In that moment, she wanted to ask the bishop something but hesitated, instead taking another sip of tea, needing time to gather courage. At last, and still holding the cookie in her left hand, she said timidly, “I wonder if ya might be willing to tell the membership ’bout the woman who birthed me . . . that she was the driver who caused Eli’s death. So I don’t have to be worrying ’bout it coming out.” Britta also told the bishop that her mother had left it up to her to decide whether or not to tell anyone. “Mamma’s told my older siblings, and till now I’ve only shared this with Susie and one other person.”

Mary’s sweet face expressed gentle concern as the bishop said he would handle things for her. “And there’ll be no condemnation of you, I’ll see to that. What happened to Eli Mast wasn’t your doing. I urge ya to commit any feelings of shame to Gott.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “The People will be understanding toward ya.”

Britta appreciated that. Like the bishop, Mamma and Susie had also been kind and merciful. But a thick wall around her heart kept her from surrendering the burden she carried. Very early this morning, she’d awakened with a renewed sense of what she had to do. And an urgency unlike any she’d ever felt.

“There’s something else,” Britta said. “What would ya think if I tried to find the woman?”

Mary’s breath puffed out distinctly, and her shoulders slumped.

The bishop studied Britta, as if trying to give her his best guidance. “Well,” he said, followed by a lengthy pause, “biblical faith rests in God’s promises. Leavin’ the Amish life even for a time to find this woman would be a test of that faith.”

For a moment, Britta pondered the fact that she would soon be in her Rumschpringe, which meant she would be free to search for Kathleen as soon as her July birthday. “I’d still like to find her, though—mostly out of curiosity . . . to see her, to talk to her, to know what she’s like.” She paused. And if I fit in with her.

“Keep in mind that she might not want to be found, though. Ach, I’d hate to see ya hurt or disappointed.” Mary reached over to pat the back of her hand. “And if you do find her, I hope you’ll be careful how close ya get. She’s an outsider, dear.”

But also my flesh and blood, thought Britta.

Thick snowflakes began to fall as Susie watched Britta make the turn into the driveway. Before her sister could unhitch Brambles up near the stable, Susie went out to help, the snow coming faster now.

“I told the bishop and Mary ’bout Kathleen Stratton,” Britta said as they worked together. “Everything Mamma shared with me.”