“Did Grandpa James feel the same way?”
“He did, to be sure.” With a soft smile, she added, “It’s hard to let your children grow up. But that’s why we have the Lord, I think. We need to trust in Him to help us make decisions, and for Him to help our children, too. When your father told us he was going to be English, we prayed and prayed. Then your father admitted that he’d been praying about it, too.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Perhaps he would tell you about it now, if you asked?”
Abby shrugged, not sure how to approach her father with those kinds of questions.
Her grandmother smiled softly. “After a bit, your grandfather and I decided we couldn’t change his heart. And if he had been praying, and if he truly felt like the Lord understood his reasons, well, that had to be enough for us.”
Her grandmother’s words were so simple and heartfelt, and made so much sense, too. “You really do want me to take time and pray about what I want, don’t you?”
“For me, prayer is the only way to make decisions. The Lord is just waiting to guide us—but if He is missing in your life, it makes all those big decisions harder.” Clasping her hands in front of her, she smiled. “Of course, everything with your father happened a long time ago. Care to tell me why you are thinking about it now?”
“I guess I was just wishing I was closer to you and Grandpa James,” she hedged.
“Abby, you are my kinskind, my grandchild. No matter if I’m Amish and you are not, my world is yours, too, jah? We can be as close to each other as we want to be.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Ach! I know it.”
Abby laughed. Her grandmother made it sound so easy, but it wasn’t. Finding a place to be comfortable and happy was hard. Harder than she’d ever imagined.
“Now tell me where you want to be more popular.”
“At school,” she blurted. “I don’t fit in.”
“Fitting in isn’t everything, child. In God’s eyes we are all perfect. Besides, one day, before you know it, you’ll wonder how you ever thought you didn’t fit in.”
Abby doubted that. “Mommi, in my high school, I stick out like a sore thumb. And now everyone talks about Perry Borntrager, and how I’m the one who found him.”
“Finding a body like that would shake anyone up.”
“I was with some girls and we were smoking.” She looked at Grandma Francis. “Did you hear about that from Mom and Dad?”
“I did.”
Abby waited to hear the lecture about smoking, but none came. Instead, her grandmother just continued to sit on the bed and waited with a kind, patient expression.
Which was all the encouragement she needed. She took a breath and blurted the rest of her story as quickly as possible. “Now those girls don’t want to talk to me, and the other kids think I’m weird because I found a body but don’t want to talk about it.” She took a breath. “And Mom and Dad keep asking me why I was smoking with them in the first place.”
“And you said?”
“I said, I don’t know.” She paused. “That’s not really much of an answer. Is it?”
“I think it sounds like a fine answer. Everyone sometimes does things for no special reason.”
“You think?”
“I know. We’re all human, jah? Now, I suppose we’d best get back down with the men before they come up here wondering what we are doing with ourselves.”
As her grandmother stood up with a sigh, she added, “Don’t forget about how God works with us, Abby. He has the answers. We, on the other hand, merely try to figure things out. Remember the saying? . . . I know not what the future holds, but I know Who holds the future.”
Abby hadn’t heard that saying, but she thought it made sense. “If that’s how God wants things, he must be real happy with me right now. I don’t know have any idea what’s going to happen with my future.”
Her grandmother laughed as they headed downstairs. “Abby, you are going to have to come here more often. You make me smile like no other.”
And to her surprise, Abby felt herself smiling too as they took the steps together.
Chapter 7
“The problem with me and Perry was that he had too many secrets and I had too few.”
LYDIA PLANK
Lydia, we need to speak with you for a moment, if we may,” her father said.
Looking up from the bowl of frosting she was mixing, Lydia gazed at her father with concern. It wasn’t his way to ask her to talk. Usually, he just approached and said what was on his mind. “Right now?”
“I think that might be best. Unless you can’t stop your baking?”
“I’m only making frosting, Daed,” she said as she turned to the sink and quickly washed her hands. “Where do you want to talk to me?”
“Come to the porch, Lydia,” her mother said. “We can sit on the rocking chairs for a spell. It’s so peaceful out there.”
Both her parents were waiting on her? And her usual bossy mother was standing to the side, waiting for Daed to talk? Something must have happened. “I’ll be right there,” she said quickly.
As soon as she dried her hands, Lydia went out to join her parents. Hanging from the front-porch railing were a series of baskets filled with marigolds. Usually the flowers and the fresh air gave her a feeling of peace, but all she felt at the moment was a sense of foreboding. It washed over her in waves as she saw their serious expressions.
“Is something wrong?”
“Nee. I mean, not really.” Her mother flashed a smile that disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. “Come sit down, child.”
Her bare feet felt chilled as she walked across the thick planks of decking. When she sat down in one of the white-washed rocking chairs, she noticed that her parents’ hands were clenched together tightly.
“You two are starting to scare me. Is this about the police detective’s visit?” That was the only thing she could think of that would cause her parents to wear such stricken looks.
“It’s not about the detective’s visit. It has nothing to do with Perry,” her father replied. “Well, not really.” Her parents exchanged looks.
“What’s happened?”
“Well, when those English girls first discovered Perry on the Miller farm, it caught us by surprise.”
“I think it caught everyone by surprise.”
“The Lord does watch over us all,” her mother said, “but He also does things for a reason, I believe.”
After looking at her mother for a long moment, her father cleared his throat. “Lydia, when we heard that Perry’s body was found, it got us to thinking.”
“What about?”
This time her mother answered. “Well, that there had to be a reason he was murdered and then hidden in the well. He must have had secrets. No one could have imagined that such a thing would happen in Crittenden County. And especially not in our community.”
Lydia nodded. Perry’s death had been a shock, for sure. But she still had no idea why her parents wanted to talk to her about his death now.
Her parents exchanged looks, then her daed spoke. “It made your mother and I realize that keeping secrets wasn’t such a good thing.”
Lydia blinked. Her father’s Amish accent was slowly becoming stronger with every sentence he spoke. That was a sure sign that something was really bothering him.
Or that he was nervous.
What was going on? Why were they talking about secrets? Did her parents not trust her? “I haven’t been keeping secrets from you. Or from the detective,” she added quickly.
Then, as she realized that she’d kept many things about Perry close to her chest instead of telling the policeman, and that that was almost the same as lying, she amended her words. “I promise, I hadn’t been courting Perry for weeks. I hadn’t even seen him since December.” She ached to add that they hadn’t even been all that serious, that the two of them had liked the idea of their union more than actually s
pending time together.
“We believe you,” Mamm said. When she hesitated, awkwardly looking toward her husband, her father spoke again.
“What we’re talkin’ about, it’s not about Perry.”
“Then, what?”
Her parents exchanged uneasy-looking glances again.
“You two are really startin’ to worry me. Is someone sick?”
“No one is sick.” Her father braced his hands on his knees, then took a deep breath. “The Lord works in mysterious ways, daughter. When we were first married, we hoped for a boppli right away. But after two years, we realized that Gott had other plans.”
All her life she’d been taught to listen to the Lord’s guidance instead of her own will. “Yes?”
“Patience, Lydia,” her mother warned. “What we are saying is of great consequence.”
Tucking her head, Lydia kept silent.
Her mother continued. “Daughter, I don’t know how to fully describe how I was feeling. See, I wanted a boppli badly. All I ever wanted was to raise a family. Soon, it became all I could think about. That, and how it didn’t look like I was going to get my wish.”
Lydia felt sorry for her mother, but still didn’t understand why they’d decided this information was of great importance—or that it had to be shared right that minute. “God listened, right? I mean there are four of us. You did get the family you always desired.”
“Gott did listen, indeed.” Her mother flashed a smile. “But my wish didn’t come true in the way I had imagined. You see, we began to get desperate, and so we started asking people about adoption.”
Lydia’s mouth went dry as the words sank in. “I didn’t know that,” she said slowly, still wondering what they were trying to tell her.
“Lydia, we went to an adoption agency. Quite unexpectedly, we heard there was a baby girl who’d just been born . . .” her mother’s voice drifted off. “For reasons we never learned, the baby’s mother had decided to put the baby up for adoption. The administrator said the woman had been looking for a warm, loving family.” Glancing her father’s way, her mother finished her story. “She was lookin’ for a couple just like us.”
Still confused, Lydia leaned forward. Waited for the second half of the story. “And?”
“And we adopted that baby,” her father said with a shrug.
Lydia still didn’t understand. They were speaking of the past, but all this was new. “So,” she said hesitantly, “you are going to raise another child?”
Her mother smiled slightly though that happiness didn’t reach her eyes. “That child was you, dear,” she said softly. “We adopted you.”
Adopted? A cold chill raced through her, as sharp and jarring as a pitcher of ice water. “What? I’m not yours?”
“Of course you’re ours, daughter,” her father said emphatically. “Don’t you understand? We adopted you.”
Looking almost helpless, her mother spoke quickly. “You are my daughter. The daughter of my heart, Lydia.”
She was a daughter of her mother’s heart? What in the world was that supposed to mean? “Mamm?” But as soon as she said the word, she felt tears prick her eyes. Was her mother even her mother?
“I know this news must surely be a surprise to you, Lydia,” her father said matter-of-factly. As if they were discussing her grades in school. Or the vegetable garden. “However, you should know that almost as soon as we agreed to raise you, your mother became pregnant with your brother.”
Beaming, her mother nodded. “It was a wonderful-gut blessing, for sure!”
A sick, terrible ache formed in her middle and held on tight. Why were her parents beaming? “So no one but me is adopted?”
“Nee.”
“None of them? Not Reuben or Petey or Becky?” Only after she asked the question did she dare to feel guilty. How could she want her siblings to be adopted, too? Shame filled her as it waged war with resentment. Struggling to contain the mixed emotions was causing her head to pound.
“You are the only one. We never told you because we didn’t want you to feel different than the others.”
When her daed paused, Lydia quickly spoke, filling in the gaps. “No different from the others who are really your children.”
“You are my daughter,” her mamm soothed. “You are just like the others.”
The words sounded forced and faked. “I am not. I am someone else’s daughter. Some . . . some other woman’s,” she sputtered. “But for some reason she didn’t want me.” Confusion spun with feelings of sadness. She was twenty years old! How could her parents have kept this a secret for so long?
Her father frowned. “Lydia, it wasn’t like that.”
“You were always a blessing to us,” Her mother said. “That is what we are trying to tell you.”
“I hear what you are saying,” Lydia allowed, but now she didn’t even know if that was the truth anymore. Her mind reeled. What did it mean when everything she had thought was true was now lying on its side? “I don’t know what to think.”
“You shouldn’t think anything is different. We are still your parents, and you are still our daughter.” Her father said with such a determined expression that she supposed he thought she was eight years old again. That all he had to do was say that something was the way he wanted it, and she would accept his word.
But it was now obvious that his word couldn’t be trusted anymore. After all, he’d lied to her about who she was her whole life.
“Why are you telling me all this now? Does my real mother want to meet me?” She ignored the flinch her mother gave. “Has she ever contacted you? Have you been contacting her all this time?”
But instead of seeking to give her more answers, her father retreated behind a mask of propriety. Reaching out, he clasped her mother’s hand and threaded his fingers through hers. Making a solid connection. A bond. “This is your real mother, child.”
“You know what I mean.” Forcing herself to be strong, to ignore the tears that were threatening to fall, Lydia held herself stiffly. “Did she ever say she wanted to know about me?”
Her parents exchanged looks. “Nee,” her mother finally said. “The woman who gave birth to you never wanted to know you, and she never wanted you to know about her. That was part of the agreement,” she added, looking torn and guilty.
The small ray of hope that had been threatening to rise vanished completely. There was no happy news here. Her real mother had given her away like an unwanted kitten and had moved on with her life. Her real mother had never wanted to hear about her. She never wanted to get to know her.
Though it didn’t make all that much sense, given that she’d just found out about it all, the harsh rejection stung. Hurt more than Lydia could ever imagine.
“Why tell me now?”
Her father leaned toward her. “With everything that happened with Perry, we started realizing that the Lord gives each of us only a small number of days on this earth,” he said quietly after glancing toward her mother again, “We began talking about the time of your birth, and how you are twenty now. An adult. One day soon you’ll find a man and get married. We realized that time is precious. It is probably best not to count on many more tomorrows. Instead, it is best to do things right away.”
“I didn’t want to wait any longer, even though I knew this news would upset you, Lydia,” Mamm said. “We thought it was something you would want to know before you married and had kinner of your own.”
“What was she like? What was my mother like? Was she young? Old? Married? Unmarried?”
After exchanging glances, her father answered. “We never asked.”
“We didn’t want to know, Lydia. You were all that mattered to us. And you were wunderbaar.”
“Were they Amish? Or were they Englischers?”
“I don’t know,” her mother said. “It wasn’t important.”
Lydia had never heard of an Amish couple giving up a baby. Therefore, it was highly likely that her birth parents were English
. Which meant . . . what? “If my parents were English, am I even Amish?”
“You were raised by Amish parents. You were brought up Amish. Of course you are Amish.”
“But I have not yet professed my faith,” she pointed out.
“That is only a matter of time, though, jah? In no time, when you are courting again, I’m sure you will be ready to be baptized.”
Now Lydia wasn’t so sure of that. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“But this is your heritage.”
“Nee, I thought I knew my heritage by birth,” she corrected. “Things are different now.” Her voice drifted off as she realized now there were so many holes and blanks in her past, it was as if half of her life had gone missing.
Before her eyes, her parents’ attitudes hardened. With a glare, her father said, “You are making this more complicated than it is.”
“You’ve kept a secret about my part in this family for twenty years. It’s pretty complicated to me.”
Her father crossed his arms over his chest. “But nothing has changed, Lydia.” After a pause he added, “And there’s no reason for you to talk to your brothers and sister about it, either.”
“You want me to keep the secret now?” She felt completely betrayed. Here they’d tossed this information in her lap and now didn’t want her to mention it again.
Her mother’s chin lifted. “It is for the best. Your siblings might not understand, you know.”
Oh, she knew. Feeling like her whole world was spinning, she stumbled to her feet. “I think I’m going to go for a walk now.”
“Now? You can’t. You have work today.”
“I am not going into the greenhouse. Reuben can work for me instead. Or you two can.”
Her mother leapt to her feet. “That’s it? That is all you have to say?”
What could she say? For some reason, her parents expected her to take their news, smile, and then go walk to the nursery and work by their side until dark. It was far better to get some space between them before she said something she would regret. “Jah. I’m going to go for a walk. I might be a few hours.”
Missing with Bonus Material: The Secrets of Crittenden County, Book One Page 6