Authors: Marta Perry
Chloe spotted an Amish woman standing behind a folding table lined with jars of jam.
Her stomach clenched. How could her mother, brought up with every advantage of wealth
and education, have chosen to live like that woman did?
The light changed, Seth accelerated around the corner, and the woman disappeared.
“Here’s the restaurant.”
Even as he spoke she saw the sign—
THE PLAIN AND FANCY DINER
, it read, in a border of brightly colored hex symbols.
“We’re a little early,” he said, getting out of the car. “We’re probably ahead of
Lydia and Adam.”
He moved as if to come and open her door, but she forestalled him by sliding out quickly.
Together they walked to the entrance.
A bright-faced teenager, wearing a simple rose-colored dress and apron, her hair drawn
back under a white cap, welcomed them. “Two for lunch?” she asked.
Was she really Amish, or was that outfit a costume, as a seafood place’s servers might
be dressed in pirate costumes?
“I have a reservation,” Seth said. “Miller.”
The young woman consulted a chart and nodded. “Ja, Mr. Miller. You asked for a quiet
spot, so we’ll put you back in the alcove.”
They followed her between mostly unoccupied tables. That had been thoughtful of Seth,
to ask for a quiet spot. This meeting would be difficult enough without feeling that
other people were eavesdropping on the conversation.
Their table was tucked away around a corner. Chloe sat down, some cowardly part of
her mind suggesting that it wasn’t too late to turn around and go home. Seth passed
her a menu, decorated with more of the hex signs. She stared at them for a moment.
She was familiar with them, of course. Since she specialized in Pennsylvania folk
art, she could hardly help but be.
“Mesmerized by the distelfinks?” Seth asked.
She shook her head, managing a smile. “Amazing how examples of folk art hang on, isn’t
it?” She traced a hex sign with her fingertip. “I’ve never really understood why the
Amish don’t use hex signs on their barns.”
“That would be doing something just ‘for pretty,’ and that’s discouraged. To the Amish,
any object they make should be useful.”
“That seems rather harsh. Why would the church discourage artistic expression?”
They are nothing more than a cult.
Her grandmother’s voice echoed in her mind.
If your mother hadn’t joined them, she’d be here today.
“Objects can be both useful and beautiful,” Seth said, his voice mild. “I take it
you don’t know much about Amish beliefs.” He sounded disapproving, as if he’d expected
her to do her homework before coming here to meet Lydia.
Now that she thought about it, researching Amish customs should have been her first
response. As it was, she had little more than an instinctive impression of an outdated
patriarchal society that viewed women as subservient, and every independent bone in
her body rebelled at the very idea. Why hadn’t she reacted as any historian would
and looked into it for herself? Maybe her grandmother’s attitudes were ingrained in
her more deeply than she’d realized.
A flicker of panic touched her. “I guess I should have prepared myself better. I don’t
want to offend Lydia.”
“I doubt there’s anything you could do that would offend her.” Seth smiled, eyes crinkling.
“She’d forgive her little sister anything.”
Little sister.
Chloe’s breath caught. “I’ve never been a little sister before. I might not be good
at it.” Was she really asking Seth for reassurance? It certainly sounded that way.
He gave her hand a quick, comforting squeeze. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
And then he was standing, nodding to a couple coming toward them, a man in black pants,
a blue shirt, and suspenders, with a crisp, curling beard. A woman in a green dress,
apron to match, her head and face hidden by the brim of the black bonnet she wore.
Then the woman looked up, her gaze meeting Chloe’s, and Chloe’s heart gave an erratic
thump. This was her sister.
C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN
L
ydia
was vaguely aware of Seth standing behind a chair, but she only had eyes for the woman
who was getting up next to him. Chloe. Even though she’d seen the photo, Lydia wasn’t
quite prepared for her appearance.
Her little sister—silky reddish-brown hair, worn shining and short around her face,
wary-looking green eyes—had on a pair of tan-colored slacks with a fitted yellow cotton
shirt and a short denim jacket. A pendant hanging from a gold chain was an intricate
pattern of stained glass that looked handmade, and gold hoops swung from her earlobes.
She looked more like some of the college students Lydia had seen in Lewisburg than
the photo Seth had shown her.
Lydia was grateful for the firm clasp of Adam’s hand on her arm as she faced the truth.
Despite all she’d learned about Chloe, somewhere in her heart she’d been holding on
to an image of the baby sister who needed her.
She took a strangled breath, her thoughts forming an incoherent prayer. Somehow, she
had to rid herself of that false image of Chloe if she were to have a chance of finding
a kinship with the woman Chloe was now.
The table, she saw, was tucked away in a little alcove for privacy. She hesitated
a step away, irresolute. She might long to embrace her sister, but Chloe’s expression
didn’t give any hint that she would welcome that from a woman who was a stranger to
her.
“Here we are.” Seth’s voice had a forced heartiness, as if he found the situation
uncomfortable. “Chloe, this is Lydia Beachy. And her husband, Adam.”
Chloe didn’t move. Then, slowly, she held out her hand.
Lydia clasped it in both of hers, nearly overcome by the longing to draw her sister
close.
Not yet. Be careful.
“Chloe.” Her voice trembled on the name.
“Lydia. Adam.” Chloe nodded to each of them, reclaiming her hand. She didn’t offer
to shake hands with Adam, and a glance at Adam’s expression told Lydia why. His face
was a stern mask, with no hint of the warm person beneath.
“Come and sit down.” Seth covered the awkward moment by pulling out chairs. “The server
should be right with us. I imagine Chloe is hungry after her long drive.”
In the bustle of getting seated, Lydia managed to regain whatever calm she had. This
was her chance—maybe the only one she’d have—with her little sister. She couldn’t
let the opportunity slip away.
Chloe seemed to be eyeing her clothing, either in surprise or disapproval. Surely
she had seen folk in Amish dress before, but maybe not.
Lydia removed her bonnet, hung it on the back of the chair, and smoothed her hair
with a quick gesture. There, now, Chloe would be able to see her better.
She cleared her throat. “How long did it take you to come today, Chloe?” That soft,
hesitant voice surely wasn’t hers.
“A little over three hours. I stopped once to have some coffee.” She seemed to push
herself to speak again. “What about you?”
“It is only about a half an hour by car from Pleasant Valley. We hired a taxi for
the trip.”
“Amish taxis,” Seth put in lightly. “There are a number of people who enjoy driving
the Amish when they have to make a trip that’s too long for the horse and buggy.”
“Do you come to Oyersburg often?” Chloe sounded like someone making polite conversation
with a stranger, which was nearly the truth.
“Once in a while, for shopping,” Lydia said, with a quick thought for her visit to
Susanna’s store. “We don’t have much reason to leave Pleasant Valley.” Chloe probably
traveled at the drop of a hat, like many Englisch. She’d think them backward.
The server came just then, creating an interruption Lydia suspected they all welcomed.
She glanced at the menu and picked the first item that caught her eye, a chicken sandwich
she probably wouldn’t eat. Adam asked for a hot roast beef sandwich, and his predictability
almost made her smile. He would eat roast beef and gravy on the hottest day of the
summer, if she fixed it.
Across the table, Seth was pointing to something on Chloe’s menu, explaining the Pennsylvania
Dutch name. The simple gesture made her breath catch. Her own sister had to have their
food explained to her.
“Your grandmother doesn’t make schnitz und knepp?” she asked.
Chloe blinked. “My grandmother doesn’t cook. She has a housekeeper who takes care
of the meals.”
“Is your grandmother well?” Lydia couldn’t think of Margaret Wentworth without remembering
that she had taken Chloe away, but it would be rude not to inquire about her health.
She must be getting up in years.
“She’s fine.” Chloe’s tone was crisp. Was she out of sorts with her grandmother? Maybe
the discovery of her sisters had caused a rift, just as it had for Lydia.
She sought for something else to say. There seemed to be too much that she wanted
to say, but she didn’t want to frighten Chloe away. “You have a job at a museum, Seth
has told us. What do you do there?”
Chloe nodded. “The museum tells the story of the Pennsylvania Germans—their history,
art, and architecture. Right now I’m putting together a proposal for an educational
program for schoolchildren. And we’re also setting up a new display of hex signs and
other arts and crafts.” Her face seemed to brighten when she talked about her work,
as if it gave her pleasure.
“Ja? There are lots of barns in the county that have hexerei painted on them. Amish
don’t use them, but other Pennsylvania Dutch do.” Lydia shrugged. “And some Englisch,
I guess, who just think they’re pretty.”
“Seth mentioned why the Amish don’t put them on their barns.” Her voice seemed to
contain a challenge. “Painting a design on a barn seems a simple enough thing to me.”
How to explain so that she would understand? Apparently Seth hadn’t succeeded.
“We feel that things should be useful, not just pretty. That’s why we are Plain German
and the rest are Fancy, ja? Besides, some folks say the hex signs are a superstition.”
She tried to keep her tone light, not wanting to get into a disagreement with Chloe
already.
The server moved away, leaving them in their secluded little corner.
Your only chance,
Lydia reminded herself.
“I have looked forward to seeing you every minute since I found out about you,” she
said, unable to keep her voice from getting husky. “I think you must have questions.”
Maybe talking about it would move them past this awkwardness.
“Seth told me that you found out by accident.” Chloe darted a sidelong glance at Seth.
“Your adoptive parents kept that information from you?”
“Ja.” She didn’t want to say anything that would put Mamm and Daad in a negative light.
“I received a head injury in the accident, and I was a long time coming around. When
I did, I didn’t remember anything that happened before waking up in the hospital.”
She couldn’t prevent a small quaver in her voice. “They had to explain to me about
my parents. I think they felt that was enough grief for a five-year-old.”
And you had been stolen away by your grandmother.
But she couldn’t say that to Chloe.
“How did you find out?” Chloe was showing more interest now, her expression not quite
so stiff.
“My great-aunt mentioned it. She has been ill, and her mind was wandering a little.
She remembered my mother—our mother—playing in the orchard with her three little girls.
After that . . .” Lydia spread her hands. “Well, it all came out.”
“The orchard,” Chloe repeated. “So you live now where they lived then, Seth told me.
How did you come to have that place?”
“A cousin and his wife moved in and took care of the farm after the accident. Then
when Adam and I were getting married, they were ready to move out to Ohio to live
with their married daughter, so we took it over.” She hesitated, startled by a truth
that should have been obvious to her from the start. “I guess the land really belongs
to all three of us.”
Chloe shook her head quickly. “I wouldn’t know what to do with an orchard. Anyway,
my life is in the city. You like living there?”
She smiled, wondering if Chloe could possibly understand. “I love it.” She glanced
at Adam. “We are very happy there. Our little boys play in the orchard, just like
we did when we were small.”
Chloe smiled, her face lightening as she seemed to relax, at least for a moment. “Since
I was a baby, I probably didn’t do much playing.”
“Seth’s mother told me that our mother liked to bring us all to the orchard. She would
spread out a quilt for you to roll around on.”
Chloe’s smile seemed fixed, as if she’d forgotten it was on her face. Maybe she was
more affected by the image than she wanted to let on. If only Chloe would let Lydia
see the person she really was, instead of the facade she presented.
Their food arrived then, halting the conversation as the server put dishes in front
of them and refilled water glasses.
Chloe had played it safe, it seemed, ordering chicken salad on a croissant instead
of one of the Pennsylvania Dutch dishes. Adam bowed his head for the silent prayer,
and Lydia did likewise. When she looked up again, Chloe was watching her, but she
turned away quickly with a request for salt.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Lydia had to choke down a bite of the chicken
sandwich. They were talking on the surface, and she had no idea how Chloe really felt
about suddenly discovering that she had Amish kin.
Chloe looked up, and their eyes met. For a moment Chloe seemed to lose her place,
as if forgetting what she’d intended to say.
She took a sip of water. “You and Adam have children.”
“Two boys, Daniel and David.” Lydia hesitated, her glance inviting Adam to say more
about the boys. But he was eating his roast beef stolidly, seeming oblivious to the
conversation. “Daniel is eight, and David is six,” she went on. “They are in third
grade and first grade.”
She’d have to make sure David was practicing his Englisch. He’d need it when Chloe
came to visit. She would, wouldn’t she?
“Do you have pictures of them?” Chloe was smiling again, seeming confident that Lydia
would produce photographs.
“No, I . . .” She trailed off, looking at Seth for help.
“The Amish don’t have photographs taken,” he explained. “They believe it violates
the Bible’s injunction about creating graven images.”
“No pictures of your children?” Chloe’s voice lifted slightly in disbelief.
“That’s their understanding of the Bible,” Seth said, a bit of warning in his voice.
“If you come to visit, you’ll see them for yourself,” Lydia said quickly. “They would
be so excited to meet their aunt.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Adam’s hand tighten on his fork, and she could
feel his tension through the few inches that separated them. If he said anything to
keep Chloe away—
But he didn’t speak, and after a moment the tension eased out of him. Lydia took a
calming breath.
Chloe didn’t seem to be paying attention to Adam, though. She studied the remains
of her croissant for a moment, and then she met Lydia’s glance. “Aren’t you going
to tell me about Susanna?”
Lydia could hardly miss the fact that Chloe had ignored the invitation to visit, but
she tried to shake it off and concentrate on the question.
“Susanna was also hurt in the accident,” she said. “Afterward, when the family was
trying to decide what to do and we were all in different hospitals, an Amish couple
who were good friends of our mamm and daad from an Ohio Amish community came to help.
They stayed at the hospital with Susanna, and it was decided that they would adopt
her.”
“So she’s in Ohio?” Chloe sounded impatient for her to get on with the story.
“No, actually, she and her adoptive mother moved back to Pennsylvania after her father
died. Susanna was only three at the time of the accident, and they raised her to believe
they were her parents. So as far as she’s concerned, she is Susanna Bitler.”
“You said she moved back to Pennsylvania.” Chloe’s voice was sharp, and she leaned
toward Lydia as if to force an answer. “Where?”
She could not repeat other people’s mistakes and fail to tell Chloe the truth. “She
and her mother live here in Oyersburg.”
“Here? Then why didn’t you invite her to meet us? We could have all been together.”
“Susanna doesn’t know,” she said, trying to sort out the best way of explaining. “I
went to see her, to the shop she and another lady run. I hoped . . . well, it doesn’t
matter. The fact is that her mother is very ill. She has cancer, and it looks as if
she won’t recover. Susanna has such a lot to bear now. How could I make it worse by
telling her that her mother is not really her mother?”
Chloe’s chin looked determined. “She has a right to know the truth.”
“Ja, she does. But I don’t have the right to hurt a dying woman.” She sent up a silent,
fervent prayer that Chloe would understand. “And I don’t think you do, either.”
“Do you think they . . . your adoptive parents, my grandmother, this cousin . . .
did wrong by hiding the truth from us all these years?” Chloe’s eyes seemed to shoot
sparks. So she had a temper, this baby sister.
“Ja, I think they were wrong, even though they were doing what they thought they must.
But Susanna—” She leaned across the table, reaching for Chloe’s hand. “I’m not saying
to never tell Susanna. Just not right now. You understand, don’t you?”
Their gazes clashed, but it was Chloe’s that dropped first. “You may be right,” she
said, even though her voice said she doubted it.
I am losing her.
Despair filled Lydia’s mind.
I have only this one chance with Chloe, and I am losing her.
Chloe found she was looking into Lydia’s eyes, seeing something—a connection, maybe?
Lydia touched her hand, and a wave of recognition went through Chloe, confusing her.
“Please understand.” Lydia’s voice was soft. “I don’t want anyone to be hurt.”