Heritage of Lancaster County 02 The Confession (12 page)

Finding the sachets--a beautiful link between herself

and her natural mother--helped ease her apprehensions somewhat. Had she stumbled onto something, something better than ever? If, of course, the mistress of the house was her true mamma ....

Ach, she had scarcely anything to go on, nothing tangi-

ble, really. Even the sweet-smelling little pillows weren't proof enough; lots of folk used such pretty things to freshen up their closets and drawers.

Pressing the miniature bag to her face, she wondered if

she had in all actuality come to the right place. She continued to wonder, stewing over past events as she lay there, eyes boring a hole in the brass chandelier centered in the ceiling.

One thing she knew to be true. Only one. Laura May- field-Bennett had once come to Hickory Hollow looking for a young woman named Katherine. Yet how many Amish communities were there in Pennsylvania? Hundreds? Maybe more?

How had Laura known where to look in Lancaster

County? She hadn't, of course.

Jumping to conclusions, Katherine allowed a bother-

some thought to make a home in her head. What/fI'm the impostor? What if everything up till this moment has been nothing more than a dream ?

Urgency swept her inside out, and she longed to find out

who the mistress of the house was, really. She must know,

114

too, once and for all, if she or the woman named Katie Lapp belonged to Laura Bennett.

Nothing ... nothing must keep her from finding the truth.

115

Katherine hoped her guitar playing wouldn't disturb anyone. She'd waited till the first hint of light had pierced the darkness, had gone into the private bath, drawn the tub water, and closed the door. Sitting on a petite boudoir chair beside the fanciest dressing table she'd ever seen, she strummed softly.

The tune she created was not joyful, not the kind of melody she'd imagined herself humming in these early-morning moments spent within the walls of the Bennett estate. The morning of Christmas Eve!

A melancholy refrain poured forth, capturing the emotions of this her first daybreak in the beautiful house. She entertained the same old nagging doubts, asking herself the question: Could there be someone else named Katie Lapp--another Amish girl about her age? But even as she pondered it, she hoped.., and as Cousin Lydia would say, she prayed it wasn't true.

Laura had gone to Pennsylvania, had given a letter to the Wise Woman, Ella Mae Zook, who, in turn, had passed it along to Katherine's Amish mamma. Rebecca had been the one to tell her of Laura's terminal illness, that Mrs. Bennett

116

was eager--before she died--to see her flesh-and-blood daughter face-to-face.

The notion occurred to Katherine that she must inquire as to Laura's health. Why hadn't she thought of it before? But, of course, what with all the commotion last night--being mistaken almost immediately for an applicant sent from an employment agency--there hadn't been a minute to ask.

Besides, Fulton and Rosie had seemed in a dither at the time, tending to their own personal duties and trying to determine, no doubt, why a woman carrying a guitar and a suitcase had appeared on their doorstep without going through the proper channels.

Should she just assume Laura was her natural mother? Should she also suppose that another young woman was posing as Katherine while calling herself Katie?

And why would someone go to the bother of dressing Plain, playing a role that belonged to another? Who would want to be Katie, an Amishwoman, when Katherine May-field was the name sewn into Laura's infant daughter's dress?

Baffled, she put away the guitar, eager to bathe and dress for the day. Eager for some straight answers.

Laura dozed, satisfied that the daughter she had so longed to see again was alive. Not only alive but right here under her roof, consenting to remain through Christmas.

In the haze between sleep and wakefulness, the slightest twinge of disappointment pricked her. She recognized the struggle between her mind and her heart. The dream--what it would be like to finally meet her dear girl, imagining how she would look, what they would say to each other--all of it--had been altered in a single day.

117 She felt somewhat let down but assumed this experience was normal. After all, hadn't they enjoyed a delightful supper hour together? And the surprise dessert--something the newly hired help had created for the occasion. How delicious it had been!

The taste of the Amish dish still lingered in her memory as did the look of pleasure on Katie's face when the pie was served. Laura would never forget this evening with her beloved daughter, who was so quaintly dressed in her adorable Amish attire.

Yet it was the oddest thing--the young woman's Pennsylvania Dutch accent. If Laura was not mistaken, it sounded far different from the dialect of the Plain folk she'd met in Lancaster last month.

Something else troubled her, something she wished she could grasp more fully--the fact that Katie and she were far from bonding, even after having spent hours together. They simply had not clicked upon first meeting, as she had always believed they would.

She forced away the vague, elusive inclination, praying that her instincts were off. Perhaps the heavy medication was at fault. Yes. That was probably all there was to it.

Laura lay quite still, listening. Was it her imagination, or was someone playing a guitar in the predawn hours? She strained to hear more clearly, thankful that her ears were functioning better than her eyes.

Faintly, she was able to make out the sounds of a human voice--a woman's voice. Was it her daughter? Was Katie singing?

But, no, the sound was coming from the other wing of the house. The room over the kitchen. The domestic quarters upstairs ....

The haunting music surrounded her subconscious memory with distant recollections of a mother's soprano voice, clear and true.

118

How she missed the shrewd yet compassionate lady. And how wise she had been. Charlotte Mayfield had repeatedly warned her about Dylan Bennett, cautioned her while they were dating. "Your father, bless his soul, will turn over in his grave if you end up with that man," she'd said.

But young Laura, caught up in the romance, had argued repeatedly for his sweet, endearing ways. "Dylan is so handsome . . . so wonderful. He won't hurt me, Mother, not the way Katherine's father did. Dylan's a gentleman."

So she'd waited until her mother died, marrying Dylan Bennett against the woman's wishes. As for Laura's father, he'd adored her; she'd always known that. Had her parents lived to see this day, they would have thrown a lavish feast. Would have invited as many guests as the mansion could accommodate.

Instead, Laura felt isolated, alone with her joy. She experienced a pulsing void, wishing her parents were here to dote on Katie, to open arms wide to their only grandchild.

Dylan's hovering annoyed her. Why had he allowed her so little time alone with Katie? Perhaps that was the very reason she and her precious child had not been able to connect, neither emotionally nor spiritually.

At any other time, she wouldn't have reacted so negatively to Dylan's constant attention, but time was running out! Too, they were no longer the dearest of friends . . or lovers. Hadn't been in years. Not in any sense of the word. Yet Dylan was pretending they were a couple. A loving husband and wife, welcoming home a cherished child.

She considered the strange situation. Why would he behave in such a way? Was it because he had been instrumen-

119

tal in locating Katie? Because he felt responsible for the reunion going well?

Feeling convicted, she prayed for a sweeter spirit. What if her husband was softening toward her? Attempting to make amends for his past misdeeds in these last days of her life?

Love can change a person, she'd told her mother one night when Charlotte had begun criticizing her fiance. But the very things that had concerned her mother during the courtship had grown into insurmountable marital problems. Dylan had not changed for the better. On the contrary, he had become even more controlling.

Now, as she lay in her gleaming brass bed, the trappings of wealth and loveliness about her, she remembered Dylan's countenance as he observed her with Katie yesterday. Was it genuine compassion she had seen in his eyes? Or something else?

Anger welled up. This was the same man who'd tricked her into thinking she was barren, purposely denying her the children she'd always longed for. Repeatedly swindled her out of money, misrepresenting her separate accounts, forging her name on legal documents.

In spite of her husband's wicked ways, she had never considered turning him in to the authorities, or divorcing him, although the latter had crossed her mind on occasion.

"Love him to Jesus," Rosie had once said in a fervent prayer. Yes, she'd offered herself up for Dylan, had travailed in prayer on behalf of his salvation. Yet how difficult it was to extend unconditional love and acceptance to a man who'd so wronged her. To a man whose very life seemed driven by domination and deceit.

Had she not known the love of the heavenly Father, the grace of His Son, she wondered how she might've responded to Dylan all these years.

120

In sickness and in health ....

She had made her marriage vow to only one man. She intended to keep it.

Thankfully, the legal problems had been solved by her recent visit to Mr. Cranston's office. After much prayer, she felt justified in changing her will. Not out of revenge or hatred--it was simply expedient that she do so. This way she could die peacefully, knowing the estate would remain in the family.

Breathing deeply, she allowed the guitar music to soothe

her as it came trickling down through ceiling vents, carrying

her back to dreamland.

Finished with her bath, Katherine brushed her hair, gazing into the large vanity mirror on the dressing table. She must wind her hair back up into a bun; it was required. Ach, the irony of having to look so plain again, having to wrap a netting around her beautiful curls while living in this fancy place. She touched her hair lovingly before proceeding with the bun and maid's cap.

She smiled cautiously for the gilded mirror, wondering what might be taking place back in Hickory Hollow today, what with Christmas Eve just hours away.

Were Dat, Eli, and Benjamin out gathering up fresh branches and pinecones for the house? Would Mam be decorating the wide windowsills in the front room with the greenery? And the work frolics ... were the women congregating first at one house then another for hours of cookie baking?

She sighed, knowing this kind of contemplation could only cause her pain. Still, she couldn't resist the memory of Mary Stoltzfus. How was she getting along?

Katherine worried that her friend might think it rude

121

for her to have ignored the thoughtful Christmas greeting. But she knew better. Of all people, Mary most assuredly would understand. After all, there was a powerful-good reason for not sending a letter back to Hickory Hollow. The fear of causing trouble for Mary, on account of the shunning.

Forcing her thoughts back to the usual cheery atmosphere of a Lapp family Christmas, Katherine recalled playful, happy chatter, the brisk ice-skating parties on the pond out behind the house, and the Grischkindlin exchange with Samuel and Rebecca Lapp. Other folks brought gifts, too.

Her mind whirled and in that split second, a crush of emotions sent her spirits spiraling downward. But not for long. Wasn't she right where she wanted to be? Wasn't she glad to be finding out who Katherine Mayfield really was? Who she might've become had she grown up here in this elegant world?

No, nothing in Hickory Hollow could call her back now, nothing at all. The People had rejected and betrayed her. Her own family, the only family she'd known.

"Today I'm going to meet my real mamma," she whispered to the oval mirror, hoping it would be so.

Turning sideways, she surveyed her fancy apron and maid's cap. Done up under the netting, her beautiful new hairdo didn't show at all. Not a bit. Sighing, she hurried to make her bed and straighten up the room.

Just as she was preparing to head downstairs, the schedule for the domestic staff sailed under her door as Rosie had promised. Katherine gave the page a once-over and determined that the entire staff was obviously shorthanded over the next ten days, during the holidays. What luck! Or was it that heaven was truly smiling on her?

When it came time to serve either tea or the main meals of the day, she would offer her assistance in hopes

122

of discovering the absolute truth about Laura Bennett's health.

Breakfast was over at the Samuel Lapp home. Rebecca quietly cleared the dishes, rinsed, washed, and dried them, and listened in on her husband's conversation with Eli and B enj amin.

"What Jake Stoltzfus does is his business," Samuel told his sons.

"But what about gut land? Soon there ain't gonna be enough to go around here in Hickory Hollow," Benjamin pointed out.

Eli snorted. "What are you worried for? You'll never have to be thinkin' about such things as that."

Rebecca turned sharply to peer at her son's face. Eli, jealous? What an ugly thing it was, she fretted to herself. She was about to reprimand her twenty-six-year-old son but hadn't the chance, for Samuel spoke up first.

"Both you boys'll be getting married, 15robably, come next November. You'll be needing a place to farm with your wives and later to raise your families."

Eli and Ben were silent. Rebecca wasn't surprised, for it was their custom to keep all engagements secret till the second Sunday after fall communion, when the bishop announced those couples who planned to be married. The special event was called the "publishing" of couples. For her sons, the time was a good nine months off. Still, she knew why it was that Samuel was pushing them for answers.

"I'd hate to think of you headin' offto Indiana just 'cause Jake's thinkin' of going," Samuel continued.

Why were they talking like this? she wondered. Benjamin needn't worry about not h/ving enough land to farm.