Lydia's Hope Read Online Free Page A

“They’ll be able to
     explain it all, so you can accept what happened as God’s will.”
    She felt certain they’d explain, and now that she was calmer, maybe she’d understand.
     Or at least find the right questions to ask. But as for accepting . . . well, she
     wasn’t sure acceptance would be easily found.
    Adam supported her, just like always. But did he really understand that the very foundations
     of her world were shaken?
    There was no time to talk about it now—Mamm and Daad were already at the door. Adam
     pulled it open.
    “Joseph. Anna. It’s gut you’re here, so we can talk.” Adam’s voice had deepened with
     the gravity of the situation, his level brows lowered over his blue eyes, his strong
     face solemn above his short brown beard. He gestured her parents into the kitchen.
    “Ja. We must talk.” Daad’s tone was heavy. As he and Mamm stepped farther into the
     light, a shock ricocheted through Lydia.
    Daad’s square, ruddy face seemed to have drawn tight against his bones. And her mother . . .
     Lydia’s heart thudded against her chest. Mamm looked near as old as Great-aunt Sara,
     her eyes red-rimmed behind her glasses, the fine wrinkles of her skin turned into
     sharp valleys.
    The urge to put her arms around her mother was almost too strong to resist, but somehow
     she managed. If she and Mamm started crying together, she’d never regain her calm,
     and somehow she had to stay focused enough to hear this story to the end.
    “I’m sorry, daughter.” Daad kissed her forehead gently. “Sorry that you had to find
     out this way.”
    Lydia pressed her lips together for an instant, feeling the flicker of anger again.
Are you sorry for telling me lies to begin with, Daad?
    “Let’s sit down.” Adam pulled out one of the chairs around the table. “Will you have
     coffee?”
    “Not now, denke, Adam.” Daad sank heavily into the chair at the head of the table,
     planting his elbows on the surface in the way he had when he was about to tell the
     family something they needed to hear. He’d looked that way when he’d gathered them
     to say that Grossdaadi had died, Lydia realized. In a way, maybe this was a death
     as well.
    But if Daad looked square and solid and unmovable, Mamm seemed to shrink into her
     seat. When Adam moved to take her jacket she shook her head, drawing it around her
     as if she were cold. She did remove her black bonnet, and the overhead lamp picked
     up the gray strands in her brown hair.
    “Bishop Mose said from the start that we were wrong to keep the truth from you,” Daad
     said. “It’s the only time in my life I went against something the bishop said, and
     I feared we’d regret it one day.”
    So the bishop had known, too. Well, he’d have had to, wouldn’t he? Every older person
     in the church district must have known, and they’d kept silent all this time.
    Adam had seen that already, she realized with a separate little shock. That was why
     his gaze was so wary. He was afraid of what they were about to find out. She’d like
     to touch his hand for support, but he’d taken the chair across from her, the width
     of the table between them.
    Lydia cleared her throat. She had to be strong, remember? “So I had two little sisters,
     and you never told me.” If that sounded accusing, she couldn’t seem to help it.
    Daad nodded gravely. “Ja, but that’s not where the story starts. If you are to understand,
     you must know first that your mother, Diane, was Englisch.”
    “Englisch!” The exclamation came from Adam. Lydia didn’t think she could have spoken
     at all.
    “Ja. Diane Wentworth, that was her name before they were married.” Daad paused, shaking
     his head. “It’s been so long since I heard it, I’d nearly forgotten the name.”
    “But I don’t understand. My birth father was your own brother. Amish. How did he come
     to marry an Englischer? Was her family from around here?” Her mind scrambled for a
     connection with