping that Joe Lattimer would let her use his phone. She felt guilty for the imposition, but he was her only conduit to the outside world, and she wanted to reach Bob Bellagio before he changed his mind about her book. She had no idea that there wasn’t a chance of that in the world.
They got to the dairy quicker than usual when she was with them, and she sent the boys to get the goat cheese for their father, and then slipped into Joe Lattimer’s office, praying he was there. She had no idea how to use a phone. And she wouldn’t have done it anyway without his permission. But fortunately, he was at his desk when she walked in with an anxious look.
“Hello, Mr. Lattimer. I’m sorry to bother you again,” she said softly. She wanted to call the publisher quickly before the boys finished their mission, but they were chatting with the two young workers behind the barn and were in no rush.
“I thought I might see you”—he smiled at her—“after that e-mail I sent you yesterday. That’s a serious letter. It must be quite a book.” He looked impressed, and she smiled nervously at him. “Would you like to send him an answer?” he volunteered.
“Could we call?” she asked breathlessly, and he nodded, as she slipped the letter out of her pocket and gave it to him for the numbers. He dialed for her a minute later and handed the phone to her. She waited while it rang, and a voice answered immediately. She wasn’t sure what to say, as Joe Lattimer watched her. He could see her hand shaking as she held the phone.
“May I please speak to Mr. Bellagio,” she said carefully, amazed by how clear the connection was. The woman on the phone sounded like she was in the same room. Lilli thought she might have to speak loudly, but she didn’t.
“I’ll see if he’s in.” The voice disappeared off the line, and she looked at Joe Lattimer in panic.
“I think she’s gone.”
“You’re probably on hold,” he explained. “Just wait. She’ll be back.” And a minute later she was.
“I’ll put you through. Who shall I say is calling?”
“Lillibet Petersen,” she said clearly, hoping he’d remember her name. She assumed he was an important
, busy person, and maybe he’d forgotten.
The receptionist had located Bob in his office and told him Elizabeth Petersen was on the line, and he knew immediately who it was, despite the garbled name. He had been hoping she’d call if she got the e-mail. And it hadn’t taken long.
“Miss Petersen?” He took the call immediately, and she was startled by his voice. She felt as though she’d heard it before. Something about it was so familiar.
“Yes,” she almost whispered, she was so overwhelmed to hear him.
“I want to come and see you. I love your book. I want to publish it,” he said in a strong tone, and she was silent for a moment, listening to his voice.
“Thank you.” She wasn’t used to having a conversation on the telephone and didn’t know what to say. At his end, he heard the softness of her voice, and thought she might be scared. It didn’t occur to him that she had never spoken on a phone before and wasn’t sure how it worked. It seemed like magic to her.
“When can I come and see you?” he asked more gently, and she relaxed a little.
“I don’t know.” She didn’t want to admit to him that she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere and couldn’t meet him. Then he wouldn’t want her book. “I don’t know if … when I can.” Her eyes filled with tears as she said it. “My father is very strict,” she said softly.
“I understand,” he said, feeling an insane desire to put his arms around her. He had no idea what she looked like, and all he wanted to do was protect her from a man he didn’t know. “Maybe we could meet at the dairy, with Mr. Lattimer. Would that be more comfortable for you?” He was trying to make it easier for her, but it would be hard for her, which he didn’t know.
“Yes. I will try,” she promised him. She would move heaven and earth to get there, but something could go wrong. She had no reason to go to the dairy with her brothers, so all the stars would have to line up right so she could go with them again.
“Would this Friday work for you?” He was thinking of driving down on Thursday night, to make sure he’d be there, and there would be no delays.
“Maybe. If I can get out,” she said honestly. “It’s not easy. I have chores to do on the farm. I take care of my father and brothers.”
“Yes, of course.” He didn’t have the slightest inkling of what her life was like, but he was trying to imagine. It was a world beyond his ken. “What time would be best for you?”
“They usually come in the morning. Perhaps at eleven, but before noon.”
“I’ll be there from ten o’clock on,” he promised her, “in case you arrive early. Come whenever you can. I’ll be there. I’ll see you on Friday … and Lillibet … thank you for your wonderful book, and for meeting me. It’s going to be a big success.”
“I hope so,” she said softly, not really knowing what that meant to him or even to herself. “Thank you for coming to meet me. I’m sorry it’s not easier.” She didn’t know why, but she trusted him and felt as though she knew him. And he felt the same way about her and had no idea why.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll work it out.”
“Thank you,” she said again, and then they hung up. Bob sat at his desk, thinking about her for a long moment, shaken by the reality of her voice. She sounded so touching, so young, and so shy. All he wanted was to do this right for her and make it as easy as he could. And it made no sense to him, but he had the feeling that meeting her on Friday would change his life.
And as soon as Lillibet hung up, she looked at Joe Lattimer as though she were in shock.
“He’s coming on Friday. He wants to publish my book.”
Joe nodded. He had understood. “Are you going to tell your father?” He had become her co-conspirator and ally, but somehow it felt right to him too, and it was exciting to be part of it. What if her book was a big hit?
“Yes, but not yet,” Lillibet said about telling her father. “I don’t want him to stop me. He won’t understand at first.” And maybe never. But she couldn’t imagine that he would shun her for something like this. She wasn’t going anywhere. She wasn’t leaving. They were just going to publish her book. That was all. But her father wouldn’t be pleased. She had no illusions about that.
“I think this is very thrilling,” Joe Lattimer said seriously. “You should be very proud.”
“I’m very scared,” she said honestly, and he smiled at her.
“Don’t be. I think it will be fine. Your father may be upset at first, but he’ll get over it. You haven’t done anything wrong.” She nodded, wishing that were true. “I guess I’ll see you on Friday then.”
“If I can get out,” she whispered. But she knew she had to now.
She thanked Joe Lattimer then, and went to find her brothers. They were just coming from behind the barn. She waited for them to get the cheese for their father, and then they got back in the buggy. They didn’t even know she’d gone to see Joe Lattimer, they’d been having too much fun on their own. And she was silent on the ride home. Her heart was pounding as she thought of the call to New York. She had to find an excuse to go with them on Friday, whatever it took.
Bob Bellagio had lunch with his brother Paul on Wednesday at a restaurant on Wall Street that both brothers liked. They talked about a big deal Paul was doing, and a killing he had made in the stock market for one of his clients, and how well his son was doing in school. Everything was always perfect in his life, or seemed that way to his younger brother, who had been struggling with his business, had no love life, had never been married, and had no kids. He didn’t even have a dog, and Paul had two. And Paul was married to the perfect woman, who entertained his clients, had brought up their children impeccably, including piano lessons, Mandarin, and windsurfing, did volunteer work for the Junior League, and ran their home like a Swiss clock. Bob always felt like a lesser being whenever he was with him, as though somehow he had failed. Paul’s wife had a law degree but no longer used it. All Bob wanted to do was publish books. It seemed so meager compared to their accomplishments. And all he wanted now was one number-one best seller to justify what he’d been doing for the last five years.
“I think I may have found a winner this week,” Bob said, sounding excited, at the end of lunch. They’d been talking about Paul since they sat down. They usually did, unless Paul told him the many things he was doing wrong in his life and should be doing differently. It was the relationship they’d had all their lives, since they were kids. Paul was perfect. Bob fell short. Their parents saw them that way too, or at least that was Bob’s impression. “It’s a knockout book, written by an Amish girl. I found it totally by accident. I’m going down to meet with her day after tomorrow and buy her book.”
“That’s terrific.” Paul sounded genuinely pleased for him. He always did. The disappointment always crept in later, and the comparisons. “What kind of book can an Amish girl write?”
“A damn good one. Like modern-day Jane Austen. Only better.”
“Will that sell?” He looked concerned for his brother. He had been working so hard for so long, with nothing much to show for it yet.
“It will, like hotcakes,” Bob assured him, and for once he felt strangely confident as he said it. As though he’d found the holy grail. He felt as though he had magic in his pocket. He was absolutely certain Lillibet’s book was going to be a major hit.
“Who’s the girl?”
“All I know is that she’s Amish, in her early twenties, and talented as hell.”
“Ex-Amish, or Amish now?”
“Amish now.”
“Wow, that should be interesting. You can teach her to use indoor plumbing and have her milk a cow on the Today show. How the hell are you going to use her to promote? It’s a little Heidi, no?” Bob hated how clever his brother was with words. Just like their mother, who could still reduce them all to rubble with tongue or pen.
“I haven’t met her yet. We’ve only spoken on the phone.”
“At least she has one. You had me worried for a minute.”
“She doesn’t.” Bob was smiling at him, and for once he wasn’t worried, and his brother didn’t have him scared. He had a secret weapon. Her name was Lillibet Petersen, and she wrote like a dream. “She called me from a dairy farm. I’m meeting her there, if her father lets her.” He was actually enjoying torturing his brother with the image, although he was nervous about it himself. He was determined to work it out.
“And if her father doesn’t?” Paul said, looking intrigued.
“I’ll find her. I’m not going to lose this book. I discovered it totally by accident, in our slush pile. I can’t tell you why, but I think it’s fate.”
“Oh God,” Paul said, looking at his younger brother. “Don’t tell me you’re in love with her. You wait thirty-six years to fall in love, and you fall in love with an Amish girl. Please tell me I’m wrong.”
“I’m in love with her book. You will be too when you read it. She writes like an angel.”
“All right, I’ll grant you that. You’re a great judge of contemporary literature. Just don’t bring her home.”
“Why not?” Bob said, intrigued by the idea. He was fascinated with her, and her voice on the phone had gone straight to his heart. He had been fantasizing about her for days.
“Mom would have a nervous breakdown. I don’t think she’s ready for Amish.” Their mother was one of the toughest lawyers in the city, and the thought of introducing an Amish girl to her made Bob laugh.
“It might do her good.”
“Just get the book. Leave the girl on the farm. Besides, she may not be cute. And she’s young.”
Until the End of Time: A Novel Page 19