Lydia's Hope (14 page)

“Ja.” But he still looked a bit wary.

She had to tell them something. “It was nothing about you. Last week I found out something
that upset me, that’s all.”

It wasn’t all, of course. They’d never be content with that explanation. She began
to have an appreciation for how difficult it had been for Mamm and Daad to decide
what to tell her about the accident.

“You see, a long time ago, when I was only five, I was in an accident.” How could
she tell this without frightening them or making them worry that it might happen to
them? “We were on a trip, going to a wedding.”

Daniel, propped up on his elbow, nodded. “We know. Grossdaadi told us you got hurt
in a crash when your first daad and mamm died. He says that it made you not remember
anything from when you were little.”

She hadn’t known Daad had told them anything, but it sounded as if he’d done a calm,
matter-of-fact explanation.

“Well, that’s gut that you understand. You see, I found out something from that time
in my life I don’t remember, and it upset me.”

Daniel’s face screwed up as he tried to follow the explanation. “It must seem funny,
not to remember.”

“Most folks don’t remember a lot from when they were very little anyway,” Adam said,
his voice a reassuring bass rumble. “Mammi remembers the important things. Like you.”
He ruffled Daniel’s hair, making him grin and duck away.

“But what made you upset?” Daniel, ever persistent, went quickly back to the point.

She exchanged looks with Adam. He seemed resigned.

“Best they hear it from us, ain’t so?” he said.

She nodded. “I found out that I had two little sisters.” She tried to keep her voice
as calm as if she were talking about the weather. “After the accident we went to live
with different families. I went with Grossdaadi and Grossmammi, and they went with
other folks. So you see, I didn’t remember them.”

The boys digested that silently for a few moments, and she waited for the inevitable
questions.

“I don’t want that to happen to me.” David hurled himself against her, and she hugged
him tightly.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” she said firmly. “Something like that almost
never happens, and we trust God to take care of us, ja?”

“Are you sad not to remember them, Mammi?” Daniel probably thought himself too big
to require an immediate hug, but he leaned against Adam.

“Ja, that’s so. And I’m also sad not to know them now.”

“Why don’t you just go to see them?” Daniel said, as if surprised that answer hadn’t
occurred to her.

The truth of that was too complicated to explain, and again she looked at Adam.

“They live too far away,” he said firmly. “Maybe someday we’ll get to meet them, if
it’s God’s will.”

That, finally, seemed to settle it for the boys. It was probably best not to attempt
any further explanations unless and until they asked again. She rose, settling the
quilt around David again.

“Now, enough talking, I think. Time for dreams.”

But Daniel was slipping out of bed.

“Daniel, what are you doing?” Usually he was so obedient.

He dropped to his knees on the hooked rug her mother had made. “I’ll say another prayer,
Mammi. I’ll ask God to let you see your sisters.”

She stooped to kiss him, blinking back the tears that filled her eyes. “That is a
gut thought, Daniel. Denke.”

Adam switched off the lamp, but moonlight washed through the room, touching the kneeling
figure. She would not be able to hide the tears much longer, so she hurried out of
the room.

Adam followed her, closing the door with a soft click. He turned to look at her. “Are
you all right?”

“Ja.” She wiped away a tear with her fingers and then clasped his hand. They started
down the stairs. “I’m glad you helped me explain. Do you think they are all right
knowing that much?”

He nodded. “They are sensible boys. Don’t worry about them.”

“Ach, I can’t help doing the worrying. It comes with being a mammi, I think.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs. Lydia turned toward the kitchen and then turned
back, realizing she had forgotten something.

“Adam, I never asked you about your day. How did it go, the job hunting?”

He shrugged, his expression not changing. “Nothing yet, but maybe soon. I’ll find
something. You don’t need to worry about me, too.”

“I’m not worried.” Why would she be? Adam was the most reliable of men, and a gut
worker. He’d find something. “I know you’ll take care of us like you always do.”

He nodded. “Think I’ll do a bit in the workshop now.”

“I’ll finish up in the kitchen. Just tell me if you want some coffee.”

The workshop he’d built onto the back of the house was definitely Adam’s favorite
place. Working with wood was common enough among the Amish, but not many men had his
skill in building clocks. She glanced at the kitchen clock that had been a birthday
present from him two years ago. He was making another one now, apparently destined
for whoever in the family got married next.

Odd that neither of her sisters was married. Did Susanna feel that her limp prevented
her from marriage? Maybe someday they’d be able to talk about that, like any two sisters
surely would.

And Chloe, the unknown. The Englisch married later than the Amish, she knew that about
them. Maybe Chloe had someone in her life. Seth had said she wasn’t engaged or married,
but she might be seeing someone. Did she feel the lack of a big sister to give her
advice?

Trying to shake off the questions, Lydia concentrated on putting the dishes away.
Maybe she could have used some advice herself, when she thought of how she’d let the
children see her sadness. She longed to talk to Mamm about it, to listen to her wise
counsel, but things had been so strained between them that she couldn’t imagine bringing
it up.

With a last glance around the tidy kitchen, she went into the living room and settled
in her chair, picking up the mending basket. She surely didn’t lack for mending to
do, with two active boys.

Before Lydia had finished mending the rip in David’s best pants, she was distracted
by a light reflecting from the front windows. She laid aside the mending. Someone
was driving a car up the lane.

Going quickly to the kitchen, she called back to the workshop. “Adam? Someone is coming.”

The car had stopped by the back porch, and the interior lights came on for a moment,
letting her see that it was Seth. Her stomach tightened. She’d just begun to adjust
to the bad news he’d given her about Chloe, and now she’d have to relive it. Seth
would be feeling sorry he hadn’t made a success of the meeting with Chloe, and she’d
have to reassure him.

By the time she’d opened the door and ushered Seth into the kitchen, Adam had come
in from the workshop. He eyed Seth warily, it seemed to Lydia.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight, Seth.” She set the coffeepot on the stove and
got out the dried-apple pie she’d made earlier.

“I just got back, and I wanted to let you know what happened.” Seth looked more cheerful
than she’d expected after what he’d said on the telephone.

“Ja, you told me on the phone.” Her little sister wasn’t interested in her. Or she
didn’t believe in her, which came to the same thing.

“I know, but something happened after I called.” He took the cup she handed him, nodding
his thanks. “Chloe called me again later. She wanted to talk.”

“She did?” Dropping the knife she’d held poised over the pie, Lydia clasped her hands
together in what was close to a prayer. “What did she say? Did she believe you?”

Adam moved past her, pouring coffee for himself and sitting down, his movements deliberate.
He watched Seth, his expression giving no clue to his thoughts.

“Apparently she had followed through on the materials I left with her,” Seth said.
“She confronted her grandmother, and the grandmother admitted the story was true.”

“What did she want from you, then?” Adam asked.

Seth’s gaze flickered from Adam to her. “More information, basically. She wanted to
know what I knew about her sisters. She didn’t know, of course, about your loss of
memory, and all she knew about your parents was what her grandmother had told her.”

He hesitated, and Lydia found herself tensing as if she were preparing for a blow.

“What is it? Something bad?” Seth never had been very good at hiding his feelings
from her.

“The grandmother apparently is very prejudiced about the Amish. She blames the faith
for luring her daughter away.”

“But . . . that’s foolishness. Diane fell in love with my father, that’s why she wanted
to become Amish.”

“I understand that, but as I say, Chloe only knows what her grandmother has told her.
At least now she’s questioning what her grandmother said about your parents. I told
her what I knew about them, and also about you and Adam and the children.”

Lydia nodded, trying to absorb everything. “Did you ask her about coming to visit
me? What did she say?”

Seth shook his head, his lips pressing together. “I’m sorry, Lydia. She wasn’t willing
to come here, even though I told her that the answers she wants are here.”

“But . . . you mean she just wants to forget?” She hadn’t been able to tell Susanna,
and that still grieved her. She’d thought that surely, once Chloe knew, it would be
only a short step to their meeting.

Adam cleared his throat. “Maybe it’s for the best. If the woman has bad feelings toward
the Amish—”

“Don’t call her ‘the woman,’” Lydia snapped, her temper flaring. “She is my sister.
Surely she only needs to meet us and she’ll understand the truth.”

“You heard Seth. She’s not willing to, and there’s nothing else you can do. You must
let it go, Lydia.”

“I can’t.” Why didn’t he see that about her? She had always thought she and Adam understood
each other so completely, but on this subject, Adam seemed to have a blind spot.

“There is one thing you could do.” Seth had turned wary, but he slid a piece of paper
across the table to her. “There is her address. You can write to her, at least.”

She took up the slip of paper, not looking at Adam. “Denke, Seth. I appreciate all
you’ve done.”

He nodded. “I wish it could have been more.” He pushed his chair back, rising. “I’ll
be on my way, then. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

Lydia nodded, feeling the power of Adam’s disapproval flowing right across the table
at her. “I will. Denke.”

She walked him to the door and stood there until he’d gotten into his car. Then she
turned back to Adam. The width of the kitchen separated them, and something more,
as well.

“I thought you understood how important this is to me.” She threw the words at him.

His chair scraped the floor as he stood. “Ja, I know. But I think it is a mistake
to get too close to the Englisch.”

“Which Englisch? Seth? My sister? Or are you talking about my mother?” She’d never
felt so distant from him. “My own mother was Englisch, remember?”

“I know. If she were not, we wouldn’t be in this situation.” He shook his head, looking
stubborn and frustrated at the same time. Then he stalked back to the workshop and
closed the door.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

C
hloe
had expected that as the days passed, the revelation about her sisters would cease
to shake the foundations of her life. Unfortunately, it had been nearly a week, and
she still felt edgy and distracted. The letter she’d received from Lydia the previous
day just confused her more.

Chloe should be concentrating on her proposal for expanding their educational outreach.
Bringing in children and families could also bring new life to this staid old place.
But the museum director was less than enthusiastic about the subject, so unless she
could wow a sponsor, the project would die an early death.

But instead of focusing on the language that would sway a potential donor, her thoughts
kept replaying her conversations with Seth Miller.

Conversation or confrontation? The man seemed to challenge her at every turn. He clearly
thought he knew exactly what she should do. As did her grandmother, although their
solutions were diametrically opposed.

It was her life. Her decision. Nobody seemed willing to grant that fact.

Giving in to the urge, she clicked out of the proposal folder and opened the one marked
Ancestry. Anyone glancing through her files would assume from the title it was something
connected with her work at the museum.

Not that anyone else should be accessing her computer, but a museum was just like
any other institution, staffed by people who were short on funds and long on ambition,
some of them. Infighting was a fact of life.

The folder held everything she now knew about her parents and siblings—what Seth had
told her, what her grandmother had said, and the fruits of her own research. Even
so, it was pitifully small.

Chloe frowned at the screen. Dozens of questions crowded her mind—questions she should
have asked Seth Miller when she’d had the chance. Intent on persuading her to agree
with his plans, he’d certainly have told her anything he knew. She’d let the opportunity
slip away, partly because she was still in shock, partly because Seth himself kept
distracting her from the matter at hand.

Chloe still hadn’t wrapped her mind around the fact that Seth had been raised Amish.
He looked so . . . normal. The fact explained how he’d come to know so much about
her parents, but it raised another set of questions. Why had he left? How did that
factor into his motivation in helping Lydia?

She could call Seth. She had his number. She almost reached for the phone, raising
an image in her mind of his strong face, of the unexpected laughter in his eyes.

A rap on the office door deferred the decision, somewhat to her relief. “Come in.”

The door swung open. Brad Maitland hesitated in the doorway, eyebrows lifting. “Am
I interrupting something important?”

“Not at all. Come in.” She managed a smile at the family friend, even while she wondered
what had brought him here. “Just let me save my work and close it.”

Not that she didn’t enjoy seeing Brad or, to give him his full title, Bradley Jefferson
Maitland, MD, PhD, and, goodness knows what other letters might come after his name.
With his tall, lanky frame, his slightly thinning fair hair, narrow well-bred face
and oversized glasses, he looked like what he was, a highly successful psychiatrist
and member of Philadelphia’s elite.

She’d known Brad all her life, and he’d filled the role of honorary uncle perfectly.
If his advice always seemed to tally with her grandmother’s wishes—well, that was
only normal, she supposed. Her grandmother had probably enlisted him for the role,
since Chloe had no other uncles.

Or did she? The thought startled her, bringing an image of a cluster of relatives
she’d never imagined. She shook off the thought.

“It’s nice to see you, Brad. What brings you to the museum, of all places?”

“I happened to be in the area, and I thought perhaps I could persuade you to have
lunch with me.”

She raised an eyebrow at that comment. Brad never just happened to be anywhere. His
entire life ran on a precise schedule, and any deviation, no matter how necessary,
was apt to bring a slightly pained expression to his face.

“I wish I could.” She spared a moment’s regret for the no doubt excellent lunch Brad
would have provided. “But I’m tied up with work, so it will be a sandwich at my desk
today, I’m afraid.”

“That’s a shame. Another time, then.” He moved slightly as if to get a better look
at her computer screen. “Museum work or personal?”

There was nothing judgmental in his tone, but Chloe found herself bristling anyway.

“I suppose my grandmother has been talking with you.”

“Margaret and I often speak.” He wore the look of patient waiting that so often caused
her to tell him more than she wanted.

“About me.” She made it a challenge.

“She worries about you. That’s understandable, isn’t it? You’re her only family.”

“Not quite true.” Her temper slipped a bit, despite her determination not to quarrel
with Brad. “If you’ve spoken with Gran, you know that she has two other granddaughters
she’s chosen to keep secret from me.”

He leaned against the desk, his gaze on her face. “Why do you suppose that is?”

“Because—” Chloe nearly bit her tongue in an effort not to answer. She understood
the technique Brad employed. He was attempting to get her to put herself in her grandmother’s
place. He’d done the same, she remembered, when she was eighteen and wanted to celebrate
her high school graduation by going backpacking in Europe.

“Yes?” Brad prompted.

“I appreciate the effort, but I’m not interested in any counseling today, thanks.
Gran and I will have to work this out ourselves.”

That might be unfair to Brad, who would say he had her best interests at heart, but
she didn’t like the sense that he’d been conspiring with her grandmother behind her
back.

“Of course.” He nodded, as if accepting defeat. “It’s natural to be upset after learning
that you have siblings. I simply thought you might appreciate an unbiased eye on the
matter.”

“Thanks anyway.” She glanced toward her computer, hoping he’d take the hint. Whatever
Brad might tell himself, he wasn’t truly unbiased, any more than Seth was. Brad stood
firmly for the status quo, while Seth challenged her in uncomfortable ways.

“I’ll see you on Friday evening, then.” Brad headed for the door, leaving her frowning.

“Friday?”

“The charity dinner-dance, remember? I’m escorting you and your grandmother.”

At Gran’s instigation, no doubt. “I’m not sure I’ll be going.”

The glare she sent his way was intended to express her displeasure at having her social
life arranged for her. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to faze Brad. He simply smiled.

“Of course. Whatever you decide. You know I always enjoy your company.” He was calm,
as if she were a rebellious teen instead of a grown woman who could make her own decisions
and her own mistakes.

She sat staring at the door he closed behind him, wondering why Brad was willing to
let himself be manipulated by her grandmother into interceding. That was a pattern
they’d fallen into long ago, she supposed.

With a perfunctory knock, Kendra burst in. “I almost broke in on you and Dr. Dull
a couple of minutes ago. I was afraid you were going to fall for that I’m-only-interested-in-your-welfare
act he does so well.”

“Listening at the door?” Chloe shook her head in mock despair. “What next?”

“You should be glad I’m nosy. Keeps you on your toes.” Kendra handed her a cold bottle
of iced tea and uncapped her own, plopping into the folding chair next to the desk.
“I missed some of what was said. Dr. Dull was using his soothing voice, darn him.
What did he want?”

“I wish you wouldn’t call him that.” Chloe’s protest was halfhearted. Face it, Brad
was
dull, if by that you meant predictable, steady, never changing. “He’s a fine person
and a family friend.”

“You mean he’s a good therapist. Just bear in mind he puts your grandmother’s interests
first.”

“I suppose my grandmother did put Brad up to coming. She thought he’d convince me . . .”

“To convince you what?” Kendra prompted when she let that trail off.

Chloe held the cold bottle against her forehead for a moment, as if she could freeze
out the tumble of thoughts and doubts. “My grandmother thinks I should accept the
fact that my sisters are lost to me and move on. She claimed she wasn’t able to gain
custody of the other two.”

Kendra tilted her head, considering. “I can’t see your grandmother failing if that
was what she really wanted to do. I mean, really—pitting the Wentworth money and influence
against a couple of uneducated Amish farmers? It wouldn’t even be a contest.”

“No.” That was what she’d been thinking, but Kendra had voiced it clearly. “If she’d
wanted the other two, she’d have had them. She finally admitted as much. She claimed
they were old enough to have already been too influenced by the Amish, but really,
they were only five and three. They’d have forgotten that life in months if she’d
gained custody.”

“She didn’t want a whole family,” Kendra said. “She just wanted to replace the daughter
she’d lost. You were hardly more than a baby, so she could mold you into the person
she wanted you to be. Or at least, she thought she could, discounting other external
influences.” Kendra grinned, clearly numbering herself among those influences.

Guilt stirred in Chloe. She shouldn’t be talking this way about her grandmother. “Gran
loves me. And it’s true that she was terribly hurt when her daughter ran away.”

Kendra shrugged. “There’s a difference between running away and choosing your own
life. Which was it?”

“I don’t know.” That numbered chief among the many things she didn’t know, and Chloe
could only be stunned at herself. “Why didn’t I ask questions? Am I really that complacent?”

“Maybe.” Kendra grimaced. “And maybe you shouldn’t take my word for it. I was born
a rebel, but then, I had to be. You still have a chance to find out, don’t you?”

“I guess.” Chloe reached into her bag and pulled out the letter she’d been carrying
around for the past two days. “My sister Lydia wrote to me.”

Kendra leaned forward. “What does she say?”

“Read it for yourself.” She gave the envelope to Kendra. “I’d like to know what you
think.”

Kendra held it for a moment. “What did your grandmother say about it?”

“She doesn’t know.” Chloe threw up her hands. “All right, I’m a chicken. I just didn’t
want to get into another fight. We’re both tiptoeing around each other, being excruciatingly
polite.”

“Cluck, cluck.” Kendra laughed and unfolded the letter.

Chloe didn’t need to have the letter in front of her to know what it said. She’d read
it so many times she’d practically memorized it.

She’d had the sense that Lydia had written carefully, maybe judging the effect of
every word. She was probably as apprehensive about this situation as Chloe was.

What had come through to Chloe on the pages was an image of a woman devoted to the
two little boys she described, a woman shocked at the discovery of two sisters she’d
never known she had, a woman longing to build a bridge between their lives. Nothing
in the short letter seemed off-key or opportunistic.

Lydia had ended with an invitation to come to Pleasant Valley for a visit.
Your sister, Lydia.
Those final words were punctuated by a tiny bubble on the inexpensive tablet paper,
as if Lydia had dropped a tear just there.

Kendra folded the letter, slid it into the envelope, and handed it back. “She sounds
nice. Not well-educated or sophisticated, just nice. So why are you carrying the letter
around instead of answering it?”

Chloe knew what Kendra would have done in her place, but she wasn’t Kendra. “I’m not
sure it’s a good idea to start a relationship with her. We’re so completely different.
I can’t begin to understand why she wants to live the way she does, and I doubt she’d
ever understand my life.”

Kendra shrugged. “You might be underestimating her. Even the Amish can’t be totally
disconnected from the modern world, I’ll bet. What’s the harm in writing? Or even
in going to visit?”

“None, I guess. But I can’t forget that my mother probably wouldn’t have died if she
hadn’t joined those people.”

“Is that according to your grandmother?” Kendra inquired. “Listen, bad things happen
to people every day. You could walk outside and get hit by a drunk driver. I admit,
I don’t get why your mother walked away from a life of privilege to ride in buggies
and hang her clothes on a line to dry, but it was her decision. If you really want
to understand it, you’ll have to go there. You know that as well as I do. So what’s
holding you back?”

Chloe smiled ruefully. “Does the word
chicken
come to mind?”

“Even chickens can fly, so I’ve heard,” Kendra said.

“Right.” Chloe took a deep breath. “So I guess I’ll be making a trip sometime soon.”

* * *

Chloe’s
first impulse was to call Seth immediately, but she denied it. It would be far better
to be prepared for the conversation, ready to suggest a day and a place to meet.

Resorting to the computer again, she looked up maps of the area. There were several
larger towns in the vicinity of Pleasant Valley. Bearing in mind Seth’s comments about
the difficulties the Amish faced in traveling long distances, she narrowed the choices
to Lewisburg, Oyersburg, and possibly Mifflinburg. She’d have to ask Seth which would
work best.

She could drive to the area on Friday and book a motel room. That would get her out
of the dinner-dance on Friday evening very neatly.

Tempting, but she knew Gran would be disappointed if she didn’t go with her. Since
she was going to be upsetting her grandmother in one rather large way, she may as
well try to please her in this small one.

Chloe picked up the cell phone and punched in Seth’s number. Would he be available?
Surely the man must work sometimes.