“Clear as anything. It was wonderful when I came home from school and there you were, though I knew you were a foster baby, like the few others Mamma and Dat had cared for—infants and even several toddlers earlier, before you came along,” Susie told her, recalling the initial surprise but also the incredibly warm feelings she’d had upon first seeing Britta. “Mamma sat with me on the settee and let me hold you, sayin’ how she’d wished for another child to care for and believed God had answered her prayers.” Susie paused. “It might have seemed odd to some people, ya know, for a widow to take in another baby.”

Britta was quiet.

Susie reached for her hand. “I’ll never forget how you snuggled into my arms, Schweschder. Like we were meant to be sisters. I grew very attached to you and wasn’t ready to lose you after the foster care came to an end.”

Britta smiled pensively, like there was more on her mind. “When Mamma told ya my name, what did ya think?”

“It was such a perty name for a perty baby. And I s’pose I should have guessed you were born to an Englischer—you were dressed that way, that first day—but I never learned for sure. Guess it didn’t matter to me. I was just so glad to have ya to love.”

Britta was swinging her arms now as she walked. “Well, I still wish Mamma would’ve been the one to name me, ’least after she adopted me.” Then for a long time she was silent, as if she’d run out of things to say.

Susie stayed quiet, too, hesitant to break the silence and Britta’s obvious reflection.

When they came to where the road curved away to the home of Aaron Kauffman and his family, Britta stared at the large property, with its several Dawdi Heiser. Then she said softly, “I never told ya what Aaron said to me when we were in first grade.” Britta shook her head sadly, then turned so she and Susie could head back the other way. “That ornery boy spouted off that I didn’t belong here and never would.”

“Oh, Britta . . . that must have been awful to hear. What a thing to say!”

“I never forgot it,” Britta said, her voice breaking. “It keeps goin’ round and round in my memory.”

Susie continued to hold her hand while they walked, the sound of crickets in the thickets nearby as lightning bugs flickered over the meadow. “Remember, you’ll always be my sister, and Mamma’s daughter, too.”

Britta glanced at her. “I know, and I’m grateful.”

“Aaron wasn’t thinkin’ when he talked like that,” Susie added.

“Honestly, I wonder how many others think that ’bout me.” Britta sniffled, but she clung to Susie’s hand.

“No one that I know,” Susie said adamantly.