Now what?
Ellie felt a desperate need to leave this place and get back home to New York. She turned on the ignition, jerked the wheel to pull the car around, and sped out of the gas station. Turning on the radio, she raised the volume so the blaring music would drive all thought from her mind.
By the time she dropped off the car and got back to her apartment, it was nearly six o’clock. She kicked off her shoes and poured herself a glass of red wine, taking it over to the sofa. She sat down and gazed out the window at the view, the familiar skyline she loved so much. The sight of those buildings was alternately soothing, glamorous, mysterious, dangerous, hopeful. New York was her city, her home.
But it’s not mine, she thought. None of it is mine. I should be living on a farm. She glanced down at her outfit. None of this stuff, she reflected, that’s for sure. No expensive clothes or makeup. No cars. No computers or cell phones, maybe no telephones at all. Certainly no public relations job—she didn’t know much about the Amish, but she could guess that wouldn’t be a profession they would particularly admire.
She took a large drink of her wine. Finding out she came from another family would have been terrible enough. But this—an Amish family. It was so far beyond her comprehension. She had no reference points, no way to understand what it meant.
Still, she knew better than to tell herself the visit today had been the end of it. Whoever else was in that pristine white house, behind those green shades, were her real family. Her biological parents. She grimaced at the notion that she would suddenly need to use such a phrase. The children playing outside today—were they related to her? Nieces and nephews?
Maybe some of them were the other Rachel’s children.
Ellie set down her wine on a side table with such force, the burgundy liquid splashed over the top of the glass. She didn’t move to clean it up. The idea that this woman might have children hadn’t crossed Ellie’s mind until now. But it would hardly be surprising, given that she was thirty years old, the same age as Ellie, of course, almost to the day. It dawned on her that the children would be nieces or nephews to Nick and A.J. And they would be her parents’ grandchildren.
Gil and Nina had encouraged their children to make their own decisions about most things in life, but they were shameless in demanding a grandchild from all of them. Ellie could hear her mother’s voice, cajoling, teasing. “We’ve waited forever. The heck with school and your jobs. We need a baby in this family. Immediately!” They didn’t truly expect any of the three to produce an offspring any time soon, but everyone knew that they were dying to see one of them take that next step. Behind the humor, they were expressing a serious wish. They wanted to fuss over an infant, to love it with the joy of never having to discipline it. As they said, a grandchild was the only thing in the entire world they lacked. “If you really loved us, you’d give us that grandkid!” their father often joked.
That grandkid was probably here, Ellie thought, maybe still an infant, maybe an older child, but likely to have been in that house. She tried to picture what her parents’ reaction would be to the fulfillment of their wish by a daughter they had never known. She couldn’t do it.
One thing she could do, though, was put an end to the secrecy. The rest of her family had to be told the truth. Even if she wanted to, Ellie couldn’t sweep it under the rug any longer. No matter what happened, she had to follow this wherever it might lead. Somehow, she had to find out who she really was, or was meant to be.
She got up and went to the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mom.” It occurred to Ellie that it wasn’t even correct for her to call this woman Mom, but she pushed the thought aside. If I go down that road, she realized, I’ll lose my mind completely.
“I need to see you and Dad. It’s important. Are you two home tonight?”
Ellie was at her parents’ apartment, ringing the doorbell at eight-thirty, wondering how she was going to explain the situation to them.
She heard her father approaching the door.
“Who could that be?” Smiling, she murmured her father’s trademark phrase to herself from her side of the door at the same moment he called it out.
Once inside, she gave him a long hug, wondering if and how things between them would change after tonight. She wasn’t sure she would be able to stand it.
“What’s the mystery, sweetheart?” Nina emerged from her bedroom to give her daughter a kiss. “It’s not like you to call a summit meeting.” Her tone was light but Ellie heard the concern beneath the words.
“Let’s sit.” Ellie led them into the dining room.
“In here? This really is a summit meeting,” her father said as he sat down beside his wife. “Is everything all right?”
Ellie tried to collect herself. “I have something to tell you, so please let me get it all out.” She reached into her purse for the envelope, extracting the letter and documents within and spreading them out on the table. “I received this earlier in the week. You remember, Mom, the letter that came here—you gave it to me when we were out shopping. On your birthday.”
“Yes, I remember.” Nina nodded. “It came here by mistake or something.”
“No, not by mistake. This was the only address for me the person had. It …”
Ellie trailed off. She didn’t know how to get through this story. She couldn’t. She pushed the letter across the table to her parents. “Read this, please.”
Both of them reached into pockets to pull out reading glasses, and Gil moved his chair closer to his wife’s so they could read together. They each held one side of the page. Ellie watched their expressions go from mildly expectant to serious. Then, her father turned pale. Her mother clasped a hand over her mouth, and her eyes grew large. She finished first, and let go of the page, putting both hands flat on the table and staring at them. Gil put the letter down, and picked up the birth certificates Ellie had slid over, sharing them with his wife. Ellie waited while they took in the information, the tension unbearable. Finally, they lay everything back down and turned to each other. Ellie saw a rush of emotions pass between them. She couldn’t decipher the unspoken communication between a couple of more than thirty years, but she easily recognized their anguish and shock.
Her father spoke first, his voice husky. “Is this true?”
Ellie nodded. “It all checks out, yes.”
“But how could it have happened? These things just don’t …” Nina looked off to the side, clearly trying to remember the events of those long-ago days. “Yes, there were some problems, but I would know my own baby.”
She looked over at her husband. “Gil? Is this possible?”
“Well, technically it’s possible, yes. There are errors made in hospitals like anyplace else. But I don’t see—the baby was ours. I mean, you, Ellie, you were our baby.”
Ellie resisted giving in to the tears welling up in her eyes. “No, Dad,” she got out. “I wasn’t.”
Nina’s voice rose with indignation. “Of course, you’re our baby. Our child, I mean. This is ridiculous! I raised you. I should know.”
Ellie could only shake her head.
Anger replaced Nina’s indignation. “Who wrote this? What kind of person sends such a thing and just signs their name, no address, no nothing? Someone who’s not telling the truth, that’s who!”
“Nina,” Gil said, putting a calming hand on her arm. He gazed over at Ellie. “Sweetheart,” he said, his tone gentle, “how can you be sure about this?”
She raised her eyes to his. “Because I saw her.”
“Who? You saw who?” Fury and fear were evident in Nina’s voice. “This nurse? Where? I want—”
“Rachel.” Ellie looked from one to the other. “I saw Rachel. Your real daughter.”
There was silence at the table.
“I drove to Lancaster today.” Rachel spoke slowly, as if she were painting a picture for her parents. “I saw where these people, the Kings, live. And Rachel came outside to sweep the
steps. That’s all. I didn’t speak to her.”
Gil sat back in his chair, as if to distance himself from the entire situation.
“How do you know it was her? She could have been anyone.”
Ellie rubbed a hand across her eyes, suddenly exhausted. “I saw her face, Mom. It was like looking at A.J. and Nick. And you.”
Nina stared at her.
“Maybe that’s just what you expected to see. Are you certain, Ellie?” Gil asked.
“Beyond the shadow of a doubt, Dad.” Ellie said. “Listen, put aside the fact that the whole story checked out, every bit of it. I researched it myself, and I assure you, I did it thoroughly. But, Mom, this woman was you. I don’t mean she looked a little like you. I mean, she was you. Both of you, really. Like A.J. and Nick, the way they look just like you. Your DNA, your genes, whatever you want to call it. She’s your child. She’s Rachel Lawrence.”
Ellie stopped, feeling almost physically ill. It wasn’t her fault this had happened, but she felt as if she was torturing her parents by bringing them this news.
“And you?” her mother got out. “What about you?”
Ellie looked down. “Like it said, I’m—or I was supposed to be—Rachel King. A member of an Amish farming family.”
“Dear God.” Gil ran one hand through his graying hair. “It can’t be.”
“Ellie, honey … what are you saying?” Nina asked.
“Mom!” Ellie understood that her mother didn’t want to hear the words, but she was powerless to stop her own growing agitation. “You read the letter. It was an Amish family that delivered the other baby. The Kings are Amish! They’re my real parents!”
“No!” Her mother drew herself up and smacked the table with the palm of her hand. “Don’t you ever say that again! We’re your parents, no matter what! You were raised here, in this family. We’re your real parents, always. Nothing can change that, not ever!”
Gil reached over to take Ellie’s hand. “Mom’s right, of course. You’re our daughter, the same way you were yesterday, and the day before that, and every day for thirty years before that. This doesn’t change anything at all.”
Ellie sighed. “I hope that’s true.”
“How could you say that?” There was pain in Nina’s voice. “You can’t possibly think this makes any difference to us.”
“You didn’t see her, Mom. Her face …”
“Ellie, are you suggesting we’re going to feel differently about you because this other person is in the world?” Gil was clearly hurt by his daughter’s words. “It has nothing to do with loving you.”
Ellie attempted to smile. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just overwhelming. I don’t know what to think about anything anymore.”
“What do you want to do about this? What happens now?” Gil looked at his wife. “What do we all want to do about this?”
“Don’t know, Dad.” Ellie shrugged. “We’re going to have to do something, though. I have to see these people, I realize that. Meet them. Amish or whatever, if they’re related to me, I have to.”
Nina spoke quietly. “Do we know if this girl wants to meet us?”
Ellie shook her head. “We don’t know one single thing about her. You read in that letter that we were each getting a copy, so she knows the whole story. I have no clue what her feeling is about all this.”
Gil seemed to be thinking aloud. “If she got the letter the way you did, just addressed to her, she may not have told anyone else about it. So we can’t really go barging in there.” His face was regretful. “Ellie, it seems this nurse made it be about the two of you. She left it to you two to decide if you wanted to tell people.”
Ellie considered this. “I guess I need to tell her I want to meet her parents. My parents.”
Nina winced but said nothing.
Ellie sighed. “Of course, they don’t have a phone, just to complicate things.”
“Write her a letter,” Gil suggested.
“Another letter,” Ellie echoed. “It’s almost comical, having to resort to that. Who the heck writes letters anymore?” She stood. “I’m sorry, but I can’t think straight anymore. This has been the strangest day of my life.”
Her parents jumped up and came around to her, Nina wrapping her in a fierce hug. Gil gently rubbed her back.
“Sweetheart,” Nina murmured into Ellie’s hair. “This isn’t anything bad. Life will go on, nothing will change. Maybe it will be like having another sister. Something wonderful.”
“Thanks, Mom. I love you,” Ellie said. “Here you are trying to make me feel better when I just dropped a bomb on you.”
“That’s true.” Nina pulled back to look into Ellie’s eyes. “You’ve brought us quite a piece of news, sweetie. I haven’t had a chance to take it in.”
Ellie’s heart broke for her mother, whose crooked smile made it clear she was struggling to put on a brave face. She wondered what her parents would do once she left the apartment.
“So you’ll write to this girl?” Gil asked.
Ellie nodded. She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, inhaling the familiar scent of his aftershave. “I’ll keep you posted,” she said in as light a tone as she could manage.
“Okay, Champ,” he said, using one of his old nicknames for her. “And don’t you worry. Everything will be fine.”
Famous last words, Ellie thought.
Chapter 8
Rachel stabbed at the dirt with her spade, paying little attention to the gardening. It had been nearly two weeks, but every day she was haunted by the memory of the woman in the red car. When Rachel got dressed in the morning, she imagined that woman putting on her clothes, closing the snaps designed to look like buttons, slipping on the apron. When she worked on her quilts, she envisioned her making the same detailed movements with a needle. In Rachel’s mind, the other woman always did a better job at being Rachel King. That Rachel was satisfied with her life, and didn’t cause trouble. In every way, she was more competent and she radiated contentedness. She belonged.
Then Rachel would think of Katie. No matter what, the other woman wouldn’t have had her. Nor would she have married Jacob Yoder. Those parts of Rachel’s life were hers and hers alone. Katie was the miracle for which Rachel never stopped feeling grateful. Those thoughts comforted her. Until the next time she found herself wondering what if … it should have been.…
“Rachel, please get the mail—I’m expecting something,” her father said, as he passed her on his way back to the fields. Shaken out of her reverie, Rachel hastened down the path to the mailbox and retrieved the small pile of letters and notices inside. She saw a letter with her father’s name on it and turned in the direction he had gone to bring it right to him.
What surprised her was a letter just underneath it addressed to her, although, again, the name was Rachel King, her maiden name. This time, though, there was a return address. Rachel stopped walking. Ellie Lawrence, New York, NY.
Lawrence. The other Rachel.
Rachel changed course and walked off toward the far side of the house where she could be alone and unseen. Sitting on the grass, her heart beating rapidly, she opened the envelope.
It was a friendly letter, but the intent of the writer was clear. She started out by apologizing for driving off so quickly the day they had first encountered each other outside the King home. Then she laid out a few details about her life, how she had grown up in New York City where she lived and worked now, some information on her immediate family members, how she got the nickname Ellie. Now that she knew about them, she wanted to meet her biological parents and the other members of her family. She asked Rachel to contact her, providing a list of addresses and phone numbers. The letter finished with her speculations about Rachel’s reactions to the nurse’s letter they had both received, and how it was understandable if Rachel were reticent about sharing the news with her family. This might not be the case at all, but, either way, Ellie felt she had to see and talk to the parents she had never known; she onl
y hoped Rachel would work with her to make this happen. Of course, it was up to Rachel whether she wanted to meet her own biological parents in New York, but they now knew the story and would welcome her with open arms.
Rachel reread the last sentence. It had never occurred to her to go to New York and meet the Lawrences. She wondered why. It wasn’t only this Ellie who had another set of parents to meet; she did as well. And a new sister and brother. Who were also a new aunt and uncle for Katie. Rachel’s head drooped as she envisioned having to explain the story to her child.
Well, she said to herself, it didn’t matter what she wished or feared. It was obvious that this Ellie Lawrence was coming to see the Kings, all of them, whether Rachel wanted her to or not. That meant she had to tell her parents.
Surprisingly, the idea of sharing it made her feel lighter; she hadn’t realized the almost physical weight of carrying such a burden. This is exactly why we don’t tell lies, she thought. Despite her dread of revealing who she was—and was not—Rachel saw that telling the truth was the only way. Come what may, she was going to do what was right.
It wasn’t until later that night, afer Katie and the other children had gone to bed, that Rachel had a chance to tell her parents she needed to talk to them. Leah King was already seated at the kitchen table, in the middle of mending a tear in a bed-sheet, a basket of other sewing still to be done beside her.
“I may fall asleep while we’re here,” Isaac said, “but you have my full attention until then.” He sat next to his wife, regarding Rachel with a sleepy expression. Leah continued to sew.
Just then, Sarah came into the kitchen. “I left my favorite tea here,” she said by way of explanation.
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