by Marta Perry
It was characteristic of Noah that once he’d decided to speak, he didn’t waver or indulge in second thoughts. He went ahead steadily with what he had to do. She wondered briefly whether that was a result of his childhood. It couldn’t have been an easy one.
“Hmm.” Jamison studied Joanna’s face, and she felt herself blush. “I can’t say I see it myself. I mean, the hair’s different, and her face had makeup, but I guess there might be some resemblance. You have any relations among the Englisch, Joanna? Someone who jumped the fence and maybe married out there?”
She shook her head. “Not that I know of. I’ve never heard any talk of it.”
“You might not,” he observed. “I’ve known some Amish that didn’t like to talk about the ones who left.”
“Yah, but...” She hesitated, not sure she wanted to get into the story of her birth. Still, if Jamison was intent on this, he’d easily find out. “My birth mother was actually Mamm’s distant cousin out in Ohio. She died in childbirth, and Mamm and Daad adopted me when I was just a few days old.”
It was an old story, and one she seldom thought about now. She’d never doubted that Mamm and Daad cherished her as much as if she’d been born to them.
“I don’t know a lot about that side of the family, but I think my mamm would have mentioned it,” she added.
Or would she? Mamm never talked about Joanna’s birth mother. Once Joanna was old enough to understand, she’d realized that it hurt her mother if she showed curiosity about that side of the family, so she didn’t. There was too much happening now to dwell in the past anyway.
“I don’t think I knew about you being adopted,” Jamison said, “but I don’t guess it matters. Either way, I think it’d be best if I saw the two of you side by side.” The chief gave Joanna a measuring look, as if questioning how much he could ask of her. “How would you feel about going up to the hospital with me?”
“Now?” She was startled by how little she wanted to do that.
“Good as any time. Your aunt’s not here?” He glanced around, as if expecting Aunt Jessie to be behind a bolt of fabric. Not, of course, that she’d have refrained from offering her opinion if she were here.
“She’ll be back by early afternoon. Maybe I could come then?”
But Chief Jamison seemed eager to move. “You can open a little late.” It was a statement, not a question, so she reached for her sweater and picked up her keys.
“I’ll come, too.” Noah fell into step with her. “It was my thinking that got you into this, yah?”
“I haven’t forgotten,” she said. “If my parents hear about my riding through town in a police car, you can explain it to them.”
“Can’t do that,” he said with the faintest flicker of a smile. “The bishop might put me under the bann for bearing bad news.”
Her heart lightening at his gentle teasing, Joanna locked the shop and slid into the police car.
* * *
NOAH HESITATED FOR a moment, looking back at his store. He couldn’t afford the luxury of not opening on time, not with the competition from that new hardware chain out near the highway. But young Caleb should be able to manage on his own for a bit, and he also couldn’t let Joanna go alone. He’d owe the same support to any member of the Leit.
Joanna was watching him as he got in. “Problem with the store?”
“No, nothing.” Any troubles he had he’d keep to himself. “My little bruder came in with me today. He can take care of things until I get back.”
“Which one? Caleb or Joshua?”
“Caleb,” he said, a little surprised she remembered the younger ones’ names. “Aaron claims he’s always making excuses to get away from the farm chores.”
He and his next brother, Aaron, had split responsibilities for the family between them after Daad’s death. Aaron ran the farm with the younger boys to help, and Noah kept the store going. Maybe they’d eventually be able to pay off their father’s debts and make things safe for Mamm and the younger ones. He jerked his thoughts back to what Joanna was saying.
“Maybe Caleb isn’t a born farmer. My daad says he’s fortunate to have at least a couple of my brothers with a feel for the land, because you can’t force it.”
She looked as if she were talking at random, probably trying to keep her mind off what was coming. It wouldn’t be long, though. Already they were headed up the slight hill where the redbrick hospital sat, so far holding off against any plans to merge it with a bigger hospital system.
Chief Jamison pulled up near the entrance and parked the police car. They got out, and Joanna smoothed her hands down her skirt in a nervous gesture. Regretting he’d spoken up would do no good now. And besides, Joanna would be the last person to hold back a word that could help another person.
No one seemed to take a second look when they walked through the hospital lobby. Maybe people in a hospital situation were too intent on their own problems to wonder about others. The elevator whisked them up to the third floor, and he heard Joanna suck in a deep breath as the doors opened.
“She’s right down here.” Chief Jamison led the way down the hall. “We made sure she’s in a private room, just in case.”
In case of what? Noah wondered, but they’d already reached the door. Jamison stopped a nurse who was coming out as they went in. “Any change?”
The man shook his head. “Still the same. She’ll be having another scan later this morning.” He nodded to them and went on his way, apparently not curious as to why his patient was having Amish visitors.
Once they were inside the room, Noah took one look at the still figure surrounded by machines and monitors and had to fight down the urge to flee. The sight seemed to have the opposite effect on Joanna. Her face filled with sympathy, she went directly to the bed and put her hand lightly over the one that lay slack on the white coverlet.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, though it was obvious the woman didn’t respond.
“Do you think she can hear you?” He asked the question carefully, not wanting to upset Joanna, but doubting the unconscious woman, attached as she was to monitors, could respond.
“I’ve heard that sometimes unconscious people can hear. And even if she can’t, perhaps she’ll sense that someone is wishing her well.” Joanna kept her gaze on the motionless face.
“Maybe.” What did he know about it? He hadn’t been inside a hospital in years, if ever.
“Go ahead and talk to her, Joanna.” Jamison approached the other side of the bed. “It can’t hurt. If she could open her eyes and tell us anything, we’d be a lot further on than we are now.”
Joanna nodded, seeming unperturbed by the idea. If she’d been reluctant to come, she seemed to be over it now. She spoke softly, intent on the woman, assuring her that she was going to be all right. It was more than he’d be able to do, for sure.
But Jamison frowned at him, seeming annoyed that Noah hung back. “Come over here where you can see both of them. Tell me what you think.”
Reluctantly, he came nearer. If he could say he didn’t see any resemblance, this might be over. But that wouldn’t be true. Since Joanna had started her shop next to his, he’d spent a lot more time than he should noticing her. And like it or not, he saw a resemblance.
Joanna, apparently just realizing that they were both looking from her face to that of the unknown woman, gave her a searching stare and then looked toward them.
“I can’t see it. The hair color is completely different.” She touched a strand of her light brown hair, pushing it back toward her kapp.
“Yah, but look at the shape of her face.” He sketched the line in the air. “Her jaw is just as stubborn as yours is.”
“I think he’s got you there,” Jamison said, suppressing a chuckle. “It isn’t proof, but looking at you side by side, I can see some resemblance.”
Her expression troubled, Jo
anna clasped the woman’s hand in both of hers. “Who are you? If only we knew, we could have your family here with you.” She glanced at Jamison, her brown eyes darkening. “Isn’t there anything you can do? If you showed her picture around, someone might know her.”
“We’ve done that already at the likely places where she might have stopped for gas or to get something to eat. No one has seen her. The next step is looking for a car and checking out the bus service.” Frustration gave an edge to his voice. “Did either of you notice a car you didn’t recognize parked near the store?”
Joanna shook her head. “I wasn’t noticing when I walked back from the bus. I don’t really know much about cars, so even if I had, it wouldn’t be much help.”
Jamison’s gaze flicked to Noah. “You see anything?”
Again, the answer was negative. “I didn’t go out front, but I glanced around. For sure there wasn’t any vehicle parked in the alley or in the back.”
“Well, she had to get to River Haven somehow. A private car seems more likely than the bus for someone who dresses so expensively. Leaving aside any resemblance between you, are you sure there’s no reason why she’d come to your door?” Jamison’s tone had become brusque, maybe with frustration.
Noah moved a little closer to Joanna, but she seemed to take Jamison’s sharp tone in stride, maybe realizing that his annoyance was directed at his lack of success rather than anything she had done.
“Nothing, I’m sorry. I wish I could say otherwise, but I’m fairly sure I’d remember her if she’d ever been in the shop.” She nodded toward the bronze hair that lay against the pillow. “You don’t often see someone with hair like that, and it would have stuck in my mind.”
“Nobody has contacted the shop, maybe looking for something—like a particular kind of quilt or whatever?” He grimaced at his own question, as if wondering whether it made sense. “Well, I don’t know anything about quilts, but I guess it could happen.”
Joanna’s lips twitched, but she managed to hold back a smile. “It does happen sometimes, that someone will call. But there hasn’t been anything recently.”
“You’d think if she’d wanted to see you in the evening like that, she’d have set it up ahead of time,” Noah pointed out. “And that wouldn’t account for the resemblance anyway.”
“Resemblance or not, I need something more solid in order to identify the woman. Maybe she’ll wake up and remember everything, and maybe she won’t.” Jamison moved restlessly, as if any activity would be better than doing nothing. “What if the doctors have to make some decisions about her care?”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Joanna’s ready sympathy had turned toward Jamison. “I wish I could be more help.”
He shrugged. “If you’ve no idea why she was at your door, well, you don’t.”
Joanna, seeming to take that for dismissal, stood. “If there’s nothing else I can do...”
“Hold on a minute. We haven’t even talked about the possibility that she’s some relative of yours. You sure there’s not somebody who jumped the fence? Maybe a brother or sister of your mamm’s or daad’s? Or of that cousin you were born to?”
“They’ve never talked about it, but I suppose I can ask, if you want.”
Joanna didn’t look particularly eager, probably because she knew her father wouldn’t want his daughter involved with the police. Noah felt sympathy for the bishop for a moment. He didn’t like the idea, either, even though he was at least partly responsible for it.
“You do that,” Jamison said. “With all this talk recently about DNA testing and tracing your ancestors, it’s at least possible that’s what brought her to your door.”
* * *
JOANNA BROODED ON the chief’s words as they drove back to the store. Like many Amish, her mother kept a meticulous family tree that showed every detail of the family, but the tree was of Daad’s family, not hers. Mamm’s distant cousin wouldn’t appear on it.
Still, she’d think that between Mamm and Aunt Jessie, her mother’s older sister, she’d have heard something about her birth mother’s kin. The idea of a distant relationship between her and the injured woman seemed unlikely to her, but she couldn’t quite dismiss it from her mind, either.
Chief Jamison had made the drive without talking, occupied with his own thoughts. When he pulled up at the shop, he roused himself.
“Thanks, both of you. I’ll let you know when we get some answers.”
Joanna slid out of the car, relieved the trip to the hospital was over, but knowing she couldn’t forget about it. The woman would continue to haunt her until there were answers.
She glanced at Noah. Did he feel the same? But Noah seemed far more occupied with his hardware store than anything else. He was already turning in that direction.
“Denke, Noah. It was gut of you to go along.” She spoke quickly, aware of his impatience.
He paused, clearly eager to get back to work. “I was the one who insisted on a resemblance, ain’t so? It was my responsibility.”
No, it was hers. After all, she was the one who’d gone running to him. If she were a properly independent woman, she’d have dealt with finding an unconscious woman on her doorstep on her own. She could have, she supposed, but she was glad she didn’t have to.
Noah had already pulled open the door to his store, obviously forgetting her problems in an instant. Reminding herself that she could handle this on her own, Joanna marched into her own shop. Without glancing toward the street, she turned her mind to getting ready to open.
She started by uncovering the handmade quilts she displayed on a mock bed in the center front of the store. Working with the fabrics and stroking the intricate hand stitching always brought her comfort. Slowly, she relaxed, focusing on business instead of all the trouble the woman had brought to her door. She tried to believe the woman would wake up soon, and then all their questions would be answered.
Joanna hadn’t even begun to expect Aunt Jessie when the bell on the door jangled and she appeared, dropping her small bag as soon as she was in the door. “Glad that’s over,” Aunt Jessie said, frowning in a way that didn’t bode well for her relationship with her other sister, the oldest of the family.
Joanna had to suppress a smile. Visits between the sisters always followed the same pattern—the eagerness to get together, the laughter and the chatting, the flare of argument and the quick return home of whichever was visiting.
They must, she’d always thought, have been too close to each other in age. Neither of them quarreled at all with Joanna’s mother, who was much younger than both of them.
“Did you have a nice visit?” she asked, ignoring the storm signals.
“Nice?” Her aunt’s voice rose slightly, and then she made a visible effort to control herself. “Nice enough, I guess. It would be even better if Norah would keep her opinions to herself.”
“What is it now?”
“If I were to tell you how foolish she is...” Aunt Jessie set her thin lips firmly. With her narrow face and bony figure, she was the exact opposite of Joanna’s mother, and she had a steely eye that never failed to intimidate a child entering the store from putting a finger on a bolt of fabric.
“Never mind that,” she said emphatically. “What’s this I hear about you having the police around here?”
It had come even quicker than she’d anticipated. “How did you hear about that?”
“I heard a garbled account from the bus driver, but I can see for myself that you’re all right, so I suppose it was all a fairy tale, as usual.”
Any other time she’d laugh at her aunt’s characteristic dismissal of gossip, but not this time.
“Not a story, I’m afraid,” she said, and went on to tell her aunt everything that had happened the previous night. She felt as if she’d repeated it so often it could tell itself.
“So anyway, the poor woman
is still unconscious this morning. I feel terrible about it, and it’s even worse that she was hurt right at our back door.”
Aunt Jessie gave her usual sharp nod. “Bad business, but it’s not your fault,” she said, tersely dismissing any notion that they were responsible. “If I’d been here... But I wasn’t, and there’s no use crying over spilt milk, either. So Noah Troyer came and helped, did he?”
Hoping the question wasn’t critical, she nodded. “I was glad to have him. He called for the ambulance and helped them get the stretcher out of the stairway. And today—”
“Today what?” Jessie eyed her keenly.
“Well, Chief Jamison wanted us to go to the hospital. They—he and Noah—both thought the woman looked a bit like me.”
She stopped when Aunt Jessie abruptly swung around, seeming to stare out the window. Her back was even more rigid than usual.
“Go on,” her aunt said without turning around. “Why did you stop?”
“No reason. I just wondered...is it even possible the woman is related to us? I mean, if some relative jumped the fence and had a family, I suppose there might be a daughter about my age who had a family resemblance.”
“Sounds like a pack of nonsense to me.” Her aunt’s common sense came through strongly. “I’d forget the whole thing, except to pray for the woman. We’ll all do that.”
“I guess it’s unlikely.” But she couldn’t quite dismiss the possibility. “Chief Jamison thought maybe it was someone trying to trace their family tree. You know how people will have a DNA test and then go looking for relatives.”
She might not follow what was going on in the Englisch world, but everyone had heard of that, hadn’t they?
“I still say it’s nonsense...”
It was a characteristic response from her aunt, who tended to dismiss anything outside her own world as nonsense. Joanna would generally tease her until they both dissolved in laughter. For all her tart manner, Aunt Jessie had a lively imagination hidden behind a dour exterior, and she saw humor in all kinds of things that other Amish might not talk about.
