by Marta Perry
Lydia took a closer look at her elderly employer. The fatigue seemed to be hanging on for a long time. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” Elizabeth made shooing motions. “Go. And thank you for being so sweet with little Becky. That poor child needs all the love and kindness she can get.”
Lydia nodded, her eyes stinging at the thought of losing a mother so young. “If I know the Fisher family, she’ll be overwhelmed by it.”
“Yah.” Elizabeth looked thoughtful. “Maybe…well, never mind. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As she drove out of town, Lydia was still wondering what had been on Elizabeth’s mind. Perhaps she was thinking, as Lydia herself was, that a shy child like Becky needed careful handling. Simon, seeming consumed by his own grief, might not be the best judge of how exactly to give her that.
It wasn’t her business, she told herself firmly. Except in so far as they were neighbors and part of the church family, anyway. If she could do something for them, she would, but Simon hadn’t looked as if he would welcome her interference.
The day’s unexpected snow had melted from the road as if it had never been. Only a rut in the side of the road was left to show where she’d slid off, and already the sun felt warm. Small patches of bright green showed here and there—onion grass, she supposed. That was early spring in central Pennsylvania. Or late winter. Unpredictable, but even under the snow, spring was waiting.
When she walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, Mammi looked pleased.
“Just in time. I have some laundry to go over to the daadi haus for your grossmammi. You can take it.”
“Yah, sure.” Lydia hung up her bonnet and reached for the basket, but her brother Josiah got there first.
“Not until we hear all about it,” he said, teasing.
“All about what?” She tried to look innocent, knowing she’d have to endure some kidding about her misadventure.
“The accident? You know. Going right off the road and needing Enos to rescue you?”
“Was ist letz?” Mammi was instantly alert. Apparently, Josiah hadn’t blabbed to her.
“Nothing, Mammi. The right-side wheels slid off the road a little when that snow hit. I’d have persuaded Dolly to pull back on even if Enos hadn’t come along.”
“So you say.” Josiah wasn’t done teasing.
Daad frowned, setting down the coffee mug that was always in his hand when he wasn’t working. “How did you come to do that, daughter? Dolly is usually sure-footed.”
“It wasn’t Dolly’s fault. A car came up behind us way too fast, shoving us right off the edge.”
Mammi shivered a little, touching Lydia’s shoulder as if to make sure she was still there. “Those cars go too fast.”
“Especially when it’s snowing,” Josiah added, handing her the basket.
“Give me a horse every time,” Daad said. “Animals have instincts. Cars don’t.” He picked up his coffee mug, apparently feeling he’d said it all.
“Right.” Lydia seized the basket and headed toward the daadi haus before anyone could mention Simon and start asking questions.
Of course, when she reached the daadi haus, she’d have to avoid Grossmammi’s sharp eyes, and no one ever succeeded in doing that. She and her cousins used to think her grandmother could see right through them, and Lydia still wasn’t sure about that.
Sure enough, Grossmammi took one look at her and gestured to a chair at the small round table in her kitchen. “Komm, sit, and we’ll have tea. You can tell me about Simon Fisher.”
Sighing, Lydia put the basket down. No one ever evaded Grossmammi for long. And there was no one else she’d rather talk to anyway.
“There’s not much to tell,” she said. “He’s back with his little girl, and he’s planning to settle here.”
Grossmammi put two mugs of tea on the table and sat down next to her. “Poor boy. How does he look?”
She considered, stirring sugar into her tea. “Older. Much older. Losing Rebecca has aged him. I hardly knew what to say.”
Grossmammi clucked softly. “Poor boy,” she said again. “It’s never easy to lose a spouse, no matter the circumstances. And Rebecca was so young.”
Lydia could only nod, because her throat choked at the thought. She swallowed hard and found her voice.
“I suppose he never imagined such a thing. Now with the little girl to raise, it will be so hard for both of them.” Lydia took a gulp of the hot tea. Mint, this time. Grossmammi grew her own herbs and made her own tea, and she knew mint was Lydia’s favorite.
“Tell me about the child. She’s called after her mammi, I remember.”
“Yah, but he calls her Becky. She seems small for her age, and she’s very fair.”
“Just like Rebecca,” Grossmammi commented. She had an encyclopedic memory when it came to every member of the Leit, as well as their families going back several generations.
“She is the image of Rebecca,” Lydia said slowly, remembering the child’s reaction. “But she acted very odd when I mentioned that she had eyes like her mammi. She just…” Lydia spread her hands, palms up. “She closed down. That’s all I can call it. We had been coloring together, and she put down her pencil and went straight back to her daadi.” She didn’t add that Simon had given her an angry look. Grossmammi didn’t need to know that.
“Poor, poor child,” Grossmammi crooned sadly. “She needs lots of loving. Still, I’m sure she’ll get that if I know the Fisher family.”
Lydia nodded, but she wondered. How was that shy little girl going to react to the rest of the noisy, outgoing Fisher clan, no matter how loving?
She didn’t realize how long she’d been silent, musing about it, until her grandmother clasped her hand. “Is it making you sad, then, seeing Simon again like this?”
For a moment she didn’t know how to respond. Just as Grossmammi seemed to be able to read her thoughts, so she could tell what her grandmother had in mind.
“For sure. It would make anyone sad, ain’t so?” Feeling Grossmammi continue to study her, she had to go on. “If you’re thinking that I had a crush on Simon once, forget it. I was nothing but a child then. I’m all grown up, and I don’t get crushes any longer.”
“You always have a soft spot for the first person you loved, no matter how impossible it was. But it’s not impossible now. Simon ought to remarry. Not right away, but soon enough to give his daughter a mammi.”
“Don’t look at me,” Lydia said emphatically, hoping to ward off any matchmaking. “I’m not looking for a husband. And I don’t think I ever will be. Somebody has to be the maidal aunt. Why not me?”
Her grandmother shook her head slowly. “Are you still fretting about Thomas Burkhalter? It wasn’t your fault.”
The name was like a knife in her soul. “Of course not.” Lydia kept her voice firm and tried not to show what she felt. “That would be foolish.”
But foolish or not, it was true, and she suspected Grossmammi knew it as well as she did. What happened to Thomas—She backed away from the memory and slammed the door on it. She would not start remembering. She wouldn’t.
“I just wondered,” Grossmammi said, her voice mild. “As for the little girl, it sounds as if you made friends with her, at least, if you were coloring with her.”
Lydia nodded, grabbing at the change of subject. “She needs friends, that’s certain sure.”
“Maybe that’s why the gut Lord put her right in your path, Lydia. He may mean for you to help that child, so don’t you miss the chance.”
“I’ll try not to.” She knew Grossmammi’s teachings about not ignoring the jobs the Lord put in front of you. But she suspected that Simon wouldn’t be eager to see her doing anything with his daughter.
CHAPTER THREE
True to the fickle weather, the next day was a delicious taste of spring. The sun shone, the
onion grass and dandelion greens looked ready to be plucked, and spring bulbs sent green spears reaching heavenward.
Lydia smiled as she arrived in town. She could look ahead to a busy morning, given how many people were out on the street already. A cluster of children skipped and hopped along the walk to the elementary school, and an elderly woman stepped out of her door and tilted her face toward the sun, looking as if she’d emerged from a long winter’s nap.
Sure enough, no sooner had she turned the sign on the door to Open than the bell jingled. Frank and his buddy Albert burst in laughing. “We’re first,” Frank announced, grinning at Lydia. “Keep the coffee coming.”
Albert waved the weekly newspaper in one hand, which meant for sure that they’d have plenty to talk about. The paper might only come out once a week, but it was crammed with the sort of news that they liked best, since it was all about their neighbors.
Lydia exchanged amused glances with Elizabeth and seized the coffeepot. “They’ve got spring fever, yah?”
“I don’t doubt it.” Elizabeth shook her head as she pulled out a tray of cream horns. “Naomi hasn’t come by with the shoofly pies yet, so they’ll have to start on something else.”
Nodding, Lydia hurried to take care of her favorite customers. Several of their Amish neighbors supplied the coffee shop with fresh-baked treats, which gave them an extra source of income while also making it unnecessary for Elizabeth to spend so much of her time baking.
She’d pushed Elizabeth into letting her set up the arrangement with the women when Elizabeth had been so ill, and she just hoped it would continue. Elizabeth had enough drive for a woman half her age, but she’d begun to look frail, and Lydia feared for her health.
Scurrying back and forth, keeping customers happy, Lydia was relieved to see Naomi Schutz rush in carrying her usual boxes of shoofly pies. Naomi began unpacking them, and after a quick glance at the crowded room, started cutting and serving without waiting to be asked.
“Denke,” Lydia murmured to her in passing, with a cautious glance toward Elizabeth.
“I was late, so I’ll stay and help for a bit. It won’t hurt James to listen for the baby this morning.” With only one child left at home, Naomi seemed to be enjoying her time out, and Lydia nodded her thanks.
In another hour, the rush was over. Lydia had just persuaded Elizabeth to sit down with a cup of coffee when someone banged at the back door.
“I’ll get it.” She pressed the woman back in her chair. “Must be a delivery.”
It was a delivery, all right, but not anything she expected. Instead, a moving van had pulled up by the door, and a burly man in jeans and a T-shirt leaned against the door.
“Furniture for Simon Fisher,” he declared, waving a paper in one hand.
“That’s right.” She stood back, holding the door wide. “Come in and I’ll show you where it goes.”
He kept shaking his head as she led him through the kitchen. “We thought we were supposed to be stacking it inside the door, not traipsing through a business.”
Elizabeth had joined them by that time, and she looked upset. “But you can’t do that. How would we get through? The furniture…”
Lydia put her arm around Elizabeth. “It’s all right. You go and leave a message at the farm for Simon. I’ll show them where to put the things.”
Elizabeth fussed for another minute while storm clouds gathered on the man’s face, but Lydia finally convinced her. As she trotted off to the phone, Lydia turned to the man.
“Come, now. You know you’re supposed to put things where I want them.”
“You’re not Simon Fisher.” He made what she hoped was a final objection.
“I’m acting for him,” she said firmly. “You stack everything in the storeroom, and I’ll get coffee and shoofly pie ready for you and your crew.”
He considered for another moment and then gave in. “All right,” he grumbled. “It better be good.”
“Freshly baked this morning,” she assured him, wondering why some people had to make a fuss before getting on with things.
Once the decision was made, they worked quickly. Boxes, trunks, tables and chairs all began to make their way through the kitchen, while she kept the way clear for them.
As the parade dwindled down, Lydia followed them into the storeroom, hoping everything had made it safely. Things were stacked in a helter-skelter fashion, but at least they were all upright and in one piece. She winced when she saw a hand-painted dower chest dropped on top of an oak table, but a look at the man’s face convinced her that further argument wouldn’t help.
Besides, since Simon wasn’t here, she couldn’t very well sort things out. No doubt there were some things he’d want to unpack right away, but she didn’t have any idea what. She’d just have to help him rearrange when he got here.
But when a barrel of dishes nearly fell off a dresser, she grabbed for it, letting her annoyance show. “That’s breakable. Set it on the floor in the corner.”
“Yeah, okay. Sorry.” Fortunately, it was a younger man she was addressing now, hardly more than a boy, with a thin face and long hair straggling over his shoulders.
“Finish up now, and I’ll fix you something to eat,” she said after another look. “Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” This time she got a smile, and he moved a little more quickly.
In another half hour the job was finished, and the workmen were clustered around one of the larger tables, drinking coffee and eating baked goods so fast it seemed there’d be nothing left for the customers. Before they could eat everything in sight the foreman seemed to recall another job, and he hustled them out.
Lydia exchanged glances with Elizabeth. “Not the best job I’ve ever seen, but at least everything is in.”
“I’ll just see if I should rearrange…” Elizabeth began, but Lydia shook her head, diverting her away from the storeroom.
“There’s no point until Simon sorts through it himself. I’ll take care of it later.”
Elizabeth didn’t look entirely convinced, but the sound of a buggy pulling into the alley distracted her. In another moment Simon and Becky came in from the side door.
“Our furniture is here?” He looked…torn, Lydia decided. As if he didn’t know whether he wanted to see those remnants of his previous life again or not.
She could understand. Probably everything in the room would remind him of the happiness he used to have.
At her nod, Simon stalked toward the storeroom while Elizabeth busied herself with helping Becky and admiring the stuffed doll the child clutched. That left Lydia to deal with Becky’s father, so she trailed after him.
They had hardly both gotten into the room before he rounded on her, anger replacing any other feelings. “What’s happened in here? Did you let them just throw things in? Couldn’t you have taken a little more care than that?”
Lydia tried to remind herself that this was difficult for him and struggled to keep her voice calm. “I thought you’d want to sort things out yourself before stacking them for storage. You weren’t here when they came, remember?”
* * *
Simon saw the stricken look on Lydia’s face the instant the words were out of his mouth. He barely had time to recognize it before Lydia was responding calmly. Young Lyddy had learned to control her temper, it seemed, while he…well, he’d discovered a temper he hadn’t known he had.
From childhood, Lyddy had had the sort of temper that flared up quickly and was as quickly over. He hoped the fact that she could now hold it in check didn’t mean she’d hold a grudge.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, feeling small in comparison. “That wasn’t fair of me.”
“Forget it.” Lydia’s smile said she had already done so. “I’m sure there are things you’ll want to get out right away, and we can put the rest back against the wall. Where shall we start?”
He couldn’t very well say that he didn’t want help. He’d been rude enough for one morning. The truth was that he shrunk from unpacking boxes filled with memories.
“You have your own work to do. I can handle this.”
Lydia smiled as if she’d expected that response. “We’re not busy right now. And if I go out, you know that your aunt Bess will come in.”
Frowning, Simon glared at her. The look didn’t disturb her smile.
“Well?” She lifted her eyebrows in a question.
He forced himself to nod, even if he couldn’t manage a smile. “Right. Denke. Becky wants some of her books and the clothes her mother made for her doll. And I’d like to find my tools. They’re somewhere in this mess.”
Looking around a little helplessly, he realized what a state he’d been in when he’d packed. Once the decision had been made, he’d been so eager to leave that he hadn’t taken much time over packing. Their friends had all pitched in, of course, and he had no idea what they’d put where.
“I guess we’d best start opening boxes, then. I’ll get something to cut the tape with.”
Her brief absence was enough time for him to give himself a talking-to. He had to stop reacting so stiffly to people who were trying to help. He knew well that folks here would be just as eager to do something as their friends out West. They’d understand and forgive his rudeness, but he’d have trouble forgiving himself.
Lydia came back with a box cutter and a pair of long scissors, and her eyes twinkled with amusement.
“What?” he asked.
“You should see them with their heads together over cups of hot chocolate. Elizabeth is telling Becky a story, and you know what a storyteller she is—she almost acts it out while she talks.”
He chuckled. “I remember. It’s her gift, ain’t so?”
Lydia nodded, laughing a little. “Now she has a new little one to listen to all of them. You’ve made her very happy.”
“I hope.” Suddenly whatever strain had been between them was gone, and he was talking to her as if she were the little neighbor he’d known since she was born. “Let’s get on with it. I don’t want Aunt Bess to have any excuse for trying to work in here.”
