Lydia's Hope (18 page)

Chloe’s indignation stilled, as if it could be muted by Lydia’s gentleness. Chloe
sat back, struggling with her response. It was all very well to accept that Lydia
was her sister, but this was a visceral sense of kinship that startled her.

Her rational mind rejected the thought. She and Lydia might share DNA, but they had
no memory of each other, they’d been raised in as opposite a way as could be imagined,
and they had nothing in common except the accident of birth.

Seth was watching her, his gaze so intent that she could almost feel it on her skin.
What more did he want from her? She was here, wasn’t she? She was trying, at least.

Chloe toyed with her food, trying to think of something to talk about that wouldn’t
point out all the differences between them. “Tell me more about your boys. Do they
look like you?”

Lydia’s expression relaxed in a smile. “I think they look like their daadi.” She glanced
at Adam, and for the first time his aloof expression seemed to warm.

“Not so much,” he said. “Daniel looks more like his mamm, but maybe he is like me
in other ways.”

Lydia nodded. “Ja, he is certain-sure like you. Serious and responsible, just like
you. And David—well, he is a little schnickelfritz.”

Before Chloe had time to look puzzled, Seth murmured in her ear. “Schnickelfritz is
a mischievous child.”

“You should know,” Lydia said, smiling. “That was you, for sure.” She turned back
to Chloe. “David is doing well with learning his Englisch. He’ll be able to talk with
you when he meets you.”

Chloe suspected that her confusion was written on her face. Once again, Seth stepped
in.

“Old Order Amish speak Pennsylvania Dutch in the home. The children learn English
when they go to school.”

Chloe felt as if she’d stepped into an alien world. “But . . .” Too many thoughts
were chasing around in her head, and she sorted out one. “How did our mother get along,
then, if she didn’t know the language?”

“From what my mother told me,” Seth said, “I understand Diane mastered Pennsylvania
Dutch quickly. Maybe she’d studied German in school. That would make it easier.” He
examined her face, maybe trying to decipher the mix of feelings written there. “Most
Amish speak English fluently, as well as the Low German dialect. And the hymns and
Scriptures are in High German. I’d guess not many other children learn three languages.”

Chloe had a feeling he was warning her to be careful what she said about the children’s
language. Not that she would say anything derogatory, of course, no matter what she
thought.

She glanced at Adam, sitting silent again after his mention of their sons. His face
was stern and closed, and the beard gave him the disapproving air of some Old Testament
figure. Lydia must see something in him that Chloe didn’t, since the look they’d exchanged
had been filled with affection.

Seth, maybe figuring they’d all sit there in silence and stare at each other if he
didn’t take a hand, began talking about the effect of the early spring weather on
the fruit trees Lydia and Adam grew. Lydia responded, Adam sat mute, and Chloe put
in a comment whenever she could think of something to say, which wasn’t often. What
did she know about horticulture?

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected of this meeting. Probably it would be wrong to
hope for too much. She and Lydia were strangers, after all.

Chloe glanced up, suddenly aware that they’d fallen quiet. All three of them were
looking at her. She’d been so absorbed in her own thoughts she’d missed something.

“Lydia wondered if there were any questions you wanted to ask about your mother,”
Seth said, a hint of amusement showing in the quirk of his lips.

“Yes, sorry. I’m afraid my thoughts were straying.” She met Lydia’s gaze. “You look
a bit like the pictures I’ve seen of our mother. Did you realize that?” Of course
all the photos had been of an upper-crust Philadelphia girl, but the resemblance was
there, in Lydia’s eyes and the curve of her chin.

“No, I didn’t know.” Lydia’s smile trembled, as if caught between joy and tears. “I
have never seen a picture.”

“My grandmother has some family albums. I could send you a photo of our mother. If
that would be all right.”

She added the last words, not sure what the Amish attitude would be. Still, maybe
her grandmother wasn’t all that different, even if her reasons were different. A person
could search the whole house without finding a picture of Diane displayed. Chloe had
only located the albums after a lengthy search.

Lydia nodded. “I think that will be all right.” She darted a glance at Adam, who exuded
disapproval like a fog. “Not to keep, just to see.”

It would probably take her a lifetime of study to figure out all the ins and outs
of Amish life, Chloe decided. But her mother had done it . . . not just figured it
out, but chosen it above the way she’d been brought up.

“They must have loved each other very much.” She realized she’d spoken the words aloud,
even though she hadn’t intended to.

But Lydia was nodding in agreement, understanding, her eyes misty. “Ja, they must
have been quite a pair, to risk everyone’s disapproval that way.”

Funny. She’d been thinking about what Diane had given up for love. It hadn’t even
occurred to her that Eli had given something up, as well.

“It would have been a hard choice for both of them,” Adam said unexpectedly. Then
he glanced rather pointedly at their dishes. “Ben will be coming to pick us up soon.”

“Ben said he would wait as long as we wanted,” Lydia said quickly. “We do not want
Chloe to rush away.”

“That’s all right.” It had been a good idea not to commit herself to anything more
than a lunch. This had been strained enough. “I do have a long drive.”

Seth rose. “Adam and I will go and take care of the checks. Let you two have a moment
alone.”

Adam hesitated, but at a look from Lydia, he followed Seth across the room toward
the counter. Lydia reached out to take Chloe’s hand.

“This has been a gut start, ja?” Lydia blinked, as if tears were forming. “A month
ago I could not have imagined finding a sister. Now, I don’t want to lose you again.”

“I’ll call,” Chloe said, and then shook her head. “I’m sorry. I forgot you don’t have
a phone. I’ll write. And I’ll send those pictures.”

“You’re sure your grandmother won’t mind?”

Her grandmother wouldn’t know they were missing. She had wiped Diane from the family
tree with a firm hand.

“No, she won’t mind.” Chloe stood, coming around the table to Lydia. “I’ll look forward
to your next letter.”

“Will you come to the farm for a visit? To see the boys, and the place where our parents
lived?”

Chloe’s stomach tightened, as if in protest at the idea. “I . . . I’ll think about
it. All right?”

“Ja.” Lydia’s voice was very soft. “That’s gut.”

Chloe stood, irresolute, torn between the longing to run back to the world she knew
and the challenge to build a bridge to her sister’s world. Then she stepped forward
and put her arms around Lydia.

Lydia’s hug was warm, and she murmured something softly in a language Chloe didn’t
know. But maybe she didn’t have to know to understand love.

Nothing about this new family relationship was going to be easy, but it was too late
to back away now. Now that she knew her sister, things could not be the same.

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

T
urning
from the cash register, Seth glanced back at the alcove. Chloe and Lydia stood facing
each other, and even as he watched, Chloe initiated a hug. So. It looked as if Chloe
wasn’t as impervious to her sister’s affection as she might want people to believe.
He realized Adam was watching, too, his jaw so tight that a muscle twitched.

“They’re sisters,” Seth said quietly. “That’s a natural response.”

“She’s Englisch. I don’t want Lydia to be hurt.”

Seth censored his immediate reaction. It would do no good to confront Adam, who’d
lost his brother to the English world. That made him wary.

“Knowing Lydia, I don’t think you can blame her for caring.”

“No. I do not blame her.” Adam’s tone made it clear who he blamed.

Lydia and Chloe were approaching, so Seth couldn’t respond. Just as well.

Seth hung back a step or two as they went outside, studying Chloe’s body language.
He couldn’t quite make her out. She had moments of responding very naturally to Lydia,
but then she’d put up her defensive barriers in an instant. Her grandmother had done
a good job of inculcating her own prejudices in Chloe, it seemed to him. And yet Chloe
showed her independence in the way she dressed—far more individual than the classic
preppy style her grandmother would undoubtedly prefer.

Ben’s car pulled up to the curb, final good-byes were said, and Chloe stood watching
as they pulled away. Her face revealed nothing at all.

Then she turned to Seth. “You can just drop me at my car. Thanks so much.”

He opened the passenger door for her. “Nice brush-off, but you may as well let me
take you to Susanna’s shop. I know where it is.”

Chloe stopped, halfway in the car, glaring at him. “What makes you think I’m going
to see Susanna?”

“Just a lucky guess.”

She slid into the seat without comment, and he closed the door.

Once he’d pulled out into traffic, he glanced at her. “Well?”

“Yes, I intend to see Susanna. I’m not leaving until I’ve seen both of my sisters.
You should understand. You’re the one who suggested this town as the meeting place.”
Her lips closed in a tight line.

He recognized stubborn when he saw it. And she was right—he had suggested Oyersburg,
convinced that Chloe would insist on seeing Susanna. But there was a lot more going
on behind that polished exterior. He’d like to see who Chloe was when she put down
those shields.

“You heard what Lydia said about Susanna and her mother’s illness. You can’t tell
Susanna the truth about your relationship, not now.”

A quick glance told him that she hadn’t received his words well.

Her chin tilted upward. “Much as I appreciate all you’ve done, I really don’t think
it’s up to you, Seth.”

“It’s not up to you, either,” he said bluntly. “Lydia has been to see Susanna, and
Lydia understands the situation far better than you could.” He’d rather make Chloe
angry with him than to let her stumble into making things worse for Susanna.

“I’m perfectly capable of understanding.” Chloe’s tone would freeze boiling water.
“Susanna’s adoptive mother is ill. But it doesn’t seem to have occurred to Lydia or
you that Susanna might welcome the knowledge that she has sisters who could support
her at a time like this.”

“She might,” he conceded. “Do you think Lydia hasn’t considered that aspect? But you
can’t tell her without the information having an effect on how Susanna relates to
the woman she thinks is her mother.”

“Not necessarily—” Chloe began, but he didn’t let her finish.

“It changed things for Lydia and her mamm, and Lydia already knew she was adopted.
And can you honestly say it didn’t put a strain on your relationship with your grandmother?”

Chloe was silent at his words, but he thought that shot had gone home. A good thing
if it had, because they’d arrived at the shop and he was out of time.

He pulled to the curb and nodded. “That’s it. I’ll go in with you.”

Chloe was already getting out of the car. She seemed to have gained control of her
temper, because she didn’t snap at him.

“So you think I need a chaperone?”

“No, but Susanna might.”

He walked beside Chloe as she went up the couple of steps to the small porch that
fronted Main Street. Chloe paused, her gaze moving from the creek across the road
to the row of two-story frame structures along the street.

“These look more like private homes than businesses.”

“Most of them were, at one time. The only buildings originally built as businesses
are in that three-block stretch of Main Street.” He nodded to where the street rose
up the hill and leveled off. “This area was once all residential, most of it built
around the turn of the century. The last century,” he added.

She nodded, opening the door. “It seems like a good location for a shop.” She stepped
inside and stopped again, looking around.

Seth, used to the small businesses that handled Amish-made items, tried to see the
place through Chloe’s eyes. Did she recognize the craftsmanship and artistry in the
quilted place mats and carved wooden toys? Susanna’s shop had the most extensive collection
he’d seen in the area.

Chloe moved to a counter and picked up a maple napkin holder that bore a colorful
hex design. “I thought the Amish didn’t use hex symbols.” Her tone was faintly challenging.

“Not for their own use,” he explained. He ran his finger along the smooth finish of
a cup holder. “But they’ll make things for sale to the Englisch that they wouldn’t
make for themselves.”

“Ja, that’s true enough.” A woman came out from behind the counter at the rear, obviously
having heard him. “I have one Amish lady who is making quilted covers for those tablet
computers.”

This must be Susanna. The age was right, and the woman had a certain resemblance to
Lydia in the shape of her face and the tilt of her head. She came toward them, limping
slightly, and Seth was sure. Lydia had said that Susanna had never fully recovered
from her injury.

He glanced at Chloe. Her full lips trembled just a bit before she pressed them firmly
together. She’d recognized Susanna, too.

“There’s no reason not to provide what folks want to buy,” he said, answering Susanna’s
comment and giving Chloe time to regain her composure. “You have a fine selection.”

“Denke.” Susanna tilted her head in acknowledgment.

“Is . . . Is everything handmade?” Chloe nearly had her voice under control.

“Just about.” Susanna glanced around, as if seeking something that hadn’t been. “Most
of it is made by Amish or Old Order Mennonites from the area. We also have a few pieces
from local artists.”

Chloe had moved on to the quilted work. She touched a table runner, and Susanna quickly
lifted it down and spread it out on the table.

“This is a design called Sunshine and Shadows. It’s usually used for bigger items,
like quilts, but one lady who quilts for us likes to adapt the design for smaller
pieces. She says everyone who comes in might not want to spend the money for a full-size
quilt.”

“Do you handle traditional quilts?” Chloe’s voice lifted with her interest.

Seth reminded himself that her museum had a collection of Pennsylvania folk art. She
probably knew more about the contents of Susanna’s shop than he did.

“Just a few. We don’t really have room for a lot of them.” Susanna sounded regretful.
“But if you’re interested in quilts, you might want to visit Katie’s Quilt Shop over
in Pleasant Valley. It’s only about a half hour’s drive, and she has a wonderful selection.”

The mention of Pleasant Valley startled him, but it was natural that Susanna would
know the other Amish shops in the area.

“Katie Brand,” he said. “She does have beautiful quilts.” In answer to Susanna’s questioning
look, he added, “I have relatives over that way, so I’ve seen it.”

Susanna nodded, satisfied. She’d shown no reaction in mentioning Pleasant Valley.
She couldn’t know that it had once been her home.

“This is such an interesting building,” Chloe said, gesturing toward the wide molding
that surrounded the doors and windows. “Do you live upstairs?”

Susanna shook her head. “Some of the buildings along the street have apartments on
the second floor, but we use it for storage. The basement can be damp, so we dare
not put stock there.” Then, as if feeling she hadn’t fully answered the question,
she added, “My mother and I live just up the street from here.”

Sorrow darkened her eyes at the mention of her mother. Seth recognized it, hoping
Chloe did as well. If she burst out with the information about Susanna’s parentage,
there was no way he could stop her, short of clapping his hand over her mouth and
dragging her out.

An older Amish woman came in just then, the bell over the door jingling. She smiled
and nodded to them and then spoke to Susanna in Pennsylvania Dutch.

“I can take over, if you’re needed at home.”

Susanna shook her head. “The hospice nurse is there with Mamm.”

Seth kept his face blank, trying to disguise the fact that he understood them. Hospice—that
didn’t sound very hopeful for Susanna’s mother.

Susanna’s smile was strained when she turned back to them. “Is there anything else
I can show you?”

“No, thanks.”

Chloe’s tone was muted, making Seth wonder if she’d pieced together the exchange between
Susanna and her friend. Susanna had used the English word
hospice
, dropping it into a rapid string of Pennsylvania Dutch as the Amish were prone to
do when there wasn’t a Pennsylvania Dutch equivalent for an English word.

“I’ll take the cup holder.” Chloe gestured with the one still in her hand. “And the
Sunshine and Shadows table runner.”

“Very gut.” Smiling, Susanna took the items and led the way to the counter. “I’ll
wrap them up for you.”

“And if you have a mailing list, I’d love to receive notices of any special events,”
Chloe said, opening her handbag and taking out a pen.

“Ja, of course.” Susanna indicated a clipboard and pencil on the counter. “We will
be happy to send you our flyers when they come out.”

Seth watched as Chloe wrote her name and address on the list. Was this a way of staying
in touch with her sister? Probably. But at least she hadn’t blurted out anything that
would upset the apple cart.

“There you are.” Transaction completed, Susanna handed her the bag and glanced down
at the list. “Chloe,” she repeated. “A pretty name.” A tiny frown formed between her
brows, as if the name reminded her of something.

“I was named after a childhood friend of my mother’s, I understand,” Chloe said. “And
your name?”

“Susanna. Susanna Bitler. I hope you’ll visit us again.”

“Thank you. I’m sure I will.” Chloe was looking at Susanna so intently that Seth’s
nerves pricked.

“Ready?” he said, his voice louder than he intended in the quiet shop.

“Yes.” Chloe didn’t look at him, just at Susanna. “Good-bye, Susanna.” She walked
out of the shop without a backward glance, and he followed quickly, trying not to
step on her heels in his haste to get her away.

Seth breathed a relieved sigh once they were clear of the shop and back in the car
again. It had gone as well as it could, he supposed. But there was still something
he should say.

“When Susanna and her partner were speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch, the partner asked
if Susanna needed to leave to take care of her mother. Susanna answered that the hospice
nurse was there.”

“I thought that was the word she used.” Chloe stared out at the creek across the street,
probably without seeing its gentle movement. “It sounds as if her mother is in bad
shape, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, making the turn carefully by the curb market. The vendors were shutting
down, and there was always a risk of someone backing into the street.

“I’m afraid so.”

“You understand the language then.”

“That’s what I spoke when I was part of the Amish community,” he said. “I didn’t know
much English until I started school, like Lydia’s kids.”

“Doesn’t that hamper them, not knowing English as their first language?” Chloe sounded
troubled, as if she were worried about the two nephews she hadn’t met.

“Not if they stay Amish.” That was the only honest answer he could give, and it applied
to a lot of things about being Amish. “The kids learn English quickly because they
hear it a lot, but Pennsylvania Dutch is the language of home.” The language of the
heart, he’d almost said.

He pulled up next to her car in the lot at the park. A group of kids were playing
soccer on the grassy field, and their shouts drifted through the air.

Chloe hadn’t moved, and he studied her face. She looked tired, her face drawn.

“Are you all right, Chloe?”

“Sure.” She seemed to collect herself, picking up her bag and reaching for the door
handle.

“You’ve had a stressful day. Maybe you shouldn’t drive clear back. There are plenty
of places to stay along the interstate.”

“I’m fine.” The sharpness in her voice denied the words. She shook her head, smiling
ruefully, and her expression warmed. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little hypersensitive right
now. I appreciate your concern. And everything you did to make this happen. I can
always stop if I start getting too tired, but I’m ready to be back in my familiar
surroundings.”

“You’re not sorry you came, are you?” He probed at the risk of making her annoyed
with him, but he wanted to understand her reaction. He was responsible for bringing
the sisters together, and if there was blame, it belonged on him.

She seemed to consider the question. “I . . . No, I’m not sorry. But it’s much more
complicated than I thought.”

“I know. When I offered to help Lydia find you, it seemed so simple. But I guess nothing
about families is simple.”

Now it was her turn to study him. “That sounds like experience talking.”