A Secret Identity (15 page)

After their initial chitchat, Alma told her briefly about me. She then put her hand over the phone and said, “She’ll see you any night but Friday.”

“How about tonight?” I fluttered my hand over my heart. Nothing like being pushy.

A moment later Alma hung up and looked at me.

“Well?” I prompted. My lungs seemed unable to pull in air for the great paralysis that had taken possession of them.

Alma smiled. “Tonight around seven.”

Air whooshed out as I recovered my ability to breathe again. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You have no idea what this means to me.”

She patted my hand. “I wish you well. And—” She paused and studied me, “I think I’d enjoy being your aunt or cousin or whatever it is we might be to one another.” She held the rolled document out to me.

“For me?” I stared from it to her, stunned by her comment, suffused with affection for her and all the others I hadn’t yet met.

“For you. It’s a copy.” She patted my hand again as I reached to take it. “Just be careful, Cara. I don’t want you to build too many castles in the clouds and then get hurt. We don’t actually
know
anything yet.”

I nodded. I understood her concern although I wasn’t certain I could prevent the castle building.

“You don’t mind if I pray for you, do you?” Alma asked. “For God’s leading and protection over you?”

“Not in the least,” I said. “I’ve been praying about this search ever since I learned there was something to search for. I’ve even been praying that I find that my family prays.”

“Well,” she said, “some of us pray anyway.”

“The missionaries,” I said.

“And a few others of us.”

We walked out of the restaurant side-by-side, an easy camaraderie between us.

God, I want her to be my aunt or whatever she’d be. Can she be my aunt? Please
?

When Alma halted beside her car, I stopped with her.

She reached to give me a quick hug. “Let me know what you find out, even if we aren’t the right family, okay?”

I nodded and stood watching as she drove away. I climbed into my car, putting the family tree—my family tree?—carefully on the passenger seat. My stomach was still teeming, and my heart was hammering like the tympani at the “Wonderful, Counselor, the Mighty God” section of “For unto Us” in Handel’s
Messiah
. I
knew
I was on the right track. I couldn’t wait to tell Todd. And Ward and Marnie, I added belatedly.

I drove across the street from the Olive Garden to Park City Mall and went shopping for a dress suitable for a formal garden party. It didn’t take long to realize that everything I was attracted to was beige, tan, cream, or champagne. My favorite dress was a soft cream silk that looked great on me, but I wouldn’t allow myself to buy it. I was not going to be bland even if it killed me.

I finally settled on a coral column dress that fell from my shoulders to my ankles, skimming my body lightly. I bought new dress sandals in
gold
, not bone or taupe, and earrings of gold and coral that swayed and twisted below my ears. No little gold buttons for the special night. I decided I would carry the beautiful cream cashmere shawl that Pop and Mom had given me for my twenty-fifth birthday, the fabric so fine and delicate you could see through it. Surely cream was okay for a shawl.

As I was leaving the store with my wild purchases, I passed the men’s department. I wandered over to the ties and studied them. A wide splash of tans, browns, corals, and crimsons caught my eye. I thought of the monochromatic outfits Todd wore and the ties with the tiniest of patterns. I grabbed a wild one and bought it before I could change my mind. If I had to get rid of beige, he had to get rid of overly buttoned down. It was only fair.

As I drove toward home, I decided I couldn’t wait until evening to tell Todd about my time with Alma. I grabbed my cell phone from my bag and dialed his office. Mrs. Smiley answered.

“Mrs. Smiley, this is Cara Bentley. May I speak to Todd, please?” I tried for Bentley imperiousness so she would comply but ruined it by saying meekly, “That is, if he’s not with a client.”

With a click of her tongue, Mrs. Smiley put me through.

“Cara, what’s up?” Todd’s voice was rich and vital, and I thought I’d rarely heard a more pleasant sound.

“I met with Alma Stoltzfus,” I said. “And—”

“And you’re vibrating,” he interrupted.

“I am not.”

He laughed. “Where are you calling from?”

“I’m on 340. I just got off the 30 Bypass.”

“Stop in and tell me what happened. It’d be much better in person.”

“I’m not interrupting anything important?”

“I don’t see another client for about an hour.”

I was still giddy when I pulled into the parking area behind his office and got out. It was strange and wonderful that though I only knew one person in Bird-in-Hand and he was male, I not only felt free to call him, but he actually asked me to stop at his office on a nonappointment basis. I felt like one of my heroines.

It was obvious when I walked in, though, that Mrs. Smiley did
not
share my elation at the unscheduled visit.

“Miss Bentley, Mr. Reasoner does not receive visitors while at work,” she informed me. “Only scheduled clients.”

“I’m a client,” I said, ignoring
scheduled
. “Remember? Just tell him I’m here, please.”

She picked up the phone, announced I was there. She stood and moved toward the inner office. She knocked and opened the door.

“Mr. Reasoner,” she said as she unhappily ushered me into the office, “you must tell me when you change your schedule. How am I to keep the office running smoothly and efficiently if I don’t know your plans?”

“
Mea culpa
, Mrs. Smiley,” he said, trying to look properly contrite. The fact that I was standing behind her smiling broadly at his groveling efforts didn’t help his attempt to look apologetic. I wiggled my index finger back and forth at him in silent reprimand.

When we were finally seated side-by-side on the alcove sofa, I opened the family tree that Alma had given me. I felt like an ancient Christian unrolling a letter from the apostle Paul, looking for and finding clues to a new life.

“Todd, I’ve got to tell you! I think I’ve found my family!”

Todd’s mouth quirked in that half smile, and he shook his head. “You’re definitely vibrating, woman!”

I looked at him, exasperated. “I am not.”

He raised an eyebrow.

My hand pulsed against my collarbone and I relented a bit. “Okay, so maybe I’m excited.”

“Vibrating—and no maybe about it.”

“Excited,” I said with deliberation.

“Can’t face the truth, can you?”

“Can’t leave well enough alone, can you?”

We grinned at each other and kept staring long after the grins died away. His dark eyes captured mine, and I was trapped in their warmth just like a heroine in one of my novels would be. It was a ridiculous, wonderful moment.

Todd broke first, clearing his throat and saying, “So, tell me all about it.”

I blinked. “Right.” And I showed him Madeleine who married Enos Lehman.

“Lehman, Todd! Lehman!” My finger trembled just a bit as it pointed out the name. “Just like Pop.”

“But don’t forget that Lehman is a relatively common name around this area.” He bent forward over the chart, studying it seriously, giving the moment its due. “Just because your grandfather was called Lehman doesn’t mean he’s connected to Enos Lehman. Besides, when was your Pop born?”

“1918.”

“And when were Madeleine and Enos married?”

“1920.”

“Bit of a time discrepancy there. Isn’t two years after the event a long time before a marriage between the principals would take place?”

I frowned at him. “I don’t know. Maybe all it means is that we don’t have the right explanation yet.”

“Maybe.” He looked at me carefully. “But, Cara, it could mean a lot more than that.” His voice was soft but his point was hard. I knew he meant I needed to remember that there might be no connection.

“Spoilsport,” I said unhappily.

“Cara, look at me.”

I tore my eyes from the family tree,
my
family tree. It had to be!

“Cara, don’t set yourself up for disappointment by believing so strongly with so little information.”

“Advice from my lawyer?”

“Advice from someone who cares and who also happens to be your attorney.”

We sat quietly for a couple of minutes while I tried to deal with my conflicting emotions. I knew he was right when he said I was jumping ahead without proof. I knew he was right when he said I was setting myself up to be hurt. I knew he was right when he said I didn’t have enough information.

But I didn’t want him to be right! I wanted God to answer my prayer and make these people mine. I wanted Alma to be my aunt. I wanted to be a Biemsderfer! My passion for wanting these things was unreasonable. I knew it. The need I felt was out of proportion, and I knew that too. But the yearning remained, filling my mind and heart with a craving of extraordinary intensity.

Was it genes calling to genes? Or was it that Ward and I were alone in the world? Or was it a weakness in me that required I get my dream, like a kid who demands a pony for her birthday and won’t be satisfied with less, even though she lives in a city in a fourth-floor apartment?

While I sat and lectured myself, Todd continued poring over the chart, studying it with deep concentration. He followed the lines of descent from Madeleine and Enos, until he got to the present. Suddenly he tapped his finger against a name.

“I know an Amos Yost,” Todd said.

I looked at the name Amos Yost, son of Elizabeth Lehman Yost, daughter of Madeleine and Enos Lehman.

I turned, my eyes suddenly hopeful. “Will you introduce me to him? He would be Pop’s nephew, my father’s first cousin.”

“If—”

“Right. If.”

Todd was silent for a few seconds. “There are probably lots of Amos Yosts,” he finally said. “Both Amos and Yost are common Dutch names.”

“Yes, but—”

“Yes, but nothing,” Todd said. “The truth is that I don’t want this Amos to be yours. I really don’t like the man all that much.”

“Then let me meet him so I can cross him off my list. He does live around here?”

“He lives around here.”

“Come on, Todd.” I wasn’t quite begging since I hadn’t fallen to my knees and clasped my hands together, but I was very close to whining.

He cocked his head. “Let me think about it.”

“Todd!”

“That’s the best you’re going to get for now.”

And I could tell that it was. But I knew that given time I could talk him into introducing me to Amos. After all, I always got what I wanted out of Pop, didn’t I? I decided to take a slightly different tack.

“Do you remember when you were a kid—”

“I try not to,” he said wryly.

I refused to be sidetracked. “Now listen to me and don’t interrupt.” I spoke like a teacher might to her favorite hyperactive student.

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Bossy.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Just ask Ward. Now, do you remember when you were a kid and you were going to do something very special and you got this agitated, uncomfortable feeling in your stomach? How it suddenly felt too full and you were almost sick?” I rested my palm on my chest and flapped my fingers up and down against my sternum. “Your heart got all fluttery and your chest got tight, like something was unfurling inside and forcing the oxygen out?”

He looked at me with an intensity that swirled about the room, a blazing energy directed at me. “I’ve gotten those feelings a lot.”

He was not referring to any childhood experience. I knew that with certainty. Suddenly struck by the upset stomach, the fluttery heart, and the tight chest, I swallowed and tore my eyes from his penetrating gaze. I pointed a shaky finger at the family tree.

“That’s how—” My voice broke. I cleared my throat and tried again. “That’s how I feel every time I learn information that might have something to do with Pop.” I was proud that my voice barely shook though my insides were trembling.

“Is that the only time?” he asked quietly.

“The only time?” I stared intently at the family tree.

“The only time you feel that special way?”

I blinked. Did he mean what I thought he meant? “What?”

Todd stared at me a minute longer. I could feel it. Then he abruptly shook his head. “Forget I said that.”

As if I could.

He took my hand. “Listen to me, Cara. Please.” His voice was now entirely different—friendly, nothing more. Lawyer to client. “I’m worried about you. You’re so intense about this search.”

I took a breath to calm myself. How could I make him understand?

“All I want to do is find the people who are bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh. I have no family now but Ward.” My throat closed and I had to swallow once more, this time against the pain. “I want more.”

“I have no family but my father,” he said quietly. “Oh, I have some distant cousins on my mother’s side that I haven’t seen in ten years, so practically speaking, all I have is my father. It doesn’t make any difference whether I want more or not.”

I stared at him, struck dumb. His loneliness was palpable, though I don’t think he realized it. My heart broke for the child he’d been and the man he’d become—alone, hurting, solitary.

“I’m so sorry.” I pulled my hand free from his and quickly began rolling the family tree. “I didn’t mean for my selfish search to make you feel bad.” I looked at him through a sheen of tears. “I never thought that I might be hurting you.”

Todd grabbed my shoulders and turned me toward him. “Cara! That’s not what I meant.”

I shook my head, staring at my lap. Ward and Marnie had warned me about possible problems as I searched, but I’d never imagined one like this, one that hurt someone I was starting to care for, someone who could never find any bone of his bone to love him.

His voice was gentle. “Cara, look at me.”

I couldn’t. I was embarrassed for my insensitivity.

He took my chin and lifted it, forcing my eyes up.