Until the End of Time (24 page)

“English?” He had picked up on the word.

“Outsiders. Anyone who’s not Amish. We’re all ‘English’ to them. They’ve been living the same way since the seventeenth century. And for them, not much has changed. Many of them still speak German, or a form of it, just as their ancestors did when they came to this country. Even their clothes haven’t changed, as I’m sure you know. I doubt that her father would let you see her if you just showed up at their farm. They’re very protective of their women. I’ve only seen her a couple of times. She delivered the milk when her brothers were sick, when she had me send you the book. It must have seemed providential to her.”

“And to me,” Bob said, sounding pensive. “I wonder how she got my address.”

“I have no idea. She gave it to me on a scrap of paper.”

“How old is she?”

Joe thought about it for a minute, remembering her face that day. “Early twenties. She takes care of her father and brothers. Her mother died in a school shooting we had here. A crazed gunman got into the school and shot her mother and five little girls. A terrible tragedy. It happened seven years ago.”

“I remember reading about it,” Bob said in a hushed tone. It gave insight into the manuscript he had read, and the person behind it. But he wondered how she had known all the places she had described, and written about them so well, if she had never left her father’s farm, and he was one of the elders of the church, which must have meant he was very strict. And then Bob had an idea. “If I send you an e-mail, do you suppose you could print it out and get it to her? I’m assuming they don’t have a computer.”

Joe laughed at the idea. “Not likely. No electricity, no phone, no electronics, some Amish don’t even have indoor plumbing. If there were no computers in the 1600s when they got here, they don’t have one now. But yes, I could print up an e-mail for her. Her brothers come in every day. They’re just young kids, so hopefully they won’t forget to give it to her. The boys are around eleven or twelve. We can try. If they don’t give it to their father first.” Bob hadn’t thought of that. He had a brilliant manuscript written by a girl who was completely inaccessible, and living in the seventeenth century. It was like contacting someone in a time machine. But it only made him want to reach her more. He was dying to go to Pennsylvania himself to see her. And he intended to. But he wanted to get in touch with her first. He didn’t want to get her in trouble, or have her father forbid her to see him, which sounded entirely possible, particularly if she was young.

“I’ll give it a try,” Bob said about the e-mail. “And thank you so much for your help.” It occurred to him that the owner of the dairy was being particularly cooperative as a go-between. He had no way of knowing that it was Joe’s way of honoring his own distant past, and something about Lillibet had touched him in a tender place in his heart. And Joe felt for what she had gone through losing her mother. Maybe she needed a friend.

“Happy to oblige.” He didn’t want to anger Henryk Petersen either. But he had agreed to help Lillibet get her manuscript to New York, and now he wanted to help her get a response, particularly if the New York publisher liked the book. That would be exciting for her. “I’ll put your e-mail in an envelope and give it to the boys when they come in.”

“Thank you so much,” Bob said, and hung up, thinking about everything he had heard from Joe Lattimer, who she was, how old, who her father was, how they lived, and even how her mother had been killed, which sounded tragic to him, and had obviously heavily impacted Lillibet’s life. And with everything he learned about her, he wanted to know more. He had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge about her.

He sent a short e-mail from his home computer to the e-mail address Joe had given him. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he didn’t want to frighten her away, so he was extremely cautious and to the point.

“Miss Petersen, I have had the great pleasure of reading your very remarkable book. At your convenience, I would like to come to Lancaster to discuss it with you, and make an offer to publish it. Please let me know how, where, and when it would be easiest for you
to meet. Congratulations on an extraordinary book! Respectfully, Robert Bellagio.” And he added the phone numbers and e-mail where she could reach him. Given what Lattimer had said, Bob was sure she would be obliged to use the owner of the dairy farm to respond to him.

He sent the e-mail to Joe, and all he could do after that was wait to hear from her. It came through on Joe’s office computer, and he printed it and put it in an envelope for her, to give to her brothers later. And he told the two dairy hands to let him know when the boys came by that day. He didn’t have long to wait. They showed up just before noon, and Joe went outside and handed one of the twins the envelope, after inquiring about their father. The boys were identical, so he was never quite sure which one he was talking to. He had written Lillibet’s name on the envelope and told her brother to be sure to give it to her, and he promised he would. And then they hopped in the buggy and drove home. Sometimes they came with Willy, but they hadn’t that day, and they were perfectly capable of delivering the milk without him and had done so several times. Joe forgot about it after that, having accomplished his mission. But Bob Bellagio didn’t. He went to the office and obsessed about her all day. He walked over to talk to Pat Riley about it. If possible, Pat’s desk was a bigger mess than before and seemed to have gotten worse over the weekend.

“I read that manuscript that came wrapped in the apron,” Bob commented. “The book is an incredible piece of work, written by a young Amish girl. I’m going to make her an offer. If I can get to her,” Bob said, looking nervous.

“What does that mean? Is she in hiding?”

“Might as well be. Do you know anything about the Amish?”

“Not much,” Pat admitted. “They dress funny, are conscientious objectors, I think, and live in Pennsylvania.”

“They live in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Whatever didn’t exist then, they don’t have now, including phones, cars, computers, televisions, and any electrical equipment. They’re a very tight religious sect, run by the elders of the church, and unless I get her father’s permission or she runs away, which is unlikely, I won’t be able to get near her.”

“Jesus, it sounds like jail.” Pat looked impressed.

“Maybe. Supposedly they like it, and they’re said to be very nice people. I just don’t know how they feel about women publishing books. Something tells me they won’t like it.”

“It’s like the Dark Ages,” Pat commented. “How old is she? Twelve?”

“She’s in her early twenties. They’re not supposed to have contact with people outside their community. Not just the women, the men too. So this should be interesting. I sent her an e-mail this morning, to be hand-delivered by her brothers.” And he told Pat about his conversation with Joe Lattimer.

“It sounds very cloak and dagger,” Pat said with a grin, “and you’re right, very seventeenth century. Maybe you could fight a duel for her, with her father, over the book. Or her boyfriend, if she has one.”

“We’ll see how it goes,” Bob said cryptically. He didn’t want to admit to his junior editor that he was fascinated by her and had thought about her all weekend. It sounded too crazy. It was wild enough that they had gotten a handwritten manuscript from an
Amish girl that he wanted to publish. But the book was terrific, and he was sure it would be a smash hit, if they could get it, which remained to be seen. He certainly hoped so. And in the meantime, her apron lay on his desk at the office. He had brought it back with him. It was beginning to feel like a security blanket. He kept taking it with him, so he had a part of her or something familiar to her, like a talisman, near at hand.

Margarethe had come over to make ice cream with Lillibet that afternoon. It had been so hot, Lilli thought it would be a nice treat for the boys and her father when they finished working, and Margarethe had agreed to help her. They talked about nothing in particular. They had seen each other at the Sunday service the day before, which had gone on for the usual three hours. And Margarethe mentioned to Lilli that one of her daughters was having another baby, and the youngest who had just gotten married was pregnant as well. She was seventeen years old. And once in a while, when Lillibet heard about girls that age getting married and starting families, it made her feel ancient. She had led the life of a grown woman for so many years.

“Nathaniel Weiss is ready to start courting again,” Margarethe said casually as they worked on the ice cream. He had lost his wife the year before and was in his early thirties. His wife had died in childbirth, and he had five children.

“That’s nice,” Lilli said, clearly with no interest.

“He’s a fine-looking man.” Margarethe tried again, and Lilli smiled at her.

“No,” she said simply. “I brought up three boys, and I take care of Papa. I don’t need five more and a husband. In a few more years the boys will be married and on their own, and I’ll only have Papa to take care of. Why would I want to start all over again? Would you want to, and have ten more children?”

“If that was what God wanted for me, I would. We’re not meant to be idle, Lilli,” she said gently.

“I haven’t been. But I never get time to myself.” She wanted hours to read and daydream and write, whenever she liked. Every moment of her day was filled now, with doing for someone else, and it had been since she was seventeen. Margarethe was forty-one years old, had married at sixteen, and had had twenty-five years of children and grandchildren, although her husband had died many years before and left her a great many acres. The community had helped her ever since and lent her a hand with her children. And now they were old enough to work her farm.

“Would you marry again?” Lilli asked her with interest, although she couldn’t see why. She didn’t need to and was never lonely. But Lilli knew that her father liked her, even though they were just friends. He had never really gotten over her mother and her shocking death.

“I might, if the right man turned up at my door.”

“Like my father?” Lilli asked her bluntly.

“Maybe. He never asked. And I don’t think he will. We’re comfortable as friends. And he has you. He doesn’t need a wife to run his house.” And he was seventy, not in the first bloom of youth, but he was strong and energetic and looked younger than his years. Margarethe had always thought that if Lilli married, Henryk might want to
marry again. And Margarethe was comfortable as she was. Living in the community they did, they enjoyed the company of other women, and the men were always near at hand to help. “He was so in love with your mother, I think it’s taken him years to get over it, and maybe he never will.” Lilli nodded at what she said. She still missed her mother too. She was so gentle and wise, so beautiful and so smart and funny. There was no one else like her. She had always known just what to do or say. And it was always the perfect answer. Lilli wished she could be like her one day.

Henryk and the boys were delighted with the ice cream when they got home, and Margarethe stayed for dinner. None of her children were at home anymore, so she had more free time than the younger women, like Lilli, whose chores and tasks with the boys were never done until bedtime. And in winter, she did homework with the twins.

Henryk and Margarethe sat and talked for a while, and then she went home, and Lilli had some sewing to do, and then she scolded the boys into bed. She had just said good night to the twins, when Markus remembered something and jumped out of bed. He grabbed an envelope out of the pocket of the trousers he had worn that day and handed it to her with a sheepish grin.

“I forgot to give this to you. It’s from Mr. Lattimer at the dairy.” She was surprised to get any letter, and opened it as she walked out of the boys’ room. She stopped dead when she read it, and then hurried to her bedroom and sat down on her bed. Her legs were shaking so hard, she could hardly stand up. She had just read Bob Bellagio’s e-mail to her about how much he liked her book. She folded the letter carefully and slipped it under her mattress without
a sound. And a moment later she went back downstairs to check on her father. He was asleep in his chair, after a long day at the plow. He was still as active as the younger men, but tired at night. She woke him gently and told him to go to bed. He smiled and patted her hand and went to his own room a few minutes later. She turned off the kerosene lamps and blew out the candles and then went upstairs herself. She took out the letter and read it again, and all she knew was that she had to get back to the dairy to answer him. But she had no idea how she would ever see him. She knew she had to find a way, and as she lay in bed that night, she prayed to her mother to help her. She was sure that writing the book had been her mother’s idea, so now she had to take her the rest of the way.

Chapter 15

Willy worked in the fields with his father and older brothers again the next day, and the twins were going to the dairy with the milk alone, when Lillibet stopped them and surprised them by saying she would go with them. She had her bonnet on and was ready to leave.

“Why? You don’t need to.” Both boys looked annoyed. They liked getting away from her and delivering the milk alone. She was always scolding them for something or telling them what to do. And Willy shouted at them and boxed their ears. It was much more fun going to Lattimer’s on their own. And they looked glum when she hopped into the buggy at the last minute and tied her bonnet strings.

“It’s fun to take a ride with you two, and all my chores are done.” They weren’t, but she had no other valid excuse. She had slipped the letter into her pocket and had all of Bob Bellagio’s phone numbers with her. She was hoping that Joe Lattimer would let her use his phone. She felt guilty for the imposition, but he was her only conduit to the outside world, and she wanted to reach Bob Bellagio
before he changed his mind about her book. She had no idea that there wasn’t a chance of that in the world.

They got to the dairy quicker than usual when she was with them, and she sent the boys to get the goat cheese for their father, and then slipped into Joe Lattimer’s office, praying he was there. She had no idea how to use a phone. And she wouldn’t have done it anyway without his permission. But fortunately, he was at his desk when she walked in with an anxious look.