Harlequin Love Inspired March 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Marta Perry

  They started opening boxes. Lydia worked methodically, checking the contents, asking if he wanted them now, and then marking each box before pushing it back against the wall. Simon realized he was grateful for her detached attitude. He tried to follow her lead.

  He found he was watching her, liking the way she approached the job and her calm acceptance of the fact that he needed help. She would for anyone, he guessed. Little Lyddy had grown into a very competent young woman.

  How was it that she wasn’t married? She must be in her midtwenties by now, and she certain sure was appealing. The boys around here must not have any taste if they ignored her.

  “I think I’ve found your tools,” she announced.

  Simon dropped what he was doing to move to her side, grasped the box and tore it the rest of the way open with an eagerness he hadn’t felt in a while. “Right.” He lifted out a caddy loaded with tools and then found the box that contained the smallest, finest tools he used on intricate clock repairs. Opening it on the spot, he took them out one at a time, making sure everything was there and none had been damaged.

  “You look like a child at Christmas,” Lydia observed, and he had to laugh.

  “I feel like it, too. There’s nothing I’d rather do just now than get back to work.”

  She looked at him, seeming to consider his words. “Can’t you? I mean, I know your house isn’t built yet, but clock repair doesn’t take a lot of space, does it? Maybe you could get started in a small way.”

  “Maybe I could.” Reality asserted itself. “But not at home. The boys would be trying to borrow my tools, and Mammi would interrupt every five minutes to see if I wanted something to eat.”

  She chuckled at his words. “Ach, that’s how a mother says she loves you, ain’t so?”

  Nodding, he put all of his repair tools back into a box and set it closer to the door. At least it would be there if he could figure out a way to get started.

  “I guess you would need a little peace and quiet to do such detailed work,” Lydia commented, replacing some sheets back in a box and labeling it. “I glad I don’t have that sort of job. I’d rather have folks around while I’m working.”

  “Like those old guys who flirt with you?” He couldn’t seem to keep a little tartness from his voice.

  But Lydia shrugged it off. “It doesn’t mean anything, and it makes them happy,” she said placidly.

  He almost didn’t hear her, because he was too intent on the piece of furniture she’d just pulled into the light.

  “Don’t,” he said sharply. But uselessly. Of course it had to come out, bringing the memories with it.

  He stood next to her, reaching out to touch it with reluctant fingers, as if it would burn him.

  It didn’t, of course. It was just a piece of furniture, that was all. No matter what memories were attached to it.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft. “It’s something special.”

  “Yah.” For a moment he stood there, silent, letting his hands run over the smooth wood of the rocker, as warm as if it were alive.

  The momentary rebellion at the sight of it faded away, and he experienced a longing to talk—to say something to a listener who didn’t share his grief.

  “I made it for Rebecca when she was expecting Becky.” With love in every step of it, he told himself. “She laughed, telling me to make it sturdy enough to last through a big family.” His throat tightened. “It wasn’t to be.”

  “It’s hard to understand the Lord’s will sometimes.” Lyddy put her hand lightly on his arm, a featherlike touch that spoke of caring.

  “Yah. It is.” He put his hand over hers, turning to her to thank her for understanding. But the words didn’t get said. They just stood there, inches apart, hands touching. And time seemed suspended. “Lyddy.” He murmured her name. This was a new Lyddy, it seemed, with all the laughter and liveliness of the child added to a woman’s softness and caring.

  He thought…

  Whatever it was, it was lost in the opening of the door and Aunt Bess’s cheerful voice. He yanked his hand back and sensed Lyddy turn away. She was trying to put space between them, and he couldn’t blame her.

  Aunt Bess was asking him a question, and Becky was peeping cautiously into a box, her doll held against her. With a fierce effort, he turned to them, forcing himself to listen. Forcing himself not to show the mortification he felt.

  He must never do that again. Never. He had found love once, and it had been taken away. He wouldn’t look for it again, ever.

  * * *

  Lydia went straight to the kitchen, where she leaned against the sink and tried to catch her breath. Her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. She couldn’t let anyone see her until she had control of herself, but she should be serving customers. Elizabeth would think she’d taken leave of her senses.

  Come to think of it, maybe that wasn’t so far wrong. Sucking in a breath, she bent over the sink and splashed some cold water on her face. There, that was better.

  Lydia straightened, running her cold hand across the back of her neck. She had been caught off guard when the unthinkable happened, but she could control herself. But she’d never experienced anything like the feeling that overwhelmed her when she’d been so close and looked into Simon’s eyes.

  This was foolish. She was a grown woman, not a giddy teenager. She could keep her feelings in check. Still, it might be safer to stay clear of Simon as best she could.

  Her grossmammi’s voice sounded in her head at that. God puts people in our path because He expects us to help them. That was what Grossmammi believed. If that grieving little family had been placed by God in her path, it wasn’t right to run away from her responsibility.

  Before she could argue with herself, she heard voices, and all three of them came out of the storeroom just as Lydia reached the counter. To be exact, Elizabeth was doing most of the talking. She seemed even more delighted than Simon and Becky over the arrival of their belongings. Maybe that made it more certain in her mind that Simon and Becky were here to stay.

  Lydia smiled, watching them. Elizabeth would never admit to having favorites among her many great-nieces and nephews, but Lydia knew from the way she talked that Simon had a special place in her heart—maybe just because he was so different from his siblings.

  Becky, clutching something to her chest along with her doll, trotted over to Lydia. “Look.” She held out a little bundle of clothes.

  She took them, spreading them on the counter and smoothing them out with her hand. Doll clothes, handmade for a typical Amish faceless doll. Every little girl had one, and although there might be other dolls, this one was usually the much-loved favorite. Lydia still had hers, tucked away in a dower chest her grandfather had made for her.

  “They are so pretty.” She held up a dress made from a bit of dark green fabric. The stitches were so tiny as to be almost invisible. “I think your doll must love this one.”

  Becky nodded solemnly. Then she looked through the rest, her face clouding as she looked a second time.

  “Was ist letz? What’s wrong?” She hated seeing the child’s smile vanish.

  “Her nightgown isn’t here.” Becky’s eyes filled with tears. “I was certain sure it would be. Daadi said it must be.”

  She could imagine it without any difficulty—the rush of getting ready to leave, trying to get all their household belongings packed up when they were already stressed and grieving. How easily something could go astray.

  Lydia knelt beside her, blotting the tears with a napkin. “You know what? I have my doll and her clothes at home, and I’m sure she has a nightgown you can have. All right?”

  Becky’s face cleared a little, but not entirely. “But then your dolly wouldn’t have a nightgown to sleep in.”

  “That’s all right,” Lydia said hastily. “I know she has an extra one, and we’d love
to share. I’ll get it out and bring it over as soon as I get home.”

  “For sure?” Her eyes lit up.

  “For sure,” Lydia echoed, smiling. It wasn’t hard to help Becky. Helping her father would be a much more difficult, maybe impossible, task.

  Elizabeth hurried over to grasp some coffee cups. “What’s for sure? Are you two planning something?”

  “The nightgown for Becky’s doll is misplaced, so I’m going to get out the one—the extra one—I have. She’ll want to have it by bedtime.”

  “Sehr gut,” Elizabeth said approvingly. “Will you bring some doughnuts to the table? Simon wants a snack before he goes back to his sorting.”

  “You mean you insisted I have a snack,” Simon said, looking himself again but avoiding Lydia’s gaze. He took the coffee cups from his aunt and carried them to the nearest table, while Lydia brought a plate of doughnuts.

  “Hot chocolate for Becky?” she asked, evading his eyes.

  “Maybe a glass of milk instead. Denke, Lyddy.”

  She went for the milk, feeling slightly better at hearing the nickname on his lips again.

  When she returned, she caught the end of something Elizabeth was saying. “…don’t see why not. It’s the best solution.”

  Simon was shaking his head. “I don’t think—”

  “Ach, that’s just because you think it would be a trouble for us, but it’s not.” Elizabeth was at her most determined, and when she set her mind on something, most folks just gave in, knowing she wouldn’t let up until she was satisfied. Never something for herself, mind. Always something she thought best for others.

  Lydia set the milk down in front of Becky and popped a straw in it. Becky’s eyes widened, and she gave Lydia a whole-hearted smile, cradling her doll to her chest.

  “Denke, Lyddy,” she whispered.

  Her heart expanding, Lydia nodded. Becky was opening up.

  “Don’t you agree with me, Lydia?” Elizabeth demanded.

  She looked at them, trying to switch mental tracks. “Agree? I might, if I knew what you were talking about.”

  Elizabeth heaved a sigh. “Simon was showing me his tools. Didn’t he show you, as well?”

  “Yah,” she said cautiously, wondering where this was going.

  “It’s obvious. Simon wants to get started on his business as fast as possible, and the ground is so wet that who knows when they’ll be able to start on his house. So I think he should set up in the storeroom.” She switched to Simon abruptly. “You said you had some work already in hand, and no place to do it. The storeroom is perfect—well, not perfect, but there’s room, and we can bring in a table and extra lighting.”

  “I’m sure we could,” Simon said, his patience stretching. “But I don’t think it’s a gut idea. It’ll mean extra work for you and Lyddy, and…”

  “That’s ferhoodled, and you know it. It won’t bother us to have you working in the other room. We won’t even know you’re there.”

  Lydia didn’t know about Elizabeth, but she certain sure would be aware if Simon were in the next room. And she could see he was running out of excuses.

  “You’re forgetting about Becky.” His face softened, and he touched his daughter’s head lightly. “She wouldn’t be happy at the farm without me all day. Not yet, anyway.”

  “So you’ll bring her along whenever you want,” his aunt replied. “She’s a quiet child, and she’ll be no trouble at all. She can even help, can’t you, Becky?”

  Becky’s eyes, darting from one to another, settled on Elizabeth, and she nodded.

  Elizabeth turned to Lydia, as she’d known she would, and her thoughts whirled.

  “You agree, don’t you, Lyddy?”

  If Elizabeth was going to start calling her Lyddy, the battle against the nickname was lost. And as for having them here, with Simon in and out every day, intruding into her thoughts and unsettling her emotions—well, any opposition was lost there, too. She couldn’t look at Becky and say she didn’t want them there, no matter how much she wanted to retreat.

  “Yah, I do. I think it’s a fine idea.” She managed to look at Simon and smile, hoping her thoughts didn’t show. Or her feelings.

  Simon gave her a serious, measuring look, as if he were trying to see through her to the contents of her heart. Finally he nodded.

  “I guess we may as well try it. Denke.”

  Were his reasons for reluctance the same as hers? She couldn’t believe he felt anything for her. That was impossible, for a reason that anyone could see. He was still in love with his wife.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A flurry of customers distracted Lydia and kept her busy for the next hour. But she couldn’t help being aware of Simon and Becky’s presence. Somehow it upset the balance of the shop, and she couldn’t quite figure out why. Anyway, she just worked here. The important thing was that Elizabeth seemed happy and satisfied with this turn of events.

  Becky stayed in the storeroom for a time, coming out now and then to put things in a box to be taken home with them. Lydia couldn’t help smiling when she glanced at the child. Becky was entirely engrossed, and she’d lost the worried look that was too old for her little face.

  Eventually, Becky seemed to tire of the activity. She came to Lydia and stood there, looking at her.

  “Can I get something for you, Becky?” The earlier rush was over, and she had time now to concentrate on other things.

  “Do you have some more paper I can use? Please?”

  “For sure,” she said, delighted that the child had come to her and asked for what she wanted. “Here’s a table right here.” She pointed to one near the wall, and Becky climbed onto a chair while Lydia got out paper placemats for coloring and a batch of the colored pencils.

  She put one of the placemats in front of Becky and stacked the others. “There. That way you can make a lot of pictures, yah?”

  Becky nodded and picked out a red pencil. “I’ll make some tulips for you and Aunt Bess.”

  “Wonderful gut! We’ll like that.”

  She stepped back, her gaze meeting that of her employer. Elizabeth was smiling, and she touched her chest lightly. “She’s stealing your heart, ain’t so?” she murmured.

  Lydia could only nod. “I can’t resist her, I guess.”

  Elizabeth’s smiled broadened, and she studied Lydia’s face as if she’d been struck by an idea. But whatever it was, she didn’t say anything, and Lydia turned away as the bell over the door tinkled.

  Pleasure rushed through her when she saw her cousin. Beth was not only a cousin, she was a dear friend, and just the sight of her warmed Lydia’s heart. The black dress she wore was a reminder that Beth had lost her husband last fall, but after a time of grief and pain at the revelation of his misdeeds, Beth seemed to have come through that dark night. Glancing at her sweet face, anyone could tell she’d regained her spirit. And if Lydia knew what was going on, Beth was well on the way to a lasting love.

  Beth’s son, five-year-old Noah, came in her wake, carefully wiping his shoes on the mat. Then he looked toward Lydia and grinned, blue eyes sparkling. “We came to see you,” he announced.

  “So I see.” She gave him a quick hug. “I’m wonderful glad you did.”

  “We were shopping.” Beth announced the obvious, putting a large paper bag on the floor near the coat hooks.

  “Don’t tell me you needed something you don’t carry in your own store,” she teased. Beth and Daniel Miller, her late husband’s partner, ran a general merchandise store on the edge of town, and Noah was a proud helper there.

  “Fabric and yarn,” Beth said, showing her the contents of the bag. “I need to do a little sewing.”

  Lydia wondered if the deep purple fabric was meant for a dress that would mark the end of Beth’s mourning clothes but thought it better not to ask. She and Beth and Miriam, their other girl
cousin, told each other most everything, but this place was too public for a serious conversation.

  “I heard that Simon Fisher is here. He’s back to stay, ain’t so?” Beth gave her a quick hug once she’d hung up their jackets. “That’s gut news.”

  “Yah, it is.” She glanced toward the storeroom, but Simon wasn’t in sight. “He’s back in the storeroom now, but you’ll probably see him before you leave. And this is his daughter, Becky.” She led them to the table where Becky was ensconced. “Becky, this is my cousin Beth, and her boy, Noah. He’s about the same age as you. That means you’ll both start school in September.”

  “Hi, Becky. What are you doing? Making a picture?” Noah leaned on the chair across from her.

  Becky stared at him shyly, and Lydia hoped she’d respond. She didn’t speak, but after a moment she shoved a paper placemat and a handful of pencils toward him.

  Apparently, Noah recognized that as an invitation, and he climbed on the chair and seized a colored pencil.

  “That’s fine,” Beth said. “You color, and then you can have a treat later. Cousin Lyddy and I want to talk.”

  “Your timing was perfect.” Lydia said, leading her to a nearby table. “We’ve been busy off and on all day, but it should be fairly quiet now. Coffee?”

  “What about some of Grossmammi’s herbal tea?” Beth took a packet from her bag and handed it to Lydia. “For you.”

  “You didn’t have to bring it,” she protested. “You should know we have a wonderful supply at our house.”

  “I know, but I thought some spearmint would taste right, and you might not have it here.”

  “You’re getting as bad as Grossmammi,” Lydia teased, taking the packet. “A special herb for every season. Spearmint for spring, yah?”

  “Yah, and who knows why? It’s Grossmammi’s secret.”

  Still smiling, Lydia went to bring the kettle to a boil and warm the teapot. Seeing Beth always made her feel better, not that she’d needed cheering up. They’d been constantly together when they were kinder, but growing up had changed some things. Not their friendship, though, no matter how many times they saw each other.