The Amish Bride by Mindy Starns Clark, Leslie Gould Page A

turned right toward Aunt Klara’s. Sheets of rain bounced against the pavement. It was so dreary, I hoped Mammi hadn’t gone back to bed. Some days she did that, even though she was much better than she’d been a few years ago, before my medically trained cousin Lexie had come into our lives and discovered some dosage issues with the prescriptions Mammi had been taking.
    Lexie’s visit here had had a huge impact on our family in many ways. Before then, a lot of secrets had been kept under wraps, secrets that had to do with why she’d been given up for adoption years before to a childless couple who lived out in Oregon. Lexie had come here searching for the identity of her birth parents and ended up blowing the lid off a whole shocking web of lies and secrets. That had been a painful time for all of us, but in the end the truth really had set us free.
    Since then, we’d all seen a lot of healing take place. Aunt Klara wasn’t so bitter. Aunt Giselle was no longer so estranged from the family. Uncle Alexander stood taller and spoke stronger than he ever had before. And Mammi seemed far less burdened and remorseful.
    I turned toward the window. Here I thought that time was all about the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and yet Mom hadn’t said a word about my father being Zed’s father too. I’d thought that all of our family’s secrets had been brought into the light during that great come-to-the-truth meeting, as Lexie liked to call it, but in fact one of the biggest secrets of all had stayed in the dark—and right under my own nose, no less.
    Mom turned down the lane and the car bounced through puddle after puddle until my aunt and uncle’s white house with the balcony finally came into view. The wisteria that wound its way along the railing was as bare and ominous as a skeleton. Up ahead, I spotted a carriage headed toward the barn. Perhaps it was Will’s. Or his parents’.
    Mom parked under the pine trees, and then she and I dashed towardthe house, holding our capes tight to keep our hoods on our heads. Zed came along behind us at a more leisurely pace.
    My mom’s older sister, Aunt Klara, had the door wide open before we reached the porch.
    “Come in before you drown,” she called out. She motioned to us to hurry and then stepped over the threshold, peering around us. “Come on, Zed!”
    As we stepped through the doorway and paused to take off our shoes, I was greeted by Ada and her stepdaughters, thirteen-year old Christy and three-year-old twin girls, Mel and Mat. Izzy Mueller was with them too, a young teen who had been working with Ada as a mother’s helper. She’d grown tall and willowy since the last time I’d seen her, and her hair had darkened to a deep chestnut.
    Standing near the kids were Ezra’s grandmother Alice, and his parents, Ben and Nancy. Ezra himself, however, I didn’t see anywhere. I didn’t see Will either, for that matter, and wondered which one of them had been driving the buggy around to the barn. I called out a hello to everyone as I shed my cape and gave a hug and kiss to Mammi , who was standing in the midst of the fray.
    Zed closed the door behind himself, flicking his wet bangs from his eyes. When he also hugged Mammi , I noticed he towered over her now.
    “Oh, how you’ve grown,” she gushed, reaching to pat his shoulder. “You’re going to be well over six feet, aren’t you?”
    I stepped back, taking in the two of them and wondering if Mammi knew whom Zed’s father was.
    Alice and Mammi sat down in the living room. Ben said he would go out and help Uncle Alexander finish his chores, and Mel and Mat grabbed Zed’s hands and led him over to the stack of puzzles on the bookcase by the fireplace. Izzy joined them. Mom and I followed Aunt Klara, Ada, Christy, and Nancy into the kitchen. The table, extended for tonight, was already set, and the scent of roasting chicken filled the air.
    “I just need to mash the potatoes,” Aunt Klara said.