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Authors: Mindy Starns Clark, Leslie Gould
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human eyes. If she’d drawn pictures of the people she knew, I could compare the eyes in those pictures with the eyes on the hen and maybe figure out who it represents.”
“I never noticed before, but now that I think about it, you’re right.” Mammi turned to look at me, her face considerably brighter than before. “You see? I knew you were the right person for this job. You’ll figure it out one way or another, won’t you?”
I nodded and smiled, though I was again discomfited at hearing a compliment from one of my own family members.
“I’m pretty determined to crack that code. Though in the end, you may be right, Mammi . It might take a trip out to the Home Place to do it.”
I was glad no one else was looking my way right then, or they would have wondered why my cheeks were flushed and my eyes downcast. I felt so guilty! Was I really going to do this? Was I really going to take advantage of an old woman desperate to learn some truth about her mother and use that to get closer to my boyfriend? I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, reminding myself that I also wanted to break the code. I reallywould love to see the Home Place for myself now that I’d read so much about it in Sarah’s journal.
Besides, for my big plan to work at all, several really important elements would need to fall into place first.
That job would have to be located within a reasonable distance of the Home Place.
Mammi would have to help me get permission from the current owners to come visit the Home Place.
I would have to figure out how to get there and where I would stay once I did.
My family would have to get over the realization that Ezra and I would be together again, despite their best efforts to keep us apart.
That was a lot of contingencies for somewhere I knew next to nothing about. Settling into the couch more comfortably, I decided to back up a few steps and do some information gathering before I got too carried away. In lieu of pen and paper, I pulled out my cell phone and opened a text to send to myself. Then I asked Mammi what I needed to know to get the ball rolling, just in case—the address of the Home Place, the name of the people who lived there, stuff like that, ready to type what she told me into the text.
Unfortunately, she didn’t have many specifics herself. She said the Home Place was located outside Nappanee, Indiana, which was apparently near the Michigan border. The best she could give me for an address was “Willow Lane,” though she had no house number.
As for who lived there now, she said the last she heard it was owned by her niece, Rosalee Neff, though the woman had been widowed at a young age and had probably remarried since then, in which case her last name wouldn’t be Neff anymore.
Frustrated, I pressed send and was about to give up completely when Mammi volunteered the single most important piece of information she’d given me yet.
“Of course, I feel sure the dairy farm next door to the Home Place is still owned by Neffs,” she said absently. “If Rosalee’s name has changed and we can’t find her in the phone book, we could contact them and see if they can connect us to her.”
I gasped and then covered it with a fake cough.
“So there’s a dairy farm right next door to the Home Place?” I asked, hoping I sounded at least somewhat nonchalant.
“Of course, dear. My dairy farm. I sold it after Malachi died and I decided the girls and I would move to Lancaster County to live with my brother.”
Sitting up, I turned toward her, my heart pounding. “I didn’t know the farm you owned with your husband was a dairy farm.”
“Oh, yes. My, that was a hard life. Back then we milked by hand. Your mother never told you about that? She sure milked her share of cows growing up.”
My mother hadn’t told me a single thing about Indiana. I shook my head as Aunt Klara stepped into the living room.
“Time to eat,” she called out to everyone.
Mammi started to struggle to
“I never noticed before, but now that I think about it, you’re right.” Mammi turned to look at me, her face considerably brighter than before. “You see? I knew you were the right person for this job. You’ll figure it out one way or another, won’t you?”
I nodded and smiled, though I was again discomfited at hearing a compliment from one of my own family members.
“I’m pretty determined to crack that code. Though in the end, you may be right, Mammi . It might take a trip out to the Home Place to do it.”
I was glad no one else was looking my way right then, or they would have wondered why my cheeks were flushed and my eyes downcast. I felt so guilty! Was I really going to do this? Was I really going to take advantage of an old woman desperate to learn some truth about her mother and use that to get closer to my boyfriend? I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, reminding myself that I also wanted to break the code. I reallywould love to see the Home Place for myself now that I’d read so much about it in Sarah’s journal.
Besides, for my big plan to work at all, several really important elements would need to fall into place first.
That job would have to be located within a reasonable distance of the Home Place.
Mammi would have to help me get permission from the current owners to come visit the Home Place.
I would have to figure out how to get there and where I would stay once I did.
My family would have to get over the realization that Ezra and I would be together again, despite their best efforts to keep us apart.
That was a lot of contingencies for somewhere I knew next to nothing about. Settling into the couch more comfortably, I decided to back up a few steps and do some information gathering before I got too carried away. In lieu of pen and paper, I pulled out my cell phone and opened a text to send to myself. Then I asked Mammi what I needed to know to get the ball rolling, just in case—the address of the Home Place, the name of the people who lived there, stuff like that, ready to type what she told me into the text.
Unfortunately, she didn’t have many specifics herself. She said the Home Place was located outside Nappanee, Indiana, which was apparently near the Michigan border. The best she could give me for an address was “Willow Lane,” though she had no house number.
As for who lived there now, she said the last she heard it was owned by her niece, Rosalee Neff, though the woman had been widowed at a young age and had probably remarried since then, in which case her last name wouldn’t be Neff anymore.
Frustrated, I pressed send and was about to give up completely when Mammi volunteered the single most important piece of information she’d given me yet.
“Of course, I feel sure the dairy farm next door to the Home Place is still owned by Neffs,” she said absently. “If Rosalee’s name has changed and we can’t find her in the phone book, we could contact them and see if they can connect us to her.”
I gasped and then covered it with a fake cough.
“So there’s a dairy farm right next door to the Home Place?” I asked, hoping I sounded at least somewhat nonchalant.
“Of course, dear. My dairy farm. I sold it after Malachi died and I decided the girls and I would move to Lancaster County to live with my brother.”
Sitting up, I turned toward her, my heart pounding. “I didn’t know the farm you owned with your husband was a dairy farm.”
“Oh, yes. My, that was a hard life. Back then we milked by hand. Your mother never told you about that? She sure milked her share of cows growing up.”
My mother hadn’t told me a single thing about Indiana. I shook my head as Aunt Klara stepped into the living room.
“Time to eat,” she called out to everyone.
Mammi started to struggle to
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