As his brothers chatted with Seth, Luke filled his plate and returned to the table. He recalled how Seth had rescued Mary Kauffman mere hours before she gave birth at the local clinic—and how the idea of getting romantically involved with a widow who had three little kids had repelled him. It was nearly the same situation Adam Wagler had married into yesterday, agreeing to raise Annie Mae’s four little siblings and take in her teenage sister, Nellie. Adam was asking for trouble, too, because Hiram Knepp wouldn’t leave well enough alone. What was it with these bachelors who’d sacrificed their happy lives to raise other men’s kids?
Well, now that you’re thirty, what sort of women are left to hook up with? They’ve all been married, and they all carry baggage—
“Here you go, Luke.” Rebecca set their three mugs of coffee on the table along with Ira’s milk. “I’ll be back in a few to be sure everything’s the way you like it.”
“
Denki
, Rebecca,” Luke murmured. He’d had his share of fantasies about their waitress—Miriam’s daughter had been raised by adoptive English parents after they’d rescued her during a flood years ago. She was a looker, she was single, and she made no bones about keeping her computer business rather than joining the Old Order. It was a combination he found very attractive.
And yet, as Ben and Ira took their seats at the table and began to eat, Luke’s thoughts wandered toward his new redheaded neighbor. Nora Landwehr was divorced, Hiram had said, but he hadn’t revealed why a woman who could afford such a prime property would choose to move to Willow—
Luke’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. Nora was standing in the kitchen doorway!
She wore a brown cape dress with a matching apron and a white
kapp
. Her pale face and tight expression quelled Luke’s urge to blurt out a greeting, but he watched her pass between the tables with great interest. Why was she dressed Plain? And why would she be heading toward the corner where Bishop Tom and Gabe Glick were sitting? Ira was digging into his breakfast, but Ben sat taller, watching Nora as though he sensed something intense was about to happen.
The chatter around them masked what Nora was saying. Bishop Tom’s eyes widened in recognition as Gabe Glick threw down his fork and struggled to his feet. His scowl could’ve soured cream—and Nora stepped back when he flashed it at her. She said something else to the old preacher, pleading with wide eyes that spoke of great pain and remorse, but Gabe pointed vehemently toward the door.
“Get thee behind me, Satan!” he snapped.
The dining room went silent. As all eyes turned to witness the drama unfolding in the corner, Luke didn’t care what quarrel the old preacher had with Nora. A protective urge surged within him and he stood up so fast, his chair fell over backwards.
Ben grabbed his wrist. “Leave it be, Luke,” he murmured. “We need to let God’s will run its course.”
The bell above the door jangled, but Luke didn’t turn to see who’d come in. His list of reasons for not joining the Old Order had just gotten longer. Gabe began to hobble from the table, slapping Nora’s arm when she tried to assist him. Murmurs rose around the room and Tom stood up.
“Gabe, there’s a better way,” the bishop insisted as he caught up to the preacher. “Maybe it’s time to reconsider—”
“I don’t
have
a daughter,” Gabe huffed as he shuffled toward the door. Then he raised his head. “Millie. Take me home, child.
Now
.”
Luke turned in time to see Millie’s hands fly to her mouth. She was staring so intently at Nora that she didn’t realize the door was opening behind her, or that Hiram Knepp couldn’t come inside. As the excommunicated bishop of Willow Ridge took in the scene, his coal-black mustache and goatee made him look downright wicked. A grin lit his chiseled face. He knew exactly what was happening, and he was delighted to be watching it play out.
Did he orchestrate this scene ?
Luke mused. Hiram had surely seen Millie entering the café. Perhaps he’d been lurking near the smithy or peering into the window of the Sweet Seasons kitchen, aware that Nora was inside. Luke wondered how long Nora had been back there with Miriam and Naomi, but he had no such questions about Knepp’s motives. Hiram’s devious ways knew no limits.
Millie backed away from her grandfather, as though his scowl and words frightened her. Hiram stepped in then, offering the preacher a steadying arm. “Got you covered, Gabe,” he murmured. “We keepers of the faith have to stick together.”
And what did
that
mean ?
When Luke looked from Millie to Nora, his previous speculations about his new neighbor began spinning in his gut. Gabe might have just denied that he had a daughter, but there was no getting around it: Nora and Millie were kin. Luke doubted the old preacher would be making such a fuss if Nora were Millie’s aunt, so did this mean . . . ?
This was no time to ponder such a startling idea, however. As Ben and Ira made their way toward Millie, Luke strode between the tables to where Miriam had slung her arm around Nora’s shoulders. “Are you all right?” he asked earnestly. “I don’t know what that was all about, but—”
“You will,” Nora rasped. “You and everybody else have just witnessed my humiliation—”
“Honey-bug, ya did your best,” Miriam insisted. “Ya made the first move, tryin’ to make peace with your
dat
about your daughter, and ya knew it might not go so well.”
So there you have it. Nora
is
Millie’s mother.
Luke fought the urge to grasp Nora’s shoulder. Miriam’s protective tone implied that Nora was no stranger to her. The recollection of her red BMW racing away from the Glick place took on a whole new meaning for him: Nora had grown up in that house and had been banished. Yet she’d come back.
From across the crowded café, the expression on Millie’s face tore at him. She didn’t know Nora, but on a gut level she was piecing this puzzle together, just as he was. “Nora, how can I help?” Luke murmured. “If you want to speak with Millie—”
“We could let ya into the quilt shop, where it’s private,” Miriam suggested. “The Schrocks won’t open it until nine.”
When Nora gazed again at the girl who could be her double, Millie pivoted toward the door. Ira and Ben went outside with her, talking in low voices.
“I’ve blown it again,” Nora whimpered. “Why did I think this reunion was a good idea? Or that it would go as I’d seen it in my mind, hundreds of times?”
“Seems to me you’ve got two choices,” Miriam insisted gently. “Ya can catch Millie now, while Ben’s with her. Or ya can wait. I can understand why you’d like some time to get your nerves together again. And I can see where leavin’ this to hang—takin’ your chances that other folks might tell her things ya wish they hadn’t—might make it even harder to approach her next time.”
“I’ll go with ya, if ya want,” Bishop Tom offered as he approached them. “This isn’t an easy situation you’ve set yourself up for, Nora, but I believe you’ve done the right thing.”
“I’ll go with you, too, if you’d like,” Luke murmured. “Or I can get Ira out of your way so you and Millie can talk. He means well, but sometimes he doesn’t have a clue.”
When Nora gazed up at him, Luke’s stomach did a flip-flop. Her eyes shone like honey mixed with cinnamon and gratitude. Red flags flapped in his mind, warning him that he was getting way too involved in a sticky situation, yet he held her gaze, awaiting her answer.
Nora grabbed his hand. “Let’s catch them before they cross the road, or—well, before Millie gets hurt any further.”
Luke followed her outside, sucking in fresh air to fortify himself. Nora’s hand felt like a branding iron but he couldn’t let go. They spotted his two brothers walking on either side of Millie, slowly heading up the lane toward the Lantz house. Ira was holding her hand while Ben was talking to her, his head bent near the
kapp
that covered her auburn bun. When they stepped into the grass near the apple trees, Nora clutched Luke’s hand.
“Wait!” she called out. “Millie,
please
wait for me.”
Chapter Seven
Millie stopped. The woman’s voice sounded achingly familiar even as she knew that was impossible. Surely the thudding of her heart and the rush of her thoughts were affecting her hearing because—except for a glance at this woman yesterday, when she’d worn shorts and a sparkly ball cap instead of a cape dress and a
kapp
—Millie had never seen this stranger.
But deep down, Millie vibrated with the truth.
She closed her eyes. Maybe if she pretended this wasn’t happening, she’d awaken to find she’d been caught up in a bad dream. She could forget that yesterday she’d learned her
dat
had a sister, yet moments ago her grandfather had denied he had a daughter. She could chalk it all up to a huge misunderstanding or a coincidence that someone who looked just like her had bought the house on Bishop’s Ridge Road.
That someone was approaching her now, even as Millie squeezed her eyes tighter.
“Come on, Ira. Let’s make ourselves scarce,” Luke said from a few feet behind her.
How ironic that yesterday Ira had been drooling over this woman—
Would ya look at those wheels!
—yet now he was standing with
her
. Millie released his hand when he eased it away.
“This’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to, Millie,” Ben murmured as he went with his brothers. “We’ll all be prayin’ for ya.”
Millie nearly begged Ben to stay, but her throat was too tight to say anything.
So she stood alone, with the breeze teasing her skirt and her
kapp
strings. The apple trees whispered in the morning sunlight that warmed her face. Millie sensed this moment would be etched in her memory forever, whether or not she wanted it to happen. She’d once considered herself reasonably intelligent and perceptive, yet the knots in her stomach suggested that she’d remained blissfully unaware of the unspoken truth, like a mushroom growing in a dark cave.
How is that you’re the last one to know
?
“Millie. I . . . I don’t know what to say, honey. But I love you
so much
.”
“Who
are
you? Why are you here?” Millie blurted. She crossed her arms tightly, in case this woman tried to grasp her hand.
“I’m your mother, Millie,” the woman replied in a breathless voice. “I’m sorry we got off to a rough start. I never intended to hurt—”
“
You
got off to a bad start!” Millie retorted. “I was minding my own business, taking care of my grandparents and—”
“Thank you for doing that. I admire you for giving up your
rumspringa
,” the woman continued in a voice that hitched a time or two. “It should’ve been me taking care of them in their old age.”
“So why didn’t you?” Millie demanded.
The stranger sighed. She was still standing behind Millie, not touching her but so close that the heat of their bodies mingled. “Your grandfather ordered me out of the house when we learned you were on the way,” she murmured. “He said I was evil. Told me never to come back again.”
Millie winced. She had no trouble believing that stern, stoic Dawdi had said such awful things, but she wouldn’t give this stranger a moment’s sympathy. “So why did you?”
“I—I wanted to make amends. Wanted to ask forgiveness, especially of
you
, Millie, because I was hoping we could be together. Not a day has gone by that I didn’t think of you, or wish I’d done things differently.”
Millie pivoted. “So ya bought Hiram’s house? And ya came here with your shiny red car and your English clothes, thinkin’ that would make everything
right
with me?” she demanded shrilly. “Let me tell ya somethin’, lady. Lizzie Glick is my
mamm
, and she would never
ever
do those things to make me love her. Leave me alone! Get out of my life!”
With no idea of where she might go, Millie took off across the Lantz orchard. She passed beside the big white house where Miriam’s daughter Rachel and her husband, Micah Brenneman, now lived, then curved left at the pasture where Dan Kanagy’s sheep watched her through the fence as they chewed their grass. She kept going, past the new house Seth Brenneman was building for Mary Kauffman and her kids, without really seeing any of these things through her tears.
Except for Mary, who was new in town, did
all
of these neighbors know that Atlee and Lizzie Glick weren’t her birth parents? Did they remember that
Nora
woman from when she’d lived here, and recall the reason she’d left town?
Why didn’t anybody tell me the truth? I’ve trusted everyone in town—especially the people I believed were my parents—only to find out they’ve been keeping a huge secret about who I really am.
“Liars,” Millie muttered as she continued past Bishop Tom’s dairy farm and onto the gravel road.
Every last one of them’s a liar—my grandparents, the bishop, Miriam, Mamm and Dat. It would serve them right if they all went to hell for their lies!
Blinded by tears, she stopped where the road forked. One path led around in a circle that defined the edge of Willow Ridge and then ran in front of the Wagler place and Bishop’s Ridge to the Hooleys’ new mill, while the other path led toward home and eventually to Morning Star and Higher Ground.
But is that really home now? How can ya face those people again, knowing they’re not really your parents ? Knowing they’ve kept the truth from ya for your entire life?
For a brief moment, it comforted Millie to realize that Atlee Glick wasn’t her father. He was a difficult man, with a chip on his shoulder and a short fuse. She had his red hair and freckles, but he was actually her uncle.
No, you got your looks from that Nora woman. Who was your father, really
?
Millie mopped her face with her apron. So many questions overwhelmed her that she couldn’t think straight. She didn’t want to return to her grandparents’ place, because Dawdi would be in a foul mood and Mammi would be upset—and
they
had kept the truth from her, too. And she certainly didn’t want to deal with Mamm—
um, Aunt Lizzie?
—even though she’d had the decency to look upset yesterday when she’d heard Nora had returned. And she’d at least hinted to Millie that something huge was about to happen.
So where should she go? What should she do until she could figure out how to handle this life-changing information?
Millie walked slowly along the road that circled Willow Ridge. She passed a few neatly kept places that belonged to various Schrock families, including the three women who ran the quilt shop next door to Miriam’s café. In her present state of mind, a stroll along the river sounded like the best way to deal with her churning emotions. As she got closer to the mill, maybe she would confide in Ira, who’d so gallantly held her hand and taken her side—and maybe she wouldn’t. In his way, he’d betrayed her, too, by ogling his new neighbor . . .
who is my mother.
It was all so confusing.