Heritage of Lancaster County 03 The Reckoning (21 page)

"What are you thinking?" he asked, slipping his arm around her shoulders.

"This place.., it's the most unbelievable sight I've ever seen."

"There are many wondrous and scenic spots in the world. This happens to be one of my favorites, close to home." He turned to face her. "It's only the beginning of what I want to show you, my darling."

Her heart beat wildly as he caressed her face with his hands, leaning down for their first kiss. His lips were sweet and lingered gently. Smiling into her eyes, he said, "Someday we'll bring our children to see the majesty of these falls." Our children...

She had to suppress a giggle. Justin was taking much for granted. He hadn't even asked her to marry him yet!

They strolled along the walkway, Justin's arm curved protectively around her waist. Nothing more was said about their future for the rest of the excursion. No "popping of the question," as Rosie had so humorously called it.

Katherine fell into bed late that night after enjoying another candlelight supper with fine food and music, wondering what Justin had said or done to cause her such dissatisfaction. Thinking back through the entire day, she knew she ought to have been on "cloud nine," as Rosie or Leoma might say. But something was troubling her, and she couldn't put her finger on it.

Rachel Esler called first thing the next morning, and for a moment, Katherine wasn't sure who was on the line. "Who did you say you were?"

"Ach, I'm sorry" came the Amish reply. "Guess I must've

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forgotten to tell ya that we met over at the mall at the card shop. You gave your phone number to my sister and me."

Katherine now knew exactly who was calling. "Of course I remember you, Rachel. You had me stumped there for a minute, because you sounded like one of my rela- tives-back in Pennsylvania."

"Jah, I see. Well," the girl continued, "I wanted to let ya know that my sisters--all three of them--and our mother would like to help you finish off your Country Songbird

quilt for the hospice bazaar."

"Really? You do?"

"For sure and for certain" came the familiar reply. "We could come for two or three hours at a time but only on weekdays."

"I understand," she said. This was too good to be true! "So when do ya plan your next frolic?" Rachel inquired. Frolic? Katherine hadn't heard the word in ages. What a lovely sound--so charming, she nearly forgot to answer the caller's question. "Uh . .. when? This Wednesday evening, we'll meet again."

"Gut, then." Rachel went on to ask if there would be enough people in all to have twelve quilters.

"Let's see..." Katherine thought for a minute. "There's seven of us here and five of you. Perfect!"

"We'll see ya after supper on Wednesday then." "Thank you, Rachel. Good-bye."

She spun around, twisting the phone cord about her. "This is wonderful-gut," she announced so loudly that Rosie and Leoma leaned their heads into the French doors.

"Sorry," she said, untangling the cord while the housemaids exchanged comical glances.

"Must be something about Justin Wirth," she heard Rosie say as the women turned to leave.

Katherine had herself a good chuckle--somewhat subdued, however--over that. Wouldn't the ladies be surprised

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to meet their new quilting comrades?

: : :I

The studio tour was enlightening, and Justin was quite

the humble host as he showed her around the next weekend. Most remarkable of all was his oil painting of Mayfield Manor--Katherine's estate.

"Oh, it's amazing," she cooed, looking closely to inspect

the detail, then stepping back to survey the grandeur. "You

really captured the feel of the place."

He smiled, standing off to himself in the corner, where

books on castles and bridges stood on a display shelf, facing

out.

"I mean it, Justin. You're branching out, aren't you?" His arms were folded tightly against his chest, his expression serious and subdued. "I've always been most interested in portraying people, but more lately--and I'm not exactly sure why, unless it has something to do with the splendor of your mansion--I've become fascinated by architecture and nature."

She went to him, resting both hands on his folded arms.

"So that's why you took me to Niagara Falls. You're going

to paint it, too. Am I right?"

He unwrapped his arms and pulled her close. "What do

you think? Is it a good idea?" he asked, his lips pleasantly

close to her face.

The smell of his breath, his musk cologne, all of it made

her wish he'd say how much he loved her . . . ask her the important question. Instead, he waited for her response, gazing down into her eyes.

"I, uh, should think the water would be hard to paint,

especially because it's moving so quickly," she managed to

say.

Gently, he brushed the tip of her nose with his lips, gave

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her a loving hug, and led her by the hand to his easel. There, he began pointing out various brush strokes that would lend themselves well to depicting the motion of the Niagara River. "So you see, it is possible to capture such energy and movement with paint," he said quite adamantly.

"Yes, I think I see that." It was obvious the man was fond of his work, and rightly so, for he was as talented as he was admirable. And at that moment, Katherine was altogether sure he was the dearest man in all the world.

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The pipe organ enthralled Katherine with a piece she'd never heard before--The Palms--though she wondered if Justin's presence on this day, Palm Sunday, might not have enhanced the musical experience for her.

Churchgoers thronged the chapel, joyfully looking ahead to Easter. Katherine heeded the minister's message, hoping to discuss some of the Scriptures with Justin over dinner.

The topic that seemed to be most interesting to him, however, was another trip. "To Toronto, Canada," he mentioned as they dined. "What do you say, Katherine? Will you come with me?"

He told her of his plan to sketch one of the cathedrals there. "We could have a lovely time, just the two of us."

She felt somewhat awkward about it, unsure of the travel plans. "I... wouldn't want to miss out on my scheduled days at the hospice or the quilting sessions," she told him.

"No, no, I don't want you to forego any of your plans." He brushed aside her unspoken concerns. "We could leave on a Friday evening, after your quilting group and return by Sunday night."

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She didn't need to remind him that they weren't married; therefore, she would not feel comfortable sharing a hotel room with him. Miraculously, she didn't have to bring up the subject. He must've seen the puzzlement on her face--she didn't really know how he knew--but he winked at her and assured her that they'd acquire separate rooms.

"Could we wait to go until after Easter?" she asked, longing to attend church on that special day.

Justin's response was not as animated as she had hoped it might be, but he agreed to postpone the trip. So it was set. He made all the necessary arrangements in regard to accommodations; Katherine merely had to alert her domestic staff.

Rosie raised her eyebrows when Katherine filled her in on the details. The maid's eyebrows stayed up when Katherine explained that she'd toured Justin's art studio as well.

"Hm-m, it's starting to sound more serious between the two of you," Rosie said with a curious smile.

"I think he must love me, or he wouldn't be spending so much time taking me to dinners and nice places."

Rosie's eyes penetrated hers. "But do you love him?" "I care for Justin very much, if that's wlat you mean."

"Does he share your interest in church?" The question was as pointed a comment as Rosie had ever made.

Katherine didn't quite know how to answer, other than to be completely honest. "I suppose rot."

Rosie said no more. Katherine, however, felt she wanted to defend Justin's lack of interest in religion. After all, America was the land of the free, wasn't it? Yet something kept her from speaking up, something desperate and hidden from view.

The afternoon sky was featureless, but the road that stretched ahead for miles took Dan past two covered

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bridges, a single one-room schoolhouse, and numerous farmhouses. He recognized the private lanes leading into his relatives' barnyards--knew them like the back of his hand. Yet coming here, uninvited, on an off-Sunday, posed definite drawbacks for a shunned member of the Amish church.

Starting out first thing after church, he had decided it was high time he laid eyes on his namesake, four-month-old Daniel Lapp. Impulsively, he'd set out for Lancaster County, not bothering to stop for lunch. Annie would be surprised, he kne; but she wouldn't turn him away, not even if Elam were home. He could count on her warming up some leftovers for him, too, though she'd not let him eat at the same table. Without question.

Her face brightened pink when she spied him at the door, then paled considerably when he bent down to kiss her cheek. "I've waited too long to see my young nephew," he said, apologizing for not letting her know ahead of time. "Hope it's not an inconvenience."

"Puh! Come on in, Dan." She quickly closed the door behind him. "Elam might not be too happy about havin' you here much--not too long, anyways--but I'm glad you came!"

He understood. "I'll stay only a short time," he promised, following her into the kitchen.

She set to work immediately, pulling food out of the pantry. "You must be starved, drivin' all that way."

"I'll eat whatever you give me." He glanced around at the familiar trappings of the kitchen: the corner cupboard that housed the big German Bible and other books, the typical calendar hanging on the back of the cellar door, the trestle table in the middle of the floor, the woodstove, the hickory rocker, and the dark green blinds wound up tight and high at the windows. One Amish kitchen was like any other, comforting and familiar.

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Annie called to Elam in the front room. "Daniel's here for a visit."

Thinking it was nice that she hadn't said a "quick visit," Dan felt more comfortable, though he knew they wouldn't feel too kindly about him wearing out his welcome--being under the Meinding and all.

"Would you like for me to get the folding table out of the cellar?" he offered.

Annie shook her head. "You sit yourself right down at the big table, Dan. Nobody's gonna be sittin' there with ya anyhow."

She looked so young to be married and a mother already, he thought. And if he wasn't mistaken, she wore the blush of motherhood on her cheeks and in her eyes--he'd seen it enough times to know that she was probably expecting her second baby come early autumn.

"Well, Daniel, what brings you here?" Elam asked, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the front room. His high forehead and blond hair immediately reminded Dan of Rebecca Lapp, though the lack of a smile

hid the dimples so prominent on his mother's face.

"I came to meet your son.., my nephew."

"Let's see if the baby's awake." Elam left the kitchen and headed for the stairs.

Annie smiled sweetly. "I'm sure Daniel's up." She glanced at the day clock high over the sink. "It's been an hour or more since I put him down for a nap. Such a gut baby..."

Soon Elam came downstairs carrying the blanketed bun-

dle.

"Ach, hold him up," Annie said, going over and leaning on her husband's arm. "He's right big already. Jah?"

They removed the blanket, and Elam held little Daniel up in the air, the baby's feet kicking and his arms flapping about, till Annie rescued the poor thing. She reached for

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him and cradled him in her arms, coming around to the opposite side of the table where Dan sat in front of a plate of chunky potato salad, homemade bread spread with honey- butter and jam, and cold slices of chicken. "Here's the little fella," she said, bringing him over to Dan.

Surprised at first, he took the squirming mass of humanity and looked into the bright blue eyes. "Hello there, young man. I'm your uncle Dan Fisher."

The baby didn't fuss as Dan expected, just stared up at him and cooed. The weight of the tiny body in his arms, the little round eyes looking back at him, and the joyful gur- glings--all of it stirred something in him, and he wondered what it would be like to father and raise a fine son or two or three someday.

The shape of young Daniel's mouth and chin line reminded Dan of himself. Though he hadn't ever seen himself in pictures as a youngster, for there had never been photos taken--not even snapshots--not of any of the People all those years. Still there was something terribly familiar about the baby's facial features. He felt as if he were looking into a mirror, one that reflected the past. "All the little fella needs is a beard and we could pass for twins."

Annie agreed. "I thought the same thing when he was first born. There's a strong family likeness."

"Suppose I ought to shave my beard. That would work just as well." He was laughing now, which seemed to amuse the baby, who reached up and pulled on his beard.

"Mary's about to marry herself the bishop," Annie said, pulling up one of the rocking chairs.

Elam stood close to the table, eyeing Dan--his eyes watching the baby like a hawk. "Won't be a public weddin', this one," he spoke up. "Last I heard, they were ridin' over to SummerHill come Saturday afternoon."

"The day before Easter--ain't that nice?" Annie said. "Speakin' of Zooks, Ella Mae had a stroke here a while

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back," Elam spoke up, shifting his weight from one foot to

the other. "I only say that because you two were close." Dan caught his breath. "Will she be all right?"

"She's a fighter, Ella Mae is," Annie said. "I 'spect she'll get over her paralysis in due time. She'd wanna see ya if she knew you were in town."

Dan shook his head. "I'll have to come back and see her some other time."

"Well, then, I won't say nothin' about you being' here." The baby started to fuss, and Annie came quickly to take him from Dan. Holding the baby in one arm, she pulled the rocker across the floor closer to the woodstove, sat down, and began to nurse him.