A slight pause, then, “Britta? How wonderful to hear your voice!”

“Denki for the perty Christmas card and note,” Britta said, pleased by Kathleen’s enthusiastic response.

“And yours, too. It was so thoughtful—and such a wonderful surprise, too.”

Britta mentioned that her Mamma had volunteered Kathleen’s mailing address.

“Aquilla is very kind,” Kathleen said. “Every year, without fail, she’s sent me a lovely long letter to tell me about your life—your schoolwork, your hobbies, every imaginable thing my mother’s heart longed to know. . . .” She stopped a moment. “Please excuse me, Britta. While I’m very glad you’ve reached out to me, I hope you understand I don’t want to interfere with the beautiful relationship you obviously have with Aquilla. She’s been a true mother to you in every way that matters.”

A true mother, thought Britta, wondering how Mamma would feel if she could hear Kathleen say that. “I was . . . well, I’ve been very curious ’bout you,” Britta continued, touched by her gracious words. “Do ya have other children?”

“Yes. My husband, Chad, and I have two sons, Trey and Randy, ten and eight.” Kathleen mentioned that Chad managed an auto repair shop and that she and her family enjoyed winter sports: skating and tobogganing, but especially cross-country skiing.

Britta felt a little overwhelmed at this news, as well as how eager Kathleen seemed to be to share about her life.

“We’re also very involved in our church. We host small groups in our home once a month, and Chad conducts a Saturday men’s prayer group every other week, too.” Kathleen talked of her sons’ recent interest in rowing, and Britta mentioned the boat Dat had built years ago.

When there was a pause, Britta asked if she knew much about Hickory Hollow.

“Well, occasionally I take the boys to one of the farmers markets near there.”

“Really?” Britta remembered seeing a woman at market who she’d thought could be her birth mother—at least as she imagined her—and with two young boys, no less. “I actually wondered if I saw ya there once,” she told her.

“How long ago?” Kathleen asked.

“More than two years.” Britta couldn’t believe it. “To think we might’ve run into each other without knowing.”

“No kidding.” Kathleen paused. “Perhaps your mother told you, but I visited you several times when you were little. Has she said anything to you about those visits?”

Britta heard the note of hesitation in her voice. “Jah,” she said. “I mean . . . yes.”