before and told her I wasn’t interested in selling after all.
Ada nodded, handed me back the box, and glanced at her copy of the email from Giselle, the one she had insisted I read to her last night over the phone several times.
“You seem so settled,” she told me, folding up the letter and sliding it into her pocket along with the envelope that held the locks of hair. As her eyes met mine, I realized that for her the opposite was true. She seemed less settled than she had since we’d met.
“I found closure here,” I told her, sounding a lot like James. “The end of a long journey to the truth.”
Again she nodded, and I realized that although my journey may have ended, hers had in a sense just begun. After all, I’d spent a lifetime wanting answers, but she hadn’t even known there were any questions until just a few days ago. She and her parents seemed well on their way to making peace and dealing with the past, which was important. But now I recognized something in Ada’s expression that I had seen in my own mirror countless times before, a hunger for understanding, a need to connect with her true past.
“You want to go to Switzerland.” I meant it to be a question but it came out more like a statement.
“Ya,” she answered dreamily, a faraway look in her eyes. Then, as if remembering herself, she blushed prettily and added, “But of course I… It’s not possible.”
Glancing around at her large, extended family, I tried to find the right words to say. Though I deeply respected Ada’s Amish heritage, I wanted to remind her that she had a choice, that she was free in this life to do whatever she wanted, regardless of how far away it might take her.
Unable to come up with the words after all, instead I reached into the backseat and pulled out the Coach bag, which I had emptied that morning. “For you,” I said, handing it to her.
Stunned, she shook her head, again looking around at her Amish surroundings. “I’m sorry, I cannot accept it. It wouldn’t be fitting.”
I understood her resistance, knowing that the purse was far too “fancy” for one who lived Plain.
“Maybe not around here. But I have to tell you, Ada, it makes a great travel bag. Might be the perfect accessory for a trip to Europe.”
The blush in her cheeks spread to cover her whole face. “It is very beautiful.” She reached out a finger and traced it along the handle. “But what about you? You have travels too, ya?”
I smiled.
“My big adventure is over for now,” I told my sister, again holding it up for her to take. “But something tells me yours has just begun.”
Later, back outside, I couldn’t help but linger at Mammi’s chair, even though I knew our time was nearly up and James and I needed to head to the airport. I had no doubt I would see most of these people again, but Mammi was old and in poor health, and I couldn’t help but be aware that this might be our final visit. That made our time together now bittersweet, our parting that much more difficult.
“You will write to me of your home out there in Oregon, yes?” she asked, taking both of my hands in hers as I knelt beside her. “I would love to hear from you now and then, to know you are doing well.”
I nodded, biting my lip, afraid that if I tried to speak I would cry. She seemed to understand. With effort, she raised one fine, wrinkled hand and placed it against my cheek.
“That’s a good girl,” she said, and her words echoed in my heart, stirring wisps of memory from our long-ago last farewell.
We said our goodbyes and then it was time for the rest: David and Esther and Simon and Caroline. Alice and Nancy. Will and Christy and the twins, Mat and Mel. Jonas and Hannah and Rachael and Elizabeth Alice. Klara and Alexander and Ada—my sweet sister, Ada.
Then, at last, came Marta and Ella and Zed. Marta hugged me fiercely, and before we pulled apart she whispered in my ear, saying that she’d spoken to Connie, who had already talked with the DA, and the case was to remained closed.
“Thank you for making me tell the whole truth,” she added as we pulled apart.
I simply smiled, looking from her to Klara, who had moved to stand beside Alexander