Lydia's Hope (16 page)

“Are you worrying about something then?”

She shook her head, a tiny frown creasing her forehead. “I was dreaming about the
orchard. I was a little girl, playing among the trees. My mamm was there, and she
laughed and swung me around. Susanna chased us, and the baby lay on a quilt in the
grass.”

“Happy thoughts,” he said gently, trying to understand.

“They’re not memories. Only dreams.” Her voice was choked. “I don’t remember. It seems
so wrong that I can’t remember my mother’s face. I’ll never know what she looked like.”

There was a world of sorrow in her voice, and he hadn’t a notion of how to comfort
her. “She was beautiful,” he said finally. “I know, because you are.”

“Ach, Adam, you always know what to say.” She gave a sound that seemed caught between
a laugh and a sob, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around her, wishing that were true. Instead, it seemed to him
that he almost never knew what to say, especially lately. He was like that boy he’d
been, so hesitant to speak that everyone else got there first.

Lydia stirred a little, turning her head to look into his face. “You didn’t say much
when Seth brought such good news.”

“You and Seth did enough talking for all of us.” He tried not to sound harsh, but
as far as he was concerned, Seth’s news hadn’t been that good. And he didn’t care
for Seth’s continuing presence in their lives. It seemed every day his Lydia was turning
to Seth for answers instead of him.

“I guess I was excited. I wish Chloe would come here, but meeting her in Oyersburg
is better than not seeing her at all, ja? Aren’t you happy for me, Adam?”

“If you’re happy, that’s gut.” He felt as if he were walking on eggs, trying not to
break them. But he couldn’t tell Lydia less than the truth. “Having my family involved
so much with an Englischer—well, I can’t say I’m pleased, because I’m not.”

And there they were, right back at the same argument again.

At least this time Lydia didn’t fly into anger right away. Instead she leaned back
against the windowsill, studying his face as if trying to understand.

“I know that your brother’s jumping the fence hurt you, but that’s no reason to turn
against the Englisch. It was Benjamin’s decision.”

Pain had a stranglehold on his throat. But somehow he had to tell Lydia the thing
he’d never told anyone.

“If I had been a better big bruder, maybe he wouldn’t have gone.” He shook his head,
caught in the memories. “I was sorry, once it was too late. I tried to find him.”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t know.”

“No one knew. I didn’t want Mamm and Daad to get their hopes up and then be disappointed.
But I was sure that if only I could find Benj, talk to him, I could convince him to
return.”

Lydia was still. Waiting and listening, her gaze fastened on his face.

“One of his friends finally told me enough that I could locate Benj. He was in Harrisburg,
so I went there. I took the bus.”

“I didn’t know you’d ever gone that far from home.”

“I didn’t want to. But I had to.” He shook his head. “It seemed hopeless at first,
but finally I found him.” Pain choked him, and he had to force the words out. “He
was living in an abandoned building. It was awful. Our pigs live in a palace compared
to that place. And the people—ragged, dirty, on drugs or alcohol.” He sucked in a
breath. “And my brother was one of them.”

Lydia gave a shocked, pained exclamation. “Adam, how awful for you. Why did you never
tell me?”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t tell anyone, not about seeing Benj like that. I tried
to get him to come home with me, but he just laughed at me. Said he’d found the life
he wanted, and I should leave him alone.” He blinked, because tears were coming and
he never wanted to cry in front of Lydia. “Two weeks later he was dead. A drug overdose,
the police told me, though I never told Mamm and Daad that. They think he died from
a fall.”

Lydia touched his face and then drew him close against her, stroking his back and
murmuring soothing words as if he were one of the boys. He held on, struggling to
regain control.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry. But I don’t see . . .” She let the sentence
trail off, as if she didn’t want to press on with it.

But he had to get all this said while he could. He clasped her shoulders, looking
into her face. “You would say that your sister is not like those Englischers, and
you are right. But don’t you see why it troubles me? For our boys to grow up with
an Englisch aunt, seeing that life, maybe thinking it is good—what will keep them
from ending up the way Benj did? I should have kept him safe, and I failed. I have
to protect our sons.”

“I know, I know.” She stroked his cheek. “You take such gut care of us, Adam. But
it will be all right. Really, it will.”

Her comforting touch soothed his sore heart, but it wasn’t enough. Lydia was going
to go through with this, and he couldn’t stop her.

* * *

Lydia
clucked to Gray, the buggy horse, and the mare started obediently up the lane to Mamm
and Daad’s farm. She hated feeling out of sorts with Mamm. Maybe today’s visit would
smooth things out between them.

Besides, she had to tell them about meeting with Chloe on Saturday. She couldn’t let
them hear it from someone else.

Mamm would be pleased about it, wouldn’t she? After all, the secret was out now, and
there was no putting it back. And Chloe, no matter how different she was because of
her Englisch upbringing, was Mamm and Daad’s blood kin just as much as she was.

Adam . . . well, Adam didn’t understand, and she ought not to blame him. His experience
with his brother had been so terrible—she could hardly imagine what it must have cost
Adam to see his little brother in that place. Just the fact that Adam had gone told
her how much it had meant to him. Harrisburg was less than two hours by bus, but to
Adam it had been a different world. Her heart ached for the pain he’d gone through—was
still going through. He’d never be done grieving for his brother.

Why had he never told her about finding Benjamin? It hurt that he hadn’t shared it
with her at the time, but it must have been before they’d started seeing each other
seriously. Poor Benjamin. And poor Adam, to carry such a burden for his little brother.

The lane, long and winding, finally drew up to the farmhouse and continued beyond
it to the barn and the outbuildings, where it finally petered out. It looked as if
Daad had taken advantage of the fine weather to disc the field already, and beyond
the old well Mamm’s rhubarb waved its fanlike leaves. Signs of spring, they were,
when everything came to life.

Gray stepped automatically to the hitching rail and stopped, waiting while Lydia climbed
down. She clipped a line to the harness, smiling a bit. She never used this hitching
rail without remembering Andrew, her four-years-younger brother, running smack into
it during a game of catch and knocking himself silly. She’d run to him, sure he’d
killed himself, and been so thankful to find him still alive that she’d given him
a good shake for scaring her that way.

What one of those boys didn’t think of to do to himself, another one did. Joshua had
fractured his arm falling out of the peach tree, and had broken a branch doing it,
while Matthew, the baby, had a scar to this day from falling out of the pony cart
while Joshua was driving it.

After patting Gray, she headed for the back door. Mamm was already opening it, her
smile warm and maybe a bit relieved. She wouldn’t have liked the strain between them
any more than Lydia did.

“Komm, Lydia. I’m wonderful glad to see you.” A warm hug accompanied the words. “Coffee
is hot, and I made apple dumplings this morning.”

“Sounds wonderful.” She wasn’t really hungry, but Mamm wouldn’t be happy unless she
ate. “Your rhubarb is coming along fast.”

“Ja, and the strawberries are close to blossoming. We’ll be eating fresh from the
garden before you know it.”

That was always a landmark in the seasons—the first day Mamm could make a meal with
something fresh from the garden. No matter how good something canned or store-bought
tasted, it didn’t compare to fresh.

“I was remembering the day Andrew ran headfirst into that hitching rail. Seems like
most of the things I remember about the boys were them hurting themselves.” Lydia
shed her bonnet and sweater and took her usual seat at the kitchen table, where Mamm
had already set a mug of coffee.

“Ja, they sure liked to have accidents.” Mamm brought her own coffee and the dumplings,
and sat down at the end of the table next to Lydia. “I hope your boys aren’t quite
as bad.”

“Not so far.” Lydia kept a pretty sharp eye on them, with her brothers’ examples in
her mind. She stirred sugar into her coffee. “All my memories of growing up are here.”

Mamm gave her a questioning look. “Ja, well, here is where you grew up.”

“I hardly remember asking or even wondering about my life before the hospital.” She
frowned down at the brew. “It seems funny now. You’d think I’d have been more curious.”

“We talked about it, your daad and me. We asked the doctors, too. They all said just
to answer any questions that you had but not to bring it up if you didn’t.” Mamm reached
out to touch Lydia’s hand. “You were such a busy, happy child. We were so relieved
to see it after all that time in the hospital.”

“I understand.” Lydia closed her fingers around Mamm’s hand, seeming to feel the love
flowing between them. She tried to imagine what it would be like to see her child
lying in the hospital for days on end, but her mind shied away from it. “I’m thinking
maybe kinder just accept what they know as natural. And you’re right. I was happy.”

Mamm nodded, looking relieved. If she took that to mean Lydia accepted what they’d
done, maybe that was for the best. No one could go back and undo the past.

Lydia glanced around the kitchen, searching for a change of subject. “Is Great-aunt
Sara resting?”

“Ach, no, she’s gone back to her own place.” Mamm looked exasperated. “We wanted her
to stay, but you know how she is, always so independent. I just hope she doesn’t do
too much and get down sick again.”

“She does like to be on her own.” Unusual for an Amish woman, who was usually surrounded
by family. But her great-aunt hadn’t had children, and maybe she’d gotten used to
being by herself. “I’ll stop by to see her in the next day or two. Maybe we can get
her to come out and have supper with us, or I’ll take supper to her.”

Mamm nodded. “I was sure you would.” She hesitated. “I think you came to talk about
something other than your great-aunt’s health or your daad’s garden, ja?”

Mamm always seemed to know her heart, Lydia reminded herself.

“Ja. I wanted you to hear it from me, not from anyone else. I have found Chloe, my
baby sister.” She held her breath, waiting for the response she was praying for.

C
HAPTER
T
EN

M
amm’s
eyes widened in surprise, but Lydia thought she read happiness there, as well. “Ach,
I would not have dreamed it could happen so quick. Where is she? How did you find
her?”

Mamm’s interest soothed Lydia’s heart. At least Mamm cared about finding Chloe.

“I talked to Seth Miller about it. He said it would be easy for him, and I guess it
was, because he found her right away. She uses the name Chloe Wentworth, and she lives
in Philadelphia.”

“The grandmother who took her would have changed her name, ain’t so?” Mamm’s expression
clouded. “Did you . . . Have you talked to her?”

Lydia shook her head. “Seth went to see her for me. She didn’t know anything about
her real family. He said she didn’t believe him at first.”

“Poor child.” Mamm was immediately sympathetic. “She must have been shocked. Like
you were.”

There was no argument there. Mamm understood, having seen Lydia’s reaction when she
found out.

“Seth gave me her address, so I wrote to her. I said how much I’d like to see her.
And I’m going to. She’s coming to Oyersburg on Saturday, and we will meet there.”

Mamm didn’t speak. Her face seemed to freeze, and Lydia’s heart sank. She’d thought,
given the sympathy Mamm had shown for Chloe, that she’d be glad.

“You don’t like it. You don’t want me to meet my sister.” Her throat went tight.

“Ach, Lydia, don’t be so hasty.” Mamm caught her hand, holding on when Lydia would
have pulled away. “I’m just . . . cautious. I wouldn’t want you to be hurt, or Chloe
either, ain’t so?”

“How could meeting each other hurt us? We’ve been separated for so long. I don’t understand
why no one is pleased.” She sounded a bit like David when he didn’t get his own way.
Maybe that was the danger in being back in the family kitchen again—she reverted to
being a child.

“Chloe has been raised Englisch,” Mamm reminded her. “By Mrs. Wentworth. From the
few things Diane said about her mother, I would guess that the woman can be . . .
difficult. Very prideful, so Diane said once.”

“That doesn’t mean Chloe is like her.”

“No. Maybe she is sweet and loving, like Diane was, like you are.” Mamm patted her
hand. “But does she know anything about Plain People? You know Englischers have funny
ideas about us sometimes. It doesn’t usually hurt us what they think, but it might
hurt you, if it’s your sister.”

Lydia took a breath, searching for calm. There was something in what Mamm said, and
she was saying it out of love.

“That could be true,” Lydia admitted. “But I cannot show Chloe who we are unless I
meet her.”

“Ja.” Mamm’s eyes were still clouded with worry. “What does Adam say?”

Lydia had to make a conscious effort not to stiffen. Naturally Mamm would think of
Adam’s opinion.

“Adam is worried about our meeting. I think he would be happier if I could just forget
about my sisters, but he knows that I can’t.” She looked down at the apple dumpling,
still untouched. “He fears the effect of the Englisch on his family, because of his
brother. You remember Benjamin.”

Mamm sighed. “Ja, I remember. He was different from Adam as it’s possible to be. I
think he’d have gone his own way whether he had Englisch friends or not. Willful,
he was.”

“Adam thinks he should have been able to save his brother from what happened to him
out among the Englisch.” It seemed she could still hear the pain echoing in his voice.

“It’s in Adam’s character to take on the burden of responsibility for his brother,”
Mamm said. “Just as it was in Benj’s character to jump the fence. You must be patient
with Adam, ja?”

“I try to be. But I won’t give up seeing my sister.”

Mamm shook her head, and Lydia sensed she’d given the wrong answer. She tried to swallow
the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to be at odds with her family or with Adam,
but whether anyone understood or not, she had to see Chloe.

* * *

Adam,
watching from the kitchen window, saw Ben Miller’s car turning into the lane late
Saturday morning. His stomach lurched. This was it. It was nearly time to leave for
the meeting with Lydia’s sister. They could have ridden with Seth, he supposed, but
Adam didn’t like being beholden to him.

He took his hat from the hook by the door. Lydia’s mamm had Daniel and David sitting
at the kitchen table, snacking on milk and oatmeal cookies. They both looked at him,
blue eyes wide, as if they sensed something out of the ordinary was going on.

Adam gave them a quick, reassuring smile. “Lydia? Ben Miller is coming. Are you ready?”

Lydia’s light steps sounded on the stairs, and she hurried into the kitchen. She had
changed her dress twice, and now she wore the green one. She’d been so fussed this
morning, as if it mattered to her sister what dress she had on.

“I’m ready.” Lydia dropped a kiss on each boy’s head. “You two listen to Grossmammi
and don’t get into any mischief. Daadi and I will be back in a few hours.”

David nodded and returned to dunking his cookie in his milk, but Daniel looked up
at her. “Will it be all right, Mammi?”

Lydia’s smile trembled a bit. “Ja, it will.” She moved quickly to the peg by the door
and took down her bonnet. “I’m ready.”

“Mind your grossmammi,” Adam said. He exchanged glances with Lydia’s mamm and then
followed Lydia out the door. Ben was pulling up by the time they reached the lane.

Lydia paused, her hand on the car door. Adam couldn’t see her expression because of
the brim of her bonnet, but her back was stiff with tension.

“If you would rather stay at home, I can manage by myself,” she said.

“I’m going,” he said, and reached past her to open the back door.

Not that he wasn’t tempted to stay home. But if Lydia insisted on pursuing this relationship
with her Englisch sister, he was going to be with her.

He settled himself in the seat next to Lydia, exchanging good mornings with Ben. Ben
seemed to glance at Lydia in the rearview mirror. Then his gaze met Adam’s, and he
started the car.

Ben was an old friend of the Amish, valued not only for the service he provided as
a taxi driver but also for his friendship. He could be relied on whatever the need,
and he wouldn’t gossip. Whatever he saw, heard, or guessed today, Ben wouldn’t spread
it around.

Ben’s discretion was one bright spot in this day. Adam glanced at Lydia, sitting very
straight with her hands clasped in her lap, her expression closed to him.

Would she be happier if he hadn’t come? He’d begun to wonder about that over the past
couple of days. A month ago he’d have said he could read his Lydia’s every thought
and emotion, but no longer. It was as if the unseen cord that connected them had begun
to fray.

Maybe their marriage had been too harmonious, too peaceful. Neither of them had been
prepared for so big a problem appearing so suddenly.

He spared an annoyed thought for Lydia’s daad. He hadn’t spoken of this to Joseph
Weaver, and he most likely wouldn’t, but surely it would have been better if Joseph
had confided in him about Lydia’s family when Adam had asked to marry her.

Ben glanced in the rearview mirror again, probably taking in their expressions, and
cleared his throat. Tactfully he began talking about the spring weather and its effect
on the growing season, a gentle murmur of conversation that didn’t require much in
response.

Adam nodded, spoke from time to time, and tried to pretend that Lydia wasn’t sitting
there like a statue, staring out the window and most likely seeing nothing of the
passing scenery.

An endless half hour later, the car turned onto the bridge over the river. “Almost
there,” Ben said with a hint of relief in his voice.

Lydia moved suddenly, reaching out to grab Adam’s hand. Hers was like a chunk of ice,
and he pressed it in his.

“What if I say the wrong thing?” Her eyes were wide and dark with fear. “What if she
doesn’t like me? What if she blames me for not finding her sooner? What—”

“Hush, Lydia, hush.” He patted her hand, trying to sound strong and sure, the way
she expected him to be. She was asking all the questions he had been thinking, but
it was too late now to reconsider.

“But . . .” Her gaze focused on his face, pleading for reassurance that he wished
he could give her.

“We won’t know how Chloe reacts until we see her.” He spoke in a low murmur of Pennsylvania
Dutch, not sure whether Ben knew enough to follow his words or not. “You have done
all you could. The rest of it is in God’s hands, ain’t so?”

Lydia nodded, her face relaxing just a little. “Ja,” she said. “It is in God’s hands.”

* * *

Chloe
arrived in Oyersburg early, pushed along by a powerful mix of apprehension and eagerness.
Unfortunately the closer she got to the meeting, the more apprehension seemed to be
winning.

Seth’s directions had seemed too simple, so she’d taken the precaution of setting
her GPS, but she actually drove into the park without incident. In comparison to the
sprawling suburbs of the city, Oyersburg seemed isolated, enclosed by the ridges that
ran along either side of the river valley.

The park lay along the river, probably a sensible use for land that might be subject
to flooding. Trees were beginning to leaf out, and a cheerful row of daffodils danced
in the breeze along the rail fence that surrounded the grass. Two teenagers played
what seemed to be an unpracticed game of tennis on the nearest court, and a pair of
young mothers pushed strollers along a jogging trail, talking as they went.

Chloe slid out of the car. She was early, but it seemed Seth was even earlier. He
was leaning against a late-model sedan, his face tilted toward the sun. At the sight
of her he pushed away from the car and came toward her, light touching glints of gold
in his hair.

“I see you made it.” He gave her a questioning smile. “No problems? No last-minute
jitters?”

“Certainly not,” she said quickly.

Seth gave a questioning look, and despite herself she had to smile.

“All right, maybe a little. What if Lydia doesn’t like me?” Chloe gestured to the
slacks and soft shirt she’d put on with a short denim jacket after searching her entire
wardrobe for something suitable. “I tried to dress conservatively, but nothing seemed
right.”

“You look fine.” Seth’s eyes seemed to warm as he looked at her. “I’ll bet Lydia is
wondering the same thing right about now.”

Irrational as it was, his words and the smile in his eyes seemed to take the edge
off her tension. She glanced around as if admiring the park, trying to get away from
the gaze that seemed to read her too well.

“Nice park,” she said. “Small, but nice.”

“It’s plenty big enough for a town of ten thousand, give or take a few. People here
are very proud of it, so I wouldn’t say anything derogatory in their hearing.”

“I said it was nice. That’s a compliment, isn’t it?”

His smile flickered. “Nobody ever takes the word
small
as a compliment.” He pointed across the river to the thickly wooded ridge that seemed
to shoot upward abruptly on the far side. “The park prevents people from building
too close to the river, among other things.”

She nodded, understanding what he meant. The ridge would funnel any high water right
toward the town. “Should we go? I don’t want to be late.”

“Sure thing. We may as well take my car.” He touched her arm as they moved toward
his sedan, and she felt his warmth through the sleeve of her jacket.

Focus,
she ordered herself.

He held the door while she got into the passenger seat, and Chloe watched from the
corner of her eye as he slid behind the steering wheel. Seth was a study in contradiction.
Even here, on what was presumably his home ground, he exuded the essence of cool,
urban professional. And yet he claimed to have grown up Amish.

He reached across to touch her hands, startling her. “Relax,” he coaxed. “It’s going
to be fine.”

She hadn’t realized she’d been gripping her hands so tightly that her knuckles were
white. She forced them to release. “Easy for you to say.” She tried to keep her tone
light. “You’re not meeting your sister for the first time.”

“No.” An emotion she couldn’t quite identify shadowed his eyes. “But my little sister
grew up while I was away. It’s been tough, trying to build some sort of relationship
with her.”

“I didn’t realize.” She tried to sort it out. “So if you were raised Amish, that means
your sister is Amish.”

“My whole family. I’m the only one who jumped the fence.” He darted a look at her,
as if measuring her reaction. “That means I left. In my case, when I was eighteen.”

“What happened?” The question was out before it occurred to her that he might not
want to answer. But if she knew what made someone leave, it might help her understand
why her mother had chosen to become Amish.

“Too long a story to get into now.” His sudden coolness dismissed the subject. So
he wasn’t willing to get into his personal life with her, despite that occasional
flare of something she felt sure was attraction. She couldn’t blame him. They’d been
thrown together by chance, knowing both too much and too little about each other.

Chloe turned to stare out the window. The tree-lined street that was perpendicular
to the river ran past homes, a few small businesses, and a pair of neo-Gothic churches
facing each other on opposite sides, followed shortly by a library and post office
doing the same.

Seth stopped at a traffic signal where the street widened into a square with a fountain
at its center. Along the curb, trucks and a few buggies were parked, and canvas canopies
bloomed like flowers along the walks.

“Market day,” Seth said, gesturing. “It’s not too busy now, but once the growing season
really gets going, it’ll be crowded with farmers and customers three days a week.”