Nancy and I slogged up the back stairs, with Isaac close behind. “I best be on my way,” he said when we reached the door. “Good night, Nancy. Maria.” He turned and faded into the flurry of snow.
Bart sat at the kitchen table, scarfing down a meat loaf sandwich and drinking coffee. Anna stood close by, offering him ketchup and pickles. She seemed delighted to have a visitor, even if he was, in fact, a vagrant.
“Dat said Bart could sleep on the couch for the night,” she told Nancy. She extracted a jar of applesauce from the refrigerator and scooped some into a dish. “Is one sandwich enough?” she asked Bart, placing the dish in front of him.
“I’ll take another, if it’s not too much trouble.” Bart spooned into the bowl of applesauce. He seemed comfortable sitting at this table, even though he’d been caught as an intruder. I wondered why his parents had thrown him out—if he was even telling the truth about that.
As Anna sliced homemade wheat bread and Nancy the meat loaf, they chatted in what must be Pennsylvania Dutch, then switched to English when they saw me staring at them with curiosity. “Mamm put blankets and PJs on the couch for Bart, for after he showers,” Nancy said.
Anna assembled another sandwich and placed it in front of Bart, who didn’t say thank you. But she seemed pleased with her hospitality and lacked resentment, as far as I could see. The Amish were a conundrum to me.
Thirty minutes later, while Bart showered and Anna went to her room to wrap Christmas presents, Naomi and Silas said good night and climbed the stairs. Nancy and I settled into chairs at the table, slices of pumpkin pie before us.
“Why would your father allow Bart to stay here?” I asked her before taking my first bite.
“We’ve known Bart for years, before his family moved to another church district north of us. That lad has always been in trouble for something and kept returning and asking to sleep in our barn. His family is a mess, so I can’t blame him. His father beat him until Bart grew taller than his dat and finally punched him back. It was a game changer. His dat never hit him again.”
“I take it they’re Amish.”
“Yah, Amish.” She chuckled. “Bart’s sixteen and in his Rumspringa. We Amish are not perfect, but we are taught to obey our parents. Everyone is a sinner. Right?”
“I guess so.” I thought about how picture-perfect my family had looked from the outside, while a cesspool of secrets lurked in its core. An itchy feeling invaded me. Was I a sinner, too? Of course, I was.
To change the subject, I asked, “How do you live without electricity?”
“It’s not so bad. If you’ve never had it, you don’t miss it. Our refrigerator is run by propane gas. Since Anna and I are not yet baptized, we sometimes . . . well, never mind. What you don’t know won’t hurt you.”
“I found out the hard way that isn’t true.”
Her expression sobered. “I’m so sorry for your terrible predicament. And to think you tracked me down from one silly little blood test. How can that be?”
I flashed back to my calling Bennett’s Wholesale Furniture, which Nancy had listed as her contact information. I’d spoken to a guy named Troy for a few minutes, and he’d reluctantly given me the Millers’ address. His baritone voice had intrigued me. I wondered where the furniture store was in relation to the quilt shop, and if I’d have a chance to meet Troy before I left.
“Your name popped up as a relative,” I told Nancy. “We’re related by blood, some way or another.”
She sucked in her lips. “I never should have taken that test, but having me for a cousin wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”
“No, I like you.”
My proclamation brought a grin to her face. “But, Nancy, I don’t know what to believe. I took three separate DNA tests, but still, there’s a possibility they were wrong. The lab could have made a mistake. I’m not a scientist.”
“I feel terrible for taking that DNA test, the cause of all your sorrow.”
“Please don’t hold yourself responsible for my parents’ lies.” Once again, I felt like a kid discovering Santa Claus wasn’t real. I’d had plenty of disappointments in life but never experienced anything comparable, even with my ex-boyfriend. Kevin had said he wanted to marry me—until he found a long-legged blonde at work who apparently had more to offer. I’d felt like a discarded washrag. Not good enough to be loved. I hadn’t dated since.
Nancy stood and took our empty plates to the sink. “I have an idea,” she said. “We could set the table for tomorrow morning. A surprise for Mamm.”
Nancy proceeded to set the table using green paper napkins she said she’d found on sale at Walmart. “I suppose I should wrap my presents tonight, too. Ach, I’m sorry I have nothing to give you, Maria.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not celebrating Christmas this year. Or maybe ever again.” There was only one gift I wanted. I clamped my lips together before I could spout out my disappointments and heartache. I realized I was acting like a juvenile, but the child deep inside of me wanted to cry.
I needed to change the subject. “Is your mother’s sister really so awful?”
“No, although she and Dat have never gotten along all that well. Of course, neither of them speaks badly of the other. I love her, even if she is a bit eccentric.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s not like the other women in the district. She goes to church and dresses plain but isn’t afraid to speak her mind. It’s no wonder my dat doesn’t approve of her. He’s a minister and commands respect from everyone in the district.”
“He went to divinity
