Lydia's Hope (5 page)

Susanna, at least, surely wouldn’t be that difficult to locate. Lydia had a name and
a place, and Oyersburg wasn’t a very large community. She’d been there herself a few
times, when a group of women had hired a driver to take them on a shopping expedition
to the big fabric store.

But how could she just drop in on someone, even another Amish woman, without any reason?
What she needed now was more information. She had to find someone who’d known her
birth family well enough to answer her questions without getting tangled up in trying
to protect her. Surely, in all of Pleasant Valley, there was someone she could turn
to.

The bishop? Well, Bishop Mose had apparently been there when her parents died, and
he’d been aware of the decisions that were made, although Daad had said that he didn’t
approve of the secrecy. That might make him willing to talk to her.

Still, she couldn’t seem to rid herself of a reluctance to confide in the bishop.
What if he told her she was wrong to want to find her sisters? What would she do then?

A footstep sounded behind her, and she felt Adam’s breath on the nape of her neck.
For a moment he didn’t speak, but she could sense his apprehension.

“Are you feeling better this morning?” he ventured.

She swung around, and the wary way he looked at her made her impatient. “I’m fine.”
The words came out too sharply, and three pairs of eyes fixed on her in surprise.
“I didn’t sleep well is all that troubles me. Are you boys about done with breakfast?”

“Ja, Mammi,” Daniel said quickly.

Adam moved to the boys, talking to them in the soft cadences of Pennsylvania Dutch.
Even though the kinder were learning English now that they were scholars, Pennsylvania
Dutch was still the language of home, just as German was the language of worship.

A word from Adam sent the young ones scampering upstairs to brush their teeth before
school. She handed him his lunch pail, forcing a smile. It was not right to take out
her worries on the people she loved. She was ashamed of herself.

“I thought I might go into town today,” she said.

“Ja, gut.” Adam’s expression lightened. “That will take your mind off things, you’ll
see.”

She felt herself stiffen. “Nothing will take my mind off my sisters,” she said, with
a quick glance to be sure the boys were still out of earshot. “I’m going into town
because I need to find someone who can tell me more about my birth parents and my
sisters.”

Adam’s expression seemed to close down, like a door slamming. “Lydia, can’t you at
least try to accept what happened as God’s will? If you start digging into it, soon
everyone in Pleasant Valley will be talking.”

“Gut. That’s what I want,” she said with a surge of energy. “Maybe then I’ll learn
something useful. Don’t you understand why I have to do this, Adam?”

“I understand that you could easily end up getting your heart broken.” His shoulders
were stiff, his strong jaw square beneath his chestnut brown beard. It was the way
he always looked when he had to face something unpleasant. “Or you could be hurting
someone else. How can I want either of those things for my wife?”

Lydia stared at him, her heart feeling as if a fist had closed over it. “I thought
you would support me, Adam.”

“I will always support you. But I can’t encourage you to do something I think is wrong.”

She couldn’t speak. She could only watch as a chasm opened between them.

Adam glanced at the kitchen clock, a fine wooden piece he’d made with his own hands.
“I must go. We will talk more when I get home, ja?”

The boys were clattering back into the kitchen, eager to be off. This was no time
to embark on a difficult discussion.

Besides, what could she say? Adam had already made up his mind. She could count on
the fingers of one hand the times they’d been in disagreement since their marriage,
and this one was so big, so serious, she could only watch him go, feeling as if the
ground had shifted under her feet.

Fortunately, Daniel and David distracted her with all their last-minute needs, or
who knew how long she’d have stood there. As it was, she got them settled, books and
lunch pails in hand, and walked them to the gravel lane that skirted the orchard and
wound through the fields another half mile to the small frame Amish schoolhouse.

“Be gut today. Listen to Teacher Mary.” She gave them the familiar words without much
thought.

“Ja, Mammi, we will.” Daniel paused to assure her, always the responsible older one.
“I’ll mind that David gets there on time.” They both knew David had a tendency to
stop in search of a handful of spring violets or to follow a wiggling snake, heedless
of the time.

“I’ll see you after school,” she called as they trudged away.

Lydia waited until they’d both turned and waved, and then headed back to the house.
Usually, on a spring morning she lingered in the orchard, loving the hint of blossoms
about to burst forth, carrying their promise of a bountiful harvest. But not today.

She would keep herself too busy to think about the disagreement with Adam. She’d clean
up the kitchen and then be off to town.

Surely, if she could just think who to ask, there would be folks who’d know about
her mamm and daad and wouldn’t mind talking. One way or another, she had to know.

It took some time to get ready, of course. Unlike the Englisch, who seemed to jump
into a car for the shortest trip, if you were Amish you walked, or took a push scooter,
or drove the horse and buggy.

Normally, she would walk to town, since it was only a little more than a mile, but
she felt too impatient for that today, so she harnessed the mare and set off in the
buggy. Gray knew the way to town as well as Lydia did, so she could focus on her thoughts
instead of her driving.

By the time she reached the village, Lydia had decided where she’d go first. Paula
Schatz had been running her bakery in Pleasant Valley for as long as Lydia could remember.
Even though Paula was Mennonite, she knew every Amish person in the valley. Surely
she would have known Lydia’s parents.

She drew up to the side of the bakery, fastening the horse to the convenient hitching
rail. Although most Amish and horse-and-buggy Mennonites did their own baking, folks
still loved to stop at Paula’s for a coffee and a sweet treat when they were in town.

Fortunately the morning rush was over by the time she went inside. Paula was wiping
tables while Hannah, her niece and partner, piled loaves of bread into the wire baskets
behind the counter.

“Lydia!” Paula’s face creased in her welcoming smile. “It’s nice to see you. What
can I get for you?”

Her stomach was too tight to enjoy even one of Paula’s sticky buns, but she had to
order something. “Just coffee, Paula. And a little talk with you, if you have time.”

“Ach, we always have plenty of both,” Paula replied.

“At this time of day, anyway,” Hannah added, reaching for the coffeepot. “Why don’t
you have a chat and relax a bit, Aunt Paula? I’ll take care of what needs to be done
in the kitchen.”

“She fusses over me,” Paula confided as Hannah vanished into the kitchen.

“It gives her pleasure to help you, ja?” Lydia followed Paula to one of the small
round tables.

“Not as much pleasure as it gives me, having Hannah and her family here.” The glance
Paula sent toward the kitchen door was loving. “I didn’t realize I was lonely until
Hannah came home.”

Lydia nodded, knowing what joy Paula had experienced when her niece came back to Pleasant
Valley with her small son. Hannah was now wed to William Brand, and the family was
whole at last. That was what she wanted—that sense of wholeness. It wasn’t too much
to ask, was it?

She toyed with her coffee mug, not sure how to begin now that she was here.

“Something is wrong, ain’t so?” Paula’s expression was kind, as always.

“A little.” That was certainly putting it mildly. Lydia took a deep breath. She might
as well plunge in. “Do you remember my birth parents?”

“Diane and Eli? Ja, for sure. I didn’t know them well, you understand, but well enough
to talk to.”

Lydia thought she detected a certain reservation in Paula’s voice, which told her
that Paula might have guessed what was coming.

“You knew, didn’t you?” she asked, directing a look at Paula’s face. “About my two
little sisters?”

Paula was silent for a long moment, staring down at her coffee. “Ja,” she said finally.
“I knew. And now, I guess from your question that you know, as well.”

“Ja.” At last, she knew. “I just found out about them, and I want . . . I need . . .
to find my sisters.”

“I understand.” Paula’s voice was soft, as if she were remembering something. “I lost
my sister to the Englisch world, but at least I finally got Hannah back. I don’t know
how I can help you.”

Lydia didn’t either, but she had to try. “My mamm and daad told me about Susanna,
but they don’t seem to have any idea what happened to Chloe, the baby, after her grandmother
took her away.”

“That was a sad circumstance.” Paula shook her head. “Still, I don’t know that I can
tell you anything that your parents can’t.” She hesitated. “I do know Diane wasn’t
on such gut terms with her mother.”

Mamm and Daad had implied the same thing, but Lydia wanted to hear someone else’s
view of the situation, one that wasn’t colored by the need to keep her safe. “Did
Diane ever talk to you about it?”

Paula nodded slowly, her forehead wrinkling. “Once, I think, when I took a meal out
after the last baby was born. I had picked up the mail from the box to carry it in
with me, and I gave it to Diane. She picked one envelope out and tossed it on the
table, and I saw that it was a letter she had written that had been returned unopened.”

“From her mother?” Lydia had to say that this Englisch grandmother of hers wasn’t
sounding like such a nice person.

“Ja, that was so. Diane’s eyes filled with tears.” Paula’s eyes were moist, as well.
“She said that her own mamm wouldn’t know about her baby daughter, because she wouldn’t
open letters from Diane. It made me feel so sad for Diane.”

Lydia’s throat was tight, and she had to take a sip of the hot coffee before she could
speak. “Did you ever hear anything else about the woman?”

Paula shook her head. “I can’t say I did. Your folks would know more than I would.
Or your great-aunt Sara, maybe.”

She was obviously wondering why Lydia had brought her questions to her.

“It hurts Mamm to talk about it,” Lydia said, knowing she was being evasive. Still,
that was true enough, wasn’t it?

“Well, then, it’s clear what you should do,” Paula said as if she had no doubts. “Bishop
Mose is the person to see, ain’t so?”

* * *

So,
in the end, Lydia went where the Amish of Pleasant Valley always did when in trouble—to
the harness shop run by Bishop Mose. Over the years he had become more than a spiritual
leader. He knew and cared for every member of his flock, and even the most rebellious
teen usually responded with love and respect to his counsel.

The harness shop shouldn’t be busy at this hour of the morning. Leaving Gray tied
to the hitching rail beside the bakery, Lydia walked down Main Street toward the bishop’s
place of business.

The small village of Pleasant Valley stretched along either side of the main road.
A mix of Englisch, Amish, horse-and-buggy Mennonites, and the more progressive black-bumper
Mennonites, the town managed to thrive despite, or maybe because of, its varied population.

Lydia spotted Katie Brand sweeping the sidewalk in front of the quilt shop and waved.
Much as she’d love a visit with Katie, Katie was too young to provide information,
besides being a newcomer to Pleasant Valley.

When she reached the harness shop, Lydia hesitated with her hand on the door. Bishop
Mose had put up a new cardboard sign, she saw.
NO PHOTOGRAPHS, PLEASE.
Sometimes tourists were either ignorant or disrespectful of the Amish ban against
having photographs of themselves.

But enough dithering on the doorstep. Mustering her courage, she went inside, the
tinny chime of the bell on the door announcing her arrival. The shop was empty save
for the bishop himself, seated at the workbench in the rear. He glanced up, peering
at her over the glasses he’d taken to wearing when he did close work on a harness.

“Ach, it is Lydia. I thought I might see you today.” He put aside the leather he was
working on and rose, wiping his hands on the heavy apron he wore in the shop.

“You did?” Lydia went toward him, passing rows of bridles and harnesses, the rich
scents of leather and oil announcing where she was.

“Your daad stopped by for a talk.” Bishop Mose gestured her into the work area and
pulled out one of the stools. “Komm. Sit down. This has been a shock to you, ain’t
so?”

She nodded, accepting the seat. Maybe she should have guessed that Daad would have
already consulted the bishop, but it hadn’t occurred to her. Obviously, since Bishop
Mose had been one of those who went to Ohio in the wake of the accident, he knew all
about what had happened to her family.

The tiny flare of anger she felt at the thought was extinguished by his kind, knowing
gaze. “I don’t understand how everyone could keep it a secret from me all these years.
I’d have said nobody could succeed in keeping a secret in Pleasant Valley.”

“Ja, folks do talk a lot.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Maybe that’s why the Lord leads
me so often to gossip for a sermon topic.”

“How, then—”

He shrugged. “In this case, by the time you came home from the hospital, the immediate
interest had died away. Folks were told only that the younger girls had been taken
by other family members, and by the time you were old enough to understand a careless
remark, most folks had half forgotten that you hadn’t been born to Joseph and Anna.”

Lydia turned his words over in her mind, realizing, now that the initial shock had
worn off, she could more easily imagine how it had happened. “Maybe the fact of the
accident taking place so far away made a difference, too.” People had heard about
it but they had not been able to jump into helping right away, as they normally would.