“I am sure.” She was so nervous, even the thought of swallowing water made her feel ill.
After taking a long drink, and an even longer glance her way, Walker took a seat and texted someone on his phone.
She folded her arms over her chest and tried to look calm.
Then, as the clock overhead ticked slowly, she gave up and tried to just breathe.
Time went by slowly.
After thirty minutes Marianne hadn’t returned. Walker finally spoke. “You all right, Lydia?”
“Oh, sure.”
“Really?”
“Nee. But I wanted this, and I will get answers eventually.”
She looked worriedly at the closed door, then at the clock. “Why do you think it’s taking so long?”
“No telling.”
“What if she can’t find my records? What if there’s a problem?”
“I doubt that’s what happened. You know how things go. I bet she got called to the phone or something. She seems pretty busy.”
“I suppose.” But still, every minute that passed felt like two hours.
After another fifteen minutes, she blurted, “Walker, what if she found out something terrible?”
“Then we’ll deal with it. But no matter what, we’ll find out the truth, right? That’s why we’re here.”
Lydia bit her lip and tried not to tap her foot.
Walker must have noticed her uneasiness. He held out his hand. “Want my hand?”
“You think that will fix things?”
His lips curved up slightly. “No, but it might make waiting easier.”
She slid her palm into his and enjoyed the way his covered hers completely. Making her feel protected, like part of a set. Seeking to lighten the mood, she joked, “Of course, this doesn’t mean there’s anything going on between us.”
“Good. Because, you know, I’m not looking for a girlfriend.”
“And I’m still not looking for a boyfriend.” She almost smiled.
“Glad we’re clear on that.” He was prevented from saying anything else when the door opened and Marianne stepped through.
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” she said. “I had a bit of a problem looking for your paperwork.”
Oh, but she’d known that something was wrong. “Why?”
“Your situation, I mean, the way your adoption was handled . . . it went a little different than most here.”
“Why is that?” Lydia didn’t like to think that she’d started life in a mysterious way.
Marianne exhaled. “Because there were extenuating circumstances about the woman who gave birth to you.” She paused again.
“Can you just tell us?” Walker asked. “Lydia’s about to go crazy.”
“I just want to know the truth.”
“I understand.” Sitting down, Marianne handed Lydia a folder. “Your mother was in poor health when she delivered you. She had a disease, multiple sclerosis. From what the records say, she’d been warned to not have children.”
“Multiple Sclerosis? What’s that?”
“M.S. affects the ability of nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord to communicate with each other effectively. Severe cases can be debilitating.”
Lydia felt completely unnerved. Never had she imagined that her real mother had had medical problems. “What happened to her?”
“After she gave birth to you, from what I understand, her health took a turn for the worse. She and her husband were worried that she wouldn’t ever be able to take care of a baby, let alone herself. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to walk, or do much, I suppose.”
“So that’s why they gave me up?”
Marianne looked at her solemnly. “I can’t speak for them, but it looks like they gave you up because they knew you’d never really have a mother if you stayed with your birth mom. Records say she passed away just six months after giving birth to you.”
“Oh, my goodness!” Lydia felt a deep stab of pain in her heart. How could it hurt so much to lose someone she didn’t even know?
The director sighed, then continued, obviously taking care to keep her voice professional and clinical. “In addition, your father was worried that he wouldn’t be able to take care of a baby when he was mourning his wife. They were older, you see.”
Lydia shook her head. She had imagined a teen pregnancy. Or a mother on drugs. Or a hundred different scenarios. Not this.
“Were my parents Amish or English?” she asked.
Marianne smiled slightly. “I’m afraid I didn’t read that far. But everything you need to know is in that folder. Take as much time as you two need to read through everything. When you’re ready to leave, please leave the folder with the receptionist.” After a pause, she held out her hand. “Good luck to you, dear. And may God be with you.”
Lydia shook her hand. “Thank you. And thank you for this.”
When they were alone, Lydia sat next to Walker on the couch and read through the faded paperwork by his side. Her birth mother had been forty-five years old. Not too terribly old to have a baby now, but twenty years ago it would have been out of the ordinary.
They’d lived in Erie, Pennsylvania.
And under religious affiliation, it was blank.
With a sense of doom, Lydia felt more befuddled than ever before.
Now she understood what the director had been trying to say. Expectations rarely ever matched the reality. Perry taught her that.
If only she’d remembered.
Detective, would you still care for breakfast this morning?” Frannie asked.
He’d slept late after being up most of the evening, going through all the notes from the investigation.
And now, of course, his ever-present host was checking up on him. Again. And looking at him like he was a child in need of discipline. “Did you save me anything?”
“I did. Nothing too much. Just fruit and a bagel. And a turkey sandwich for later.”
“That’s all, huh?” He smiled, suddenly glad she’d been keeping tabs on him. “Frannie, I swear, you’re like the sister I never had.”
Her brow furrowed. “Surely not. It’s simply that I’m starting to understand what you like.”
“Do you have a moment to sit with me?”
“I have to work, Mr. Reynolds.”
“I know. But I need to speak with you about something.”
Gingerly, Frannie approached the table and sat across from him. “Is there a problem?”
“Maybe.” With effort, Luke finally asked the question he’d been meaning to, but did his best to try to sound as frank and nonjudgmental as he could. “Frannie, you never told me that you knew Perry Borntrager.”
“You never asked.”
“That’s hardly fair. You know I’m here to investigate his death. You’ve deliberately been keeping information from me,” he added, finally giving up on his hope to stay calm, cool, and collected. “Were you seeing him?”
“For a time, I suppose I was.”
“And what happened?”
“We discovered that we didn’t suit.”
“How did you decide that? What happened?”
She paled. “What happened between Perry and me did not bring about his death.”
“I didn’t mean to insinuate that. But can you let me know when you became involved?”
“Officer, I don’t think it’s important—”
“Frannie, please,” he snapped. “It’s important to the investigation. When did you see him last?”
She swallowed hard. “On December thirtieth.”
Finally, they were getting somewhere! “Where were you?”
“At the Schrocks’ store. He was in the front, walking with his sister. I didn’t speak to him much, though,” she said quickly. “None of us did.”
He stilled. “ ‘None of us’? Who was there?”
She looked down at her hands. “Lydia Plank, Walker Anderson, Jacob, of course.”
“Jacob?”
“Jacob
Schrock.” After a pause, she said, “Jacob, then Perry and Deborah, his sister. My friend Beth. And me.”
Luke struggled to hide his surprise. So many people had seen Perry the day before New Year’s and Frannie was the first one to tell him about it? “What did Perry say? What did you say to him?”
She looked away. “I don’t remember.”
“Frannie, I’m not playing a game.”
Her eyes looked troubled. “I didn’t think you were. I just have no more information for you. I’m afraid I cannot help you anymore, Luke.” And with that, she turned away from him and walked to the kitchen.
Though he wasn’t invited to follow, he did. Then tried another tack. “Don’t you want to make sure justice is served for Perry?”
“It already has been served. Perry is gone, and he’s having to visit with St. Peter up at the gates of heaven for his sins. God doesn’t need my help in that area.”
“I do, though . . .”
“Please excuse me. I’ve got to go get another room ready.”
“We’re not finished with this conversation.”
“Yes, we are. You might be a paying guest, but you’re still a guest in my home. Don’t forget that.”
“Then I think it’s time I stayed someplace else.”
“Truly?” She turned on her heel, looking so taken aback and disappointed, he almost changed his mind. But now that he realized that she, too, had been one of the last people to see Perry, he needed to maintain some space from her.
He couldn’t pretend her evasiveness was okay. “I’ll get my things and leave within the hour.”
“Where will you go?”
He didn’t know. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll find someplace. Look—I understand that you’re afraid. You’re either afraid of something you’ve done or something you know.”
Her cheeks flushed as her lips parted. After she swallowed, she said, “Will I see you again?”
“Oh, I’ll be seeing you. Don’t worry about that.”
Chapter 23
“Why does anyone do what they do? Only the Lord knows for sure. Besides, it’s better to make new mistakes than to repeat old ones.”
AARON SCHROCK
As they pulled out of the parking lot, the enormity of what had just happened hit her. Lydia felt completely crushed. “This is everything I feared would happen, Walker. I didn’t think it was possible, but I feel even worse than I did before.”
“I know it’s hard to hear, but at least now you know your birth parents obviously cared a lot about you, Lydia. It’s understandable why your dad was worried about raising you by himself.”
“I just hoped that I’d get better news, that’s all.”
“What would have been good news?”
She bit her lip, then spoke. “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to know whether my parents were Amish. I had half-convinced myself that if the papers said ‘Methodist’ or ‘Baptist,’ my decision would be made. I’d known whether I was supposed to be Amish or not.”
He darted a look her way. “You’d consider being English if your birth parents were that way?”
“Yes.”
He chuckled. “Well, I guess you’re stuck living like the rest of us then. You’re going to have to figure things out on your own.”
She frowned. “I thought you understood how I felt.”
“I understand that you were hurt by your parents keeping secrets from you. And, I understand why you want to know more about your past.”
“But you don’t understand my need to know their religion?”
“I do . . . but then I don’t, too. A person’s faith is a personal thing, right? I don’t know if knowing what your birth parents believed would make your decisions right now any easier.”
“Walker, I thought you were on my side.”
“I thought you should find out about your birth parents,” he corrected. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to give you my opinion.”
“I see.”
It was obvious she was irritated with him. Well, he was starting to feel irritated, too. Over the past few weeks, he’d listened to her complain and worry. Today, he’d taken time off school to drive her to the agency and had spent the last few hours trying to be supportive. But instead of being grateful, she was finding something new to be upset about.
“Lydia, I think you should make the choice about being Amish or English on your own.”
“I don’t think there’s much of a decision to make anymore.”
“Why do you say that?”
“If I was born Amish and was raised Amish, then I’m going to need to stay Amish. But if I’m going to not leave the order, then that means that we shouldn’t spend any more time together.”
“Are you saying I was your backup plan?” He didn’t even try to hide his contempt for her reasoning.
“No. I mean, not exactly. It’s just that if I was going to be English, then we might have a chance. But if I’m going to stay Amish, then we don’t.”
Walker gripped the steering wheel hard as her words sunk in. “Wow. I never thought our friendship was going to depend on a piece of paper. You should have warned me. If I’d had known, I would have been more stressed out.”
“You are being deliberately cruel.”
His temper flared. “No, Lydia. That would be you. I had no idea I was only going to be in your life on a trial basis, just in case you had use for me. I thought we were friends no matter what.”
“We are friends.”
“I don’t think so. We were going to be friends—or maybe even something more—if it worked out. If it was easy for you.”
Her blue eyes darkened with unshed tears. “You know that wasn’t what I meant. You know how hard it’s been these past weeks, realizing that Perry hadn’t run off to St. Louis, that he’s been dead in the ground and I didn’t even wonder where he’d been.”
“Everyone’s been thinking that,” he said, exasperated. “Haven’t you realized that?”
“But we were sweethearts.”
“You hadn’t even seen him in weeks, right? I mean besides the night we all saw him at Schrock’s store.”
“I saw him the day after, too. On New Year’s Eve,” she blurted.
He almost pulled over. Then, thankful that he needed to slow down for a stoplight, he gathered his emotions as best he could. “I know what we said about keeping this quiet, but I didn’t know you saw him on your own. Maybe you saw something important. Lydia, you better tell Detective Reynolds.”
“I didn’t ‘see’ anything, Luke.” Her voice sounded near tears. “And if I tell him, he’ll suspect me. I might have been the last person to talk to him.”
“If you didn’t kill him, someone else did.”
“If I didn’t kill him?” Pain mixed with guilt in her eyes. “After you drop me off, I don’t want to see you again.”
He was so fed up with her—so hurt that their kiss, their walks, their talks hadn’t meant as much to her as they did to him—he gave it right back to her. “Great, because when I drop you off, I hope I never do.”
“Perry only broke my heart when he got mixed up in things he never should have. What’s your excuse?”
Her accusations were too much. “Don’t you ever compare me to him again. Perry was a loser, Lydia.” After hesitating, he said, “Perry was a drug user and a dealer. He lied and cheated and hurt more people than we’ll probably ever know. I am nothing like him.”
Lydia said nothing, though tears slid down her cheeks.
Walker did his best to pretend that he didn’t notice.
It was a lot harder to pretend he didn’t care.
When Walker finally pulled into her driveway, Lydia couldn’t open the door fast enough. However, she paused to do the right thing. “Thank you for taking me to the agency.”
He didn’t even look at her. “I don’t want your thanks.”
“All right, then.” She swallowed hard. “Goodbye, Walker.”
He said nothing, only lo
oked behind him, then reversed. Leaving only a trail of dust in his wake.
As she watched the dust settle, she felt like sinking to the ground as well. In the span of a few hours, she felt like she’d just lost everything important in her life.
The front door opened behind her.
“Daughter, you’re back early.”
For the first time in a while, Lydia turned to her mother’s voice with a true feeling of eagerness. “Yes, Mamm.”
“Look at you! You’re crying.” Her mother sat down on the top step and motioned her close. “Come talk to me. Did you go to the adoption agency?”
“I did.”
“And . . . did you find what you were looking for?”
“I discovered my birth mother gave birth to me even though she’d been advised to never have children. She had a disease. Multiple Sclerosis.”
Her mother pressed a hand to her chest. “I didn’t know that.”
“She died soon after having me, and her husband knew he couldn’t raise me alone.” Lydia braced herself for another wave of pain to hit her hard. But instead of despair, she felt almost at peace.
Although the truth wasn’t what she’d hoped for, at least she knew where she came from. That was something, at least.
“I bet the memories might have been too hard for him to bear,” her mother said after a few moments. “He must have loved his wife very much.”
“I guess he did. He gave me up.”
Her mother’s chin lifted. “Your birth father let the agency find a better place for you. Your father loved you enough to give you to us, to two people who wanted you so much. Lydia, I should have found out the truth years ago and been open with you. It would have been easier on all of us.”
“When you adopted me, you had another baby on the way. I guess it was too late to change you mind?”
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, she said, “It wasn’t too late. Lydia, we wanted you. Your birth parents’ selfless actions were to our benefit. And for that, I will always be grateful.”
Her mother’s honest words made a lump form in her throat. “I still don’t know if my birth parents were Amish or English,” she blurted. “I just assumed it would say in the file.”
“Ah. And that bothers you?”
The pain made talking difficult. “Jah.”
Missing with Bonus Material: The Secrets of Crittenden County, Book One Page 18
