Lydia's Hope Read online

  “What did she say?” Chloe discovered she had no trouble picturing a teenaged Brad—he’d have had the same fine, slicked-back hair, thin face, and glasses.

  “Escaping.” He blinked, as if he’d teared up. “She said we were escaping. We drove clear down to the shore. No one was there—it was November. Diane ran out onto the beach as if it were summer. She grabbed my hand and made me run with her.” He stopped, blinking rapidly.

  Chloe could picture the scene so clearly in her mind, but she couldn’t get at the emotions. What had Diane wanted?

  “What did she want? To be free?”

  “Not exactly.” Brad seemed to come back from a long distance. “She wanted to be . . . well, real was the word she used. She said, ‘This is what’s real. The earth, the wind, the water. Not all the useless things my mother collects to fill up her life.’”

  He fell silent, looking as if he’d exhausted himself. “Your mother left a few days later. I didn’t hear anything from her, but I felt quite sure she’d gone looking for something she felt was real.”

  And she’d apparently found it with the Amish, of all the unlikely places. Chloe had wanted to know why Diane left her home and family and became Amish. She’d found out all she could at this end of her mother’s life. If she really wanted to learn more, she’d have to go to the Amish part of the story.

  * * *

  Once Seth had made up his mind, he didn’t lose any time. Since letters and phone calls and jars of apple butter hadn’t brought Chloe back to Pleasant Valley, he had come to Philadelphia to do it in person.

  Seth drove down a narrow tree-lined street, peering at the numbers on the gracious old homes on either side. This neighborhood had escaped the tendency of the city to gobble up its surroundings, maybe because the people who’d chosen to live here a hundred years ago or so had had enough influence to prevent it.

  Caught as he was between Lydia’s fears that her mother had planned to leave the Amish and Chloe’s unanswered questions about why she’d become Amish, he’d begun to feel like a volleyball being pummeled by both sides. The two of them, unlikely as it seemed, were sisters. The only way for them to begin to resolve their concerns was to do it face-to-face.

  He’d tried the museum first, assuming Chloe would still be at work, only to learn that she wasn’t there. The guard, perhaps recognizing him from his unceremonious exit on his previous visit, had stonewalled any questions about Chloe.

  Fortunately another of the museum’s staff had been passing and overheard. She’d looked at him with a lively question sparkling in her dark eyes, identified him before he could identify himself, and told him that Chloe had taken the afternoon off and should be home by now. She’d done everything but take him by the hand to lead him to the house. Bemused, he’d followed her directions, wondering how he’d acquired a friend on the museum staff.

  The street was so quiet it was hard to believe people actually lived here. There was the number. Hoping he wasn’t about to get a parking ticket for daring to disturb the purity of the area, he drew his car to the curb and got out.

  Now the question was whether he’d get in the front door. He imagined Margaret Wentworth guarded by an elite squad of men in dress suits and sunglasses. But the person who came in answer to his ring of the bell was a gray-haired elderly female in an old-fashioned housedress—certainly not Margaret herself.

  “Good afternoon. I’m Seth Miller, calling to see Chloe—”

  She grabbed his arm and yanked him inside, shushing him at the same time. With a swift move, she propelled him through the hallway toward a swinging door.

  “Who is it, Nora?” Another elderly female, by the sounds of it, and a rather commanding voice.

  “No one, Mrs. Wentworth. Just someone asking directions.” She pushed him on through the swinging door and into the kitchen.

  He looked at her questioningly when she released her grasp.

  “Sorry. No sense in having a fuss if we can avoid it.” She darted a glance toward the ceiling, presumably toward her employer. “You stay here. I’ll get Chloe.” She scurried up a set of enclosed stairs that must be the means for servants to access the upper floors.

  He leaned against a kitchen counter. How did he come to have so many allies among people he’d never met? It was obvious that the housekeeper, like the woman at the museum, had not only heard about him but also sympathized with his desire to get the sisters together.

  Footsteps came down the stairs again, Chloe hurrying, the housekeeper a few steps behind her.

  “Seth, I wasn’t expecting you.” Chloe’s face was warm with welcome. “Did you have another business trip to the city?”

  “Not business, just you and Lydia. You have to come back to Pleasant Valley.” Well, maybe he didn’t need to be quite that blunt. He didn’t want to put her back up.

  “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to sound so demanding. But neither you nor Lydia can go on this way. She’s longing to see you, and the answers you’re looking for are in Pleasant Valley.”

  “That’s nonsense.” The authoritative voice cut through the kitchen, sending all of them swiveling toward the door. The woman who stood there obviously wished she could incinerate Seth with the stare she directed at him. “My granddaughter has neither the need nor the desire to return to that godforsaken place. Or to see the people who are to blame for her mother’s death.”

  “Lydia isn’t to blame for Diane’s accident. She’s Chloe’s sister, and Chloe has every right to see her.” The rest of them might be terrified of this woman, but Seth wasn’t. He’d be happy to engage in battle.

  “I have no intention of arguing with you, young man. I don’t know what you hope to gain by this charade, but it won’t work. Now get out of my house before I call the police.”

  “Your orders didn’t prevent your daughter from leaving. Are you trying to drive Chloe away as well?”

  “Stop it.” Chloe sounded every bit as authoritative as her grandmother. “I’m capable of making my own decisions.”

  “Tell him, Chloe. Tell him that you have no intention of going back there.” Mrs. Wentworth leaned on the ebony cane she held, bending the considerable force of her will on her granddaughter.

  Eyes wide, Chloe looked back at her. Seth felt her slipping away.

  “I’m sorry, Gran.” Her voice was soft, but it admitted no room for argument. “I have to go back to Pleasant Valley. I have to find out if my mother found what she was looking for there.”

  “I won’t allow it.” But the woman’s iron will was weakening.

  “You’re tired, Gran.” Chloe’s face was gentle as she touched her grandmother’s arm. “Let Nora take you upstairs to have a little rest before dinner.”

  “That’s right.” Galvanized, the housekeeper hurried to take the woman’s arm and steer her away. “I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.”

  Seth let out a long breath. He’d accomplished what he came here to do, but he had a feeling it might not have been necessary. Chloe had already made her decision.

  “I’m sorry . . .” he began.

  She shook her head. “I’ll walk you to your car. Then I’ll have to see to my grandmother.”

  He understood. Family was family, even when they were downright unlikeable.

  They went together back through the marble-floored hall to the imposing front door. The rooms on either side of the hall were decorated in a stiff, formal manner, reminding him of nothing so much as a funeral home.

  They reached the car without speaking. He looked into her face and saw the afternoon sun gilding her skin. “I’m sorry if I made things more difficult for you.”

  “It wouldn’t have made a difference. She’d still have reacted that way when she learned I planned to go back.”

  He studied her face, seeing a new determination there and wondering what had caused it.

  “You said you wanted to see if your mother had found what she was looking for. What do you think it was?”

  “Real li
fe. That’s what Diane was searching for, according to someone who talked to her shortly before she left. Did she succeed?”

  He thought of Lydia’s discovery. But that was hers to share or not, as she saw fit.

  “I don’t know. I hope you find out.”

  And I hope no one ends up getting hurt any worse.

  * * *

  According to her GPS, Chloe was only a few miles from Lydia and Adam’s farm. She should feel relieved. She didn’t. Nervous, uncertain, wondering if she’d made a mistake . . . those better described her mood.

  Why had she committed herself to staying until Monday? What if she found it too strange? What if . . .

  That was ridiculous. Her mother had been brought up the same way she had, and Diane had adapted to the Amish way of life. Chloe could certainly stand it for two nights.

  She intended to give this visit a fair shot. It was the only way she could think of to understand what had drawn Diane to become Amish.

  The anonymous female voice of the GPS announced that the turn was just ahead. A moment later she saw the mailbox Seth had told her to watch for. With a little flicker of anticipation, she turned in at the gravel lane.

  Several cows watched her incuriously from a pasture on one side of the lane. On the other side stretched a field that looked as if it had been freshly plowed, not that she knew much about it. There was the house, a simple white frame two-story, and stretching off to the left was the orchard. Behind the house she spotted a barn and several other outbuildings whose use she had to guess at. She hoped one of them wasn’t an outhouse. That would be carrying roughing it a little too far for her.

  As she neared the house she saw people on the back porch, so she stopped there, rather than at the front. Lydia was already coming to meet her, smiling widely, her face lit with pleasure. For better or worse, she was here.

  Chloe slid out and rounded the car. Before she could speak, Lydia had enveloped her in a hug. Chloe hadn’t intended to greet her this way, but Lydia’s pleasure was so obvious, her grip so warm, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to return her hug.

  “I am wonderful glad you are here at last.” On her own turf, Lydia was relaxed and smiling, the constraint she’d showed at the restaurant gone. “I’ve been longing for this day. We all have.” She gestured toward the people grouped behind her.

  Chloe hadn’t expected a welcome party. Adam stood a couple of steps away, still rather severe-looking, but he managed a nod.

  “You are wilkom to our home, Chloe.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled. She could be pleasant, for Lydia’s sake, even though he seemed to find it a struggle.

  Lydia drew an older couple forward. “Chloe, you must meet my mamm and daad. Your aunt Anna and onkel Joseph, ja?”

  The woman wore a dark dress and apron that would have seemed drab if not for the smile that lifted her lips and made her blue eyes sparkle. The man had a beard, like Adam, only longer and grayer. His lean face was crinkled with smile lines, conveying an image of strength softened by kindness.

  She held out her hand and then wondered whether a handshake was acceptable. But he took her hand in both of his.

  “Your father was my older brother,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Chust in case you’re having trouble sorting out the family.”

  “Onkel Joseph,” she said. Somehow the words didn’t sound as strange as she’d have expected. She’d never had an uncle before other than Brad, her courtesy uncle. “Did . . . Did you and our father look alike?”

  “Ach, ja,” Aunt Anna said. “They were like enough to be twins, folks always said, though Eli was three years older.” Without waiting for an invitation, Aunt Anna gave her a swift hug.

  So her father would have looked like this, if he’d lived. Black pants, suspenders crossing still-broad shoulders, straw hat perched squarely on graying hair. And an overall sense that here was someone who knew his place in the world and was content. Maybe that was what had drawn Diane to Eli.

  “Our three boys wanted to bring their families to meet you, but we thought this was enough for today,” Anna said. “They’d be your cousins, though Lydia has always considered them brothers.”

  Chloe nodded, relieved that she didn’t need to meet any more previously unknown relatives today. This was confusing enough. She glanced at Lydia and asked the question on her mind. “Did you know you were adopted? When you were young, I mean?”

  Lydia nodded, but it was Anna who answered. She was obviously the chatty one in the family.

  “Ja, we explained to her from the time she could understand. She didn’t remember anything, you see, so she had to start all over again at five.” Anna’s lips trembled with remembered sorrow.

  “That must have been difficult for you.” Chloe tried to imagine what it would be like to have an injured five-year-old suddenly become your responsibility.

  “Hard, ja. But God gave us such wonderful happiness, too.” She gave Lydia a loving look, making Chloe’s heart twist.

  A small figure emerged from behind Lydia. “Is it our turn yet, Mammi?” he asked in a stage whisper.

  Lydia smiled. “Ja, David, it’s your turn.” She drew a slightly taller version of the child from behind her husband and pushed them both forward. “Daniel, David, tell your aunt Chloe you are happy to meet her.”

  The older boy stepped forward at once. “I am happy to meet you, Aunt Chloe. I’m Daniel. I’m eight.”

  Chloe held out her hand, and he shook it gravely. “It’s very nice to meet you, Daniel.” Her throat grew tight at the feel of that small hand in hers. The two boys were very much alike with their fine blond hair cut bowl-shape, their even features, their huge blue eyes.

  “I’m David.” The young boy seemed to take his cue from his brother, pushing forward. “It’s nice to meet you,” he echoed. He looked up at her with a sudden, mischievous grin that set him apart from his brother’s more serious expression.

  “I’m glad to see both of you at last. I never had nephews before.”

  “We had aunts,” David said.

  “But not Englisch aunts,” Daniel added.

  Did he consider that a good thing or a bad thing? She wasn’t sure.

  “I brought something for each of the boys.” She sent a glance toward Lydia. “I hope that’s all right.” Maybe she should have checked first, but there hadn’t been time.

  “Ja, that’s fine,” Lydia said.

  Chloe returned to the car and reached in the backseat to pull out the baseball and bat. The sporting goods store clerk had assured her that they were the right size for the boys’ ages.

  Their eyes seemed to grow even rounder as she presented the gifts. “For us?” Daniel said. He looked toward his parents.

  Lydia nodded, smiling. Adam . . . She sensed something negative coming from Adam for an instant, and then it was gone, and he was nodding as well.

  Permission granted, the boys seized the presents. David began ripping the packaging from the ball, but Daniel paused. “Denke, Aunt Chloe. It was wonderful kind of you.” He elbowed his brother.

  “Denke, Aunt Chloe,” David responded. “Look, it’s just the kind I wanted.”

  “Why don’t you go try them out,” Lydia suggested. “We must not keep Aunt Chloe standing outside. Where is your bag? I’ll show you your bedroom.”

  Chloe pulled the small overnight case from the trunk. The men melted away after the boys, and she followed the two women into the house.

  The back door led through a small mudroom into the kitchen. Chloe glanced around, relieved to find that for the most part it looked like any other kitchen. Plain wooden cabinets covered one wall, and what looked similar to a camping light hung over a long wooden table. There were pots of growing plants on the sunny windowsills, and a comfortable-looking rocker stood next to the stove. It was an ordinary gas stove, she was relieved to see.

  “Something smells wonderful,” she said, inhaling a rich aroma.

  “Lydia is making chicken potpie for our supper,�
�� Aunt Anna said. “She makes a wonderful-gut chicken potpie.”

  “Mamm made the fruit pies for dessert,” Lydia said, seeming eager to share the credit. She nodded toward three lightly browned pies waiting on the countertop.

  “They’re beautiful. I know it takes an expert hand to make pastry that light.”

  Anna flushed a little, ducking her head as if avoiding the praise. “It’s nothing.”

  “Here is the dining room,” Lydia said, leading the way through to the front of the house. “But we usually eat in the kitchen. I do my sewing in here, because the room is so light, and the boys do their schoolwork at the table.”

  A yellow-lined tablet lay open on the table. Someone, presumably David, had been practicing his letters.

  “The living room.” Lydia gestured as she led the way up the stairs. “In the back of the house is the laundry and the pantry, and up here we have four bedrooms and the bathroom.”

  No outhouse, then, thank goodness.

  “This will be your room. Ours is across, and the boys’ there. The other room . . .” Lydia hesitated. “Ach, we had hoped to fill them all up with kinder, but it hasn’t happened.”

  The sorrow in her face was clear, and Chloe wasn’t sure if she should speak or not. Surely their strict rules didn’t prohibit the use of modern medicine. “Do you . . . That is, have you spoken to a doctor about it?”

  “Ja, I went to Sarah first, our midwife, and she sent me to a specialist for some tests. At the big clinic over in Fisherdale. The doctors could find nothing wrong, so I must accept that it will happen when God wills.”

  Anna was nodding in agreement. Apparently that acceptance was part of being Amish. Chloe wasn’t sure she could manage it. And how would her mother have done, in similar circumstances?

  “Ach, what am I thinking, keeping you standing here with your suitcase?” Lydia seemed to make an effort to shake off her obvious sadness. She led the way into the closest bedroom. “Here is your room when you are with us.”

  The bedroom was plain and simple, as she’d expect of an Amish home, but the double bed was covered with a postage stamp quilt worked in a lovely double wedding ring design. Chloe went to it immediately, touching the nearly invisible stitches.