Heritage of Lancaster County 02 The Confession by Unknown Page B

been downright lucky--fortunate without
    trying, really--Katherine congratulated herself on getting an earful, the lowdown, on the Bennetts from an outsider's viewpoint. And all this without ever having to reveal that she was related to Mrs. Bennett.
    She slid down a bit in the seat behind the driver, craning her head around so she could see out the back window. Then, looking up through the glass, she spotted one star after another making its evening appearance.
    How many stars had she and Daniel Fisher counted in the sky over Hickory Hollow one long-ago evening? Two hundred or more, she remembered. But with the recollection came grievous pain, and she sat up, reaching for the handle on the guitar case, determined never to let anything
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    happen to the instrument that had brought Daniel so much joy. Forbidden, true, yet he'd kept it hidden away from the eyes of the bishop and his own father and mother, unlike her own blundering attempts to conceal her rebellion. How he'd managed all the years before his nineteenth birthday, Katherine didn't know. Yet he had, and because of the circumstances surrounding her shunning, she would never never part with the glorious stringed instrument. It belonged to her--now and forever.
    Daniel hadn't intended to flaunt his disobedience while they were courting--she was mighty sure of that. He had just done his best to follow the music in his heart. Nothing else seemed to matter much, not even the Ordnung, or what the church members set down as rules for living.
    That's just the way Dan Fisher was, all right. Stubborn and bright, all stirred up together into one fascinating, spirited human being. And on top of everything else, what a wonderful-good song maker he was!
    She glanced back up at the Big Dipper, thinking that her one true love would be mighty pleased with her quest to find Laura Bennett. Pleased enough to want to write a new song, maybe, if he were alive.
    Well, she'd be singing her own song about it soon enough. That was for sure and for certain.
    The butler thought it a grand idea to make small talk with Mrs. Bennett's newly found daughter as they ascended the staircase to the Tiffany Room, the finest guest room in the house. After all, here was the mistress's beloved child, in the flesh, come home for Christmas; no sense being stodgy about it. The girl ought to feel genuinely welcomed and accepted by all the members of the staff.
    "Is this your first visit to Canandaigua?" he asked the
    90 young Amishwoman with the lovely strawberry blond hair. "Yes, it is."
    "Well, I hope you'll enjoy your stay." Fulton carried her luggage into the room and set the pieces down near the large closet. "Help yourself to everything and anything. One of the maids will be up in a few minutes to check on your needs."
    "Denki."
    "That's Dutch, isn't it?" he asked, to make polite conversation.
    "Jah, for 'thank you.' "
    "Ah... so it is." He noted the newness of the suitcases, curious that they seemed entirely out of place with the rest of her Plain appearance. Without any further comment, he excused himself and left the room.
    It was the soft appearance of the woman's hands that caused Dylan's alarm. "Amishwomen use their hands for everything from chopping wood to scrubbing floors, or so I'm told. We must do something about these--roughen them up a bit," he suggested, still studyirig them. "Everything else is going so well, I'd hate for your hands to be our undoing."
    Alyson Cairns flirted playfully. "My boyfriend won't be very happy if he finds out about the older man in my life."
    Dylan stepped back, surveying her Amish getup. "Your young man will have you back in good time."
    Her sparkling eyes, devoid of the slightest hint of makeup, tantalized him. "So... when did you rush up here
    and hide away in the closet?" she asked.
    "Never mind that."
    "Lucky for you your fussy butler didn't decide to put away my suitcases." She eyed the closet door, slightly ajar. "Now, exactly when is my signature supposed