The Telling (16 page)

twenty-five

With nine siblings, Lettie should’ve guessed her sisters would be the first to drop by Thursday morning, staggering their visits over the space of a few hours. Their calls were punctuated by those of more than a half dozen nieces, several cousins, and three sisters-in-law.

“The grapevine’s workin’ overtime, I daresay,” her sister Mary Beth said, grinning as she carried in a hamper filled with food.

Older sister Lavina nodded cheerfully. “There’s a salmon loaf in there, made with rice. We cooked up lots of roast, too. Gravy for the roast is separate and all ready to heat up.” Lavina also set several containers of chocolate chip cookies on the kitchen table. “We can’t stay long – we’re makin’ hay today.”

Mary Beth said they were doing the same. “But we’ll come again soon.”

“I understand... and thanks ever so much for your thoughtfulness,” Lettie said between hugs, both glad and embarrassed to see so many of her extended family coming and going. Aside from the occasional furtive look, it was akin to a reunion.
They’re scrutinizing me... but can I blame them?

Later, when the house was not so bustling, she sat at the kitchen table and dashed off a note to Cousin Hallie, letting her know she was home.
Hard as it was, I’ve now told Judah – and our children – about the daughter I gave up. Please keep praying for peace to fill our hearts... especially on the day of the next Preaching service, one week from this Lord’s Day.

Lettie went on to note that the family was well, and a few other bits of local news she knew her cousin would appreciate hearing.

I’m so thankful for the time I could spend with you and Ben. Remember you’re always welcome to visit anytime. Write when
you can.

With love from your cousin,
Lettie.

When she finished, she thought of writing to Susan Kempf, but there was work to be done in the garden. Grace was working at Eli’s part of the day, so it was just Mandy and herself.

Lettie quickly addressed the envelope to Hallie and realized, as she glanced around the kitchen, she was still finding her place in a house that had managed to run quite well without her. A bit unsettling, but Mamm would say it was a compliment to her mothering skills.

She left the letter on the corner cupboard, planning to take it to the mailbox later. Then she headed outdoors to help Mandy hoe and weed the vegetable garden.

About an hour later, when she was washing her hands at the kitchen sink, she heard Mamm calling to her from the hallway. “Come on over,” Lettie called.

Her mother appeared, hanging back a bit. “Guess I’m still getting used to havin’ ya home.”

“Well,” she said, “I s’pose I am, too.”

Mamm went to sit at the foot of the table and leaned forward on her elbows. “Marian’s itchin’ to put up jam a week from tomorrow. Told her I’d be happy to make it in my kitchen.”

“Sounds just fine. Anyone else want to join us?”

“Sally Smucker does.”

“Then it’ll be the six of us, counting Grace and Mandy. If Grace doesn’t have other plans,” Lettie added.

Mamm looked up at her. “Ah, our Gracie.” She sighed. “I’ve never said a peep before, but are you fine with her workin’ for Englischers like Janet Puckett?”

“Frankly, the world’s squeezing in around us, Mamm, and movin’ closer all the time.” Their eyes met. “Janet’s a good woman, and Gracie comes in contact with English customers at Eli’s all the time.” Lettie sighed. “We can’t shield her, ya know.”

“Well, at least she’s already joined church.”

Lettie straightened her apron and went to sit with Mamm. “She joined so young... even before I did as a youth, remember?”

Mamm’s eyes widened. It was clear she remembered, all right.

“Still, makin’ the church vow is only part of what makes someone right with God and the People.”

Mamm agreed. “And Grace, well, she surely lives up to her name.”

“I’m thankful for that,” Lettie said softly.

“Well, if you’re up for coming, I’ll organize things for the jam-making next week.” Mamm said. “Maybe Mandy can help me wash the canning jars and whatnot beforehand.”

“Sure, and we’ll all be out in the strawberry patch first thing Friday morning.”

“We can eat the firmest ones for supper,” Mamm suggested.

“And use the bigger ones for jam.”

Mamm nodded but her eyes reflected her weariness.
No doubt from all the wondering and waiting,
Lettie presumed, still aware of the lingering ache in her own heart.
Ach, such a bittersweet time of reunion!

From her window Heather saw several patients having a short break after their classes that morning. Three were strolling along the creek below the formal lawn, and two others were milling around the rose gardens. One woman linked arms with another, which put a lump in Heather’s throat.

We’re all in the thick of it now.

She wondered if any of the others felt as weak as she did. After the hot and cold showers, the nausea had hit her hard. It might be a textbook response to a cleanse, but it still felt perfectly miserable. To think Heather had hoped she might not experience much of a reaction.

Boy, was I wrong!
She shivered as she headed back to bed, unable to get warm as she curled into a tight ball beneath the sheet and lightweight blanket. She was aware of her pounding pulse, and in her heightened anxiety and discomfort, she wondered if she might be dying.

How can anyone feel like this and survive?

The intense nausea made her weaker than any bout of stomach flu she’d ever experienced. Every time she raised her head, the room began to spin rapidly, competing with the violent churning of her stomach.

She lay there, gripping the pillow and moaning. Squeezing her eyes tight, she clenched her teeth and tried with everything in her to regain control. But thoughts of her deceased mother swam in her dizzy head, causing hot tears to trickle toward her ears.
Oh, Mom... I wish you were here to help me.

She contemplated her master’s thesis, sadly unfinished. Of course, she hadn’t really expected to wrap it up this summer, but its incomplete state evoked further anxiety. If she died today, she’d never complete her graduate degree... never see her academic dreams fulfilled.

Unable to relax, a list of must-do’s formed in Heather’s head – other things she wanted to accomplish: land a great-paying job, buy her own place, tuck money away for the future.
A future that might not exist...

Suddenly she was startled by a vision of her young Amish mother, a mere teenager dressed in the style of clothing she’d seen in Ohio. This unfamiliar likeness collided with her earlier recollection of her modern, adoptive mother.

Heather tried to make sense of the contradictory collage in her mind as the two images merged into one vague apparition. And, just as quickly, the two began to separate and her adoptive mom’s face reappeared – she looked healthy and whole – leaving the other filmy and featureless. What played most strongly in Heather’s mind was the fact that if she died now, she would never meet the Amishwoman who’d given her life.

I’ll be dead and gone before we have a chance to find each other.
She was seized by an urgency unlike any she’d ever known.
Has she even looked for me, God?

Gasping for air, she rolled to her left side, just as LaVyrle had said to do when nauseous. But even the change in position made no difference. If anything, the pain was increasing, along with her irrational thoughts.

If she hadn’t felt so deathly ill, Heather wouldn’t have been thinking in such morose tones. Was it the release of toxins that was producing these crying jags... even her depression?
Can that also make me suddenly want to locate my biological parents?

She tried to shrug it off, but try as she might, she could not dismiss this new, unforeseen desire. Her mind was in turmoil over her Plain origins and the very real likelihood of never connecting with her natural mother. Such a strange and perplexing fear! For the first time in her life, Heather literally yearned to find her original family, and above all, the woman who’d given birth to her. Before today, such thoughts had felt somehow awkward. Even as a little girl, whenever she had thought in passing of her biological parents out of mere curiosity, she had quickly pushed the interest aside for love of her adoptive parents.

Was this longing due to the cleanse... or to the seriousness of her illness? Whatever its source, she was determined to act on it – if only she could find the strength. Another wave of nausea overtook her, and Heather clutched her stomach and willed the pain away.
How much more can I tolerate?

She made an attempt to double up the covers for additional warmth but was fearful to raise her head in case she lost consciousness. Instead she leaned up slightly to scan the room, hoping to spot another blanket.
It can’t be so chilly this close to June... my body’s thermostat must be completely out of whack.

When Arielle came to check on her, Heather felt too hazy to explain what was happening, except to point to her stomach, indicating pain. She wanted to vomit.

“Continue resting, Heather, and I’ll give you some peppermint essential oil – three small drops in a cup of warm water will settle things,” Arielle suggested, coming to stand near her bed. “You’ll need to sip it slowly and keep it away from your eyes. It’s quite potent and can sting a bit.”

“Why do I feel like this?” LaVyrle’s instruction had flown right out of her head.

“Most likely the pain is due to the dying yeast and other unfriendly intestinal bacteria. Remember, your body’s cleaning house.” Arielle explained that yeast was “an opportunistic parasite. It’s a friendly environment for cancer cells.”

Trying to be polite in the midst of her pain, Heather struggled to keep her eyes open, willing herself to understand what was happening.

“Your body’s in fight mode, just as it should be – cancer is a very real battle,” Arielle told her. Her expression was gentle, caring. “The goal is for your body to become inhospitable to cancer cells.”

Heather made an attempt to nod her head in response to what she was hearing, but right now she wasn’t sure who was going
to win.

“We have to work
with
our bodies to fight the disease.” Arielle smiled down at her. “I’ll run and get that peppermint oil for you, okay?”

“Thanks.”
Please hurry,
thought Heather, thinking again of her mom.
If she prayed for me... why couldn’t I pray for myself now?

Lying there, she reached gingerly for her iPhone on the table near the bed. She wasn’t the best pray-er on the planet, but her friend Jim was. Maybe he would agree to talk to God for her. But when she tried to key in a text message, she couldn’t see the letters due to wooziness. The phone fell, clattering, to the floor, and she was too weak to reach for it.

The thought of losing her ability to connect with Jim or anyone in her address book – despite the fact Arielle was coming right back – put Heather in a panic.
I don’t want to die like this, God. Please don’t let me die alone!

twenty-six

Martin Puckett was pleased the day was warm and sunny. Two very talkative Amish carpenters were his passengers today, telling humorous stories about filling silo and shoeing horses. He’d also heard much about the “Englisher building the Amish house” – enough that his curiosity was piqued. Today he hoped to finally meet Roan Nelson himself at the house site, where Martin was presently heading.

When he pulled up, he noticed several men already on the site. Two were Amish; the other two were not.

The forms had already been set into place for the foundation. Once it was poured and cured, the house could literally be framed within days. He’d observed barn raisings and Amish farmers supplementing their income by building gazebos and toolsheds. But this would be the first time he had seen them build a house up close.

Early on, when Roan Nelson first purchased the property, he’d had a driveway put in on the north side, carefully avoiding the mature trees.
Somebody’s on the ball.
Martin respected home builders who didn’t tamper with nature.

“Here we are,” he said, pulling onto the shoulder. An attractive-looking tan Camry was parked nearby. He assumed it was Roan’s as he got out and went around to open the van door to let out his passengers, accepting the cash payments as they exited.

When he asked Josiah Smucker, the preacher-carpenter, to point out Roan Nelson, Josiah replied, “That’s him over yonder, standin’ near the foundation.”

“Thanks.” Martin closed the door and walked toward the Virginia man. “Hello, I’m Martin Puckett.... I drive the Amish for a living. I’ll be bringing a lot of the men here each day.” He shook the well-dressed man’s hand. “Josiah says you’re in charge.”

Roan smiled. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He glanced at Josiah. “I try to stay out of the master carpenter’s way. From what I’ve heard, the man was born with a hammer in his hand.”

Martin laughed, having heard the same. “He’s the one to turn to if you want an Amish builder in these parts.”

“I’m lucky to have caught him at the right time,” Roan admitted.

“Anymore the Amish around here are having to find work other than farming – farming’s just too costly.”

Roan nodded. “And some have found pretty creative niches for themselves, like making baseball bats.”

Martin was pleased at how well-informed Roan already seemed to be about the area. He wondered how the man had come to take an interest in the Amish.

But Roan obviously had other things on his mind, and he waved at Martin to follow him around the house in progress. “Would you like to hear about the floor plan?” Roan asked. “You have time?”

“Sure do.” As Martin fell into step with him, they also talked of the ingenious ways the Amish workmen were able to get by without electricity, powering their building tools with compressed air pumped by diesel engines. “There’s an Amishman not far from here who builds modular homes in his warehouse – makes ten or eleven a year. It takes only about five weeks to put each one together,” Roan said, walking the area where he said the foundation was to be poured today. “I understand it’s a lucrative family-run business.”

Martin hadn’t heard of that operation. “How big are the houses?”

“Average size is fifteen hundred square feet. The cabinet maker I’m working with told me about the operation.”

Martin pushed his hands into his pants pockets, imitating Roan’s relaxed manner. “If you don’t mind my asking, why did you choose to build here, in a mostly Plain neighborhood?”

“Well, my wife and I liked to come here on family trips quite often for years before she passed away.” Roan glanced over his shoulder, then back at Martin. “We’d planned to retire here... always enjoyed this area.”

“It’s about as nice a place as I can imagine living in,” Martin said. “My wife and I grew up in Lancaster County, so we’ve always been near Amish.”

Roan smiled amicably. “A unique people.”

Martin nodded wholeheartedly. “They certainly are. I, for one, admire their work ethic – their honesty, generosity, cordiality... the whole nine yards.”

Roan showed him the location of the well, already dug and installed. “We found it by water witching,” he said, “with the help of a guy named Potato John. Sounds fictitious, doesn’t it?”

Martin grinned. “You’ll hear all kinds of nicknames round here.”

They walked in silence for a while. Then Roan mentioned that his daughter was presently at the nearby natural treatment center for cancer. He pointed in the direction of the Wellness Lodge, which Martin had heard good things about.

“Certainly hope all goes well for her... and for you.”

“Thanks.” Roan offered a warm handshake. “Very nice talking with you.”

“Same here.” No matter how many people he ran into in his line of work, Martin was always amazed whenever he hit it off so well with someone he’d just met. “Feel free to look me up anytime.” He dug into his wallet and pulled out his business card. “I’ll be glad to show you around Lancaster County – have you and your daughter over for dinner sometime.”

Roan’s smile was wide and sincere. He glanced in the direction of the lodge. “We might take you up on that.”

Martin headed back to his van, wondering if Roan had put any money down on the project or even signed a contract with Josiah Smucker. From what he’d heard about such dealings with Amish, the only thing required was a firm handshake.

The old-fashioned way.

While Heather waited for the peppermint oil to take effect, she tried to remain calm. Arielle had retrieved the iPhone from the floor and placed it on the bedside table with a smile when she’d returned with the warm drink. She sat near the bed for a time, not saying much – just offering her presence as comfort. Then, after a while, she got up. “If you feel worse, just call me at the number downstairs, Heather,” she said.

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Heather reached for the phone and cradled it in her hands. Dare she contact Jim? Typically, he was the first to text her each day.
But, hey, this is the new millennium,
she told herself and sent him a greeting.

Within seconds he replied.
Hope your day’s off to a great start. Let me know how it’s going.

Got slammed by my first cleansing crisis,
she wrote.
Thought I might not make it.

He wrote back:
How well I remember. Hang in there – I promise it gets better.

Still feeling too ill to even get out of bed, Heather told Jim she’d actually contemplated trying to find her biological mother.
A completely radical thing for me.
She sent the text before realizing he didn’t even know she was adopted.
Yikes,
she thought. But it was too late now.

Soon he wrote again.
I’m composing a prayer for you. OK if I send it by email?

Now, this was some way to get a girl’s attention!

I need all the help I can get,
she typed quickly and sent it before she could change her mind. The truth was, Heather felt desperate. Staring at her phone, she waited to read Jim’s prayer, written on her behalf... to God.

After ten minutes passed and no email appeared, she filled the time by looking up the Ohio Adoption Registry online, hoping to get information on how to locate her birth parents. From perusing the site, it appeared to be rather easy, although the court records were sealed for adoptions that had occurred between January 1, 1964, and September 18, 1996. She bookmarked the adoption registry site and decided she’d go to a twenty-four-hour copy shop to print the form, then submit it once she was released from the lodge.

If I survive this...