Upon A Winter's Night (26 page)

Then, as soon as possible, she’d ask Bess her big question. But Bess had so easily talked her way out of her lie about not speaking to Sandra. So would Bess even tell the truth, especially if it meant admitting to any kind of deceit or scandal? She was obviously really clever at bending questions her way. As kind as Bess had been, she’d protect herself from anything or maybe anyone who stood in the way of her ambitions, Lydia thought. Did she really know Bess Stark at all?

* * *

Lydia jerked awake. Had she heard a bell? She’d been in and out of light sleep, keeping her ear tuned to any sounds. She looked at the beside clock. Almost 4:00 a.m.

She got up and peered out in the grayish hall. The bathroom door was closed. Had
Mamm
or
Daad
gone in there? She’d wait just inside her bedroom door to see who came out.

She kept silent when
Daad
padded barefooted toward their bedroom. Strangely, she had the urge to stop him, to demand to know if Bess Stark could possibly be her birth mother. But would the next assumption be that
Daad
was her real father? The instinctive love she’d felt for them both over the years pointed to that, didn’t it? Yet, how wrong of them to keep that from her, how cruel. It would be terrible for
Mamm
to know that—or did she? What if she’d been forced to take in her husband’s love child? Maybe she had no idea. Or if she did, was that the cause of the problem between her parents? And Bess...she must not want her past to get in the way of her rise to power. Just give your flesh-and-blood only daughter a half hug now and then and go on your merry way. And Connor—did he know? Did he hate her for that, too?

Back in bed, Lydia tossed and turned. She loved Josh, wanted Josh. Was that how it was for Sol and Bessie?

Love...love...

Lydia sat bolt upright. Someone was in her room, a woman in white. For one half-waking, wild moment, she thought it could be Sandra’s ghost, but she didn’t believe in that.

No, it was
Mamm.

Gooseflesh iced Lydia’s skin as
Mamm
said in a whisper, “I have to find Sammy. I have to keep him safe.”

When Lydia tried to speak at first, she had no voice. She cleared her throat. “
Mamm,
Sammy’s not here, and you have to go back to bed.”

Though her face was in darkness,
Mamm
turned and looked at her. She wore not only her long-sleeved, floor-length, white flannel nightgown but a white prayer
kapp,
which made her look as if a halo hovered over her head. Her feet were bare. Her long hair was down, not even plaited in a big braid but wild around her face and shoulders.

Lydia got out of bed, went to her. If she was looking for Sammy, so long drowned in the pond, was she lost in a dream or nightmare? She turned her head toward Lydia but did not respond to what she’d said. Now she ordered, “Don’t try to stop me. I have to find him fast.”

To Lydia’s amazement,
Mamm
shoved her back onto her bed with such strength that she bounced.
Mamm
rushed from the room, and Lydia heard her bare feet on the stairs.

Lydia scrambled up again. Should she wake her father? No, she didn’t want to alarm him. She could handle this herself, get
Mamm
to bed in the guest room or the sofa and sit with her until she went to sleep.

Barefooted, in her nightgown, Lydia followed her downstairs. How could
Mamm
be so quick when she usually moved much slower?

Downstairs, Lydia’s panic increased. Where had she gone?

She heard the back door open, then close.

Dear Lord, was her mother going outside in that state? And surely not to the pond!

Lydia rushed through the kitchen to the back door. She saw
Mamm
had pulled on a coat and was walking out through the white blankness of the snow, heading in the direction of the pond. The ice must be frozen pretty thick, but who knew if she could break through it? More than once Josh’s father’s cows had gone through in the winter when the Brands used to own the pond.

Lydia jammed her feet in boots, not fastening them. The first coat on the rack was
Daad
’s
.
She yanked it on and ran outside. And here she had promised herself,
Daad
and Josh she’d not be out alone after dark. What if Leo Lowe or the intruder or—

She should have shouted for
Daad,
but she didn’t want him out here in this cold. Not taking time to fasten her boots—she realized too late they were
Daad
’s
 
and too large for her feet—she clomped along at a shuffling run through the snow. Starlight and moonlight helped a bit, but how could she be so far behind? And,
ya,
it sure did look like
Mamm
was heading for the pond.

“Mamm!”
she shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth as she ran. Her voice seemed so small under the vast, dark sky. She fell once, scrambled to her feet again. “Stop,
Mamm!
Wait for me, and I’ll help you find Sammy. It’s Lydia! Wait up!”

As she crossed behind the woodlot, Lydia could see a light was on in Josh’s barn. Was he still sleeping there to keep the animals secure? Could one of them be sick? And would he hear her if she called for him?

“
Mamm! Mamm,
stop!” she cried, trying to ignore the frigid air that bit deep into her lungs. Her nose was going numb. Her head hurt, and her eyes watered, blurring her vision. Some of the snow she was wading through kicked up her bare legs.

Out of breath—did those pills give someone strength as well as mess up their mind?—Lydia passed the back line of Josh’s land and past the gate Victoria Keller had gone through and perhaps hit her head on. What if
Mamm
slipped on the ice and hurt herself? Lydia recalled there had been three pairs of boots in the back hall, so was
Mamm
barefoot? And was this confusion just caused by the pills, or had she finally been broken by her guilt and grief over Sammy’s death?

Lydia peered ahead and saw that
Mamm
had taken something, maybe a rock or tree limb, and was pounding on the ice a few feet from the shore. The pond was deep, almost no shallow edges. At least she’d get to
Mamm
now.

Shrill cries of “Sammy, Sammy, I’m breaking the ice so you can get out!” shredded the night air. “Come back up! I’m here, I’m here!”

To Lydia’s horror, she recalled those last few words were the exact ones
Mamm
had said over and over the day Sammy died, when she wouldn’t leave the pond, not even when the volunteer rescue squad came, not until
Daad
lifted her in his arms and carried her home. And those were the same words she had whispered at Sammy’s funeral when the elders shoveled soil into the grave, and it thudded upon the lid of the small coffin.

Lydia had almost reached her when
Mamm
stood and lunged out on the ice she’d broken through. Except for that black hole, the coating of snow made it hard to see where the ground ended and the pond began.
Mamm
went into the water, thrashing, screaming. Maybe it had shocked her from her trance.

On the edge of the pond, Lydia got down on her stomach and started to reach for her, but the broken ice cracked farther, opening a bigger, jagged hole. Lydia’s right arm and leg went in before she could claw her way back to the bank. Frigid water instantly soaked her coat and nightgown. Her boot was gone. Her hand and foot went numb.

As she clambered to safety, she saw
Mamm
had used a rock to break the ice. She had to get something long to hold out to her, pull her to solid ground. Maybe a tree branch.

“Sammy! Sammy,”
Mamm
was screaming, but she kept going under.

“Josh! Josh, help me! Help meeeee!” Lydia shouted toward the barn, praying the dim light within meant he was there. But even if he heard her, maybe he couldn’t get here in time, just like when Sammy drowned.

Lydia lay belly down with her hips in the snow and her upper torso stretched across the jagged ice and choppy, frigid water. Again and again she reached in vain for
Mamm,
who kept
 
flailing, gasping, going under.

26

L
ydia heard a deep voice cutting through
Mamm
’s shrieks and her own desperate cries for help. A man’s voice. Was he calling for Lydia or Liddy? Even if it was
Daad,
with him so ill
,
she needed help.

“Lydia? Lydia, you out here?”

Josh, distant, but his voice sounded so good.

If she stood so he could see her, would
Mamm
slip under the ice? “Here,” she screamed. “
Mamm
’s
 
in the pond. Help meeee!”

But there was no reply. It seemed endless days dragged by. She kept grasping for
Mamm,
feeling the ice beneath her breaking. Had she imagined his voice, his love?

Then he was there, panting, throwing himself flat beside her. “Get back. Lydia, get away, too much weight!” He grabbed a handful of her coat and slid her off the ice.

Scrambling to her knees, leaning forward, she gripped her cold hands together and blinked back tears. In one hand, Josh held a horse’s rein that he’d made into a big noose. Sweating but shaking, Lydia watched him try to lasso
Mamm
with the rein, once, twice, again.

The leather loop snagged
Mamm
under one armpit, around the side of her neck and her flailing wrist. He yanked it tighter, but
Mamm
seemed to fight, not help. She no longer cried Sammy’s name but she seemed insane to struggle so.

“I may choke her,” Josh cried, “but I’ve got to get her out.” He stood, moved a few steps back and pulled, dragging the thrashing woman closer.

Lydia reached for
Mamm
’s
 
arm, helped to pull. Finally, she stopped struggling. Together, they dragged her out sopping wet on her belly. Lydia carefully rolled her over, face up, while Josh loosened the strap, then pulled it from her.

Daad
suddenly appeared, wrapped in a quilt, wearing untied shoes on his feet, shuffling through the snow. He fell to his knees beside
Mamm,
wrapped her in the quilt and pulled her to him, lifting her head and shoulders against his thighs.

“Thank God for you, Josh,”
Daad
said, tears streaming down his face. “But—she’s out—not breathing.”

Mamm
’s mouth gaped open. Josh lifted her eyelid; her eyes were rolled back. Lydia sucked in a sob. Josh put his ear to
Mamm
’s lips and shook his head. He pulled her gently away from
Daad,
flat on the ground. Lydia watched in fear as he gave
Mamm
three of his own breaths, mouth-to-mouth. Then, stiff-armed with his hands linked flat on her chest,
Daad
hovering close, Josh began to press, then release his weight on the unmoving woman. Lydia couldn’t recall the name for that procedure but she knew the world’s ways were sometimes a blessing.

“Lydia—I—may—have—you run to Starks’ for a phone—the rescue squad,” Josh said in rhythm to his movements. “But late at night—volunteers—it may take a while—for them—to come.”

Josh began counting.
Daad,
trying to help, echoed his numbers. Suddenly
Mamm
choked, sucked in a breath and opened her eyes. She gasped, spit up water while Lydia and Josh helped her to sit up and
Daad
chaffed her hands.

“I want to—die—too,” she whispered, her voice rasping. “I killed Sammy. Did I kill someone else? I told her—stay away from my Lydia.”

She coughed more and sucked in ragged breaths.
Daad
said, “Don’t talk now, Susan. Shhh!”

But she went on, gasping her words. “Why, you should have heard—the things—she asked—me!”

Even in the dark, Lydia’s and Josh’s wide gazes slammed together. Did she mean Sandra?

Josh looked quickly away, but Lydia’s thoughts terrified her. What if
Mamm
had taken one of those pills during the day? In her
 
strange waking-sleeping state, could she have confronted Sandra in the barn—the loft?
Mamm
had been there to give Josh bread just two days before that. Maybe she’d seen Sandra drive into his place and had come over just to talk, to warn her to keep away, to keep quiet about Lydia’s adoption. And then...? No. No, impossible.

Daad
cradled
Mamm
against him, bending over her as if he could warm her. Josh put his hand on
Daad
’s
 
shoulder, gripped it. “The barn’s the closest place, and I’ve got heated blowers we can train right on you,” he told them. “The heat’s turned down in the house, and the three of you can’t all get in my single bed, anyway. I’ll carry her there and get blankets from the house for everyone. Lydia, help your father. We’re all going to freeze. We can’t stay here. Everyone up. Now.”

He lifted
Mamm,
and they obeyed, a straggling band trudging through the snow. It was only then Lydia realized she had one bare foot, and it had gone numb. Limping, weaving, they went through the gate and Lydia closed it behind them. Slowly they made their way across the animal enclosure toward the open camel gate in the barn. How beautiful it looked to her, that dimly lighted doorway: safety and salvation.
Mamm
ill but alive.

Daad
had been near death’s door, too. Were they being punished for not telling her about her birth parents?

* * *

Lydia’s mother was conscious, clinging to her husband. Josh helped Lydia wrap them in camel blankets. He moved one of the two lanterns closer to them, as if that would provide warmth, and handed Lydia the other, and then he trained both warm blowers on the three of them.

“I’ll be back fast with dry clothes and house blankets. Lydia, rub and wrap your foot. And there’s some hot coffee left in my thermos.”

Josh reopened the back barn door they’d just closed and ran for the house. He knew he had to keep moving. He hadn’t been in the water, but he’d gotten wet from the splashing and carrying Mrs. Brand. Besides, he’d run out with the horse rein but no coat. How had Mrs. Brand gotten in that pond? Had she been trying to kill herself and then decided that she wanted to live? Lydia’s father had needed a heart surgeon, but her mother needed a psychiatrist. At least Lydia had been there to call for help.

He fumbled to unlock the back door. His hands were freezing, shaking, and it was so chilly in here. Maybe he’d turned the heat down too far when he went out with the animals. Had to hurry...Lydia could have broken through the ice, too, drowned the same way her little brother had, the way her mother surely would have if he hadn’t heard their screams and shouts. He could have had two more dead women on his property. He had felt so blessed when Lydia came into his life this second time, but now he almost feared there was a curse on her family.

He tore inside his house and pounded up the stairs. If only he had time to heat water, but he had to get all of them in dry clothes. Maybe he should have brought them here, but they’d barely made it as far as the barn.

In his bedroom, he stripped the quilt and both blankets off his bed, then grabbed his clean clothes, even for the women. Flannel shirts, pairs of pants, socks, slippers and shoes. A change of clothes for himself. He jammed it all into a bundle, using the biggest blanket to cover it.

When they were dry, he should take them home in his buggy, but he hated to leave the animals alone, even for that long, with all that had been going on. If KILLER wanted to hurt him even more, would he attack the animals to accomplish his sick mission?

On his rush back downstairs and through the kitchen, he grabbed a box of crackers and a sack of cookies.

His arms so full he could hardly see where he was going, he engaged the lock from the inside, then stumbled out into the cold.

He went at a lurching run toward the barn. How many times had he wished Lydia and her family would drop by for a visit and now this. He remembered Mrs. Brand’s first words when she regained consciousness. He knew what she meant when she said she’d killed Sammy since the boy had somehow gotten past her and headed to the pond. But what about her dazed question,
Did I kill someone else, too?
She’d seemed to refer to Sandra with all her questions. Had Sandra confronted Lydia’s mother? Here?
Ach,
people said a lot of things when they were in shock.

It might be a good idea to shout for Lydia to open the camel door. But as dark as it was out here, barely starlit with no moon, he could see something was written—painted—on the entrance he’d run through more than once tonight. The same crude, quick writing. This time, the paint was dry. Since he’d left the door open when he’d run back and forth, the words could have been there awhile: U KILLED S.

* * *

When Josh came back in, Lydia thought he looked like he’d seen a ghost. No doubt, the shock of all this was setting in for him, too. She’d rubbed her foot and wrapped it in a towel, then done the same for both of
Mamm
’s feet. Her toes had looked blue. She had gotten some hot coffee down her mother and made
Daad
take a few sips. Josh, at least, didn’t look as if he needed coffee. He looked wide-awake and his face was red, but not the kind of red from the cold. Was he scared or angry?

“Here,” he said, dropping his bundle on his plank desk. He told Lydia, “We’ll all have to wear my clothes and cover up with these blankets until I can buggy you home. Unless you think your mother needs a doctor right now.”

“She needs a doctor, all right, but not now,” Lydia whispered. “A doctor tomorrow, for sure. Best we just all get warm.”

Josh carried
Mamm
into his office, and behind stacked bales of hay, she and
Daad
got on dry clothes and wrapped themselves in blankets. Lydia went to change on the other side of the camel pen behind the kneeling, sleeping animals, who woke and tried to nuzzle her and nip her hair as if to say,
Join us. We have room here in the hay.

Josh had gone around the corner where the old milking wing started. Unfortunately, all the hubbub annoyed the donkeys, who began protesting in their usual brays and haws.

Once Lydia got her pants cuffs and shirtsleeves rolled up, holding up the too-big trousers, she hurried back to her parents. “
Daad,
are you two doing all right?” she asked. “Can Josh or I get you something else from his house? He brought crackers and cookies.”

“We’re all right, Liddy,”
Daad
’s
 
wan voice floated to her. “All covered up, warmth coming back.”

As she moved away from her parents, Josh came striding toward her in his dry clothes. He still looked upset. “Sorry we got the animals stirred up, so—”

He stopped in midthought as his eyes traveled over her, dressed in his clothing. She knew her hair was a mess, and she had cinched in his too-loose trousers with some twine and was still shivering from what had happened as much as from the cold. She wore so many socks on her tingling foot that she hobbled when she walked. She was shaken to her core, and she saw now Josh was trembling, too.

They moved farther away from her parents into a barely lit corner of the barn. Josh pulled her into a warm embrace, pressed tight, her soft curves to his hard angles. Her arms around his waist clamped her to him; his arms around her back felt like steel—trembling steel.

“You should lie down, too,” she murmured, her lips against his warm throat. “You’d better not buggy us home right now. You strained your muscles. You’re shaking.”

His only answer was to kiss her hard, his demanding mouth moving over hers. His skin felt warmer than hers. His beard stubble raspy, his tongue commanding. He broke the kiss as quickly as it began and whispered in her ear.

“Lydia, the KILLER painter has been at it again. I didn’t see it on the outside of the camel door until I came in with the clothes. It’s dry, may have been there for a while—well, at least since after I came in here to check on a sick sheep a few hours ago. When I ran in and out to get to you, I was in such a rush, and then the door was open when we came back in.”

His deep voice, his emotion and urgency vibrated through her as he held her close. Strange that even with all the terror they’d been through tonight, she felt warmed by his body, by her desire and love for him.

But she leaned slightly back to see his face. “Is the message the same as before?”

“It just says U KILLED S. The word
you
is not spelled out, like someone was used to sending messages on Twitter or something. Or, was just in a hurry.”

“Twitter? A worldly phone? Could KILLER have come into the barn when you were out, too? Should we look around again? I’ve been trying to give
Mamm
and
Daad
privacy, but could he be behind a stack of hay bales, too...or up in the loft?”

“I’m going to get a pitchfork for protection, take a lantern and find out,” he said, setting her back. “This has to stop now, but you wait here.”

“You’ll have to tell the sheriff you’re still being harassed,” she said, clinging to his hand as he started away. “Maybe he can do a stick up.”

He almost smiled. “A stakeout? Like stay outside in the cold all night, walking back and forth between your place and mine? And I’ll bet your father didn’t lock the door when he went out. Considering what happened to your place—your bed—you’d better ask him. I swear, I’m going to do a stakeout myself. But
ya,
I’ll have to get the sheriff out here again, as much as his continued questions gall me.”

Josh got the extra lantern and a very old-looking pitchfork and started to make a circuit of the barn. Lydia tiptoed near her parents and whispered, “
Daad,
did you lock our house door?”

He sat up beyond the bales, rose and tiptoed away from her sleeping mother. “I didn’t, but don’t worry, Liddy. No one will disturb a place, especially this time of night. Not in Amish country.”

She remembered that she and
Mamm
had not told him about the break-in at their home. Nor did he know about the first message scrawled under the loft. Or that the person who might be Sandra’s killer—Victoria’s, too, for all they knew—was in the area tonight, throwing red paint around instead of honey this time. So should she blame him too much for not telling her important things? People had their secrets and their reasons, maybe not to hurt but to protect those they loved.