Heritage of Lancaster County 02 The Confession (2 page)

A magnificent Christmas tree stood sentinel in the corner of the expansive entryway, adorned with white doves and lambs to represent divine peace and the Lamb of God respectively. There were lovely cream-colored roses, ivory stars, clumps of dried baby's breath and hydrangeas, and

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hundreds of twinkling white lights.

Laura breathed in the pine scent, relishing the rich holiday fragrance. Will I live to see another Christmas Day? she wondered, glancing away from the enormous tree.

She fought back tears. Will I live to see my Katherine face- to-face?

Faithful Theodore guided her chair down shimmering marble halls to the wide French doors in the south wing of the Bennett estate, at which point the venerable gentleman stepped aside, relinquishing the .job to Natalie Judah, the nurse. "Do have a good evening, Mrs. Bennett," he said in a near whisper.

"Oh, I will, and you really mustn't worry." Then, motioning for him to lean closer, she said, "Remember... not a word to anyone. Are we agreed?"

"As you wish." Before straightening to his full height, Theodore pulled a long envelope from his vest Docket.

"Shall I tend to this matter on your behalf?."

Laura had only to nod.

"Consider it done, Mrs. Bennett. Good evening." And he was gone.

Once settled in the commodious suite of rooms, Laura allowed Nurse Judah to assist in removing the wrap she'd donned for her errand. That done, she extended her arm as Natalie checked her pulse with a gentle touch. Frowning, the young RN--dressed all in white, including hose and shoes--then smiled the faintest of smiles and patted Laura's arm. "You've had a strenuous afternoon," she remarked, turning to speak to Rosie. "I think it would be best to serve supper here.., in Mrs. Bennett's private quarters."

Rosie bit her lip momentarily, then made an obvious attempt to conceal her concern and came near the wheelchair, resting her hand lightly on Laura's shoulder. "I'll see to it."

Laura watched as her nurse set about preparing to administer the regular evening injection of morphine. Reticent

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and edgy, she stared at the needle. "If you don't mind,

awhne, she asked, not couldn't it wait., perhaps for just " "

certain why she'd made such a request.

"Oh? Are you experiencing some kind of discomfort? Nausea? Pain?"

The truth was, there had been no ill effects of her afternoon outing. "I'd just like to rest a bit.., it's been a tiring day," she replied.

"We must be more careful from now on," Natalie reprimanded softly. "You mustn't overdo, Mrs. Bennett."

Laura understood perfectly, for her most recent attacks had come on with excessive fatigue and emotional stress, so much so she had made the decision to move her rooms to the main floor, primarily out of concern for her husband.

A man of disciplined work hours, many of which were spent in his upstairs office suite, Dylan Bennett was easily distracted, and what with her needing constant medical attention, and with Nurse Judah and Rosie coming and going at all hours, she had relocated. More convenient for all concerned. Indeed, essential for other reasons unknown to her husband of nine years.

As a relatively new believer--Laura had become a Christian three years prior--she maintained her heavenly Father was in control of her very life and that of her long-lost child's. More recently, she had begun to pray in earnest for God's will as to her and Katherine's reunion--a reunion her husband might not welcome. A solitary afternoon would suffice for such a visit, but she knew in the depths of her being it must be soon ... very soon, before the crippling disease advanced to claim her life.

The prayers and devotional time she enjoyed with other Christian women--Rosie Taylor, her personal housemaid, in particular--had become a thorny problem, presenting something of a nuisance for Dylan. Her husband, who did not share her newfound faith, had discouraged her from

21 having Bible studies and prayer groups on the premises. Had he put his foot down and absolutely denied her this social and spiritual outlet, she would have obeyed, out of respect. She could only pray that Dylan would never resort to such a harsh measure.

During one such discourse, Laura had to gently remind him that the estate, in fact, was legally hers--her childhood home--having been left to her upon the death of }er widowed mother, Charlotte Mayfield, twelve years earlier. The comment was not well received by Dylan, causing more of a rift between them.

Even so, Laura would occasionally invite a church friend or two for an intimate gathering, trusting that someday in God's perfect time, Dylan might join her in the study of the Scriptures. More important, that he would come to find peace with the Savior for himself.

It had not occurred to her, however, that by making arrangements to alter her will, she might be adding*fuel to the already stormy debate. In fact, not until Mr. Cranston, her attorney and private counsel, had mentioned it today had she even considered the matter to be an issue. Her ultimate decision was not borne of a vindictive agenda; she was merely following the footsteps of her sensible and loving mother. That was the extent of it.

But she must be discreet. And, for now, Dylan was not to be the wiser.

Natalie Judah went in search of her patient's warmest slippers, moving quickly past the lovely dressing room area, complete with jacuzzi bath and vanity, toward the large walk-in closet. On the way, she grappled with her growing emotional attachment to the kind yet determined woman

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she had been assigned to nurse through a prolonged and difficult illness.

Laura Bennett. A woman with so little life left in her. Nothing in Natalie's medical training had prepared her for the intense empathy she had come to experience with her first in-home patient, a woman much too young to be dying. In fact, Natalie had found it practically impossible to maintain, as she'd been taught, a semblance of "professional detachment" in the face of Laura Bennett's single-minded goal--obsession, even. So with all the nursing skills at her command, Natalie had determined to do her best to keep Mrs. Bennett alive to realize her fondest dream--to meet the daughter she'd given away at birth, the infant who would by now be a young woman.

Sadly, all this presented a real dilemma. The very objec-

tive that drove the poor woman had the capacity to further weaken her, both physically and mentally.

At times, her patient's diagnosis tore at Natalie's heart,

for malignant multiple sclerosis was an explosively progressive disease. She did not have to be forewarned as to how the final stages would play out.

Laura gazed with interest at the live miniature twin Christmas trees perched on the cherry sofa table across the room on the very edge of her favorite Tibetan damask rug. Red velvet bows and long strands of wooden beads garnished the matching trees, resplendent even without tinsel or lights. She thought of all the Christmases she had missed with her daughter, the never-ending preparations, the gala events surrounding the season . . . hers, completely devoid of the laughter of children.

Had Katherine as a youngster fallen in love with the splendor, the music of Christ's birthday? Laura sighed as her

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thoughts flew backward in time. What sorts of things did Amish folk do to celebrate? she wondered. Had Katherine come to know the truest significance of the blessed season? Laura could only assume so, for surely the Amish knew and loved the Bible as she did.

Letting her mind wander, she considered the Plain community she'd secretly visited last month while searching for signs of Katherine. What was the chance of an Amish family giving up one of their own kin--by blood or otherwise--to spend time with a stranger, and all in response to a desperate plea?

She thought back to the crucial letter, and if she had been able to stand and walk to her writing desk, she would have done so, for in the narrowest dra{ver lay a copy of her message to Rebecca, the adoptive mother of her child. Still, she knew it by heart--every word of it.

The baby girl I gave to you has been living in my heart all these years. I must speak the truth and say I am sorry I ever gave her away. Now, more than ever, because, you see, I am dying.

Once again, her eyes drifted to the identical Christmas trees. Their bows and beads dazzled her, and she knew why, as a girl, her favorite colors had been red and green. She stared deep into the dense branches, daydreaming of other holidays.., the breezy, casual days of girlhood, years before her precious baby daughter was ever conceived.

Tears sprang to her eyes. Then, without warning, the colors began to blur. Laura felt the hideous muscular jerking, starting on her left side. Frightened and experiencing intense pain, she placed both hands on her thigh, praying silently for the tremors to cease.

When they did not, she removed her hands slowly from her upper leg, hoping to conceal her true condition from the brunette nurse who had just come into the room, carrying

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fluffy blue slippers. Laura squeezed her fingers together, locking them into a folded position, and pressed them hard against her lap.

Natalie was not to be fooled, however. "Mrs. Bennett, I really must give you a shot now ... before your supper comes." The soft-spoken woman stooped to remove Laura's shoes, replacing them with her favorite house slippers. Nurse Judah rose and offered a reassuring smile, giving Laura the courage to accept the intimidating injection.

Then, before the drug was ever administered--while the nurse prepared the syringe--the dreadful dizziness began. During the past several days, light-headedness had frequently accompanied the frenzied trembling. It was at such moments she would lose control and cry out, fighting offher pain with the best antidote she knew. "Oh, Lord Jesus, please . . . please help me," she would pray, whimpering.

Nurse Judah swabbed the vein gently. The moist cotton ball made a chilling, unwelcome path along the crease of Laura's arm.

"Can you make a fist, Mrs. Bennett?"

It was all she could do to cooperate at first, but slowly Laura willed her body to relax, and as the medication entered her bloodstream, the morphine began to work its miracle.

After the uncontrollable quaking had ceased, a cloud of exhaustion gathered over her. In the midst of this heaviness, Laura thought of her long-lost girl and feared her own time was short.

Theodore Williams made his way out of the house to the limousine still parked in front of the grand entrance. Getting into the car, he thought of Mrs. Bennett's insistence on being driven downtown today. She'd certainly not looked well;

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anyone could see that. But she seemed determined, at all costs, to discuss her last will and testament with Mr. Cranston.

Theodore's suspicions could not be quelled--the ailing woman must have it in her mind that she wasn't long for this earth, for it was the urgency in Rosie Taylor's voice, when she'd phoned at noon on behalf of the mistress, that had alerted him.

"Mrs. Bennett will not be satisfied till you agree to take her," the maid had said, stating quite clearly that no one else would do. "She insists on having you ... and keep quiet about it, too." It was the latter remark that worried him greatly.

A more kindhearted lady Theodore had never met, and because Mrs. Bennett was not one to engage in manipulation or deceit, he was moved to help her as he had on at least one previous occasion. The memory served him still--that dreadful day when it was discovered her husband, shrewd man that he was, had been careless with the dear lady's accounts.

It was then that the mistress had taken Theodore into her confidence, a rather rare and ponderous position for an old Britisher solely in her employ. But he'd pulled it off

and quite successfully, too--arranging to drive her to an independent law firm, one completely divorced from Dylan Bennett's own accounts and financial dealings. To this day, and as far as Theodore knew, the man had not the faintest knowledge of any of it. None whatever.

Prudence dictated that Theodore would continue to keep this tidbit as quiet as the present afternoon's journey. when--he had a most ominous feeling--Mrs. Bennett i..'d gone and altered her will.

He parked the black limo beside the white one, then opened his overcoat, reaching into his suitcoat pocket. where he pulled out the long linen envelope, unsealed. He

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would not investigate its contents, to be sure, and since it was too late to secure it in Mrs. Bennett's safe deposit box tonight, he locked up the envelope in the glove compartment of the car and headed for the gatehouse.

I'll take care of it tomorrow, he told himself. Yes, indeed. First thing tomorrow.

27 Lydia Miller turned off Hickory Lane and onto the dirt driveway adjacent to the farmhouse. She parked her car in the detached garage bordering the converted barn, where her husband and two of their oldest sons had, years ago, set up a woodworking shop on the main level. She saw that the lights were still on in the office area. Noticing, too, the abundance of light streaming from nearly all the windows on this side of the house--upstairs included--she chuckled, making her way across the snowy barnyard, arms heavy with two sacks of groceries.

Katie Lapp's certainly having herself a heyday, she thought. The electric bill was sure to reflect it.

Approaching the house, Lydia wondered what it might've been like to grow up Amish with few, if any, comforts of a modern home. The mere thought of gas lamps, battery-operated water pumps, and horses and buggies made her grateful for the decision her elderly parents had made long ago--choosing a conservative Mennonite fellowship over the Amish church.

When Katie opened the back door, Lydia almost forgot to address her by the new name but caught herself in time. "How was your afternoon... Katherine?"

28 A smile as bright as a rainbow crossed the young woman's face. "I used the telephone today for the first time. Ach, it ain't so awful hard, I guess."

Lydia shrugged her shoulders. "It'll be old hat soon enough."

"Jah, I hope so."

Setting her groceries on the table, Lydia turned to the