by Marta Perry
A moment later she was chiding herself for her unkind thought. Simon might have been frowning about something else entirely. The good Lord knew he’d plenty to worry about in his circumstances.
Bending over the poster, she was able to study him, thinking about how he’d changed from the boy she remembered. Not in coloring. His hair was still the deep brown of the buckeyes they used to find and shine, with dark brown eyes to match. Simon had always been quiet and serious—introverted, although she hadn’t known the word at the time. He was the oldest, and took on all the responsibility that went with being the oldest son in a large Amish family.
Her thoughts flickered to her own brother. Josiah had certainly been very aware of what was expected of him, but no one could call him introverted. Or quiet. He was always only too likely to yell if he caught any of his younger siblings doing something he didn’t think they should.
Maybe the truth was that Simon’s early tendencies had just been intensified by grief and the responsibility for a motherless child. Those had carved the lines in his face that hadn’t been there before and given his eyes the look of one carrying too heavy a burden.
Elizabeth looked up from the discussion and gestured to her, so Lydia seized the coffeepot and headed to their table. “More coffee? Hot chocolate?”
Enos slid his mug over for a refill. “Looks like the snow’s about done. You shouldn’t have any trouble getting home.”
“That’s good.” She hadn’t even noticed, but she looked now and saw that the snow on the street had already turned to wet slush.
“We were just talking about getting Simon’s things into the storeroom, Lyddy. So if he comes when I’m upstairs, you’ll know what to do. And we’d best find the key for that door so we can keep it locked.”
Lydia nodded. “I know just where it is, but maybe I should have a duplicate made, so Simon can have his own.”
“Whatever you think.” Elizabeth sank back in the chair, and Lydia realized she was tiring. It had been this way ever since she was sick. She’d be talking and working like her old self, and then suddenly she’d be exhausted and need to lie down.
“I’ll take care of it.” Lydia glanced at Enos to see if he’d noticed, but he seemed oblivious, as did Simon. She paused behind Elizabeth’s chair. “Isn’t it about time for your rest?”
Elizabeth reached up to pat her hand. “In a minute. Why don’t you see if there’s something Becky can do? She’s tired of listening to our talk.”
That was like Elizabeth, ignoring her own difficulties to pay attention to someone else’s. And she was right. Becky struck her as too well-behaved to wiggle, but she did look up hopefully at the suggestion.
“Sure thing.” She held out her hand to the little girl again. “How about helping me make a poster?”
Becky shot a look at her father, maybe asking permission, and then she slid down and grasped her hand. Lydia took her to the counter where she’d been working on the list of specials and provided her with some colored pencils.
“Suppose you help me put some flowers around the edges so it will look like spring? And then I’ll do the lettering in the middle. Okay?”
Becky looked carefully at the tulip Lydia was drawing, and then she nodded. Still without speaking, she started making a blue flower.
Was she always this quiet? With her hair so pale it was nearly white and her very light skin color, she resembled her mother the way Lydia remembered her. Every child was close to her mother, of course, and their resemblance might have made the bond even tighter. Perhaps she had inherited her father’s quiet disposition, too, but even so, this seemed extreme.
“I like that flower. It’s really pretty—just the color of your eyes.”
That brought a startled look to Becky’s face. “Really?” she said, as if she’d never thought of it.
“For sure. Your mammi had those bright blue eyes, too, I remember.”
Abruptly she was aware of having said the wrong thing. The tiny face closed again. Becky slid down from the stool she was perched on and went silently back to her father. And although Becky didn’t speak, she seemed to communicate with her father, because the look Simon shot at Lydia made her feel about six inches high.
If she could explain…
But she suspected that would only make matters worse. Probably she shouldn’t have mentioned Becky’s mother, but how would she know that? In any event, she didn’t see Simon regarding her as anything but trouble. Probably the best thing she could do was to avoid both father and daughter as completely as possible, but that wasn’t going to be easy.
CHAPTER TWO
Determined to avoid any further misunderstandings with Simon, Lydia kept her mind on her work. Unfortunately, the café wasn’t as busy as normal. The snow had discouraged shoppers, and now the melting slush looked equally messy underfoot. When she found herself starting back to the same table for the fourth time, she decided that pretending to be busy was harder work than actually being busy.
Another glance at Elizabeth left her feeling even more concerned. Elizabeth seemed to be staying upright through sheer force of will, and her gaze had become glassy with fatigue. Couldn’t either of the men see it? Perhaps she should try again to persuade her…
A tug at her skirt interrupted Lydia’s train of thought. Becky stood next to her, looking from her to the counter where the poster still lay unfinished. The sight of that tiny heart-shaped face struck her heart and melted it even faster than the sun melted the slush.
“Do you think we should finish the poster?” she asked.
Becky’s nod was accompanied by a slight smile.
“Let’s do it, then.” She pulled a chair over so Becky could kneel on it next to the counter. “There, that should make it easier. Which color do you want next?”
Becky studied the colored pencils for a moment. Then her small finger pointed to the yellow one.
“Yellow it is,” Lydia said. She put the pencil in the child’s hand. “Yellow’s a pretty color, isn’t it? It reminds me that the daffodils will be coming out soon. Your grossmammi has them planted along the front of the porch, I know.”
“She does?”
It was the closest Becky had come to continuing a conversation, and Lydia was delighted. “You ask her to show you where the daffodils are. I think you might find the green spears of the plants out of the ground already. You can check how they’re growing, ain’t so?”
Becky just nodded, but it was a companionable nod, as if they didn’t need words between them.
Maybe Becky resembled her mother in looks, but certainly not in personality. From what she remembered of Rebecca, she had been always poised and in control of herself. Not outgoing, but friendly. Becky clearly took after her father in personality. She had the same grave, questioning attitude that Lydia remembered on Simon’s face whenever he was confronted by something new. Funny how clear that image was in her mind.
Picking up a purple pencil, she added a row of the Dutch irises that fringed the creek near the old willow tree. But her mind was still busy with little Becky. How was such a shy, reserved child getting along in the crowded Fisher household? Enos and Mary had four children younger than Simon, and his next brother was married and lived there with his wife and baby. And all of them were cheerful, talkative and a bit overwhelming, she’d think, for Becky.
“I have to see if anyone wants more coffee,” she told Becky. “Do you want to stay here until I get back?”
Becky looked from her to the poster, which had sprouted a whole row of what were probably meant to be daffodils. “Stay here,” she said firmly.
“Gut.” Lydia nodded, satisfied that Becky was feeling more at ease here. Picking up the coffeepot, she moved from table to table, refilling cups.
She paused next to where Elizabeth sat with Simon and his father. She couldn’t help it. She’d have to say something, even if sh
e annoyed Elizabeth.
But even as she thought it, she caught Simon’s eyes, and a message seemed to pass between them. He glanced toward his aunt and frowned slightly, clearly seeing what Lydia did.
“Becky, come along. And thank Lydia for letting you help her.”
The child did so reluctantly, with a longing look at the poster, and gave Lydia a slight nod and a soft denke.
Nudging his daad’s elbow, Simon got up.
“Time for us to be moving along,” he said. “And time for Aunt Bess to have a rest, ain’t so?”
“Ach, all of you fuss over me too much,” Elizabeth said, but it was clear that fatigue dragged at her, and she tacitly admitted it, getting up slowly.
“Some people are worth fussing over,” he replied, giving her a hug, his face softening so that he resembled the boy he’d been before sorrow had driven those lines of pain into his face. “Lyddy, you make sure she rests, yah?”
The old nickname, coupled with the reminder of the boy he once was, disoriented Lydia for a moment. Telling herself not to be so foolish, she nodded.
“I’ll see to it. And I’ll get Becky’s coat.” She’d hung it in the hallway to dry, so she hurried to take it from the peg and help Becky to put it on. The little girl paused to study the poster for a moment.
“It looks fine,” Lydia assured her. “Next time you come, you’ll see it right up there on the wall for everyone to look at.”
Simon moved next to his daughter, helping her to fasten her coat and wrap a muffler securely around her neck. Meanwhile, Lydia gathered up a handful of colored pencils, making sure to include the yellow one, and put them in a bag.
She knelt next to Becky, very aware of Simon’s strong figure standing next to her. “Here are some colored pencils for you to take home.”
Becky’s eyes grew wide, making her look even more like her mother. “For me?” she whispered.
“For you,” Lydia said, touched. “Will you draw some more flowers?”
The child nodded, holding them close. “Yah, I will.” Turning, she showed them to her daadi.
Simon cupped his daughter’s face with his large hand, his smile very tender. “You’ll make lots of them, ain’t so?”
He turned the smile on Lydia then, and her heart seemed to grow warm in her chest. “Denke, Lyddy.”
Usually the use of the nickname called forth a correction. She was Lydia now. Not a child with a childish name. But it didn’t seem to matter at all what Simon called her, not when he looked at her with the lines of pain eased in his face.
She nodded, unable to find any words.
They headed for the door, and Lydia told herself firmly that she wouldn’t stand there and watch them go. She put her arm around Elizabeth’s waist.
“Rest time for you,” she said, in a tone that didn’t allow for argument. “Komm.”
“You’re a gut girl, Lyddy,” Elizabeth murmured, patting her arm. “Gut for Simon and Becky, too, I see.”
Firmly telling herself that she would not blush, she led Elizabeth toward the stairs.
* * *
Despite the slush that lingered, the buggy moved smoothly along the two-lane road as Simon drove home.
“Typical late March snow,” Daad commented. “Feel the warmth of the sun. The road will be dry by the time Lyddy heads home.”
Simon nodded. Maybe this was a good time to get some questions answered. “I didn’t realize Lydia was so close to Aunt Bess.”
“Ach, yah, she’s been as gut as a granddaughter to her. I don’t know what we’d have done without her a couple of months back when Aunt Bess was so sick. She wouldn’t listen to anybody, and wouldn’t hear of us coming to stay, but Lyddy managed everything.”
That was the impression he’d gotten from the conversation, and at one level it still seemed surprising to him. “I guess little Lyddy has grown up and left mischief behind.”
Daad chuckled. “I wouldn’t say that, exactly. She still likes to laugh, and she’ll play with the young ones like she’s their age. Well, you saw how she made friends with our little Becky.”
“Yah, she did.” And it looked as if he’d have to refine his opinion of Lydia a bit. She might have been flirty with the customers, but she’d been good with Becky as well as taking care of Aunt Bess. It was quite a mixture.
Thinking of Becky, he glanced at the back seat. Becky had the bag open, but with her usual caution, she hadn’t taken the pencils out in the buggy. But she’d put her hand in to finger them, smiling and relaxed. Yah, whatever her flaws, Lydia had been good with Becky. Still, that didn’t mean he should encourage their relationship. Without Rebecca to help him, he had to be extra careful in raising their daughter.
When he turned into the farm lane, he naturally looked toward the site they’d decided on for his house and shop. Daad followed his gaze, shaking his head.
“All this wet isn’t going to help in getting your house done, ain’t so? We’ll not get the foundation dug until it dries out, that’s certain sure.”
Simon nodded, fighting the depression that swept over him. His longing to have a place of their own had risen to a point where he could hardly think of anything else. He’d get out there with a shovel by himself if he thought it would do any good.
“Don’t fret.” Daad seemed to read his thoughts, and he put his hand on Simon’s shoulder for a brief moment. “Once it’s started, it will go up fast. And you know we love having you and little Becky living with us as long as you want.”
“Denke,” he murmured. He could hardly say that he and Becky were eager to get out, not when everyone was so happy that they were there.
But it was true. If he couldn’t go back to the life he’d had with Rebecca, then he’d settle for just the two of them—him and Becky—in a home of their own.
Rebecca. His heart ached at the thought of going on without her beside him. It had been a great sorrow to both of them that there had been no more babies after Becky, but they had adjusted. The three of them had been contented, happy in their own home. Now he wanted, as best he could, to provide that again for Becky.
Daad meant it when he said they were welcome to live with them, but he knew, and he thought Daad was beginning to realize, that it wouldn’t do.
When they walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, he was reminded all over again why it wouldn’t do. The rest of the family had started lunch, and everyone seemed to be talking at once. They were hustled to the table with even more laughter and chatter, and Becky seemed to shrink against him.
“Denke.” He resisted his brother Thomas’s efforts to get Becky to sit between him and Sarah, his twin. “I think Becky wants to stay next to me for now.”
“Sure thing.” Thomas gave Becky a big smile. “Maybe next time.” He was trying to understand, Simon thought, but it was obvious that he didn’t. The entire family was outgoing, cheerful and noisy. He had always been the odd one, and he wondered sometimes where it had come from.
Rebecca had understood, and their home had been a haven of peace. Then the accident had robbed them—his mind cringed away from that. He couldn’t think about it. He wouldn’t.
Mammi leaned over to talk softly to Becky, and Daad began telling the story of finding Lyddy’s buggy off the road. The twins, at fourteen eager to find humor in every mishap, promptly started talking about how they’d tease Lydia.
“You’d best be careful,” Simon put in. “Or I might just have to tell her about the time you forgot to buckle the harness and the gelding trotted off without you and the buggy.”
Thomas flushed, but he was laughing, always ready to take a good joke on himself. “No fair. I wasn’t old enough to remember any of your mistakes.”
“I am.” His brother Adam looked up from the baby daughter he was bouncing on his knee. “Let’s see what I can think of.”
“If you don’t mind ho
w hard you’re bouncing, the boppli is going to spit up her lunch all over you.” Adam’s wife, Anna Mae, swooped down on him and rescued her small daughter. “Komm, now. Get finished and back to work so Simon and Becky can have their lunch in peace.”
Peace. That was what Becky needed. He’d grown up in this house, with all his noisy younger siblings, and he’d survived all right. Why not? It had been that way ever since he could remember.
But Becky hadn’t. Instead she’d been plunged into it while still in the midst of her grief over losing her mother. Naturally, she was finding it hard to cope.
They meant well. He couldn’t doubt that. The twins were old enough to feel responsible for their little niece, and they wanted to love her and help her. It wasn’t their fault that Becky was so easily overwhelmed. He couldn’t ask them to change their ways in their own home. If only he and Becky had someplace else to stay. Then Becky could get acquainted with them more gradually, learning to join in the fun, he hoped.
But finding another place to stay was impossible. Mammi had taken it hard enough when she’d learned he planned to build a house of his own for himself and Becky. Oh, she’d never dream of saying so, but he knew she longed to have them both right here under her wing. The idea that they’d stay someplace other than the family home until their place was ready—well, she couldn’t possibly understand, and she’d be hurt.
Somehow they had to make it through this. His gaze rested on Becky. Somehow.
* * *
By the time the coffee shop closed at four, Lydia had already done most of the cleanup. Once the snow had melted from the sidewalks, she was briefly busy again, but that had ebbed as the afternoon wore on. Now she could set off for home.
Elizabeth was coming out of the storeroom Lydia had emptied for Simon’s belongings. Lydia glanced inside but saw nothing different. “Is something wrong?”
“Ach, no.” Elizabeth patted her cheek. “You go on home now, Lyddy. I’ll lock up.”
