The Missing (17 page)

Yonnie startled her, standing as he was a few feet away from the finches’ bird feeder. “Hullo, Grace. Need some help?” he asked.

She didn’t really, although the seed bag was a bit heavy. “You can carry the seed if ya want.”

He quickly took it from her. “We’ve had some unusual birds comin’ up to our feeders at home. Looked nearly like seabirds to me.”

“Seabirds?” She smiled, catching his eye.

“Jah.” He smiled back. “Have you ever been to the ocean?”

“No,” she said, surprised.

“I have,” he said, his blue eyes alight. “Just once.”

Suddenly, she felt incredibly curious. “When were you there?”

“My Dat surprised Mamm last summer. She’d always wanted to go swimming.” He grinned. “But that’s another story.”

“Oh?”

He looked sheepish. “Well, she doesn’t own a swimming suit. . . .”

Grace couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Ya mean she wore her dress and apron in swimming?”

“I didn’t say that, no.” He paused. “My father figured out something modest . . . that’s all I know.”

Grace felt as if she’d somehow crossed a line. It was strange talking so openly with him.

Yonnie held the seed bag while Grace dipped her cup inside. He leaned closer as she sprinkled the birdseed into the feeder. “I went looking for seashells with my sister Mary Liz and three of our younger brothers,” he said. “We all went searching up and down the beach for sand dollars, and I stumbled onto a marble-sized Cape May diamond without even tryin’.”

“A real diamond?”

“Not at all,” he was quick to say. “But it does look something like crystal.”

She’d seen crystal goblets at the Spanglers’ house, in the dining room hutch.

“You can almost see through it,” Yonnie added. “It’s mighty perty.”

“Could you show it to me sometime?”

His eyes twinkled. “Why, sure.”

Grace could scarcely believe this. Yonnie had gone to the ocean with his family and had nature’s souvenirs to prove it!

They finished filling all the feeders, then walked to the potting shed where Dat kept the sweet syrup for Mamma’s hummingbird feeders. Together, they filled those, too.

All the while Grace kept glancing toward Becky’s house, hoping she wouldn’t decide to drop by and stumble onto this too-pleasant scene. No telling what she’d presume was going on here in Grace’s backyard.

Lettie was hungry and wishing she might help Susan in the kitchen. The gracious and cheerful hostess had thus far refused Lettie’s offers to cook and bake. “No, no, I want to treat
you
,” Susan said again as they sat down to an early supper, her face beaming. “You have no idea the joy such
gut
company brings me.”

After the prayer, Lettie passed her the steaming stroganoff casserole. “Well, it’s a blessing for me, too.” She hadn’t breathed a word to Susan yet, but now that she had Dr. Josh’s name, she’d soon be on her way. But first she must write a letter to Cousin Hallie, asking if she might be able to visit her. After all, her cousin might wonder why she hadn’t heard from Lettie in more than a month, and she didn’t want to show up on her doorstep, unannounced, just because she was kin. So by Tuesday or Wednesday—assuming Hallie wrote back immediately—Lettie would know if it suited for her to come for a day or so.
Just till
I talk to Dr. Josh,
she thought.

For now, though, Lettie could simply relax and enjoy Susan’s delicious meal. If things fell into place, she might just find her daughter—if Minnie had remembered correctly and her child was indeed a girl. Of course, it might take some doing to convince a grown woman to travel to Kidron to meet her biological father.
Samuel . . .

She must not get into a tizzy, contemplating such things. Taking one day at a time had brought her this far. “I’ll clean up the kitchen for you—how’s that?” Lettie offered, dishing up more chowchow. “Since you’re doin’ all the hard work.”

“Actually, cookin’s fun.” Susan smiled as she leaned forward on the table. “I don’t even mind the redding up. My husband used to tease me that I worked too hard . . . liked to have things all shiny and clean. Nearly before he was finished eatin’, I’d be pulling his plate out from under his nose.”

Lettie chuckled. She had done the same thing to Judah.

“Oh, how I miss Vernon.” Susan continued talking, sharing about her life with her late husband. “He was the deacon here in our district for years . . . he never could understand why the Lord God chose him.”

“ ’Tis a sobering thing, the lot.”

Susan agreed. “He took his divine appointment seriously. Really took it to heart—just as he did our marriage.”

“Sounds like you were a wonderful-
gut
match, then.” Lettie didn’t want to press, yet each time Susan spoke of Vernon, it was impossible not to notice the light in her eyes. She had clearly loved her now-deceased husband. “Was he your first beau?”

“Honestly, there were several fellas I was fond of . . . and one I hoped to marry.” Susan glanced out the window. “Vernon and I worked hard to make our love grow, even flourish. But it took a period of years.”

Lettie was surprised to hear this. “Did your first beau marry someone else?”

“He certainly did—and such a long story ’tis, and rather pointless now.” Susan rose to get the lemon pound cake she’d baked. She sighed, undoubtedly reminiscing over the years as she placed the cake on the table. “I’ll tell you this, Lettie: I’m glad I didn’t wait to let Vernon know how much I cared for him. If he’d passed away, not knowin’ . . . ” She glanced at the empty chair at the head of the table, a faraway look in her eyes. “Might seem odd to honor him like this, but I’ll let nary a soul sit in that seat right there.”

Lettie recalled her relationship with Judah. Some years had been better than others, but they had never enjoyed the kind of marriage Susan and Vernon had. She felt humbled . . . even a little awed. “Denki for sharing with me.”

“Happy to.” Susan rose to cut a generous slice of cake and placed it on Lettie’s plate. “I hope you found Minnie all right.”

“Jah . . . it was wonderful talkin’ with her.”

“So you’re in the family way, then?”

Lettie’s fork dropped to her plate. “Ach, no!”

“I just thought . . . your urgency to find a particular midwife, ya know . . . maybe you’d had good experience with Minnie and wanted her again.”

Good experience . . .
She literally shuddered. The birth of her first baby had been difficult at best. “No, I’m not having a baby.”

Susan took a bite of her cake. “All right, then.”

But it wasn’t all right, because Lettie felt she wasn’t holding up her side of the growing friendship. A friendship that, while most likely short-lived, was becoming a balm to her soul. Susan had been forthright with
her
, but Lettie had clammed up when things got too personal. She just couldn’t imagine airing her dirty laundry.
I’m as proud as I am selfish,
she realized. Ashamed, she determined to help out round here, as much as Susan would allow. Dear woman, she deserved as much.

chapter
sixteen

A
s usual, Martin Puckett was right on time that Saturday after dinner. Grace stood at the end of their driveway and Beechdale Road, waiting. It was time to buy in two weeks’ worth of groceries at Eli’s, as she often did on a Saturday when not working at the store.
As Mamma and I always did.
Using the van to haul the many store-bought items was the best way to handle the bi-monthly chore.

“Hullo,” she said when Martin greeted her.

“Looks like nice weather all weekend,” he said, bobbing his head.

She still couldn’t get it out of her mind that Martin had been the last person she knew who’d seen her mother. Somehow it made her feel tenderhearted toward him. “It’s goin’ to be mostly sunny, Dat says.”

Then, just as Martin reached to slide open the passenger door of the van, Yonnie came running down the driveway, waving his straw hat and calling, “Wait up. I need a ride!”

What on earth?
Grace couldn’t hide her surprise as he hopped into the second-row seat right next to her.
Why not up front with
Martin?

She was taken aback by his bold, if not overly friendly manner. It was fine for him to help Dat with the lambs and her, with the birds . . . but hailing down the same van?

While Martin moseyed around to get into the driver’s seat, Yonnie asked, “Will ya go walkin’ with me tomorrow afternoon, Grace?”

Of all things!

She was befuddled, especially because he’d taken her walking several times last year before doing the same with a number of girls. He had spent more time with Becky than any of them, though.

“I’m busy tomorrow,” she said, thinking about her plans with Heather.

“Another day, maybe?” he asked, his expression hopeful.

If she waited long enough, Martin would open his door and get her off the hook—at least for now.

“Where are the two of you headed?” Martin asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat. He glanced over his shoulder at Yonnie.

“We’re not actually together,” Yonnie said, flashing her another quick smile. “I’m heading home, and I’m not sure where Grace’s goin’.”

Since Yonnie typically remained to help Dat till closer to supper, Grace was even more perplexed by his decision to head home early. Why? To ask her to go walking with him?
How many
girls does he need to walk with, for goodness’ sake?

Martin peered at them in the rearview mirror. “Since Yonnie’s house is on the way, we’ll stop there first. That is, after we pick up Miss Becky. She needs a ride to Eli’s, as well.”

Oh no!
Everything Grace had said to assure her friend about Yonnie would be down the drain now. She was trapped—literally—between the window and Yonnie in the second row. And if Becky laid eyes on them sitting there, with Yonnie in back instead of up front, where most men sat when there was only one young woman in the van, Becky would never believe Grace.

They pulled in the Riehls’ lane and stopped at the back walkway. Becky was already coming around to the side of the vehicle, carrying a large wicker basket, and Grace wanted to shrink into her seat. And then it happened: Just as Becky was about to get in, she spotted Yonnie, her startled gaze darting from Grace to Yonnie and back again.

Grace offered a warm smile, but poor Becky was staring at the front seat, a puzzled look on her sweet face. Then, right quick, she lowered her head to look at her feet as she waited for Martin to slide open the door. Her face and neck were growing redder with each second.
She has every reason to fume,
Grace thought, wondering what Yonnie might say when Becky had to squeeze past him to get to the backseat.

“Hullo, Becky,” Yonnie said cheerfully. But Becky remained silent as she got settled behind them in the third row.

Grace was mortified.

No doubt Becky was fretting, her eyes mining a hole into Grace’s back.

The air was thick with tension; Grace felt her neck might snap. She honestly was sorry for Becky. What could she say to smooth things over with her friend?

I should’ve gone shopping yesterday!
Grace thought, mentally counting the dairy cows in Andy Riehl’s pasture as they rode in silence. Then she counted the pickets on the white fence as they passed the deacon’s front yard. She recalled shucking corn there on the screened-in porch behind the house with Becky and her family. The pair had attempted to smoke a hand-rolled cigar Becky had “borrowed” from Dawdi Riehl, and they’d nearly choked to death. Or so they thought. With a smile, Marian Riehl had simply said,
“Love allows for plenty of forgiveness.”

The Lord says to forgive repeatedly.
Yet Grace wondered if Becky ever would forgive this.

Martin stopped at the Bontrager family’s gray stone house and came around to open the door, even though Yonnie needed no help getting out. “Have a nice day, Grace . . . Becky,” said Yonnie, offering each a pleasing smile and a nod.

“You too,” Grace answered out of sheer habit. Again Becky said nothing, although her breath was now coming in short little gasps. Grace wanted to turn around and insist that Becky move up beside her. But Martin was already closing his door up front and putting the van into gear.

Yonnie must think he can flit in and out of our lives without a
single consequence.

She recalled his eager, if not jovial expression, when he’d first entered the van. Had he been watching for his chance to ride with her? She hardly thought it possible that he’d had time to wait around the barn, peering out at her.

Yonnie came around and knocked on Martin’s window, his face flushed with what looked to be embarrassment. “Won’t ya let me pay you for the ride?” he asked. But as Grace expected, Martin refused anything for such a short trip, and Yonnie nodded his thanks.

Grace noticed his younger sister Mary Liz, raking the side yard and wearing a dark blue kerchief wound around her head. Mary Liz had once tried to explain to Becky her brother’s plan to find the “perfect girl” to court and marry. To think his own sister must’ve considered Yonnie’s odd plan a legitimate one—nothing peculiar about it. To Grace, this had been one of the first indications the whole Bontrager family was cut from a different fabric, even though they’d transferred their church membership here soon after arriving.

Martin backed the van up the tree-lined drive all the way out to the main road. Still feeling tense about Becky, Grace kept her face forward, staring at the Bontragers’ white rose trellis attached to the side of the house. She recalled going there with Mamma and Mandy, too, taking dozens of cookies, several loaves of bread, and a sour cream spice cake to the womenfolk’s initial welcoming get-together when Ephram Bontrager and his family joined church. They’d found the then-rented house to be thoroughly modern—Yonnie’s father had gotten permission from the bishop to keep the electric wiring intact. But after a few months, when the English landlord allowed them to lease to own, Ephram had hired Preacher Josiah and a few other men to tear it all out. As owners, they were prohibited to use it. ’
Tis a riddle,
Grace thought,
how they could use the home’s electricity only as renters.