The Secret Keeper Read online

  “You all right?” Marnie whispered.

  “Sure, why?”

  “Just checkin’.”

  A few minutes later, the driver took an unexpected turn, and they headed down the road where her shunned cousin, Katie, and her husband, Dan, had now lived for more than five years. “Look over there,” Marnie said softly, pointing. “That’s Katie’s house.”

  Jenny turned quickly to look.

  There was the familiar meadow, with the creek running through it in the background. Although she’d never darkened the door of the place, Marnie found the clapboard house rather appealing. “Perty, ain’t?”

  Jenny nodded, still staring as they passed. “And no one’s allowed to visit her?”

  She shook her head. “It’s all part of the Bann.” Marnie felt sad just saying it.

  “Can’t anything be done to alter it?” asked Jenny. She certainly was one to nose out the facts.

  “Aside from Katie offering a kneeling confession in front of the membership, what’s done is done.” Marnie wished she hadn’t brought it up. She’d been little more than a schoolgirl when Katie left, yet the pain of separation still tore at her own heart.

  Chapter 14

  The driver dropped Marnie and Jenny off at Uncle Samuel’s, and they strolled up the lane toward the house. “Let me know if there’s anything you need, all right?” Marnie said.

  Jenny tapped the dictionary. “I think this is going to help.”

  “Remember, you’ll pick up our language faster by listening and attempting to speak it.”

  Jenny nodded, but her face looked downcast.

  “What is it?”

  “This has nothing to do with speaking Deitsch.” Jenny seemed hesitant.

  “Go on.”

  “I’m wondering. How do you think Rebecca’s daughter would feel about my wearing her Amish clothes?”

  “Goodness, I doubt she’d care.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Marnie nodded. “Katie’s moved on. I guarantee it. Maybe you’ll run into her at market or somewhere. She’s a spunky sort.”

  “Does she stay in touch with any of her family?”

  Marnie paused. “Bishop John allows written correspondence, as I understand it.”

  “The Bann seems cruel.”

  “I’m sure ya think so. But the shunning’s for the purpose of bringing a wayward church member back into the fold. And it works, at least for some folk.” She could see that Jenny was unconvinced. “Of course, Katie ran off for different reasons than most—wanted to search for her birth mother, of all things.”

  “She wasn’t born Amish?” Jenny’s face was suddenly ashen.

  “No.”

  “This must be so hard for everyone who loved her.”

  “Loves,” Marnie insisted. “Ach, my heart breaks for Aunt Rebecca, the Mamma who raised her. I can’t abide the thought of losing a grown daughter to the world.”

  Jenny glanced away, and if Marnie wasn’t mistaken, there was a tear in her eye. In this awkward moment, was Jenny thinking of her own family back in Connecticut? Here she’d left everything behind for the Amish life, and Katie had done just the opposite.

  A heavy sorrow settled in the pit of Marnie’s stomach. Was this another common strand attaching Jenny to Katie, like stitches in a quilt?

  Dancing splotches of light scattered over the road as Samuel Lapp drove the enclosed family carriage to the Preaching service on Sunday morning. The smell of tilled black earth and a predawn rain fused in the atmosphere as Jenny sat on the back bench of the buggy, peering out at the road behind them. She felt like a modern-day pilgrim watching at least a half dozen other such carriages form a gray caravan. Along the way, she noticed signs posted near mailboxes or at the end of lanes: Bunnies for Sale, Rubber Stamp Supplies, and Firewood for Sale—No Sunday Sales!

  Jenny spotted a young Amish boy on in-line skates who held on to a long rope, attached to the back of one buggy. He couldn’t have been more than eight years old as he skated his way to church. She was tempted to ask Rebecca, sitting up front to the left of her husband, if this was even safe. It certainly looked like fun, and the boy held on tightly as he swung way out and around when the horse and carriage made the turn left.

  “Oh, stink!” Jenny heard Rebecca say.

  “What is it?” Samuel replied.

  “I left my best hankie at home.”

  “Well, is that any reason to be upset?”

  Rebecca went silent.

  “You want me to turn the horse round and go back, is that it?” Samuel said in the irritated tone Jenny had heard before.

  “Nee, go on,” Rebecca replied. “It’s my fault for rushin’ around so.”

  “You’re sure, now?”

  “We’ll be late for church otherwise.” Rebecca sighed. “No, I’ll make do.”

  Samuel was quiet for a few moments; then Jenny heard his breathy “Haw,” as he directed the horse to turn left into the deacon’s lane.

  This close now, she realized that the carriage pulling the skater was crowded in the back with young children. One way to accommodate an extra passenger! she thought, grinning.

  The sun shone through the oak trees along one side of the deacon’s driveway. Jenny squinted at the sky and felt hesitant yet joyful at the thought of attending her first-ever Amish church service. She’d gone to bed “with the chickens” last night, as Rebecca had strongly urged. Jenny had been staying up much too late, unable to rise and shine by five o’clock each morning. “There are no shortcuts to becoming Amish,” Rebecca had gently pointed out to her. Consequently, there had been no late-night session with her journal yesterday, either.

  Still, anything worth doing is worth doing right, Jenny decided, embracing Rebecca’s philosophy as she fell in step with her mentor. Jenny felt a little unsettled knowing the blue dress and white cape apron she wore today was the one Katie had worn for her botched wedding to Bishop John Beiler. Jenny wished Rebecca hadn’t spilled the beans earlier, while they cooked breakfast together. Why tell me? Jenny wondered and decided she would sew her own Sunday clothes as soon as possible.

  She followed Rebecca to the line of women and children, which included a number of small boys. Jenny enjoyed the cool air and the overall feeling of anticipation. She expected the church meeting to be a reverent one. Since much of the service would be in German, Rebecca had informed her of the order and explained what would transpire. Even though Jenny was dressed like the rest of the women, she was still considered a visitor. An English one, at that. She would be thought of this way until she was a full-fledged member of the Hickory Hollow Amish church. After my Proving, she thought, standing with Rebecca until the long line began to shift toward the back door of the farmhouse. Rebecca whispered that it was time for her to take her place with the unbaptized teenaged girls, at the back of the line.

  On her way there, Jenny couldn’t help noticing Andrew Lapp in the procession of men. Besides Samuel and several of Samuel’s nephews, Andrew was one of the few men she recognized. Besides Preacher Yoder. That man had offered a kind smile and a dip of his head earlier when he had arrived with Lovina.

  Near the tail end of the line, a young woman motioned for her to step ahead of her, making Jenny the fifth from the last. “Denki,” she whispered, and the girl nodded but did not smile.

  ———

  Marnie held her breath as she observed Jenny Burns. Goodness, she’d failed to tell Jenny not to look over at the menfolk. You just didn’t do that on Sunday mornings, when everyone’s mind—and heart—was supposed to be fixed on worship. She didn’t think Jenny was actually eyeing the young men, of course. There was so much the seeker would have to learn in order to be thought of as humble and submissive! Glancing over at the men lined up for church wasn’t going to make the best first impression.

  Ach, but Jenny has a good heart. All the letters Marnie had saved surely pointed to that. Marnie glimpsed her again and noted that Jenny looked better rested than on Friday, which was wo
nderful-gut. There was not much worse than being dog tired on a Preaching Sunday!

  Prior to leaving to stand with the unbaptized girls, she said softly to her mother, “Mamm. I want you to meet my friend Jenny today.”

  “Ach, must I?”

  “She’s my friend, Mamm.”

  Her mother was quiet for a moment, then looked away.

  “Isn’t it about time?” Marnie whispered. “She’s been here five days already.”

  “Well, might make better sense to see if she stays around.”

  It bothered her that Mamm wasn’t interested in welcoming Jenny with open arms. She just doesn’t want to meet her, Marnie thought glumly, glancing back at her English friend again.

  I must talk to Jenny before the common meal, Marnie decided, lest the seeker make a serious misstep.

  Jenny quickly decided, once the hymns were finished, that the back of the large front room of the deacon’s house was a perfect spot for a newcomer to fight sleep. Which Jenny certainly did, though less because she was tired and more because she was discouraged. Thanks to Mr. Zimmerman’s high school German class, she had an idea what the first and the second sermons were about, but her head was hurting with the effort required to comprehend even that. And she didn’t think she could sit for another minute, let alone the next full hour. Her seat was numb and her back ached from the hard wooden bench. If it wasn’t so difficult, it would have been comical, especially since she’d read this very thing about Englishers who’d visited Amish church meetings.

  She noticed Rebecca and her married sisters, as well as Marnie and her mother and younger siblings, all sitting straight as pins. She hoped to meet Marnie’s family today, as well as a myriad of others. Yet she knew she would need to wait for them to make the first move—pushing into this cloistered community was not the best way to be accepted.

  When eventually everyone turned to kneel at their bench, she did the same thing, surprised her legs actually worked, as anesthetized as they’d become. She thought of all the times she and Kyle Jackson had gone to college football games, taking along flat bleacher pillows to sit on. She liked the idea of having one for the Preaching service in two weeks.

  Will I even last that long, Lord? she mused, aware of her stomach’s rumbling while everyone else prayed silently. Will I manage to abandon my selfish upbringing and cushy modern lifestyle to bow my knee in contrition and meekness as a baptized Amishwoman?

  Chapter 15

  After the service, Jenny was told there was to be a meeting for only church members. Those who were not baptized headed to the screened-in back porch behind the kitchen. A few teen girls in identical blue dresses to Jenny’s looked shyly at her in passing before wandering down the steps and over to the barn in a cluster. The boys, matching in black trousers and coats with white shirts buttoned to the neck, sauntered in the opposite direction, toward the woodshed.

  Jenny pulled on the black shawl Rebecca had loaned her for the day and waited on the porch with a handful of small children who sat along the wall on a padded bench. Several eyed her while talking softly among themselves in Deitsch. In time, two of the older little girls popped up and began a quiet clapping game, spinning around in between claps, their organdy aprons fluttering about. Jenny wished she could speak their language—she longed to interact, feeling again like the outsider she was. But she continued to watch the well-behaved, even demure youngsters from her corner.

  Sighing, Jenny wished again that she’d grown up here. She wouldn’t have so much catching up to do. And I’d be able to handle the long Preaching service, too! Her previously easy life had spoiled her, making this entry into the Amish world more challenging than she’d ever imagined.

  She looked off toward the distant hills, the landscape shining with the freshness of the day. Birds tweeted and horses neighed in the stable, the sounds of nature blending with the intermittent laughter coming from the nearby woodshed. In the background was the steady drone of the preacher’s voice as he spoke to those still in the house.

  It was some time later, when the private meeting adjourned, that Jenny was greeted by Emmalyn Lapp, who wore a maroon-colored dress with her white apron and Kapp. Her golden blond hair was perfectly parted in the middle and neatly slicked back on either side.

  “Hi, Emmalyn,” said Jenny, hoping she might be more pleasant this encounter.

  “Wie geht’s?” Emmalyn asked, her pale blue eyes wide.

  “I’m fine—how are you?”

  “Ah, so you do know.” The teenager smirked. “Wunnerbaar-gut.”

  “I’m slow but sure.”

  “But are you as hungry as I am?” Emmalyn moved her head gracefully in the direction of the kitchen.

  “I’m starving. How do you say that in Deitsch?” Jenny laughed softly.

  “Did ya understand anything the preachers said?” Emmalyn asked, seemingly ignoring Jenny’s question.

  “Not much.”

  Emmalyn pulled her shawl closer, a slow smile on her face. “If you want to ward off your hunger, just go in and help yourself to some slices of lunchmeat or cheese and whatnot.”

  “Really?”

  “Just to hold you over, ya know.”

  Jenny didn’t have to be told twice. She moved past Emmalyn and went inside, caving in to her hunger pangs. She reached for two slices of bologna and one of Swiss cheese, rolled them up, and took a bite. Then, seeing a pile of bread, she took a slice of that, as well.

  On the way back to the porch, she noticed the bishop’s wife staring at her. Not only Mary Beiler, but also Andrew was looking her way—and grimacing.

  She kept going, her head down a little, and made her way back outside, taking another bite of her delicious snack as she went.

  Emmalyn was no longer in sight when Jenny returned to the porch, so she stood over in the corner, pushing the meat and cheese into the bread and folding it over to make a half sandwich. She was thankful for Emmalyn’s suggestion as she nibbled away but could hardly remember a worse Sunday worship experience. Was she just impatient . . . in need of humility? I want to be one of them, she thought. If I have the fortitude.

  She thought again of the backbreaking service.

  “Uh, Jenny Burns, isn’t it?”

  She whirled around as Andrew Lapp stepped onto the porch.

  She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and refrained from eating the last delectable bite.

  He moved toward her, eyes narrowing. “You’re partaking of food before the brethren?”

  She nodded, not sure she ought to say it was Emmalyn who’d given her the go-ahead. “Is it all right? I mean—”

  “Well, now, the first seating for the shared meal is always for the ministers and folk up in years,” he informed her.

  “But I thought it was all right to . . .” But, no, she wasn’t going to throw his sister under the bus, even though it seemed evident Emmalyn had deliberately misled her.

  “The second seating is for younger marrieds and single young people. You’ll likely sit with my aunt Rebecca and her sisters.” His direct words did not match his mannerly tone. He had a thoughtful way about him, Jenny noticed, and it comforted her, especially now.

  “Denki, Andrew. I really appreciate knowing.”

  At that moment, Lovina Yoder appeared in the doorway, blinking and twisting the front of her apron into a knot. “Ach, I . . .” the preacher’s wife murmured, then hurried back inside.

  Jenny had no clue what was wrong. “I’m terribly confused.” She looked up at Andrew, who still offered his calming presence.

  His blue eyes held her gaze. “Ask me anything at all.”

  “I’ve obviously made a mistake by preempting the meal with a snack.”

  His eyes twinkled suddenly. “And did ya pray a blessing over this nibble?”

  “Actually, I did not.” She paused and noticed a couple of young women looking out the window. One of them was the bishop’s wife. She cringed. “Are we not supposed to be . . . talking?”

  Andre
w drew in a long breath and folded his arms. “The age-old rule is that women are to congregate with like women on Preachin’ Sundays—married women together, and single women with others who are single.”

  “So the men and women mustn’t mingle on Sunday?”

  He was nodding slowly, still gazing intently at her. “Not before or after the Preachin’ service, nee.”

  “Gotcha,” she said, forgetting momentarily that she was supposed to be a quaint, soft-spoken Amishwoman.

  He smiled, his lips parting. “You’ll catch on soon enough, Jenny.”

  “That’s encouraging, thanks.”

  “Do ya mean Denki?”

  “Jah, and that, too.”

  “Da Herr sei mit du.” Andrew turned to head down the back steps, toward the woodshed.

  I’ll have to look that up, Jenny told herself. Did he mean God be with you, perhaps? She ate the last of the unsanctified snack and watched Andrew go, hoping he would keep walking and not look back and see her still staring.

  Chapter 16

  Jenny hoped neither Andrew Lapp nor anyone else was observing her later that afternoon as she watched Marnie’s father, Chester Lapp, hitch up the driving horse and carriage. Chester eyed her warily while he and Marnie slowly backed the driving horse between the shafts as, all the while, Marnie described the process in English. Jenny tried hard to remember the various steps, aware of the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. How many times would she have to be shown this before she could do it herself?

  Once the horse and carriage were successfully hitched, Chester Lapp called for his family to get settled inside for the ride home. Marnie quickly introduced Jenny to her mother, Peggy, who seemed reluctant to shake her hand and greet her. Then, that quickly, Marnie was waving as she climbed into the back with her younger siblings. “I’ll see ya sometime this week, all right?” Marnie said.

  Jenny nodded. “It was nice to meet your parents today.”