Upon A Winter's Night (6 page)

“Not to show it to them or the Starks?”

“The case has been closed with an accidental death ruling, but it does throw light on what the deceased might have thought she was doing or where she was going. But she has no connection to you, right?” he said, frowning, with a shake of his head.

“No. Not that I know about now. She can’t possibly be my real mother—I mean birth mother.”

“I’ll keep it in my evidence file and only mention it to Connor if something else comes up. I think they’re eager to get her buried proper and go on with their lives.”

“
Danki,
Sheriff. I—”

“But that’s only because I talked to one of her caregivers from the Starks’ home and got the deceased’s medical records from the place she was being treated in Cincinnati, a top-of-the-line Alzheimer’s care facility. She was mentally bad off, Lydia, just like Connor said. Victoria Keller was delusional, claiming wild things, and tried to wander off there. That note probably means zilch, so don’t get your hopes up—or down.”

Ray-Lynn had been real quiet, which seemed pretty unusual, but she piped up, “So there’s no harm in letting Lydia talk to the local caregivers?”

“I hear you, honey,” he told his wife without looking at her.

“Ya,”
Lydia put in quickly. “Just a private talk. I’ll tell no one what they say—except you or Ray-Lynn, if you want, Sheriff. My mother is still fragile over my brother’s drowning years ago. I didn’t want to upset her or my father, because they’re touchy about my looking into my birth parents.”

“I can see that when they always told you your parents were dead. ‘
Your mother is still alive, and I...’
” he quoted what Lydia had told him about the note. “Tell you what now. You get me the note to examine and put on file. As spacey as Victoria Keller was, I repeat, it probably means nothing. Meanwhile, you have my permission to talk to the two women who were watching Victoria, though one of the caretakers just moved out of the area. ’Cause with Victoria’s medical history, far as I’m concerned, this case is closed. But you let me know what you find out. Connor Stark’s not one to be crossed, and I had to come down hard on him not to press charges of negligence against the two women. As it is, he refused to give them their last month’s paychecks.”

Ray-Lynn gave a loud snort. “Our rich/cheap, kind/cruel new mayor,” she muttered.

“Now, Ray-Lynn,” the sheriff scolded, but his voice was gentle. “So here—” he reached for a pen and paper on the corner of the desk “—are the two women’s names and the one’s address I can recall offhand because the other one lives up near Cleveland. They’re both members of other Amish churches—not yours. But you keep things low-key with them, okay?”

“Low-key,
ya,
”
 
Lydia promised, gripping her hands in her lap so hard her fingers went numb.

But how could something so momentous in her life be “low” anything? As for a key, since she wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, this just might be the key to answering questions about her past—and her future.

6

E
ven though Lydia stayed later than usual at the furniture store that same day, she lit out in her buggy just before
Daad
and Gid closed up the place. She hurried home and unhitched her horse, Flower. Relieved
Mamm
was still taking her nap, Lydia grabbed the precious note from under her bed, snatched a container to protect it and walked down to the road to wait for Ray-Lynn to pick her up.

Their cover story was that Lydia was going with her to Josh’s to help her place an order for manger animals for the Homestead Community Church Christmas tableau. Actually, Lydia was to give her the note so it could be delivered to the sheriff. She also planned to feed the camels while Ray-Lynn and Josh sealed the deal. Like most Amish, Josh never worked with contracts but believed in a handshake and trust, even though he did take careful notes about what animals would be delivered where and when by him and his
Englische
driver, Hank.

“Here it is,” Lydia told Ray-Lynn as she climbed into her van. “I sealed the note in a Tupperware sandwich box to keep it safe.”

“Good. Just slide it under your seat, and I’ll be sure my man gets it. Speaking of which, you and Josh are pretty good friends, right?”

“Well, we’ve known each other for years,” Lydia said, fumbling for words, realizing she was talking in almost as slow a drawl as Ray-Lynn used. Why didn’t she just spit it out? She cared about him more than he did her. At least the drive to Josh’s was about one minute long, so she didn’t have time to explain—and explain what, she wasn’t even sure.

“Oh, look!” Ray-Lynn cried, pointing. “Wonder who that is. A long-lost friend of Josh’s, for sure.”

Lydia’s gaze followed her friend’s finger. Not by the barn but over on his front porch, Josh was hugging a woman with long auburn hair. And she was sure hugging him back. She wore a short denim skirt, boots and red jacket and, despite the cold wind, looked pretty warm—hot, like worldly folks said. Lydia couldn’t see her face but the rest of her looked pretty good.

Then she realized who it was. Sandra Myerson was here.

“I think that’s an old friend of his from Columbus,” she told Ray-Lynn, trying not to gawk. And here she’d blown up the importance of her and Josh’s hug in the barn last Saturday night. It hadn’t been like that long, hard hug with Sandra at all. It had meant so much to her but to him...

“Quite a flashy car, too,” Ray-Lynn said as she pulled up by the barn and stopped in one of the two parking spots next to the hitching post for buggies.

Lydia darted another glance at Josh. The hug was over, and she’d hardly noticed the low, small red car parked in his driveway. Oh, now he was taking Sandra—if that’s who it was—into his house.

“Well, if he’s preoccupied, I can’t wait around,” Ray-Lynn said, hitting her fist on the steering wheel. “Listen, Lydia, hugs and kissy face are common in the world, so don’t let all that get to you.”

“Get to me? I’m glad she’s here as she knows how to trace family trees, and that’s what I hope to do.”

“Oh, you know her. Ding-dang, you’ve got to forgive me for jumping to conclusions. Jack says it’s my weakness, but I know it’s only one of them. By the way, Josh did wave to acknowledge he saw us, or maybe he recognized my van. Can I drop you back at home or are you staying?”

“I came to take care of the camels,” she told Ray-Lynn with a forced smile. “I’ll just go in the barn and maybe meet her later, as I’ve only heard about her so far.”

“Will you tell Josh for me that the Community Church would like to rent a manger scene? One camel, one donkey and a couple of sheep for Wednesday, December 12, in the evening, like six to nine? We intend to really kick off the Christmas season for the area.”

“Sure, I’ll tell him. That early and the middle of the week, it will probably be fine. I’ll bring you a list of the prices next time I see you. Ray-Lynn,
danki
and thanks, both!”

As Lydia started to get out of the car, Ray-Lynn grabbed her arm. “If you need to talk to someone who cares, you come see me.”

“I will,” she promised. As she got out of the van, she glimpsed the pale green plastic sandwich box with the note in it sticking out from under the seat. She hated to give the note up but she was getting much in return. The sheriff, maybe thanks to Ray-Lynn, wasn’t angry with her. He had given her the names of Anna Gingerich, who lived about twenty miles away, and Sarah Miller, who lived up near Cleveland. So there was a place to start, a trail to follow, people to question. Now, if only Sandra Myerson could help her out without trying to get Josh back—because, of course, she must have been in love with him.

With a wave at Ray-Lynn, Lydia hurried into and through the barn, greeting animals by name, petting her favorites among the donkeys who pushed against their bars to get their ears scratched and a dried apple to eat from the bin. “Melly, Balty, all of you are expected to be on your best behavior today,” she told the six camels as they swung their curved, shaggy necks over the railings to greet her with fluttery, fat-lipped air kisses.

“Hugs and kissy face!” she told her avid furry listeners. “What do we care about all that in the big, bad world, right?”

Since she had left the donkeys with only one apple apiece, they brayed in protest, and the sheep murmured their
baa-baas.

Lydia wrote Ray-Lynn’s requests on a piece of paper on Josh’s barn desk—long oak boards on barrels—then turned toward the camels just as the back door opened and Josh stood there. Hatless, his hair blew free in the wind. Vital and strong, with the crisp blue, winter sky behind him highlighting the color of his eyes, he seemed to fill and warm the large door frame.

“Lydia, glad you’re here. As you may have seen, Sandra’s here from Columbus, wants to stay a day or two—that is, at the Plain and Fancy B and B in town. She’d rather not come out to the animal barn, but can you come in the house? She’s pretty excited to meet you and exchange some genealogical help for info on Amish Christmas, if you’re still willing.”

Oh,
ya,
Lydia thought, she was still willing, despite the fact Josh’s face looked much more flushed than the winter wind usually made it.

* * *

Up close, Sandra Myerson was very pretty with auburn, arched eyebrows and full lips that smiled easily to display snow-white teeth. Her expressions came quickly and were full of emotion and life. She shook Lydia’s hand, then pressed it between both of hers. Her brown eyes were alert and sharp and warmed when she looked at Josh. Lydia tried not to take that all in and instead managed glances at Josh’s living room.

She hadn’t been in his house since he’d bought his brothers out. She figured the place must tell a lot about him. A spacious, two-story white farmhouse with high ceilings, it was well-lighted from the tall windows. Maybe a bit sparse on furniture but what he had was well arranged. On the table next to the comfy-looking dark blue sofa was a stack of zoo and animal magazines, and the calendar on the wall had a picture of zebra in the snow for the month of November.

“Josh had his friend Hank fill me in on the phone about you, Lydia, but I’d love to hear your take on everything,” Sandra said. “I’d be happy to help you try to trace your biological roots and take in trade anything you can tell me about an Amish Christmas here in Eden County. Not that Josh and I didn’t have some go-arounds about that, but women see things a lot differently from men.”

Sandra gave Josh a playful punch in his midriff, which Lydia figured was a lot more intimate than a punch to his arm. Oh, well. She had to work with and get along with this woman. And if these two still meant something to each other, Lydia had to accept that, at least for now.

“I don’t even have names to start tracing,” she admitted as Josh sat in his chair and the two women took the sofa, facing each other. “But there has to be a newspaper record of my parents’ deaths, because car-buggy accidents are always written up. I do know the week they died because I was ten days old. It was the second week of February 1992.”

“You mean you weren’t even told your parents’ names?”

“It was— I just sensed it was difficult to ask. As if I would be disloyal if I did. Actually, I did ask once and
Mamm
said that she and
Daad
were my real parents now, so I got that message loud and clear. I didn’t want to upset her more and wanted
Daad
to know I loved and trusted him—which I do,” she added hastily.

Sandra raised an eyebrow at Josh. “Well, more of a mystery, then, though I’ve seen other situations where key information had been lost or even lied about. I can check the database archive from the
Cleveland Plain Dealer
online if it goes back that far, but is there a more local paper?”

Josh put in, “Homestead has a weekly paper but it’s only about nine years old. We’d need to go into Wooster in the next county to check on articles from the
Daily Record.
”

We’d
need to go? Lydia thought. Was Josh going to help Sandra? But this was his busiest time for the Christmas animals. Or did he automatically think of himself and Sandra as a team?

“Is there any way you could go to Wooster with me now?” Sandra asked Lydia. “I saw a mileage sign a ways back that I think said thirtysomething. I can call ahead to check on the paper’s closing time.”

Lydia’s head was spinning. Go in that little red car right now when her parents would think she was working over here?

“I came to work with Josh’s animals so—”

“I can take care of them,” he said. “I know how much this means to you and how much you’ve meant to the animals and me.”

Lydia’s gaze met and locked with his for a moment, but it seemed a long time. Sandra cleared her throat. “Let’s do it,” Lydia heard herself say. “I can’t thank both of you enough for your help.”

“Besides, we need to get to know each other better, since we’re going to work together,” Sandra said, bobbing up from the sofa. “Who knows? Maybe their archives are online.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Josh said.

She got a flat, little thing out of her purse, flipped it open and started stroking the small screen. “I’ll just check the closing time of the
Wooster
Daily Record
offices or else get their number and call them. And thirty-some miles means you can talk about your genealogy project en route and about an Amish Christmas coming back.”

“You’ll be surprised how complicated my problem is compared to how simple our Christmas is—both of them,” Lydia told her as she and Josh stood, too. She wished she’d dressed better than her barn clothes but that wouldn’t stop her from going to Wooster. She was too eager to get started on finding out who she really was—and who this Sandra really was, especially what she meant to Josh.

* * *

By the time they pulled up in front of the
Daily Record
newspaper office in Wooster, the county seat for the next county, Lydia had talked a lot but learned a lot. One thing, though she hated to admit it, was that she liked Sandra Myerson. She seemed honest and straightforward, as Josh had said, a go-getter who knew what she wanted from life, and Lydia couldn’t help but admire that. Sadly, the woman did not like animals except cats, but surely there were worse flaws in human beings. At least, Lydia thought, that probably meant Sandra and Josh were not meant for each other, except for the fact Sandra had carried on about what a great, genuine guy he was.

Dusk was descending as they hurried into the
Daily Record
office and told the curly haired woman at the reception counter what they hoped to find. She didn’t blink an eye that the two of them looked so different, but Wayne County had plenty of Amish, too.

“Okay,” the receptionist said when she’d heard their inquiry, “a double death, car hits buggy. That or a court case means a clip should have been kept, though only events from the last ten years are stored in our computer system. From the time period you want, our clips are not in a database but should be in an envelope filed in the morgue.”

“The morgue?” Lydia said.

“Just our slang. We don’t have a librarian anymore, but some of our veteran editors know how to find stuff in the morgue—it’s kind of like a library. Let me see if someone can help you, but several have gone home already.”

They waited about five minutes until a plump, sixty-something woman named Monica Jordan came out to help them. They wrote out their information for her and sat down to wait again.

“I’ve done research in the States and Europe,” Sandra told her in a quiet voice. “It’s sometimes just like this—fill out forms and wait, but then—
voilà!
—some hidden gem falls right in your lap.

“So what’s this about two Amish Christmases?” she asked. “Josh only told me about one, December 25, a family day, keep-it-simple, sometimes homemade gifts, a traditional meal. It sounds like the rest of us except for the lack of razzle-dazzle and ooh-la-la, no over-the-top decorations and Santa stuff we moderns enjoy.”

“For sure no Santa stuff.”

“But how about decorated trees? I passed a Christmas tree farm near Josh’s.”

“That’s the Stark tree farm on the outskirts of Homestead, but the Amish don’t buy those. The moderns do, though, and the farm ships truckloads of trees to local cities to be sold on rented lots. That’s Ohio Senator Bess Stark’s family business, though she’s almost never here, and her son oversees it.”

“Boy, that’s a good one. Snarky Stark’s family sells Christmas trees.”

Lydia didn’t know what
snarky
meant but she didn’t want to ask. Sandra used all kinds of strange words like
voilà.

“So, go on about Christmas,” Sandra prompted.

“The truth is that many Amish want to ignore the December 25 celebration, since the world has commercialized it so much. We struggle to ignore outside temptation and keep the day focused on our faith. But as for the second so-called Amish Christmas, we just call it Old Christmas because it went with the historical religious calendar from centuries ago. We close our stores on that day, too. It’s January 6, called Epiphany, the traditional day of the arrival of the wise men from the East—probably the first non-Jews to see the baby Jesus, and that shows anyone can approach Him.”