Susanna's Dream: The Lost Sisters of Pleasant Valley, Book Two (6 page)

Susanna’s expression softened. “Did you know her then?”

“I did. I got to know her during that terrible time of the accident. Do you want to hear about it?”

It was smart that the bishop began with Susanna’s love for Elizabeth. She might be more willing to listen. Still, Nate hoped that the bishop might use his influence to reconcile Susanna with her family, and not just because it would make things easier for him with the shop. He hated seeing anyone so alone as Susanna seemed to be.

Susanna hesitated for what seemed a long time. Finally she nodded. “Please.”

Bishop Mose leaned back in the rocker. “Ach, well, sometimes it’s hard to know where to begin. Your mother . . . your birth mother, that is, was named Diane Wentworth.”

Susanna came to attention at the name. “So she really was Englisch, then?”

“Ja. She met your father, Eli Weaver, when he was working out west. Eli’s family lived here in Pleasant Valley. Still does. But he had a yen to see a bit more of the world, so he went to Ohio, where he had kin.”

That fit together, Nate thought. Susanna and her parents had lived in Ohio before they came to Oyersburg.

“Apparently Diane had left home, and she didn’t seem to have anyone. But those two fell in love, and the way I heard it afterward, there was no turning back. Diane decided to become Amish, and by the time they moved back here, she had the language so well that folks who didn’t know would have a hard time guessing she’d ever been Englisch.”

He paused, as if waiting for Susanna to ask a question, but she remained silent. Nate stirred. It would be more natural for her to be besieging the bishop with questions.

So he asked one himself. “They lived at the orchard where Lydia and her husband live now?”

“Ja, that’s true. They had the three little girls—such sweet kinder.” The bishop sighed. “Chloe, the baby, was only about a year old when they decided to go to Ohio to the wedding of friends. You were three, and Lydia was five.” He paused for a moment. “A truck hit the van they were in.”

“Terrible,” Nate murmured. Folks sometimes feared driving on the busy roads in buggies, but a motor vehicle could be just as dangerous.

“Everyone was rushed to hospitals. It was hard to identify them, but eventually the police came to me. I went with the family to do what we could. Diane and Eli lingered for a day or two. You kinder were in three different hospitals. I thought a married couple should be with each of you to make decisions. Your father’s brother and his wife went with Lydia. Elizabeth and Jonah Bitler, close friends, went with you. But when a cousin and his wife reached the hospital where Chloe was, they found she’d already been taken away by Diane’s mother.”

The bishop stopped there, maybe to let Susanna take it in. Or maybe because it was difficult for him, remembering such a time.

Susanna stirred, smoothing her hand on her right leg. “I was injured in the accident.”

The bishop nodded. “Your leg was badly smashed. You had other injuries, too. The doctors didn’t hold out much hope for you, but Elizabeth never gave up. I always thought it was only Elizabeth’s love that brought you through.”

Tears shone in Susanna’s eyes, but she didn’t speak.

“Lydia was badly hurt, as well, with a head injury. Her aunt and uncle were just as devoted to her. She recovered, but she never remembered her life before the accident.”

“So they decided to split us up,” Susanna said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The bishop nodded. “Lydia’s parents wanted her to know the truth, but Elizabeth . . . well, she wanted you to believe she was your mamm. So, in the end, that’s how it was. Chloe was out of reach in the Englisch world, and it was agreed that this decision was best for the two of you.”

Bishop Mose frowned, staring down at his work-worn hands, slack in his lap. “We don’t know the future. We can only act as seems best at the time. If the decision was wrong, at least it was made out of love.”

“I understand,” Susanna said. “You did the best you could.”

That sounded rather final, Nate thought. Wasn’t Susanna going to ask the bishop anything? Her seeming lack of interest made Nate uncomfortable.

“Is there anything you want to ask?” he prompted.

“Ja.” She fixed her gaze on the bishop. “I understand Lydia found out the truth first. I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me then.”

“I fear you must blame me for that decision,” Bishop Mose said. “When Lydia came to me, I already knew how ill your mother was. I thought it might do more harm than good to tell you at such a time. What if it made Elizabeth’s last days difficult? I advised Lydia to wait. So if there is fault, it must come to me.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Finally Susanna seemed to realize she had to speak. “I don’t blame anyone. I guess it doesn’t really matter any longer. Now that I know—well, that’s an end to it. I don’t have to think about it anymore.”

That was so patently false that Nate exchanged glances with the bishop. Susanna was hurt. He could understand that feeling. But didn’t she want to know her own sisters?

Bishop Mose looked as if he were carefully sorting through the words he might say. “Nothing that happened was the fault of your sisters,” he said finally. “I hope you’ll give them a chance to get to know you.”

Another long silence passed. Nate was developing an urge to shake Susanna, as if that would make her see things more clearly.

“I . . . I’ll think about it,” she said.

Bishop Mose nodded, as if that was all he’d expected. “I pray that God will guide your decision. And if you think of any other questions, you will come to me, ain’t so?”

“Ja. Denke, Bishop Mose.” The words seemed wrung out of her. She got up. Not waiting for either of them, she hurried back into the shop, perhaps hiding her emotions.

It looked as if he and Bishop Mose had done all they could do for the present. Nate rose, pausing to murmur his thanks to Bishop Mose.

The bishop looked troubled. “Be sure she comes to me if she needs to talk about it, ja?”

Nate nodded. “I hope I didn’t do wrong in pushing her to see you.”

“I’m glad you did. Now, I think, we must wait and trust God to work this tangle out for the best.”

Waiting had never been Nate’s strong suit—or trust, for that matter. He followed Susanna back through the shop and out the front door.

He didn’t speak until they reached the sidewalk, when the vision of what he had hoped for from this meeting started slipping away.

“Komm, Susanna. Aren’t you cutting off your nose to spite your face? You have two sisters who want to know you. You can have family to help and support you. What is wrong with taking what is offered?”

Susanna tilted her head to look into his face, and her expression was one he’d never seen before. “Is that why you are being so helpful, Nathaniel? Because you think having this ready-made family will loosen my grip on the shop?”

“No, of course not.” He tried to sound offended at the notion. Tried to sound sure of himself.

Unfortunately, he knew in his heart that what she said was true.

* * *

If
he really intended to cool things off with Chloe, Seth reflected, he probably shouldn’t be searching after her on Saturday. He’d been telling himself that his job was, as it had been from the beginning, to serve as Chloe’s translator to Amish life, but he had a feeling that excuse was growing thin.

Still, excuses aside, he’d called her. And she’d said she was at the community market, held every Saturday at one of those fraternal lodge buildings that used to be prominent features in small Pennsylvania towns. This particular brick building, right on the main square in Oyersburg, had seen a variety of uses in recent years. The Saturday markets were especially popular, so he’d heard.

The large room on the first floor, once used for fraternal social events, was filled with a bewildering array of vendors. People crowded around tables featuring everything from doll clothes to woven baskets to racks of jams and jellies. Down at the end of the row, a local church group was doing a brisk business in sausage and pepper sandwiches.

He was staring around, trying to spot Chloe in the crowd, when someone tugged on his sleeve.

Chloe smiled at him. “You were so busy looking around, you missed me. This is great, isn’t it?”

“Are you saying that as a consumer or as a student of Pennsylvania folk art?” He nodded toward the bag she carried.

“A little of both,” she admitted. “I found some handmade jewelry I couldn’t resist.”

“Not an Amish vendor, then.” He took her arm and tugged her aside to avoid a woman pushing a stroller that contained, instead of a baby, several bags of milled flour.

“No, but I’ve heard there’s a stand run by an Amish family that has handspun yarn, and I’d love to find them.” She looked around, apparently infected with shopping fever.

“That’s probably the Brand family. I’ll help you locate them.”

Chloe nodded, but as they started down the row of vendors, her expression turned pensive.

“Problems?” he asked, keeping his tone light.

Chloe shook her head. “Not exactly. Lydia and I decided we’d wait a few days before trying to talk to Susanna again. Together, this time.”

“You’re not still blaming yourself for telling her, are you?”

“I don’t see anyone else around to blame, do you?” She shook her head. “Sorry. Lydia refuses to scold me for it, so I guess I have to do it myself.”

He pressed her hand, feeling her fingers curl around his. “Try forgiving yourself,” he suggested.

She smiled, but with a slight shake of her head. Chloe might sometimes be impulsive, but she also had high standards for herself. He’d seen that in her attention to her work and her family.

“You said you had something to tell me.” She paused at a table filled with crocheted baby caps and sweaters, fingering the soft wool as gently as if she touched the baby for whom it was intended.

“Right.” He pulled his thoughts away from the pleasure of watching her. “Apparently, if my sources are right, Susanna went to Pleasant Valley to see Bishop Mose yesterday.”

Chloe swung toward him, her eyes widening. “She did? Are you sure?”

“Sure as I can be without asking the bishop, and I can hardly do that. Paula Schatz saw her, and she was interested since she knew your mother. She knows Susanna by sight, as well as the man who was with her. Nathaniel Gaus, who runs the bulk foods store here in town.”

“That’s her partner’s son. The one who’s so eager for his mother to give up the shop.” Chloe’s eyes clouded. “I wonder what he was doing there with her.”

“I thought you’d be wondering what
she
was doing there,” he said.

“I am, of course, but I can figure that out. She’d have gone to Bishop Mose to see if the story I told her was true.” He could practically see the wheels turning in her head. “That’s a good sign, don’t you think? That shows she’s interested, and Bishop Mose would surely encourage her to see us. Maybe he’ll talk to Lydia about it.”

“Maybe,” Seth said, doubt shading the word. “But I suspect Bishop Mose has kept a lot of secrets in his time.”

“I guess he has.” She frowned, and he knew the secret she was thinking about—the secret that had kept her and Lydia apart for so long. She seemed to make an effort to smile. “In any event, thanks for telling me. We can hope it makes our visit to Susanna easier.”

He nodded. Whether the bishop’s words helped or not, he had a lot of confidence in Lydia’s tact. And, though Chloe wouldn’t like it, Susanna was more likely to respond to Lydia, who was Amish, than to an Englisch person, no matter how well intended.

He knew that line between Amish and Englisch—he’d been balancing on one side or the other for most of his life, it seemed. It was a difficult place to be.

He touched her arm. “Look, there’s the yarn you wanted to find.”

“Good.” Her face lit. “Don’t laugh, but I want to try crocheting a shawl for Lydia’s baby.”

“Why would I laugh?” He was relieved to see her attention slip into happier channels.

“Because my interest in the hand arts has always been strictly academic.” Her lips curved. “I think the last thing I made with my hands was a pot holder when I was about eight. But your mother promised to teach me how to do it, so I want to find the right yarn.”

His mother? That startled him. Mamm loved to knit, and she’d been doing more of that during her slow recovery from a broken hip this past winter. And Chloe had met his mother often enough at Lydia and Adam’s, but he hadn’t known their friendship had progressed to this stage. Maybe it was just as well that Chloe was already exclaiming over the yarn, so that she didn’t notice his surprise.

Sarah Brand leaned over the table, showing Chloe various colors of yarn, while her husband, Samuel, showed a customer what a newly sheared sheep’s pelt looked like. He glanced up, greeting Seth cheerfully in Pennsylvania Dutch. The customer moved off, and in a moment Seth and Samuel were deep into reminiscences of their teen years.

Eventually Seth pulled himself, laughing, from the tale of a certain livestock auction and the trouble a bunch of Amish teenage boys could find to get into. He caught Chloe studying him, a slight frown between her brows.

“Sorry. We were just reliving old times. Did you find what you wanted?”

A smile chased away the frown. “Look at this lovely yarn Sarah helped me choose. It’s perfect.”

He admired the yarn, a delicate shade of yellow suitable, he supposed, for either a boy or a girl. They chatted with the Brands for a few more minutes, and then he and Chloe moved off.

But somehow he felt as if he’d missed a step in the dark. What had been in Chloe’s mind when she saw him laughing with Samuel and looked at him that way?

Before he could decide whether to ask, his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, frowning at the name of the caller.

“The office. I’ll have to get someplace quieter to call back. I hope it doesn’t mean another trip next week. I want to go with my mother for her doctor’s appointment.”

“The commuting you do is getting old, isn’t it?” The question sounded casual, but Chloe didn’t look at him.