Lydia's Hope (27 page)

“She does,” he agreed, not that he would have expected anything else.

Lydia read her way rapidly down the sheet. “She tells a bit about her family, and
asks about Susanna and Chloe. And then she says, ‘I was troubled by the question you
asked about whether your mamm wanted to leave the church. I think the best answer
is in your own mamm’s words, so I enclose the last letter she wrote to me.’”

Lydia fumbled with the sheets of paper, and Adam discovered that his heart seemed
to be thudding in his ears. He wanted, so much, for this to be an answer that would
make his Lydia happy again.

“Here it is.” Lydia’s voice shook a little. “It looks as if my mother wrote to her
in anticipation of seeing her on their trip. Adam, it’s almost like hearing her voice.
She says, ‘I’m so excited to see you again. Eli was afraid the trip might be too much
for me with the baby only a year old, but I persuaded him we’d all enjoy it, and I
really want you to meet our three precious girls. When I had that postnatal depression
after little Chloe was born, I felt as if I were at the bottom of a deep, dark well.
But thanks to Eli’s love and patience, the help of the family here, and a good doctor,
I’m back to normal. I’ve never been so contented in my life, and I pray my daughters
will know the happiness I’ve found.”

Lydia’s voice choked on the final words, and he realized she was weeping.

He put his hand on her shoulder, his worry escalating. “I thought you would be happy
to have your worries resolved.”

“I am.” Her lips trembled on a smile through her tears. “It is just so . . . so touching
to hear her happiness and know that a few weeks later she would be gone.” Lydia straightened,
wiping her tears with the back of her hands. “But she and her Eli were together, ja?”

“Ja.” Adam’s fingers smoothed gently, patting her shoulder. He should mention Chloe,
he knew. He should say something to show that he didn’t bear Chloe any ill will, despite
what had happened.

He cleared his throat. “You will send the letter to Chloe, ain’t so?”

To his surprise, she hesitated. “I don’t know.” She smoothed the pages out on the
table, her touch gentle. “I don’t know if I want to part with it.”

He frowned, not sure he understood what she was thinking. “You could send a copy.
I just meant that you’d want Chloe to see it. Maybe it would make it easier for her
to accept what her mother did.”

“Maybe.” Lydia sounded doubtful. “I thought I understood what Chloe wanted when she
came here, but I fear I was wrong. Maybe, instead of wanting to see how her mother
lived, she really hoped to prove that her mother wanted to leave.”

He digested that, thinking it might well be true. “Even so, she maybe has a right
to know what you found out.”

Lydia didn’t answer, which in his experience meant she didn’t agree with him. Should
he press the point? It seemed they had changed places in regard to her sister.

Before he could decide, a blast of wind sent a small branch flying against the window,
where it clung for a moment before blowing on. A clap of thunder, closer now, punctuated
it.

Adam spun and headed for the door. “Where are the boys?”

“In the barn.” Lydia came hurrying after him. “I’ll get them.”

* * *

The
heavens opened when Lydia was halfway to the barn, and by the time she plunged through
the open door, she was soaked. She should have taken time to grab a jacket on her
way out, but her thoughts had been on the boys.

They stood well away from the door, their eyes wide in the flash of the lightning.
Daniel held on to David, as if to prevent him from rushing out into the storm.

“Ach, you are safe and dry, and I’m all wet.” She held out her arms, and they rushed
to her. David buried his face in her skirt.

“I’m sorry, Mammi. We should have come in sooner. By the time we saw how dark it was
getting, I thought it was too late,” Daniel said, taking responsibility.

“You did exactly the right thing.” She cupped Daniel’s face in her hand, raising her
voice to speak above the pounding of the rain on the barn roof. “We’re as safe here
as in the house. We’ll just wait until the storm passes, ja?”

They both nodded, and David was reassured enough by her calm words to release his
grip on her skirt. “Where’s Daadi?” he said, worry wrinkling his forehead.

“It’s all right. He’s getting the animals. You stay back from the door while I check
and see if he needs help.”

One step out the door was enough to drench her again. She spotted Adam coming, leading
the two buggy horses by the halter. They danced and skittered with every lightning
flash.

The cows, far more sensible, plodded quickly toward the barn. They would come in with
or without help, she expected.

“Boys, open the stall doors for the horses. I’ll help Daadi.”

She was so wet a little more couldn’t matter. She sloshed toward Adam, not heeding
the jerk of his head telling her to stay put.

“You didn’t need to—” he began.

“I was already soaked.” She grasped Gray’s halter, letting Adam deal with the more
fractious Callie. “Komm, foolish beasts. The cows will be there before you.”

Gray, finally getting the message, began to trot, and Callie followed suit. Clinging
on to the halter, Lydia let the horse tow her along, the wind whipping Gray’s mane
in her face. The rain pelted down so hard she could barely see a yard in front of
her, and the lightning was so close there was barely a discernible pause between the
flash and the peal of thunder. She glanced at Adam, running beside the other horse.

He grinned, his face suddenly boyish despite his beard. And her heart seemed to turn
over the way it used to when she saw him coming.

“You look wetter than the animals, Lydia Beachy,” he said, chuckling a little.

“Not as wet as you,” she responded, relieved to find something to relax and laugh
about.

A loud clap of thunder seemed to rattle the barn roof, chasing them the rest of the
way inside. Through the open doors she could see the rain blowing in sideways sheets.

The boys stood, each one by a stall door, holding it open. Gray bolted for her stall.
Lydia pulled her hand free of the halter, and David slammed the stall door and latched
it.

“Gut work, Mammi,” he said, making her laugh.

“Wet work,” she said. Adam and Daniel had the other mare in the stall already. The
cows, not needing to be told, lined up by the stanchions as if ready to be milked.

“Not yet,” Adam said, patting the nearest flank. “Daniel, scoot up and toss down some
hay to keep them busy.”

“Ja, Daadi.” Daniel scrambled up the ladder, and Lydia bit her lip to keep from telling
him to be careful. His expression told her he was happy to be helping, and she shouldn’t
spoil it.

Working together, the four of them got the animals settled.
This is how it should be,
she thought.
This is right, no matter what Chloe might think about how backward we are.

The thought brought its own pain. She’d placed so much hope on Chloe’s visit to the
farm, she knew. Too much, maybe. Chloe certainly had different expectations than she
had.

Lydia glanced at Adam, his hand on David’s shoulder, explaining something to him about
the feed. Distracting him, most likely, from the storm that raged outside.

She’d been more than surprised when Adam, of all people, had suggested that Chloe
should read her mother’s letter. She had expected that Adam would be only too pleased
to see the last of her Englisch sister. He was thinking of her, Lydia knew, trying
to mend what was broken.

But she didn’t think it could be mended. It was too late for her and Chloe. One day
she’d be able to tell Susanna, at least.

Until then, she had her mother’s words to comfort her, and the memories others had
shared.

The storm really was right on top of them now, the thunder and lightning almost continuous.
She went to stand next to Adam and the boys, who were looking out the open door. He
glanced at her and then put his arm around her waist. They held the boys close as
the wind and rain battered the barn like an animal trying to get in.

Another loud clap rattled the barn and had David burying his face in her skirt again.
“Mammi . . .” His voice caught on a sob.

“It’s all right.” She rubbed his back, trying to comfort him. “The storm will soon
move on down the valley. We’ll see the sun again before it sets, I guess.”

Continuous flashes of lightning flared as she looked out the door toward the orchard.
The worst of the storm seemed to be right over them now, and the trees bent before
the wind.

There was a crack, a sizzle in the air, and a spark flared up from the big tree in
the middle of the orchard. Her mother’s tree. It seemed to shudder, like a person
struck a terrible blow. Lydia covered her mouth to hold back a cry as the tree fell,
shattered, to the ground.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-ONE

M
uch
later, Lydia stood in the orchard with Adam, her throat so tight she couldn’t speak.
She had refused to come out and look at the tree until after the boys were in bed,
not wanting them to see how upset she was.

They’d seemed to understand, though. They’d scurried quietly through their bedtime
routine, and their hugs had been extra tight.

“I’m sorry,” Adam said at last, his gesture indicating the scattered branches. The
trunk was split and charred all the way to the ground, and the fresh green leaves
had already begun to wither.

“The tree was old.” She fought to get the words out. “You and Daadi warned me. But
I didn’t expect this ending.” The tears spilled over, despite her best efforts, and
her breath caught on a sob.

“Ach, Lydia, I would do anything not to see you cry.” Adam put his arms around her,
his own voice ravaged by hurt.

She pressed her face against his chest. The shirt he’d put on after their dunking
in the storm smelled of spring and sunshine.

“I can’t help weeping.” She tried to wipe away the tears, but they just kept coming.
“I have lost my sister and the thing that reminded me most of my mother. It hurts.”

Adam’s arms went painfully taut. “It is my fault.”

She drew back, surprise chasing the tears away. “What are you talking about? You could
not stop the storm or keep Chloe from leaving.”

“Not the storm. But Chloe—that is my fault.” His face was so tense that the skin seemed
drawn tightly against the bones, and his mouth trembled. Adam, who was always so strong.

“Adam, don’t. Don’t look that way. Ja, you might have been a little more friendly
to Chloe, but that isn’t why she left.”

“I don’t have a job. Chloe was right. I promised to take care of you and the boys,
and I’ve failed.”

A spasm of fear went through her at the pain and grief in his face. She’d never seen
him look that way. She had to fix this, or it would destroy them.

She thought of all the times she’d said something about how strong he was and how
she knew he’d take care of them. Her whole body shuddered. Had she been destroying
him by her careless words?

“Adam, listen to me.” She grasped his arm, as unyielding as concrete under her fingers.
“I meant what I said to Chloe. Marriage isn’t about one person taking care of the
other. It’s about each one taking care of them both.”

His expression didn’t change. It seemed he didn’t even hear her, and her panic grew.

“My mamm says marriage is like two horses in harness, pulling together, going the
same way.”

That seemed to get through to him. “Your daad said something like that to me once,
too. But—”

“I know sometimes I say that I know you’ll take care of us.” The words seemed bitter
on her tongue now that she knew what harm they could do. “But that doesn’t have anything
to do with a job. I mean that you’ll always love us and be here for us.” The doubt
in his face made her frantic, and she shook his arm, as if that would make him understand
her. “I’m glad you’re not traveling away to work every day. We would rather have you
here.”

“Do you think I wouldn’t rather be here?” His mouth twisted with hurt. “But we need
the money.”

“Not that much. Adam, think. Between the jobs you pick up right here in Pleasant Valley
and the orchard, we can do all right. We don’t need that much to live plain, ja?”

She tried to smile, and it seemed to her that his expression was questioning now,
rather than grief-stricken. “My Lydia.” He took her hands in his. “You should have
everything you want.”

She knew the answer to that one. “All I want is you and the kinder. That’s enough
for me.”

He studied her face, as if he had to make sure she really meant it. Then, apparently
satisfied, he drew her into his arms.

They stood there, holding each other, and Lydia thought she could feel the gap between
them narrowing and narrowing until it disappeared. They were going to be all right.

* * *

Adam
slipped quietly from the bed before the first light edged over the eastern horizon.
He gathered his clothes and then stood for a moment, looking down at Lydia.

Sleep had smoothed away the tiny worry lines that formed when she thought of her sister.
They had been close last night—closer than he thought they had ever been—but there
was still a shadow between them.

Chloe. He would never feel right about Chloe unless he at least made an effort to
mend things between Lydia and her sister. He might not succeed, but he had to try.

He tiptoed out of the room, easing the door closed so that it didn’t make a sound,
and went downstairs barefoot, carrying his clothes and shoes. He had lain awake for
much of the night, watching Lydia sleeping beside him, and trying to figure out how
to accomplish the impossible.

There was only one answer that he could see. He would have to go to Philadelphia and
try to get Chloe back for Lydia.

The very thought of it made him feel cold inside. He’d never been farther from home
than Harrisburg, and that only once. He’d felt so lost there, and finding his brother
in such a terrible condition had only made it worse. And now he proposed to make his
way clear across the state to a city that would make Harrisburg look like a small
town. His stomach roiled.

He would feel better when he’d eaten something, he told himself. Dressing quickly,
he grabbed some bread, cheese, and milk for a hurried meal while he tried to compose
a note to leave for Lydia.

He soon realized it was impossible to put what he was feeling into words, so he kept
it brief, saying he’d try to see Chloe and hoped to be back tonight. No need to remind
her of the milking—she’d deal with it. Taking the letter Lydia had received and Seth’s
cell phone number, he went out into the thin light of early dawn.

Wet grass brushed against his pant legs as he walked to the phone shanty. He’d tried
to figure out another way of doing this, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have enough time
to set up a trip with an Englisch driver, but Seth would surely take him to Mifflinburg
or Lewisburg, where he could, he thought, get a bus to Philadelphia.

Seth picked up on the third ring, his voice blurred with sleep. “What’s wrong? My
mother?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Adam answered quickly. He should have realized that Seth
would assume the call meant an emergency.

“Adam?” Seth’s voice sharpened.

“Ja. I am sorry to wake you.” He wasn’t eager to ask Seth for a favor, but he would,
for Lydia’s sake. “I need a ride to someplace where I can get a bus to Philadelphia.
Will you drive me?” Seth would understand that he couldn’t take a buggy that far.

“You’re going to see Chloe? Why?” Rustling noises seemed to say that Seth was getting
out of bed.

Adam hesitated, but there was no point in kidding himself. Seth already knew too much
about their family business.

“I have something that might change Chloe’s mind. Lydia is so sad and upset . . .”
He let that trail off, his voice thickening.

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” Seth said, and clicked off.

Adam stared at the receiver for a moment before hanging up. It was done, and he wouldn’t
turn back now. He patted the cash he’d stowed next to his skin and set off down the
lane. He didn’t want Seth driving up to the house and waking anyone.

The air was crisp and fresh after last night’s storm. Night creatures were beginning
to go to ground as the birds started to chatter, and the moon was a pale silver disc
in the lightening sky. He reached the end of the lane and settled himself against
the fence post to wait.

It had to be less than half an hour later when Seth’s car pulled up. Adam slid into
the passenger seat.

“Denke, Seth. I think Lewisburg maybe would be best for getting a bus, ja?”

“No need for that,” Seth said. He pulled out, heading back down the road toward town.
“I’ll take you to Philadelphia.”

Adam couldn’t help tensing. The truth was that he didn’t want to be beholden to Seth.
“I don’t want to take up your whole day. I’ll go by bus.”

“That really would take all day,” Seth said, smiling slightly. “Look, I’m involved
in this already, so you might as well let me take you this next step. Besides, I know
how to find Chloe, whether she’s at work or at home.”

There was much in what Seth said, but still . . . Adam knew why he was reluctant to
accept Seth’s help, and it didn’t reflect very well on him, he suspected.

Seth slowed as they entered the outskirts of Pleasant Valley. The village still seemed
to sleep, but there was a light in the kitchen window of the bakery, which must mean
Paula Schatz was already at work.

“I’m not under the bann, you know,” Seth said, sounding irritated.

“I know.” If Adam was going to make Chloe feel accepted, he could make a start with
Seth. “If you are willing to take me, I’m grateful.”

The tension in the car seemed to ease. “Good.” Seth moved his hands on the steering
wheel and took the turn that would lead them to the interstate highway. “I saw you
had some damage from yesterday’s storm.”

“Ja. Just the one big tree down. Could have been worse, I guess.” Still, his heart
ached at the thought of Lydia’s loss.

All the more reason why he had to make things right with Chloe.

Seth took interstates all the way to the city, making Adam’s stomach churn each time
a truck roared past them. Still, Seth said it was faster that way. He made one stop
for gas and coffee, and then they were on their way again.

It was late morning when they reached the city. Seth wove his way expertly through
the congested streets, ignoring the din that seemed to pound on Adam’s skull.

After what seemed an endless onslaught of cars, trucks, people, and noise, Seth turned
into a quieter area, and in a few minutes he pulled into the parking lot behind an
imposing building.

“This is where Chloe works?” he asked. “Maybe she won’t like being interrupted.”

Seth drew into a parking space and turned off the ignition. “Let’s face it, she won’t
be exactly happy to see either of us anywhere. But trust me, this is better than taking
on the grandmother. You’d be lucky to get a word out before she’d be calling the police.”

Adam got out, frowning at Seth’s comment. “The woman doesn’t like the Amish, I know.
But surely she wants her granddaughter to hear the truth.”

“I doubt it.” Seth’s face was bleak for a moment, and Adam wasn’t sure what he was
thinking. “As far as I can tell, she blames the Amish for taking her daughter away,
maybe even for Diane’s death. She’d do anything in her power to keep Chloe and Lydia
apart.” Seth jerked a nod in the direction of the brick building. “Let’s go.”

They joined several people heading up the sidewalk. Adam caught more than a few curious
glances and saw people nudging each other at the sight of him. In Pleasant Valley,
being Plain didn’t cause comment. Here, people looked at him as if he were something
on display in the museum.

It didn’t matter. If they wanted to gawk, let them. He was here for Lydia and Chloe,
no one else.

* * *

Chloe
realized she’d been reading the same page of a report on the latest fund-raising efforts
of the museum for at least fifteen minutes. It might as well be written in Greek for
all the information she was retaining.

She shoved it aside impatiently and rubbed the tension at the back of her neck. That
tight throb, which had begun over the weekend, was threatening to become permanent.

Her grandmother, of course, had been delighted to see Chloe come back to Philadelphia
disenchanted with her experience among the Amish. Her “I told you so” refrain had
become harder and harder to take. Chloe had found herself biting back a defense of
Lydia and her family a dozen times, at least.

Chloe knew perfectly well what was at the bottom of that instinct. She’d had plenty
of time to think on the long trip back to Philadelphia, and she’d begun to realize
she’d been unfair. She’d been thrown off-balance by reading Diane’s journal, and she’d
reacted by letting the prejudices she’d grown up with come to the fore. If Lydia hadn’t
shown her the journal entry, what might her reaction have been to her visit?

The knot in her neck was tight enough to hold back a bulldozer. Lydia had been right
to show her, of course, but that had colored all her responses. She’d berated Adam,
but she feared her anger had really been toward her father, Eli Weaver. If . . .

Enough. She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling for inspiration. What
was she going to do now? That was the important question. Cut Lydia out of her life
the way her grandmother had cut Diane out, because she didn’t approve of the way she
lived?

A tap on the door interrupted that futile line of questioning, and the door opened
before she could respond. Seth. And Adam. For an instant she was speechless.

She stood slowly, fingers pressed on the desktop. Maybe she wasn’t entirely surprised
to see Seth again. Somehow she’d had the feeling that he wouldn’t disappear from her
life so easily.

But Adam—of all the people who might have come looking for her, Adam Beachy was the
last she’d expect. Lydia had implied that he never traveled far away from Pleasant
Valley. For him to come all the way to Philadelphia to see her . . . well, it had
to be a measure of his love for Lydia, and she was impressed whether she wanted to
be or not. Her small, cluttered office felt crowded with the two large men in it.

She found her voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Adam has something he wants to say to you.” Seth nudged Adam.

Adam swept off his straw hat and stood, turning it in big, work-roughened hands. “Lydia
is hurting at the way you left,” he said. “If I was the cause of trouble between you,
I have come to tell you I’m sorry.”

Chloe hadn’t expected it, and she wasn’t ready for an apology. She shook her head.
“I don’t—” She stopped. “I don’t think it was your fault. It just wasn’t working out.
I just . . . I couldn’t accept . . .”