by Marta Perry
“Plenty that are willing to chase him, that’s certain-sure,” Dora said. “As for him being willing to be caught—well, that’s another story.”
“Folks say that he loved Mary Ann so much that he doesn’t want to put anyone in her place.” Susanna hoped she wasn’t saying too much. Dora had never talked so openly before about her son.
A shadow seemed to cross Dora’s face. She was silent for a moment, and then she made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “Folks will say anything,” she said. “You can’t believe half of it.”
“I expect that’s true,” Susanna murmured, not sure what was in Dora’s mind.
“Ach, well, I shouldn’t be jabbering on about his business. We were talking about you, not him.” She reached out to pat Susanna’s hand. “You take all the time you need to adjust to this news. Don’t let anyone rush you.”
“Denke.” It warmed her heart, knowing that Dora understood and supported her.
“And if you wouldn’t mind, just get Nate’s attention and tell him I’ll be ready to leave in about half an hour.”
“Ja, of course.” Susanna stood, using one hand on the chair for balance as she always did. “I’ll let him know.”
And while she was at it, she would do her apologizing. Everything else aside, she couldn’t be on bad terms with her partner’s son.
Nate must have realized she was coming to see him, because he turned away from the folks he was talking to and walked quickly to meet her.
“Is Mamm getting tired?” He glanced toward his mother, a slight frown wrinkling his forehead.
“Not tired, exactly, but she wanted you to know that she’ll be ready to go in about half an hour.” Susanna took a breath, praying for the right words. “I . . . I’m glad to have a chance to speak with you, Nate.”
“Ja?” His gaze rested on her face, and she forced herself to meet his eyes. She had the sense that he knew what she wanted already but wasn’t inclined to make it easy for her.
“I spoke out of turn on Friday, and I’m sorry.” Get the apology out, and the rest should be easier. “It was wonderful kind of you to arrange for my visit to Bishop Mose, and I repaid you poorly by biting your head off the way I did.”
Nate’s reserved expression eased, and something that might have been amusement seemed to tug at his lips. “There I was thinking you were always such a quiet little thing. I didn’t know you had such a temper.”
“I don’t usually let it get the better of me.”
“Maybe you should let it loose once in a while. We wouldn’t want you to explode like an unvented pressure cooker, ain’t so?” The laughter in his voice invited her to join him.
“I . . . I guess not.” She wasn’t sure how to deal with his teasing. “Anyway, I’m sorry you were the target.”
“Maybe you had a point. Maybe I was thinking that having kin here would make you think differently about the shop.” His expression grew more serious, and he studied her face so closely that she could feel the blood rise beneath the skin. “I don’t want to be on bad terms with you, Susanna. All I can say is that I’ll make every effort to settle this business of the shop in a way that satisfies all of us. I can’t say fairer than that, ja?”
Susanna nodded. What else could she do? But she didn’t feel particularly reassured. After all, Nate’s idea of fair might be nothing like hers. Still, it was the best response she was going to get just now, so she’d have to accept it.
* * *
Sunday
evening was time for Chloe’s weekly phone call to her grandmother. She pulled out her cell phone and sat down in the corner of the sofa, sensing a deep reluctance to make the call.
She loved her grandmother. After all, Gran had been the only mother figure she’d ever known. But the revelation that Chloe had two sisters her grandmother had kept secret all those years had put a wedge between them, and Gran’s subsequent implacable opposition to Chloe’s efforts to become acquainted with Lydia and Susanna had turned the wedge into a chasm.
Chloe didn’t understand, maybe would never understand, her grandmother’s attitude. Lydia and Susanna were just as much Margaret Wentworth’s granddaughters as she was, but Gran had wiped them out of her life as if they’d never existed.
Lydia apparently didn’t have any problem forgiving her grandmother’s attitude, but then the concept of forgiving if you would be forgiven was an integral part of Amish faith. Chloe was having far more trouble eliminating her resentment.
Still, she was trying, and making her weekly phone call was part of her effort. Each time she talked with her grandmother, she tried to open Gran’s heart. Maybe one day she’d succeed.
Chloe hit the number and prepared to be conciliatory, even if it killed her. “Hello, Gran. How are you?”
“Fine, as always. Where are you?”
Chloe pressed down the annoyance the question always roused. It was as if Gran conveniently forgot Chloe’s decision to move to Oyersburg for a few months.
“I’m in my little cottage in Oyersburg.” She kept her tone pleasant.
“I hoped you had gotten tired of this whim of yours by now.”
There wasn’t a hint of bending in Gran’s attitude. Chloe could picture her sitting very upright in the Queen Anne chair that was her favorite, every white curl in place, touching the pearls she always wore.
Maybe ignoring the negative was the best course. “I was able to interview two new craftspeople for the paper I’m writing, and I got some excellent photographs. I’ve been thinking that I might be able to work up several journal articles, in addition to the research project.”
“I suppose it’s important that you move on professionally.” Gran’s tone was grudging, but her comment was a step up from her usual attitude about Chloe’s work. “Are you still seeing that man?”
“Seth Miller,” Chloe said, striving for patience. Gran knew the name perfectly well. “We’re . . . friends.” That was as good a description as any, she supposed.
Gran gave a ladylike snort. “He wouldn’t go to so much trouble for you if all he wanted was friendship. He’s smart enough to know which side his bread is buttered on.” She brought out the old cliché with an air that said it proved she was correct in her assumptions about someone she barely knew.
“Seth is successful in his own right,” Chloe contented herself with saying. The fact that Seth wasn’t interested in her prospective inheritance was one thing she was absolutely sure of in their relationship.
Maybe the only thing. All those hints he’d been dropping—about his obligations to his family, about being tired of the travel his job required—were they preliminary to a decision to return to the Amish?
“Chloe? Are you still there?”
Chloe cleared her mind with an effort. “I’m here. I went out to Lydia and Adam’s place for supper today.”
“I’m not interested.” Gran’s reply was automatic.
“I played board games with Daniel and David, since it was raining. Daniel beat me two times out of three.”
“I’m not interested,” Gran repeated.
Chloe’s control slipped. How could Gran not want to know about her two bright, beautiful great-grandchildren?
“Then I suppose you’re not interested to know that I told Susanna that we’re her sisters.”
Silence for a moment. Then . . . “How did she take it?”
Chloe’s heart gave a lurch at the sign of weakening. “She was confused, of course. Upset.”
“Maybe you should have left well enough alone.”
“She had to know the truth, Gran. Just as I did. Lydia and I plan to talk with her again tomorrow.”
“I see.” Gran’s tone had hardened. “When are you coming home?” The question was almost an accusation.
“Not for a while,” Chloe hedged. Maybe she ought to drive down to see her grandmother for a few
days—
“It seems to me that in your enthusiasm for your new family you’re happy to forget the one you already have.”
Before Chloe could respond, her grandmother ended the call. She sat holding the phone between her hands, feeling as if she’d been slapped.
* * *
By
the time she’d picked up Lydia and was driving back toward Oyersburg the next day, Chloe found she was able to think of her grandmother without feeling her stomach clench. She was trying to do her best for both sides of her family, and it wasn’t fair for Gran to make her feel like a tennis ball being batted between them.
“Did you call your grandmother last night?” Lydia asked, almost as if she’d been following Chloe’s thoughts.
“Yes. She’s well.” Chloe hesitated, using the narrow bridge that crossed the Susquehanna as a reason to concentrate on her driving for a moment.
She didn’t want to give Lydia false hope that their mutual grandmother was coming around, but she felt the need to say something encouraging.
“I told her about playing board games with Daniel and David. Honestly, those two are so smart they could beat me every time if I didn’t have a little luck.”
“They’re used to the games, that’s all it is,” Lydia said, with the typical Amish unwillingness to brag about her sons. “You shouldn’t feel as if you have to play with them all the time.”
“I enjoy it.” Chloe smiled, thinking of Daniel’s intent expression as he studied the board. “I love having nephews.”
“And they’re wonderful glad to have you as an aunt.” Lydia seemed to be studying Chloe’s face as they neared the outskirts of Oyersburg. “I think you’re not telling me something about your talk with your grandmother, ain’t so?”
Chloe shrugged ruefully. “You see right through me, don’t you? The truth is that she made me feel as if I’m ignoring her.” In favor of you. The words were unspoken, but Lydia probably guessed those, too.
“We would miss you if you went away,” Lydia said. “But maybe you should pay her a visit. Old people get lonely.”
Chloe didn’t think Gran had ever suffered from loneliness, but maybe that was doing her a disservice. Gran had been trained from birth to hide her emotions, so that now it was second nature. Chloe sometimes wondered if all that suppression had robbed Gran of the ability to feel at all.
“I suppose so, but chances are it’s just a ploy to get me back there, and if so, it’ll end in another argument when I try to leave.”
“The only way you’ll know is to go and see for yourself, ain’t so? Just don’t stay away too long. We’ll miss you. And I know someone else who will miss you, too.”
“If you’re talking about Seth . . .” She needed to air her concerns about Seth to someone, but she wasn’t sure Lydia was the right person.
“Ja, of course, who else? Even Adam has noticed how much attention he pays to you, and my husband is not the noticing kind when it comes to romance.” There was a thread of laughter in Lydia’s voice.
“Maybe Seth just feels responsible for me, because he’s the one who found me for you.” But if that were true, how did she explain the chemistry that sparked each time he touched her? Or the sizzle of that kiss?
“We both know better than that.” Lydia hesitated. “If you don’t want to talk about Seth, I understand. I just can’t help wanting you to be as happy in love as I am.”
“You’re a lucky woman,” Chloe said, buying time to think.
“I am, that’s certain-sure.” Lydia smoothed her hand over her belly in that protective gesture that seemed common to all pregnant women. “But you can be, as well, with the right man.”
That really was the point. “Is Seth right for me? I can’t help wondering if he’ll . . .” She let that trail off, not sure she wanted to verbalize the rest of it.
“If he will what?” Lydia leaned toward her, as if conscious that they were running out of time for this conversation. They’d be at the shop in another few minutes.
“If he’s thinking of becoming Amish again.” There, it was out.
Lydia reached out to touch her arm. “I don’t know what is in Seth’s mind. A few months ago I’d have said such a decision was impossible, and I still think it unlikely. But if he did, would that mean you couldn’t love him?”
Chloe could hear the unspoken longing in her sister’s voice, and it startled her that she’d never realized what was in Lydia’s heart until now. Lydia wanted to see her back in the faith and life into which she’d been born.
Chloe’s throat went tight at the thought of hurting her sister, but she had to speak the truth. Falsehoods had caused enough damage in their lives already.
“I might love him, but I couldn’t marry him.” She fought to keep her voice even. “That would mean becoming Amish.”
“Is that such a bad thing? Our mother did it.”
“She must have been a very special person.” Tears stung Chloe’s eyes, and she blinked them back. “I admire you and the family very much, Lydia, but I know I could never be like you. I’m sorry.”
“Ach, don’t be sorry.” Lydia squeezed her hand and sat back in the seat, watching as Chloe pulled into a parking space a short distance from Susanna’s store. “We love you as you are, and we’re not trying to change you.”
Chloe’s tension began to seep away. Lydia had said possibly the best thing anyone could hear from someone they loved. “Thank you,” she said softly. She turned off the ignition and blotted away a tear that had escaped.
“Okay, that’s enough emotion for one day. We’d better figure out what we’re going to say to Susanna.”
Lydia smiled. “You Englisch, always wanting to plan things out in advance,” she teased. “Why not just see what Susanna is saying and feeling, and go from there?”
“Okay.” She opened the door, stepping out into the street. “We’ll do it your way. If I start moving too fast, you’ll have to step on my foot or something to warn me.”
“You’ll know.” Lydia joined her on the sidewalk, and if there was anything incongruous about the two of them being so different and yet so alike in some ways, it didn’t seem to bother her. “All we can do is pray the way I did that first day I came to Oyersburg to meet my Englisch little sister. That God will open her heart to let us in.”
Chloe nodded, and together they walked to Susanna’s shop.
CHAPTER SIX
Susanna
was giving the shop’s wooden toys a polish in preparation for creating a new display. Much as she appreciated keeping her hands busy, unfortunately the chore gave her mind too much time to wander. Worrying about the future ran counter to her beliefs, but she seemed unable to stop.
It was a relief to hear the bell jingle. She turned, smiling to greet a customer, and her heart gave an unaccustomed jolt. It was Lydia and Chloe. Her sisters.
No matter how many times she repeated that to herself, it didn’t seem real. Surely she should feel something when she saw her blood kin, shouldn’t she?
Lydia looked much as usual with her maroon dress and matching apron, the black bonnet over her kapp hiding her hair. Instead of her usual blue jeans, Chloe wore a pair of tan trousers with a deep green sweater, green earrings dangling from her earlobes. It seemed so unlikely that they could be sisters, and yet seeing them side by side, she couldn’t help but see similarities in their faces. And similar to hers? She wasn’t ready to look for that yet.
“Lydia, Chloe.” She nodded, not sure what to say.
“It’s gut to see you, Susanna.” Lydia’s voice was as soft and friendly as ever as she came to where Susanna had been working at the counter. “All this time it’s wondered me how to tell you, but now you know, and I’m glad.”
It was impossible to doubt anything Lydia said—sincerity shone in her eyes. She was the same person Susanna had known for months, and yet she was differ
ent.
“I talked to Bishop Mose,” Susanna said abruptly. She’d best get this out quickly, before they started trying to convince her again. “He confirmed that the story Chloe told me was the truth.”
“Ja, we heard you had been to see him,” Lydia said. “Not from the bishop,” she added quickly. “He would not discuss your business with anyone else.”
“No, I don’t suppose he would.” Something that might have been anger flickered through her, startling her. She didn’t get angry, did she? “He knew all along.”
“You’re thinking he should have told us. It seemed to me he regretted agreeing to the idea to begin with, but your mamm . . .” Lydia hesitated, as if not sure whether she should go on.
Susanna picked up a small wooden locomotive and began polishing it with unnecessary force. “Go on and say it. You’re blaming my mother for all the secrecy.”
“Nobody’s doing that.” Chloe sounded as if she’d been quiet for as long as she could stand. “After all, my grandmother . . . our grandmother . . . was just as determined that I would never know.” With one of her quick movements, she snatched the cloth from Susanna’s hand. “Please, Susanna. Talk to us.”
“I . . . I have work to do.” It was a pitiful excuse, and all three of them knew it. She felt outnumbered. This relationship was being pushed on her whether she wanted it or not.
“We’ll help, ja?” Lydia removed her bonnet as she spoke, smoothing her brown hair back under her kapp. “Many hands make light work.”
“My mamm always said that.” The memory pierced Susanna’s heart, softening her response to them. “You didn’t know her. She was the sweetest person in the world. She would never have done anything wrong.”
“I don’t suppose any of them thought it was wrong.” Chloe picked up one of the carved wooden dogs, straightening the bow around its neck.
“My adoptive mother, your aunt Anna, told me that your mamm had had several miscarriages and had begun to despair of ever having a child.” Lydia hesitated. “I don’t know if you ever knew that about her.”