Heritage of Lancaster County 02 The Confession (22 page)

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week's wash on the front porch clothesline, maybe. She'd never have to know ....

"Can I get either of you some more coffee?" Eve asked as she snuffed out the candles and turned up the dimmer switch.

"Not for me, thanks." Dan watched the spiral of smoke as it curled toward the modest chandelier overhead. "Everything was delicious, Eve. Thank you for sharing your Christmas dinner. I really appreciate it."

"Oh, anytime." She smiled at him and turned to go into the kitchen.

"We mean that, you know." Owen wiped his mouth with the napkin. "Now, about the young woman you mentioned earlier. How will Miss Katie take the news of your being alive?"

Dan wished his friend hadn't mentioned it. "It's hard to say, really, but I don't plan to be around when the People find out about my confession. Katie included."

"So you'll leave Hickory Hollow without seeing her?"

He felt very nearly ill. Never before had he allowed himself to consider how he might handle things.

"She's better off hearing it from Annie. My sister's her oldest brother's wife."

"Ah . . . so you're nearly related, then," offered Owen. Dan hadn't thought of that. Hadn't wanted to. There'd been enough of a love-bond between them without having to look the present facts squarely in the face. He didn't need his and Katie's past tied to an extended-family relationship in order to reconnect them.

Anyway, it was cruel to anticipate such a reunion. He wouldn't taunt himself, wouldn't entertain the hope of having Katie back. No, Elam's little sister was long married. He was almost sure of it.

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As it turned out, Laura hadn't gotten around to telling her daughter about her grandparents--the original owners of the estate. She'd planned to inform Katie of the will earlier this morning. This she felt to be a wise move, since who could tell what Dylan might do to get his hands on the young woman's inheritance after Laura's death?

A violent contracture of her ankle and lower leg had occurred after breakfast, and much to her dismay, Nurse Judah had had to notify the doctor. He, in turn, had ordered an hour of physical therapy. Excruciating as it was, the procedure had limbered up her muscles, easing some of the cramping, as well. But she'd completely missed out on her time with Katie.

Now as she sat in her beautiful dining room, she wondered when the appropriate time might present itself. Between bites of lemon cake, she tried to draw Katie out, to get her to share more of her life in Amish country.

"Perhaps she'd rather not talk about it in front of everyone, dear," Dylan piped up.

From the corner of the room, she noticed the blurred shape of Justin Wirth turn and face this way, curiously. "Oh, but I find the Plain lifestyle fascinating," the artist remarked.

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Laura had nearly forgotten the man was even in the room, he worked so effortlessly, so silently. "Yes," she said softly, the word sticking in her throat. She was having much

more difficulty swallowing. More so each day that passed. "Where is it you come from?" Justin asked Katie.

"Lancaster, Pennsylvania. About five hours south of here."

"Nice place," he remarked.

Laura made another attempt at communicating. "Yes . . it was beautiful even.., even when I visited many... years ago." She was not about to reveal the truth of her most recent journey to Pennsylvania Dutch country. Besides, it was an effort to get the words out today. Sheer frustration had come with this untimely speech impediment where, always before, her enunciation had been precise. She was mortified.

Most upsetting of all was the humiliation of having to be fed in front of her husband and daughter. Still, she would not give up hope. Not until after she'd spoken with Katie in private. Then, and only then, would she allow the disease to run its terrible course.

Here lately, Benjamin Lapp had been spending more time with the family pony, his shunned sister's pony, really. Funniest thing, he couldn't get the animal to come when called. Didn't seem to know his name--Tobias. But it was, after all, the name Katie had given him, long before she'd up and gone ferhoodle disobeying the bishop over a guitar and some ridiculous tunes she'd made up.

Truth was, he couldn't get Tobias to eat much, either. The beautiful animal had turned downright dumb. Ben had told his father and Eli about it, but he guessed they'd decided to pay him no mind, 'cause nobody but Ben seemed

211 to care a hoot about coaxin' the poor thing to eat or drink.

Today he'd decided to try something new. Something sweet, straight from the dinner table. A sugar cookie, with extra sugar sprinkled on top.

He held the treat under Tobias's nose, letting him have a whiff, then crumpled it into the feed trough below. "There now, have yourself some dessert mixed with hay." He stroked the pony's mane. "Katie ain't here to spoil ya rotten, but I am. Now, please, won'tcha eat?"

He heard the scrape of work boots behind him. Turning, he saw his father's scowling face, and the angry words spewed forth. "Benjamin, didn't I tell ya weeks ago not to be mentioning your sister's name in my house? That goes for the barn, too. Your sister's under the shunning, have ya

so soon forgotten?"

"No, sir."

"Well, then, what do ya mean by talking to this pony about that.., that..." His father slumped down, bent his knee to the dirt floor.

"Dat? What's-a-matter?" He ran to his father. Weeping, Samuel leaned his elbow on one knee and smothered his face into his big callused hand. "Your mamma's going crazy, Ben... and I can't just stand by and watch . . watch her .... She's not herself no more."

"Aw, Pop, it'll be all right," he managed to say. "The bishop did the right thing, shunning my sister ... didn't he?"

Shaking his head, Samuel moaned like he was in terrible pain, then he blurted out a whole slew of words in German, hurling profanities into the bitter cold air.

Tobias seemingly understood and began to whinny over and over, shaking his head again and again. But Ben couldn't bring himself to weep along with his father or to have a temper fit with stubborn Tobias. Still, his innards sure felt tore up, but good.

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When it was time, Katherine returned to the dining room with Garrett to clear away the dainty dessert dishes. She took Laura's plate and fork, handed to her by Rosie, and stopped in her tracks when she glanced over at the easel. Mr. Wirth was beginning to sketch some Amish clothing, the impostor's, probably.

She wanted to rush over and set him straight, tell him that not even the fake daughter's clothing represented any of the Lancaster orders. Truth be told, nothing about the woman was honest or decent.

Just when she thought she might disregard Rosie's request and actually speak to the artist while assisting at the table--just at that moment the fork slipped off the plate in her hand, and embarrassed, she bent down to retrieve it. When she did so, her maid's cap fell off and Katherine's hair cascaded over her shoulders.

Justin Wirth turned and looked at her, acknowledging her with a nod, staring at her hair. Their eyes locked for a long, long moment; he released her at last by turning to study his own painting, then glancing over at Katie, who was chattering away to Laura.

"Katherine," prompted Rosie, "you may take the dishes to the kitchen, please."

"Yes, ma'am," she replied, holding her hair back from her face with one hand. She escaped into the kitchen to repair the bun and replace her cap, then hurried back to the dining room.

When she returned for the crystal goblets, she knew she dare not look in the artist's direction. Those scrutinizing blue eyes.., ach, how they haunted her. Disturbed her no end, for they reminded her of Daniel's.

"How do the Amish celebrate Christmas?" Mr. Bennett spoke up.

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Startled for a moment, thinking it was she the man was speaking to, Katherine opened her mouth to reply. Thankfully, she caught herself in time to remember she was no longer Amish. In time to overhear a pathetic, inaccurate account of Plain folk running around with handsaws, cutting down trees, dragging them out of the forest to their homes to be decorated with quilted homemade ornaments. She almost laughed at the ridiculous spiel. And something about the way it all tumbled out, something about the way the impostor's lies seemed to roll off her tongue, told Katherine the whole thing had been very well rehearsed.

"Excuse me, but that's not the way it is," Katherine blurted out. "Amish people don't celebrate Christmas with decorated trees."

Rosie and Garrett gawked at her, but she couldn't stop. Had to explain things the way they truly were.

"How would you know?" the false Katie accused.

"I know" was all Katherine said, turning her full gaze on the woman in her Amish costume.

Mr. Bennett stood up suddenly. "Who is this woman?" he demanded.

Katherine cringed. Himmel! She'd spoken out of turn, should never have given in to her emotions. Now she was done for.

Rosie made an attempt to gloss things over. "This is our

ner maid, sir. Fulton signed her on two days ago." "Does the woman have a name?" he bellowed. She spoke up quickly. "Katherine, sir."

His face flushed bright red. "Yes, well, may I see you outside?" He gave a nod toward the hallway.

"Excuse me," she said, especially for Laura's and Rosie's sake. But she kept her eyes on the floor when it came to Katie Lapp, sitting so smug in all her glory. Pub.

"So . . . it's Katherine, is it?" He purposely lowered his

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voice, hoping for a chilling effect.

"At your service, Mr. Bennett." She curtsied.

"What is the requirement for servants' communication at the table?" he drilled her, captivated by her stubborn yet refreshing naivet4.

" 'Speak only when spoken to in regards to table or food needs,' " Katherine recited.

"Very well. You broke the rules of the house, and what?--during your first days of employment? Not a good beginning."

Would she break down? Cry for him? he wondered.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll try harder next time" came the meek little voice. Much like a child would address her parent.

He had to suppress a laugh, lest he be heard in the dining room. Initiating their movement down the hall, he led her farther away from the gathering. "We'll certainly see about that, won't we?"

"No, sir ... I mean, yes, sir," the young woman stammered.

She couldn't be much older than his New York model. Still, he looked her over, up and down, surprised that she was still casting an innocent gaze back at him when his eyes fell on her face once more.

This woman.., what was it about her? So very different from the brazen, even seductive Alyson Cairns he'd brought here to deceive his dying wife.

"I shouldn't have said anything about the Amish, sir."

It would seem she was begging ... pleading with him not to reprimand her further. Remarkable!

He added, "You will be placed on a probation of sorts." "Probation?"

It was clear the woman had no clue of the word's mean-

ing, and he chuckled. "Where've you been all your life?" "Hickory Hollow, sir."

"I see." He wouldn't let her unsophisticated demeanor

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rub him the wrong way. Yet what was it--that look about

her?

"Hickory Hollow's an Amish community, sir," she continued.

"I know about the Amish ways because I grew up in

the Old Order."

He felt his eyes narrow into judgmental slits. "What did

you say your name was?"

"Katherine, sir.., from Hickory Hollow, Pennsylvania.

I called you up on the phone not too long ago. Don't you remember?"

And he'd thought she was merely a misinformed yokel!

How could he have miscalculated so?

"Pack your bags this instant," he hissed, glancing over his

shoulder.

"I'm your wife's true daughter" came the amazing reply.

"You mustn't force me to leave, Mr. Dylan D. Bennett. I've

come such a long way!"

"What's your proof?."

"I have her hair." Katherine ripped off her maid's cap,

auburn curls once again tumbling about her face, then

turned her profile toward him. "And her chin. See?"

"You have nothing, you conniving little tramp!" He restrained

her when she tried to push past him. I'll have you arrested," he threatened. "You'll never set foot in this house again!"

Struggling, he clamped his hand over her delicate mouth

and forced her to the stairs.

The commotion in the hallway disturbed Laura. She kept looking to Rosie for some explanation. "Dylan seemed terribly upset just now."

But the maid could only shrug her shoulders. "Something's got Mr. Bennett riled is all I know."

Even Justin had abandoned his brush to peer out the doorway. Such a bellowing. And for what?

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Laura supposed it had to be something out of the ordinary to ruffle Dylan's feathers so. Possibly the new maid's outrageous comment. How did she know about Amish celebrations?

With the stress and the worrisome questions, came another attack. This time the pain shot through her face, accompanied by tremors in her throat. When she tried to speak, to cry out, only the most guttural sounds emerged.

Natalie was summoned, and before she could be excused, Laura found herself being whisked out of the dining

room.

Christmas Day... oh, her heart went out to her daughter left sitting there alone at the table.

She prayed silently that the Lord might allow something beneficial to come of the exodus. Perhaps now Justin could focus on Katie, on painting her into the mother-daughter portrait.

It was late afternoon by the time Katherine checked into a roadside motel, having arrived by taxi. She stopped crying long enough to pay the lobby clerk for two day's rent. What she would do after that, she didn't know. Acquiring a job should be ever so easy, though, for a former Amishwoman who could cook, keep house, care for children ....

But landing a job was the last thing on her mind.

She dried her tears and set about the chore of unpacking her bag, then put her guitar away last of all. Sitting at the desk in the small, musty room, she clenched her fists against the thought of having been thrown out of the estate . . . threatened, too, by that vicious man, Laura's husband! She thought too, of her brief stay at the Bennett mansion, regretting having no time or opportunity to say her goodbyes