Heritage of Lancaster County 02 The Confession (17 page)

Without warning, the young woman lunged for the appetizer tray, and without a backward glance, marched into the sitting room.

Katherine stood there aghast--angry, too--unable to comprehend what had just taken place. But one thing she understood, for sure and for certain. This Katie Lapp was no more Amish than the man in the moon!

161 Theodore didn't ever remember a time when the roads had been this treacherous. At every intersection he applied a pumping motion to the brakes to avoid slipping and sliding. Thankfully, the streets were abandoned, as even those shoppers who had procrastinated till the eleventh hour had finally made their purchases. A few huddled here and there, waiting in shop windows for the bus or a taxi.

Clocking his speed, he noticed the limousine was inching along at about nine miles per hour. Maybe less.

"We're going almost as slow as a horse and buggy," he said, chuckling to the passenger in the backseat. "Appropriate, I suppose, as we've been entertaining an Amish- woman at the estate."

Theodore glanced into the rearview mirror at the young man.

Justin Wirth was nodding. "So I hear." He paused a moment, then--"I was surprised, and saddened, to hear of Mrs. Bennett's failing health. She seemed quite well a few months back."

"It's terribly unfortunate, and I'd be the first to say that the kindhearted mistress doesn't deserve such a debilitating illness."

"Seems to me that finding her daughter might serve to raise her spirits."

"One would think so."

"How good of Mr. Bennett to locate the girl," Mr. Wirth remarked.

Theodore gripped the steering wheel. "Mr. Bennett, you say? He was the one to locate the Amishwoman?"

"Didn't you know?" came the reply. "Why, when Mrs. Bennett phoned me, she seemed quite pleased."

"Indeed?" He felt as if he might not be able to pry his hands free from the wheel.

So Dylan Bennett had been responsible for finding Katie Lapp. Of course--it made sense. Perfect sense. He pondered

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the situation. The man was worse than devious. Worse. Why hadn't he put two and two together?

:. :. :.

Natalie wheeled her patient into the bedroom to administer the evening shot. Supper would be served in a few minutes, and she was encouraged by the way Mrs. Bennett seemed to be feeling tonight. Rather a surprise after her exhausting morning.

"Mr. Wirth is an absolute wonder," the mistress remarked. "Braving the weather on a night like this . . . and coming out on such short notice--Christmas Eve on top of it."

It was obvious Laura was pleased. The color had risen in her face, and Natalie noticed a renewed sparkle in the brown eyes.

"You're very lucky, I'd say," she replied. "The mother- daughter portrait will be a lovely gift for Miss Katie."

Mrs. Bennett turned abruptly. "You don't think she will mind, do you?"

"Having her portrait made? Why should she mind? She'll love it."

Mrs. Bennett smiled. "Good."

"Your daughter seems to be having a wonderful time." "Well... it's taken longer for the two of us to warm up to each other than I'd ever anticipated. Perhaps because we have so many years of catching up to do."

Natalie was careful to guide the needle, inserting it into the bulging vein. Mrs. Bennett winced, and Natalie regretted for the hundredth time having to inflict yet more pain on the gentle woman. A soul who never complained, unlike many MS patients who often became irritable and hard to handle.

"Your pain's nearly over," she said softly.

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"I know," said the mistress, blinking. "Yes, I know." The words and the inflection in the weak voice took Natalie by surprise, and without further delay, she unlocked the wheelchair. "We have a party to attend," she said, willing the lump from her throat.

"And a portrait to sit for," Mrs. Bennett added, more brightly. "A portrait with my own dear Katie."

Things seemed to be working out between the mother and daughter, after all. Surprisingly, Katie's interest in Laura had taken a sudden turn, almost to the point that Natalie wondered what had been said or done to liven things up between them.

Oddly enough, she felt she could accurately pinpoint the moment when everything had begun to change. Katie had come in from the hall, carrying the appetizer tray. She'd served her mother first, then glancing over her shoulder, seemed to be looking at someone.

Turning, Natalie had noticed the new maid, apparently too shy to enter the mistress's private quarters. For a moment, the young woman had gazed longingly from beyond the glass doors. And when their eyes met, Katherine had scurried away.

Rosie observed the artist briefly as he set up his easel and canvas in the sitting room, off in the corner, to be sure; nevertheless, his paints and brushes and things were already scattered across the drop cloth beneath.

What an interesting turn of events, she thought. A mother- daughter portrait sitting on Christmas Eve.

Wouldn't Mr. Bennett be surprised when he returned? The man was accustomed to having his way about managing the affairs of the estate--not giving in to what he would surely consider a whim of his dying wife. Rosie sincerely

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hoped Mrs. Bennett's decision to hire the artist would not cause more conflict than merriment for the holidays.

She shoved the gloomy thought aside and went about her duties, assisting in serving the mistress and the woman called Katie Lapp.

The table was tastefully furnished in every respect. Small in comparison to the immense formal one in the dining room, yet charming, enhanced by the mistress's favorite nineteenth-century floral dishes featuring a poinsettia and holly motif over a tablecloth of ecru lace.

The servants had had to scramble to put together this impromptu supper setting, but nary a complaint from Selig or Garrett about the change in plans, Rosie noticed. The mistress was a jewel of a lady, she was. They all loved her unreservedly and would never leave her--not as long as she drew breath. But she'd not think of that--not now.

Without purposely eavesdropping, Rosie caught snatches of conversation as Garrett held and served abundant food platters and matching service dishes for the mistress and her guest. Rosie would assist Mrs. Bennett by feeding her.

"What was it like growing up without electricity?" Mrs. Bennett asked her daughter.

"Ach, not so bad" came the reply. "We made do with oil lamps and lanterns."

Mrs. Bennett leaned forward. "Did you ever entertain secret thoughts, ask yourself how it would be to plug in a radio or television? Or to operate a computer or cook on an electric range in your own home?"

"Not that I remember. But I did always think it would be wonderful to live in a mansion like this."

Rosie chuckled quietly. The unlikely twosome were getting along famously . . . now. Still, she noticed how vague Katie's answers seemed--responses most anyone could give at the drop of a hat.

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In the midst of this congenial conversation, she puzzled over the new maid--Katherine, who seemed to know all about making coconut custard pie, Amish style. Katherine, with hair the identical color of Laura's.

Perplexed, Rosie left for the butler's pantry. She must speak with Fulton as soon as possible.

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The longer Laura posed for the artist, the better she liked what was evolving on canvas. Justin had already begun to create a warm holiday setting, sketching Laura first and leaving a blank space for Katie. "For later," he told her when she casually inquired.

Did he think she might die before he finished? A reasonable assumption, to be sure. The more she thought of it, while sitting as still as the medication would allow, the more she was fairly certain that was the reason Justin concentrated so carefully on her outline alone.

Feeling perkier than she had all day, Laura listened closely as Katie spoke of her life, growing up on an Amish farm. "We were always up by four-thirty every morning, even Sundays. After all, someone had to milk the cows."

Laura found herself laughing along with the woman. She'd turned out to be so very talkative and charming. Laura couldn't quite fathom the difference between the original shy, almost sullen Katie, and this vivacious creature seated across the table from her.

"Tell me about your church services. What sort of music do you sing? Or is there music at all?" Setting down her fork, Katie smiled. "We don't have in-

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strumental music at church. Someone leads out in a song from the hymnbook, and the rest of us join in."

Laura nodded, trying hard to imagine only a cappella

singing for the worship. "Do you sing in English?"

Katie shook her head. "Ne'er."

Impulsively, she asked, "Will you say something in Dutch for me?"

The girl turned pale. "Oh, I mustn't speak it to outsiders.

The bishop wouldn't approve."

"The bishop?"

"He makes all our rules--what we can and can't do around non-Amish folk."

Laura reached out to touch her elbow. "Well, I'm not just any English person, am I?"

Smiling, Katie agreed that she was not. "But it's best I don't break the rules."

Laura folded her hands in her lap, eager for more information about doctrine and religious beliefs. She was met, however, with obvious resistance each time she quizzed her daughter. Katie was clearly uncomfortable. "Very well. Let me tell you something of my own beliefs--my faith in Jesus Christ, my Savior and Lord."

Katie was polite enough to listen, although Laura suspected along about dessert time that her girl was truly bored with the Scripture references and favorite Bible passages she had been quoting. It was evidenced by the way Katie began to fidget and lose eye contact with her, something Laura had so enjoyed earlier in the evening.

"There is only one reason I wish to bring up spiritual matters," she found herself explaining. "I lived my life without Christ for thirty-six long years. Are you familiar with the hymn 'Amazing Grace'? Well, God's love is all that and so much more, and only because I love you, Katie, do I share my personal experience." She took in a deep breath, and

168 praying a silent prayer for guidance, she forged ahead with her personal testimonial.

When she finished, Katie spoke up. "I've never heard such a thing. God's Son coming to earth to die.., for me?"

"The first time I heard it told, I, too, could scarcely take it in."

The younger woman looked pensive. "But I don't see how I could just throw away my Amish belief," came the tentative reply. "My parents.., my adoptive parents would be so hurt. And my brothers and sisters..."

Laura felt weak suddenly. "I don't expect you to believe the way I do just because we've found each other. Please understand that."

Nodding, Katie spoke in a near whisper. "You don't know how hard it's been to leave my family and friends to come here . . . even for this short time."

"I understand, and I appreciate it very much." She sighed, turning the conversation toward Katie's adoptive family. "How many brothers and sisters do you have?"

"Five sisters and four brothers. Most of them are grown and gone."

"So . . . your parents had children before . . . before the stillbirth?" Laura recalled the first moment of meeting. How devastated and forlorn the Amish couple had looked, there in the corridor of Lancaster General Hospital. The day was as fresh on her mind as if it had happened yesterday.

Katie's expression changed; she seemed stunned for a moment.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned--"

"No, no, it was just such a painful time for my parents," the girl said with little emotion. "I first heard about it when I was ten."

"I see." She wondered if Katie had also been informed of the money hidden away in the folds of the baby blanket. The money and the note--showing how much Laura, as an

169 unwed teenage mother, had cared and loved her newborn baby. She hesitated to bring it up, lest the adoptive parents had seen fit to keep that part a secret. Perfectly acceptable, of course. Sometimes undisclosed family secrets were better left alone.

Still, she wondered when the right moment might present itself to speak about the future. The moment she would inform her daughter of her rightful inheritance.

Glancing away, Katie remarked, "Look, how pretty!" Laura turned slightly in her chair to see Justin adding a hearty Christmas tree branch or the canvas background. "Mr. Wirth is an excellent artist--the best--wouldn't you agree? That's why I hired him to paint this portrait."

"How long before it's to be finished?" asked Katie.

"The artist will stay on here through Christmas week. And when the project is complete, the portrait is my gift to

you."

Katie's eyes lit up. "For me?"

"That and so much more." Was now the time to tell her? A burst of gladness swept across Katie's face. "You're the most generous woman I've ever known... Mother." Without warning, the girl stood up and planted a kiss on Laura's cheek.

"You've been in my heart these many years," she said, choking back the tears. "When we are completely alone, you'll hear what I have planned for you."

Laura continued to observe her daughter throughout the course of the evening. How her face shone.., and what radiant love in her eyes!

Indeed, the girl seemed almost giddy with delight.

Rosie managed to track down Fulton and bend his ear with her concerns about the supper conversation she'd over-

170 heard between Mrs. Bennett and Katie.

"I scarcely recognize that Amishwoman anymore," she said when they'd stepped out on the screened-in porch for a quick chat. "She's changed entirely."

Her husband listened, though seemed restless to get back to work. Then, lowering his tone, he said, "I've been noticing Katherine much more than Katie, and I think you and I were on to something before. The new maid has obvious physical traits, if you grasp my meaning."

Glancing about nervously, Rosie agreed. "I have an idea," she whispered. "Do you think we should allow Katherine to help serve dessert tomorrow? Mrs. Bennett's annual birthday cake for Christ?"

Fulton pondered for a moment. "It's worth considering." "Well, shall we plan on it, then?" she asked, happy with the idea that a tradition started by Mrs. Bennett three years back might, in fact, be the perfect moment to usher in the new maid--at least get Katherine inside the private quarters. A marvelous opportunity for the two women to behold each other.., at last. Perhaps then she and Fulton would be able to confirm their growing suspicions.