The Telling

by Beverly Lewis

  Across the haymow, Yonnie was talking with several other young men, all of them still wearing their Sunday best – white shirt-sleeves rolled up to the elbows, black trousers, suspenders, and their best straw hats. If she hadn’t known precisely who was who amongst them, she might’ve thought they all looked alike in the dim light of the few lanterns scattered around.

  True to her promise, Becky hurried to her side, and they went to sit together on the girls’ side of the long table. Soon the singing began, nearly the same as always, except the songs were a bit faster tonight, with some more “progressive.” Songs Yonnie’s church youth might’ve sung in Indiana.

  She noticed her older brother’s position directly across the table from Priscilla Stahl, like always. But tonight, Grace observed a particular fondness between Adam and Prissy. Does he know what Prissy thinks of Mamma now?

  Much later, when the songs were done, Grace noticed Henry Stahl amble over to Yonnie, and the two of them talked head to head, Henry’s straw hat hiding their faces.

  She stiffened as she watched them across the haymow. What’s Henry telling him? She could only imagine, given that both fellows and their families had been in attendance at the members’ meeting today.

  But the vote was unanimous....

  Sighing, she turned to leave, trudging down the grassy barn ramp to the pasture. The moon was scarcely visible now. Close to the dark side of the month , she thought. Her friendship with Yonnie was finished – how could it not be? And what about Henry? What concern was it of his that Mamma had committed such sin when she was young?

  Drawing a long breath, Grace felt nearly too frail to shield herself against the possible ongoing talk.

  She walked clear out to the perimeter of Preacher Josiah’s field. The sky had turned completely dark. For a moment, she wished she’d brought along a flashlight.

  “Lord, you see me,” she whispered. “You see Mamma, too... and Heather. Thank you for their precious reunion. May it be blessed with understanding and tender mercy.” She still could hardly grasp her family’s new reality.

  In the distance, near the barn, she saw a glimmer of light dance back and forth – like a lantern swinging gently. Following the light, she walked in a straight line toward it, keeping her eyes on the mysterious golden glow.

  Soon, she realized someone was coming this way, though he or she couldn’t possibly see very far in the pitch-blackness. She wondered if it might be Adam, hoping to find her, worried as he sometimes was.

  Now she was within several yards of the light and the person carrying it. Goodness, but she recognized it was Yonnie who carried the lantern. Looking for me?

  Sensing what was surely ahead, she stiffened. Then she heard Yonnie’s voice, pleasant as always. “Gracie... what’re you doin’ out here alone?”

  “Just walkin’.”

  “Could ya use some light, maybe?” He paused for a moment, then fell into step with her. “Some company, too?”

  She laughed a little. He sounded so jovial, but that was Yonnie.

  “Your mother’s a mighty brave woman,” he said.

  She agreed.

  “I wasn’t surprised she was voted back in without a shunning,” he admitted.

  A little startled at that, she replied, “Truth be told, I wasn’t sure what would happen.”

  “The People here aren’t unreasonable,” he said. “A mighty nice thing.” He added that he had been glad to see her father go to the front to help her mother up. “Somethin’ my own Daed might’ve done.”

  His words moved her deeply. “Denki... for that.”

  He stopped walking and faced her, the golden circle from his lantern surrounding them. “You know, I wasn’t sure if I should ask you... well, twice.” His subdued laughter carried across the field. “But, Gracie, I’d love to court ya... if you’ll have me.”

  Her heart, which had sunk earlier, was beating fine again as her fear began to subside. Yet it was impossible not to recall Henry going out of his way to talk with Yonnie back in the barn.

  Still, Yonnie was asking her to be his girl – again!

  She pondered his question. They would be a couple, and – fond as she was of him – wouldn’t that be a wonderful- gut thing?

  As if sensing her uncertainty, he said, “If you’re wonderin’... Henry says you were right to break things off with him. He holds no ill will toward you, Gracie.”

  She wanted to cry right there. Her former beau had essentially given his blessing.

  Yonnie reached for her hand. “I’m ready to win your heart.”

  Tears coursed down her face as Grace looked into his smiling eyes and laced her fingers through his. “Oh, Yonnie... you already have.”

  Epilogue

  The September afternoon was not only brisk in temperature but golden in color, and I was missing Heather. Taking a short break from making apple dumplings and apple pies – with my favorite herbal ingredient, rosemary – I sat down at the kitchen table to write her a letter. The enticing smells of cinnamon and brown sugar lingered in the kitchen as I shared my dearest secret with my new sister.

  In the months since we learned the truth, Mamma and I’ve been blessed to receive oodles of letters from Heather, as well. She sounds relieved to be finishing up her master’s thesis soon, all the while preparing the Virginia house to sell... having left Bird-in-Hand the Tuesday after Mamma’s confession. That house was just recently put up for sale, since Heather’s most recent blood tests were quite encouraging. Thank the dear Lord!

  Earlier, Heather had told me she’d received a promising report on her first round of blood work, six weeks after leaving the Wellness Lodge. Her original doctor is still rather guarded, if not skeptical. Though I hope to make him a believer in naturopathy yet, Heather wrote. Time will determine that, along with her long-term prognosis. She’ll have follow-up appointments with Dr. Marshall here, once Heather returns in November, the beginning of Amish wedding season.

  As for the much-awaited letters from the adoption registry, both Mamma and Heather received word back from Ohio within just a short time. Each made a copy of her letter to send the other, to document what they already knew. Not a soul could ever begin to persuade our mother that finding Heather in such a unique way was anything but our heavenly Father’s doing. And, too, finding Mamma has brought such peace to Heather! Truly, she’s a delightful addition to our entire family. I expect Samuel Graber will be just as pleased to welcome her into his family come Christmas, when Heather hopes to contact him. I daresay Heather is quite courageous!

  Hurrying out to the mailbox now, I breathed in the pungent scent of woodsmoke and slipped my special letter inside. I really wish I could see Heather’s face when she receives it, because it won’t be too much longer until Yonnie and I will be published, following the second Preaching service in November. Reserved as he is, Dat will stand before the membership after the final prayer and invite everyone who is courting age and older to my parents’ house on Tuesday, November twenty-fifth. Ach, but Dat and Mamma will be so pleased when they know for certain that Yonnie and I are, indeed, a match. To think I’ll be the bride of an assistant buggy-maker – almost laughable, since Yonnie was always eager to go on foot nearly everywhere!

  Then, just two days after our wedding, my new husband and I – and my family, including Dawdi Jakob and Mammi Adah – will visit with Heather and her father again. She and Jim “Wannalive” Lang are coming to Roan Nelson’s new house for Thanksgiving. A mighty healthy feast is planned, with many locally grown vegetables and one exceptionally large, free-range organic turkey. Even Dr. LaVyrle Marshall is invited – perhaps to help with the meal preparations. Seems she and Heather’s father have been seeing each other quite a lot lately, what Heather calls a most interesting “side effect” of her treatment here.

  Raising the wooden flag on the mailbox, I glanced up the road, toward the phone shanty, wanting to sometime give Heather a call – surprise her . But today there were more pies to bake for the roadside stand.
Oh, the amount of fruit preserves we’ve sold, too, with wonderful- gut herbs mixed in – peaches with thyme and stewed tomatoes with basil. We’ve also sold lots of pumpkins cut straight from the vine, thanks to Adam’s hauling the largest ones to the stand in Dat’s old wooden wheelbarrow. A big help!

  I turned toward the house, still soaking up God’s vivid handiwork – the yellow, orange, and crimson trees that marked the flow of Mill Creek. The sugar maples were altogether fiery red, alive with color.

  Mamma spotted me coming and waved as I walked past the kitchen window. She’s more settled than I’ve ever known her. Forgiven by God and the People, Dat said months ago.

  I’d say she’s forgiven herself, too.

  Before Heather left in June, Mamma gathered up the remaining poetry books from Samuel Graber and gave them to Heather, who was mighty glad for them. “This is all I have of my birth father,” she said, even though Mammi Adah insisted she also has some of his facial features. I have a hunch Samuel’s twin sister, Sarah, just might come to Bird-in-Hand once she learns of Heather’s identity. And she will, too. You just can’t keep something like that a secret – once it’s known.

  “We’re comin’ full circle, ain’t?” Mamma said to me with a knowing smile not long ago.

  “Like the tide.” I thought back to my day trip to Cape May, New Jersey, in early August. Yonnie lined up Martin Puckett to drive us, and surely it was the best surprise of my life... other than stumbling accidentally into my half sister over at Eli’s Natural Foods last spring!

  Yonnie and I searched for more of those Cape May diamonds, but we didn’t find a single one that bright and happy afternoon. We did walk for hours along the shoreline, though, amidst the shrieks of seabirds and the roar of waves, breathing the salty air and eating more than our share of cotton candy before returning home that night. It was there we held hands and promised to share our hearts for always – nary a secret! And we pledged our dearest love... not just to each other, but to our gracious Lord. For all the days of our lives.

  Acknowledgments

  These are the incredible people God has handpicked to make my writing world go round, and for whom I am particularly grateful:

  Hank and Ruth Hershberger, who helped with details regarding Lettie’s kneeling confession.

  The good folk at the Lancaster Mennonite Historical Society, who specialize in historical accuracy and are most helpful.

  Barbara Birch, my dear sister, who generously shared her journal account of her naturopathic battle plan for fighting her cancer, nearly six years ago.

  David Lewis, my husband and first editor, who lives and breathes fiction just as I do. And who makes very green, very healthy breakfast drinks for me!

  My industrious and cheerful consultants, who double- and triple-check Amish-related facts and review and proofread entire manuscripts.

  My friends and colleagues at Bethany House Publishers – Jim and Ann Parrish, who continue to believe in my work and cheer me on with their prayers. Dave Horton, who schedules my writing deadlines with an eye for practicality and helps develop my best book ideas. And Steve Oates, who has a remarkable way of getting my books into the hands of multitudes of readers and who plans the fastest-paced book tours known to man... or woman.

  Julie Klassen and Rochelle Glöege, my incredible editors, whose ingenious creativity and expert edits advance my writing, making the journey truly joyful and fun. Thanks also to Helen Motter, my wonderful copy editor.

  Debra Larsen, Jim Hart, and Noelle Buss, my publicists, whose marketing and promotional expertise are second to none.

  Paul Higdon and Dan Thornberg, whose imaginative way with cover design and illustration prompts me to send thank-you emails in an enormous font when I first lay eyes on mock-ups. You guys keep me smiling-happy!

  Virginia Campbell, for the delightful piecrust-making anecdote, straight from the “life pages” of her own childhood.

  Mary Jane Hoober, for superb and prompt research about Indiana Amish culture.

  Judith Lovold, who kindly shared information on ailing old mares, such as dear Willow.

  Martha Nelson, whose wise and encouraging words lift my spirits when I’m on deadline... and before and afterward, too.

  Lee and Carol Birch, whose expert knowledge of lambing is greatly appreciated.

  Susan Pelham, who quite humorously combined the words FaceTube and said I could use it in this book.

  Mona Paulson, for specific help with all things Deitsch!

  My faithful partners in prayer, whose time spent before the throne of grace helps keep my eyes ever focused on heaven’s calling. To God be the glory!

  BEVERLY LEWIS, born in the heart of Pennsylvania Dutch country, is The New York Times bestselling author of more than eighty books. Her stories have been published in ten languages worldwide. A keen interest in her mother’s Plain heritage has inspired Beverly to write many Amish-related novels, beginning with The Shunning, which has sold more than one million copies. The Brethren was honored with a 2007 Christy Award.

  Beverly lives with her husband, David, in Colorado.

  By Beverly Lewis

  Seasons of Grace

  The Secret • The Missing • The Telling

  ___

  Abram’s Daughters

  The Covenant • The Betrayal • The Sacrifice

  The Prodigal • The Revelation

  ___

  The Heritage of Lancaster County

  The Shunning • The Confession • The Reckoning

  ___

  Annie’s People

  The Preacher’s Daughter • The Englisher • The Brethren

  ___

  The Courtship of Nellie Fisher

  The Parting • The Forbidden • The Longing

  ___

  The Postcard • The Crossroad

  ___

  The Redemption of Sarah Cain

  October Song • Sanctuary* • The Sunroom

  ___

  The Beverly Lewis Amish Heritage Cookbook

  www.beverlylewis.com

  *with David Lewis

  The Telling

  Copyright © 2010

  Beverly M. Lewis

  Cover design by Dan Thornberg, Design Source Creative Services

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

  E-book edition created 2010

  ISBN 978-1-4412-0755-5

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of

  Congress, Washington, DC.

  Table of Contents

  cover

  title page

  dedication

  epigraph

  prologue

  poem

  chapter one

  chapter two

  chapter three

  chapter four

  chapter five

  chapter six

  chapter seven

  chapter eight

  chapter nine

  chapter ten

  chapter eleven

  chapter twelve

  chapter thirteen

  chapter fourteen

  chapter fifteen

  chapter sixteen

  chapter seventeen

  chapter eighteen

  chapter nineteen

  chapter twenty

  chapter twenty-one

  chapter twenty-two

  chapter twenty-three

  chapter twenty-four

  chapter twenty-five

  chapter twenty-six

  cha
pter twenty-seven

  chapter twenty-eight

  chapter twenty-nine

  chapter thirty

  chapter thirty-one

  chapter thirty-two

  chapter thirty-three

  chapter thirty-four

  chapter thirty-five

  chapter thirty-six

  chapter thirty-seven

  chapter thirty-eight

  epilogue

  acknowledgments

  author bio

  book list

  copyright