Chapter 1.
Wilma Baker stared at the man standing in her kitchen, hardly believing her eyes. After fifty years of absence, Silas Baker—her late husband Josiah's brother—stood before her, looking nothing like the Amish teenager who had walked away from their community decades ago. Gone was the traditional plain clothing, replaced with what the English called casual wear: a button-down shirt tucked into belted trousers.
Yet his eyes—those were unmistakably the same clear blue as Josiah's had been. Every time she glanced at him, her heart gave a little jump at the resemblance.
“Would you like more tea?” Wilma offered, if only to break the silence that had fallen over them. Romeo, Iris's hefty tabby cat, lay sprawled across the table, his paw stretching toward Silas.
“Thank you.” Silas pushed his cup forward. “This cat seems to have taken a liking to me.”
“That's Romeo,” Wilma explained. “He belongs to my granddaughter Iris. She was staying here for a while. She’s left some things here, so I’m hoping she’ll be back. She only lives next door.”
“Romeo is not usually so friendly with strangers,” Ada said as she settled into her chair.
“Animals have good instincts about people. He must approve of me,” Silas said with a grin.
Wilma poured the tea, her hands steady despite the tumult in her thoughts. “What made you come back here after all this time?”
“Tabitha's letter. It was quite a shock to read that someone had been here pretending to be me.” He shook his head. “I never imagined such a thing could happen.”
“Thank goodness Tabitha wrote to you,” Ada said.
“The two of you I remember well,” Silas said, nodding to both Wilma and Ada. “Though you were much younger when I left. Ada, I think you’d just married Samuel.”
Ada smiled faintly. “That was a lifetime ago. He’s passed now.”
Silas nodded slowly. “Sorry to hear it. Still, we all must go sometime.”
“Thank you. I’ll see him again one day,” Ada replied.
After a moment, Wilma asked, “Silas, what happened to make you leave all those years ago?”
“This is what I told my brother all those years ago. That I wanted to sell my portion and leave, but Josiah wouldn't buy me out because he believed the orchard should stay whole as our father intended.”
Wilma nodded slowly. This much aligned with what Josiah had told her years ago, though he'd rarely spoken of his brother after the rift.
“Josiah was right. I was young and foolish. I wanted adventure more than I wanted security. I got plenty of adventure, that's certain.” His weathered face creased with a smile.
From outside came the sound of voices. Romeo's ears pricked at the sound, and he hopped off the table, trotting toward the door. A moment later the back door swung open, and Matthew stepped inside. “Look who I found,” he said with a grin.
Iris followed him into the kitchen, a small overnight bag slung over her shoulder. Her cheeks were pink from the brisk air, and she was still smiling about something Matthew had said when her gaze landed on the man at the table.
She stopped short. “Grandma?” she asked uncertainly, eyes flicking from Wilma to the stranger. “I didn’t know you had a visitor.”
“Neither did I,” Matthew said.
Wilma rose quickly, smoothing her apron. “This is Silas Baker. Your great-uncle, Iris. Josiah's brother. The real one.”
Ada added pointedly, “Not like that Caldwell fellow.”
Iris's eyes widened. “But—how? I thought…”
“I got Tabitha's letter,” Silas said, standing as well. “I came as soon as I could after reading what was happening.” He leaned forward and shook Matthew’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Matthew.”
“And you,” Matthew gave him a nod.
“Matthew’s my nephew, and he lives here for the moment and works in the orchard,” Ada quickly explained.
Iris blinked, clearly still processing. “Tabitha wrote to you?”
“It took some time, but yes. Forwarded through the people who lived at my old house before it found me in Ohio. You’re Wilma’s granddaughter?”
“Florence’s daughter. Florence is—”
“I know Florence is Josiah’s daughter with his first wife,” Silas said.
Romeo wove himself between Iris’s ankles, purring as she bent down to stroke him. “Hi, Romeo,” she murmured distractedly, still watching Silas. “I told you I’d be back.”
“You’ve certainly got his attention,” Silas said with a small smile. “He was keeping me company while you were away.”
Iris smiled faintly and straightened. “This is all… a lot to take in.”
“I understand,” Silas said gently.
The sound of a buggy pulling up interrupted the moment. Ada quickly gathered her mending and rose from her chair. “That’ll be Adaline now. I’ll let her know the good news.”
She nodded respectfully to Silas. “It's good to see you again after all these years. We’ll talk more later.” She squeezed Wilma’s hand and left the kitchen, her quick footsteps receding across the porch.
After Ada departed, Wilma turned to her brother-in-law. “Will you stay for supper?”
“I've taken a room at the guest house in town. But I would be grateful to share a meal with you all before I head back,” Silas replied.
As dusk settled over the orchard, the household bustled with familiar rhythms: Wilma busied herself with supper, Iris unpacked her bag and helped set the table, and Matthew brought in firewood for the stove. Silas sat quietly, watching them move around the kitchen.
When they gathered at the table for a simple supper of chicken stew, freshly baked bread, and apple butter, each said a silent prayer before they began to eat.
“I’ve been wondering, what was this Caldwell fellow hoping to achieve by pretending to be me? Tabitha's letter explained he was claiming to be me, but why would someone do such a thing?”
Wilma set down her bread. “Carter—he's Florence's husband, believes it was about money.”
Matthew nodded. “Being an Englisher himself, Carter suspected something was off about Roy from the start.”
“So this Roy was trying to claim the orchard? I know his family tried to get it some years ago, but I thought that was settled.”
“We never found out exactly what he intended, but Dad said it seemed like a land grab. He wanted enough of a claim to demand money.”
Silas nodded gravely. “I did sign over my portion legally and properly when I left. I was angry, but I wasn’t dishonest. I have the papers back in Ohio. I never thought they’d be needed again. The land was Josiah’s fair and square.”
“It would be good to have them, just to be certain,” Wilma said.
The conversation lulled, and Wilma found herself noticing how much Silas looked like Josiah—the same tilt of his head when he was thinking, the same quiet way he observed the room. It was like seeing a ghost, but a ghost who had aged in parallel with her own life.
Later, after supper was finished, Iris and Matthew rose to clear the table. “We’ll wash up. You two go sit in the living room,” Iris said.
Wilma nodded gratefully and led Silas to the living area.
“It’s strange being back. The house has been extended quite a bit. So much has changed, yet so much feels the same.”
“That’s life,” Wilma said softly. “Changing and staying the same all at once.”
In the kitchen, Iris and Matthew worked side by side at the sink, speaking in hushed tones.
“He's nothing like the other Silas,” Iris whispered, glancing toward the living room to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard. “Not as... entertaining.”
“No, he’s not,” Matthew agreed, drying a plate she handed him. “The other one always had a story ready, always making everyone laugh.”
“But those were probably all fake stories. Made up to keep us distracted from his real purpose here.”
Matthew nodded thoughtfully. “Likely so. This Silas seems genuine. Quieter.”
“They look remarkably similar though,” Iris observed, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on a pot. “Not identical, but I can see why Roy thought he could pass himself off as Josiah’s brother.”
“That's what makes me believe this one is the real Silas,” Matthew said. “Did you notice how your grandmother keeps looking at him? I think she sees Josiah in him.”
Iris handed him another plate, their fingers brushing briefly. “She did the same with Roy Caldwell. It must be strange for her. Like seeing a ghost almost.”
“Yes,” Matthew murmured.
Back in the living room, Wilma asked, “What made you decide to come back now? Was it just Tabitha’s letter?”
Silas considered the question carefully. “The letter was the immediate reason, yes. But I’ve been thinking about returning for some time now. As you get older, you start thinking about roots. About where you came from.”
“And what you left behind,” Wilma added softly.
Silas nodded. “I’ve been restless my whole life, Wilma. Always looking for something I couldn’t name, always believing it was somewhere else, just over the next hill. It took getting old to realize that maybe what I was looking for was what I’d left behind.”
The honesty in his voice touched her. This was no practiced charm like Roy had possessed, but something more real.
“Josiah always hoped you would come back someday. Even after all those years of silence.”
“I wish I had come back while he was still alive. Pride is a difficult thing to overcome.”
From the kitchen came the soft murmur of the young people’s voices and the clink of dishes being dried and put away. Normal, everyday sounds that somehow made this extraordinary moment feel grounded in reality.
“How long do you plan to stay?” Wilma asked.
“I'm not sure. I've taken the room at the guest house for two weeks to start. After that...” Silas admitted, shrugging slightly. “I have no pressing reason to return to Ohio. My life there is quiet.”
“You're welcome here anytime,” Wilma said, surprising herself with how much she meant it. “Not just for meals. To visit, to see the orchard.”
“I'd like that very much.”
“Did you ever marry?”
He gave a nod. “She’s passed now, and I have two adult children who I don’t see much.”
“Do they live far away?” Wilma asked.
He shook his head, and Wilma didn’t inquire further.
When Iris and Matthew returned from the kitchen, Iris said, “The dishes are done.”
“Thank you. Silas was just telling me about his life in Ohio.”
“I'm afraid my life has been rather ordinary,” Silas said with a small smile. “Just the everyday work of building houses and living quietly.”
“Ordinary can be good. There’s nothing wrong with that,” Matthew said as he and Iris sat down with them.
Silas nodded appreciatively at the young man. “Indeed it can. I should get to the guest house before it gets too late. Don’t want to get locked out.”
“Of course,” Wilma rose as well. “Will we see you tomorrow?”
“If you'll have me,” Silas replied. “I'd like to see the orchard, if that's alright.”
“Of course. Matthew can show you around,” Wilma suggested. “He knows every tree now, every slope of the land, and everything else.”
“I'd be happy to,” Matthew agreed.
At the door, Silas paused, looking back at the three of them. “Thank you,” he said softly before he left.
“Thank you for coming back,” Wilma called after him.
As they watched him walk down the path toward a waiting buggy, Iris leaned close to her grandmother.
“Are you alright, Grandma?”
Wilma nodded slowly. “I am. It's just strange, seeing him after all these years. He looks so much like your grandfather did. Like looking at a memory come to life.”
“That was a surprise tonight. Anyway, I’ll say goodnight. I’m going to be up early tomorrow,” Matthew said.
They said goodnight to Matthew, and then Iris put her arm around her grandmother. “Let’s have a hot cup of Debbie’s rose and lavender tea.”
“Ah yes. My new favorite.”
“Dad will want to meet Silas. He’ll want to make sure he’s not fake like the last Silas.”
Wilma chuckled as they both walked to the kitchen. “Tomorrow, there’ll be many people who’ll want to meet him.”
