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truth.
    Edgar watched him, a knowing look narrowing his gaze. “Yer not eating much.”
    “Actually, I’m not too hungry. My eyes must be bigger than my stomach.”
    The waitress approached again. “Would you like me to box that up,
ja
?”
    Gideon nodded. If he didn’t eat it later, Caleb would. She returned a few minutes
     later with a paper plate covered with foil.
    “Best get back to the cabin.” Gideon rose. “Caleb will be wondering on me.”
    Edgar waved his good-bye, and Gideon could feel the older man’s eyes on him as he
     left.
    Did Edgar have any idea the young boy was him?

CHAPTER
5
    L ydia sat next to Dat as they drove the buggy the short mile to the neighbor’s house
     where the funeral would be held. Mem and Dat’s house was small, and when Amish friends
     offered up their place for the funeral, Dat had accepted. It made her feel good that
     even though Mem and Dat had only been living in West Kootenai for three years, most
     of the town would show up. She and Dat could have walked, but they needed their buggy
     to drive to the cemetery after the funeral.
    Lydia pressed her sweaty palms flat on her thighs and smoothed the small wrinkles
     in her black dress. It was the plainest, simplest dress she could find, but it was
     not an Amish dress and cape. She’d pinned up her hair, but she had no
kapp
on her head. Guilt echoed shallowly in her chest. She should be thinking most about
     her mother, about her loss, but what weighed heaviest on her mind was walking into
     the Sommer house and noting everyone’s eyes on her. She imagined their thoughts:
The
Englisch
daughter has come now, has she? Too bad her mother had to live her last years with
     such shame
.
    Lydia took in a long, slow breath and told herself to suck it up. It didn’t matter
     what they thought. She’d made the rightchoice. She had a great career and a good life in Seattle. She had friendships with
     her coworkers and knew a couple of neighbors in her apartment complex too. It didn’t
     matter that she didn’t have a fine and fancy
Englisch
house. She liked her place decorated simply. It was easier to clean. It gave her
     more time for reading and editing.
    Still, as the metal buggy wheels rolled over the dirt road, it felt as if the gravel
     scraped her heart. They were right, in a way. She could have made a different choice.
     She could have been there during Mem’s last days, last years.
    The line of buggies came from both directions. Other folks walked, their heads low
     and their pace slow as if heavy hearts weighed them down. She supposed they were sadder
     for Dat than for Mem. Mem was a good woman—no doubt ushered through heaven’s gates—but
     Dat would be living without the wife he’d shared his life with for forty years. Living
     alone, without a daughter to depend on.
    One man glanced up as they passed on the narrow dirt road, and she could almost read
     his thoughts in his gaze:
what old man deserves this?
    She quickly looked away and glanced at the bunch of wildflowers laid on newspaper
     on the seat between her and her dat. Bringing flowers to a funeral was an
Englisch
tradition, but she needed some excuse for getting out of the house this morning.
     Her dat’s low sobs from the bedroom that he now slept in alone broke her heart.
    If the rush-hour traffic had moved this slow in Seattle she’d have been tapping her
     fingers on the dash, but in this place it seemed normal—right even—that the idyllic
     scenery rolled by like a slow-motion film.
    The mare moved at a steady pace, and the sun through the trees created a patterned
     mosaic on the road. Sitting nextto Dat in the buggy brought a thousand memories. Growing up she’d never thought she’d
     leave, but after Lydia discovered the truth, she knew she couldn’t stay, and she’d
     bought a ticket to a city as far west as she could go. Being a face in the crowd meant
     no one would ask questions. No one would ever know who she really was.
    The thing