by Marta Perry
“No one knew. That was the only way it could have happened, you see. We were far from home, and no one knew us there.” Daad’s face was drawn with fatigue and strain.
Aunt Jessie spoke. “Let me,” she said, and Daad nodded.
“There was a note in the basket with you. It said to please take you for their own. That the birth mother couldn’t take care of you, but when she saw them, she knew they’d love and care for you.” She shook her head slowly. “I can scarcely believe it happened, looking back. But when your Daad and Mamm got to me, they had a baby. Your mamm... I don’t think she could have survived if you’d been taken away.”
“She picked us,” Mamm said. “The baby’s mother. She picked us to have her baby to love. And we did.” She got up suddenly and went toward the stairs. Joanna started to go after her, but Daad caught her hand and drew her back to her chair.
“I know what she’s getting. It’s all right.”
“We were wrong to make that decision,” Aunt Jessie said, with a quick glance to be sure Mamm was out of earshot. “At least where the law was concerned. We struggled with it. But if we tried to take you away, I feared what would happen. Your daad and I decided we would live with it, for your mother’s sake.” She hesitated, emotion showing in her face. “And yours, too. You were loved with us. We wouldn’t send you back to a woman who gave you up, even if the police could have found her. She’d said she couldn’t take care of you. And they might have put you in a foster home, or an institution. How could we let that happen?”
Joanna knew she ought to be appalled by what she was hearing, but in her numbed state she could see exactly how it had happened. That poor, desperate young mother, not knowing where to turn, finding the very people who were willing and longing to be her child’s parents. She understood. Now what was she to do?
For an instant she wished she could erase the first step that had led to this moment. If the stranger had never come to her door, if Noah hadn’t seen a resemblance, if she hadn’t gone to the hospital...
Before she could find a word to say, Mamm was back. She held something in her hand, clutched against her breast. When she reached the table, she put it down in front of Joanna.
“There. It was in the basket with you.”
The object glistened in the yellow glow of the lamp. It was a fine gold chain, so short it could only have been worn by a child. From it hung a tiny gold heart. She touched it lightly, struggling to understand.
A gift from her birth mother? Her heart winced at the thought.
“I couldn’t give it to you,” her mother said, “but I couldn’t throw it away.”
She met her mother’s gaze and found it filled with love and a kind of desperate longing.
Joanna couldn’t stand it. She leaned close, wrapping her arms around her mother, feeling Mamm’s tears soak into the fabric of her dress.
“It’s all right, Mammi. Don’t cry. I love you.”
But the words didn’t seem to quiet her. Her body shook with racking sobs that were frightening to hear.
Aunt Jessie was there in an instant. “Ach, now, I feared that would happen.” She took her sister from Joanna’s helpless grasp, and her eyes met Joanna’s. “Don’t worry. She just needs to be quiet. You go on home, and I’ll take care of her. I’ll stay the night. She’ll be all right in the morning.”
Before Joanna could open her mouth to protest, Jessie had taken her mother toward the stairs. She started to go after them, but Daad caught her, shaking his head. “Jessie’s right. She knew your mamm would take it hard, but she understands how to care for her.”
“I can’t just do nothing.” She nearly cried the words. “I should go to her.”
“It’s better this way. Really, it is.” Daad’s face looked as if he’d aged ten years in the past hour. “Jessie knows what to do, and if your mamm sees you now, when she’s so upset, she’ll just keep trying to explain. The best thing is for you to go home now and talk to her tomorrow.”
“I can’t,” she protested. But then she saw that Daad was hanging on to his calmness by a thread.
“Komm, now. You must go before it’s any later.” She let herself be walked out to the buggy, her thoughts in such turmoil that the chill evening air was like a dash of water in her face. She had to think—had to absorb what she’d heard and try to untangle it all.
Daad stopped in the moment of handing her up into the buggy. “Ach, what am I thinking? You shouldn’t be going alone this late. I’ll drive you home. One of your brothers can bring your buggy back tomorrow.”
“No, don’t.” She grasped the seat, needing to hold on to something solid. “I’m not afraid to drive home. You...you should go to Mammi. I’ll be all right. Honestly. It’s not far.”
His face tightened, and he kept his hand on the buggy seat. “You are angry. You think we should have told you before.”
She started to deny it and then realized that part of what she felt was indeed anger. “No... Well, I guess a little. How could you keep it a secret from me my whole life?” The question came out filled with hurt. How could they? But she grasped at her anger, pushing it down. Daad was hurting, as well. They all were.
“We talked about it, so many times. But your mamm—she couldn’t...” His voice roughened. “It was my decision. Blame me if you must blame.”
That was Daad. The knowledge pierced the cloud of confusion, doubt and anger. Daad would always take the blame on himself rather than see someone else be hurt.
She should say something, but she didn’t know what. There were decisions to be made, she supposed, but nothing should be decided in the heat of the moment. She had to have time to think about all of it. Not just about what Daad and Mammi and the faceless woman who bore her had done, but about what it meant to her. When she’d thought about her birth mother, she’d always had a vague image in her mind of a young Amish girl, someone much like her at eighteen or nineteen. A relative, someone connected by blood, someone part of the spreading tree that was Amish people. Now she had to forget all of that and adjust to being someone else entirely.
She could barely believe that Daad, so righteous and honest, and Aunt Jessie, always clearheaded and practical, had kept the secret all these years. But Mamm—Mamm was easier to understand. Mamm was afraid of losing her.
And she couldn’t promise that wouldn’t happen. How could she promise anything, when she didn’t know who she was?
CHAPTER SIX
THE DRIVE BACK to the shop passed in a blur. It was a good thing Princess knew the way, because Joanna found herself unable to concentrate on anything. Why couldn’t she put her practical common sense to work? Problems always had solutions. But she couldn’t even focus on any one aspect of what she’d heard tonight. If she’d been picked up by a tornado and set down miles from home, she couldn’t be more disoriented.
Thank the good Lord that Aunt Jessie had decided to stay with Mamm tonight. If she’d been sitting next to her in the buggy, she’d have wanted to talk, and Joanna felt as if she’d scream at the prospect.
She’d reached the outskirts of town, passing the greenhouses on her left and heading on down Main Street.
Princess turned automatically into the alley when they reached it. When her family had bought the buggy horse for her, Daad had pointed out that Princess was hardly the right name for an Amish buggy horse. But unlike most horses, who didn’t care what they were called as long as they were fed and cared for, this mare had a definite opinion. If called anything else, she turned a deaf ear, so Princess she had stayed.
The new lights came on, showing her the area, and she drove directly to the stable. Princess seemed to share her desire for speed, and in a few minutes, she was in her stall, munching contentedly on her oats. Joanna hung up the harness automatically, switched off the battery light in the stable and started toward the back door.
And stopped. The back door hung
open, and she could see the damage to the lock from where she stood. Her heart pounded, her breath caught and for an instant she stood frozen, staring at the door. She had to do something. No lights were on in the hardware store, so Noah wasn’t there to rush to for help. She didn’t dare try to reach the phone in the shop. The intruder might be in there.
Softly, fearing he might hear the slightest sound, Joanna crept back to the alley, the movement taking her beyond the range of the lights. The alley lay dark between her and the streetlamps out on Main Street, but she’d have to go that way to get to lights and help.
Joanna glanced back toward the stable. It looked like a sanctuary, but it could just as easily be a trap. If the intruder saw her...
He was probably already gone, she assured herself. He’d have heard the horse and buggy arrive and slipped out.
But what if he hadn’t? What if he was waiting for her? She seemed to see her visitor being struck down on the stairs. No, she couldn’t risk going in.
Steeling herself, she stepped into the alley, moving from the light into the dark. Shadows seemed to lurk in the darkness on either side of her. Someone could be there, hidden where she couldn’t see.
She fingered the penlight she clutched. If she switched it on, she could see. But anyone who was watching would be able to see her, too. That was even more frightening. The shadows seemed to grow even denser as she went on. She was torn between running to get there faster and creeping so that she wouldn’t give away her presence.
But if someone was still inside, he’d know she was there—he’d surely have seen the lights go on. Stricken with panic at the thought, she spurted toward the street, dashing out of the alley into the light. Streetlights glowed, but Main Street was silent, the businesses closed, except—
The coffee shop—it was open. She darted across the street, racing toward the welcoming lights of Miller’s Bakery and Coffee Shop. Etta Miller stayed open later than anyone else in town, pointing out that people wanted coffee and sweet rolls at any hour.
Reaching the shop, Joanna yanked the door open and stumbled inside, welcoming the sound of the bell that announced her. Etta appeared behind the counter, took one look at her and came hurrying to put an arm around her.
“Joanna, whatever is it? Are you sick?” Etta’s rosy, round face seemed for a moment to be getting larger and larger.
Joanna shook her head, brushing off the momentary dizziness and grateful that Etta was alone. “I’m all right, but someone has broken into our place. I have to call the police.”
“Ach, that’s bad.” Etta seized the phone, punching in 911. As a Mennonite, she didn’t have any compunction over using the phone, unlike Aunt Jessie, who always wanted to be certain sure that any call made on their phone was business.
Etta thrust the phone into her hand, and it took only moments to gasp out the facts—coming home alone, finding the back door broken in. Someone would be right there, the dispatcher said. The command not to go inside until they came was really not necessary. Nothing would induce Joanna to go in until she knew it was safe.
As soon as she hung up, Etta grasped her arm. “It will be all right now. I just hope they didn’t cause a lot of damage. You sit and I’ll bring you coffee.”
She was already shaking her head. “Denke, Etta, but the woman said to wait outside for them.”
Etta looked reluctant to let go. “All right, but you stay right there where I can see you. Is there anyone you want me to call? Your mamm and daad?”
She couldn’t say no fast enough. “Don’t call them, whatever you do. Mamm is sick tonight so Aunt Jessie is staying with her. A call at this hour would make things worse.”
That might not have entirely made sense, but Etta seemed to accept it. Eager now to be outside when the police came, Joanna hurried out, crossing the street again to stand right under the streetlamp.
The lights were still off in Noah’s store, making her wonder if the thief might have been in there, as well. She looked through the plate-glass window, but it was too dark to see if anything was amiss. Should she check the door?
She hung back, almost afraid to find something else wrong, and the police car pulled up, making the decision for her. The officer who jumped out was the same young man who’d come before, and he strode toward her, switching on a powerful flashlight.
“Now, you stay well away, miss. I’ll go around back and check on the break-in site. Chief Jamison is on the way, so don’t you come any closer until one of us tells you to.”
Not waiting for an answer, he jogged toward the alley as if eager to find trouble. Joanna pulled her sweater more tightly around her and tried to ignore the chilly air. Now that the police were in charge, her fear had gone, but it was almost as bad to stand there and wonder what damage had been done.
Fortunately, before she could picture the apartment trashed, the display quilts slashed to ribbons, and the bolts of material splashed with paint, Etta Miller appeared with a thermos and a bag containing cups, spoons and sugar.
“Now you’ll have some coffee to warm you up, and it’ll be here for the police, if they want it. And I’ll keep you company in the meantime.”
She wrapped her fingers gratefully around the cup Etta handed her and accepted sugar. “It’s wonderful gut of you, Etta. But you must want to get home to your husband.”
“Fred? He’s watching from the bedroom window upstairs right now. He’d be upset if I didn’t stay here with you. Besides, he’ll want to hear all about it.”
Joanna had to smile at that. Fred Miller didn’t mind everyone knowing that he was a walking encyclopedia of everything that happened in town—better than the newspaper, he claimed.
Etta seemed to echo the thought. “He’ll probably be dressed and out in a minute. It’s the most exciting thing that’s happened all month. I hope it’s not vandals. I’d much rather lose money than have my place damaged.”
Joanna shivered. “That’s just what I was thinking, too. I have no idea. I just saw that the back door was broken and came running to your place.”
“Much the best thing you could do, that’s certain sure.” Etta sipped at her own coffee. “I’m so sorry to hear your mother is sick.”
Etta’s expression was an invitation for her to confide in her, something she certainly wasn’t going to do.
“I wanted to stay, because Daad and the boys are no use when Mamm doesn’t feel well, but Aunt Jessie said Mamm would be more likely to stay in bed and listen to her big sister than to her daughter.”
Daughter. She repeated the word to herself. She wasn’t Mamm’s daughter, not really. Still, she’d grown up knowing she was adopted, and she’d...
The knowledge hit her. She couldn’t possibly be adopted, not legally. Mamm and Daad wouldn’t have dared to attempt it, because they’d have to present papers they didn’t have.
She pressed her fingers to her head, wishing that Etta would stop watching her. If she could talk this all out with someone who wasn’t family...but that someone couldn’t possibly be Etta, who helped Fred collect and distribute gossip every day along with her crullers and coffee.
Before Etta could embark on another attempt to gather information, Chief Jamison pulled up in his car. The doors opened, and she realized he had Noah with him.
A ridiculous surge of pleasure went through her at the sight, and she scolded herself. There was nothing to smile about at this point, and she should be focused on Chief Jamison, not Noah. But when Noah came quickly to her side, he brought reassurance with him, and when he caught her hand and squeezed it, she felt a rush of gratitude for his friendship.
* * *
JOANNA WAS CLEARLY rattled by the break-in, and Noah longed to continue holding her hand, but he saw Etta Miller watching them, and knew he shouldn’t. So he let go of her hand, but continued to stand close to her, wishing he could do more.
“Are you all right?” He
kept his voice low, not wanting to share their conversation with Etta or the chief.
She nodded, trying to force a smile and not succeeding. “No one was in the hardware store, so I had to go over to Etta’s for help.”
He felt instantly guilty. “I wish I’d been here. Sorry.”
“Ach, don’t think that. How did you come to be with Chief Jamison?”
“He came by the house to let me know about the break-in. He figured if your shop had been robbed, most likely mine was, as well.”
The chief was having a low-voiced conversation with his officer, watched intently by Etta, and then they both went around to the back. “I wish they’d let us go in to see what damage has been done,” Joanna fretted.
“We’ll know soon enough,” he said, mentally calculating how much money he’d left in the shop.
“They’ll be wanting to check for fingerprints and all that.” Etta inserted herself into the conversation. “They won’t want you in there until they’re finished.”
“I hope they hurry.” Joanna rubbed her arms, probably chilled in the night air. If he’d come in his buggy, he’d have a blanket in the back.
He glanced at Etta. “I think Joanna is cold. Would you have a sweater or a blanket handy?”
“Ach, yah. What am I thinking?” She headed back across the street, moving lightly for someone who weighed what she must. “Be right back.”
“I don’t need...” Joanna began.
“Yah, you do.” His lips quirked. “I don’t think your independence is damaged by accepting help when someone wants to offer it. Ain’t so?”
Her returning smile was rueful. “I’m not that prickly, am I? Okay, I am a little chilly. Or maybe just upset.”
“Some of each,” he said, his attention distracted by the movement of a flashlight inside his store. “Where’s your aunt? Wasn’t she home tonight?”
Oddly, Joanna actually lost color at the question. “No, she...she’s at the farm. I just came from there, but Mamm wasn’t feeling well, so Aunt Jessie decided to stay with her.”