by Marta Perry
Silence. She saw in her mother’s face the longing to agree. Then Mamm shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said again, as if she couldn’t find any other words. “They were injured, but they healed. Like you. They went with different families, and since you didn’t remember, it seemed best not to tell you.”
“Best not to tell me?” Lydia’s voice rose as anger swept away the pain. “How could it be best for me not to know that I had two little sisters? Why were we split up? Why didn’t you take all of us? Why?”
“Lydia, hush.” Mamm touched her arm, but Lydia pulled away. “You have to understand how difficult it was. There were your parents dying and the three of you in different hospitals, and the rest of the family trying to manage—” Tears spilled over onto Mamm’s cheeks. “Just sit down and calm yourself. Your daad will be home soon. He can explain.”
Mamm reached for her. Lydia wanted to step into her mamm’s loving arms, feel the comfort that had always been there. She wanted to hear Daad’s deep, soothing voice chasing her fears away.
Her breath seemed to catch in her throat. She had relied on them always, just as Daniel and David relied on her and Adam. Now it seemed she couldn’t trust them at all.
“I can’t.” Tears threatened to clog her voice, but she wouldn’t let them flow. “The boys will be home from school. I must be there for them. We’ll have to talk later.”
Tears nearly blinded her, but her feet knew the way to the back door without the need to look. She was vaguely aware of Mamm’s voice, protesting, urging her to stay, but she couldn’t. She had to think this through. She had to talk to someone she knew she could trust.
She had to go home to Adam. Adam was her rock. He would know what to do.