Lydia's Hope Read online

  Adam wouldn’t like to contradict his father-in-law. But in this case, he had a feeling Joseph was wrong. He feared Lydia wouldn’t understand at all.

  * * *

  The sun was sliding behind the ridge as Seth drove through the village on the way home from Jessie’s doctor’s appointment, sending long shadows reaching across the narrow street. He glanced in the rearview mirror to check on his sister.

  Jessie leaned against the leather seat. The last time he’d looked, she’d been staring out the window. Now her eyes were closed, but it wasn’t safe to assume she was asleep. Her appointments seemed to leave her drained, and it wasn’t unusual for her to say little or nothing for the rest of the day.

  It would be comforting to feel she was making progress, but he couldn’t honestly say he thought she was. Still, the doctors had stressed that it could be a long process in Jessie’s case, searching for the right medication and going through rounds of therapy sessions. Apparently there was nothing simple or straightforward about it.

  His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Stupid, to think there was a magic pill that would solve everything, but that’s how normally healthy people tended to think, he supposed. His mother was more realistic than he was, or maybe just more accepting of what life threw at her.

  He glanced at Mamm, sitting next to him. It seemed to him that she was making a conscious effort to sit up straight, and her face was drawn.

  “Are you in pain?” he asked, keeping his voice low in case Jessie really was asleep.

  “No, no.” Her quick response only served to convince him that she was, but she’d never admit it.

  “You should lie down for a bit when I get you home. I’ll take care of supper.”

  “There’s no need. I’m fine. Anyway . . .” She let the word trail off, and Seth had a sense of things left unsaid.

  “What is it, Mamm?”

  She moved slightly, maybe trying to get more comfortable. “I was chust thinking that you should probably be getting back to your job. It has been wonderful to have you close by, but I don’t want you to lose your work. I know how important it is to you.”

  If she knew that, she knew more than he did. “It’s not a problem. Remember, I told you about how much of my work is done on the computer? I can do that anywhere.”

  “But you can’t be comfortable, living in a motel when you have a nice apartment in Chicago,” Mamm protested. She seemed convinced that the perfectly nice upscale motel was a den of iniquity. “I can hire a driver to take us back and forth to appointments.”

  “I know, Mamm. But wouldn’t you rather have me?” He gave her the teasing smile that had usually gotten him his way. She could, of course, hire a driver, and he’d be happy to pay. But his mother needed more than transportation right now. She needed support from family. From him.

  “Ja, you know I would.” She reached across the seat to pat his arm. “I just don’t want to take you away from your work. And your life.”

  “It’s not a problem. My boss doesn’t care where I am, as long as I’m working.”

  Peter Wilkins was a good friend as well as a good boss, and he never forgot the people like Seth who’d stayed with him through the struggles of getting his business off the ground. True, Pete might like having him close at hand, and there were issues that could be settled more quickly face-to-face.

  But Pete understood that Seth’s sense of responsibility to his family, even if it was belated, required that he stay here for the time being, at least.

  He turned in the lane, relieved that his mother seemed to be giving up the subject. He didn’t want her worrying needlessly. She leaned forward, peering out the window.

  “Look, here is Lydia coming with the boys. It looks as if they are bringing some supper.”

  Lydia was carrying a large basket topped with a tea towel, a sure sign that it held food. Daniel was toting a smaller basket with an air of importance, while David darted ahead.

  “She’s always here.” The snap in Jessie’s voice was never a good sign.

  Normally Mamm would correct any of her children who grumbled about a neighbor. Seth glanced at her. Mamm’s lips pressed tightly together. She obviously wasn’t saying anything for fear of provoking one of Jessie’s outbursts.

  “Lydia has been a good friend,” he said mildly, unwilling to let it go without comment.

  He could never forget just how good Lydia had been during that terrible time when Jessie had broken down entirely, flaring out at the bishop, even, and getting hysterical when confronted with wrongdoing. That had been the moment when he’d understood just how much his sister needed care.

  Mamm had still been in rehab with her hip, so he’d been the one who had to sign Jessie into the hospital. He’d been so grateful for Lydia’s calm helpfulness on that miserable day. That had been what finally woke him to a sense of what he owed his family.

  He pulled up to the back porch just as Lydia and her boys arrived. Before he or Mamm could speak, Jessie brushed past and flew into the house. The two little boys stared after her.

  “Don’t mind our Jessie,” Mamm said quickly. “She is chust tired after the long ride, ja?”

  The boys nodded, their faces solemn. “I got sick one time when we rode in a van all the way to Lancaster for our cousin’s wedding,” Daniel said.

  “That’s probably it,” Seth agreed. “Mamm, you promised you’d have a rest, too.”

  “Ach, I did no such thing. Lydia, it is so nice of you to come over.” Mamm pressed Lydia’s hand in silent apology for Jessie’s behavior.

  “We brought some pot roast for your supper.” Lydia gestured with the basket she held. “And Daniel has a loaf of cinnamon bread.”

  “I could have carried it,” David muttered.

  “Mammi thought . . .” Daniel began what was probably going to be a comment about the bread ending up on the ground, but he stopped at a look from his mother.

  “Did you know that our barn cat has kittens?” Seth said, hoping to divert their attention. “She’s had them out already, so she’d probably let you look at them.”

  “Can we, Mammi?” In Daniel’s excitement he nearly lost the bread, and Seth rescued it.

  “Ja, but don’t scare her,” Lydia said. “And don’t handle the kittens.”

  “We won’t.” Daniel was turning to run toward the barn as he spoke, with David right behind him.

  “Let me carry the basket.” Seth reached for Lydia’s burden, but she went quickly up the steps with it.

  “It’s not heavy,” she said. “I’ll just put it on the counter. It’s wrapped up, so it will stay warm awhile, or you can heat it up later.”

  “Denke, Lydia,” Mamm said. She took off her bonnet and hung it up, her movements slow. “That is wonderful kind.”

  “You do look tired,” Lydia said, her voice warm. “Why don’t you do as Seth said and have a little rest before supper? I just need to ask him something, and then I must collect the boys and get home.”

  “You are all ganging up on me,” Mamm said, but she was smiling as she went off toward the stairs.

  Seth motioned to the door. “Let’s go out on the porch to talk.” She probably wanted to discuss something about her sisters, and no one else needed to overhear.

  Outside, the breeze set Lydia’s kapp strings dancing, and for a moment she looked like the young girl he’d taken home from her first singing.

  “I’m sorry about Jessie,” he said abruptly. “Sometimes she’s fine, and other times . . .” He let that trail off, because Lydia knew as well as he did.

  “It makes no trouble.” Lydia’s voice was tranquil. “Maybe I embarrass her because I saw her at her worst. That’s natural enough.”

  “I suppose.” It would be too much to hope that Lydia could wipe that day out of her mind. He certainly couldn’t. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”

  “Ja, I do.” She hesitated, seeming at a loss for words for a moment. “Your cell phone—it is the kind that takes picture
s, ja?”

  He hadn’t seen that coming, but now that she’d mentioned it, he understood immediately. “Yes, sure. You want me to take photos of the boys and send them to Chloe, right?”

  “Right.” She gave a decisive little nod. “After all, she is Englisch, so there’s no reason for her not to look at pictures. And lots of Amish allow their kinder to be photographed.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Does that group include Adam?”

  “I . . . I hope he will understand.” Her cheeks were pink.

  In other words, she didn’t intend to tell Adam until after it was done. Well, it wasn’t his business to tell her how to handle her husband.

  “I’ll be glad to take a couple of photos of the boys,” Seth said, pulling out his cell phone. “Why don’t we do it now? I can send them right away.” Before Lydia had a chance to worry about it or second-guess herself.

  “Ja, gut.” Lydia headed for the barn, and he had to hurry to keep up.

  Funny thing. He wasn’t thinking so much about the photos. Or about how Adam would react when he heard.

  His mind was totally caught up in picturing how Chloe would look when she received them.

  * * *

  “What do you think—here or farther to the right?” Chloe held the illuminated fraktur design up to the wall, glancing over her shoulder at Kendra.

  “If that’s the largest one, it ought to go in the middle. What did you say it was called again?” Kendra was always good at making a quick decision and she was an expert restorer, but she had a blind spot when it came to other areas of work.

  “Fraktur,” Chloe repeated. She and Kendra had a deal—they each supplemented the other’s areas of weakness. “The combination of designs and words was only used on special documents, like marriage or birth certificates. This is the best one we have—it dates back to 1789.” Her fingers hovered over the intricate designs whose colorful inks had barely faded over the years.

  “It looks like something a monk would have done in copying the Bible back in the Middle Ages,” Kendra said. She took a step back, eyeing the frame to be sure it was level as Chloe attached it to the mounting strip.

  “It’s probably a descendant of those manuscripts,” Chloe explained. “The early immigrants brought the custom with them from Germany.”

  Lydia might well have a sample of fraktur hanging on the wall of the farmhouse she’d spoken of. The Amish and Mennonites had done some of the best fraktur to record the important events in the lives of their families.

  “What comes next?” Kendra leaned against the table on which Chloe had put the items for the current display in the small section allotted to Pennsylvania Dutch folk art. “You want to work on the pottery?”

  “In a minute.” Chloe reached for the folder she’d been carrying around with her. The room where they were setting up the folk art display was one of the smaller exhibit rooms, and they had it to themselves at the moment. “I want to show you something first. I received this last night.”

  Kendra pushed herself away from the table and came to look over Chloe’s shoulder as she opened the folder. Two small, smiling faces looked up at Chloe, and her heart gave a surprising lurch.

  “Adorable,” Kendra said. “Who . . .” She stopped, obviously taking in the boys’ solid blue shirts, suspenders, and straw hats. “They’re your sister’s boys, aren’t they?”

  Chloe nodded, touching the photo she’d printed. “Daniel is the older one, and David is the younger.” Daniel’s grin showed a missing front tooth. David’s face was still round and babyish, and dimples indented his cheeks.

  “So, you have two little nephews.” Kendra’s gaze was questioning. “To say nothing of two little great-grandsons for your grandmother. Did you show this to her?”

  Chloe shook her head, wondering if she was being a coward. “Not yet. I’m not sure how she’ll react.”

  “You won’t know unless you tell her.” Kendra was practical, as always. “But I thought the Amish didn’t believe in taking pictures of themselves. How did you get this? Seth what’s-his-name?”

  “Seth Miller. I gave him my e-mail address, and he sent this to me last night. No message, just the photo. I suppose he took it on a cell phone camera. I just hope he had Lydia’s permission.”

  “Look at those grins.” Kendra smiled. “Who could resist those two? But why do you suppose Seth didn’t say anything? You didn’t have a fight with him, did you?”

  “Not exactly.” But they seemed to set off some kind of fireworks each time they were together.

  Kendra twirled a strand of hair around her finger while she considered Chloe’s face. “He ought to be happy with you. He got what he wanted. You met your sisters.”

  Chloe nodded. The trouble was that Seth expected a lot more than that from her. More, maybe, than she was willing or able to give.

  “How did your grandmother react when you told her about meeting your sisters?” Kendra switched to the other thorn in her side.

  “She didn’t want to hear it, just like she didn’t want me to go. She’s maintaining a frigid silence over the whole matter, and believe me, nobody does frigid silence better than my grandmother.”

  Kendra gave a sympathetic nod. “Maybe she has more in common with the Amish than she’d like to admit. Banning you, in effect.”

  Chloe stared at her blankly.

  “Come on, surely you’ve heard of banning. Even I have, and I’m totally not interested in the Amish.” Kendra’s face expressed disbelief.

  “I . . . I’m sure I’ve heard something about it. That’s when they throw out people who don’t go along with all their rules, isn’t it?” Her stomach twisted at the thought of her sister in that ugly black bonnet. What would happen to her if she just chucked it one day?

  “I don’t think it’s quite as cut-and-dried as you make it sound,” Kendra said. “Weren’t you ever curious? I should think you’d have wanted to learn all you could about the Amish. I mean, even before you knew about your sisters, you knew that your mother had joined them. It seems unnatural not to be curious.”

  “I guess it does,” Chloe said slowly. Seth had basically implied the same thing. “My grandmother was so negative about the Amish that I suppose I didn’t question it. Kids don’t, for the most part. They accept their situation as normal, because it’s what they know.”

  “I suppose,” Kendra admitted grudgingly. “But I should think you’d have asked questions at some point.”

  “I did once.” The memory came back, falling into her conscious mind as if it had tumbled out of a closet. “My grandfather was the kindest man on earth. So I asked him why my mother had gone away and become Amish.”

  “What did he say?” Kendra prompted her when Chloe didn’t go on.

  Chloe realized she was gripping a piece of redware pottery between her fingers. She set it down carefully. “He started to cry.” Her voice became choked. “I’d never seen a man cry before. It scared me so much that I went running to my grandmother.”

  “Who promptly blamed you for upsetting your grandfather and scared you so much that you never asked again,” Kendra said. “Don’t worry, I can fill in the blanks. And your grandmother is very predictable.”

  “She’s not as bad as I made it sound,” Chloe protested. “I’m sure she means well.”

  “Means to have her own way,” Kendra muttered, but she caught a look from Chloe and subsided.

  “I suppose I ought to get over those feelings, but it isn’t easy when something’s so ingrained.” Chloe wasn’t sure when she’d started doubting her grandmother so much. “When I was a kid, I always wanted to be part of a big family. But this isn’t what I had in mind.”

  “You haven’t been talking to Dr. Dull about it, have you?”

  Chloe couldn’t control her smile, although she shouldn’t encourage Kendra. “Don’t call him that,” she said, with no hope that Kendra would desist. “He’s not dull, he’s just . . .” She searched for a word.

  “Boring,” Kendra
supplied. “Look, I have to get back to my own work. If I see one of those interns, I’ll send him down to help you. Don’t forget about the jazz festival tonight. And if you want to talk to someone about your family, call the guy who sent you the photo. You don’t look like you’re thinking of a father when you talk about him.” She was gone before Chloe could retort.

  That was ridiculous. She wasn’t looking for a father figure. And as far as Seth was concerned . . .

  Well, Seth wasn’t anyone’s idea of a father figure, not with the smile of a charmer and the depth of the seas in his eyes.

  She picked up a piece of scherenschnitte, the complex, intricate, lacy patterns that were cut from paper and used to decorate Pennsylvania Dutch marriage and birth certificates—like a child’s paper snowflake carried to its most elaborate extreme. She ought to get these hung, but first . . .

  She set it down again. First, she was going to call Seth. Not because she was interested in him, she assured herself. Just because she hadn’t thanked him yet for sending her the photograph of Daniel and David. He’d probably risked making Adam, at least, if not Lydia, angry with him, and she ought to let him know she appreciated it.

  Seth answered his cell phone on the first ring, almost as if he’d been waiting for her call. “Hi, Chloe.”

  So he’d recognized her number or programmed her into his phone, as if he expected to be talking to her often.

  “I hope I didn’t interrupt you when you’re working.”

  “Nothing I can’t stop doing for the pleasure of talking to you.” His voice was so warm it seemed the cell phone was sending off heat.

  “I . . .” She cleared her throat and started again. Really, she couldn’t let the man get to her. “I’m at work, so I can’t talk long, but I wanted to thank you for sending the photo of the boys.”

  “Cute kids, aren’t they?” There was a smile in his voice. “They were busy trying to convince the barn cat to let them pick up her kittens, so I retrieved them before someone ended up on the wrong side of her claws.”

  “Were they at your place?” Or had he been visiting Lydia? How close a friend was he, anyway?