The Amish Midwife - By Mindy Starns Clark Page 0,115

He let go of the marker and it rolled across his desk, landing on the floor. He didn’t seem to notice. He clicked on the mouse in front of him, opening a document on his computer. “Cousins share an eighth of the same DNA, although it’s higher among families that intermarry. From analyzing the strands of hair—and by the way, the one you gave me wasn’t yours.” He was looking straight at me. “It’s hers.” He nodded toward Ada.

He started to go on, but I leaned forward in my chair and told him to wait a second. I was puzzled at how Ada’s hair could have ended up in my box, considering that my parents had whisked me away to Oregon when I was still an infant and Ada hadn’t even been born yet. In fact, she wouldn’t come along for another two years.

“Are you sure?” I asked, thinking that the only way that the lock of hair could have been Ada’s was if it had been sent to us later. I had always been under the impression that our families had had no further contact once my adoption was final, but now I realized that wasn’t correct, that someone here must have been in touch with my parents and mailed a lock of Ada’s hair to Oregon after she was born.

“Positive.” He stared at the screen again. “Anyway, you share much more DNA than cousins.”

“Half siblings, right?” I was sure my voice was as elated as I felt, even though I was trying to be sensitive to Ada.

Chuck shook his head.

I sighed.

“Full siblings,” he said.

I lurched forward. “You’re kidding.”

Ada grabbed my hand.

“I’m not kidding. It’s not a fluke you look so much alike. You’re sisters.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

Ada and I sat in the parking garage, the motor running, me incapable of putting the car into reverse.

“Mamm must be your mother too,” she said.

“Klara? If so, then why would she give me up? Why list Giselle as my mother in the family Bible?”

Ada turned toward me, tucking her feet up on the seat. “You were conceived before my parents were married, right?”

“That’s what the dates in the Bible spell out.”

“So, you know.” She grinned sheepishly. “They were embarrassed.”

Embarrassed, perhaps, but enough to get rid of a baby? It seemed to me that just wasn’t done in the Amish community. I thought of Peggy keeping her oldest daughter and then marrying someone else. I thought of the handful of Marta’s patients I had seen in the last month who were several months further into their pregnancies than they were into their marriages. They weren’t proud of it, of course, but they didn’t seem all that ashamed of it either. Overall, I had received the impression that the Amish didn’t make a big deal out of it as long as the couple confessed and repented and, in most cases, went ahead and got married.

But maybe I was different. Maybe I cried a lot and was a pain to take care of. Was that why Klara had given me up?

I shook my head. I was back in fantasyland. No one gave a baby up because she cried too much. No, I had a strong feeling the truth was the opposite of the conclusion Ada had drawn. She thought this meant my mother was Klara, but I felt sure it meant that her mother was Giselle. I tried suggesting that to her, as tactfully as possible.

“That’s ridiculous. My parents were married for two years before I was even born.” She just wasn’t getting it.

I sighed. Did I have to spell it out to her? “What if your dad had a thing for Giselle?”

Ada shook her head. “He adores Mamm. He always has.”

I bit my tongue to keep from saying it seemed to me that, more than anything, he was afraid of Klara. But Ada was entitled to see things as she wanted. With an effort I managed to back out of my parking place and circle down to the street. “Whatever the real truth is, someone is lying to us.”

Ada nodded. “But I’m sure there’s a good reason.”

I didn’t respond. Maybe Sean had been right all along about Amish women being brainwashed. Ada seemed to curl up into herself as I silently drove. Finally, as I turned off the main highway onto the country road, she said, “I’ve always felt that Mamm and Daed were keeping something from me, but I thought it was about my illness, that it was more serious than they said.” She paused