Lydia's Hope (9 page)

As for the Englisch sister—well, she was an unknown quantity, and Seth had a healthy
respect for the unknown, especially since he might be about to explode a bomb in Chloe
Wentworth’s life.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

W
orship
service was drawing to a close on Sunday morning, and only the faintest stirring of
the Leit who sat on the backless benches in Amon Esch’s barn betrayed the fact that
they’d been here for nearly three hours already. Lydia found her attention was divided,
as it so often was, between the minister’s words and her family, seated on the opposite
side of the space.

The boys were old enough now to sit with Adam on the men’s side. A swift glance told
her that Daniel was leaning against Adam’s arm, his head tilted down. She couldn’t
see from here whether or not his eyes were closed. David sat erect, obviously modeling
his behavior in worship on that of his father.

If she had a daughter, Lydia thought, she would have someone snuggling up against
her in worship, but she didn’t have that joy. At times like this, when the reminder
was sharp, she found it necessary to repeat to herself that it was God’s will, and
that her children were God’s gift.

Anna Fisher sat next to Lydia in the section occupied by young married women, with
her three-year-old, Gracie, slipped in between her mother and Lydia. Anna’s son slept
in her lap, his head heavy in the crook of her arm.

Gracie slumped a little, her eyes drifting shut. Exchanging a sympathetic glance with
Anna, Lydia eased her arm around the little girl so that she could slide down into
Lydia’s lap.

Lydia patted the child’s back, wishing just for a moment that it was her own daughter
dozing there. But it was God’s will, she repeated.

She had gone to see Midwife Sarah, of course, concerned when there were no more pregnancies
after David. Sarah, always cautious with her clients, had sent Lydia to the clinic
that specialized in medicine among the Amish, but the doctors there hadn’t found anything
wrong. Nothing wrong, except that the years were slipping away without another baby
to treasure.

Now even Sarah herself was pregnant, something the midwife had never expected. An
Amish woman’s dress disguised pregnancy fairly well, but Sarah wore a glow that seemed
to light up the room. Lydia didn’t begrudge her the happiness. She just longed to
feel it herself.

The congregation slid to its knees for the final prayers. Lydia managed to get down
from the bench without waking the sleeping child. The prayer was a formal one, recited
from the prayer book by memory. Lydia couldn’t seem to keep herself from inserting
her own longings into the prayer—that there would be another baby to join their family,
that God would pave the way for Seth tomorrow as he went to see Chloe.

And then worship was ended with the final blessing. The men stood up, stretched, and
began sliding the backless benches into the brackets that turned them into tables
for their noonday meal, while the women headed for the house to help with the food.

Lydia walked out into the spring sunshine with Anna, blinking at the bright light
after the relative dimness of the barn. Gracie stirred in her arms, looked up at Lydia’s
face, and then wiggled to get down.

“Thank Lydia for letting you sleep on her lap,” Anna prompted, touching her daughter’s
silky blond hair.

“Denke,” Gracie whispered, and then hid her face in her mother’s skirt.

A chuckle escaped Lydia, and Anna grinned. “And denke from me, as well,” Anna said.
“Sometimes I think I don’t have enough hands.”

“I remember the feeling.” Those early years when the children were so dependent passed
very quickly, even though it didn’t seem like it at the time. “How are Myra and the
new boppli?”

Myra was Anna’s sister-in-law, and the mother of a baby boy, come to join the two
little girls in the family.

“Myra’s doing very well, as is the fine healthy baby. As for my brother—you’d think
no man ever had a son before to hear him tell it.”

“Give them our best wishes. I would have taken supper over to them this week, but . . .”
She let that trail off, thinking she shouldn’t have let her own troubles make her
forgetful of the needs of others.

“They’ve had enough food brought in to last a month,” Anna declared. “Don’t think
a thing about it.”

Anna’s teenage niece, Elizabeth, came hurrying over just then, relieving Lydia of
the need to respond. Probably just as well. No doubt Anna knew all about what had
been going on with them, like the rest of the church.

“I’ll take the kinder, Aunt Anna.” Elizabeth took the baby in her arms and held out
her hand to little Gracie. “Komm, let’s go and play a bit, ja?” She led them off to
join some other young ones on the sunny lawn.

Anna watched her, smiling a little. “Elizabeth has grown into such a sweet young woman.
She’ll have the boys flocking around her soon.”

Lydia nodded, the comment making her think again of Chloe, who seemed never far from
her thoughts. Seth had said she wasn’t engaged or married, but surely, pretty as she
was, there were men in her life, maybe even one special man.

She glanced at Anna, wondering just how much Anna had heard about her sisters. The
whole story, she’d guess, since the Amish grapevine worked better than most anything
at getting news around.

Anna had spent nearly three years in the Englisch world before coming home to Pleasant
Valley. It could be that Anna might help her understand Chloe, if only she actually
got a chance to meet her.

“Shall we go and see if there’s any help needed in the kitchen?” Anna asked.

“I’ll join you in just a minute,” Lydia said. “First I’d better ask my mamm to keep
an eye on the boys. Adam is still helping set up tables, and you know how the men
are when they get to talking.”

“Ja, for sure.” Smiling, Anna headed for the kitchen, the spring breeze making her
kapp strings and apron flutter.

Mamm was deep in conversation with a small group of older women, but the talk cut
off quickly when Lydia approached, and Lydia could guess what they’d been talking
about. Her cheeks flamed, but she managed to keep a smile pinned to her face.

“Mamm, will you watch David and Daniel for a few minutes? I’ll go and see if I can
be some help in the kitchen.”

“Ja, of course.” Mamm’s smile eased the worry lines from her face, at least for a
moment. “Go along.”

It probably helped Mamm to talk with her friends about the subject on which she’d
been silent for so long. Lydia ought to be happy it made things easier for her mother,
instead of feeling even more betrayed. But she couldn’t prevent a bit of resentment
that at least the female half of the church was talking about her this morning.

She’d just stepped up on the porch when a voice rose from the group of men clustered
just around the corner of the house.

“All I’m saying is that the Scripture says, ‘Be not unequally yoked with an unbeliever.’”

The male voice was very decided, and Lydia suspected it was that of Isaac Brand, who
seemed to have an opinion on everything.

“Eli Weaver went off and married an Englischer, and look at all the trouble it’s caused,
even after all these years. He should have known better.”

Lydia froze, her hand on the railing, unable to move. So that’s what some, at least,
were saying—implying that her parents were at fault for loving each other.

“Scripture also reminds us to speak kindly of one another and to bear one another’s
burdens.” Bishop Mose’s voice was unmistakable. “That’s a teaching we all might do
well to heed, Isaac.”

A little silence followed his words. Her heart eased, Lydia went quickly on into the
kitchen before she could hear anything else.

* * *

Seth
found the Pennsylvania German Cultural Museum in Philadelphia with only a few wrong
turns that had him arguing with his GPS. It wasn’t large compared to the city’s art
museum or the Franklin Institute, but it was an attractive brick building with a colonial
air, surrounded by gardens. From the entry, wings branched out dedicated to the history
of German-speaking immigration, traditional architecture, and a genealogical library
that probably appealed to the current interest in tracing one’s ancestors. The Amish
generally didn’t have need for that sort of help, since generations were preserved
in the family’s Bible.

He headed for the information desk and in a few minutes had talked his way through
a maze of hallways into the office of Chloe Wentworth, only to find it empty. The
young intern who’d shown him the way disappeared to locate her, leaving Seth alone.

Just as well, maybe. It gave him another moment’s respite before plunging into a family
situation that Ms. Chloe Wentworth would be justified in considering none of his business.

He glanced around, trying to get an impression of the woman from her office. The museum
clearly put its money into the areas the public visited. Behind the scenes, the offices
and storerooms were prosaic cement block.

Chloe Wentworth’s cavelike space was equipped with a utilitarian desk and chair with
a computer setup. The desk was totally surrounded by shelves filled with reference
books, filing cabinets, and a worktable piled with books and papers. A scholar worked
here, by the looks of the office, and Seth had trouble reconciling the setting with
the sophisticated woman in the photo he’d found.

Seth circled the desk casually, looking for any clue to the personality of the woman
he was about to meet. A small, silver-framed image of an older woman, elegant in silk
and pearls, sat on the corner of the desk—the grandmother, no doubt. A small stuffed
bear wearing a Phillies baseball cap leaned against the photo, drawing a grin. Somehow
Grandmother Wentworth didn’t look much like a Phillies fan, so presumably that was
Chloe.

Footsteps echoed in the hall beyond the door, and by the time the door opened, he
was several feet from the desk, staring at the titles of the reference books.

“Mr. Miller?” The female voice was crisp. “I’m Chloe Wentworth. How can I help you?”

He swung around to face the woman who was Lydia’s little sister, still with no idea
how he was going to broach the reason for his visit, and found himself tongue-tied.

Chloe was a surprise, tripping him up before he’d even begun. Instead of the glossy
but classic beauty in the photo, the real thing definitely had a style of her own.
The auburn hair was short and sleek, and huge black-rimmed glasses masked sea-green
eyes. Her skirt was short enough to warrant a second look at her legs, and the scoop
neck of her sweater revealed a tiny butterfly tattoo on her left shoulder. Chloe’s
appearance was about as far as could be from either Main Line debutante or Old Order
Amish.

He caught hold of himself. He certainly wouldn’t make the right impression by staring
at her. “It’s good of you to see me without an appointment, Ms. Wentworth.” He moved
a step to offer his hand, and she took it in a quick, cool grasp.

“No problem. Not many people seek me out at the museum, appointment or not.” She nodded
toward his business card. “I’m just a lowly assistant to the curator, and I don’t
deal with the museum’s computer needs. If you’d like me to refer you to one of our
tech people . . .”

“I’m not here on business for the software design firm.” He might as well admit that
up front and get on with it. Either Chloe knew of the existence of her sisters and
chose to ignore them, or she’d never been told. Either way, this was going to be a
tricky conversation. “I had to be in Philadelphia on business, and I was asked to
contact you on behalf of a friend of mine.” He sucked in a calming breath. “Your sister,
Lydia Weaver Beachy.”

Chloe stared at him, forehead crinkling, and pulled off the glasses, tossing them
on her desk. “Sister?” Those green eyes expressed nothing but confusion. “I’m afraid
you have me mixed up with someone else, Mr. Miller. I don’t have a sister.”

A slight shadow crossed her face as she said the words. Was it regret?

So she’d never been told, then. He wasn’t sure if that fact made this easier or harder.
“Actually, you have two sisters, Lydia and Susanna, daughters of Eli Weaver and Diane
Wentworth Weaver.”

That was blunt, but he couldn’t imagine any other way of telling the woman something
so shocking. He took an instinctive step toward her, not sure how one offered comfort
in a situation like this, but stopped dead when Chloe stiffened.

Seth eased himself back until he leaned against the worktable, trying to look as nonthreatening
as possible. “I’m sorry to just come right out with it. I know that information must
be a lot to absorb. But the truth is that Eli and Diane Weaver had three daughters,
not one.”

She glanced down at his card again, seeming to be a little reassured by the name of
the firm. Then she shook her head.

“You’re mistaken,” she said, her tone flat. “Those are my parents’ names, but your
friend is not related to me. There must surely be more than one Eli Weaver in the
world.”

“Quite a few just in Pennsylvania,” he admitted with a wry smile. “Weavers are common
among the Pennsylvania Dutch, as are men named Eli. But I suspect only one of them
married Diane Wentworth, daughter of John and Margaret Wentworth. And I doubt that
any other couple with those names died as a result of an accident on an Ohio highway
twenty-five years ago.”

He could see he’d hit home with that string of facts. Chloe’s eyes darkened. He’d
better follow up while he could, so he slid the photocopies from the file he carried,
letting them fall on her desk.

“Here’s a copy of their marriage license and a copy of a newspaper article about the
accident. I haven’t been able to get birth certificates yet, but—”

“But you no doubt can produce something convincing, given enough time.” Her voice
snapped like a whip, yanking him around to face her.

“You think these are fakes?” Funny, but that reaction had never occurred to him. “I
can assure you—”

“I can assure you that this is not the first time someone has attempted to get to
my grandmother’s fortune through me.” Chloe cut him off again. “Please leave.” She
reached for the phone, no doubt intending to call security.