All’s because we’re gettin’ a new Mam
, he thought to himself. He was mighty glad the Lord God hadn’t made
him
a girl. Such fussy things as aprons and capes! And always that clean white color till a girl turned thirteen. Give him an old pair of “broadfall” trousers—broke in good—and he was happy.
When Preacher Yoder came over to help, Levi simply handed him the list and pointed. He wasn’t one to speak much to people outside his own family. And Katie Lapp would be no different, he decided while the preacher filled his order.
“Shall I bill it to your Pop?” Preacher asked with a smile.
Levi nodded and accepted the sack of sewing supplies, careful to hold it out a ways—not too close. Now if that bag had held a fistful of peppermint sticks like the ones over on the counter, he’d have grabbed it right up next to him. Just so’s he could snitch one or two of the delicious mints out of the sack on his way down the narrow grocery aisle.
He breathed in the soft, minty smell one last time before reaching for the knob on the jingle-jangle door.
From the corner of the store, someone with a raspy voice spoke to him. “Well, hullo there, little Levi.”
He turned to see who was calling him “little.” Because he was no such thing!
“Come on over here,” Ella Mae Zook said, motioning to him as she sat at a square wooden table, having a cup of hot chocolate. “I could use some company.” She smiled and her deep dimples danced for him.
Levi realized with a jolt that not only was the Wise Woman right here in the general store, but Mattie Beiler, his aunt, was with her— over at the sewing counter, picking out dress material. His mamma, before she died, had told him all about his aunt Mattie and how she’d helped bring him into the world. It hadn’t been an easy birth, but he’d finally come, all blue and barely breathing. Mattie had saved his life eight years ago, and to Levi, who believed himself to be near half grown, that was a good long time past.
Ella Mae pulled out a chair for him, and he slid onto it. He couldn’t honestly remember ever being this close to the woman whose daughter had saved his life. People said things about Ella Mae, called her “wise” and other such grand things. But now, looking up into her wrinkled face, Levi couldn’t see anything too awful special about her. Except maybe for the way her kinda goldish eyes—like the barn cat’s—seemed to look straight through somebody—deep into your heart somehow.
To his surprise, she ordered and paid for another cup of cocoa without even asking if he wanted any, then settled back to enjoy her warm drink. “Guess you ain’t all that little now that I see ya up close,” she said, squinting her eyes a bit.
Levi only smiled.
“Ah . . .” She put her hand on her heart. “That smile of yours reminds me of your dear mamma. And ya know something else?”
Levi shook his head.
“I think you got more than just her smile.” The old woman took a sip of cocoa, not explaining herself, which made Levi a bit jumpy, wondering what on earth she was talking about.
Well, he had to know. “What do I got that’s like my mamma?” He leaned forward, his elbows on the old table, his ears wide open.
Ella Mae straightened up, and her wrinkly face broke into a broad smile. “Curiosity . . .
that’s
what. You’re interested in people—think long and hard about ’em, now don’tcha?”
Levi blinked. Did she know, could she tell, that he’d been thinking about someone? Could she tell that he’d been thinking long and hard, so hard that his head felt stiff from the notions a-stirring around in his brain—about that stranger-lady with hair as red as Katie’s?
“I . . . I guess so,” he stammered. “Jah, I’m curious sometimes.”
She nodded slowly, then picked up her cup and saucer, letting the steam rise to fog her spectacles. She was silent for such a long time that Levi began to think Ella Mae had forgotten all about him. He sat back in his chair and stared at the glass jar of unclaimed peppermints on the counter across the wooden floor. His mouth watered just thinking about them.
“It’s mighty gut to be interested,” Ella Mae spoke up out of the blue. “It shows you’re thinkin’ . . . just don’t go and think too hard. Save your brain for schoolwork.”
He thought she might tell him to drink his cocoa right down and run along. But when she didn’t, he figured it was the same as asking him to tell her what was on his mind—that curious question he’d been pondering on. “Where do you think . . . I mean, uh, where do family looks come from—like hair and eyes, ya know?”
Ella Mae slid her cup and saucer away and studied him thoughtfully before she spoke. “Parents have physical traits that get passed down to their children—just like your blond hair came from your mamma and the point of your chin from your Daed.”
He sat up straighter. “And I’m tall like him, jah?”
“That you are.”
Levi glanced around because what he was about to say was for Ella Mae’s ears only. “Can ya keep a secret?” he whispered.
“Do you trust me, Levi Beiler?” she replied, looking him square in the face.
Studying her for a moment, Levi remembered all the things he’d heard about the little old lady sitting across the table. Hickory John and Nancy had both looked her up several times after their mamma died. And Levi wasn’t exactly sure, but he thought even his own Daed, the bishop, had come to see the Wise Woman secretly—when his heart was near breaking in two.
Once, Nancy had said right out loud at supper that Ella Mae Zook seemed to listen like she believed every last word you told her. Never handed out a bunch of
should
s and
shouldn’t
s neither. Just let a body settle for himself what he ought to do.
So, Levi decided, if they—and most everyone else he knew in Hickory Hollow—had told Ella Mae their secrets at one time or another, why shouldn’t he tell her just one of his own?
He drank his cocoa half down, then set the cup on the saucer with a clink. “I was just wonderin’,” he said softly. “Who do ya think Katie Lapp gets her red hair from?”
Ella Mae didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the question. “Oh, probably from a relative somewheres down the line.”
Levi scratched his head, puzzled. “Wait now,
you’re
related to Katie and she doesn’t look nothin’ like
you
.”
Ella Mae smiled. “Every now and again, God gives us a wonderful-gut surprise.”
“Like red hair?” He sighed, thinking about the stranger-lady.
“Like shiny black cars stretched out longer’n three fence posts?”
Ella Mae jerked her head back a bit, her eyes wide with surprise. “Where on earth didja ever see a car that long?”
Levi felt his mouth go dry. Did he dare mention the English stranger and the flashy automobile parked and waiting on the road?“I . . . uh, I saw it yesterday after school . . . right in front of our house.”
The whole secret was out now. What would the Wise Woman say? Levi stared at her, trying to read what was behind those know-everything eyes. Would she believe him—the way Nancy said she always did? Or would she brush him off like Daed had last night?
Her words came slowly at first. “About that car . . . was a man in a black uniform driving it?”
“Jah.”
“And was there a woman all decked out in a white fur coat?”
Levi accidentally let go of his sack. Spools of thread flew all over the place, and he went running, chasing them across the floor. He stuffed Nancy’s sewing supplies back into the sack and sat down at the table again, blinking his eyes to beat the band. “A white fur coat, ya said?” He leaned so close he could smell Ella Mae’s chocolaty breath.
“Then you musta seen the Englishers, too.”
She nodded.
“Ya did? You seen ’em?”
Ella Mae frowned and opened her mouth to say something else. But Levi interrupted before she could get a word out.
“Didja get a good look at ’em?”
“I saw ’em. Both of ’em.”
Levi kept his voice low, but he was about to bust wide open! “Didn’t that lady have the reddest hair you ever seen?” He didn’t wait for Ella Mae’s reply but asked another question. “Where’d
you
see ’em?”
“Out front, parked in front of our house—like they was lost for sure.”
“So then, they was still lost after sundown?” The thought excited him. “Do you think they’re still ’round here somewheres?”
Ella Mae’s worry lines deepened. Then, in the very next minute, a funny little smile played across her lips.
Levi couldn’t help but grin. She’d seen right through him. “I just wanna have another look at that long black machine,” he admitted before she could point it out, “that’s all.”
“Levi Beiler,” she scolded softly. “I do believe ya best be runnin’ along to school now.”
He scooted his chair back. The Wise Woman of Hickory Hollow had witnessed the exact same thing he had yesterday. She’d just told him so. Now Daed would
have
to believe him—for sure and for certain.
————
“Ach, I left my basket on the counter,” Mattie told her mother outside the General Store as they were leaving close to thirty minutes later, and she handed her the reins.
“Now you hurry back, ya hear?” Ella Mae called from her warm nest of woolen lap robes in the front seat of the buggy.
Moments later, a shiny limousine pulled into the parking lot and came to a stop in front of Preacher Yoder’s store.
Ella Mae gave the English couple a quick, astonished look; so as not to stare, she looked away. But it wasn’t any time a’tall before she heard the sound of feet crunching in the snow and someone approaching the buggy.
“Please, excuse me.”
Ella Mae looked up into the face of the woman she’d seen last night—the one with the burnt red hair.
“I am very sorry to intrude,” the woman said, “but I’ve been trying to locate someone. Perhaps you can help?”
Ella Mae sniffed. She knew that scent. Lavender—sweet and delicate. “Who would you be looking for?” she asked, taking note of the woman’s fur coat and leather gloves.
“I wonder . . . would you happen to know of an Amish woman named Rebecca living in this area?” the soft voice came again.
Ella Mae stifled a chuckle. “At least ten or more.”
The woman sighed. “I’m sorry I can’t give you the last name.” Her shoulders sagged, and it was then that Ella Mae noticed something much heavier than disappointment weighing her down. The woman seemed downright desperate.
Tugging at her fur coat, the red-haired woman shivered. “Would there be a young woman in your community—about twenty-two years old—whose mother’s name is Rebecca?”
Without much thought, Ella Mae calculated several daughters of her friends in the church district. “Sorry, but I can’t be much help to ya if I don’t know the last name.”
“This Rebecca . . . I believe she would be in her mid to late forties. And her husband was somewhat older.”
“Could be any number of folk, really,” Ella Mae replied, wondering why the Englisher referred to the couple in the past tense.
The lady straightened a bit and continued to stand there, now leaning on the carriage. She took a deep breath before speaking again. “You’ve been very kind. I do thank you.” She smiled a tiny, weak smile that faded like dew in the morning sun. Still her deep brown eyes twinkled with hope, matching the diamond choker at her throat. But it was the determined set of her jaw that caught Ella Mae off guard, and for the blink of an eyelash, the spiffed-up woman reminded her of someone.
Before she turned to leave, the lady reached deep into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a sealed envelope. “This may seem a bit presumptuous, but it would mean so very much—more than you could know—if you, or someone else could pass this letter on to some of the Rebeccas in your community—the ones with a twenty-two-year-old daughter. Oh yes, I forgot to tell you . . . the daughter’s birthday is June fifth.”
June fifth? There was only
one
woman who fit
that
description.
All of a sudden, the Wise Woman knew which Rebecca the fancy lady wanted, and why her face had seemed so startlingly familiar. As sure as she was Ella Mae Zook, she knew.
The lady handed her the sealed envelope. “With all my heart, I am forever grateful.” And she was gone.
Mattie returned in time to see the tail end of the black limo pulling out of the parking area. “Some mighty fancy Englishers around today, jah?”
Ella Mae did not speak.
Mattie touched her arm. “Are you all right, Mamma?”
She nodded, then—“Are you going over to help Katie and Rebecca Lapp spruce up the house this mornin’?”
“Thought I would. How ’bout you? The company’ll do ya good, Mamma.”
“I’m all wore out, child,” Ella Mae said, her thin voice sounding rough and hoarse again. “I best be gettin’ off my feet and sit a spell.”
Mattie trotted the horse up the lane toward their gray, wood-frame farmhouse. “I’ll help you into the house, then, if you’re sure you’re not coming.”
Ella Mae stepped down out of the buggy, holding on to her daughter to steady her footing. With her free hand buried in the folds of her long woolen shawl, she clutched the envelope. The envelope with a fine linen finish and the name
Laura Mayfield-Bennett
centered on the back.
————
Mary Stoltzfus and her mother, Rachel, made their way down the narrow road toward the Lapps’ house, a large basket of sticky buns fresh from the oven nestled between them on the buggy seat. Even by carriage, time passed quickly this morning—their conversation punctuated with speculation about the Englishers who’d been seen by both Levi Beiler and Ella Mae Zook only an hour earlier.
Before they knew it, they were turning into the Lapps’ tree-lined lane and pulled up in the side yard, coming to a stop beside a row of identical, boxlike gray buggies. Mary helped her mother down, and they walked across the packed snow toward the farmhouse, waving at Eli Lapp, who’d come over from the chicken house to unhitch their horse and lead him to the barn for hay and water.
A four-sided birdhouse, accommodating as many as twenty purple martins in springtime, cast its tall shadow over the snowy walkway as the two women hurried up the back steps to the kitchen door.