The Amish Midwife

THIRTY


Assisted you? In Ada’s birth?”

Truly, I didn’t understand what she was saying. When I was two, I was living on the other side of the country. How could I possibly have been here when my baby sister was being born? I said as much to Marta now, but she didn’t reply at first. Instead, she just watched me as I thought it through. Finally, the truth hit me like a slam of ice water against my chest, knocking me breathless.

“I wasn’t given away as an infant,” I whispered. “I lived here longer than that.”

Marta nodded. “You lived here until you were two and a half. Then you went away.”

I was dumbfounded. This knowledge generated a flood of new questions, which I began throwing out to Marta now. She shook her head, pursed her lips, and looked out the side window, refusing to answer a single one. Wanting to throttle her, to scream, to pound my fists, instead I gripped the steering wheel and kept my eyes on the road, not responding to Marta or speaking all the way back to the cottage.

As we turned into the driveway, I could feel my anger slowly melting into something else entirely, a deep and overwhelming grief. By the time I parked the car, tears were coursing down my cheeks. Once inside, upstairs in the alcove, I buried myself under the covers and sobbed, not caring who heard me or what they might be thinking.

The lie in Marta’s words pierced my very soul: Then you went away. How wrong she was. I hadn’t merely gone away. I had been sent away. Banished. Ripped from the only home and family I had ever known, not as a relatively unknowing infant but as a little girl. A little two-year-old girl. The more I thought about it, the more I cried.

At one point, Sean called and asked if I wanted to go to Baltimore with him the next day, but I squeaked out a quick, “No, thank you,” and gave no other explanation. He sounded annoyed as he said goodbye.

Finally, I dozed a little, but then I was woken by my Realtor, who called to say she’d had an offer on the house and orchard. I took a deep breath and asked how long I had to make a decision. “Customarily a day,” she answered.

“I need three.” She acquiesced but sounded annoyed too. I began to sob again as I closed my cell phone.

An hour later James called. I could barely speak, I was crying so hard. I babbled out what Marta had told me. “I wasn’t adopted until I was two. Why didn’t Mama and Dad ever tell me?” I felt so betrayed. All along I’d imagined myself as a newborn in their arms. Not a toddler. No wonder they had kept my name.

Instead of being the size of Elizabeth Alice, I’d been the size of Melanie and Matty. I’d been with Giselle until then. I must have felt as if Mammi had given me away—or as if Mama and Dad had kidnapped me. I fell into another round of sobs.

“I’m coming out,” James said.

“No. You can’t. You have school.” I took a deep breath. I didn’t want him ruining his education because of me. “I’m all right. Just talk to me. Tell me what you’ve been learning.”

“Well,” he spoke slowly. “I’ve been praying about things a lot, and I know what I need to do.” He laughed a little. “I don’t know what you should do. And I don’t know what we should do. I just know what I need to do.”

I heard the clicking of a keyboard in the background. No doubt he was writing a paper as we talked. That was something James could actually do. “What do you need to do?” I asked.

“Pray every day. And trust God.”

That brought on a fresh round of tears, and then I told him how, when Caroline was so sick, I felt God tuck me in at night, how I felt Him close after so many years of not. But now He felt far away again.

“Know He’s close,” James said. “Right beside you. And He has been all this time.” The clicking stopped. “I’ll pray He tucks you in again tonight.”

I didn’t feel God’s presence that night, nor the next day when the tears kept coming. James must have told Sophie what was going on, though, because I had a text from her asking how I was. I sent a message back, asking why she’d never told me I was two when I was adopted. It wasn’t my place, she texted back.

As I read her words, I wanted to throw the phone across the room. I wanted to scream at her, to say she was hiding behind the same lame excuse Marta had used. Fingers flying, I typed, YOU WERE MY FRIEND. HOW ELSE CAN I TAKE YOUR SILENCE EXCEPT AS THE ULTIMATE BETRAYAL?

After a long pause, her next text finally came: I’m sorry. I talked to your father about it once, thinking you should know. He didn’t see that it would do you any good.

Unwilling to accept her apology, I simply put down my phone and did not reply.

After a while my phone rang. It was Mrs. Glick. I let it go into voice mail and listened as soon as she was finished leaving the message. “Lexie, dear, we’re all so worried about you. Please come home,” her frail voice said.

All of them knew I was two when I was adopted. And Mama and Dad had lied all those years about my grandmother and mother loving me. If they had loved me, they would have kept me. Now, instead of a gentle handoff of an oblivious infant at the Philadelphia airport, I imagined Mammi shoving me into my parents’ arms, me a screaming two-year-old, and then rushing away. And Klara dusting her hands as she turned her back. And Giselle…I stopped. I didn’t even know what to imagine when it came to Giselle.

My phone beeped again. It was Sean. Everyone was weighing in today on my life except for James.

Sean’s text read: On the train to Baltimore. The little girl in front of me is Asian. Probably Chinese, with a white family. Adopted, obviously. Made me think of you. She’ll probably never have the option of finding out her story. What if that were your case? Could you be happy? If so, then why not just let it go now, instead of driving yourself crazy?

I dropped my phone onto my pillow. He didn’t get it. I’d found people who knew my story. Even if the truth ended up being uglier than I had expected, they had no right to withhold it from me. For that matter, I wished that little girl on the train could have her story too. It wasn’t likely she’d ever get it, but she deserved it nonetheless. Just as I deserved mine.

Oh, why had I told James not to come? Suddenly, more than anything in the whole world, I just wanted him to be here with me, wrapped safely in his loving arms. The fact that he hadn’t even bothered to call since we talked last night upset me more than I could have possibly imagined. I felt adrift, abandoned, floating alone in an icy sea.

I heard steps on the stairs and then Zed’s voice. “Lexie?”

My young cousin had been a huge help to me, but at the moment the sound of his voice made me cringe. I didn’t want an update on Burke Bauer or his wife Lavonne or the odd American woman living in Switzerland. Not now.

“There’s someone outside,” he said, his voice tentative. “He wants to see you.”

Oh, great. A patient’s husband, no doubt. Just what I needed. “Tell him to call your mom. Explain that she’s taken over the practice again.”

“It’s not anyone from around here,” he said, appearing at the end of my bed.

I swept my fingers under both eyes and reached for a tissue. “What does he want?”

Zed shrugged, eyeing me strangely.

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before. But he knew who I was. In fact, he seemed familiar with our whole family.”

I sat up, the skin on my arms prickling. “What do you mean?”

“He said he was here to see you, but he also asked for Mom, and he said he wants to round up everyone over at Mammi’s so we can get down to the heart of the matter, whatever that means. Do you want me to call Mom?”

I was off the bed instantly, tossing Zed my phone and then taking the stairs two at a time.

“James!” I called out as I rushed through the front door.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, smiling tentatively. Until I knocked him down.

Flat on his back, trying to raise his head with me on top of him, he gasped, “And I thought you might be mad.” He laughed and then pointed toward the front door of the cottage

I turned to look. Zed stood on the small porch, my open phone in front of his face.

“You’d better get off me,” James whispered, his green eyes dancing. “I think we’re being filmed.”

Zed used my phone to call his mom, and then rode with us to Mammi’s. I drove while James chatted away, asking Zed about himself. After a few minutes James turned his head toward the backseat and then glanced at me. “Boy,” he said. “You two look related.”

Zed and I both smiled.

“What?” James asked.

“I’m adopted too,” Zed explained.

“Oh, well. Guess there’s lots of blond hair and brown eyes in the family either way.”

I asked James what his plan was, admitting how shocked I was at his arrival. It wasn’t like me to agree to drive off somewhere without knowing exactly why.

“I have no idea if it will work or not, but it’s worth a try,” he said.

“What? What’s worth a try?” I turned off the main highway.

“Just a little session.”

“Like group therapy? Or family therapy, rather?” Inwardly, I groaned, thinking how very James-like of him to approach the situation this way.

“More like an intervention.”

This time my groan was audible. He grew silent, and when I glanced at him, I could see that he was both surprised and hurt by my reaction.

“Look,” he said, holding up both hands, “I know you find much of what you consider my ‘psychobabble’ tiresome, Lexie, but this is different. This is for your sake. To find your story and settle all of this once and for all. That is what you really want, isn’t it?”

I turned down the lane, startled by the sternness in his voice and suddenly humbled by the truth of his words. He was right. Someone had to take charge and get everyone together and finally talking. More importantly, he knew that such a difficult and significant encounter would be unwise without an outside party present, one who had been trained in psychology.

To my mind, that person would also need to be someone who was intuitive and kind and safe. Someone truly special. I glanced again at James, knowing he was all of the above. Silently, for the first time ever, I thanked God that this man was exactly the way he was—psychobabble and all.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” I said simply, hoping that later I could more fully convey my gratitude.

The cows in the field ambled toward the white fence. Alexander stepped out of the barn and took off his hat. Marta had already arrived, and she and Ella were just climbing from their car as I pulled to a stop beside them. As we climbed out, Ella took a good look at James and then flashed me a broad smile.

Heart pounding, I ignored her, watching as James moved around the car to introduce himself to Marta. After exchanging names and handshakes, he motioned her aside, and much to my surprise she went willingly. Standing about ten feet away, the two of them spoke quietly together, their voices nearly inaudible. Seizing the opportunity, Ella moved in on me.

“Is that really James?” she whispered excitedly. “You didn’t say he was so hot. He’s even hotter than Sean! Are all the guys in Oregon that cute?”

I rolled my eyes, wishing she would be quiet so I could listen.

“Girls,” Zed moaned under his breath, shaking his head at both of us.

Marta and James seemed to conclude their brief but private conversation, and then she turned toward me.

“Lexie, take James to meet Mammi. I’ll send Ada out and then try to talk to Klara. Ella and Zed, you go with Lexie and James.”

Without waiting for a reply, Marta turned and moved briskly toward the house. After I introduced James to Ella, the four of us headed up the walk in the same direction, though we weren’t moving nearly as fast. Alexander met up with us before we reached the turnoff to the daadi haus.

“Lexie,” he said, and then he nodded to Zed and Ella.

I introduced James to Alexander, who said hello and then looked away, kicking at the ground with his rounded-toe work boot. Each time I saw him, his shyness caught me by surprise.

“Marta went in the house to talk to Klara,” I explained.

Alexander glanced up at me. “I’d best go in there too, then.”

He started toward the back door and we followed, veering off toward the daadi haus at the split in the walkway.

As it turned out, Ada was already there, sitting near Mammi, who was lying back in her recliner chair, eyes closed, resting. Ada stood as we came inside, a smile overtaking her face. Her color looked much better as she stepped toward us, hugging each one and then graciously welcoming James in a hushed voice.

“Ada, who is it?” Mammi asked, opening her eyes and trying to sit up.

“It’s family,” Ada replied, giving me a wink.

We approached Mammi’s chair so that I could introduce James, but before I even spoke, the door swung open and Klara came rushing into the room.

“Out!” she cried. “Everybody out!”

“Klara…” Alexander was right behind her, followed by Marta.

Klara had a dishtowel over her shoulder and a wooden spoon in her hand. Her face was red, and a strand of sandy hair had come loose from her cap.

“Out! Now!” she snarled.

Ada stepped in front of me, protesting, as Mammi struggled to sit up in her chair. I spoke as well, as did the others, our voices all clamoring to be heard.

“Klara!” Mammi’s voice rang out, sharper and louder than all the rest, cutting through the din. Silenced, we all turned toward the older woman, who had managed to get the recliner to the down position and was sitting tall, her cap askew and her white hair poking out from underneath it. “Please stop. This has gone on too long.”

“You need to let things be,” Klara replied, standing with her feet apart, hands gripping both ends of the wooden spoon. Though her eyes were on her mother, I knew she was speaking to everyone in the room.

“We just want the truth,” Ada said gently, stepping forward.

Klara looked around at each of us, terror and betrayal shining clearly in her eyes.

“I won’t be a part of this,” she hissed. “Alexander, Ada. Come.” Klara stepped around Marta and moved toward the open doorway.

I watched, heart in my throat, as Alexander remained exactly where he was, looking down at his boots, his hat in his hands, fingers kneading furiously at the brim. I turned to look at Ada, and satisfaction surged in my chest as I realized she had chosen to remain stubbornly in place as well.

Clearly noting the lack of movement behind her, Klara glanced over her shoulder when she reached the door, her face twisted into a scowl. There, she faltered in surprise that neither husband nor daughter were following orders.

“Klara, I am not Alexandra’s biological father,” Alexander blurted out suddenly.

Klara spun around to face her husband, her cheeks flushing an even brighter red, though whether from anger or embarrassment, I wasn’t sure.

“Same old song,” Klara barked. “I don’t care how many times—”

“It’s different now,” he interrupted. “There’s actual proof. Medical proof.”

Klara jerked her head back, clearly shocked. She took a deep breath and held it, suddenly looking at me for confirmation. Technically, Alexander was overstating things a bit, so I tried to qualify his words by being more precise.

“I had my DNA tested. Until Alexander also is tested, we won’t know if he is my father or not. But what we do know for sure, so far at least, is that Ada and I are siblings. Full siblings. She’s my sister.”

Klara’s face went white, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, but no words came out. Before she could find her voice, Ada spoke.

“I was tested as well. The doctor said the DNA proves it. Without question, Lexie and I are sisters.”

Our words had a strange effect on Klara. She exhaled slowly, her face growing pale, her jaw slack. She looked from her daughter to her husband to her sister, the spoon slipping from her hands and landing with a soft plop on the braided rug. No one moved to pick it up. Finally, she turned again toward Alexander.

He met her shocked gaze with confidence, his shoulders squared. As they stared at each other, it was as if he stood taller than I had ever seen him. The slumping was gone, the averted eyes were no longer trained toward the floor. Even his fingers had stilled along the brim of the hat.

“I have told you this all along, Klara,” he said, his voice even and deep. “You chose not to believe me, but Giselle and I were never involved, never intimate. There was no way Lexie could have been mine.”

Klara tried to reply but nothing came out. Clearing her throat, she tried again, rasping, “But Giselle named the child Alexandra. Why would she have used that name unless the babe was yours?”

Mammi sat forward as if to speak, but Klara cut her off.

“I wasn’t stupid,” Klara continued, her voice growing stronger as she railed at her husband. “I saw how you looked at Giselle, the way she flirted with you. I caught the two of you whispering together more than once. She wouldn’t tell anyone who the baby’s father was, yet she named it after you. What other conclusion could I have drawn? Did you both think I was an idiot?”

Again, Mammi tried to speak, but she had become so worked up that all she could do was sputter and cough instead. As Ada and Ella jumped to her aid, James addressed the whole lot of us.

“Why don’t we all calm down, have a seat, and do this the right way?” he asked in a voice so soothing that everyone seemed compelled to do exactly as he suggested. Even Klara obeyed, watching warily as Zed and Alexander rounded up three straight-back chairs from the rest of the small house and brought them to the living room. Once Mammi had recovered from her coughing fit, we all sat, with Klara, Marta, and Alexander taking the chairs, James and I on the couch with Ada next to me, and Ella and Zed seated on the floor. After we were settled, we looked to James to learn what would come next, and again I was deeply grateful for his presence.

“I think before we go any further, we should just pause for a moment and take all of this to the Lord in prayer,” he said, his voice still soothing and warm. We bowed our heads, and though I expected him to pray aloud, instead he remained silent beside me as was the Amish custom. Though my brain was too frazzled to pray myself, by the time he said a gentle “amen” a minute or so later, the quiet and focus had served to calm me significantly. It seemed to have done the same for everyone.

“Okay,” James said. “As a first step, let me just say that I think it’s time for Lexie and Ada to learn the truth. The whole truth. That’s why I wanted all of us to assemble here.”

“But they don’t—” Klara began.

“They already have pieces of the truth,” he continued, cutting her off, “which has been making things difficult for everyone. Trust me when I say that bringing all of this out into the open will be a relief, both to the people trying to put their stories together and to those who have been keeping secrets.”

Silenced, Klara pressed her lips together. Everyone else was quiet.

“So, Lexie,” James said, turning toward me. “Why don’t you tell us exactly what it is you want to know?”

I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then spoke.

“Who my birth parents really are. And Ada’s. Why I was given up—and Ada wasn’t. What Burke Bauer has to do with all of this. If Alexander is my father and, if not, why I was named after him. Why I was born in Montgomery County instead of here. Why my parents told me that my birth family loved me when obviously they—” I looked up at the faces surrounding me and corrected myself. “When obviously you didn’t.” I stopped abruptly and then added, “I guess that’s everything.”

“But we did love you,” Marta whispered. “I did.”

I met her eyes, ready to contradict her, but something in her expression made me realize that she was telling the truth.

“More importantly, Giselle loved you,” she continued, standing. “She loved you more than she ever loved anyone.”

“So why did she give me away? Why did you let her?”

Marta faltered, looking toward Klara. I looked at Klara as well, but she was staring intently at the floor now, arms crossed stubbornly over her chest. As my question hung in the air, unanswered, Marta slowly sat back down.

“Let me guess: It’s not your place.” I couldn’t help it, my voice dripped with sarcasm.

“All right. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” James told us. “Ada, now it’s your turn. What would you like to know?”

Ada grabbed my hand, and I could feel her tremble. Giving her a brave smile, I nodded, urging her with my eyes to go ahead and say what she was thinking.

“I do not…I have fewer questions than Lexie, of course. I just want to know who my birth mother and father were. Are.” Looking at me, she added, “And I want to know why I was denied my sister. For my whole life. Who had the right to take her away from me, and why?”

She squeezed my hand, not letting go.

“Very good,” James said, giving Ada an encouraging smile before again addressing the group. “Well, then why don’t we start with the most basic question? Who was Ada and Lexie’s biological mother?”

Mammi and Marta both whispered her name at the same moment: “Giselle.”

Ada gasped and gripped my hand more tightly, her head turning toward Klara, the woman she had always considered her only mamm.

Klara wouldn’t meet her daughter’s eyes, but she spoke in a near mumble.

“I couldn’t have any children of my own. When Giselle got pregnant the second time, I agreed to take the child, on one condition.”

“And what was that condition?” James asked gently, but Klara merely shook her head and would not answer. After a beat, he spoke again. “Okay, we’ll come back to that. At least we know that Giselle was the mother. So, moving along for now, who was Ada and Lexie’s biological father?”

Ada and I both looked at Alexander hopefully, but he looked back at Ada and shook his head, pausing to brush a tear from his cheek with thick, rough-skinned fingers.

“In my heart, I always was and always will be your father, Ada,” he said, the pain of this moment clearly written on his face.

“You’re exactly right,” James said, “but right now, we’re asking about the biological father,” James reminded him. “Are you their biological father?”

Sadly, Alexander shook his head no.

“Who, then?” I demanded, looking to James, wondering if we would have to do something more drastic to get to the truth.

“Burke Bauer,” Mammi said simply. “I already told you, Alexandra. Your father was Burke Bauer. What I didn’t say was that Burke was Ada’s father too.”

I let go of my sister’s hand so I could massage my temples. I had a terrible headache, but I needed to stay focused.

“Why don’t you give us some details?” James suggested, making eye contact with Mammi.

In response, my grandmother launched into the same story she had laid out for me before, explaining how the beautiful Giselle had obtained a job at the nursery and fallen into a very secret, very discreet affair with her wealthy, older, and married boss. When she got to the part about Bauer’s hold over Giselle, about how the girl couldn’t seem to stay away from him because “he was like a drug to her,” James interrupted, asking if Bauer had been a harsh person, if he’d had a cruel streak.

“Not that I know of,” Mammi replied.

“Quite the opposite,” Marta added. “For all his faults, Burke Bauer was a very gentle man. Almost to a fault, actually.”

I stared at Marta, wondering how she would know that. She had only been a young girl at the time, just eleven years old or so when Giselle and Burke and had first become involved. Why would Marta have had any sort of interaction with Bauer at all?

“I see,” James said, interrupting my thoughts. “Then their relationship is fairly understandable, though of course still inexcusable. We know that Giselle was terribly mistreated by her own father when she was young. It’s not much of a stretch to see why she would be drawn to an older man later in life, especially one who seemed kind and gentle. My guess is that Bauer’s love soothed the wounds inside of Giselle, wounds that had been inflicted years before by her own father.”

Mammi seemed to process that, as did we all. I knew there was never, ever an excuse for infidelity, but at least James’s logic helped us better understand what kept driving Giselle back to Burke Bauer’s arms—even though she knew it was wrong, even though he already had a wife and child.

“Please continue with what you were saying,” James prodded, and I recognized the reassuring half smile that he was giving to Mammi. “If Giselle and Burke were so discreet, how did you find out about their affair?”

Mammi’s eyes filled with tears.

“It was all my fault,” she said. “If I hadn’t sent Klara over to get her that night, if Alexander hadn’t gone with her and then gone inside…”

She began to sob quietly, and when it was clear she couldn’t continue, James tried another approach.

“Alexander? If you know what she’s talking about, why don’t you take it from there.”

Nodding, Alexander cleared his throat and then spoke.

“Klara and I were courting,” he said softly, “and I was over to see her one evening. Of course, Giselle and Marta were still living here as well.”

He glanced at Marta, who gave him an encouraging, sisterly nod. He continued.

“Mammi got word that Giselle would have to work late at the office but not to wait up, that she would be home after she was finished. I think Giselle was eighteen then, on rumschpringe, so Klara and I were not concerned when she hadn’t shown up by the time I left. We both assumed that Giselle had left work and gone directly out with friends, perhaps to a party or two. It was a Friday night, you see, and Giselle often disappeared on the weekends.” Alexander looked over at James and me, pausing to explain. “Some kids tend to… uh… exploit their time of rumschpringe more than others. You might say that Giselle was one of those.”

Klara glanced sharply at Alexander and then returned her gaze to the floor.

“In any event,” he went on, “I had gone over to the Gundy place where I was boarding because I worked for Benjamin. Mammi was a worrier, so when it grew very late and still Giselle had not come home, she woke Klara and asked her to take the buggy over to the nursery to see if she could find out what had happened. She came and got me to go with her. We thought Mammi was concerned over nothing, but she was so agitated by that point that Klara was willing to do as she asked and I was willing to help her.”

At that Mammi’s sobs grew louder still.

“When we reached the nursery, things seemed quiet and empty. But there was a light on in the main building and a single car in the parking lot, so I thought we should take a look inside. I left Klara with the horse, saying I would be right back.”

It wasn’t until that moment that I realized what was coming next. Sure enough, Alexander went on to tell us that when he got up to the office, he discovered that the only ones there were Giselle and her boss, but that they had definitely not been working.

“They had… uh… fallen asleep in each others’ arms,” Alexander said, not needing to elaborate. “I tiptoed away and got myself out of there, rejoined Klara in the buggy, and drove away. Apparently, Giselle was completely unaware that I had been there at all.”

“Did you tell Mammi what you’d seen?” I whispered.

He shook his head.

“No. I simply said that Giselle was still at the office, and that if I were Mammi I would not wait up. Then Klara and I tended to the horse, put away the buggy, and said goodnight. My long walk back to the Gundy place gave me plenty of time for thought and prayer.”

Klara interrupted suddenly, her voice sharp as glass.

“My husband is leaving out an important detail. He chose not to tell me what he had seen either. That was his first big mistake.”

“Klara—”

“If you had been honest with me from the start, Alexander, perhaps none of the rest of it would have happened.”

He shrugged, looking to James.

“Regardless of what my wife is saying,” he explained, two bright blotches of pink appearing on his cheeks as he spoke, “please understand that this is the Amish way. We do not speak openly of private matters, of sexual intimacy. Between a man and his wife as God intended, yes, there is total freedom of words there. But not to others, and not of others. It was not my place to speak of the intimacies of my future sister-in-law. Giselle was an adult. What she did in her more private moments back then was between her and God. The most I could do was pray for her. Which I did after that, regularly and with deep concern. She was going to be my new sister, and though she was a very troubled girl, I loved her.” At Klara’s scowl, he added defiantly, “I loved her very much. As a sister.”

Turning away, Klara recrossed her arms over her chest, set her jaw tightly, and slunk further into her seat.

“If you didn’t tell Mammi about the affair, how did she find out?” I asked, wanting to get back on track.

“Eventually, once Klara and I were married and I was living here as well, Giselle began…showing signs,” Alexander replied. “That is when I knew I had no choice.”

“You mean signs that she was pregnant? Morning sickness? Baggy clothes? Things like that?”

“Yes,” Alexander replied. “Once I realized what was going on, I decided my best course of action was to speak to Giselle directly. So I did, telling her that I knew about her and Bauer, and that I suspected that she was with child. Much to my surprise, she responded by denying everything, claiming instead that I had designs on her, that I was—how did she put it?—playing out my own fantasies by conjuring up lies regarding her with other men.” Again, this sweet fellow’s cheeks colored brightly.

“The best defense is a good offense,” James offered, and after a moment Alexander’s eyes widened and then he began nodding vigorously, as if James had just handed him the missing piece to a lifelong puzzle.

“That is it exactly. By making such claims about me, Giselle may have been able to avoid the real issue for a while, but, unfortunately, by so doing she also planted doubts in the mind of my wife.”

“And that was his second mistake,” Klara added with a huff. “Not telling me then, either.”

Much to my surprise, Alexander nodded.

“You are right, Klara. At that point I should have told you everything. I was wrong, but my motives were pure. Truly, I wanted to protect you.”

“Protect me? From what?” she sneered.

“From the uglier things of this world. From the nature of Giselle’s sin. From the knowledge that even as God seemed to have chosen not to bless you and me with a child, in His unique wisdom He had not withheld that same blessing from your unmarried sister.”

Klara’s mouth worked silently for a moment, again making her look like a fish. The cold truth of her husband’s words seemed to shut her up, at least temporarily, and I was glad.

“After talking with the bishop about the situation at length,” Alexander continued, speaking now mostly to Ada and me, “I followed his advice and spoke to Mammi about it. She already had her own suspicions about a pregnancy, and once she learned that Giselle had a lover, those suspicions were confirmed. I told Mammi everything I knew and had no more involvement after that.” Glancing at Klara, he added, “Except, of course, to defend myself against Giselle’s insinuations. And Klara’s response to them. Over and over for the rest of my life.”

After an awkward silence, James turned to Mammi, whose sobs had quieted at last.

“Can you tell us what happened next? Did you confront your daughter? What made her decide to give the baby up for adoption?”

Mammi looked back at him helplessly and shook her head, though whether she was unwilling or unable to speak I wasn’t sure. After that, to my surprise Marta cleared her throat and picked up the story.

“I wasn’t quite twelve when all of that was going on, but I can tell you how things went from my perspective.”

We nodded at her.

“I remember a lot of drama, a lot of fighting. Giselle yelling at Mammi and slamming doors. Klara screaming at Alexander and sometimes even making him sleep in the barn. Once, I overheard a whispered conversation between Alexander and Giselle myself. Even though I knew it was none of my business, I listened anyway. I don’t remember the specifics, but I do recall that I never heard anything to justify Klara’s suspicions about the two of them. Mostly, I remember feeling bad for Alexander, because he was sweet and Giselle wasn’t herself at all, she was so mean to him. She had a sharp side to her, one that came out when she felt cornered. She hated hearing when she’d done something wrong, even if she knew it was true. Like James said, Giselle’s best defense had always been to go on the offense. And so she did. With a vengeance.”

“You can say that again,” Alexander mumbled.

“Anyway, around here things only got worse, not better. Personally, what I hated most was all of the gossip. It just about drove me nuts. Everyone wanted to know who the father was, but even though there were plenty of rumors, Giselle would never confirm or deny any of them, not even to her own sisters. At some point the church leaders got involved. They started coming here and trying to talk some sense into her. Like Mammi, they wanted Giselle to confess and repent, to put an end to her reckless rumschpringe, and to join the church. They suggested she get married—to someone Amish, of course—and let him raise the child as his own, regardless of the actual paternity. To that end I know she had several prospects, but she wasn’t interested. Instead, she dug in her heels, told everyone to leave her alone, and turned her back on God and the church.”

Marta sounded bitter, but as she spoke I felt pity surging within me for the poor, pregnant Giselle. She had made some very bad decisions, yes, but I just kept remembering that at the time she had only been all of nineteen. Who at nineteen hadn’t done some stupid things? All of that scrutiny must have served to only magnify the problems.

“Of course, the bigger Giselle’s stomach grew,” Marta continued, “the more insanely jealous Klara became.” Looking at her sister, Marta added, “I was never quite sure if Klara was really angry because she suspected Alex was the father or simply because her sister had gotten pregnant even though she herself hadn’t.”

I glanced at Klara, surprised to see that her cheeks were wet with tears. So the woman had a soul after all. James seemed to notice the tears as well, because he held out a hand to Marta and addressed Klara instead.

“I have a question for you. Would you say that your father was a good man?”

Klara sat up, looking uncomfortable, but at least she answered.

“No. Not by anyone’s definition.”

“Have you known many good men in your life?”

She squinted at James, silently asking what he was getting at.

“Just go with me for a minute. Have you known many good men? And by good, I mean men who are kind, dependable, trustworthy…”

Klara shrugged.

“There are some in the church like that, I suppose. The bishop. A few of the deacons.”

“How about at home? Are there any good men in your home?”

Klara stared at James for a long moment before understanding slowly began to creep across her face.

“Why, Alexander, of course,” she whispered. “He is good, through and through. He is very, very good. To me. To everyone. He is the most gut man of all!” At that, much to my amazement, Klara burst into tears.

To his credit, her husband didn’t even hesitate in his response. Instead, he simply slipped from his chair to his knees and took Klara in his arms, holding her tightly and patting her back as she wept.

“I think sometimes when we grow up with a parent who is deeply flawed,” James explained to us as Alexander and Klara remained locked in their tearful embrace, “we learn, subconsciously at least, to expect the worst from everyone else as well. Given the kind of man her father was, no doubt at some level Klara believed that all men were bad. Even with Alexander, whom she loved, she would have had trouble accepting that his goodness was genuine, or at least that it would last. When Giselle started spewing her lies, Klara’s natural suspicions were confirmed, and she was more than ready to believe them. It’s sad, and it’s wrong, but it’s certainly understandable.” After a moment, he added, “Fortunately, it doesn’t have to be that way forever. We can all learn to see with new eyes if we try.”

I was dumbfounded at what had just happened, and I looked at James with respect. Though this certainly wasn’t the most pressing issue of the day, he had spotted an opportunity for healing and had gone with it.

Seeing with new eyes, indeed.

“So who can tell us why Lexie was born in Norristown rather than here?” James asked, taking the conversation back to the next logical question.

No one spoke, so after a moment, Ella shyly raised her hand.

“Yes, Ella?” James said.

“I wasn’t there, obviously, but I bet I can guess. Lexie probably can too.”

At the moment I wasn’t interested in hearing theories, but James regarded her with interest.

“With all of these people ragging on her all the time, Giselle probably just had enough one day and took off out of here.” Glancing at her mother, she added, “Sometimes we all need space, to catch our breath and maybe calm down and get some perspective.”

“You are partly correct,” Mammi interjected, and I was relieved to hear her finally rejoin the discussion. “She did take off after a particularly bad argument with Klara, but Giselle did not just need some air. She was leaving for good. Like many of the youngie on rumschpringe, Giselle had purchased a car. Once she drove off in it, I thought she was long gone and I might never see her again.”

“What happened to her?” I whispered, leaning forward to take in every word.

“We learned later that she headed east, but she only made it as far as Exton before she felt a contraction. Determined to press onward, she drove for another half hour before she finally had to admit to herself that she was in labor and needed to get to a hospital, so she drove herself to the nearest emergency room which happened to be in Norristown. She was determined to get through the entire labor and delivery all by herself, but as the night wore on, her resolve weakened. Finally, she called a neighbor here and asked if they could get word to us about where she was and what was happening. The moment they told me I hired a driver and had him take me straight to Norristown Hospital to be with her. I made it just in time to see you come into the world.”

I expected Mammi to burst into tears at the very thought, but instead a broad smile broke out on her face.

“You were so perfect, Alexandra. So beautiful. At that moment, I knew it didn’t matter who your father was or what Giselle had done in the past. You were here, and that was enough.”

As I wondered what happened to derail that thought, Mammi continued, glancing at Klara before she added that there was just one problem.

“Giselle was very hurt by Klara, not just from the angry words they had exchanged but also from the fact that Klara had declined to come with me to the hospital. So she did something out of spite—something I know she eventually lived to regret.”

Even before Mammi said it I knew. As a final stick of the knife both to Klara and her husband, my mother had decided to name me Alexandra.

My sympathies dimmed for the helpless Giselle as I thought how absolutely cruel and wrong that had been. No matter how hurt or angry she was, what had given her the right to do something as awful as that?

“Of course,” Mammi continued, “once she and I brought little Alexandra back home, things went from bad to worse. Klara and Giselle could hardly bear the sight of each other. Poor Alexander was angry and embarrassed, especially when church members began speculating about the reason for the child’s name. Thank goodness Alexander had involved the bishop from the very beginning, telling him everything, or the church might have eventually taken action to have him excommunicated and shunned.”

I looked over at Alexander, who was back in his chair now but holding on to Klara’s hand. I felt terribly sorry, even complicit somehow, and I wished there was some way I could apologize on behalf of my mother.

“What kind of mom was she?” I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“In spite of everything, Giselle loved you very much,” Mammi replied, “but she had no idea how to take care of an infant, and she did not seem interested in learning. She left the hard parts to Marta and me and spent most of her time either resting or quietly playing with you.”

“Sounds like she may have been suffering from postpartum depression,” James interjected. I had a feeling he was right.

James and I both looked back at Mammi.

“Whatever was causing it,” she continued, “at that time all I could do was wring my hands and pray for patience and try to prod her into action.”

I nodded, trying to picture it, knowing that must have been a difficult time for everyone. No wonder they had eventually given me away. Sick, my own mother thought I was too much trouble to bother with.

“Given that Giselle is Ada’s mother too,” James said to Mammi, “I assume that at some point she and Burke Bauer rekindled their affair?”

“Worse than that,” Mammi replied. “They ran off together.”

Ada and I looked at each other in surprise.

“At first Giselle tried to stay away from him. She focused on the baby and helped around the house—when she was not resting. Mostly, she withdrew into herself. But one day, when Alexandra was about six months old, Giselle got the notion to go into town. We had sold her car, so she strapped up a horse to the buggy, took Alexandra, and left. I do not know what her intention was at that point. She said she only wanted to do some shopping, maybe visit with some friends. But I think perhaps she was lying, that what she really intended was to go straight to Burke Bauer and show him his daughter.”

“She did not come back?” Ada asked breathlessly.

Mammi shook her head, blinking away fresh tears.

“That night several young men from the nursery brought back the horse and buggy, along with a letter from Giselle. It said something about how she and the baby were fine but that they were not coming home. I was not to worry because, as she had written, ‘We are a family now.’ Can you imagine that? This man with a trusting wife and a young son and a successful business threw it all away to go off and play house with his mistress and their love child.”

“Believe it or not,” Marta added softly, “one of those young men who came here was Burke Bauer’s own son. He had no idea what was in the letter, of course, nor that his father had taken off with Giselle. He was just doing as Daddy had requested, delivering a horse and buggy to a local Amish family.”

For some reason, the pain of that thought shone clearly in Marta’s eyes. I agreed that what Bauer had done was awful, using his son as a pawn in his scheme, but I didn’t understand the depth of her emotion.

“How long were they gone?” Ada asked, impatient now to hear about the circumstances of her own birth.

“More than a year, maybe thirteen, fourteen months. By the time they came back, Alexandra had really grown. She was a toddler. And Giselle was a different person. More mature. Almost repentant. Dedicated to caring for Alexandra. She never spoke much of the time she had been away, but the relationship must have run its course because eventually I realized that it was truly over. I also realized that, once again, she had managed to get herself pregnant.”

“Bauer’s son was just a year younger than I was, and he and I had become friends by then,” Marta interjected, “so I was able to find out more of the inside scoop from his point of view. Giselle didn’t want us to know any of it, but Mammi and I were both glad to hear that Bauer was trying to put his real family back together again. We were especially relieved when his wife finally forgave him. As for the son, he tried to give his dad a chance too, but he was quite emotionally fragile, and the wound of his father’s betrayal ran deep. We never talked about my sister’s new pregnancy. That would have just made things a thousand times worse.”

I sat back, realizing that was a period of my life that I would never really know about. Given that I had been in the care of both mother and father, at least for a short time, I supposed I had been kept safe and warm. On the other hand, the sudden appearance and disappearance of my birth father from my life could only have served as the first chink in my many abandonment issues.

“So Giselle came back pregnant with me,” Ada said, clearly impatient for Mammi to get on with the rest of the story.

“Yes. She was also depressed and overwhelmed and very afraid of being a single mother of two children. She and her sister eventually found a sort of peace, and by the time Giselle was in her ninth month Klara offered to take the baby and raise it as her own. If she and Alexander could not conceive a child, which was becoming more and more apparent, well, then at least it seemed God was providing another way. When the baby was born, we all knew it was the right choice.”

“Lexie, I already told you that you were with me when Ada was born,” Marta said. “I was the one who snipped the lock of your mother’s hair and then your sister’s. I tried to cut a lock of yours too, but you wouldn’t let me.” She smiled. “I tied the strands with black ribbon and gave them both to Mammi. Then Klara came and took the baby.”

We all turned and looked at Klara then. She was tightly gripping her husband’s hand, her face flushed and eyes still fixed firmly on the floor.

“What was the condition?” I asked suddenly, my voice sounding pinched and foreign to me. When no one replied, I added, “The condition, Klara. You said earlier that when Giselle got pregnant the second time, you agreed to take the child, on one condition.”

Finally, Klara met my eyes with her own.

“I was still afraid that Alexander had fathered you,” she said, the desperation clear in her voice.

“Of course you were,” I retorted sharply. “But, given the timing, there was no way he could be the father of this new one. So you decided to take it and raise it as your own. What was your condition? Go ahead. We all want to hear it.”

After a long moment of silence, Klara whispered, “That Giselle go away forever and take you with her.”

My mind reeled.

“I begged Klara not to hold her to it,” Mammi cried. “I told her that even if Alexander was the father—which I knew he was not—she must forgive and forget. I reminded her that we believe in delayed justice, in demut. I said if her suspicions were true then God would judge Giselle and Alexander someday. God would. Not us.”

I felt myself slipping into that cold, icy place, until James reached for me, bringing me back. I thought of Ada beside me, aware that she was holding on to me too. I squeezed her hand.

Mammi again took up the story from there.

“Klara would not listen to me. The most she was willing to offer was a bit more time. She said Giselle could stay until she had her strength back, perhaps until she had lined up a job somewhere else, an alternate plan. But then she would have to take Alexandra and go.”

“Only that took longer, way longer, than it should have,” Marta added. “After a few months, Klara thought Giselle was just faking, but Mammi and I knew that she really was unwell. She spent much of her days in bed, rising only to care for you and play with you and read to you, but she didn’t interact with anyone else. She grew thin, too thin. We all knew she wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. She could barely take care of herself, much less a toddler.”

“As time went on,” Mammi said, “I knew I had to do something drastic. For years I had been talking about selling Amielbach, but Giselle had always convinced me not to. She was determined to travel there someday. Out of all three girls, she had always been the most adventurous, and I liked the idea of a child of mine returning to our ancestral home. But it slowly became obvious that Giselle could not even walk down the street, much less travel to another country, so I decided to look for a buyer. I had an idea, one that would give me some leverage. As difficult as it was, I sold Amielbach and then I told Klara that if she would let you and Giselle stay with us, I would use the money to buy this place for her and Alexander. I said they could farm the land, and we could put up a smaller house on the property for Giselle and Alexandra, so they would not always be underfoot. Klara was not thrilled with my offer, but even she could see that Giselle needed help.”

“You had it all worked out,” I muttered, looking from Mammi to Klara. “So why was I given away?”

Mammi let out a sob as Ada placed a comforting hand on my arm.

“I needed time to make up my mind,” Klara said defensively.

“While we were waiting for her verdict,” Mammi sobbed, “the unthinkable happened.”

She seemed too overcome with emotion to continue, so Marta picked up where her mother left off.

“Giselle had grown worse by then,” Marta said. “I mean, she almost never got out of bed anymore, and she stopped speaking, even to you, Lexie. One afternoon I was outside in the garden, harvesting the last of the potatoes. You were supposed to be asleep, napping in the bed with Giselle. I was so busy with the stupid potatoes, I don’t know how I knew to look up at that moment, but I did. Maybe it was God, telling me that something was wrong.”

I leaned forward, listening intently.

“From where I was working,” she continued, “I could see the creek, and something felt off about it, you know? The water was icy cold, but it hadn’t frozen over yet, and at first I just thought that maybe I had seen a fish pop up at the surface or something. Whatever it was, I put down the hoe and went over to take a closer look. On the muddy bank were tiny footprints, and that’s when I knew that while Giselle slept, you had woken up, wandered off, and ended up toddling right down to the creek’s edge. I started screaming, and then I heard you cry. You were under a willow tree, clinging to a low branch. Your bare foot was wedged between two rocks, and the water was swirling up to your chin.”

“I heard her screams from the house,” Mammi moaned. “When I hurried out to the yard, Marta was splashing out of the creek, carrying you in her arms.”

I shuddered, looking at my aunt and realizing that I owed her my very life. I may have saved her from jail, but she had saved me from death.

“As horrible as that was, at least the incident seemed to snap Giselle from her stupor,” Mammi continued. “In truth, it was a real shock for all of us. After that, Giselle knew she had to leave, not just her home but her child. In the condition she was in, she was not a fit mother. That night, she packed a bag, wrote us all a note, and left. In it, she asked Klara to raise you as well.”

Klara bent forward, putting her face in her hands.

“Mamm?” Ada whispered.

“But you wouldn’t do it, would you?” I asked Klara, my voice sounding strangely calm. “Even with Giselle gone for good, you wouldn’t take me.”

Klara didn’t answer, so Mammi spoke for her.

“No, she would not. And she did not want me to, either. In fact she forbade me to. She said she wanted Alexandra as far away from here as humanly possible. You were only two years old, but to Klara you were the enemy.” Mammi’s face turned toward the window. “I thought of an old friend, an Englisch woman who had moved clear across the country, to Oregon. That seemed pretty far.” Mammi’s eyes were back on me now. “I wrote to my friend and asked if there were any Plain communities there, if she might know of some childless couple who was good, who was loving and kind, that God could bless with a beautiful two-year-old girl. She did. Of course, we worked with a lawyer and did it all legally. And that is how you ended up with your parents, Alexandra.”

And that is how you ended up with your parents. Her words ricocheted inside my head, the words I had waited a lifetime to hear.

James placed a warm hand on my arm and spoke.

“I know this is difficult for you, Lex, but can’t you see how God was in all of this? Just like with Joseph, He wrought good from bad.”

And that is how you ended up with your parents. Because God wrought good from bad. Because He was watching over me, had been watching over me all along.

“I remember the day you left,” Marta said suddenly. “Mammi hired a driver to go to Philadelphia, to the airport. You were two, wearing your little Amish dress, apron, and cap and holding the folded quilt Mammi had made for you. I stood on the balcony and watched you go.”

I gasped.

Marta kept talking through tears. “You turned and blew me a kiss, as if you were leaving on a short trip. As if you would soon return.”

I was that little girl again, looking back at the house, the balcony. My mother was gone. I was blowing my teenage aunt a kiss. I had no idea what was ahead of me.

I leaped to my feet, knocking against James.

“Lexie?” He was scrambling to follow me.

I stumbled through the room, nearly tripping over Zed’s outstretched foot, brushing past Alexander. I fumbled for the knob and pushed through the door.

“Lexie!” James was behind me. I started to run, around the back of Klara’s house. There was the creek—the icy waters of my waking nightmares. The back door was ajar and I dashed inside, tearing through the kitchen and into the dining room, around to the open staircase. Up I went, taking the steps two at a time. On the landing, I turned. There was the room with the balcony, the door open. Ada’s room, I presumed. I stepped inside. A quilt, bigger than mine but the same pattern, was spread across the double bed. Dresses and caps hung on pegs along the wall. I stepped to the French doors at the balcony and pushed them open, taking the short step to the iron railing and gripping it tightly through the vines that had wound around it.

Below, a pink dogwood tree bloomed to the side of the house. The cows had crowded around the white fence and one looked up at me. I turned my head toward the stand of trees, catching the scent of pine. Beyond them, the steel blades of a windmill, that wasn’t visible from the road, spun in the breeze.

I thought of how Mama and I used to sit in the shadow of our own windmill, how sometimes Dad would join us. I thought of how they gained my trust. Soothed my sorrow. Accepted me as I was, not knowing what my past had been. There was no way they could have guessed.

Tears stung my eyes.

I had the missing pieces. I had the truth. I had my story.

“Lexie?” James stood in the doorway. Behind him were Ella and then Marta. In a moment they were crowded around me, hugging me. Holding me.