chapter
fourteen
It was a rare morning when Adah could sit and tat for an hour. Today she listened carefully as Grace poured out her concerns, her fingers working the tatting shuttle. Adah glanced up for a moment, beginning to feel wrung out. Yet what could she do? It’s too late to change the past.
She sped up, wanting to complete the handkerchief trim to give to her next younger sister for an upcoming birthday. Several other siblings and a good many girl cousins had their birthdays in August and September, too—amongst the People, many birthdays fell in the late summer months and early autumn. Biggest months for birthdays, what with winter calling for warmth . . . and tenderness.
She was silent as she watched Grace gather up the fabric pieces for the dress. “Awful nice of you to help me like this,” she said. “My eyesight being what it is . . . well, I’m just so grateful.”
“No need to thank me, Mammi, with all you do for us.”
Adah worried about Judah and his four with each passing week. “Still, I daresay your family needs you more than ever.”
“Seems so.”
For the life of her, Adah could not understand why Judah had asked Grace to move into her mother’s place at the table. Made no sense to her or to Jakob. It seemed to them that Grace had too much on her shoulders now. Even as a youngster, she’d often been too willing to accept responsibility. Grace was, after all, supposed to have time for courting, but Adah doubted she was seeing anyone anymore. In fact, Grace often headed upstairs for bed even before Mandy.
Each day Adah recognized anew her growing frustration with Lettie, who hadn’t bothered to consult her before embarking on her unreasonable journey. Was she visiting Samuel—telling him about their baby? Adah realized she must never underestimate either Lettie’s grit or her determination.
Grace left the sewing room to go and start the noon meal, and Adah stretched a little before examining her stitching. As she continued her tatting, she wondered why Judah rarely spoke of Lettie—not even to Jakob. Was he just too pained over her leaving? Or was he put out with her?
She’d heard tell from the bishop’s mother-in-law that there’d been a gathering of sorts early Tuesday morning, confirmation of what Jakob had brought to her attention. She’d made a point of finding out more—Lettie was her daughter, after all. As it turned out, the bishop’s wife had kindly taken her into confidence, saying that if the brethren were fixing to slap a probationary shun on Lettie—long-distance, of all things—then Adah certainly had a right to know.
And, according to what Grace had learned from talking to the innkeeper’s wife, Lettie just might be heading to Cousin Hallie’s in Indiana. If so, Adah figured she could easily write a letter of warning to her daughter. On the other hand, if Lettie hadn’t gone there at all, Adah would be setting herself up for a dozen or more questions from too-curious Hallie. I surely don’t want that!
Adah put down her tatting and went to her bedroom to sit on the cane chair near the window. Jakob and Judah had made the lovely chair together the year Lettie and Judah were newlyweds. She was torn, truly, between wishing Judah might be more interested in wanting to search for Lettie . . . and worried that if he did, he might discover his wife’s terrible secret.
So Adah sat there and stewed and pondered and fretted till she had no better idea what to do than when Lettie had first left the family. Still, Adah knew one thing for certain: She felt responsible for the whole jumbled-up mess.
“Two doctors come to mind,” Minnie told Lettie as the rain slowed to a mist. “One’s in Haiti with Christian Aid Ministries. But since he and the other fellow worked together for years in Kidron and Apple Creek, I daresay what one might know about the placement of your baby, the other would, too.”
“Who’s the second doctor?” Lettie was breathless.
“Joshua Hackman. Everyone calls him Dr. Josh.”
“Here, in Ohio?”
Minnie shook her head. “Not anymore. Last I knew, he took over a practice near Nappanee, Indiana.”
Immediately Lettie thought of Cousin Hallie. Then, because Minnie seemed so willing to give answers, Lettie asked the question she’d never breathed to a soul. “Do you know if the couple who adopted my baby was Amish?”
“That would make gut sense, I ’spect. But I wasn’t privy to their identity, although I wouldn’t be surprised if they were local.”
An adoptive mother like May Jaberg, perhaps?
Minnie paused, eyes searching Lettie’s. “I can see this troubles you greatly.”
Lettie willed her pounding heart to slow. “If only I’d specified Amish parents . . . how much easier it would now be to find my child. My daughter.” Her words caught in her throat.
“Have you ever considered that she might not want to be found?” Minnie’s words fell like stones to the ground. “What if she’s not aware of her adoption?” Minnie patted Lettie’s arm. “You might bring heartache, instead of joy, if you go knockin’ on her door.”
Samuel had brought this to her attention, as well, two weeks ago.
Lettie groaned softly. “I must seem awful selfish.”
“Well, you surely feel cheated . . . having missed out on raising your child.” Minnie offered a considerate smile. “But have you seriously considered your daughter in all of this?”
“Searching for her isn’t only for my benefit.” Lettie began to describe how Samuel’s wife had died, leaving him alone and without offspring. “I wanted to somehow make up for keepin’ the truth from him all this time. Wanted to help ease his sorrow . . . with the news of our child.”
“I guess I don’t understand.”
“It’s ever so complicated.” The awkward turn in the conversation embarrassed Lettie further. Minnie seemed to indicate she’d done something wrong in wanting to find her daughter . . . for Samuel’s sake. “I don’t intend to be selfish.” Lettie rose.
Minnie continued to frown, and Lettie felt increasingly chagrined as the seconds ticked by. Then at last, and with a slow breath, Minnie replied, “Turning this situation over to the Lord is the best suggestion I can make.”
“Well, I’ve done that repeatedly . . . all these years.”
Minnie’s expression turned to disbelief. “If I may be so bold, I believe you’re holdin’ on to the past, embracing it longer than necessary,” she said quietly. “Coming before God with hands filled and leaving with them empty . . . that’s relinquishing control.”
Lettie’s lips parted, but she could not speak.
“ ‘ . . . Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word,’ ” Minnie quoted Scripture. “The mother of our Lord Jesus was truly a model of submission.”
And I certainly am not, Lettie thought sadly.
“Ach, since I’m meddling already, I can’t help but wonder if your mother has been a help to you in your struggle with these hidden things.”
Lettie began to cry.
Minnie leaned near. “You’ve never forgiven her, have you?”
“She made me give my baby away,” Lettie sobbed into her hands. “You must surely know she forced me to.”
“You’re not alone. Many girls have been coerced by their parents into doing the same.”
“But you don’t understand. I would’ve brought up my dear baby alone, Minnie. You must believe me.”
Minnie slipped her arm around Lettie. “Let’s stop and pray right now.”
Before she could respond, Minnie had begun to lead out in a plea for divine guidance. “Please direct this precious, brokenhearted child of yours, dear Lord.” She also asked for the will of God to be done, and while she prayed, Lettie thought of how confident she sounded—much more so than Lettie herself had ever been in prayer.
When Minnie finished, her eyes fluttered open, bright with tears.
Lettie said, “I can see why so many young women are drawn to you.”
“I feel called to tend to the poor little lambs, wounded as they’ve been by wrong choices.”
/> “Denki for takin’ time for me, Minnie. Truly.”
The midwife smiled. “Trust the Lord to lead you, Lettie. And I believe when you understand why your mother demanded what she did—for both you and for your child—you’ll be ready to forgive her fully.”
Lettie tensed at her words, unready to wipe away the painful memory even if she could muster up the forgiveness. She had offered it up to God, only to keep taking it back and harboring it—stuck now with the weight of the burden.
“I can’t be more grateful to you.” Lettie rose and walked with Minnie back toward the house.
Minnie looked her way. “You know where I am if you need anything more. Anything at all.”
Lettie made her way to the horse and gave Molly a sugar cube before she untied her. Then from the lane, she waved again to Minnie, who was still standing on the porch steps. Lettie gave the kindly woman a wistful smile. I will long remember this day.
“You can’t mean it, Gracie.” Adam held his frown for several seconds as he poured himself a glass of water before the noon meal. Then his solemn expression turned to a half smile. “I really hope you’re pullin’ my leg.”
“No, seriously, we can use some of my money from Eli’s to catch a train or a bus . . . or even hire Martin Puckett to drive us,” Grace replied.
“I s’pose you think we’ll bring Mamma right back?”
She brightened. “Why not?”
“Well, you aren’t thinkin’ straight. Ya can’t just go out there hopin’ to run into Mamma. Besides, what if you do find her and she doesn’t want to come home? What then? It’d break your heart all over again.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that.
“The lambs are comin’ on fast, in twos some days. It’s a terrible idea to leave now.” Adam pressed his straw hat down on his head. “Besides, I promised Priscilla I’d take her to the next work frolic with a bunch of other couples from our district.”
Grace smirked. “Well, I s’pose Prissy wouldn’t like it much if you went off lookin’ for Mamma, jah?”
“Well, say what ya want, but she’s awful concerned ’bout Mamma goin’ missing,” Adam replied.
“Maybe too concerned?”
Adam’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Mamma’s absence didn’t seem to bother Henry much at all,” she ventured.
Adam frowned. “Maybe if you’d stayed put with him, you would’ve found out what he really thinks.”
“Ach, you know as well as I do that Henry has trouble opening his mouth.”
“But you hardly gave him a chance.” He grimaced. “According to Prissy, he talks a-plenty.”
Just not to me . . .
Adam went on. “Henry’s not the only one hurt over it. Prissy had high hopes for the four of us being extra-close family.”
She knew that, all right. “But I’ll still be her sister-in-law, even not marryin’ Henry, if you go ahead with your wedding plans to her,” she said. “Besides, are you sayin’ it didn’t matter that Henry and I weren’t right for each other? That Prissy just wanted me to go ahead with a bad match?”
“Maybe you—”
“No, really. Is your sweetheart that thickheaded?” Immediately, she regretted saying it.
“Well, this is goin’ nowhere, and mighty fast. And it ain’t becomin’ of you, Grace.”
She felt bad—she hadn’t meant to insult her closest brother’s fiancée, but she found Prissy’s meddling unbearable. “Aw, Adam . . .”
He raised his glass to his lips, emptying it all in a rush. Wiping his mouth on the back of his shirtsleeve, he said, “And another thing, too: It’s obvious Joe’s pushin’ Yonnie off on you.”
She’d hoped this wouldn’t come up, especially now.
“Dat too.” Adam frowned, catching her eye. “Mind you, Grace, I’ve nothin’ against Yonnie, but if you accept him as a beau so soon after Henry, you’re as fickle as Prissy says.”
“You best be gettin’ back to work,” she suggested to keep the discussion from escalating further. Then, to try to smooth things over, she asked, “Would ya want a thermos of cold water to take along?”
His face was devoid of expression. “Sure, sister.”
She hurried to open the cupboard beneath the sink and reached for the thermos, then ran the faucet, waiting for the cold water. “So . . . will Yonnie be stayin’ for dinner again today?”
Adam peered out the screen door, his back to her. “What’s a-matter? Does Yonnie talk too much for ya?” He chuckled and reached for the thermos before heading outside.
Relieved, Grace watched him go.
When Lettie passed the white house with the dark green shutters, she hurried the horse to a town trot. It wasn’t until she’d made the turn past the dreaded corner that she began to feel calmer again. But the strain she’d experienced was far less than the turmoil inside her. Truth was, she carried around the burden of not only guilt but of self-centeredness, just as Minnie had so sympathetically pointed out. What if Lettie’s first daughter was content with her adoptive family?
Do I want to upset her security for my own happiness? Or for Samuel’s?
The idea her child might not have been adopted into an Amish home upset her as she rode back to Susan’s. The springtime breeze blew right into the front of the carriage, against her bare feet.
Thinking of chillier weather, she recalled a dreary and cold November Sisters Day a few years ago. She and her friend Sally Smucker had each taken their mothers to bake dozens of loaves of bread and pies at the bishop’s wife’s house. It was the start of wedding season, and the day was so cold Lettie had placed several hot bricks on the floor of Judah’s carriage before piling heavy woolen lap robes on top of them. “Enough to weigh us down to nothing,” Mamm had said with a hearty laugh.
But the thing that stuck out in Lettie’s memory was all the chatter among the women about an Amish couple waiting to adopt an infant. Her ears were antennas, and Mamm had glanced her way several times, till Lettie refused to look back. Oh, but the sting of loss had flown right back into her tender heart.
She refocused her attention on the road leading to Susan Kempf. By the time she arrived and unhitched Molly, then led her back to the barn, Susan was standing on the back stoop, waving.
Lettie looked at the sun’s position, wishing she could simply snap her fingers and renew the past. If only wishful thinking could undo her failings. My unwise choices . . . my sin.
Hurrying across the yard, she could not forget Minnie’s disquieting remarks. When I understand why Mamm did what she did, Lettie thought, then I’ll forgive her.
She brushed away the morning’s visit while Susan carried the food to the table. Making her way to the sink, Lettie reached for the bar of homemade soap, wishing with all of her heart she could not only immerse her hands but bathe her soul, as well.
chapter
fifteen
Grace stuck her pointer finger beneath her Kapp to scratch her head. She momentarily turned her back to Mandy to watch Yonnie return to the barn with Adam and Joe after dinner. He’d had a toothpick in his mouth when he’d caught her eye and smiled broadly before leaving through the kitchen door with her brothers. Now he fiddled with it as he walked, talking especially to Adam. Together, they heaved open the barn door and disappeared inside, Joe following behind.
Mandy interrupted her thoughts. “Do you want to wash or dry?”
“I’ll dry.” Quickly Grace went to gather up all the dirty utensils left scattered around the table. Despite what he’d said, it was hard to understand why Yonnie was hanging around all day. Was Dat paying him to help, or was he volunteering?
Just then Mamma’s place at the table caught her eye, the seat Grace had so timidly claimed. She’d wondered while serving and eating her dinner of fried salmon patties, mashed potatoes, and coconut squash what Yonnie thought of it. Had he even recognized what she’d done? As unconventional as his family was, perhaps he didn’t realize there was a seat
ing arrangement at their table.
And why should I care what he thinks?
“You comin’ to my room again tonight to pray for Mamma?” asked Mandy as she dipped two plates in the hot rinse water.
“Sure.”
Mandy was silent for a moment as she went on washing one plate after another. Then she said more quietly, “Do you think prayer changes the Lord’s mind ’bout things?”
Grace straightened a bit. “I only know what the Scripture says: We’re called to pray for God’s will to be done on earth as it is in heaven. You remember the Lord’s Prayer?”
“But isn’t God’s will goin’ to be done no matter what?”
Grace pondered that. “I ’spect if we knew such hard answers, we might consider ourselves equal with our heavenly Father. And you know what happened to one so-and-so who got all puffed up with pride like that.”
“Jah, pride goeth before a fall.”
Grace gathered up a handful of clean utensils and laid them out to air-dry on the table as Mandy hummed a church hymn behind her, seemingly content with her sister’s answer.
Glancing out the window now, Grace saw a young woman and a middle-aged man walking along the road toward the Spanglers’. She moved closer to the window and realized it was Heather Nelson walking with an Englischer about Dat’s age. “Wait just a minute, Mandy.” Grace tossed the tea towel on the table and ran out the door.
It was a warm, bright day, the kind she liked to go wading in Mill Creek, across the road. But now she stood barefoot in the driveway, waving. “Heather . . . is that you?” she called, hoping it was indeed her new friend. The slender girl tugged gently at the man’s wrist, and they began to walk up the driveway toward Grace.
Despite her initial exuberance, Grace felt suddenly shy in the presence of this clean-shaven man in dark blue jeans and a pale blue shirt, sleeves rolled up. Up close, he looked older than Dat—early to mid-fifties, she guessed—with hair and eyes nearly the same color as Heather’s. He radiated poise and well-being.
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