The Missing

by Beverly Lewis

  “Grace, I’d like you to meet my father, Roan Nelson.”

  Grace returned his cordial smile as he reached to shake her hand. “Hullo, I’m Grace Byler. I can certainly see you’re father and daughter, you look so much alike.”

  Heather grinned at her father.

  “Very nice to meet you, Grace,” Mr. Nelson said. “Heather’s been telling me about meeting you at the local natural food store.”

  “Oh . . . jah. I enjoyed our chat very much.”

  “Grace ‘lives neighbors’ to the Riehls’, as Becky likes to say,” Heather replied, the highlights in her light brown hair shining gold in the sunlight.

  “I see,” Mr. Nelson said, eyes twinkling.

  “I ran out hopin’ to catch you . . . so we can plan our visit to Sally Smucker.”

  Heather pushed her thick hair behind one ear. “Great. I was hoping.”

  “Does the day after tomorrow suit ya?”

  “Okay with you, Dad?” Heather asked. “Do you have anything planned for Sunday?”

  “Don’t worry about me, kiddo. I can manage alone for a few hours,” Mr. Nelson said, offering a smile to Grace. “You girls go and have your fun.”

  “Sounds good,” Heather said. “How about that morning?” Then, quickly, she frowned and shook her head. “Wait. I wasn’t thinking—don’t you attend church on Sundays, Grace?”

  “Ev’ry other Lord’s Day we go to Preaching service—same as the Riehls.”

  “Are you members of the same group?” Mr. Nelson asked.

  “Jah, my parents joined this church years ago—long before I was born.”

  “Then your preacher must be Josiah Smucker?” Heather asked.

  “That’s right . . . Sally’s husband.”

  Excitedly, Heather told her father, “Your building contractor is Grace’s minister.” Then to Grace she said just as animatedly, “Josiah’s building my father’s new house, up the road.”

  Simultaneously they turned to look toward the north as Heather pointed in the direction of the newly purchased land. “We’ll soon be neighbors,” Mr. Nelson said. “Well, at least I will be.” He reached an arm around his daughter’s shoulders.

  “Then let me be the first to say it: Willkumm to the neighborhood.” Grace almost said “our neighborhood,” but it was one thing for a modern family like the Spanglers to have lived amongst them for many years. But for Englischers to move in from out of state?

  “I’ll come over after dinner Sunday, then, if that’s all right,” Grace said.

  “Dinner? Let’s see—at noon, right?”

  Grace nodded. “Some folk call suppertime dinner and dinnertime lunch.” She laughed, feeling much more relaxed with the two of them than at first. “Mandy and I’ll put on a light spread for my father and brothers. Mandy’s my sister—maybe you’d like to meet her sometime.”

  “Terrific.”

  “Oh, and I’d like to show you my herb garden, too. Herbs are pretty easy to grow, and so many have healing properties.”

  Heather glanced in the direction of the backyard. “I’d love a tour of your garden.”

  “Maybe next week?”

  Heather looked tentative, glancing quickly at her father. “Uh, since I might be unavailable the week after that . . . maybe that’s a good idea.”

  “Gut, then.”

  “Actually, Monday’s fine. And I’ll see you Sunday after dinner at the Riehls’, too,” Heather added. “Well, we’d better finish up our walk. Nice seeing you, Grace.” Heather and her dad headed back toward the road.

  Grace recalled Becky’s assessment of her acquaintance with Heather. She doesn’t seem distant at all—quite the contrary. Grace fleetingly wished she could fall into step with the Nelsons and continue the pleasant conversation. But Mandy was expecting help with the dishes. “Enjoy your walk,” she called after them.

  Heather and her father turned and waved again.

  When Grace was back in the house, she told Mandy her plans. “I’m goin’ to spend some time with the Riehls’ long-term boarder Sunday afternoon.” She waited for Mandy’s reply, but oddly enough her sister was quiet. Grace continued, “What do ya think Dat would say ’bout us showing someone fancy the herb garden?”

  Mandy shrugged. “Ask him.”

  “What’s a-matter, sister?”

  “Honestly, Grace—lately you’ve been runnin’ off and leaving all the redding up to me.”

  Grace sighed. “It’s becoming a chore to keep everyone happy round here.”

  Mandy scrunched up her nose. “Sei net so rilpsich—Don’t be so rude!”

  “Sorry, Mandy,” Grace said softly. “Maybe an afternoon apart will do us both gut.”

  Once the dishes were dried and put away and the floor swept, Grace rushed out to the barn to check on Willow. She glanced at her herb garden on the way and decided the plot could use a close weeding before Heather came by on Monday.

  Then, going to the part of the barn that served as the horse stable, she slipped in the back entrance to avoid running into Yonnie. Crouching low, she stroked Willow’s neck, talking softly to her. “How’re you doin’?” Grace ran her hand down the mare’s leg, just as she’d seen her father and Yonnie do. She gave her a sugar cube and caressed her long, beautiful nose, hoping for the best. “Don’t give up, ol’ girl,” she said before she left to return to the house, heading for Mammi Adah’s sewing room.

  Picking up the two pieces of the pattern, Grace sat down at the old trundle sewing machine. First she sewed the dress seams, pulling the straight pins out at well-spaced intervals and pressing them between her lips.

  At last she had the long seams sewn and next, the waistband. When that was done, she glanced at the day clock on the east wall, deciding she would not have time to finish the handwork before she needed to begin the evening meal. But she felt pleased with all she had accomplished, as well as a bit surprised Mammi Adah hadn’t poked her head in to see how she was coming along.

  Monday afternoon she hoped to make time for Mammi’s fitting so that she could mark the hems for the sleeves and the dress itself. Once all the washing is done and hung out to dry. Grace rose and moved to the window, taking in the lovely day, and raised the window to let in the fresh air. Her eyes caught sight of a piece of paper taped to the wall; numerous names of birds and descriptions of their songs were written in pencil.

  Mammi Adah had placed the list there when she and Dawdi had first moved to Beechdale Road—a list similar to Mamma’s downstairs. A veritable register of pure joy for the birdwatchers in the family.

  Grace hung up Mammi Adah’s dress and placed the hanger carefully on the wooden peg across the room. The seams could be pressed flat with her gas-fired iron before Monday’s fitting.

  Thinking again of her family’s love of birds, she hurried down to check on the mourning dove feeding trays Dat had set up for Mamma. She’d have to see about their other bird feeders, as well. It had been nearly a week since she’d done so, and she blamed her negligence on being scatterbrained of late. So much to do with Mamma gone. It was a good thing she no longer had a serious beau to busy her up. Preacher Josiah had emphasized in a recent sermon that it was better for courting-age girls not to be so concerned with marriage as a goal, but rather to think on having life hereafter . . . getting into the kingdom of God.

  Grace saw the wisdom in this caution. Nearly all of her girl cousins were overly enthusiastic about getting married and starting their families. Mandy, too, seemed preoccupied with courting. It was hardly surprising when they were trained from early on to become wives and mothers. There was little else for an Amishwoman to do, since education past eighth grade was forbidden and any sort of skilled job was taboo. Even so, Grace was unexpectedly glad to be free of any hope of marriage.

  As she filled the trays with seed, she wondered when Dat might be assigned to have Preaching service here again at the house. Secretly, she hoped it wouldn’t be for quite a while yet, since Mamma’s absence was so painful. Not only for her a
nd the family, but for all the womenfolk. Her mother had done something most wives and mothers amongst the People would never consider. True, most folk—like Marian Riehl and Mamma’s many sisters—had been quite considerate, choosing not to bring up what they already knew. And what they surely dread, all of them. Yet deep down, the silence troubled Grace. It’s almost as if they’re acting like nothing’s wrong, she thought sadly.

  Yonnie startled her, standing as he was a few feet away from the finches’ bird feeder. “Hullo, Grace. Need some help?” he asked.

  She didn’t really, although the seed bag was a bit heavy. “You can carry the seed if ya want.”

  He quickly took it from her. “We’ve had some unusual birds comin’ up to our feeders at home. Looked nearly like seabirds to me.”

  “Seabirds?” She smiled, catching his eye.

  “Jah.” He smiled back. “Have you ever been to the ocean?”

  “No,” she said, surprised.

  “I have,” he said, his blue eyes alight. “Just once.”

  Suddenly, she felt incredibly curious. “When were you there?”

  “My Dat surprised Mamm last summer. She’d always wanted to go swimming.” He grinned. “But that’s another story.”

  “Oh?”

  He looked sheepish. “Well, she doesn’t own a swimming suit. . . .”

  Grace couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Ya mean she wore her dress and apron in swimming?”

  “I didn’t say that, no.” He paused. “My father figured out something modest . . . that’s all I know.”

  Grace felt as if she’d somehow crossed a line. It was strange talking so openly with him.

  Yonnie held the seed bag while Grace dipped her cup inside. He leaned closer as she sprinkled the birdseed into the feeder. “I went looking for seashells with my sister Mary Liz and three of our younger brothers,” he said. “We all went searching up and down the beach for sand dollars, and I stumbled onto a marble-sized Cape May diamond without even tryin’.”

  “A real diamond?”

  “Not at all,” he was quick to say. “But it does look something like crystal.”

  She’d seen crystal goblets at the Spanglers’ house, in the dining room hutch.

  “You can almost see through it,” Yonnie added. “It’s mighty perty.”

  “Could you show it to me sometime?”

  His eyes twinkled. “Why, sure.”

  Grace could scarcely believe this. Yonnie had gone to the ocean with his family and had nature’s souvenirs to prove it!

  They finished filling all the feeders, then walked to the potting shed where Dat kept the sweet syrup for Mamma’s hummingbird feeders. Together, they filled those, too.

  All the while Grace kept glancing toward Becky’s house, hoping she wouldn’t decide to drop by and stumble onto this too-pleasant scene. No telling what she’d presume was going on here in Grace’s backyard.

  Lettie was hungry and wishing she might help Susan in the kitchen. The gracious and cheerful hostess had thus far refused Lettie’s offers to cook and bake. “No, no, I want to treat you,” Susan said again as they sat down to an early supper, her face beaming. “You have no idea the joy such gut company brings me.”

  After the prayer, Lettie passed her the steaming stroganoff casserole. “Well, it’s a blessing for me, too.” She hadn’t breathed a word to Susan yet, but now that she had Dr. Josh’s name, she’d soon be on her way. But first she must write a letter to Cousin Hallie, asking if she might be able to visit her. After all, her cousin might wonder why she hadn’t heard from Lettie in more than a month, and she didn’t want to show up on her doorstep, unannounced, just because she was kin. So by Tuesday or Wednesday—assuming Hallie wrote back immediately—Lettie would know if it suited for her to come for a day or so. Just till I talk to Dr. Josh, she thought.

  For now, though, Lettie could simply relax and enjoy Susan’s delicious meal. If things fell into place, she might just find her daughter—if Minnie had remembered correctly and her child was indeed a girl. Of course, it might take some doing to convince a grown woman to travel to Kidron to meet her biological father. Samuel . . .

  She must not get into a tizzy, contemplating such things. Taking one day at a time had brought her this far. “I’ll clean up the kitchen for you—how’s that?” Lettie offered, dishing up more chowchow. “Since you’re doin’ all the hard work.”

  “Actually, cookin’s fun.” Susan smiled as she leaned forward on the table. “I don’t even mind the redding up. My husband used to tease me that I worked too hard . . . liked to have things all shiny and clean. Nearly before he was finished eatin’, I’d be pulling his plate out from under his nose.”

  Lettie chuckled. She had done the same thing to Judah.

  “Oh, how I miss Vernon.” Susan continued talking, sharing about her life with her late husband. “He was the deacon here in our district for years . . . he never could understand why the Lord God chose him.”

  “ ’Tis a sobering thing, the lot.”

  Susan agreed. “He took his divine appointment seriously. Really took it to heart—just as he did our marriage.”

  “Sounds like you were a wonderful-gut match, then.” Lettie didn’t want to press, yet each time Susan spoke of Vernon, it was impossible not to notice the light in her eyes. She had clearly loved her now-deceased husband. “Was he your first beau?”

  “Honestly, there were several fellas I was fond of . . . and one I hoped to marry.” Susan glanced out the window. “Vernon and I worked hard to make our love grow, even flourish. But it took a period of years.”

  Lettie was surprised to hear this. “Did your first beau marry someone else?”

  “He certainly did—and such a long story ’tis, and rather pointless now.” Susan rose to get the lemon pound cake she’d baked. She sighed, undoubtedly reminiscing over the years as she placed the cake on the table. “I’ll tell you this, Lettie: I’m glad I didn’t wait to let Vernon know how much I cared for him. If he’d passed away, not knowin’ . . . ” She glanced at the empty chair at the head of the table, a faraway look in her eyes. “Might seem odd to honor him like this, but I’ll let nary a soul sit in that seat right there.”

  Lettie recalled her relationship with Judah. Some years had been better than others, but they had never enjoyed the kind of marriage Susan and Vernon had. She felt humbled . . . even a little awed. “Denki for sharing with me.”

  “Happy to.” Susan rose to cut a generous slice of cake and placed it on Lettie’s plate. “I hope you found Minnie all right.”

  “Jah . . . it was wonderful talkin’ with her.”

  “So you’re in the family way, then?”

  Lettie’s fork dropped to her plate. “Ach, no!”

  “I just thought . . . your urgency to find a particular midwife, ya know . . . maybe you’d had good experience with Minnie and wanted her again.”

  Good experience . . . She literally shuddered. The birth of her first baby had been difficult at best. “No, I’m not having a baby.”

  Susan took a bite of her cake. “All right, then.”

  But it wasn’t all right, because Lettie felt she wasn’t holding up her side of the growing friendship. A friendship that, while most likely short-lived, was becoming a balm to her soul. Susan had been forthright with her, but Lettie had clammed up when things got too personal. She just couldn’t imagine airing her dirty laundry. I’m as proud as I am selfish, she realized. Ashamed, she determined to help out round here, as much as Susan would allow. Dear woman, she deserved as much.

  chapter

  sixteen

  As usual, Martin Puckett was right on time that Saturday after dinner. Grace stood at the end of their driveway and Beechdale Road, waiting. It was time to buy in two weeks’ worth of groceries at Eli’s, as she often did on a Saturday when not working at the store. As Mamma and I always did. Using the van to haul the many store-bought items was the best way to handle the bi-monthly chore.

  “Hullo,” she s
aid when Martin greeted her.

  “Looks like nice weather all weekend,” he said, bobbing his head.

  She still couldn’t get it out of her mind that Martin had been the last person she knew who’d seen her mother. Somehow it made her feel tenderhearted toward him. “It’s goin’ to be mostly sunny, Dat says.”

  Then, just as Martin reached to slide open the passenger door of the van, Yonnie came running down the driveway, waving his straw hat and calling, “Wait up. I need a ride!”

  What on earth? Grace couldn’t hide her surprise as he hopped into the second-row seat right next to her. Why not up front with Martin?

  She was taken aback by his bold, if not overly friendly manner. It was fine for him to help Dat with the lambs and her, with the birds . . . but hailing down the same van?

  While Martin moseyed around to get into the driver’s seat, Yonnie asked, “Will ya go walkin’ with me tomorrow afternoon, Grace?”

  Of all things!

  She was befuddled, especially because he’d taken her walking several times last year before doing the same with a number of girls. He had spent more time with Becky than any of them, though.

  “I’m busy tomorrow,” she said, thinking about her plans with Heather.

  “Another day, maybe?” he asked, his expression hopeful.

  If she waited long enough, Martin would open his door and get her off the hook—at least for now.

  “Where are the two of you headed?” Martin asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat. He glanced over his shoulder at Yonnie.

  “We’re not actually together,” Yonnie said, flashing her another quick smile. “I’m heading home, and I’m not sure where Grace’s goin’.”

  Since Yonnie typically remained to help Dat till closer to supper, Grace was even more perplexed by his decision to head home early. Why? To ask her to go walking with him? How many girls does he need to walk with, for goodness’ sake?

  Martin peered at them in the rearview mirror. “Since Yonnie’s house is on the way, we’ll stop there first. That is, after we pick up Miss Becky. She needs a ride to Eli’s, as well.”