Heritage of Lancaster County 02 The Confession (13 page)

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The youngest son usually ended up with his father's main house and the acres surrounding it. And Eli . . . surely Eli wouldn't wanna up and leave.

"Can't go divvying up the land, Dat." Eli shook his head. "Ben's gonna need every inch of your forty-five acres to keep things going here for you and Mam."

Rebecca noticed Samuel's concerned look. Her husband didn't say what she was sure he was thinking. That they'd be moving over to the Dawdi Haus come next fall, so Ben and his bride could settle in here at the main house. Time to be thinking about slowing down some, anyways. Especially since the strangest things had started going on with her here lately.

Samuel knew all about it. He'd caught her playing with the satin baby gown more than once--touching it and talking to it like a precious little infant was a-lying in her arms.

Made her go nearly berserk at times, teetering back and forth between thinking that the little dress--hidden away for her eyes only--was a soothing balm for her soul and, other times, wondering if it hadn't come straight from the pits of hell.

She dried her hands and left the room to go find it. Growing more and more dear to her every day that passed.

Her Katie... gone. Darling baby daughter of her life... shunned. Living out somewhere in the modern world, looking for someone else to call Mamma.

Well, it was more than she could bear. Missing Katie and longing for her company, her sweet voice, seeing her grow up Amish and then losing her near overnight to a complete stranger had been too awful much.

Once in the bedroom, Rebecca located the tiny satin garment. Inside her pillowcase. She'd been keeping it hidden there, away from Samuel's eyes.

She headed for her daughter's old room just down the

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hall, where nothing ever changed. Things stayed exactly the same in Katie's bedroom. Her scant possessions, like her abandoned head coverings and choring clothes, comforted Rebecca. They reached out to her in her deep grief. She hadn't told Samuel just yet, but sometimes, when she held Katie's baby dress close, she could hear the real cries of an infant ....

How long she sat there, she didn't know, but when Benjamin hollered up to her, saying a group of women had just arrived to bake Christmas cookies, she near leaped out of the chair.

"Himmel," she muttered, rushing down the hallway to her and Samuel's bedroom. There, overcome with frustration, she stuffed the little dress back into the pillowcase. How could she have forgotten about the holiday work frolic? Wiped the planned event clear out of her mind.

The womenfolk would wonder about it, all right. Call her ferhoodled, most likely.

She shuddered to think what Samuel might say. How on earth would she convince him this time that she was just fine?

Jah, fine and dandy she was.., everything was wonder- ful-gut. No big thing.

Her face would wear the biggest smile she could muster. Her eyes would sparkle as she greeted her kinfolk and friends.

Still, there was no getting around it. She'd forgotten, but good.

Nurse Judah calculated the morphine dosage and prepared the syringe, uneasy about this powerful narcotic to

125 control Mrs. Bennett's pain. It was bad enough that the dear lady must endure the baclofen drug pump, implanted into the skin of her abdomen, dispersing a muscle relaxant directly into her system.

"How are you feeling this morning, ma'am?" she asked, helping Laura sit up in bed.

Her patient did not reply at first, so she waited, allowing Laura ample time to put on her dressing gown, with Rosie's help. "Oh, I'd give almost anything to be rid of this blurred vision," Mrs. Bennett said softly. "It's terribly an-

noying " She paused. "I disliked causing such a scene

yesterday."

"Please don't be upset," Natalie assured her. "Your daughter is aware of your condition. I'm sure she understands."

Laura nodded. "It's just that I wouldn't want to frighten her away."

Natalie's heart went out to the frail lady. Mrs. Bennett's long-absent daughter had returned just in time for Christmas, and now the poor woman was scarcely able to see the girl, let alone deal with the horribly painful spasms and ever-weakening muscles.

Disappointment was evident in Laura's pale, distressed face. The flare-up had brought the initial visit with her daughter to an abrupt end.

Later, when the shot had taken effect, Natalie and Rosie helped bathe and dress the mistress of the house. Mrs. Bennett's fine motor coordination was rapidly deteriorating, and once again, Natalie could see the tenacious grip malignant MS held over its victims.

"Katie will be down for brunch," Laura mentioned, her eyes brightening a bit. "At least we'll have Christmas Eve together."

Natalie frowned. What was Mrs. Bennett thinking? She couldn't give in to her illness.., not yet.

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Vague as her perception was--Natalie couldn't actually put her finger on it--something wasn't quite right about yesterday's reunion. It just didn't add up.

For one thing, Dylan Bennett had hovered about; the man bothered her to no end. And Rosie had pointed out something else--Katie Lapp's hands.

One would presume that an Amishwoman's hands would be callused from gardening and washing dishes and doing laundry. Katie Lapp's hands, on the contrary, looked like a model's. Anything but the hands of a hardworking Plain woman.

"After today," she heard Laura say, "I don't care what happens. The hospital is certainly an option; I won't put up a fuss. But ... today ... I want this day with Katie, alone."

Rosie's eyes widened. "But you're going to have a wonderful holiday. I know you are."

Putting on a smile, Natalie agreed. "Wait'll you see what Selig and the others are planning for Christmas dinner."

"More... more of that coconut custard pie, I hope," said Mrs. Bennett. '

Natalie smiled. Laura wasn't thinking in terms of dying, not with an appetite for dessert!

She made note of the morphine dosage on the medical chart and replaced it on the top shelf of the linen closet. She could only hope that the narcotic wouldn't begin to suppress respiration. But she was well aware of the vicious cycle, once it started.

"Where did Selig get that wonderful pie recipe?" Laura asked from her wheelchair.

The woman had turned to face Rosie now, Natalie observed, and from where she stood, it appeared that Mrs. Bennett was fairly comfortable. For the present, no sign of pain or spasms.

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"The new housemaid could tell you," Rosie said. "She's the one who made it."

"Oh? A new m-maid? What her n-name?" Laura stumbled over the words.

"Katherine," said Rosie.

A pained expression crossed Laura's face and for a moment, Natalie thought the woman might cry. Rosie must've noticed it, too, for she diverted the subject quickly, calling attention to several small gifts under the twin trees in the sitting area.

But it was Natalie who kept thinking about Mrs. Bennett's apathetic attitude. She'd said she wouldn't make a fuss about going to the hospital. Seemed so out of character, too dispassionate for the mistress--yet a common psychological symptom of her disease.

This troubled Natalie greatly. The woman had just met her daughter--the only child she'd ever borne. And now she seemed ready to give up her fight? Was the illness taking over?

After brunch, when the dishes and leftovers were cleared away, Katherine sat down at the table to fill out the required application form. Birth date, place of birth, social security number. Simple enough. Quickly, she wrote the information, secretly hoping someone--perhaps Laura Bennett herselfmight have a look at it.

When it came to her signature, she paused and glanced at the top of the page, suddenly realizing she had written only "Katherine." No last name. No middle initial.

It would be dishonest to make up a name. Yet she could not risk losing her job or the chance to determine if Laura Bennett was truly her mamma. So she jotted down "Marsh-field," middle initial "L"--for Lapp.

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That done, she was promptly assigned to clean the Tiffany Room--to remake the guest bed, tidy up the bathroom, and lay out fresh linens.

When she knocked on the door, the woman who called herself Katie Lapp was absent from the room. Most likely downstairs with Mrs. Bennett, having a chat--and enjoying a cup of coffee or tea. Katherine would ask if she might help remove the tea service later.

For the present, she was tickled pink to have Katie's room all to herself. It would give her a chance to look around.

129 CUAeTe Twe w

Pausing to catch her breath, Mary Stoltzfus leaned against the windowsill in the Lapps' front room, watching a fall of heavy, wet snowflakes shower down from a thick gray sky.

How much more of this? she thought, for it had been snowing now, days on end. The weather affected her mood, though she wouldn't have complained about it for the world. The land was in need of moisture for the crops, come spring. The Good Lord knew all about that.

She moved away from the window, thinking of Katie. How was she? Was she wishing she could write and answer Mary's letter?

Knowing in her bones that Katie had likely struggled over this very thing, Mary knew it wasn't prudent for her friend to be corresponding with her in any way--not even by postcard. Not because she didn't want to--but because she'd be fearin' for what might happen to Mary if she did!

Thinking that way lifted Mary's spirits a little. But not enough to join the crowd of women in the kitchen. She and her mother and grandmother--along with a number of others in the community--had come to bake Christmas cookies here at the Lapp house. For Mary, it was one of the first

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times back at Katie's former home since the shunning decree.

She heard the chatter and laughter in the kitchen, and glancing back, decided there were so many of them, nobody'd even notice she was missing, probably.

She wondered if Katie might not be feeling the selfsame way today. Maybe even remembering long-ago Christmases spent in Hickory Hollow, speculating about what the People might be doing; whether or not they were thinking of her. After all, there were so many of them in the church dis- trict--a good two hundred and fifty-some folk. What did one lost sheep matter?

Did Katie ever think of Bishop John? Did she ever wonder if he missed her?

Well, if it had been up to her to respond outright to such a peculiar question, Mary would've had to say that the man did appear to be a bit downtrodden. Not completely defeated, mind you. But that sad look in his eyes, and the way he carried it around on his face everywhere he went, that's what gave his feelings away.

More than anything, she longed to ease the pain in those lovely gray eyes, erase the burden in his soul. John Beiler needed someone. So did his five little ones.

Ach, the thought of jumping into a ready-made family, large as it was, near scared her to death. But the power of love could change all that, she knew.

If only the bishop had an inkling how often she thought of him. If only he had the same feelings ....

The bishop was a man chosen to lead the People. What sort of woman would allow sentimental notions over a man of God? Especially a man still getting over being spurned on his wedding day.

Yet romantic whims cluttered her head all the same-- spinning round and only halting when she made a conscious effort to make them stop.

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He deliberately bumped his feet together as he came into the kitchen, muttering to himself.

"What's-a-matter with Jacob?" his big sister asked. The Beiler children gawked from their places around the long table, where they sat making Christmas cards for each other.

"Looks to me like he's got trouble walkin'," said eight-year-old Levi, the bishop's next-to-oldest son. "Didja lop off your toenails too short?" he asked his little brother, chuckling.

"Don't be making fun," warned Hickory John, the oldest. Then to Jacob, "Are ya hurt?"

Jacob glanced at Levi out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't no baby, but--"Jah, I am... I'm hurt clean down to my big toe."

Nancy motioned for him to come sit beside her on the wooden bench. "Let's have a peek at them wounded piggies."

Susie, age six and two years older'n him, started giggling. "Keep your mind on your work," Nancy reminded her. Jacob was awful glad for a big sister like Nancy. Maybe because she reminded him of his mamma. 'Course, he really didn't know, since he was too young to remember her when she died.

He felt his foot relax as Nancy unlaced his heavy shoes and pulled the left one off first. "Which hurts the most?"

He shook his head. "They both hurt, and now I can't walk much. And my heart's beating hard down there." He pointed at his bare foot.

Levi and Susie snickered, covering their mouths.

"S'not nice," Nancy reprimanded. "Think how you'd feel if someone made fun of your toenails!"

The children, Hickory John included, howled in a fit of

132 laughter, and they might've kept it up if their father hadn't spoken up just then.

"It's awful nice to hear my family makin' ready on Christmas Eve," he called to them from the utility room.

Jacob heard Daed's work boots drop to the floor, one at a time. "I chopped off my toes nearly," he hollered out to his father. "And Levi's tormentin' me."

"Tattletales go to hell," whispered Levi.

Nancy grabbed hold of his ears, covering them. But it was too late. He'd heard the wicked word. Levi had just said the word that meant the Bad Place--where the devil lived. T'wasn't no gettin' around it this time. Levi'd have to have his mouth washed out with soap. Served him right, too. He was always spouting off things that got him in trouble with Daed.

Just yesterday, Levi had gotten his behind swatted for saying the same word about Katie Lapp. That she would burn in that brimstone-hot place for getting shunned. For leaving Hickory Hollow.

'Course, Jacob had no idea what being shunned was all about. But since he'd never had a chance to ay good-bye to the pretty redhead who liked to hum a lot--that happy-go- lucky lady who was gonna be his new mamma--since she'd just up and disappeared, well, he figured maybe Katie had gone down there where Levi said. After all, she'd run away on her wedding day, hadn't she? What kinda silly woman would do such a terrible, awful thing?