His question speared into me like an arrow. Did I want to know the truth? I pictured myself returning home and pretending everything was the way it was before. Maybe this was all a terrible mistake.
No, my gut told me it wasn’t. And my father had already admitted to adopting me. My parents’ betrayal was the worst part. Dad never paid much attention to me. He’d often mentioned he wished he had a son. I’d figured that was why he’d gone to my sister Trish’s soccer and softball games and opted out of my piano recitals.
The family consumed the rest of their meal in silence. Upset as I was, I savored the food.
“Is anyone ready for dessert?” Naomi attempted an unconvincing smile.
“Nee, I’ve lost my appetite.” Silas pushed back his chair. “I’ve got more chores to do in the barn.” Wind rattled the windowpanes as he frowned at me. “When Maria has gone, we’ll finish this conversation.”
I squirmed in my seat as swirls of white blew past the window. The storm was turning into a blizzard. I second-guessed my every action since I’d learned the truth.
Once Silas exited the room, I turned to Naomi. “I’m sorry to just show up like this. I left a couple of messages on the quilt shop’s phone, but no one returned my call.”
“Ach, that recorder is old and needs to be replaced. And we don’t have a phone in the house.”
“Well, in any case, I shouldn’t have arrived without warning and ruined your evening.”
“You haven’t. It’s Nancy who Silas is mad at.” She smiled as Nancy winced. “He’ll settle down. When he’s not stressed, he’s gentle and easygoing.”
“Yah, sometimes he has us in stitches,” Anna said.
“Mei Man often goes back to the barn after dinner.” Naomi aimed her gaze at Nancy. “As for you, we still have much to talk about. Why would you take a DNA test? Are you not planning to join the church?”
“Yah, I am. I’m so sorry. But . . .”
“And what else did you experiment with?”
“Well, I drank alcoholic beverages a couple times that made my mouth pucker and burned all the way down my throat.” She paused, as if wondering how much to divulge. I remembered experimenting with smoking and alcohol in high school and college, and still regretted it.
“Ach, this Christmas will not be a celebration when your Dat finds out.” Naomi folded her napkin.
Nancy gazed at her mother with pleading eyes. “Maybe he won’t.”
“You want me to lie to your Dat? I can’t. But I suppose it can wait a few days.” She expelled a lengthy sigh as she stood up. “First we should get Maria situated.”
“Is there a B-and-B close by? Or do you rent out rooms?” I asked.
“Sometimes, but you’ll spend the night here as our guest.” Naomi rested her hand on mine. Her skin was warm and surprisingly soft for a woman who must do plenty of labor.
“I don’t feel right about staying here without paying,” I said. “I have a credit card.”
“Since I refuse payment, what are your choices?” Naomi shrugged. “With this storm increasing, you’ll not be driving anywhere. How would you get into town to find a hotel—if there’s even an empty room?” She stood and turned toward her daughters. “You two clear the table and put away the food. Now follow me, Maria. Leave your plate where it is.”
I tried to think of ways to stall the inevitable but came up empty. A branch scritched against the side of the house as the wind picked up. I pictured my car entombed in snow. I’d be lucky to locate it in the morning.
I was stuck.
I had no one to blame but myself for acting impetuously, venturing out two days before Christmas. If I were back home, my family would be finishing up shopping and wrapping presents. But they weren’t really my family. My dad was not my real father, and my new stepmother never welcomed me into their home. I felt a twinge of guilt for my resentful attitude toward him, but he’d never treated me with unconditional love. I could not get over my parents’ duplicity. Sadness and confusion more than anger had spurred me on this journey.
I followed Naomi through a sizable but sparse living room with a huge stone fireplace. Where was the Christmas tree and usual holiday decor? There weren’t even paintings on the walls—only a calendar and a white candle in a glass hurricane lamp on the windowsill. Well, I was in no mood to celebrate Christmas this year anyway.
As we traveled toward a hall lit by one propane gas light, all I saw out the front windows was white. Poking up here and there were a few snow-covered fence posts.
“Ach, what a storm, and it’s only getting worse.” Naomi pulled a flashlight from her apron pocket, flicked it on, and led me up a staircase and toward the back of the house. I followed in her wake, my stockinged feet padding across the wooden floors. The farther we stepped from the living room and kitchen, the colder it got. I felt goose bumps erupting on my arms.
“No heat back here?” I asked.
“We like the family to stay together in the kitchen or living room.” She paused and turned to me. “Especially now that our three older sons are married and have places of their own in Ohio, and Nancy and Anna are in Rumspringa—their running-around time—meaning they have much more freedom to come and go as they wish.”
Stopping near the end of the hall, she opened a door. She lit a propane lamp by the bed with a Bic lighter after we stepped inside. The air hung damp and heavy. She fluffed the quilt. “We’ll get you nice and warm. Lots of quilts in this home.”
I actually preferred sleeping in a cold room but wondered what it would feel like to wake up and slide out
