Secret, The (8 page)

Adah placed a full glass of water on the small table next to Jakob’s chair, smiling at him even though he did not look up from reading the Good Book. She reached for her tatting, glad to rest here in their cozy front room after supper. The days were lengthening quickly now, and in two months they’d enjoy the longest day of the year. But late June was not the only thing she looked forward to in this fine season of newness. Tomorrow was Gracie’s birthday.

She raised herself up a bit to glance out the window, noting Lettie out on the porch.
Des gut . . .

“Gracie’s friend Becky was over this afternoon, askin’ for her,” she said softly, eyes still on the window.

“What’d she want?” Jakob seemed preoccupied with his reading.

“They had themselves a phone call from a young woman in Virginia, Becky said. Lo and behold if she ain’t comin’ clear up here to stay for the whole summer.”

“That’s what happens when ya open up your house to strangers,” said Jakob, looking up at her briefly before returning to the Bible.

“It does seem as if they have folk in all the time . . . some from even farther away.” The Riehls had started doing this sort of thing a few years ago to bring in extra income. “ ’Specially during the summer months, they’re perty much full.”

“But someone’s staying all summer long?”

“That’s what I heard,” said Adah.

“When’s this here woman s’posed to arrive?”

“Sometime next week.” Adah picked up her tatting hook, intent on finishing the pink edging on the pretty hankie for Grace. “The young woman’s named for a flower, Becky said.”

“Iris, maybe?” Jakob tilted his head down and looked at her over the top of his bifocals. “Black-eyed Susan?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Jakob . . . it’s Heather.” She couldn’t help but laugh and wondered when he’d be saying she ought to hush now so he could read to her, like he always did in the evening.

“That
is
a nice name.” He had his finger in his German Bible now and was eyeing her but good. “Ready to listen awhile, love?”

How well she knew him. Smiling, she nodded as he opened to the page he’d marked with his finger and began to read. Adah continued tatting as fast as she could, enjoying the sound of Jakob’s dear voice and the way he shaped the words of the Lord.

Grace eagerly turned in her time card and headed for the door to meet fellow Eli’s employee Ruthie Weaver, a sweet Mennonite newlywed who’d offered to give her a ride home. She was conscious of the warm evening sun on her back as she hurried toward the waiting car.

Ruthie sat there behind the wheel, her window all the way down. “It was the nicest day so far this spring,” she said, smiling. “And to think we spent it mostly indoors.”

Grace could hear the redwing blackbirds congregating near the mill creek across the way. The air was so fresh, if not fragrant, and it held the promise of summer.

Ruthie offered Grace some raw nuts from a small plastic container as she got in the front seat. “If you prefer salty snacks, you might not care much for these.” Ruthie shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

“They’re fine with or without salt. Denki.” Grace took three. “My mother, though, loves her salt.”

“Oh goodness, and so does my husband.” Ruthie giggled, her face aglow. “He’s downright dangerous with a salt shaker.”

“I wonder if he craves iodine.” Grace had read this sometimes explained people’s hankering for salt.

“Wouldn’t be surprised.” Ruthie turned on the car radio and a clear soprano voice came through the speakers. “Oh, I’ve heard this woman before . . . wish I knew her name. Some folk say she has a special anointing.”

Grace listened intently, soaking in the soul-stirring melody and the meaningful lyrics. “I see what you mean. ’Tis wonderful
gut
.”

Settling back, she enjoyed the lush landscape as they traveled past newly plowed fields and the wide millstream. Willow trees gracefully hovered near its banks, and cows dotted the pastureland in all directions. Such a short ride home by car, but she was glad not to have to walk today. Though she wouldn’t dare complain, her feet hurt.

“You worked extra late, didn’t you?” Ruthie said, reaching for more nuts.

“So I can take off a little early tomorrow . . . my birthday.”

“Well . . . happy almost birthday!” Ruthie smiled. “And let me guess . . .”

Laughing, Grace waved her hand. “No, I didn’t tell ya for any special attention.”

Ruthie looked her way again. “Well, I’d say you’re not a day over nineteen . . . if I was to try and guess.”

“That’s close enough.”

“So, will there be a family get-together?”

“Just a few of us for supper, is all.” Mamma most likely had invited Becky again, as well as the Spangler sisters from up the road.
Will Jessica and Brittany bring a plant this year?

“Hope you have a real nice time.”

Grace was relieved to see the house coming into view. Birthday or not, she was rather uncomfortable talking about herself.

“Here we are. Need a ride tomorrow?”

“Only if you’ll let me help with gas.” She pulled out several bills from her wallet.

“Thanks, but really, you’re right on my way home, Grace.”

“Won’t ya please let me this time?”

“Put your money away.” Ruthie pushed her long auburn hair back over her shoulder. “See you bright and early.”

Grace opened the door, thanked her again, and said, “So long, then.”

As she turned, she saw her mother standing on the front porch, near the mailbox mounted to the railing. Grace hoped for a smile or a wave, but Mamma appeared to be immobile, like she was glued to the porch.

“Hullo, Mamma!”

Slowly her mother turned. “Gracie? Aren’t you home awful late?”

“I worked overtime to make up for tomorrow . . . remem- ber?” She headed up the steps to the porch and opened the front door. “Come . . . let’s go inside.”

“No . . . no, you go on ahead.”

Grace closed the door and touched her arm. “You all right?”

“I’ll just sit here awhile.” She smiled weakly and went to sit on the old wooden porch swing. Grace saw her chin quiver. “There are leftovers. . . .”

Grace went to sit beside her. “What’s wrong?”

Mamma placed the mail in her lap and shook her head. “There’s nothin’ you can do. Nothin’ at all.”

“Well, no—not if you won’t talk to me.” She felt the sting of guilt for having spoken so bluntly. She’d never done so before to anyone, let alone to a parent.

“Go now and warm up your supper.”

“But, Mamma . . .”

“I’m fine.” Her mother added, “I just need some time alone.”

Torn between obedience and concern, Grace rose and turned to look down at Mamma, sitting there so pitifully on the swing, completely still. She recalled how they’d swung there together, back and forth, free from all cares, so many summers ago, when Grace was little. Mamma looked as forlorn now as the day her sister had died.

Grace hadn’t realized it, but she was holding her breath. Her mother seemed to look right past her, alert to something far beyond the porch. Grace felt compelled to turn and look, as well, but she saw only the first iris spears in the side garden near the springhouse and, farther away, Dat’s flock of sheep. The new lambs followed the ewes ever so close.

Turning back to her mother, she noticed tears spilling down her face. “Aw, Mamma, won’t ya say what’s makin’ you cry so?”

For a second, her mouth opened slightly, and Grace thought her mother might respond. But all she said was “You go on ahead now, Gracie.”

“All right, then. I’ll leave ya be.” Despairing, she opened the screen door and slipped inside.

chapter
seven

L
ettie watched her daughter go, her heart breaking. She pressed her bare feet against the wooden slats of the porch, painted white every year by dear Mandy, who had plenty to do since Grace had begun working at Eli’s. The swing squeaked its familiar sound, bringing a sense of solitude to her mind, pushing her thoughts back to happier days.

We were happy . . . weren’t we?

She’d sat on this swing—in this very spot—to rock tiny Gracie when she was brand-new. Oh, that first summer following her birth was a jumble of smiles and tears . . . and precious moments holding her daughter near, letting tiny Grace nurse at will. So happy she was to have another cuddly babe in arms. Adam, already a towheaded toddler of eighteen months, often crawled up and planted himself next to them, his sweaty little head against her arm, his skin nearly sticking to it at times, so close he was. The three of them swinging on the porch, waiting for a breeze.

Sometimes the neighbors would come bearing sweet, ripe watermelon. Thoughtful Marian Riehl had heard that Lettie was suffering from the baby blues, no doubt. Marian and her husband, Andy, would cut generous slices of the cold fruit and perch themselves on the porch steps or the railing and eat clear down to the rind. Sometimes Judah and Andy would joke to see who could spit the seeds the farthest.

She smiled, remembering the fun they’d shared together, surrounded by laughter and stories. Marian’s little Becky hadn’t even been born then.

Becky
, she thought now.
Not Rebekah, as anyone would have
supposed.
Marian had come calling to ask her opinion on the name when the wee babe was just three days old. It seemed Marian and her husband were at odds on a name, and Marian wanted Lettie’s say-so, too, which at the time had seemed downright comical to her. Less comical, though, was Andy Riehl, who all too often looked for opportunities to dig in his heels, much to Marian’s dismay. Lettie found little to like about the man.
Theirs is a thorny marriage
, she thought.

Shrugging the memory aside, she heard Grace’s voice, mingled with those of her parents. And with a push of her big toe against the porch, she made the swing move faster and wished the crickets were out in full force this evening. Their refrain was sure to drown out any inside talk among Mamm, Dat, and Grace. Soon, very soon, the insects’ chorus would return . . . come summer.

Lettie breathed in the cool evening air. How she needed solitude, craving it even more with Grace’s coming milestone birthday.

Where have all the years flown?

Oh, but she knew. They’d vanished into the seasons, year after year . . . going the way of all good and lovely things.

Like love . . .

She could not even remember the last time she and Judah had given affection—not even a peck on the cheek. It wasn’t that they’d meant to come to this place in their marriage; she guessed they’d simply fallen out of each other’s hearts.

She covered her face with her hands, knowing what would happen if she was bold enough—and insensitive, too—if she were to reveal her heart to Grace. But no, her daughter couldn’t begin to understand. And Judah? Doubtless her husband would simply view her revelation as yet another reason to retreat deeper into his own skin.

Judah’s own world . . .

So, even though she’d given it great consideration since the barn raising last month, there was no question in her mind that she would be on precarious footing with everyone if her well-guarded secret was unveiled.

No, she must not take a risk like that.

Her husband, Jakob, wasn’t but ten minutes into the reading when there stood Gracie in the doorway to the hall, coming slowly toward them.

“Just a minute, Jakob.” Adah leaned forward in her chair, slipping her tatting behind her. “Gracie? You hungry, dear?”

“Mamma says there are leftovers. . . .”

Pity’s sakes, the girl looked like she might cry.

“Aw, why don’t you just have some of ours?” Adah reached for the nearby pillow and stuffed it behind her to better conceal the birthday hankie. She rose and motioned for Grace to follow her to the kitchen. “Your
Dawdi
was just reading Scripture, but maybe he’ll come join us, so you can hear, too.” She said this louder than usual, hoping Jakob might take the hint.

When he did, Grace brightened and pulled out a chair. She sat down and leaned into her hands as Jakob came along and placed his big leather Bible on the table. “Haven’t seen much of yous lately,” Grace said, looking up at him.

“You’re such a busy girl . . . all that workin’ over at Eli’s.” Jakob sat down, giving her a sidewise smile. “What’d you bring me this time?”

“Oh, go on with ya,” Adah said. “She doesn’t have to bring free samples every day.”

Grace was now smiling to beat the band, which pleased Adah. “I doubt you’d have wanted what they were samplin’ today, Dawdi.”

He looked at her, mischievous as all get out. “I guess I’ll bite. . . . What was it?”

“Spicy beef jerky, the hottest you’ve ever tasted.”

Jakob’s head pushed back with laughter. “Well, you just never know till ya try something, ain’t?”

Grace shook her head. “I spared you, Dawdi. I can guarantee you’d be havin’ yourself a terrible sour stomach ’bout now.”

“Then I guess I oughta be thankin’ you, jah?” He reached for Grace’s hand and squeezed it quickly, then let go, still beaming.

Adah reheated the tuna macaroni casserole and warmed up the remaining buttered peas in a smaller saucepan. From where she stood at the gas range, she could no longer see Lettie outside on the swing, but she would have heard her if she’d already come inside.