by Marta Perry
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected of this meeting. Probably it would be wrong to hope for too much. She and Lydia were strangers, after all.
Chloe glanced up, suddenly aware that they’d fallen quiet. All three of them were looking at her. She’d been so absorbed in her own thoughts she’d missed something.
“Lydia wondered if there were any questions you wanted to ask about your mother,” Seth said, a hint of amusement showing in the quirk of his lips.
“Yes, sorry. I’m afraid my thoughts were straying.” She met Lydia’s gaze. “You look a bit like the pictures I’ve seen of our mother. Did you realize that?” Of course all the photos had been of an upper-crust Philadelphia girl, but the resemblance was there, in Lydia’s eyes and the curve of her chin.
“No, I didn’t know.” Lydia’s smile trembled, as if caught between joy and tears. “I have never seen a picture.”
“My grandmother has some family albums. I could send you a photo of our mother. If that would be all right.”
She added the last words, not sure what the Amish attitude would be. Still, maybe her grandmother wasn’t all that different, even if her reasons were different. A person could search the whole house without finding a picture of Diane displayed. Chloe had only located the albums after a lengthy search.
Lydia nodded. “I think that will be all right.” She darted a glance at Adam, who exuded disapproval like a fog. “Not to keep, just to see.”
It would probably take her a lifetime of study to figure out all the ins and outs of Amish life, Chloe decided. But her mother had done it . . . not just figured it out, but chosen it above the way she’d been brought up.
“They must have loved each other very much.” She realized she’d spoken the words aloud, even though she hadn’t intended to.
But Lydia was nodding in agreement, understanding, her eyes misty. “Ja, they must have been quite a pair, to risk everyone’s disapproval that way.”
Funny. She’d been thinking about what Diane had given up for love. It hadn’t even occurred to her that Eli had given something up, as well.
“It would have been a hard choice for both of them,” Adam said unexpectedly. Then he glanced rather pointedly at their dishes. “Ben will be coming to pick us up soon.”
“Ben said he would wait as long as we wanted,” Lydia said quickly. “We do not want Chloe to rush away.”
“That’s all right.” It had been a good idea not to commit herself to anything more than a lunch. This had been strained enough. “I do have a long drive.”
Seth rose. “Adam and I will go and take care of the checks. Let you two have a moment alone.”
Adam hesitated, but at a look from Lydia, he followed Seth across the room toward the counter. Lydia reached out to take Chloe’s hand.
“This has been a gut start, ja?” Lydia blinked, as if tears were forming. “A month ago I could not have imagined finding a sister. Now, I don’t want to lose you again.”
“I’ll call,” Chloe said, and then shook her head. “I’m sorry. I forgot you don’t have a phone. I’ll write. And I’ll send those pictures.”
“You’re sure your grandmother won’t mind?”
Her grandmother wouldn’t know they were missing. She had wiped Diane from the family tree with a firm hand.
“No, she won’t mind.” Chloe stood, coming around the table to Lydia. “I’ll look forward to your next letter.”
“Will you come to the farm for a visit? To see the boys, and the place where our parents lived?”
Chloe’s stomach tightened, as if in protest at the idea. “I . . . I’ll think about it. All right?”
“Ja.” Lydia’s voice was very soft. “That’s gut.”
Chloe stood, irresolute, torn between the longing to run back to the world she knew and the challenge to build a bridge to her sister’s world. Then she stepped forward and put her arms around Lydia.
Lydia’s hug was warm, and she murmured something softly in a language Chloe didn’t know. But maybe she didn’t have to know to understand love.
Nothing about this new family relationship was going to be easy, but it was too late to back away now. Now that she knew her sister, things could not be the same.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Turning from the cash register, Seth glanced back at the alcove. Chloe and Lydia stood facing each other, and even as he watched, Chloe initiated a hug. So. It looked as if Chloe wasn’t as impervious to her sister’s affection as she might want people to believe. He realized Adam was watching, too, his jaw so tight that a muscle twitched.
“They’re sisters,” Seth said quietly. “That’s a natural response.”
“She’s Englisch. I don’t want Lydia to be hurt.”
Seth censored his immediate reaction. It would do no good to confront Adam, who’d lost his brother to the English world. That made him wary.
“Knowing Lydia, I don’t think you can blame her for caring.”
“No. I do not blame her.” Adam’s tone made it clear who he blamed.
Lydia and Chloe were approaching, so Seth couldn’t respond. Just as well.
Seth hung back a step or two as they went outside, studying Chloe’s body language. He couldn’t quite make her out. She had moments of responding very naturally to Lydia, but then she’d put up her defensive barriers in an instant. Her grandmother had done a good job of inculcating her own prejudices in Chloe, it seemed to him. And yet Chloe showed her independence in the way she dressed—far more individual than the classic preppy style her grandmother would undoubtedly prefer.
Ben’s car pulled up to the curb, final good-byes were said, and Chloe stood watching as they pulled away. Her face revealed nothing at all.
Then she turned to Seth. “You can just drop me at my car. Thanks so much.”
He opened the passenger door for her. “Nice brush-off, but you may as well let me take you to Susanna’s shop. I know where it is.”
Chloe stopped, halfway in the car, glaring at him. “What makes you think I’m going to see Susanna?”
“Just a lucky guess.”
She slid into the seat without comment, and he closed the door.
Once he’d pulled out into traffic, he glanced at her. “Well?”
“Yes, I intend to see Susanna. I’m not leaving until I’ve seen both of my sisters. You should understand. You’re the one who suggested this town as the meeting place.” Her lips closed in a tight line.
He recognized stubborn when he saw it. And she was right—he had suggested Oyersburg, convinced that Chloe would insist on seeing Susanna. But there was a lot more going on behind that polished exterior. He’d like to see who Chloe was when she put down those shields.
“You heard what Lydia said about Susanna and her mother’s illness. You can’t tell Susanna the truth about your relationship, not now.”
A quick glance told him that she hadn’t received his words well.
Her chin tilted upward. “Much as I appreciate all you’ve done, I really don’t think it’s up to you, Seth.”
“It’s not up to you, either,” he said bluntly. “Lydia has been to see Susanna, and Lydia understands the situation far better than you could.” He’d rather make Chloe angry with him than to let her stumble into making things worse for Susanna.
“I’m perfectly capable of understanding.” Chloe’s tone would freeze boiling water. “Susanna’s adoptive mother is ill. But it doesn’t seem to have occurred to Lydia or you that Susanna might welcome the knowledge that she has sisters who could support her at a time like this.”
“She might,” he conceded. “Do you think Lydia hasn’t considered that aspect? But you can’t tell her without the information having an effect on how Susanna relates to the woman she thinks is her mother.”
“Not necessarily—” Chloe began, but he didn’t let her finish.
“It changed things for Lydia and her mamm, and Lydia already knew she was adopted. And can you honestly say it didn’t put a strain on your relati
onship with your grandmother?”
Chloe was silent at his words, but he thought that shot had gone home. A good thing if it had, because they’d arrived at the shop and he was out of time.
He pulled to the curb and nodded. “That’s it. I’ll go in with you.”
Chloe was already getting out of the car. She seemed to have gained control of her temper, because she didn’t snap at him.
“So you think I need a chaperone?”
“No, but Susanna might.”
He walked beside Chloe as she went up the couple of steps to the small porch that fronted Main Street. Chloe paused, her gaze moving from the creek across the road to the row of two-story frame structures along the street.
“These look more like private homes than businesses.”
“Most of them were, at one time. The only buildings originally built as businesses are in that three-block stretch of Main Street.” He nodded to where the street rose up the hill and leveled off. “This area was once all residential, most of it built around the turn of the century. The last century,” he added.
She nodded, opening the door. “It seems like a good location for a shop.” She stepped inside and stopped again, looking around.
Seth, used to the small businesses that handled Amish-made items, tried to see the place through Chloe’s eyes. Did she recognize the craftsmanship and artistry in the quilted place mats and carved wooden toys? Susanna’s shop had the most extensive collection he’d seen in the area.
Chloe moved to a counter and picked up a maple napkin holder that bore a colorful hex design. “I thought the Amish didn’t use hex symbols.” Her tone was faintly challenging.
“Not for their own use,” he explained. He ran his finger along the smooth finish of a cup holder. “But they’ll make things for sale to the Englisch that they wouldn’t make for themselves.”
“Ja, that’s true enough.” A woman came out from behind the counter at the rear, obviously having heard him. “I have one Amish lady who is making quilted covers for those tablet computers.”
This must be Susanna. The age was right, and the woman had a certain resemblance to Lydia in the shape of her face and the tilt of her head. She came toward them, limping slightly, and Seth was sure. Lydia had said that Susanna had never fully recovered from her injury.
He glanced at Chloe. Her full lips trembled just a bit before she pressed them firmly together. She’d recognized Susanna, too.
“There’s no reason not to provide what folks want to buy,” he said, answering Susanna’s comment and giving Chloe time to regain her composure. “You have a fine selection.”
“Denke.” Susanna tilted her head in acknowledgment.
“Is . . . Is everything handmade?” Chloe nearly had her voice under control.
“Just about.” Susanna glanced around, as if seeking something that hadn’t been. “Most of it is made by Amish or Old Order Mennonites from the area. We also have a few pieces from local artists.”
Chloe had moved on to the quilted work. She touched a table runner, and Susanna quickly lifted it down and spread it out on the table.
“This is a design called Sunshine and Shadows. It’s usually used for bigger items, like quilts, but one lady who quilts for us likes to adapt the design for smaller pieces. She says everyone who comes in might not want to spend the money for a full-size quilt.”
“Do you handle traditional quilts?” Chloe’s voice lifted with her interest.
Seth reminded himself that her museum had a collection of Pennsylvania folk art. She probably knew more about the contents of Susanna’s shop than he did.
“Just a few. We don’t really have room for a lot of them.” Susanna sounded regretful. “But if you’re interested in quilts, you might want to visit Katie’s Quilt Shop over in Pleasant Valley. It’s only about a half hour’s drive, and she has a wonderful selection.”
The mention of Pleasant Valley startled him, but it was natural that Susanna would know the other Amish shops in the area.
“Katie Brand,” he said. “She does have beautiful quilts.” In answer to Susanna’s questioning look, he added, “I have relatives over that way, so I’ve seen it.”
Susanna nodded, satisfied. She’d shown no reaction in mentioning Pleasant Valley. She couldn’t know that it had once been her home.
“This is such an interesting building,” Chloe said, gesturing toward the wide molding that surrounded the doors and windows. “Do you live upstairs?”
Susanna shook her head. “Some of the buildings along the street have apartments on the second floor, but we use it for storage. The basement can be damp, so we dare not put stock there.” Then, as if feeling she hadn’t fully answered the question, she added, “My mother and I live just up the street from here.”
Sorrow darkened her eyes at the mention of her mother. Seth recognized it, hoping Chloe did as well. If she burst out with the information about Susanna’s parentage, there was no way he could stop her, short of clapping his hand over her mouth and dragging her out.
An older Amish woman came in just then, the bell over the door jingling. She smiled and nodded to them and then spoke to Susanna in Pennsylvania Dutch.
“I can take over, if you’re needed at home.”
Susanna shook her head. “The hospice nurse is there with Mamm.”
Seth kept his face blank, trying to disguise the fact that he understood them. Hospice—that didn’t sound very hopeful for Susanna’s mother.
Susanna’s smile was strained when she turned back to them. “Is there anything else I can show you?”
“No, thanks.”
Chloe’s tone was muted, making Seth wonder if she’d pieced together the exchange between Susanna and her friend. Susanna had used the English word hospice, dropping it into a rapid string of Pennsylvania Dutch as the Amish were prone to do when there wasn’t a Pennsylvania Dutch equivalent for an English word.
“I’ll take the cup holder.” Chloe gestured with the one still in her hand. “And the Sunshine and Shadows table runner.”
“Very gut.” Smiling, Susanna took the items and led the way to the counter. “I’ll wrap them up for you.”
“And if you have a mailing list, I’d love to receive notices of any special events,” Chloe said, opening her handbag and taking out a pen.
“Ja, of course.” Susanna indicated a clipboard and pencil on the counter. “We will be happy to send you our flyers when they come out.”
Seth watched as Chloe wrote her name and address on the list. Was this a way of staying in touch with her sister? Probably. But at least she hadn’t blurted out anything that would upset the apple cart.
“There you are.” Transaction completed, Susanna handed her the bag and glanced down at the list. “Chloe,” she repeated. “A pretty name.” A tiny frown formed between her brows, as if the name reminded her of something.
“I was named after a childhood friend of my mother’s, I understand,” Chloe said. “And your name?”
“Susanna. Susanna Bitler. I hope you’ll visit us again.”
“Thank you. I’m sure I will.” Chloe was looking at Susanna so intently that Seth’s nerves pricked.
“Ready?” he said, his voice louder than he intended in the quiet shop.
“Yes.” Chloe didn’t look at him, just at Susanna. “Good-bye, Susanna.” She walked out of the shop without a backward glance, and he followed quickly, trying not to step on her heels in his haste to get her away.
Seth breathed a relieved sigh once they were clear of the shop and back in the car again. It had gone as well as it could, he supposed. But there was still something he should say.
“When Susanna and her partner were speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch, the partner asked if Susanna needed to leave to take care of her mother. Susanna answered that the hospice nurse was there.”
“I thought that was the word she used.” Chloe stared out at the creek across the street, probably without seeing its gentle movement. “It sounds as if her moth
er is in bad shape, doesn’t it?”
He nodded, making the turn carefully by the curb market. The vendors were shutting down, and there was always a risk of someone backing into the street.
“I’m afraid so.”
“You understand the language then.”
“That’s what I spoke when I was part of the Amish community,” he said. “I didn’t know much English until I started school, like Lydia’s kids.”
“Doesn’t that hamper them, not knowing English as their first language?” Chloe sounded troubled, as if she were worried about the two nephews she hadn’t met.
“Not if they stay Amish.” That was the only honest answer he could give, and it applied to a lot of things about being Amish. “The kids learn English quickly because they hear it a lot, but Pennsylvania Dutch is the language of home.” The language of the heart, he’d almost said.
He pulled up next to her car in the lot at the park. A group of kids were playing soccer on the grassy field, and their shouts drifted through the air.
Chloe hadn’t moved, and he studied her face. She looked tired, her face drawn.
“Are you all right, Chloe?”
“Sure.” She seemed to collect herself, picking up her bag and reaching for the door handle.
“You’ve had a stressful day. Maybe you shouldn’t drive clear back. There are plenty of places to stay along the interstate.”
“I’m fine.” The sharpness in her voice denied the words. She shook her head, smiling ruefully, and her expression warmed. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little hypersensitive right now. I appreciate your concern. And everything you did to make this happen. I can always stop if I start getting too tired, but I’m ready to be back in my familiar surroundings.”
“You’re not sorry you came, are you?” He probed at the risk of making her annoyed with him, but he wanted to understand her reaction. He was responsible for bringing the sisters together, and if there was blame, it belonged on him.
She seemed to consider the question. “I . . . No, I’m not sorry. But it’s much more complicated than I thought.”
