by Marta Perry
He turned his back on her, obviously considering the matter finished. The gesture lit a spark in her.
“Really? You didn’t hesitate to interfere in my life yesterday, as I recall. I don’t think you have room to talk.”
“That was different,” he snapped, swinging back toward her with a forbidding expression.
“How?”
The single word seemed to infuriate him. “Fine. Have it your way. In future I won’t interfere in your life, and you don’t interfere in mine. Or my daughter’s.”
“You can try,” she said sweetly. “But I’m right about Becky, and I was right yesterday, when I said people would talk. Your aunt Bess has already started matchmaking.”
She walked out and closed the door, satisfied that she’d had the last word, but feeling helpless when it came to little Becky, who needed someone to help her.
* * *
Simon stood for a moment, staring at the closed door, baffled. What did Lydia mean? Nothing good, that was sure.
In the months since Rebecca’s death, he’d figured out that virtually every woman, relative or friend, wanted to interfere with Becky. They all acted as if he was incapable of taking care of his own child. It irritated him so much that he went on the offensive each time he encountered it.
Shaking his head, he forced himself to go back to setting up his workspace. Handling the familiar tools started to settle him down gradually. He would focus on this, nothing else. If Lydia didn’t like what he said, it was too bad.
But a thought slid into his mind, sneaking through the barriers he’d put up. What if Lydia had a point? Could she have picked up a problem with Becky he hadn’t even considered?
He slammed the lid down on that treacherous suggestion. He was Becky’s father. He knew her better than anyone. And Lydia—she meant well, but she’d known Becky only a week. She was wrong, that was all, and the sooner she admitted it and left them alone, the better.
Simon found the bracket clock he’d picked up at a yard sale shortly before they’d moved. It was a beautiful old piece with the glass front still intact. Usually that was the first thing that went of these old clocks, especially if no one treasured them. He ran his fingers along the back, feeling the temptation to start work on it now. If he did, he could lose himself entirely in the work, and he wouldn’t have to think of anything else.
A knock sounded on the door, and it opened before he had a chance to say anything at all. Aunt Bess appeared, carrying a steaming mug of coffee.
“I’m not disturbing you, am I? I just thought some coffee would be a good idea. It’s such a damp day.”
“Denke. That does sound fine.”
She set the mug down on the workbench. “Gut.” She beamed. “I want you to feel at home. You can work here as long as you need to.”
The irritation seeped out of him. How could he resent the intrusion when Aunt Bess was so good to him?
“If you’re sure, I was thinking maybe I should put a sign up in the front window. Just so folks will know I’m here.”
“That’s fine. You should ask some of the Leit who have businesses to put up signs for you. They’d be glad to.” She was getting excited, and her cheeks flushed with pleasure at the idea of helping him. “And we should get Lyddy to make the posters for you. She’s wonderful at it.”
She spun, as if to rush out and grab Lydia at this moment, and he grasped her arm. “Don’t trouble Lydia. Not just yet, okay? I have to decide what to put on them and pick up some poster paper and markers.”
Aunt Bess nodded, but she was eyeing him in a way that said she wasn’t going to give up on whatever was in her mind. “I saw what you did yesterday. You jumped right in when Lydia needed someone. That was wonderful kind.”
Embarrassed, he shrugged. “I didn’t do much. I just saw she looked upset.” Curiosity overtook him. “That business with Judith Burkhalter—what was it all about?”
“Didn’t Lydia tell you?”
“No. Listen, if it’s a secret…”
Aunt Bess dismissed that and pulled a chair over so she could sit. “Everyone in the community knows about it. I supposed you’d heard from someone.”
“I didn’t.” Was she trying to discourage him from finding out? No, if everyone knew, she couldn’t mean that.
Aunt Bess hesitated, but he realized she was trying to decide where to begin. “Lyddy was only sixteen at the time—just getting into rumspringa activities. She was such a lively, pretty girl she had all the boys gathering around her.”
“I can imagine.” He could. What he couldn’t imagine was why she hadn’t married one of them by now.
“Yah, well, Thomas Burkhalter just went head over heels for her. You wouldn’t remember him, I guess. When I saw Judith yesterday, I had a feeling it wouldn’t go well. Judith always blamed Lyddy.”
“Blamed her for what?” Aunt Bess had a backward way of telling a story. Maybe she didn’t like remembering it.
“Thomas. Her twin. Like I said, he was crazy about Lyddy, and I think she liked him well enough. He seemed as lively and happy as she was, for a time, anyway.”
“Something changed?” he asked, alerted by the way she spoke.
She nodded. “Thomas got more and more possessive. He wanted Lyddy to say she’d marry him. The more she pulled away, the worse he got.” She paused, studying his face. “You understand, nobody knew all this at the time. Kids that age—they don’t confide in their parents much.”
He thought back to his own teenage years. He guessed he hadn’t, either, wanting to hold his feeling for Rebecca a secret in his heart, half-afraid to share it for fear it would vanish.
“Lyddy struggled with it, I guess. She tried to talk sense to him, but he wouldn’t listen. Maybe he couldn’t. He kept pushing and pushing, wanting to talk to her daad about them getting married. She got him to abandon that, but when she tried to break away from him, it seems he got…well, I’d say crazy, but that wouldn’t be kind. He was sick, they said afterward.”
Once again she was skipping around. “What happened when Lyddy said she didn’t want to be his girlfriend?” That had to be where this was heading.
“He started telling her that if she didn’t love him, he didn’t want to go on living. Said he’d kill himself before he’d let her go. Mind, he never threatened her—I’ll give him that. But it was just about as bad, making her feel like she held his life in her hands.”
“She should have talked to someone.” But he knew even as he said it how difficult it would have been. What sixteen-year-old would want to admit that she was out of her depth?
“Yah, well, it’s easy to say that but not so easy to do, I guess. Anyway she did tell someone eventually—her brother Josiah. Those two have always been close. Maybe she felt stronger having someone else knowing about it, and it was a gut thing, because Josiah found a note Thomas had left for her—a note saying that by the time she got it, he’d be dead.”
“He didn’t, did he?” Surely he’d have heard about it if someone in the community had killed himself.
“Not for lack of trying. The way I heard it, Josiah and Lyddy rushed over to the Burkhalter place. Maybe they had some idea what he’d do, because Josiah drove the carriage right into the barn. They found him, already with the rope around his neck, and he jumped just when he saw them.”
“Awful.” Simon discovered that his hands were clenched into fists, so tight that the nails dug into his palms. “But he didn’t succeed.”
“No. Between them, Lyddy and Josiah got him down. Saved his life, although it seems like Judith could never give them credit for that.”
Simon was silent for a long moment, thinking about the Lyddy he knew—the happy, carefree little girl, always laughing and filled with joy. It had been a harsh entrance to grown-up life for her.
“What happened to him? I take it the family doesn’t live here a
ny longer.”
“Thomas went into the hospital right away. And then he had to see a doctor. There was a special clinic out in Ohio that was recommended to his parents, and they moved out there, figuring it would be best for him. And for all of them, I suppose.” Aunt Bess looked worn down by the story she’d told him, and it was clear that her love for Lyddy had deepened throughout that trouble.
He reached out to squeeze her hand. “But it’s all right now. I mean, surely everybody knows Lyddy wasn’t to blame.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Still, folks will always talk. And that scene Judith made will have them talking even more. Poor Lyddy. I thought maybe she wouldn’t come in today, but she’s not one to let a person down when she has a job to do.”
“I hope she’s not going to mind you telling me the story.” He figured it would take him some time to come to terms with all of it. And in the meantime he had to be careful of what he said to Lyddy. He’d been hard on her already today, and even if he was in the right, he didn’t want to add any more burdens on her.
“Ach, I’m sure she intended me to tell you. It’s best that you know, since everyone else does.” Aunt Bess stood up slowly and put her hand on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t want you to have any bad feelings about Lyddy because of what happened. She’s a wonderful girl, and the way Becky attached to her is so sweet to see. Becky needs someone like Lyddy in her life, ain’t so?”
And there it was…the matchmaking Lydia had predicted. He opened his mouth to say something and closed it again. If he protested, she’d just think he was interested. And even if he ignored it…well, Aunt Bess wasn’t one to give up easily when she’d set her mind on something. Maybe working here wasn’t such a good idea after all—not if Aunt Bess was going to spend every day trying to throw him and Lydia together.
* * *
Lydia sorted clean silverware into the drawer, amused by Becky’s intent expression as she stood next to her, watching.
“Would you like to help me?”
Becky’s face lit with pleasure. “Can I?”
“For sure. Just be careful to pick each piece up by the handle, so you don’t touch the part you eat with, okay?”
Nodding, Becky took a spoon, holding the handle with care.
“Gut. Now spoons go here and forks there.” She demonstrated. “And we just washed our hands, so that’s all right. We always put the handles toward the front of the drawer, so we can pick them up quickly.”
Becky nodded again and put the spoon neatly into the proper place.
“Just right.” She glanced up to see that the tableful of older men was shifting around and getting ready to leave. “Just keep going while I take care of the customers.”
Lydia slid around the counter and hurried to help with raincoats and umbrellas. Usually someone left something here unless she kept an eye on them.
“Here, Frank. Don’t forget your umbrella.” She handed the oversize black umbrella to him, knowing his sister would scold him if he came back without it.
“No chance I’d do that.” He zipped his jacket and looked out at the steady rainfall, his usually cheerful face glum. “If it keeps up like this, the creeks will be flooding before you know it.”
“Ach, don’t be so gloomy.” She put the umbrella in his hand and patted his shoulder. “It’s just a spring shower, you know.”
“Yeah, Frank,” one of his buddies added. “They bring spring flowers, remember?”
“Not if they drown the bulbs, they won’t,” he retorted. “Well, let’s get out in it.”
Lydia held the door to see all of them out. Neither Frank nor his buddy Albert was as light on his feet as before, and she didn’t want them tripping on the doorsill.
As usual, they’d left their tabs and cash scattered across the table, and she scooped them up. Also as usual, they’d been generous with their tips. If she had a few more customers like them, she could retire, she kidded herself.
The coffee shop was quiet after they left, and given how the rain was pelting down, she thought it would probably stay that way. Just as she finished her cleanup, Elizabeth came hustling out of the storeroom.
“Lyddy, I have a job for you. Simon needs some posters made to advertise his clock shop, so I was sure you’d do it for him.”
“Of course,” she said, hiding a smile at the sight of Simon standing behind his aunt, shaking his head furiously. He thought she’d been wrong about the matchmaking, had he? Well, it was just what she’d expected, and it served him right.
“Don’t bother Lyddy now,” he said quickly. “I don’t even have the materials to make the signs yet. And I don’t want to trouble her.”
Lydia gave him a sweet smile, knowing he understood exactly what she was teasing him about. “No problem. I have poster paper and markers at home, and I’ll start them tonight. Just tell me what you want on them.” Aware of Becky watching, she added, “Becky can help me color them tomorrow, ain’t so?”
Becky nodded cheerfully. “It will be fun.”
“Fine,” Elizabeth said, her tone brisk. “You talk to Lyddy about what you want while Becky and I get some cookies out for a snack.”
Giving Simon a slight push in Lydia’s direction, she went off with Becky by her side.
Lydia picked up a pad and pencil. “So what do you want me to put on the posters?”
Simon scowled at her. “You want me to say you were right about Aunt Bess and the matchmaking, don’t you? Okay, you were right.”
“I thought you’d come to see it my way,” she said lightly. It was no manner of use for him to get so annoyed. To Elizabeth, it seemed natural to start pairing people off. “It didn’t take your aunt long to get started, did it?”
His only answer was a growled one. “You wouldn’t understand.”
The trouble was that she did understand, only too well. It would be better for Simon if he didn’t take it so seriously, but it seemed he couldn’t help it.
“Look, I do see what the problem is,” she said. “You don’t want people to start thinking that you’re tied up with me when you have someone else in mind.”
“I don’t have anyone in mind.” Simon sounded as if he’d reached the end of his limited patience. “I’m not going to marry again—not you, not anyone. I found love once, and I don’t suppose anyone has a second chance at a love like that.”
His bleak expression wrenched her heart, and she couldn’t find any response.
Simon blew out a breath. “Never mind me. I just don’t want Aunt Bess to start pushing you. You’re bound to be upset.”
Lydia suspected he was the one who was upset. She shrugged. “Not upset, exactly. It’s a little aggravating, but it’s kind of funny in a way.”
Diverted by her reaction, he raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a strange sense of humor if you think that’s funny.”
At least he wasn’t looking pained any longer.
“You’ll have to work on it. By the time she’s thrown us together three or four times in an afternoon—”
“I’d rather not.”
“Well, then, I don’t see what you’re going to do about it. I’ve never been able to distract your aunt when she’s set on something.”
He frowned, staring at the table as if he were thinking of something. “What do you suppose would happen if I hinted to Aunt Bess that I was thinking that way, but that I really needed to get to know you without scaring you off?”
“You think that would keep her from pushing?” She turned it over in her mind. “I don’t know. She might be even worse. Still, I guess you could try it.”
“Not just me,” he said. “You’d have to at least act as if you were willing to be friends.”
Somehow she had the feeling that she’d end up regretting this. But on the other hand, he could hardly discourage her from trying to help Becky, in that case.
&nb
sp; “Just one thing. If we’re supposed to be becoming friends, then you won’t be angry if I take an interest in Becky, now, will you?”
Simon stiffened, but she was right, and he had to know it. Finally he nodded. “All right. But…” He seemed to grow more serious. “If this makes you uncomfortable for any reason, we stop.”
She tried to chase away the little voice in her mind that said she’d get hurt if she got too close to him. “No problem,” she said firmly, and slammed the door on her doubts.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning it was raining again, and as Lydia drove past the area where Lost Creek ran close to the road, she frowned at the muddy, swirling waters. She didn’t like the way it was rising, but she tried to shake off the apprehension. Maybe she’d been listening to Frank and his buddies too much, with their talk of flooding.
Still, the cheerful lights of town were a welcome sight on such a gloomy day. With innate wisdom, the mare headed straight for the stable, and Lydia was soon ducking through the rain, holding the plastic in place over the posters she’d worked on last night.
“Goodness,” she exclaimed, shedding her wet jacket the minute she got in the door. “I feel like I’ve been ducked in a pond.”
“Ach, you don’t look that bad,” Elizabeth said. She held up the coffeepot. “No one’s in yet, so relax and have some coffee to warm up.”
“That sounds good.” She unwrapped the posters carefully, discovering that they’d come through the drive without a touch of dampness. Elizabeth, carrying a thick white mug of coffee, came to look at them.
“Very nice.” She patted Lydia’s cheek affectionately. “I knew you’d do a wonderful gut job. What are you going to have Becky do?”
“I thought she could color in the border I put round the lettering.” She glanced out at the gray rain. “But Simon might not bring her today.”
Elizabeth followed the direction of her gaze. “Maybe better that way, but I hear she still doesn’t like to stay all day without him.” She shook her head. “Poor little thing. It’s like he’s the only security she has left, and she doesn’t want him out of her sight for long. What she needs is a mother.”
