The Amish Midwife - By Mindy Starns Clark Page 0,98

Ada last Thursday and about how alike we looked, how I was thinking again that Alexander might be my birth father.

“Wow, Lex. How does that make you feel?”

“It’s really amazing how much we look alike—”

James interrupted me. “But how did you feel?”

I sat up straight on the bed, rolling my eyes for no one but myself. “How was your retreat?” I asked.

He sighed. “Good, thanks. I’m not sure I want to make troubled youths my future, but I’m learning a lot.” We chatted about his schoolwork for a while longer. He told me he was working on a project for his Issues in Counseling Class. “I’m doing it on adoption,” he said.

“Oh, how’s the orchard?” I asked, desperate to change the subject, once again. “Sophie said you’d done some work out there. Isn’t the caretaker keeping up with things?”

“I like it down there, that’s all.”

“Even though you have so many other things going on…”

“Even though—Hey, there was a Realtor snooping around.”

“Darci?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He paused. “Yep, she gave me her card. Who told her she could—”

“I did. I talked with her before I left.” I inched across the bed until my feet were on the floor.

“You’re thinking about selling?”

“Maybe,” I answered. Honestly, I was thinking about it more and more.

“Well, she sounded like she might have someone who is interested in looking at the place.”

“Really? She hasn’t called me.”

“They’re from California—and coming up this week.”

“Oh.” I stood, stepping to the window and bending down to look out into the darkness, imagining my orchard.

“What are you going to do about Ada? And Alexander?”

I had been thinking about asking Ada to take a DNA test, but I wasn’t going to tell James that. “I don’t know.”

“Does it make you feel—”

“Hey, I’ve got to go,” I said.

“Lex.”

“I’ll call soon.”

His voice sounded raw as he said goodbye.

That night I dreamed about the orchard. People were hiding behind the trees. Dad. Ada. Mama. James. Ella. I knew they were there but I couldn’t see their faces. Others too, but I had no idea who they were. Just nameless figures partially attached to the brim of a hat, the hem of a dress, the tie of a cap blown out from behind a trunk. Sean was there too, leaning against a tree. I could see his face, and then he turned around and started walking off, toward Baltimore.

TWENTY-FIVE

Monday morning, after Ella left for school, her hair tucked behind her cap and her long-sleeved dress buttoned to her chin, I told Marta I needed to talk with her.

“Is this about Ella?” She stood at the kitchen sink, a dishtowel over her shoulder.

I nodded.

“And her night of drinking?”

I nodded again, my eyes wide.

“She told me last night,” Marta said. “I’m going to catch up on some paperwork in the office.” That was it. I asked Marta, before she dashed out the door, if she could reschedule Wednesday morning’s appointments to Thursday, which was a light day. She nodded but didn’t ask me why.

Ella and Marta seemed to get along fine both Monday and Tuesday. They were polite and cordial. Marta was a little bit more affectionate than normal, patting Ella’s shoulder a couple of times. I saw Ella texting someone, but there was no indication whom she was in contact with. On Tuesday evening Marta took a meal to Esther and David, and Ella and Zed went with her. I declined to go. They weren’t gone long, and when they returned home, Marta said that little Caroline had a cold and had been fussy. She said Esther was exhausted and Simon was out of sorts.

I kept expecting Ella to slip out of the house, kept listening for the roar of Ezra’s motorcycle to interrupt the night, but neither happened.

Zed kept giving me updates, telling me he hadn’t heard back from the man in Switzerland. He seemed to be as anxious about the whole thing as I was.

It took forever for Wednesday morning to arrive, but finally it did and I was out of the cottage before Zed and Ella had left for school, going by the Morning Mug first to spend some time on my laptop. There still weren’t any responses to my posting. I considered joining an online support group so I could lament with other adoptees, but I decided it would be pointless right now because I didn’t have much time to post or comment anyway, not to mention my Internet access at Marta’s was minimal. I caught up on the news, bouncing between CNN