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A heaviness centered in Daniel’s chest as he fought the growing lump in his throat. “Ya. She will be. Then she and Daed will choose a name.”

  Annie’s eyes stayed locked with Daniel’s. “What if she doesn’t wake up from the coma?”

  “She will.” She has to.

  Six

  Charlotte pulled Big Red into her driveway, a mixture of relief and disappointment sweeping over her when she saw Blake’s car gone. She’d hoped to spend more time with Andrea and Bella, but she was also exhausted, so a nap later didn’t sound bad either.

  She checked her phone again, still waiting to hear from Daniel, but no messages. Climbing the porch steps, she heard movement inside, and when she opened the door, she heard music coming from her bedroom.

  “Andrea?” She took slow, deliberate steps, just in case it wasn’t her sister.

  “In here.”

  Charlotte picked up her pace and stopped just over the threshold, slamming her hands to her hips. She opened her mouth to tell Andrea to get off her bed and how dare she go through her stuff, but when her sister lifted her head and held up a picture of Ethan, Charlotte eased closer to her. Bella was lying on the bed sucking her thumb, her eyelids heavy.

  “Bella got in your closet when I went to the bathroom, and when I returned to get her, I saw these pictures stacked in this hatbox, some of them with names on the back.” She glanced at the picture for a long while, smiling. “Ethan was handsome.”

  Charlotte sat on the foot of the bed, tucked her legs underneath her, and picked up a picture of their brother in a pair of swim trunks at the beach. “Yes, he was.”

  They were both quiet as they looked through the large collection of photos. Some were Charlotte’s, and some were pictures Ethan had. She’d recently put them all in one place. She glanced at Bella when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Bella edged closer to Charlotte and lay her head in her lap. “Aw,” she whispered as she ran her hand the length of Bella’s hair.

  “Wow. You’re really good with kids. She doesn’t normally cozy up to someone this fast.” Andrea pulled out another handful of pictures from the hatbox, then took her time flipping through them. “What was Ethan like?”

  Charlotte put one hand on Bella’s back, and she picked up another picture of Ethan, this one also on the beach. She fought the lump forming in her throat. “He loved the water. Beaches, lakes, rivers—it didn’t matter. And he was kind, thoughtful, and probably as messed up as I used to be.” And I loved him very much.

  She dug a few more photos out of the box. “I told you, we weren’t as fortunate as you. Our parents didn’t know how to parent, and foster care was no picnic either.” A shiver ran down Charlotte’s spine as she recalled the foster family she’d been with, then she closed her eyes and forced the memory away. “Anyway, I’ve seen a counselor most of my adult life. I have a therapist here, but I probably don’t go as often as I should.”

  “You don’t seem messed up.” Andrea looked up, her expression stilled. Maybe she was waiting for Charlotte to elaborate.

  Charlotte shrugged. No need to infuse survivor’s remorse into her sister’s psyche by explaining the pains associated with Ethan’s and her upbringing.

  “Well, I like to think that I’ve come a long way, partly through counseling. But I’ve learned a lot from Daniel and my Amish friends about faith, hope, and the power of prayer.” Charlotte kept her gaze on a picture of Ethan sitting in front of a fountain somewhere. “And someday, I’ll see Ethan again in heaven.”

  “I don’t believe in heaven or hell.” Andrea made the statement as definitively as if she’d just spoken the truth instead of voiced an opinion. “But before you go all righteous and religious on me, let me say this: I do believe in a higher power.” She waved an arm around Charlotte’s bedroom. “Someone is responsible for all of this, the planets, the earth, our existence . . . I just don’t think there is anything after this.” She shrugged, picked up another picture, then whispered, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

  A chill ran the length of Charlotte’s spine as she recalled the poetic words she’d heard at Janell’s funeral. But she’d run into this type of nonbeliever before, and while Charlotte had always believed in God and an afterlife, it wasn’t until after she’d invited the Holy Spirit into her life, accepted Jesus in her heart, and developed a real relationship with God the Father that everything changed. People could tell you about it until they were blue in the face, but knowing God was personal. Understanding beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was a heaven and a hell was an all-knowing feeling that’s hard to explain.

  But Andrea was Charlotte’s sister, and she could only dream of a day when they would be united with Ethan in heaven, so she was going to try. But people got funny about the subject if you preached at them. Show me, God. Tell me what to say.

  “If you believe a higher power is responsible for all of this”—Charlotte imitated Andrea’s wave of an arm—“then how can you be sure there isn’t anything after this life?” It was a poor start at a conversation Charlotte didn’t know how to have, but she stared at her sister and waited for an answer.

  Andrea flashed an expression filled with disdain, her dark eyes slicing the space between them. “The Bible is fiction. No one can prove that it’s real. And yes, believe it or not, I’ve read it—cover to cover.” She paused. “Don’t you think I want to believe?” She nodded at Bella. “Don’t you think I want to spend eternity with her?” She stared long and hard at Charlotte. “It just doesn’t exist. And there is nothing you can say to make me believe otherwise.”

  Oh, how I hope you’re wrong. Charlotte searched her heart and soul for the right words, but how did anyone explain the love of God and the sureness not only of His existence, but of life after death? Charlotte wasn’t qualified. And as she pondered this dilemma, her thoughts drifted to her fears about commitment to Daniel and the promises she wanted to make to God, the commitments that terrified her.

  If she was as strong in her faith as she thought, why couldn’t she be baptized and confident that she would do her best? That she would still sin but that God would forgive her? She’d faced so many demons in her life, it should be easy to embrace the facts she knew to be true and incorporate them into a life and future with Daniel.

  Charlotte picked up another picture, her heart heavy with memories. She wanted to get to know Andrea better, and preaching to her about faith and the reality of heaven might push her sister away. “Aw, look at this one.” She handed Andrea a picture and also noticed that Bella had fallen asleep in her lap. “That’s Ethan’s baseball team. It’s the only sport I remember him playing, and only for a year.”

  Andrea gazed at the picture, then lifted her eyes to Charlotte. “I guess you believe he’s in heaven.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I thought even holy rollers didn’t think suicide won you a trip to heaven.” Andrea raised an eyebrow.

  Charlotte lifted one shoulder, lowered it slowly, and sighed. “Yeah, I guess some people think you go straight to hell if you kill yourself, but I’m not one of them, especially since I think mental illness often plays a part in someone choosing to take his own life. Like in Ethan’s case. I don’t think he could handle the rejection of a woman he was in love with, and I think that, combined with his childhood and depression . . . well, I just think he couldn’t see his way past it all.”

  Maybe Charlotte doesn’t really believe in a heaven or hell after all. Andrea was disappointed that her sister hadn’t tried to convince her that there was a heaven.

  “Do you think our parents are in heaven?” Andrea wasn’t sure where this sudden interest in this subject was coming from, but an unwelcomed sense of curiosity poked at her mind like a cattle prod snapping her to attention, as if she wasn’t going to have any peace until she had more information.

  “I don’t know. That’s for God to decide.” Charlotte eased Bella’s head out of her lap and onto the bed before she stood and folded her arms across her chest. “So,
anyway . . . I’m guessing Blake picked up his car. Do you need me to take you somewhere? Where do you plan to stay?”

  Apparently Charlotte wasn’t going to try to push her beliefs on Andrea, which she should be happy about, she supposed. “I don’t really have anywhere to go.” She kept her eyes down, but then she glanced at Bella before looking up at Charlotte. “Maybe we can stay here for a while?”

  Her sister’s face turned pale. “Um . . . I don’t have an extra bedroom or a crib or . . .”

  “We’ve never had much. We don’t need much.” Andrea squeezed her lips together and avoided Charlotte’s gaze as she contemplated a way to take back her words. Charlotte thought she’d had a great childhood. Why had she felt the need to lie about it before? “I mean, when we moved here from Houston, we didn’t bring a lot with us.”

  “Don’t you have a job?” Charlotte frowned a little.

  “No. The only jobs I could find didn’t pay enough to justify day care for Bella. But I’ll get a job.” Andrea swallowed hard. She could practically see the wheels in Charlotte’s mind spinning.

  “Andrea, I’m glad you and Bella found me, and I want us to all get to know each other better, but I should probably tell you . . . I was struggling financially when I moved here. I don’t make a whole lot at my job at the newspaper, even though I love it. And I had to pay for most of Janell’s funeral, so I’m going to try to get my finances in order even more than I had before.”

  She paused, as if waiting for Andrea to say that it was okay, that she’d find somewhere else to stay. “And I don’t even have an oven or a microwave. Luckily, I get invited to supper most nights by either Daniel, my friend Hannah, or her parents, Lena and Amos.” Charlotte got a faraway look in her eyes. “I don’t know how I’ll ever pay them all back for the kindnesses they’ve shown me.” She refocused on Andrea. “I just think your parents can take better care of you and Bella than I can.”

  “I can’t go back there.”

  “Where? To your adoptive parents? Why?” Charlotte tipped her head to one side, frowning again.

  “Um . . . they are just too strict.” Partially true. She chose to omit the part about getting thrown out of the house a couple of years ago for stealing her mother’s diamond ring. That event had earned her a bloody nose at the hand of her father before he tossed her out. Time in a women’s shelter and an unplanned pregnancy had followed.

  But those days were behind her. Having Bella had changed all of that. She’d reached out to her parents after Bella was born, since Andrea had changed, but their clipped tone and refusal to help their adopted daughter and granddaughter had stung too much.

  Charlotte lowered her head as she scratched her forehead, then looked back up. “Do you really want to sleep on my couch every night?”

  I’ve slept in much worse places. “I don’t mind at all.” In truth, she’d woken up with a stiff back.

  “I, uh . . . I guess it’s okay for a few days.”

  Andrea breathed a huge sigh of relief. “We won’t be any trouble.” She smiled but recalled an earlier event. “Hey, on a different note, there was an Amish lady digging in your front yard today.”

  “What?” Charlotte eased herself back onto the bed next to Bella. “Digging for what? Digging up a plant or something?”

  “No. She was in the middle of your yard with a shovel. Maybe she’s crazy or something.”

  “I don’t have any crazy Amish friends.”

  Andrea shrugged. “I don’t know then.” She picked up another picture of Ethan. “Look, this is weird.” She handed the photo to Charlotte. “There are butterflies all around him, and even two on his arm.”

  Charlotte smiled. “I know. Isn’t that something? Ethan always attracted butterflies. Some people believe that they’re angels or messengers from heaven trying to get our attention. I don’t know if that’s true, but I love this picture. It was taken in our parents’ backyard during one of the more tolerable summers we had as kids.” She handed it back, and Andrea waited for Charlotte to elaborate about heaven again, but she didn’t.

  Andrea had an answer to every religious question that had ever been thrown at her, a zillion ways to rebuke the theory that there was life after death. But she wanted nothing more in the world than to believe she’d spend an eternity with Bella, that she’d have an opportunity to be a better person and a better mother in another life.

  When Charlotte’s phone rang, she rushed to the living room and found her purse, where she’d slung it onto the couch when she got home. “It’s Daniel,” she said in a loud whisper. “I gotta take this.”

  She answered, then walked onto the porch, down the steps, and into the yard, far enough away that Andrea hopefully couldn’t hear her conversation.

  “Wie bischt, I’m sorry I haven’t called before now. Mei phone was dead, but I finally borrowed a charger.”

  Charlotte’s chest hurt as she listened to Daniel explain about Eve, how she was in a coma after delivering a healthy baby girl.

  “Mei daed won’t leave her side. And he said we aren’t naming the baby until Mamm wakes up. I don’t think he’s been to see the baby in the nursery since she was born.”

  Charlotte swiped at a tear. “I’m so sorry.” She thought about how unqualified she’d felt to lead Andrea into God’s light. Charlotte still struggled with her own faith sometimes. Despite his strong faith, Daniel was hurting—whether he believed his mother’s condition to be God’s will or not. “What can I do?”

  “Annie and I need to go home for a while. We don’t really want to leave, but Daed said that Annie needs to help Aunt Faye, and I have plenty of chores to do this evening and early tomorrow morning before I go to work. We’ve got a couple of small jobs.” He took a breath. “I can hire a driver, but I was wondering if—”

  “Of course. I’ll pick you and Annie up at the hospital. I want to see the baby anyway.” She looked over her shoulder. “Speaking of babies, I have a lot to tell you too.”

  Daniel listened to Charlotte’s brief rundown about her sister and her sister’s child. He wanted to be happy for Charlotte—that they’d all reconnected. But one thing Daniel knew about Charlotte was that she sought order in her life, and upheavals caused her to lose her sense of God’s peace. He’d explained to her before that the more God challenged us, the more blessings would be forthcoming. But even as he had the thought, Daniel felt a restlessness he couldn’t identify about the situation with his mother.

  “I need to go back inside, but Annie and I will go outside in a few minutes and wait for you.”

  After he ended the conversation, he went to his mother’s room. His father hadn’t moved from his chair by the bed, and he barely glanced at Daniel when he came into the room.

  “Daed, Charlotte is going to pick up Annie and me in a little while. Have you eaten?” Daniel’s gaze drifted to his mother. A long tube in her throat seemed to be breathing for her. Her cheeks were sunken in, her color pale, and someone had put on her kapp. It was lopsided, but his mother would be grateful, not wanting people to see her without her prayer covering.

  “Ya, I ate.” His father’s elbows were resting on his knees as he cupped his chin, the length of his beard nearly to his knees.

  Daniel stroked his clean-shaven chin. When would he have the honor of growing a beard? When I’m married. He was starting to wonder if that was going to happen. He thought about the bishop’s nudge recently. In his heart Daniel knew Charlotte loved him, and that should be enough, but he feared that for Charlotte, it might not be.

  He glanced at a half-eaten bag of Doritos on the bedside table. “Do you want me to get you something from the cafeteria?” Daniel looked out the window as it started to sprinkle.

  “Nee. Tend to the needs at our home. I will be fine here with your mudder.”

  Daniel rubbed his chin again. “Do you want to go see the boppli? Annie was able to hold her and feed her earlier.”

  Daed shook his head, his eyes staying on his fraa. “I will see her later.”


  Daniel took a final look at his mother before he turned to leave. He was almost out the door when his father called his name.

  “The next time you come to visit, can you bring some of Faye’s pickled oysters?”

  Daniel nodded, although his father despised the oysters. As he walked down the hospital hallway to find Annie, he recalled what the doctor had said. “You can talk to her. We don’t know how much a comatose person can hear, but there have been all kinds of things that snap a person to consciousness.”

  Daniel smiled to himself. A whiff of Aunt Faye’s oysters might be exactly what the doctor ordered.

  But when he rounded the corner, his smile faded. Annie rushed to him in tears.

  Seven

  Annie pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her black apron, blotted her eyes, then blew her nose.

  “What’s wrong?” Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed as the lines across his forehead deepened.

  Sniffling, Annie stuffed the hanky back in her pocket and lifted her chin. “I’m fine.”

  Daniel stiffened. “You don’t look fine.”

  “It’s Jacob. He’s having some financial problems, and he wants to get home before his mother’s surgery.” Annie wasn’t going to lie, but she wasn’t planning on telling her brother the entire truth—that Jacob was also on the run from some bad people he owed money and that she was afraid for him.

  “You already told me that, and I told you I’d help. How are you going to get Jacob the money though?” Daniel relaxed his stance a little as he looped his thumbs beneath his suspenders. He reminded her of their father when he did that.

  “He said there is something called Western Union.” She swallowed back the knot in her throat. “But I need to get the money to him quickly. And he’s still worried about how his return will be received.”

  “He wasn’t baptized, so it isn’t like he was shunned. He’s free to come back at any time.”