Secret Sister Read online

  “Why, I remember when your Daniel was as tall as June cornstalks!” Mary shook her head and clicked her tongue, a look of melancholy showing on her face. “And now he’s getting married? Oh, help! I know how I felt when my last one married, so I’ll pray for you, Esther. It’s a bittersweet moment, for sure and certain.”

  The room became quiet, an unspoken signal that it was time for the pre-meal blessing. Conversations immediately ceased and heads bowed as everyone silently prayed. Almost a minute of silence passed before the bishop lifted his head and, without any further instruction, led the other men toward the table at the far side of the room. Then the women assumed their places at their own table, the one that was set up closer to the kitchen.

  Because the g’may was quite large, there were always two seatings for the fellowship meal. Usually, the older members and those with small children took the first seating. If there was room, the single men might join that seating. But always, the single women and the women of the hosting family worked during the first seating. It was their role to ensure that the water cups were filled and serving platters kept full. It wasn’t unusual for the single women to tend to the men’s table, an innocent way of interacting among the men, especially the unmarried ones.

  During the meal, the women would catch up with each other, sharing news of friends and family from other church districts or of those who had moved far away. While many of the Amish wished nothing more than to live off the land, honoring God by being stewards of the earth, it was increasingly difficult to supply multiple sons with large enough parcels of land for each one to farm. Every year, more and more families left Lancaster to join other communities in states that offered more land, better opportunities, and fewer tourists. Still, the Amish communities of Lancaster County did not decrease in number. Instead, with their high birthrate and many youth taking their baptismal vows, their community maintained a steady growth.

  It was, indeed, a testament to their parents’ faith that so many of their children chose to be Amish by baptismal vow and not just by birth. On that one day of the year, pride shone on the faces of the parents as they watched their children take the kneeling vow and become part of their community.

  Grace knew that feeling well—the pride of that moment. If only it had lasted. Esther’s reminder that baptism was to be held in two weeks seemed to cling to her like a dense fog as she remembered Susan’s choice and how it had torn the family, dividing them into two factions. If only it had ended differently, Grace thought, how different my life might have be.

  “Grace?”

  She lifted her eyes and stared at Hannah. “Hmm?”

  “The platter? Might you pass it down this way?”

  Visions of the past retreated and Grace quickly reached for the plate before her. “Oh, help! I didn’t hear you, Hannah,” she said apologetically as she passed a platter of cold cuts to her. “Mayhaps my hearing’s starting to go.”

  Hannah took the platter and scooped two slices of baloney and one of cheese onto her own plate before passing it along to the woman seated to her right.

  The simple fare served at the fellowship meal usually consisted of fresh bread, cold cuts, pickles, pretzels, coleslaw, applesauce, and chow-chow. It was a meal that could be prepared ahead of time and required no cooking, for Sunday was the Lord’s Day and a time of rest, even for the family who hosted the worship service. After the meal, the young women would bring out their baked goods, replacing the platters of food with apple, shoofly, or pumpkin pie. Returning to the kitchen, they would replenish the initial platters to serve at the second seating.

  On this particular Sunday, Grace felt removed from the conversation. She hadn’t left the house much during the previous week and had little to contribute. Instead, she smiled when appropriate and added a little “Oh, my!” as needed in order to appear engaged in the conversation; that way, no one would notice her reticence.

  Deep down, however, her thoughts turned back to the earlier conversation with Mary, Lizzie, and Hannah. Was she truly to live the rest of her life alone, with no interaction with her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren? Why, Ivan’s oldest son, Levi, should be marrying soon. Ivan’s second child, sweet Lydia, had just turned twenty! It wouldn’t be long before the next generation would all be settling down. Of course, Linda’s older kinner were already married and had boppli, although Grace heard little news on that front. Ever since she had married and moved onto her husband’s farm, Linda seemed more and more distant from her family in Akron, clearly preferring the liberal nature of her new church district over her parents’ emphasis on the more conservative and Plain lifestyle.

  Oh, she thought with a deep ache in her heart, if only she could have done a better job at raising her children! Perhaps then she wouldn’t be facing the holidays, the very first since Menno died, alone.

  The air in the room suddenly became still and she realized that everyone’s head was bowed for the after-prayer. She followed the others’ example, thankful for the distraction from the painful thoughts that had crept into her mind. For years, she had learned to compartmentalize things that evoked painful emotions. She had learned to put those emotions and thoughts into a little box, lock it, and tuck it away into the far recesses of her mind. It just wasn’t worth it to think about things that were in God’s hands and not hers.

  “You’ll come over later for Scrabble, then?”

  Grace turned to look at Hannah. “Scrabble?”

  Hannah clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Ach, Grace, you must be feeling poorly to forget that we talked about playing Scrabble just last Wednesday! Why, it’s my turn to beat you this week!”

  Trying to feel less distracted, or at least appear so, Grace gave a little laugh. “Oh, Hannah,” she said, dragging out her friend’s name in a playful manner. “I’m not so sure that would happen. What has it been? Three weeks since you last won?”

  “Six o’clock, then?”

  Grace nodded and promised that she’d be there promptly at six. Though she much preferred staying home, she knew it would do her good to spend an evening visiting with Hannah and playing a friendly board game. They’d have decaf coffee and, if Grace was lucky, maybe even some popcorn. Hannah always made the best popcorn, sprinkling a bit of brewer’s yeast instead of butter over the popped kernels.

  As she walked home from the service, wanting both the exercise and the quiet time, she thought back on the day. The bishop was correct; she needed to turn her complaints and problems over to God in prayer. While her heart would never heal from the loss of her husband, she still had a life to live with her friends and community.

  Dear Lord, she prayed as she walked, I accept this burden of loss and know that You still have plans for me. I have been weak, dwelling on my loss, instead of praising Your gifts. Give me strength to try harder, as Menno always taught me. Through You, I can find the strength to live once again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  October 7, 2015

  RAIN BEGAN TO fall around five in the evening, so Grace wasn’t expecting any visitors. Earlier she had eaten a small bowl of homemade chicken soup with a freshly made roll before turning on the propane lantern in the sitting room. With the sun setting earlier each evening, she often sat in her reclining chair and crocheted until bedtime. The quiet of the house felt heavy to her, so she began to hum one of her favorite hymns, “How Great Thou Art.” The words and the melody always created a soothing sense of peace within her.

  When she heard the knock on the door, she startled. She glanced at the grandfather clock and saw that it was well after seven. For just a brief moment, Grace thought she had imagined the noise. Sure enough, there was a second knock. Someone was visiting, even though one look at the window showed that the rain was really pouring down now.

  “Oh, my!” she exclaimed to herself as she set down her yarn and stood up, wondering who could be visiting her on a Wednesday evening and in the middle of a rainstorm, no less.

  As she opened the front do
or, a strong gust of wet wind greeted her even before she could focus her eyes on the figure standing there. “Mary Esh? Whatever are you doing visiting in such weather?” Taking a step backward, she motioned for Mary to enter. “Come inside, dear. You’ll catch sick!”

  A tall figure in black hurried into the sitting room, shivering as Grace shut the door behind her. “It sure is cold, ain’t so?” Mary laughed as she unpinned her black wool shawl and hung it on the metal hook by the door, the drops of rain glistening on the fabric and dripping onto the floor. “Oh, help,” she muttered. “Your floor’s going to be wet, Grace!”

  “Never you mind. Let me fix you a coffee, warm you up inside.”

  She hurried into her small kitchen and Mary followed her. With expert ease, Grace filled up a kettle of water and placed it on the stove. When she turned the knob, the gas made a soft poof and the flame began to burn under the kettle.

  “Are you on your way home, then?” Grace reached for the jar of instant coffee from the cabinet and took down two coffee mugs. “You dare not stay long, Mary, what with the rain and all. You know how those Englische cars are on slick roads.”

  “I’ll be just fine. It’s just a few houses down the road,” Mary responded with a dismissive wave of her hand. Her friend reached into the pocket of her apron and brought out a small wrapped package. “The mailman delivered this to our haus and it looked important. I wanted to ensure you received it straightaway.”

  Grace stared at the plain brown wrapping and saw a blurry line of print on the outside of the package. Without her glasses, she couldn’t read the words. “Is that for me, then?” she asked, genuinely surprised. No one had ever sent her a gift through the mail.

  “I didn’t go forgetting your birthday now, did I?”

  “Nee, nee,” Grace laughed as she reached for the package. Curiosity got the best of her and she opened it in front of Mary. There was no note inside, only something soft wrapped inside white tissue paper. “What in the world?” When she slid her finger along the taped seam of the paper, she glanced at Mary. “This came to your mailbox?”

  Mary nodded. “Just today. With your name on my address and no return address on it. Must have made a mistake in writing the address, I reckon.”

  “That is curious,” Grace said as she unfolded the tissue paper, the crinkling noise filling the silence of the room. As the layers peeled back, she saw a pretty white handkerchief. The edge was handstitched, and in the lower corner, someone had embroidered a small flower, a purple iris, Grace’s favorite flower. “Oh, help,” she muttered. “Will you look at this, Mary?”

  For a moment, both women admired it: Mary for the fine stitching and pretty design and Grace for a memory that stirred within a little box tucked into the corner of her memory. The white linen. The design of the iris. All so familiar, and yet something she hadn’t thought about since she was eighteen years old.

  “Such a shame there is no name attached to the gift,” Mary sighed.

  Grace glanced up, her thoughts broken by Mary’s words. Indeed, without an address, Grace could not properly thank whoever sent it. “Now why on earth would someone send me such a treasure?” She looked at Mary, her eyes wide and a puzzled expression on her face.

  “There’s only one answer to that question,” Mary replied as she raised an eyebrow and gave a soft smile. “Looks to me like someone has a secret sister!”

  As soon as Mary said it, Grace knew that her friend had spoken true. Something inside her chest warmed at the realization that, somewhere in their g’may or surrounding community, someone cared enough to send her a surprise. No event was associated with the gift, not a holiday, anniversary, or birthday. Instead, it was one of those gifts meant to touch the heart and let the person know how special she was.

  “Ja, vell!” She smiled at her friend. “Isn’t that just something?”

  And for a moment, she stared at the handkerchief, her thumb caressing the flower. Whoever made this had taken a lot of care, for the stitches were small and tight, with multiple colors of purple used to make the flower. The edging was just as pretty. It was a gift she would cherish, although she wondered why anyone would have sent it to her. Who was she to deserve such a special (and surprise!) gift?

  Yet there was something familiar about the handkerchief. As she looked at it, forgetting that Mary stood before her, Grace frowned and searched her memory. What was it? What was nagging at her? Slowly, as if walking through a misty field, she began to remember. The memory unfolded as she returned to the day she turned sixteen, almost fifty years ago, when someone else had given her a similar gift.

  1963

  “Happy birthday, Grace!”

  She had just awoken, somewhat later than usual, but she knew her maem wouldn’t scold her. Not today of all days. After all, it was Grace’s birthday and a special one at that! Of course, Grace hadn’t meant to oversleep, a fact Maem certainly knew. Grace was never one to miss chores. In fact, on many mornings Grace woke up earlier than the rest of the household and already had a pot of coffee percolating on the stove when her parents emerged from their first-floor bedroom.

  Now, as Grace descended the stairs, she smiled at her younger sister, Anna Mae, who had shouted out the birthday greeting. At twelve years of age, she was becoming a young woman and a good friend, despite the four years’ difference between them. “Danke, Anna Mae.”

  Maem looked up from the counter where she was slicing bread for the breakfast meal. Her dark hair, pulled so tight that the part down the middle exposed her pale skin, was already neatly brushed and tucked under her heart-shaped prayer kapp. She might be only fifty, but she looked older. Quite a bit older. Yet Maem always had a smile on her face. Grace suspected that it radiated from her heart.

  “Well, look at you now!” Maem said as she turned around and walked toward her daughter. “Sixteen at last! I can scarce believe it!” In a rare moment of intimacy, Maem leaned forward and hugged Grace. “Seems like just yesterday you were born. Time sure does pass quick, ain’t so?”

  Feeling a little embarrassed at the extra attention, Grace wasn’t certain how to respond.

  “Sixteen?” a voice said from the doorway.

  It was Benny, her younger brother. The only one in the family with blond hair, and curly at that! He was also the one who tended to get into the most trouble. At thirteen, his ability to filter his comments hadn’t developed quite yet. The most outspoken of the eight children, four of them already married and living with their own families, Benny had a propensity for saying what he thought without caring for the consequences. Grace braced herself for whatever he would say next, for surely it would be sassy. She wasn’t disappointed.

  “Why, that makes you all grown up! Ready for your rumschpringe yet?” He laughed when he said it, those blue eyes twinkling. “Bet you’re gonna go to Philadelphia or wear makeup like those Troyer sisters do!”

  Maem frowned. “Benny! That’s enough.”

  Again he laughed. “Aw, you know it’s true. Emanuel told me himself! He saw those two girls at a diner wearing Englische clothes and colored paint on their faces.”

  Grace tried to hide her amusement with his description of the Troyer twins. “You make them sound like Native Americans going to battle with war paint on their faces!”

  “Need I remind you, Benjamin, that gossip is a sin,” Maem scolded, fixing a serious look on Benny. Whenever she used his full name, the world seemed to stop as that everlasting smile faded from her face. “I’d appreciate it if you focused your thoughts on more godly things. Perhaps you should read some scripture to us while we wait for Emanuel and Daed to come in from the dairy barn.”

  Looking at each other over Benny’s head, Anna Mae and Grace suppressed their smiles. Benny, however, found no joy in his assigned task. Reluctantly, he dragged his feet as he crossed the room to where the family Bible was kept by their father’s reading chair. He plopped down, sighed, and reached for the worn leather book. “Which verse, Maem?”

  She tilte
d her head for a moment as if thinking, but Grace knew that her mother had already selected the verse. The dramatic pause added to the seriousness of her admonition. “I think Ephesians chapter 4.”

  “The whole chapter?”

  “Don’t sass me or you will,” Maem scolded. “Nee, it should suffice if you started at verse seventeen. See what you can learn from that today.”

  Another drawn-out sigh, and then Benny began to read:

  “‘This I say therefore, and testify in the Lord, that ye henceforth walk not as other Gentiles walk, in the vanity of their mind, having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart: who being past feeling have given themselves over unto lasciviousness, to work all uncleanness with greediness. But ye have not so learned Christ. If so be that ye have heard him, and have been taught by him, as the truth is in Jesus: that ye put off concerning the former conversation the old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts; and be renewed in the spirit of your mind; and that ye put on the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness.

  “‘Wherefore putting away lying, speak every man truth with his neighbour: for we are members one of another. Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath: neither give place to the devil. Let him that stole steal no more: but rather let him labour, working with his hands the thing which is good, that he may have to give to him that needeth. Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers. And grieve not the holy Spirit of God, whereby ye are sealed unto the day of redemption. Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice: and be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.’”

  Respectfully, he looked up at his maem and raised an eyebrow as if asking her for approval. She merely smiled and turned back toward her task of preparing breakfast for the family. Her point had been made and the reminder of God’s Word would hopefully tone down Benny’s propensity for trouble, at least for today.