Emma Lapp tries to be the perfect daughter, to earn the loving embrace of her family and her Amish community in Pennsylvania. Yet she can’t quite win her mother’s smile—or her forgiveness for a transgression Emma can’t quite place . . .   Emma knows she’s a reminder of her mother’s greatest sorrow, having been born on the same day Mamm lost her beloved sister. The one bright spot has been the odd trinkets anonymously left at her aunt’s grave each year on Emma’s birthday—gifts Emma secretly hides because they upset her parents. But the day she turns 22, a locket bears a surprise that sends her on an unexpected journey . . .   Searching for answers, Emma travels to the English world and finds a kinship as intriguing as it is forbidden.  But is this newfound connection enough to leave behind the future she’d expected? The answers are as mysterious, and as devastating, as the truth that divides Emma from the only family, and the only life, she’s ever known . . .   Praise for Portrait of a Sister   “Laura Bradford is a master storyteller; this book will stay with you for a long, long time.” — New York Times bestselling author, Tasha Alexander    “A charming, well-told story of love and devotion between sisters.” —New York Times bestselling author Rachel Hauck   “Kudos to Bradford for a complex and compelling story about faith, family, and love.” — Sally Kilpatrick, author of Bless Her Heart   “A gentle and engaging tale, a lovely escape.” — USA Today bestselling author Susan McBride Laura Bradford is also the author of several bestselling mystery series, including the Amish Mysteries. She lives in Mohegan Lake, New York, with her husband and their blended brood. Visit her website at laurabradford.com. A Daughter's Truth By Laura Bradford KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP. Copyright © 2019 Laura Bradford All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4967-1648-4 CHAPTER 1 Not for the first time, Emma Lapp glanced over her shoulder, the utter silence of the sparsely graveled road at her heels deafening. On any other day, the mere thought of leaving her sisters to do her chores would fill her with such shame she'd no doubt add their tasks to her own as a way to seek atonement inside her own heart. Then again, on any other day, she would be gathering the eggs and feeding the orphan calf just like always. But today wasn't just any day. Today was her birthday. Her twenty- second, to be exact. And while she knew better than anyone else what the rest of her day would and wouldn't entail, this part — the part she'd been anticipating since her last birthday — had become her happy little secret. Lifting her coat-clad shoulders in line with her cheeks, Emma bent her head against the biting winds and hurried her steps, the anticipation for what she'd find waiting atop the sheep-tended grass eliciting a quiet squeal from between her clattering teeth. Unlike her five siblings, Emma's birthday wasn't a day with silly games and laughter. It was, instead, a day of sadness — a day when the air hung heavy across every square inch of the farm from the moment she opened her eyes until her head hit the pillow at night. And while she wanted to believe it would get better one day, twenty-one examples to the contrary told her otherwise. But this — She rounded the final bend in the road and stopped, her gaze falling on the weathered gravestones now visible just beyond the fence that ran along the edge of the Fishers' property. There, on the other side of the large oak tree, was the reason for both Mamm's on-going heartache and the unmistakable smile currently making its way across Emma's face. When she was four ... five ... six, it had been this same sight on this same day that had swirled her stomach with the kind of dread that came from knowing. Knowing Dat would stop the buggy ... Knowing she and her brother Jakob would follow behind Mamm and Dat to the second row, third gravestone from the right ... Knowing Mamm would look down, fist her hand against her trembling lips, and squeeze her eyes closed around one lone tear ... Knowing Dat would soon mutter in anger as their collective gaze fell on the year's latest offering — an offering that would be tossed into an Englisher's trash can on the way to school ... It was why, at the age of seven, when she'd asked to walk to school with her friends, Emma told them to go ahead without her, buying her time to stop at the cemetery alone, before Mamm and Dat. That day, she'd fully intended to throw the trinket away in the hopes of removing the anger, if not the sadness, from her birthday. But the moment she'd seen the miniature picnic basket nestled inside her palm, she'd known she couldn't. Instead, she'd wrapped it inside a cloth napkin and hid it inside her lunch pail. Later on, after school, she'd relocated the napkin-wrapped secret to the hollow of a pin oak near Miller's Pond. In time, she'd replaced the napkin with a dark blue drawstring bag ca