Heritage of Lancaster County 02 The Confession Read Online Free PDF Page A

operator discourage her.
    "There are fifteen Bennetts listed. Is there a first name?" the operator asked.
    "Please try Laura Mayfield-Bennett. It might be under that name."
    Almost instantly, the woman said, "I'm sorry, there's no
    such listing."
    "Oh..."
    "Would you like to try another?" came the wooden voice.
    "No, thank you, but could you give me the phone numbers for those fifteen Bennetts?"
    "I am authorized to give only one listing per call." Only one? Katherine's heart sank. "But it's an emergency. Someone's dying ... someone ... uh, it's my real mother, she's dying.., and I hafta find her."
    "I'm very sorry, miss. You may continue to call back, however, if you wish to try all the numbers for that listing."
    Katherine resigned herself to the way things must be done. After all, hadn't she always followed the most rigid rules in dress, in word, and in deed since toddlerhood? Why not go along with one more?
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    The operator gave her the first name--Arthur O. Ben- nett--and the number.
    "Thank you," Katherine said and hung up.
    Then, fingers trembling, she began to dial, remembering to include the area code.
    Such a life these modems have, she thought. On the other hand, she was still getting used to the simplest of conveniences.
    Last evening, before retiring, she'd discussed her plans with Lydia and Peter, asking permission to use their telephone again. They had agreed to let her reimburse them for the long-distance calls when the monthly bill arrived. It would take quite a bit of her money, but Katherine thought it cheaper than hiring a private detective. Letting her call long distance like this was one of the nicest things anyone had done for her lately.
    She heard the phone on the other end ringing in her ear. Once... twice.., a third ring.
    Then--"Hello?" a strange voice said.
    "Ah . . . I . . . could I speak to Laura Mayfield-Bennett, please?" Her knees were shaking along with her voice.
    "Well, I think you may have the wrong number," the voice replied.
    "Oh, sorry." Quickly, she hung up.
    Not to be discouraged, Katherine picked up a pencil and drew a single neat line through the name. "I'll just try the next one," she said, as though saying the words out loud might give her a bit more confidence.
    But she hesitated, staring at the telephone. She thought of Cousin Lydia's kind suggestion of asking the Lord for guidance. Maybe she oughta get up the nerve to do it. Or ask Cousin Peter before she tried.
    When she finally redialed the Canandaigua operator, someone new was on the line, and she had to go through the whole rigmarole again.
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    This time the name given was a Clifford M. Bennett. She dialed the new number. The phone rang and rang--ten times at least--before she halted it by hanging up. So she made a tiny question mark beside that name and repeated the process.
    Next... Dylan D. Bennett.
    Quickly, she cleared her throat and took a deep breath, trying to look on the bright side of things. Using the phone like this was a very good thing for her to be doing, she thought. Good practice.
    But she wasn't prepared to have someone answer, not immediately on the first ring. "The Bennett estate," a confident female voice answered. "How may I direct your call?"
    Suddenly, Katherine felt ill at ease. Her mouth went dry, and she was caught completely off guard, hearing a woman answer the phone this way. She almost wondered if she'd gotten hold of her natural mother by sheer luck!
    "Is Laura Mayfield-Bennett at home, please?" she managed.
    "I'm sorry, Mrs. Bennett is not available' at the moment. May I help you?"
    Katherine felt her heart racing and sat down quickly. Oh my, now what? she wondered. This woman talking to her on the other end of the line . . . this woman holding the telephone receiver up there in New York somewhere . . . she was saying, in so many words, that Laura Mayfield-Ben-
    nett--her mother, her real mother--lived there.
    The Bennett estate ....
    "Miss? Is there someone else you wish to speak to?" "Oh,