by Marta Perry
“Aren’t you going to open it?” He should be there when she did, in case she needed support.
Lydia nodded, ripping the envelope open. She pulled out several sheets of paper. “It’s from my mother’s friend. ‘I was happy to hear from you, Lydia. I often wondered what happened to dear Diane’s kinder, and now I know.’” She glanced up at him. “She sounds like a nice person.”
“She does,” he agreed, not that he would have expected anything else.
Lydia read her way rapidly down the sheet. “She tells a bit about her family, and asks about Susanna and Chloe. And then she says, ‘I was troubled by the question you asked about whether your mamm wanted to leave the church. I think the best answer is in your own mamm’s words, so I enclose the last letter she wrote to me.’”
Lydia fumbled with the sheets of paper, and Adam discovered that his heart seemed to be thudding in his ears. He wanted, so much, for this to be an answer that would make his Lydia happy again.
“Here it is.” Lydia’s voice shook a little. “It looks as if my mother wrote to her in anticipation of seeing her on their trip. Adam, it’s almost like hearing her voice. She says, ‘I’m so excited to see you again. Eli was afraid the trip might be too much for me with the baby only a year old, but I persuaded him we’d all enjoy it, and I really want you to meet our three precious girls. When I had that postnatal depression after little Chloe was born, I felt as if I were at the bottom of a deep, dark well. But thanks to Eli’s love and patience, the help of the family here, and a good doctor, I’m back to normal. I’ve never been so contented in my life, and I pray my daughters will know the happiness I’ve found.”
Lydia’s voice choked on the final words, and he realized she was weeping.
He put his hand on her shoulder, his worry escalating. “I thought you would be happy to have your worries resolved.”
“I am.” Her lips trembled on a smile through her tears. “It is just so . . . so touching to hear her happiness and know that a few weeks later she would be gone.” Lydia straightened, wiping her tears with the back of her hands. “But she and her Eli were together, ja?”
“Ja.” Adam’s fingers smoothed gently, patting her shoulder. He should mention Chloe, he knew. He should say something to show that he didn’t bear Chloe any ill will, despite what had happened.
He cleared his throat. “You will send the letter to Chloe, ain’t so?”
To his surprise, she hesitated. “I don’t know.” She smoothed the pages out on the table, her touch gentle. “I don’t know if I want to part with it.”
He frowned, not sure he understood what she was thinking. “You could send a copy. I just meant that you’d want Chloe to see it. Maybe it would make it easier for her to accept what her mother did.”
“Maybe.” Lydia sounded doubtful. “I thought I understood what Chloe wanted when she came here, but I fear I was wrong. Maybe, instead of wanting to see how her mother lived, she really hoped to prove that her mother wanted to leave.”
He digested that, thinking it might well be true. “Even so, she maybe has a right to know what you found out.”
Lydia didn’t answer, which in his experience meant she didn’t agree with him. Should he press the point? It seemed they had changed places in regard to her sister.
Before he could decide, a blast of wind sent a small branch flying against the window, where it clung for a moment before blowing on. A clap of thunder, closer now, punctuated it.
Adam spun and headed for the door. “Where are the boys?”
“In the barn.” Lydia came hurrying after him. “I’ll get them.”
* * *
The heavens opened when Lydia was halfway to the barn, and by the time she plunged through the open door, she was soaked. She should have taken time to grab a jacket on her way out, but her thoughts had been on the boys.
They stood well away from the door, their eyes wide in the flash of the lightning. Daniel held on to David, as if to prevent him from rushing out into the storm.
“Ach, you are safe and dry, and I’m all wet.” She held out her arms, and they rushed to her. David buried his face in her skirt.
“I’m sorry, Mammi. We should have come in sooner. By the time we saw how dark it was getting, I thought it was too late,” Daniel said, taking responsibility.
“You did exactly the right thing.” She cupped Daniel’s face in her hand, raising her voice to speak above the pounding of the rain on the barn roof. “We’re as safe here as in the house. We’ll just wait until the storm passes, ja?”
They both nodded, and David was reassured enough by her calm words to release his grip on her skirt. “Where’s Daadi?” he said, worry wrinkling his forehead.
“It’s all right. He’s getting the animals. You stay back from the door while I check and see if he needs help.”
One step out the door was enough to drench her again. She spotted Adam coming, leading the two buggy horses by the halter. They danced and skittered with every lightning flash.
The cows, far more sensible, plodded quickly toward the barn. They would come in with or without help, she expected.
“Boys, open the stall doors for the horses. I’ll help Daadi.”
She was so wet a little more couldn’t matter. She sloshed toward Adam, not heeding the jerk of his head telling her to stay put.
“You didn’t need to—” he began.
“I was already soaked.” She grasped Gray’s halter, letting Adam deal with the more fractious Callie. “Komm, foolish beasts. The cows will be there before you.”
Gray, finally getting the message, began to trot, and Callie followed suit. Clinging on to the halter, Lydia let the horse tow her along, the wind whipping Gray’s mane in her face. The rain pelted down so hard she could barely see a yard in front of her, and the lightning was so close there was barely a discernible pause between the flash and the peal of thunder. She glanced at Adam, running beside the other horse.
He grinned, his face suddenly boyish despite his beard. And her heart seemed to turn over the way it used to when she saw him coming.
“You look wetter than the animals, Lydia Beachy,” he said, chuckling a little.
“Not as wet as you,” she responded, relieved to find something to relax and laugh about.
A loud clap of thunder seemed to rattle the barn roof, chasing them the rest of the way inside. Through the open doors she could see the rain blowing in sideways sheets.
The boys stood, each one by a stall door, holding it open. Gray bolted for her stall. Lydia pulled her hand free of the halter, and David slammed the stall door and latched it.
“Gut work, Mammi,” he said, making her laugh.
“Wet work,” she said. Adam and Daniel had the other mare in the stall already. The cows, not needing to be told, lined up by the stanchions as if ready to be milked.
“Not yet,” Adam said, patting the nearest flank. “Daniel, scoot up and toss down some hay to keep them busy.”
“Ja, Daadi.” Daniel scrambled up the ladder, and Lydia bit her lip to keep from telling him to be careful. His expression told her he was happy to be helping, and she shouldn’t spoil it.
Working together, the four of them got the animals settled. This is how it should be, she thought. This is right, no matter what Chloe might think about how backward we are.
The thought brought its own pain. She’d placed so much hope on Chloe’s visit to the farm, she knew. Too much, maybe. Chloe certainly had different expectations than she had.
Lydia glanced at Adam, his hand on David’s shoulder, explaining something to him about the feed. Distracting him, most likely, from the storm that raged outside.
She’d been more than surprised when Adam, of all people, had suggested that Chloe should read her mother’s letter. She had expected that Adam would be only too pleased to see the last of her Englisch sister. He was thinking of her, Lydia knew, trying to mend what was broken.
But she didn’t think it could be mended. It was too late
for her and Chloe. One day she’d be able to tell Susanna, at least.
Until then, she had her mother’s words to comfort her, and the memories others had shared.
The storm really was right on top of them now, the thunder and lightning almost continuous. She went to stand next to Adam and the boys, who were looking out the open door. He glanced at her and then put his arm around her waist. They held the boys close as the wind and rain battered the barn like an animal trying to get in.
Another loud clap rattled the barn and had David burying his face in her skirt again. “Mammi . . .” His voice caught on a sob.
“It’s all right.” She rubbed his back, trying to comfort him. “The storm will soon move on down the valley. We’ll see the sun again before it sets, I guess.”
Continuous flashes of lightning flared as she looked out the door toward the orchard. The worst of the storm seemed to be right over them now, and the trees bent before the wind.
There was a crack, a sizzle in the air, and a spark flared up from the big tree in the middle of the orchard. Her mother’s tree. It seemed to shudder, like a person struck a terrible blow. Lydia covered her mouth to hold back a cry as the tree fell, shattered, to the ground.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Much later, Lydia stood in the orchard with Adam, her throat so tight she couldn’t speak. She had refused to come out and look at the tree until after the boys were in bed, not wanting them to see how upset she was.
They’d seemed to understand, though. They’d scurried quietly through their bedtime routine, and their hugs had been extra tight.
“I’m sorry,” Adam said at last, his gesture indicating the scattered branches. The trunk was split and charred all the way to the ground, and the fresh green leaves had already begun to wither.
“The tree was old.” She fought to get the words out. “You and Daadi warned me. But I didn’t expect this ending.” The tears spilled over, despite her best efforts, and her breath caught on a sob.
“Ach, Lydia, I would do anything not to see you cry.” Adam put his arms around her, his own voice ravaged by hurt.
She pressed her face against his chest. The shirt he’d put on after their dunking in the storm smelled of spring and sunshine.
“I can’t help weeping.” She tried to wipe away the tears, but they just kept coming. “I have lost my sister and the thing that reminded me most of my mother. It hurts.”
Adam’s arms went painfully taut. “It is my fault.”
She drew back, surprise chasing the tears away. “What are you talking about? You could not stop the storm or keep Chloe from leaving.”
“Not the storm. But Chloe—that is my fault.” His face was so tense that the skin seemed drawn tightly against the bones, and his mouth trembled. Adam, who was always so strong.
“Adam, don’t. Don’t look that way. Ja, you might have been a little more friendly to Chloe, but that isn’t why she left.”
“I don’t have a job. Chloe was right. I promised to take care of you and the boys, and I’ve failed.”
A spasm of fear went through her at the pain and grief in his face. She’d never seen him look that way. She had to fix this, or it would destroy them.
She thought of all the times she’d said something about how strong he was and how she knew he’d take care of them. Her whole body shuddered. Had she been destroying him by her careless words?
“Adam, listen to me.” She grasped his arm, as unyielding as concrete under her fingers. “I meant what I said to Chloe. Marriage isn’t about one person taking care of the other. It’s about each one taking care of them both.”
His expression didn’t change. It seemed he didn’t even hear her, and her panic grew.
“My mamm says marriage is like two horses in harness, pulling together, going the same way.”
That seemed to get through to him. “Your daad said something like that to me once, too. But—”
“I know sometimes I say that I know you’ll take care of us.” The words seemed bitter on her tongue now that she knew what harm they could do. “But that doesn’t have anything to do with a job. I mean that you’ll always love us and be here for us.” The doubt in his face made her frantic, and she shook his arm, as if that would make him understand her. “I’m glad you’re not traveling away to work every day. We would rather have you here.”
“Do you think I wouldn’t rather be here?” His mouth twisted with hurt. “But we need the money.”
“Not that much. Adam, think. Between the jobs you pick up right here in Pleasant Valley and the orchard, we can do all right. We don’t need that much to live plain, ja?”
She tried to smile, and it seemed to her that his expression was questioning now, rather than grief-stricken. “My Lydia.” He took her hands in his. “You should have everything you want.”
She knew the answer to that one. “All I want is you and the kinder. That’s enough for me.”
He studied her face, as if he had to make sure she really meant it. Then, apparently satisfied, he drew her into his arms.
They stood there, holding each other, and Lydia thought she could feel the gap between them narrowing and narrowing until it disappeared. They were going to be all right.
* * *
Adam slipped quietly from the bed before the first light edged over the eastern horizon. He gathered his clothes and then stood for a moment, looking down at Lydia.
Sleep had smoothed away the tiny worry lines that formed when she thought of her sister. They had been close last night—closer than he thought they had ever been—but there was still a shadow between them.
Chloe. He would never feel right about Chloe unless he at least made an effort to mend things between Lydia and her sister. He might not succeed, but he had to try.
He tiptoed out of the room, easing the door closed so that it didn’t make a sound, and went downstairs barefoot, carrying his clothes and shoes. He had lain awake for much of the night, watching Lydia sleeping beside him, and trying to figure out how to accomplish the impossible.
There was only one answer that he could see. He would have to go to Philadelphia and try to get Chloe back for Lydia.
The very thought of it made him feel cold inside. He’d never been farther from home than Harrisburg, and that only once. He’d felt so lost there, and finding his brother in such a terrible condition had only made it worse. And now he proposed to make his way clear across the state to a city that would make Harrisburg look like a small town. His stomach roiled.
He would feel better when he’d eaten something, he told himself. Dressing quickly, he grabbed some bread, cheese, and milk for a hurried meal while he tried to compose a note to leave for Lydia.
He soon realized it was impossible to put what he was feeling into words, so he kept it brief, saying he’d try to see Chloe and hoped to be back tonight. No need to remind her of the milking—she’d deal with it. Taking the letter Lydia had received and Seth’s cell phone number, he went out into the thin light of early dawn.
Wet grass brushed against his pant legs as he walked to the phone shanty. He’d tried to figure out another way of doing this, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have enough time to set up a trip with an Englisch driver, but Seth would surely take him to Mifflinburg or Lewisburg, where he could, he thought, get a bus to Philadelphia.
Seth picked up on the third ring, his voice blurred with sleep. “What’s wrong? My mother?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Adam answered quickly. He should have realized that Seth would assume the call meant an emergency.
“Adam?” Seth’s voice sharpened.
“Ja. I am sorry to wake you.” He wasn’t eager to ask Seth for a favor, but he would, for Lydia’s sake. “I need a ride to someplace where I can get a bus to Philadelphia. Will you drive me?” Seth would understand that he couldn’t take a buggy that far.
“You’re going to see Chloe? Why?” Rustling noises seemed to say that Seth was getting out of bed.
Adam
hesitated, but there was no point in kidding himself. Seth already knew too much about their family business.
“I have something that might change Chloe’s mind. Lydia is so sad and upset . . .” He let that trail off, his voice thickening.
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” Seth said, and clicked off.
Adam stared at the receiver for a moment before hanging up. It was done, and he wouldn’t turn back now. He patted the cash he’d stowed next to his skin and set off down the lane. He didn’t want Seth driving up to the house and waking anyone.
The air was crisp and fresh after last night’s storm. Night creatures were beginning to go to ground as the birds started to chatter, and the moon was a pale silver disc in the lightening sky. He reached the end of the lane and settled himself against the fence post to wait.
It had to be less than half an hour later when Seth’s car pulled up. Adam slid into the passenger seat.
“Denke, Seth. I think Lewisburg maybe would be best for getting a bus, ja?”
“No need for that,” Seth said. He pulled out, heading back down the road toward town. “I’ll take you to Philadelphia.”
Adam couldn’t help tensing. The truth was that he didn’t want to be beholden to Seth. “I don’t want to take up your whole day. I’ll go by bus.”
“That really would take all day,” Seth said, smiling slightly. “Look, I’m involved in this already, so you might as well let me take you this next step. Besides, I know how to find Chloe, whether she’s at work or at home.”
There was much in what Seth said, but still . . . Adam knew why he was reluctant to accept Seth’s help, and it didn’t reflect very well on him, he suspected.
Seth slowed as they entered the outskirts of Pleasant Valley. The village still seemed to sleep, but there was a light in the kitchen window of the bakery, which must mean Paula Schatz was already at work.
“I’m not under the bann, you know,” Seth said, sounding irritated.
“I know.” If Adam was going to make Chloe feel accepted, he could make a start with Seth. “If you are willing to take me, I’m grateful.”
