Lydia's Hope Page 15
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.
CHAPTER TEN
Mamm’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.
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.”
Chloe spotted an Amish woman standing behind a folding table lined with jars of jam. Her stomach clenched. How could her mother, brought up with every advantage of wealth and education, have chosen to live like that woman did?
The light changed, Seth accelerated around the corner, and the woman disappeared.
“Here’s the restaurant.”
Even as he spoke she saw the sign—THE PLAIN AND FANCY DINER, it read, in a border of brightly colored hex symbols.
“We’re a little early,” he said, getting out of the car. “We’re probably ahead of Lydia and Adam.”
He moved as if to come and open her door, but she forestalled him by sliding out quickly. Together they walked to the entrance.
A bright-faced teenager, wearing a simple rose-colored dress and apron, her hair drawn back under a white cap, welcomed them. “Two for lunch?” she asked.
Was she really Amish, or was that outfit
a costume, as a seafood place’s servers might be dressed in pirate costumes?
“I have a reservation,” Seth said. “Miller.”
The young woman consulted a chart and nodded. “Ja, Mr. Miller. You asked for a quiet spot, so we’ll put you back in the alcove.”
They followed her between mostly unoccupied tables. That had been thoughtful of Seth, to ask for a quiet spot. This meeting would be difficult enough without feeling that other people were eavesdropping on the conversation.
Their table was tucked away around a corner. Chloe sat down, some cowardly part of her mind suggesting that it wasn’t too late to turn around and go home. Seth passed her a menu, decorated with more of the hex signs. She stared at them for a moment. She was familiar with them, of course. Since she specialized in Pennsylvania folk art, she could hardly help but be.
“Mesmerized by the distelfinks?” Seth asked.
She shook her head, managing a smile. “Amazing how examples of folk art hang on, isn’t it?” She traced a hex sign with her fingertip. “I’ve never really understood why the Amish don’t use hex signs on their barns.”
“That would be doing something just ‘for pretty,’ and that’s discouraged. To the Amish, any object they make should be useful.”
“That seems rather harsh. Why would the church discourage artistic expression?”
They are nothing more than a cult. Her grandmother’s voice echoed in her mind. If your mother hadn’t joined them, she’d be here today.
“Objects can be both useful and beautiful,” Seth said, his voice mild. “I take it you don’t know much about Amish beliefs.” He sounded disapproving, as if he’d expected her to do her homework before coming here to meet Lydia.
Now that she thought about it, researching Amish customs should have been her first response. As it was, she had little more than an instinctive impression of an outdated patriarchal society that viewed women as subservient, and every independent bone in her body rebelled at the very idea. Why hadn’t she reacted as any historian would and looked into it for herself? Maybe her grandmother’s attitudes were ingrained in her more deeply than she’d realized.