Portrait of a Sister Read online

  Also by Laura Bradford

  And Death Goes To

  30 Second Death

  Death in Advertising

  PORTRAIT of A SISTER

  LAURA BRADFORD

  KENSINGTON BOOKS

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  PORTRAIT OF A SISTER

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2018 by Laura Bradford

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  BOUQUET Reg. U.S. Pat & TM Off.

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4967-1647-7

  eISBN-10: 1-4967-1647-7

  First Kensington Electronic Edition: July 2018

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-1646-0

  ISBN-10: 1-4967-1646-9

  To my readers, both old and new.

  I’m glad you’re here.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Getting to tell Katie’s tale was a true labor of love for me. Her story grew inside my heart until I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

  When I shared my idea with my agent, Jessica Faust, she, too, wanted to know more about Katie. Her belief in my story and my ability to tell it gave me the added boost I needed. So a huge thank-you goes out to Jessica for that.

  I also want to thank my editor, Esi Sogah, who saw Katie’s story both in its infancy and at completion and liked what she saw.

  Dear Readers,

  I’ve always held a fascination for the Amish and their way of life. Some of that, I suppose, stems from my love of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books when I was young. For grown-up me, the Amish live very much the way the Ingallses lived in the mid to late 1800s, yet they do it in a modern-day world. As a person who is curious by nature, that intrigues me. As a person who happens to be a writer, that same intrigue has a way of leading me in all sorts of different directions.

  With each new book I write about the Amish, I spend days researching in the heart of Lancaster County’s Amish country, learning everything I can about their lives. Usually, within a few hours, I have the seed I need for my next story. By the time I get back home, I have the makings of a plot fleshed out in my head.

  Portrait of a Sister came about a little differently. In my Amish Mystery series, I have a police detective who was former Amish. He left after baptism, thereby losing all ties to his childhood family. While that background has given me great material to work with for that particular series, it’s also a part of the Amish culture that’s really tugged at my heartstrings and given me pause. With Portrait of a Sister, I gave myself permission to explore that pre/post-baptism decision through the eyes of twins; Hannah, who chose to leave before baptism, and Katie, who never considered leaving . . . Until now.

  For Hannah, the choice was really just about geography and lifestyle.

  For Katie, that same choice will mean cutting ties to everyone and everything she’s ever known.

  Hard to imagine, isn’t it?

  After you’ve read Portrait of a Sister, take a look at some of the book club questions I’ve included in the back. Many of them were things I found myself pondering as Katie took me along on her journey.

  Happy reading!

  Laura

  Chapter 1

  For the second time in her life, Katie Beiler prayed for God to change His mind, to make His will reflect hers. But the click of her parents’ bedroom door, followed by her dat’s sad eyes and pasty complexion, told her it wasn’t to be.

  “It is time, Katie.”

  Gathering the sides of her pale blue dress in her hands, she made herself part company with the wooden chair that had been both her post and her refuge over the past twenty-four hours and rise onto shaky legs. “I will get the children.”

  “No,” he said, firmly.

  Her answering gasp echoed against the walls of the hallway as she reached toward him, her fingers brushing against the suspenders she’d mended during the night. “She-she’s gone? Already?”

  “No, Katie. But God will welcome her soon. It is His will.”

  “His will is wrong!” she hissed through clenched teeth only to bow her head in shame just as quickly. “I-I’m sorry, Dat. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Bracing herself, she lifted her watery gaze from the toes of her black lace-up boots to the amber-flecked brown eyes that matched her own. For a moment, Dat said nothing, the shock on his face the only real indication he’d heard her at all. Eventually though, he spoke, grief winning out over anger. “She has asked to speak to you alone. Go now, child, before it is too late.”

  Before it is too late . . .

  Her thoughts followed her father’s heavy footfalls down the stairs and then skipped ahead to the five young faces she’d tried desperately to shield from reality the past few months. Two years her junior, Samuel would be devastated, of course, but he would cover his hurt working in the fields with Dat. Jakob, at fourteen, would take his cue from Samuel. Mary and Sadie would—

  “Katie?”

  The weakened rasp propelled her forward and through the partially open doorway, her heart both dreading and craving what was on the other side. More than anything, she wanted a miracle to happen, but short of that, she’d be a fool to waste away whatever time they had left.

  “I’m here, Mamm.” She stopped just inside the door and willed her eyes to adjust to the darkened room. “Can I get you something? Another blanket, perhaps? A glass of water?”

  “You can open the shade and let the sunlight in.”

  “Of course.” Crossing the room, Katie gave the dark green shade a quick tug and then watched as it rose upward to provide an uninhibited view of the fields her dat and brothers worked each and every day. She allowed herself a moment to breathe in the answering sunlight before turning back to the nearly unrecognizable shell that was her mother. “Is that better?”

  “Yah.” Her mother patted the edge of the quilt-topped bed, her pale blue eyes studying Katie closely. “Come. Sit. There are things I
want to say. Before it is too late.”

  “Shhh,” Katie scolded. “Do not talk like that. Please.”

  “The dress I am to be buried in is in my chest. It is what I wore when I married your dat.”

  She stopped a few inches shy of the bed and cast her eyes down at the wood plank floor. “Mamm, please. I—”

  “It is God’s will, Katie.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to lash out at those words the way she had in the hallway with Dat, but she refrained. To see the same shock on Mamm’s face would be unimaginable.

  “Katie, I need you to be strong for your brothers and sisters. They will need you more than ever in the days and weeks ahead.”

  Sinking onto the bed, Katie covered her mother’s cold hand with her own and gave it a gentle squeeze. She tried to speak, to offer the reassurance her mother needed, but the expanding lump in her throat made it impossible to speak.

  “In another year or so, Annie will be three and Mary will be old enough to look after both her and Sadie on her own. When she is, you are to live your life, Katie. With Abram. He is a good man. Like your dat. It is my hope that your life together will make you smile again.”

  “I smile,” Katie protested.

  “Not as you once did.”

  She felt her mother’s thumb encircling her hand and choked back a sob. “I have tried my best to keep this from the little ones. If I have failed, I am sorry . . .”

  “You have done beautifully these past few months, Katie. Dat has told me so. But your smile dulled long before I got sick.”

  Slipping her arm back, Katie pushed off the bed and wandered over to the window. “I painted a new milk can last night while you slept. It is of the pond in summer, the way it was before the climbing tree fell down in that storm a few years ago.” She rested her forehead against the glass pane and watched as her dat entered the fields to summon Samuel and Jakob for one final goodbye. “I will always remember the way you’d help boost me onto that first branch when I was no bigger than Sadie is now. I was so frightened that first time.”

  “That is because I boosted you first. When Hannah went first and reached down for your hand, you were not afraid.”

  Just like that, the tears she’d managed to keep to herself in her mother’s presence began their descent down her cheeks. “I do not want you to go, Mamm. I-I need you . . .”

  “You need only the Lord, Katie, you know that.”

  She bowed her head in shame. “You are right, Mamm. I know I should not be afraid.”

  But I am, she wanted to add. Horribly, desperately afraid . . .

  “Do not forget what the apostle Paul said, Katie. To fulfill the law of Christ, brethren must bear one another’s burdens. There will be many hands ready to help you, Dat, and the children.”

  The children . . .

  She lifted her gaze to the window again in time to see Dat heading back toward the house flanked by Samuel on one side and Jakob on the other. Their brimmed hats made it so she couldn’t see her brothers’ faces, but her mind could fill in the blanks.

  Samuel would be stoic like their father—any emotion offset by his steadfast belief that Mamm’s passing was God’s will. He would mourn her, of course, but there would be work to be done.

  Jakob would surely mimic Samuel, but she knew that in moments alone, while feeding the calves or milking the cows, the younger boy would grieve the woman he still looked to for hugs when he thought no one else was looking.

  “I will hug Jakob for you,” Katie whispered. “Until he does not need it anymore.”

  “Thank you, Katie.”

  She heard the faint sound of the screen door downstairs as it banged closed behind her father and brothers. If Dat had told Mary first, the thirteen-year-old would no doubt have Sadie and the baby ready and waiting for the family’s final moments together. If he hadn’t, Katie could imagine her sister looking up from the chair in which she was giving Annie her morning bottle, wondering if she was late in preparing a meal. The absence of footsteps on the stairs told her it was the latter.

  A noticeable change in her mother’s breath made her turn and scurry back to the bed. “Mamm?”

  “It is almost time, Katie.”

  She looked down at her mother, at the gaunt face and the dark shadows that encircled hesitant eyes. “Do not worry, Mamm. Please. I will take care of them all—Samuel, Jakob, Mary, Sadie, Annie, and Dat. I promise.”

  “That is not all that I worry about.”

  Swooping down to her knees, she gathered her mother’s cold hands inside her own and tried to warm them with her breath. “There is nothing for you to worry about, Mamm.”

  “There is you, Katie.”

  She drew back. “Me?”

  “Yah.”

  “But—”

  “I want you to be . . . happy . . . again. The way you were when—”

  A succession of footsteps on the staircase cut her mother’s sentence short and brought Katie back to her feet. She’d had her time with Mamm. To take more would be selfish. “The others are coming to say goodbye.” Bending over, she held her lips to her mother’s forehead while she worked to steady her own voice. “I love you, Mamm.”

  “I love you, Katie.”

  The footsteps on the other side of the door grew louder as they crested the top of the stairs and headed in their direction. Suddenly, it was as if she were being hoisted into that old climbing tree all over again. And just as she’d been when she was four, she was terrified—terrified at the notion of leaving her mother’s arms behind.

  “They’re here, Mamm,” she whispered. “I’ll let them in.”

  Her mother’s answering nod was slow and labored, but the sudden grip on Katie’s arm was anything but. “Tell her, Katie. Tell . . . Hannah . . . I . . . love . . . her.”

  Chapter 2

  She didn’t need the sound of Sadie’s bare feet running across the wooden floor, or Mary’s audible inhale from somewhere over her left shoulder, to know Hannah had arrived. No, she could feel it just as surely as she could the fizz of the soapsuds on her hands.

  Dropping the dish back into the sink, Katie backed away from the counter and slowly turned. Before she could blink, Hannah was across the room, pulling her in for a hug so tight she wasn’t sure she’d ever breathe again.

  “Oh, Katie, I-I can’t believe this—I can’t believe Mamm is . . . gone. I thought she was going to beat this. I really, really did.”

  Keenly aware of the two extra sets of ears in the room, Katie merely shook her head, her cheek brushing briefly against Hannah’s tear-soaked counterpart.

  “Was it . . .” Hannah’s words traded places with a hard swallow before returning cloaked in a tortured whisper. “Was it awful, Katie?”

  “When it was time, Mamm just closed her eyes.” It wasn’t necessarily an all-inclusive portrayal, but it was close enough. Still, Katie sent up a silent prayer for forgiveness and then slowly stepped back, deliberately disengaging herself from the grief she was desperate to hold at bay. “Let me take a look at—”

  The sentence fell away as she stared into the face that was both identical to and nothing like the one she glimpsed in the reflection of her bedroom window each morning. Yes, the shape of the eyes was still the same, as were the amber flecks that lightened their brown hue, but the lashes that bordered them were suddenly longer, thicker, and infinitely darker.

  “Hannah,” she said, dropping her voice to a near whisper so as not to be overheard by the younger girls. “You-you’re wearing makeup.”

  “Just a little mascara is all. And some blush.” Hannah touched her fingertips to her cheeks as a small, shaky smile momentarily chased the sadness from her pale pink lips. “It took a little getting used to, but I like it. It makes me feel . . . improper.”

  “Hannah!”

  “What? It does.”

  Unsure of what to say or even what to think, Katie followed her younger siblings’ uncertain glances right back to Hannah and the dress she hadn’t reall
y noticed until that moment—a dress that followed the curves of her twin sister’s body like a second pair of skin. She wanted to look away, to put the image into the same invisible box where she put all the English ways she didn’t understand, but she couldn’t. Not this time, anyway.

  Hannah looked . . . pretty. In a grown-up, sophisticated sort of way. Like those faces that smiled out at Katie from the checkout aisle of the English grocery store. Only this time, instead of trying to imagine what she, herself, might look like if she wore those kinds of clothes or let her own soft brown hair flow across her shoulders in pretty waves, she knew.

  “Katie?”

  The sound of her name on her little sister’s tongue pulled her from her fog and forced her back to the only world that mattered at that moment. “Yes, Mary?”

  “I have gathered two buckets of potatoes. Do you think that will be enough?”

  “I think that will be fine, Mary.” Katie did a quick mental count of the people she knew would come to Mamm’s funeral while simultaneously trying to figure out the food they’d need to feed them. It was a daunting task on one hand, yet, at the same time, she welcomed the opportunity to focus on something other than the pain in her heart. “Would you and Sadie run next door to the Hochstetler’s farm and check on the number of bread loaves Martha is making?”

  “Yes, Katie.”

  Hannah crossed the kitchen, reaching for Sadie’s small hand as she did. “Would you like me to go with you?”

  Sadie’s eyes, round and uncertain, moved between Mary and Hannah, with Mary finally breaking the silence via a slight shake of her kapp-covered head. “No. Thank you. We are fine.”