You see
But I went out to Indiana a few years ago when I finally located my mothers family. I thought Her voice trembled and fell silent.
But he could finish the sentence. Shed thought she might find her mother.
They stonewalled me. They wouldnt even talk to me about her. So I dont exactly have any reason to like them.
Im sorry. He was. No matter how inconvenient her presence was for him, he couldnt help feeling her grief.
A door closed next door, and he heard a jingling sound that might be a key ring. Eli was coming.
Look, if you want, Ill take you to a motel. Ill make some excuse to Eli. But He was about to involve himself more deeply in Marisas problem, despite his determination to stay uninvolved. But if you really want to find out what happened twenty-three years ago, you might need to have some allies among the local Amish. Eli and Rhoda Miller could be a good place to start.
A little silence fell between them, and her reluctance was so strong he could almost feel it. Then she nodded.
Youre right. Ill stay.
MARISA WOKE SOMETIME in the dark hours of the night, a cry clutching her throat. She sat upright, heart pounding. Had she cried out aloud? She didnt think so, but she cringed at the thought of Eli Miller hearing, running to her room
But he wouldnt hear. First, because the cry had only been in her dreams. And second, because the Millers slept in their own separate section of the house next door. She was the only occupant of the Plain and Fancy.
She rubbed her forehead, willing herself to remember her dream. Something about herself as a child, waking in the night, calling out for her mother. Frightened when Mammi didnt come. Crawling out of bed, drawn toward the window, her bare feet cold on the wide wooden boards of the floor.
She could almost see it, white net curtains billowing inward from the wind. Almost.
But even as she tried to focus, the dream began slithering away from her grasp in the manner of most dreams, vanishing faster the harder she tried to grasp it.
Forget it, she ordered. Go back to sleep. But she was awake now, too awake to slip under the covers. She fumbled for the clock on the bedside table. Three oclock. And she hadnt managed to drop off until sometime after midnight.
It was small wonder that shed entangled herself in a bad dream, after all that had happened. That suitcase. The photo.
Her throat thickened at that. She had a copy of that picture, too, always kept carefully out of Daddys sight because shed thought, with a childs logic, that it would make him sad.
She swung her legs off the bed, her bare feet encountering a braided rug. She might as well get up. Try to distract herself from the endless questions that circled in her thoughts.
But that was easier said than done. She switched on the lamp on the bedside table, and the room sprang into view. The Miller family apparently did without electricity over on their side, but provided it for their business. The logic of that escaped her.
The second floor guest room was plain and simple, with good, solid-wood furniture pieces and a comfortable padded rocking chair. The handmade quilt that covered the bed was such a work of art that she had folded it carefully and placed it atop the blanket chest before she did anything else. The room had seemed somehow familiar, as if shed slept here before, even though she knew she hadnt.
After such an unpromising start, the Millers had done their best to make her feel welcome and comfortable. Rhoda had scurried over immediately behind her husband to show Marisa the room, and a teenage girl had followed in a few minutes with a tray containing a mug of hot chocolate and a plate of oatmeal cookies.
But despite their welcome, she still couldnt feel at ease in their presence. Her grandmothers words seemed to rattle around in the back of her mind.
They wouldnt leave her alone. They didnt want to let her go.
If shed taken Link up on his offer, shed be pacing the floor in some anonymous motel room. But little though she liked to admit it, hed been right. If she was going to find out what happened to her mother, part of the answer must lie with the Amish people her mother had known here.
Not if. She would find out. She had to. Shed spent years trying to forget, trying to live without answers the way Dad seemed able to do, and she couldnt. Not when there was a hole the size of the Grand Canyon in her psyche echoing with the same whisper, over and over. Your mother didnt want you.
She forced herself to stop pacing. Gran would call these middle-of-the-night fears, treating them with a hot drink, a little comforting and the assurance that things would look better in the morning.
Gran might, as Link had hinted, have been prejudiced against the Amish, but she had devoted her life to taking care of Marisa, and shed been the most stable force in Marisas life. Shed been gone nearly two years now, and Marisa still missed her.
This line of thought wasnt helping, either. She might as well get out her drawing pad and look through the tentative sketches shed made. See what else she needed for the current project. Maybe, as shed told Jessica, shed be able to do some work while she was here.
She picked up the duffel bag Link had carried in, setting it atop the suitcase rack in front of the window, and unzipped it. The shriek of the zipper broke the silence.
The old house was quiettoo quiet. She wasnt used to this utter silence. Her townhouse in Baltimore was on a pleasant residential street, but even so, there was always noisethe distant thump of someones boom box, the sound of cars going past, the shouts of kids playing in the park across the street. Not so here.
Pad and pencil in hand, she paused, glancing out the window. She couldnt even see any other lights. Link had been rightthey did roll up the sidewalks.
Shed think that would seem natural to him. After all, he lived here, didnt he? He must She leaned close, shutting out the reflection from the bedside lamp with her hand. As her eyes adjusted to the faint moonlight, she could see the dark shadow beneath the huge weeping willow in the side yard. Had something moved?
A man-size shadow, moving out of the denser shadow of the willow, detaching itself as it took a step toward the house, the head seeming oddly misshapen until she realized it wore a black hat, the brim hiding the face. But he looked up, toward her window
She bolted back, flattening herself against the wall, heart pounding as if it would leap out of her chest. The figurea man, black clothes, black hair, a beard. Amish. Staring up at her window.
Memory stirred, someplace, sometime, she had looked out a window, had seen The memory slid away, as elusive as the dream had been.
She shook her head, trying to clear it. Had she really seen someone out on the lawn? Or was it a figment of her imagination, stirred up by the dream?
She wouldnt be a coward about it. She went quickly to the bedside table and switched off the lamp. In the dark, she could see without being seen.
She sidled to the window, grasped the edge of the curtain and peered around it cautiously.
The moon had come out from behind the clouds. It lit the side yardfaintly, but enough so that she could see. The lawn lay empty and unmarked, and nothing stood under the willow tree.
BREAKFAST WOULD BE served in a room at the rear of the first floor, Mrs. Miller had said. Marisa descended the stairs slowly. She had to find the approach that might make these people open up to her, but she hadnt managed to think of one.
BREAKFAST WOULD BE served in a room at the rear of the first floor, Mrs. Miller had said. Marisa descended the stairs slowly. She had to find the approach that might make these people open up to her, but she hadnt managed to think of one.
Lack of sleep had to be part of the problem. Shed already been tired, and then hadnt been able to settle after her sighting. Or her overactive imagination, whichever it was. Shed gotten up several times to peer cautiously out the window. Nothing.
But she still couldnt quite accept that shed produced that staring figure out of her imagination, which left herwhere, exactly?
She reached the downstairs hall. There was a closed door with a sign marked Private, which must lead to the Miller familys side of the house. The aroma of fresh baking led her in the right direction. A long, sunny room stretched across the width of the house in the back, with an open kitchen on her left, divided from a bright dining room on the right by a long counter. Rhoda Miller was pulling something from the oven while the daughter shed met briefly last night poured juice into glasses.
Good morning.
The pan Rhoda was lifting clattered onto the stove, as if the greeting had startled her.
I hope Im not too early, Marisa began, but Rhoda smiled, shaking her head.
Ach, no, not at all. We try to have everything ready by eight and its just that now. But Im happy to serve breakfast earlier if need be.
Eight oclock is fine. She stifled a yawn. Should she mention the person shed seen, or not?
You didnt sleep well? Rhoda gestured to a long wooden table flanked by spindle-back chairs. A pink geranium bloomed vibrantly in an earthenware pot in the center of the table, and African violets lined glass shelves in one of the windows.
Not the fault of the room, she said quickly. It was very comfortable. And this is lovely. You certainly have a gift with plants. She sat down, setting her bag on the floor and nodding when the daughterMary, she thought the name wasgestured with a coffeepot.
Ach, its nothing. I enjoy growing things already. But I am worried that you didnt sleep well. Was itwas there some noise to keep you awake?
Rhoda looked more concerned than seemed warranted. Was it only the feeling of any hostess, or did she know something about the man in the yard last night, assuming he actually existed?
More like the quiet, she said. Im used to city noises.
Was that relief on Rhodas face? I could never get used to that, thats certain-sure. She took a tray from her daughter. Here is fruit cup to start and fresh-squeezed juice. The berries are ones I put up this summer, so theyre near as gut as fresh.
Thank you. It looks lovely. She lifted a spoonful of huge blueberries, bigger than any shed seen in the store. I did wonder
Rhoda, turning away, seemed to freeze. Ja?
Was your husband out in the yard during the night?
She swung back around, her face closed. Why would you think that?
I thought I saw someone out in the side yard when I got up to get something. Out by the willow tree. Maybe your husband had occasion to check something there?
I did not.
The masculine voice startled her. Eli stood in the doorway, obviously having heard her. He moved into the kitchen, setting a pail he carried in the sink. Then he turned to face her.
There was no one there.
She had to force herself to go on. If you werent there, how do you know no one else was? Too bad she didnt have Eileen Davies, her agent, here. Eileen would have the man turned inside out in a matter of seconds.
There was no one. His face bore no expression at all.
Ach, what am I thinking? Rhoda hurried into the kitchen. The egg casserole is done. Komm. Sit. Its time to eat.
For a moment Marisa thought the man would turn and walk out. Then he came slowly to the table and pulled out the chair at the end. Mary put a basket of rolls and bread on the table and slid into her seat. Rhoda, carrying a steaming casserole dish with a towel, hurried to her place.
Marisa was reaching for a muffin when she realized that Eli had bowed his head, the others following suit. No words were spoken. After a moment he looked up, as did his wife and daughter.
How had they known he was finished with what she assumed was a silent blessing? Telepathy?
You will have some breakfast casserole? Rhoda asked, but before Marisa could respond she had put a giant, steaming serving on Marisas plate.
Thank you. Thats plenty, she added when Rhoda seemed about to give her more. It smells wonderful.
Chust eggs and cheese and sausage, Rhoda said.
Plates clattered as everyone was served. They began to eat, not talking. Apparently if there was going to be any conversation around the table, it would be up to her to start it. And maybe the only thing to do was to plunge right in.
Do you know why Im here in Springville?
Rhoda glanced at her husband, and then she nodded. Ja, we have heard about the suitcase Link Morgan found in his uncles house. Barbaras, it was.
She was taken aback for a moment. Shed expected some garbled story would be going around, but clearly they knew exactly what had happened. Someone in the police department must have been talking. Or someone in the Morgan family.
Barbara Angelo is my mother. Or was my mother. The not-knowing seized her in its grip, shaking her.
Ja. We heard that, too. Rhoda studied her for a moment, her round blue eyes curious. You look more like your father, but there is something of Barbara in your face, too.
Marisa found it difficult to tell the age of the Amish woman. With her brown hair pulled straight back from a center part and the lack of makeup, Rhoda might be as old as Marisas mother would be now or maybe younger.
You knew her, then.
Some silent communication passed between Rhoda and her husband, and she looked down at her plate.
We remember, Eli said. She came to visit the Zooks one summer. His mouth clamped shut on the words, as if hed said all he intended.
She needed to ask another question, but there was such a huge blank in her knowledge that she wasnt sure where to begin. Were they relatives of hers?
Ja, Rhoda said. Cousins. She came from Indiana, I think.
Another silence. Clearly they werent going to offer anything she didnt ask. A month ago shed have said she wasnt interested in how and why her mother came to Lancaster County, but now she realized that wouldnt have been true.
Had she been here before to visit?
We dont know much about it, Eli said before his wife could answer. If you want to know, you should talk to them. Not us.
A look at his stern, closed face was enough to convince her that he wouldnt tell her anything else. With the beard reaching to his chest, Eli looked like an Old Testament prophet.
He also looked like the man shed seen from her window. But what point could there be in his standing out there?
I can see that you dont want to be involved, she said carefully. I hoped maybe youd be willing to tell me what you remembered about my mother. Theres so much I dont understand.
Poor child, Rhoda said, her voice soft. Dont you remember her at all? She asked the question despite the wave of disapproval emanating from Elis end of the table.