Mamma gave her a reassuring smile. “Susie mentioned in a letter that you hadn’t been yourself lately. And I know there’ve been times in the past when you’ve sought out different folk, tryin’ to find out what they might know.” She paused, a thoughtful expression on her dear face. “But what if we talk some right now . . . how’d that be?”

Hope rose in Britta. “Oh, Mamma, I’d love that. But I don’t want it to upset ya, seein’ how you’re feeling better than you have in a long time.”

“There are still days when my asthma pulls me under the weather, but for the most part, I’m doin’ all right. I do miss you and Susie and Polly terribly, though.” She sighed. “It hasn’t been the easiest thing to relocate like this, even for a while.” Her eyes caught Britta’s and held them. “I’ve been thinking ’bout your eagerness to know more about your birth mother, yet I’m struggling with it, too.”

“Struggling?”

“Jah, there are some tetchy things about it, which is why, for all these years, I haven’t been sure if I should even share everything. Honestly, I haven’t wanted to . . . haven’t thought it too wise.” She was quiet for a moment, looking out the window. “Some things are best left unsaid.”

Now Britta was more curious than ever, yet she wouldn’t press, trying to trust Mamma’s judgment.

“I wanted to protect ya, dear—wanted to tell you just enough to satisfy your curiosity. . . .”

“So that must be why ya want me to be older.”

Mamma nodded. “Still, I don’t want ya miserable, wonderin’.” She glanced heavenward. “I’ve been praying and ponderin’ how I should share the things I know, not withholding anything.”

Britta worried suddenly. Was she actually ready for whatever Mamma had to say, given how stressed and on edge she seemed? “Are ya sure?” Britta surprised herself by asking.

“Well, you’re here now. It’s better to talk this over in person than by letter or phone later on.” Her mother clutched the arms of her chair. “Jah, I daresay this might be the moment to tell how you came to be an Amish girl livin’ in Hickory Hollow. . . .”

———

It was July 12, one year after Eli’s death, and Aquilla’s young daughter, Susie, was spending the morning with Liz Ebersol, next farm over, when a knock came at the front door. Since it was rare anyone approached that door, Aquilla hurried to open it, and there stood a beautiful auburn-haired woman with dark eyes. The lovely young woman, scarcely out of her teens, was cradling an infant and asked apologetically if Aquilla might have a few moments to spare.