A Beautiful Arrangement

by Beth Wiseman

  He raised his eyes to Samuel’s. “And your thoughts?”

  Samuel glanced at Lydia, then turned back to Joseph. “Someone recently lectured me about forgiveness.” He cleared his throat in an exaggerated way. “I agree she should have been up-front, but obviously Beverly was afraid if you knew she had a dochder before you even got to know her, you might reject pursuing a relationship.” He ran a hand through his beard, still pacing with Mattie. “And I know how much you like her too.”

  Joseph fell against the back of the couch again, took off his hat, and put it in his lap. “I’m in love with her.” He shook his head. “But when I look back, I realize one lie just rolled into another lie, and now I feel like I’ve been riding a roller coaster of deception.” He threw his hands into the air. “I think she thought I’d be thrilled because she knows how much I like Susan. But now it seems like everything I feel was built on lies.”

  “I’ll bet Beverly is heartbroken.” Lydia hung her head before she looked back at him. “Was she crying when you left?”

  Joseph nodded. “It broke mei heart even more. I would have loved Susan just like mei own. A child wouldn’t have affected mei feelings for Beverly at all.”

  “But apparently her existence made a difference to that Chriss fellow. She might not have made a gut choice by deceiving you, but like I said, I can understand her reasoning, at least a little bit.” Lydia sighed and shook her head. “Poor Beverly.”

  “Poor Beverly?” Joseph tossed his hands up again, then slapped them to his knees. “What about poor Joseph? I just lost the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

  “By your own doing,” Lydia said in a whisper as she avoided his eyes.

  “Let this soak in overnight.” Samuel handed Mattie to Lydia, along with the cloth he’d had over his shoulder. “She burped gut.” Then he turned back to Joseph. “You might feel differently in the morning. Is the relationship worth fighting for?” He glanced at his wife, who smiled.

  “I would have fought with everything I had for this relationship. I thought I was. But that’s a big lie to tell a fellow, and then to let it go on for so long . . .” He shook his head, but then he donned his hat and stood. “I best be getting home. I’m not getting nearly enough sympathy from you people.”

  Samuel followed him to the door. “Mei friend, you had your whole life planned out with Beverly. You need to at least talk to her.”

  Joseph turned around and said goodbye to Lydia, then looked at Samuel. “Nee. I probably wasn’t gut enough for her anyway.”

  Chapter 18

  Beverly was glad it wasn’t a church Sunday. She didn’t want to face anyone. Joseph, Samuel, and Lydia were in a different district, but Beverly didn’t want to face her sister today either. Anna had warned her repeatedly that the lying would blow up in her face.

  Still in her nightgown at ten in the morning, she sipped on coffee as Susan played with a set of blocks on the floor. She’d been careful not to cry in front of her daughter so far today, but it had been a constant battle. The night before she’d sat in bed, wept for hours, and eaten half the rhubarb pie she’d baked.

  If she’d only known Joseph would be so accepting of Susan, she never would have lied to him. But Chriss had insisted he wasn’t bothered by the fact that Beverly had a baby, and then, three months into the relationship, he told her he didn’t love her enough to raise another man’s child. She never could have predicted that. And when she met Joseph, she’d just wanted a man to love her so much that Susan would be an extension of that love.

  Beverly stared at her phone, sitting next to her on the couch. She was sure Joseph had already told the Bontragers what she’d done. Wouldn’t Lydia have at least called to check on her? But maybe she planned to end their friendship just as Joseph had ended their relationship.

  Despite her best efforts, tears slid down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away. Then she went to the kitchen and returned with the rest of the rhubarb pie and a fork.

  * * *

  Lydia changed Mattie’s diaper before reminding Samuel to rub some of Beverly’s ointment on their daughter’s gums if she became fussy. Mattie was cutting another tooth, and until it pushed through the surface, it seemed to be painful for her.

  “Danki for keeping Mattie while I go see Beverly.” She picked up her small black purse and stepped to where her husband was now holding the baby on the couch.

  “I readied Chester and the buggy for you.” Samuel bounced Mattie on his knee. “I hope Beverly is okay, but”—he shook his head—“that’s a whole lot of lies she told, and about her own dochder.”

  “It’s not our place to judge. Only Gott can do that. And I don’t think Beverly would have lied if she hadn’t had such a bad experience with the man she dated before Joseph.”

  “Ya, I know.” Samuel frowned but nodded.

  “I won’t be gone too long.”

  After kissing Mattie’s forehead, she cupped her husband’s cheek and parted her lips, her mouth feather-touching his, until he reached around and put his hand on the back of her neck, pulling her closer. She lingered, savoring the intimacy they were building. Samuel moaned a little as she stood, a hungry look in his gaze, a teasing smile on his face.

  “Hurry back,” he whispered.

  Lydia grinned before she turned to leave, looking back over her shoulder at her family. She winked at Samuel, wondering if he had any idea how attractive he made her feel when he looked at her the way he just had. Desire was brewing inside them both, and with that, they were growing closer emotionally—although Lydia thought the emotional growth was probably fueling the physical part of their relationship, not the other way around. Either way, she looked forward to kissing her husband when he left for work, when he returned home, and when she settled into the nook of his arm at night. Their physical relationship was moving forward, but at a pace Lydia was comfortable with, and she appreciated her husband’s patience.

  After she had Chester settled into a steady trot, she thought about what she’d say to Beverly. She had mixed feelings about what her friend had done, but she cared for her a great deal, and she was worried about her. She’d also meant what she said to Samuel, that they weren’t in a position to judge.

  At the end of her driveway, she turned right. They lived off a road rarely traveled, but in the distance, a vehicle was stopped on the side of the road. A blue truck. And she could tell by the mess in the back of the pickup that it was Margaret’s. Her stomach clenched as she drew closer, and she was tempted to turn around. The truck was even on her side of the road.

  Lydia gently pulled back on the reins, slowing her horse so she’d have more time to decide what to do. She recalled Sarah Mae telling her Margaret wasn’t dangerous, just crazy. Lydia still wasn’t sure dangerous and crazy weren’t one and the same. But she couldn’t live her life fearful of the old woman, so she kept going.

  She picked up the horse’s pace when she passed the truck, hoping Margaret wouldn’t follow her. But as she glanced to her right, she saw that the old woman’s head was resting on the steering wheel.

  Lydia wondered if she was dead. It was an extreme thought, but whether Margaret was dead or just injured or sleeping, Lydia knew she had to stop. But she had nowhere to tether Chester, so she went a little farther up the road until she had room to pull over the buggy and tie the reins around a tree.

  She fumbled with the process a few times, then jogged back to the truck. Her insides churned with each hurried step as she speculated about what she might find. Lydia had never seen a dead person, but she wondered if that might be better than the old woman grabbing her around the neck and choking her to death. Margaret was a large woman who looked like she could take down a big man. She could easily snatch Lydia by her neck and dangle her off the ground until she couldn’t breathe. Such horrible thoughts to have, but when she reached the truck, she stayed back about ten feet.

  “Margaret, are you all right?” Lydia spoke as loudly as she could without yelling. She started to tremble w
hen the old woman slowly lifted her head and looked at her. Her dark eyes met Lydia’s, then she smiled, showing the teeth she still had. Up close, Margaret didn’t look as scary, but maybe that was because a tear trailed down her cheek.

  “I’ve been watching you, waiting for you.” Margaret reached an arm out the window of the truck.

  Lydia took a slow step toward her as saliva ran down Margaret’s chin.

  “Where’s mei boppli?” She cried harder, and Lydia considered bolting back to the buggy. Her previous outlandish thoughts were real. Margaret did want Mattie, and Lydia began to tremble all over.

  Now Margaret sobbed, and when she opened the truck door, Lydia backed up as fast as she could, but not fast enough. Margaret stepped out of the truck, ran to her, then grabbed her and yanked her so hard that they both fell to the ground.

  Lydia turned to see a red sports car whizzing down the road—a car that would have hit her if Margaret hadn’t pulled her out of the way. Lydia scurried to stand, stumbling as she got to her feet. Backing up again, she waited for Margaret to get up, but the woman stayed facedown in the grass that lined the narrow road.

  “Margaret!” Lydia yelled this time. “Margaret, get up!”

  After a few seconds, the woman still wasn’t moving, so Lydia edged closer and squatted beside her. She wasn’t sure if the horrible stench she smelled was coming from Margaret or the contents of her truck. As she jostled Margaret’s arm, the woman didn’t rise, but she turned her face toward Lydia.

  “Where have you been?” Margaret whimpered as she spoke, red lipstick smeared around the lines of her lips. She also wore a pair of dangling blue earrings, almost the same color as the Amish type of dress she was wearing, and black galoshes. Every other time Lydia had seen Margaret, she’d been barefoot.

  Lydia’s phone was down the road with her buggy. But since Margaret wasn’t getting up, not even lifting her head, Lydia knew she needed to call someone.

  “I was on mei way to your haus, you know.” Margaret spoke through tears. Lydia got a whiff of the woman’s breath and began to hold her own. “But you been avoidin’ me, so I changed mei mind and turned around. But I want mei boppli.” She moaned as if she was in pain. “Bring her to me. Bring me the boppli!”

  Lydia hurried to her feet and backed up, careful not to get too close to the road again.

  “Bring me the boppli!” Margaret yelled again as saliva continued to run down her chin.

  Lydia was shaking so badly that she didn’t move at first. But when Margaret closed her eyes and opened her mouth, Lydia feared she’d just witnessed the old woman’s death. On shaky legs, she bolted back to her buggy and fumbled for her phone, only to find it was dead. She had planned to charge it at a store on the way to Beverly’s house, but now here she was with no phone and possibly a dead homeless woman on her hands. Samuel would be angry with her for letting her phone die.

  She looked over her shoulder, and it didn’t look like Margaret had moved. Tears gathered in Lydia’s eyes as she tried to control her shaking legs and pounding pulse. Gott, what do I do? She put a hand to her forehead as Chester whinnied and kicked at the grass. She grabbed her purse, threw her phone inside it, and ran back to where Margaret was lying lifeless on the ground.

  Crying, she said, “Margaret, wake up. Please wake up.”

  The old woman opened her eyes. “I love you,” she said in a whisper as she reached for Lydia’s hand. Margaret’s hand was rough and filled with calluses, but when it went limp and Margaret closed her eyes again, Lydia grew so dizzy she hoped she wouldn’t faint.

  “Gott help me!” she yelled. She touched Margaret’s arm. “Wake up!”

  Margaret didn’t move. Lydia tried to control her crying so she could see if the old woman was breathing, but she couldn’t tell.

  When Lydia heard a car coming, she stood and waved her hands in the air, careful to stay far enough off the road.

  A tan car pulled over and screeched to a halt in front of Margaret’s truck. A small woman about Lydia’s mother’s age ran toward them.

  “I don’t know if she’s dead. I can’t tell!” Lydia cried out. “Her head was on the steering wheel and—”

  The woman ran past Lydia and knelt beside Margaret, quickly putting a finger to her neck. “She’s alive.” The lady pointed to her car. “Go get my purse and find my phone, then call nine-one-one.”

  Lydia did as the woman asked, and after she’d made the tearful call, she ran back to where the woman was. She had her hand on Margaret’s face and was clearing matted, gray hair from her cheek. Was that dried blood on the old woman’s hair?

  “I’m surprised she’s lived this long,” the Englisch woman said as she stroked Margaret’s face. “But she has a pulse.” She looked up at Lydia, who was still crying and had a hand over her mouth. “Hon, I think she’s dehydrated.” She nodded to Margaret. “See how her lips are so incredibly chapped. She looks like she’s been out in a desert. And although the bleeding has stopped, she has a deep cut on her scalp.”

  So it was blood. “I-I called nine-one-one. They’re sending an ambulance.” She paused, squeezing her eyes closed, and prayed Margaret wouldn’t die. That felt a little strange since the woman wanted to steal Lydia’s baby. But she didn’t want to witness her death, especially since Margaret had pulled Lydia out of harm’s way. Maybe she’d get the help she needed now.

  It took almost twenty minutes for the ambulance to arrive, and Lydia was still crying so hard that the Englisch lady—who had introduced herself as Sharon—led the conversation with the men, relaying what Lydia had told her, including Margaret’s name.

  After they’d loaded Margaret into the ambulance and hooked her up to a lot of wires and machines, Lydia asked one of the men if Margaret was going to die.

  “I don’t think so, but her blood pressure is really high, and she’s dehydrated and lethargic. Plus, it looks like she was hit on the head, maybe hours ago.”

  Margaret had opened her eyes a few times, and each time she’d looked from person to person, locking eyes with Lydia when she saw her.

  They informed Lydia and Sharon what hospital they were taking Margaret to and then left. Sharon put a hand on Lydia’s arm. “Sweetie, can I take you somewhere?”

  Lydia shook her head. “No, thank you.” She pointed to a distraught Chester. “I can’t leave my horse, and I live right around the corner.”

  “It’s a good thing you noticed Margaret was slumped over the steering wheel. A lot of people would have just driven by without a look. You might have saved her life. I doubt that woman has ever been to a doctor. There’s no telling what all could be wrong with her.” She shook her head. “Hers is a sad situation.”

  Lydia wiped her eyes with her hands as she thought about Margaret saving her life.

  “If she doesn’t make it for some reason,” Sharon added, “I can’t think of a single person who will miss her.” She sighed. “And that’s a shame, but it’s her own doing.”

  “Someone said she might have dementia,” Lydia said, still sniffling. “Or some kind of mental illness.”

  Sharon tucked short blond hair behind her ears. Lydia hadn’t known the woman before today, but she obviously lived nearby and knew about Margaret. “Well, that’s an entirely different situation. If that’s the case, she can’t help that. The doctors will find out. And at least the woman will get cleaned up and be given something to eat.”

  “You’re a nice lady, to stop.” Lydia took a deep breath.

  “So are you,” the woman said. “Be safe on your way home. I’ll phone the police and tell them about her truck. They’ll want to get it off the road.”

  Lydia nodded, and then Sharon returned to her car and drove away.

  Chester calmed down when Lydia rubbed his nose and talked to him in a whisper. “It’s okay, boy.” She waited until she’d gathered herself a little more, then she checked for traffic and guided Chester to turn around. She wasn’t in any condition to continue her trip to Beverly’s, and all she w
anted to do was hold Mattie.

  By the time she pulled into her driveway, she was crying again. She ran across the yard, then up the porch steps, and flung the screen door wide. “Samuel!” she called when she didn’t see him or Mattie.

  Samuel came out of Mattie’s bedroom, his eyes wide. “What’s wrong?”

  Lydia rushed to her daughter’s crib and put a hand on Mattie’s tummy. Then she closed her eyes and thanked God that her family was okay.

  Samuel came up behind her. “What’s wrong?” he asked again, this time in a whisper.

  They returned to the living room and sat down on the couch. Lydia tearfully told him what happened. “I thought she died in front of me.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “But she was alive, and she made no sense. She kept telling me to give her the boppli, which made me think she wanted to steal Mattie. Especially when she said she’d been watching me.” She shivered at the recollection. “But she also told me she loves me. And, Samuel . . .” Covering her face with her hands, she sobbed, then looked back at him. “I was so scared and nervous, but if Margaret hadn’t lunged at me and pulled me out of the road, that car would have hit me. She saved mei life.”

  Samuel pulled her into his arms. “Thank Gott you’re okay, and I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.”

  She eased away from him and stared into his eyes. “Please, please don’t argue with me about this. I want to go to the hospital. I have to know she’s all right.”

  Samuel nodded as he pushed loose tendrils of hair away from her face, then kissed her tenderly. “I’ll call for a driver. And I’ll come with you.”

  Lydia wasn’t sure she’d ever loved him more than at that very moment, and she told him so.

  * * *

  By the time they arrived at the hospital, Lydia’s tears had dried, but her heart was still pounding. She couldn’t shake the image of Margaret telling her she loved her but also demanding Lydia give her a baby. None of it made sense.