The Amish Midwife - By Mindy Starns Clark Page 0,22

can focus, think about my birth family, think about finding the information I deserve to know. I need to devote all of my energies to that, not to us.” He looked at me intently, as if to say he hadn’t realized that our relationship was such hard work. We both knew it wasn’t. I dropped my gaze, adding, “But we can still talk. And text. Right? Occasionally?”

“Sure.” His voice was chilly.

My heart constricted. He was my best friend. What was I doing? I took my camera from my bag and snapped a picture of him, trying to lighten the moment.

“Stop.” He hated it when I did that. “You won’t be able to use that with the Amish.”

“Says who?” I put the camera on the table.

“The Amish.”

“What? Besides dressing as though it’s two centuries ago, they don’t believe in cameras?” I was especially sensitive to the dressing issue, even though my experience had been closer to dressing as if it were the 1930s. Still, I knew how humiliating it could be.

“I’ve been reading up on Pennsylvania.” James stood and put our garbage on the tray. “Apparently, they put photos in the category of graven images.”

“Oh.” Exodus. The Ten Commandments. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image. Thank goodness I’d only be in Amish country for a week or two. What would I do without my camera?

Darkness had fallen as we left the restaurant. “What do you hope to find?” he asked, stepping around me so he was walking closest to the street. Dad used to always do the same thing. I was pretty sure James learned it from Dad.

“Didn’t you already ask me that?”

“You didn’t answer.”

“My story,” I said. “The truth.”

James whistled. “That’s a pretty tall order.”

He didn’t come up to my apartment. As always, he would only do so if there was someone else with us. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t as chaste in high school.

I leaned in for a hug, but instead of embracing me, he grabbed my upper arms, pulled me toward him, and kissed me fiercely on the mouth. When the kiss was over, he straightened his arms, released his grip, and took a step back without a word. My face burning with heat, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it, I whispered my goodbye. Then I turned and unlocked the door of the building, stepped inside, and pulled it closed behind me. Climbing up the stairs, touching my lips as I went, I wondered what, exactly, I thought I was doing. When I reached my apartment, I switched on the living room lamp and stopped at the window. James stood on the sidewalk, just as he always did, waiting to make sure I was safe. Our eyes locked and held for a long moment, and then he walked away.

A coldness welled up inside of me. I turned on all the lights and my stereo. What was I hoping for? I shivered as I sank down onto my white couch. I wanted to know why they gave me up. And I hoped, once they got a good look at me, that they would be sorry they did. But I couldn’t tell James that. I could barely tell myself. My cell phone rang. I fished it out of my pocket, hoping it wasn’t work. I was shocked to register that I wanted it to be James. I hadn’t felt this with other guys when I’d said I needed “a break.”

It wasn’t work or James. It was Sophie.

“I talked with Marta directly,” she said, without saying as much as hello. “And it’s worse than I was led to believe. She’s being investigated for manslaughter.”

“Yikes.” I’d need to rethink going to help her. This was serious.

“Two counts. Mother and baby. And the partner in her practice retired to Kentucky right before this happened and can’t come back because of health problems.”

“Oh no.”

“But it won’t be any of your concern after all.” Sophie paused.

I grabbed a couch pillow and held it against my chest, trying to follow what she was saying.

“She doesn’t want you to come. She wouldn’t tell me why. Just that some family matters are better left alone. She said to tell you thanks but no thanks. That was all.”

SIX

After that conversation I left for Pennsylvania as soon as I could. I zipped down to Aurora and finished a few last-minute tasks at Dad’s, and then I draped sheets over all his furniture. It seemed like the thing to do when closing