The Search by Suzanne Fisher Page A

felt her face grow warm as blood rushed to her head. She sat down in the chair to steady herself. “I never knew her name,” she said in a faraway voice. “I knew Rebecca had her baby, but I never knew the baby’s name. It was the same week my mother died . . .” The words got stuck in her throat and she couldn’t continue.
    Bertha leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Jonah and Rebecca’s baby was named Bess, so that’s what he called this little girl.” She took a deep breath. “That’s what he called the little baby girl you switched on us, Lainey. Fifteen years ago.”
    Lainey felt as if her heart was pounding so loudly that Bertha must be able to hear it. She looked down at her lap and saw that her hands were trembling. It was such a hot day, but she was suddenly cold. For a brief second, the room started to spin and she thought she might faint. “How long . . . ?” Her voice drizzled off.
    “How long have I known?” Bertha leaned forward, cool as custard, to take a sip of iced tea. “From the moment I arrived at the hospital, after the accident.” She smoothed out the oilcloth on the table. “Think I wouldn’t know my own grandbaby? And Mrs. Hertz told me—told the whole town—about your baby sister’s passing and you getting shipped off to a foster home. Wasn’t beyond my apprehension to put two and two together.”
    Lainey chanced a look at Bertha. “Samuel knew too?”
    For the first time, Bertha seemed mildly distressed. She slipped off her spectacles and polished them. Then she blew her nose, loud. “That rain we had last night was hard on my sciences.”
    Lainey frowned. “Your what?”
    “My sciences.” She gave her nose a honk.
    “I think you mean your sinuses.”
    Bertha huffed a small laugh. “That’s what I said.” She stuffed her handkerchief in her apron pocket.
    Lainey tried again. “Did Samuel know?”
    Bertha took her time answering. “No. The very week Rebecca had her baby, Samuel’s brother in Somerset was laid up in the hospital for a bleeding ulcer. Samuel went to go help finish up spring planting on his brother’s farm. He hadn’t laid eyes on his own granddaughter yet. But he came back as soon as I sent word about the accident.”
    Lainey felt the words lock in her throat. “Why . . . why didn’t you ever tell?”
    “When Jonah found out that Rebecca had died, it was like the light had gone out of him. His back was broke to smithereens.”
    Lainey’s eyes went round as quarters. “He’s paralyzed?”
    “No. His spiney cord wasn’t hurt, but his lower back was broke. He had to learn to walk all over again. Knowing Bess needed him was all that kept him going.”
    Lainey stared at Bertha for a long time. She rubbed her forehead. “Are you saying that Jonah doesn’t know?”
    Bertha shook her head and looked away. “You know how fast babies change and grow. By the time Jonah was able to see her and hold her, she was already holding her head up and rolling over.” She sighed. “But Jonah never knew. I planned to tell him. I meant to. But there never seemed to be a good time. And then weeks and months turned into years.”
    Lainey closed her eyes and squeezed her fists tight. She should have realized! She should have known! The color of Bess’s hair—white blond—and those turquoise eyes. Simon’s hair color. Simon’s eyes. She looked at Bertha. “So . . . Bess . . . is my half sister?”
    As Bertha nodded, a single tear fell on Lainey’s cheek, followed by another and another, until she couldn’t hold them back anymore. She covered her face with her hands and wept.

    When Bertha Riehl invited Billy for Sunday lunch, even then, he felt a pang of unease. He should have known that she would have something up her sleeve. She had a reputation for doing the unexpected. He had been working for her for over two years now, and she had never once invited him for Sunday dinner . . . until today. Normally, he got a