Lydia's Hope

by Marta Perry

  “That’s nice to know.” Lydia’s heart seemed to warm, as well.

  Emma gave a faint, faraway smile. “She was crazy about you girls, too. I mind seeing her under that big old tree in the middle of the orchard. Sometimes she’d bring out a blanket and put the baby on it. Sometimes she’d sit on that low limb with you and Susanna next to her, telling you stories.”

  Lydia stored the memory up, realizing that it was much the same as the image Mamm had given her. Obviously Diane had loved that spot in the orchard, just as she did.

  “It seems strange to think of her living the way we do, with her having been raised in the city and all. She must have had a lot to learn, not just about living Amish but living on a farm, too.”

  “Ach, ja. Many’s the laugh we had when I showed her how to make apple butter or can jelly. But she loved every minute of it.”

  “I’m glad to know that, even if I can’t remember it for myself.” The loss of her early memories was like a splinter sticking into her, always there, always hurting just a little.

  Emma reached across to pat Lydia’s hand. “You must never think Diane had regrets about the life she chose with your daad, because she didn’t. She seldom spoke of her parents, and as far as I know, they never got in touch with her.”

  “I’m glad she was happy.” Lydia blinked quickly, not wanting to let a tear get away from her. “It seems so odd, though, that her parents didn’t try to be part of her life.”

  And given that apparently bitter separation, it wondered her that Mrs. Wentworth had even wanted to take Chloe.

  “I mind Diane saying something once about her mother,” Emma said slowly. “She said that all her life she’d known she had to live up to what her mother expected, and if she couldn’t, then she wasn’t worth loving. It made Diane determined never to let any of you girls doubt her love for you. She was a fine mother to you girls, even though she had such a short time.”

  Lydia was glad to have that knowledge of her mother, but in a way it made her more apprehensive about her grandmother. That woman had had the raising of Chloe, and who could guess how such a person might have affected a child?

  The telephone’s ringing jerked her upright, and in an instant she was out of her chair. She hesitated, glancing at Emma, who smiled and waved her hand.

  “Go on. It’ll be Seth, calling for you, like as not. You might as well answer.”

  Lydia raced out to the phone shanty, fearful that he’d hang up before she got there, snatched the receiver, and said hello rather breathlessly.

  “Lydia?” Seth sounded alarmed to hear her. “Is my mother all right?”

  “Ja, ja, she’s fine,” Lydia assured him. Naturally he’d be surprised at her answering his mamm’s phone. “We were visiting, and she knew you’d be calling to tell me what you’d found.”

  “Of course.” His voice seemed to deepen. “You want to hear how my meeting with Chloe turned out.”

  “You saw her, then?” She tried in vain to control her excitement. “How did she look? What did she say when you told her?”

  “She looked fine. Like her photo, only not so dressed up, since she was at work. As for her reactions . . . well, that wasn’t so good, I’m afraid. She didn’t believe me.”

  “Didn’t believe you?” In all the imagining she’d done about Chloe, it seemed that response had never occurred to her. “But why wouldn’t she believe it? Why would she think you’d lie to her?”

  “At first she thought I had made a mistake,” Seth said. “But when I insisted I hadn’t, she thought I was trying to get something from her.”

  Lydia’s mind must be working very slowly, because she couldn’t seem to figure that out. “I don’t understand. What could you get from her? You were trying to tell her the truth about her background.”

  “She didn’t see it that way. I suppose when you have as much money as her grandmother does, you start expecting people to try to trick you out of it.” His voice seemed to change, as if the answer had hurt him as much as it hurt her. “I’m sorry, Lydia. I really thought I could convince her.”

  “It’s not your fault.” She had to say the words, even though all she wanted was to let go and weep. “I know you tried your best.”

  “She may still change her mind. I left the documents with her, along with my card. She might look at them and decide to give me a call.”

  Lydia held the receiver tight against her ear for a long moment, trying to assess the emotion in his voice. “Tell me the truth, Seth. Do you think that’s likely?”

  Seth hesitated in his turn. “I don’t want to hold out false hope, Lydia. She seemed pretty determined. I’m afraid we’ve reached a dead end. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” She had to struggle to swallow the lump in her throat. “I’d rather hear the truth, even when it hurts.” So that was it, then. As Seth had said, it was a dead end.

  * * *

  As luck would have it, Chloe walked in the back door of the Wentworth house in Chestnut Hill, coming from the garage, just as she heard her grandmother entering the front door. Margaret Wentworth declined to drive herself in city traffic, instead calling a car service when she went out, and no doubt she had just returned from one of her many civic meetings.

  Chloe had moved back into the family home when she finished grad school, partly because her grandmother had so clearly wanted it and partly because, until she decided that the position at the Pennsylvania German Cultural Museum was going to work out, she hated to invest in an apartment. Soon, she promised herself. Maybe the job wasn’t perfect, but the Wentworth name had eased her into a better position than she’d have found elsewhere in her crowded chosen field.

  She walked through the dining room and into the tiled entrance hall that was as cool and traditional as her grandmother. Gran turned at the sound of her footsteps.

  “You’re home early today, Chloe. I should have been as well, if not for the tendency of some library board members to argue over every issue.” She frowned slightly, touching the elegant waves of her white hair. “We should have known better than to have invited so many newcomers to participate in board meetings.” Gran made it sound as if the newcomers were the equivalent of a band of Viking marauders.

  “I’m sure you straightened it out.” Chloe had something more important than the travails of the library board on her mind.

  “Of course.” Her grandmother looked slightly surprised, as if the comment were unnecessary. Naturally she had straightened it out.

  “I’d like to talk with you, Gran.” And the sooner the better, before the wave of righteous indignation she was riding ebbed and she resorted to hiding her emotions, as she so often did when it came to a confrontation with her grandmother.

  “Can it wait, dear?” Gran was already turning toward the stairs. “I have to dress for the Food for Africa dinner this evening, something you should be attending as well.”

  It had never seemed quite appropriate to Chloe to join a group of people who’d never gone hungry in their lives and dine on filet mignon while listening to stories of the malnourished, but she knew better than to say so if she wanted to get to the subject that was uppermost in her mind.

  “Now, please. This is important, Gran.”

  That earned her a raised eyebrow. “More important than your charitable responsibilities? Really, Chloe, your priorities should—”

  “I found out about my sisters today,” Chloe said, her voice coming out breathless and weaker than she would have liked. “Why did you hide that information from me?”

  Her grandmother didn’t blink. She stiffened, that was all, as if taking a blow she hadn’t seen coming.

  “Really, Chloe.” She repeated the two words she so often used when she considered her granddaughter to be unreasonable. No weakness showed in those syllables. Obviously her grandmother was made of tougher fiber than Chloe was. “Such dramatic language is not necessary. I didn’t hide the information. I simply didn’t feel it necessary to tell you.”

/>   “Not necessary?” A sudden spurt of anger strengthened her tone. Gran was acting as if this were as simple as not mentioning that the newspaper hadn’t been delivered. “I had a right to know that I had two sisters.”

  “You were a baby when you came to us. You were hardly of an age to remember your sisters or anyone else from your earlier life.” Gran put her leather handbag on the marble-topped stand in the hall, looking into the rococo mirror above it to check her appearance.

  Chloe clenched her teeth. “I haven’t been a baby in a long time, Gran. You should have told me.”

  “To what end?” Gran turned toward her, her face as cool and controlled as that of a marble carving. “I assumed that when you were old enough to understand, you’d try to find out. If you didn’t, then perhaps it didn’t mean enough to you.”

  It was a neat way of putting the blame on Chloe, but she wasn’t accepting it. “Why would I try to find out when I didn’t know anything about it? I thought I could trust what you told me about my past.”

  “You ought to trust me. I’ve taken care of you since you were a baby.” Her grandmother’s voice became tart as her detachment slipped ever so slightly. “There was nothing to be gained by involving you with those people. They certainly wouldn’t welcome any overtures from you.”

  That cool certainty was annoying. “How do you know? My sisters might be looking for me.”

  One of them was, at least. Somehow Chloe wasn’t sure she wanted to tell her grandmother about Seth Miller’s visit. Maybe she was being overly cautious, but if her grandmother could keep a secret, so could she.

  Her grandmother waved her hand, as if to dismiss the idea. “I doubt that very much. They’re Amish, and the Amish don’t mix with people like us, people who live in the normal world.” She moved toward the stairs. “We’ll talk about this another time, when you’re calmer.”

  Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, Chloe would accept being put off, maybe because she’d been told so emphatically that her rebellious mother had broken her parents’ hearts, and she hadn’t wanted to do the same. She’d confined her rebellion to going out of state for grad school and dressing in a manner that clearly pained her grandmother. But she began to think Diane might have had some justification for her actions.

  “You took me home from the hospital. Why didn’t you take my sisters? Given everything you’ve said about the Amish luring my mother into their lifestyle, I should think you’d have wanted all three of us.”

  Gran stopped on the first step, hand resting on the intricately carved cherry newel post. She sighed, as if giving in to the unreasonable.

  “When I received the news of the accident, I went at once to the hospital where you’d been taken. No one was there with you. The other girls were in different hospitals, and they were already surrounded by the Amish relatives. There was nothing I could do.”

  Chloe might buy that if not for the fact that she’d never known her grandmother to accept the idea that there was nothing she could do about any issue. “But if the Amish are all that you’ve said, how could you just leave them there? They were Diane’s daughters, too.”

  Gran gripped the post, her eyes veiled. Then, as if giving in, she shrugged. “Very well, if you must have it. The reason I didn’t attempt to gain custody of the other two is that they were older. They’d already been too influenced by their parents. After all your grandfather and I went through with your mother, I had no desire to repeat the experience.” Her lips compressed on the words.

  Chloe was speechless. Her grandmother had dismissed a five-year-old and a three-year-old from her life because of their parents’ influence? She couldn’t find the words to express her mixed feelings.

  “But you . . .” Her grandmother’s face softened. “You were a new opportunity. A chance for us to raise you properly and to counteract what Diane might have done. Can’t you understand that we did it because we loved you the minute we saw you?”

  She couldn’t, but she also couldn’t ignore the genuine feeling in her grandmother’s face. It was there, slipping through the facade, and Margaret Wentworth didn’t show emotion easily. Chloe’s heart twisted.

  “I know you love me, Gran.” Her throat tightened. “And I love you.”

  “Good. I realize you’re upset now, but believe me, you’ll forget all this in a few days.”

  Chloe nearly agreed, just because she was so used to doing so and because she couldn’t bear to be at odds with her only family. But this time she couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry, Gran, but I can’t pretend this didn’t happen. I can’t.”

  Her grandmother stiffened. “You’re determined to find out about those people, I suppose. I can’t stop you. But I can tell you this—it will end in heartache.” She turned away in dismissal and went slowly up the stairs, her back straight, her head held high.

  Chloe pressed her hand against her stomach, which seemed to be tying itself in knots over her temerity. Well, she’d stood up to her grandmother, but she wasn’t sure what she was going to do next, except that it seemed certain she’d be seeing Seth Miller again.

  * * *

  Adam walked toward the strawberry patch in late afternoon, the two boys darting ahead and then running back to him like a couple of puppies. Most of the day had been wasted, it seemed, in going from one possible employer to the next, from one end of Pleasant Valley to the other.

  The story was the same everywhere. Folks were sorry; they’d like to be taking on new workers, but business wasn’t good enough. Maybe in another month they’d be able to hire.

  Another month, and in the meantime, what was he to do? Plenty of work for him waited around the farm, for sure, but most of it wouldn’t bring in money, at least not right away.

  The Lord will provide. It’s God’s will.

  The answers that should comfort him didn’t seem to be having that effect. He should provide for his family.

  Daniel grabbed his hand. “Is it time to uncover the strawberry plants yet, Daadi? It’s been getting pretty warm, ain’t so?”

  “I want to do it,” David said instantly. “Let me help, too.”

  “We’ll have a look at them and see how they’re doing.” Adam put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder for a moment. It was good that the boys took such an interest in the farm. “Even though it’s been warm, we could still have a frost, you know,” he cautioned.

  Daniel nodded solemnly. “Can I uncover one plant? Just to see if it’s growing?”

  “Me, too,” David said quickly, squatting down next to the straw-covered bed.

  “You always say that.” Daniel’s expression turned a bit mulish. “I thought of it first.”

  Adam tapped him lightly on top of his straw hat. “Your little bruder wants to do what you do, ja? That’s how it goes with brothers.”

  A memory slid into his mind, unbidden, of himself and Benjamin at about the same ages Daniel and David were now. He’d want to be doing something by himself with Daad, but Benjamin always pushed in. He’d been short with his brother more times than he could count, and the guilt that accompanied that thought was bitter.

  He should have been more patient. He should have provided the understanding and guidance Benjamin needed. He’d take it all back in an instant if he could, but nobody got to live their lives over again.

  “Daadi? Was ist letz?” Daniel was staring at him. He must have let his face show too much of his thoughts.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Adam squatted between the boys. Then, because he tried always to be honest with them, he added, “I was just remembering what it was like when my little bruder followed me around.”

  “Onkel Benjamin, you mean? The one who went away to be Englisch and never came back?”

  “Ja.” He put a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder. He’d rather his sons didn’t know about Benjamin, but maybe it was best that they saw how much it hurt the family when one person jumped the fence. And he’d certain-sure seen the results of keeping secrets in this trouble over Lydia�
��s sisters.

  Best to focus on the here and now. He bent over, pulling back some of the straw he’d put over the berry patch last fall.

  “See, there is a plant, nice and green and ready to grow.” He touched a tiny green leaf. “I think in a few days, if the weather is still warm, we’ll pull the straw off so the plants can get some sun.”

  “But what if it frosts?” Daniel said. He was always a bit of a worrier.

  “We’ll leave the straw here, between the plants, so we can pull it back over like a blanket if the weather turns bad. If not, it will keep the weeds from coming up and choking the plants.”

  Daniel nodded solemnly. David, his attention waning, was already back on his feet.

  “I see a blossom in the orchard!” he shouted. “I do, I see one!” He set off running, and Daniel followed, overtaking him easily.

  Adam followed more slowly, his gaze on his sons, and worry crept out of hiding again. They were his responsibility, his and Lydia’s. This was the life he wanted for them, living close to the land, living simply, obedient to God’s teachings. If he could find work, even part-time, that would help to keep their lives the way they were.

  Well, if not, they’d get along for a time. His family and Lydia’s would help, though he hated to ask it of them. And this land and the orchard belonged to them free and clear, thanks to Lydia’s birth parents.

  He reached the boys, who stood staring up into the branches of the big tree in the center of the orchard. David was pointing.

  “See, right there. That blossom is opening.”

  “I think you’re right,” Adam said. “It’s the first one, but the others will soon start to follow.”

  “Mammi loves it when the trees are covered with blossoms,” Daniel said. “That will make her happy again.”

  Adam turned to the boy, scanning his face. “Again? Is Mammi not happy today?” He’d not gone back to the house when he’d gotten back from his job hunt, because the boys had distracted him.

  “Daniel made Mammi sad,” David piped up.