Lydia's Hope

by Marta Perry

  An hour later, Seth was discovering that doing the mundane chore of cleaning up the kitchen with his sister had an unexpected benefit. Jessie, away from Mamm’s concerned presence, seemed to relax with him, chatting away as if they really did have a brother and sister relationship.

  He didn’t know her, he thought, his heart clutching as she laughed at something he’d said. Jessie was his own sister, and he didn’t know her. The age difference between them was a barrier, of course, but he ought to admit the truth to himself, at least. He’d been so caught up in his own angst about Amish life in his teen years that he hadn’t spared much thought or attention for his baby sister. Maybe that had been an excuse then, but it wasn’t a very good one for his neglect of his family since then.

  “You’ll be going back to work after we finish the dishes, ja?” Jessie’s hands seemed to slow on the pot she held.

  “Not right away. I don’t have anything that has to be finished tonight.” He was a little behind on his current project, but nothing he couldn’t make up in a few days’ time. Working out of a motel wasn’t the most comfortable situation, but he needed the amenities it provided. Maybe it would make more sense to give up his apartment in Chicago and look for a small place to rent around here, but he’d been hesitant to take so final a step.

  “You miss being in the city.” Jessie made it sound like an accepted fact. “You’re only staying around to help Mamm.”

  He was silent for a moment, trying to understand the intent behind her comment. “I want to help Mamm, yes. It worries me that she’s still having so much trouble recovering from her surgery. But you know what? I kind of like it here. Gives me a chance to get to know my little sister.” He smiled, flicking the dish towel at her, and was rewarded by her pleased flush.

  “Do you miss it?” Her gesture seemed to take in the whole outside world.

  “Some things,” he admitted. “But not as much as I had expected. I like my work, and I can do it anyplace as long as I have a computer and the Internet.” He paused, wondering how familiar Jessie was with the computerized world, but she nodded as if she understood.

  “When you’re here, people know what it’s like to be a fence-jumper, ain’t so? That makes it easier for you.”

  He hadn’t expected that level of understanding from Jessie. “I guess that’s about it. Out in the world, if I say I was Amish, some people look at me as if I was a freak. And even if they don’t, they’re still . . . curious.”

  That was the kindest word he could come up with for the often intrusive questions. People tended to assume he was relieved to have escaped, as they would see it. They didn’t understand that there were plenty of things he still missed about this life, no matter how long he’d been Englisch.

  Jessie seemed to turn inward. “It’s hard,” she said, her voice soft as a breeze through the apple trees. “To be different.”

  His heart twisted again. He’d often thought Jessie didn’t even realize she had a problem. He’d been wrong.

  “I have to go over to Lydia and Adam’s to give them a message. Would you like to go with me?” He extended the invitation impulsively.

  “You want me to come?” Her brows lifted in surprise.

  “I have to tell Lydia something about her sister. Be sort of nice to have a woman along.”

  Jessie seemed to look at the comment from all angles, maybe to be sure he wasn’t making fun of her. Then she nodded. “Ja, I would like to.”

  In a few minutes they were walking across the orchard, the breeze teasing strands of silky blond hair free of Jessie’s kapp. She brushed them back with one hand.

  “It’s not bad news that you have for Lydia?” she asked when they’d gone about halfway.

  “Not exactly. I think it will please her, but it’s still an upheaval in their lives.”

  “Because she has an Englisch sister.” Jessie nodded. “I know.” She darted a sidelong glance at him. “Were you sweet on Lydia, before you left?”

  “What makes you think so?” He parried the question, surprised at how accurate her intuition seemed to be.

  “I just thought so.” Her gaze slid away from his.

  “Maybe a little bit,” he said, remembering the night he’d taken Lydia home from the singing. He’d wanted to kiss her, but he hadn’t quite dared. “It was a long time ago.”

  “They say people never forget their first loves.” Jessie’s voice was wistful. Was she thinking that was something she’d never know?

  Lydia was already at the back door to welcome them when they arrived, no doubt having spotted them walking through the orchard. “Seth, Jessie. How nice.” She gestured them into the house, her gaze perhaps a little cautious when it rested on Jessie.

  Small wonder. Lydia had coped with Jessie at her worst. And here came Adam, hurrying from the barn, probably not too pleased to see Seth. Their lives were tangled together in ways that were impossible to ignore.

  “Do you have news?” Lydia’s eyes betrayed anxiety that she kept out of her voice. Adam, no doubt seeing it as well, moved closer to her.

  “Good news, I think,” Seth said quickly. “Chloe called. She wants to meet you and Adam for lunch. We set it up for Saturday in Oyersburg.”

  “For sure?” Joy bloomed on Lydia’s face, and she clasped her hands together. “That’s wonderful-good news.”

  “What made her change her mind?” Adam’s glance accused Seth.

  “It doesn’t matter. At least she’s coming.” Lydia’s brows puckered. “But . . . why isn’t she visiting us here, at home?”

  “I’m not sure.” Seth skirted the truth. “She seems to prefer a neutral site for your first meeting, and maybe that’s best.”

  “I will finally see my sister.” Lydia squeezed Adam’s hand. “I’m so glad. Aren’t you?”

  In other circumstances, Seth might be tempted to laugh at Adam’s expression. He was clearly torn between supporting his wife and his own inclinations.

  “For sure he’s glad,” Jessie said, surprising Seth. “I have an Englisch brother, so I can tell you. Kin is kin, whether they are Englisch or Amish.”

  There was a little silence after her words. Probably no one had expected such a statement from Jessie, of all people.

  “Jessie is right,” Lydia said softly. “Chloe is my sister first, and Englisch second. We will be glad to welcome her, no matter where we meet.”

  Adam nodded, a bit reluctantly, Seth suspected. He smiled at Jessie. Well done, little sister.

  * * *

  Adam woke sometime in the night, struggling out of a suffocating dream. Lydia had been drifting away from him, her gaze on something he couldn’t see, and as hard as he tried to reach her, her fingers slipped from his. He shuddered, knowing it was a dream but not able to rid himself of the fear, and reached out to Lydia’s side of the bed to touch her.

  Lydia wasn’t there—the sheet was cool to his fingers as if she’d been gone for some time. He shot up in bed, startled and wide awake. Lydia . . .

  He let out his breath in a swoosh of air. Lydia was sitting on the floor by the window, her elbows propped on the sill. She’d opened the window, and the chilly night air made Adam shiver as he slid out of bed.

  Lydia didn’t move. Didn’t she hear him? She stared out at something in the night, and he couldn’t see her face. An odd apprehension touched him. Seeing her this way was like seeing someone he didn’t know at all, and that was a frightening thought.

  Could she be walking in her sleep? “Lydia,” he said softly, moving to her. “What are you doing?”

  She turned to look up at him, her smile dissolving the fear that had gripped him. “I couldn’t sleep,” she said, her voice equally soft, although the boys slept so soundly it was likely nothing short of a siren would wake them. “Look how beautiful the orchard is in the moonlight.”

  He bent, his gaze following the direction of her gesture. Moonlight touched the white blossoms, turning them to silver. It was beautiful. It was also cold.

  “Ja
, pretty. Now come back to bed before you catch a chill.”

  Lydia shook her head, her unbound hair moving like water. “It’s no use. I can’t sleep. But you go back to bed. You need your rest.”

  He surveyed her for a moment and then turned back to the bed. Instead of getting in, he pulled off the double wedding ring quilt and carried it to the window.

  Lydia looked up, startled. “What are you doing?”

  He sat down next to her, draping the quilt around both of them. “If you are wakeful, then I am, too.”

  “Denke, Adam.” She snuggled into the quilt.

  He looked for signs of strain on her face. If she was unable to rest because he couldn’t find a job . . .

  “Are you worrying about something then?”

  She shook her head, a tiny frown creasing her forehead. “I was dreaming about the orchard. I was a little girl, playing among the trees. My mamm was there, and she laughed and swung me around. Susanna chased us, and the baby lay on a quilt in the grass.”

  “Happy thoughts,” he said gently, trying to understand.

  “They’re not memories. Only dreams.” Her voice was choked. “I don’t remember. It seems so wrong that I can’t remember my mother’s face. I’ll never know what she looked like.”

  There was a world of sorrow in her voice, and he hadn’t a notion of how to comfort her. “She was beautiful,” he said finally. “I know, because you are.”

  “Ach, Adam, you always know what to say.” She gave a sound that seemed caught between a laugh and a sob, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

  He wrapped his arms around her, wishing that were true. Instead, it seemed to him that he almost never knew what to say, especially lately. He was like that boy he’d been, so hesitant to speak that everyone else got there first.

  Lydia stirred a little, turning her head to look into his face. “You didn’t say much when Seth brought such good news.”

  “You and Seth did enough talking for all of us.” He tried not to sound harsh, but as far as he was concerned, Seth’s news hadn’t been that good. And he didn’t care for Seth’s continuing presence in their lives. It seemed every day his Lydia was turning to Seth for answers instead of him.

  “I guess I was excited. I wish Chloe would come here, but meeting her in Oyersburg is better than not seeing her at all, ja? Aren’t you happy for me, Adam?”

  “If you’re happy, that’s gut.” He felt as if he were walking on eggs, trying not to break them. But he couldn’t tell Lydia less than the truth. “Having my family involved so much with an Englischer—well, I can’t say I’m pleased, because I’m not.”

  And there they were, right back at the same argument again.

  At least this time Lydia didn’t fly into anger right away. Instead she leaned back against the windowsill, studying his face as if trying to understand.

  “I know that your brother’s jumping the fence hurt you, but that’s no reason to turn against the Englisch. It was Benjamin’s decision.”

  Pain had a stranglehold on his throat. But somehow he had to tell Lydia the thing he’d never told anyone.

  “If I had been a better big bruder, maybe he wouldn’t have gone.” He shook his head, caught in the memories. “I was sorry, once it was too late. I tried to find him.”

  Her eyes widened. “I didn’t know.”

  “No one knew. I didn’t want Mamm and Daad to get their hopes up and then be disappointed. But I was sure that if only I could find Benj, talk to him, I could convince him to return.”

  Lydia was still. Waiting and listening, her gaze fastened on his face.

  “One of his friends finally told me enough that I could locate Benj. He was in Harrisburg, so I went there. I took the bus.”

  “I didn’t know you’d ever gone that far from home.”

  “I didn’t want to. But I had to.” He shook his head. “It seemed hopeless at first, but finally I found him.” Pain choked him, and he had to force the words out. “He was living in an abandoned building. It was awful. Our pigs live in a palace compared to that place. And the people—ragged, dirty, on drugs or alcohol.” He sucked in a breath. “And my brother was one of them.”

  Lydia gave a shocked, pained exclamation. “Adam, how awful for you. Why did you never tell me?”

  He shook his head. “I couldn’t tell anyone, not about seeing Benj like that. I tried to get him to come home with me, but he just laughed at me. Said he’d found the life he wanted, and I should leave him alone.” He blinked, because tears were coming and he never wanted to cry in front of Lydia. “Two weeks later he was dead. A drug overdose, the police told me, though I never told Mamm and Daad that. They think he died from a fall.”

  Lydia touched his face and then drew him close against her, stroking his back and murmuring soothing words as if he were one of the boys. He held on, struggling to regain control.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry. But I don’t see . . .” She let the sentence trail off, as if she didn’t want to press on with it.

  But he had to get all this said while he could. He clasped her shoulders, looking into her face. “You would say that your sister is not like those Englischers, and you are right. But don’t you see why it troubles me? For our boys to grow up with an Englisch aunt, seeing that life, maybe thinking it is good—what will keep them from ending up the way Benj did? I should have kept him safe, and I failed. I have to protect our sons.”

  “I know, I know.” She stroked his cheek. “You take such gut care of us, Adam. But it will be all right. Really, it will.”

  Her comforting touch soothed his sore heart, but it wasn’t enough. Lydia was going to go through with this, and he couldn’t stop her.

  * * *

  Lydia clucked to Gray, the buggy horse, and the mare started obediently up the lane to Mamm and Daad’s farm. She hated feeling out of sorts with Mamm. Maybe today’s visit would smooth things out between them.

  Besides, she had to tell them about meeting with Chloe on Saturday. She couldn’t let them hear it from someone else.

  Mamm would be pleased about it, wouldn’t she? After all, the secret was out now, and there was no putting it back. And Chloe, no matter how different she was because of her Englisch upbringing, was Mamm and Daad’s blood kin just as much as she was.

  Adam . . . well, Adam didn’t understand, and she ought not to blame him. His experience with his brother had been so terrible—she could hardly imagine what it must have cost Adam to see his little brother in that place. Just the fact that Adam had gone told her how much it had meant to him. Harrisburg was less than two hours by bus, but to Adam it had been a different world. Her heart ached for the pain he’d gone through—was still going through. He’d never be done grieving for his brother.

  Why had he never told her about finding Benjamin? It hurt that he hadn’t shared it with her at the time, but it must have been before they’d started seeing each other seriously. Poor Benjamin. And poor Adam, to carry such a burden for his little brother.

  The lane, long and winding, finally drew up to the farmhouse and continued beyond it to the barn and the outbuildings, where it finally petered out. It looked as if Daad had taken advantage of the fine weather to disc the field already, and beyond the old well Mamm’s rhubarb waved its fanlike leaves. Signs of spring, they were, when everything came to life.

  Gray stepped automatically to the hitching rail and stopped, waiting while Lydia climbed down. She clipped a line to the harness, smiling a bit. She never used this hitching rail without remembering Andrew, her four-years-younger brother, running smack into it during a game of catch and knocking himself silly. She’d run to him, sure he’d killed himself, and been so thankful to find him still alive that she’d given him a good shake for scaring her that way.

  What one of those boys didn’t think of to do to himself, another one did. Joshua had fractured his arm falling out of the peach tree, and had broken a branch doing it, while Matthew, the baby, had a scar to this day
from falling out of the pony cart while Joshua was driving it.

  After patting Gray, she headed for the back door. Mamm was already opening it, her smile warm and maybe a bit relieved. She wouldn’t have liked the strain between them any more than Lydia did.

  “Komm, Lydia. I’m wonderful glad to see you.” A warm hug accompanied the words. “Coffee is hot, and I made apple dumplings this morning.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” She wasn’t really hungry, but Mamm wouldn’t be happy unless she ate. “Your rhubarb is coming along fast.”

  “Ja, and the strawberries are close to blossoming. We’ll be eating fresh from the garden before you know it.”

  That was always a landmark in the seasons—the first day Mamm could make a meal with something fresh from the garden. No matter how good something canned or store-bought tasted, it didn’t compare to fresh.

  “I was remembering the day Andrew ran headfirst into that hitching rail. Seems like most of the things I remember about the boys were them hurting themselves.” Lydia shed her bonnet and sweater and took her usual seat at the kitchen table, where Mamm had already set a mug of coffee.

  “Ja, they sure liked to have accidents.” Mamm brought her own coffee and the dumplings, and sat down at the end of the table next to Lydia. “I hope your boys aren’t quite as bad.”

  “Not so far.” Lydia kept a pretty sharp eye on them, with her brothers’ examples in her mind. She stirred sugar into her coffee. “All my memories of growing up are here.”

  Mamm gave her a questioning look. “Ja, well, here is where you grew up.”

  “I hardly remember asking or even wondering about my life before the hospital.” She frowned down at the brew. “It seems funny now. You’d think I’d have been more curious.”

  “We talked about it, your daad and me. We asked the doctors, too. They all said just to answer any questions that you had but not to bring it up if you didn’t.” Mamm reached out to touch Lydia’s hand. “You were such a busy, happy child. We were so relieved to see it after all that time in the hospital.”

  “I understand.” Lydia closed her fingers around Mamm’s hand, seeming to feel the love flowing between them. She tried to imagine what it would be like to see her child lying in the hospital for days on end, but her mind shied away from it. “I’m thinking maybe kinder just accept what they know as natural. And you’re right. I was happy.”