by Marta Perry
“I’m sure he’ll find something to do.” She was determined to put a good face on the situation. “Elizabeth wants me to keep on offering free coffee and drinks to all the volunteers, and another pair of hands will help. And his sister is coming in, as well. She’ll watch Becky along with helping in the kitchen.”
“I’ll bake tomorrow,” Mammi said, eyes glowing at the thought of cooking for more people. “And Dorie said to tell you she’ll be bringing some things to the bake shop, as well.”
Dorie, Lydia’s older sister, lived with her family on the other side of town, so she shouldn’t have trouble coming in. She just hoped Dorie wouldn’t bring her three-year-old twins along. Much as Lydia loved her little nephews, she hated the thought of having those two active boys run free through the coffee shop.
“That will be a big help,” she said, her words interrupted by an enormous yawn.
“Ach, you’ve had such a couple of days.” Mammi began gathering up plates. “After dessert you’ll go straight to bed.”
She hated to admit how wonderful that sounded. “I’ll help with the dishes—” she began, but Mammi interrupted her.
“You’ll do no such thing. As if I can’t manage them by myself. Sleep is the best thing for you right now.”
Josiah grinned. “You might as well give in. I’d guess no one will tell me or Simon to go to bed early, and we put in a long day, too.”
“You go up early, as well,” Mammi scolded. “And I’d tell Simon the same if I had him under my wing.”
Lydia began serving the cherry pie Mammi had cut, and she managed to elbow her brother while she did it. “You mind Mammi too, you hear?”
He gave her a mock glare. “I’ll say this, I found out hauling furniture isn’t so easy, especially on stairs. And when folks are following you around, all upset, it’s even worse.”
Mamm clucked in sympathy, looking as if she’d take all those folks in, if she could. Of course she would. Everyone would do what they could in a crisis like this. But it would still be a long road back for some of those people.
Half an hour later, Lydia was twisting her hair into a long, loose braid, ready to slip into bed, when someone rapped softly.
“Komm.” Maybe Mammi, wanting to fuss a little more.
But it was Grossmammi. “Let’s talk a few minutes before you sleep,” she said, closing the door.
Lydia sat down and patted the bed beside her. “I can always stay awake for you.”
“Ach, that’s ferhoodled, for sure.” Grossmammi settled herself and clasped her hand. “Now tell me the things you didn’t say. About Simon.”
Lydia could only stare at her for a long moment. Denying it would be useless. Grossmammi would always know the truth. “I love him,” she whispered. “I never thought, after what happened with Thomas, that I could love someone.”
“That was even more ferhoodled,” Grossmammi said. “What happened to Thomas was not your fault, and he’s alive to make a new start because of you and Josiah. It has nothing to do with what you feel for Simon.”
“No. It doesn’t.” And she was able to believe that was true. “But Simon doesn’t think of me that way. Even if he did,” she hesitated, “I know he hasn’t accepted losing Rebecca.”
“Let me tell you a secret,” Grossmammi said. “Most times men don’t notice what’s right in front of them until they’re pushed into it.”
She couldn’t help smiling at her grandmother’s philosophy. “I don’t think I’d be very good at pushing him. And Rebecca…” Her throat tightened at the thought of his loss and Becky’s.
Grossmammi’s fingers tightened on hers. “Are you sure? It’s been nearly a year, and he did come back.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “He won’t talk about her. Can’t talk about her, even to Becky. And that child needs to know what to think about her mammi. She’s all tied up inside with it.”
“Have you talked to her?”
That was a sore spot. “I would, but any mention of her mother to Becky makes Simon so angry. He says he’ll tell her anything she needs to know. But he doesn’t.”
“Sounds like he needs something to force him into it.” Grossmammi gave a short nod. “I’ll pray on it.”
Lydia blinked away tears. “Denke,” she murmured, although she couldn’t imagine what that something would be. She was silent for a moment, trying to recover herself. “But even so, I don’t think he’ll ever love someone else the way he loved Rebecca.”
Her grandmother studied her face for a long moment, her eyes filled with the wisdom of years. “Maybe not,” she said finally. “She was his first love. But that doesn’t mean she has to be his only love. There is always room in the heart for more.”
Lydia wanted, so much, to believe that. But she didn’t know if she could.
* * *
Lydia had just finished making the first pot of coffee at the shop the next morning when she heard noises at the kitchen door. She turned to greet Becky, who came running to give her such a big hug it seemed she hadn’t seen Lydia for a week.
“Lyddy, I’m back,” she said, and the happiness in her face melted Lydia’s heart. How could she object to having Simon and Becky living here when it obviously meant so much to the child?
“I’m wonderful glad to see you.” She glanced over Becky’s head to smile at Simon and Sarah.
Simon just nodded in greeting, but Sarah looked almost as happy as Becky. Tying an apron around her waist, she hurried to Lydia. “I’m ready to help. Just tell me what I should do.”
Deciding to take her at her word, Lydia sent her off to the storeroom to bring in a fresh supply of paper cups. The coffee shop normally served its coffee in the thick white mugs most people preferred, but until they had water coming out the spigot, it would be impossible to keep enough of them washed.
“What can I do?” Becky tugged at her hand, but Simon grasped the child’s shoulder for a moment.
“Just let me have a word with Lyddy, and then you can talk,” he said.
Becky nodded, agreeable as always to anything her father suggested. It occurred to Lydia that she’d never even seen Becky pout a little at an unpopular suggestion. Lyddy appreciated cooperative children, but somehow a little dissatisfaction would seem more normal.
But Simon was claiming her attention. “I’ll bring in the jugs of spring water I brought with me, and then I think I’d best see what happened when the water crested. I’ll probably be needed there again today.”
“We’ll be fine here. Won’t we, Becky?” She got the expected nod. “Come back and tell us about it when you have time. And tell any of the volunteers you see that there’s free coffee and snacks again today.”
He nodded and bent to give Becky a hug. “Don’t forget to help and be sure to tell Sarah or Lyddy if you need anything.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned and was gone in a few long strides.
She would not stand here staring after him. There was work to be done.
Sarah returned with the cups, and together they began to get the shop ready to open. Becky trailed behind them, helping everywhere she could, and Lyddy soon realized she’d have to find something to occupy the child, especially when they were carrying pots of hot water around the kitchen.
Luckily she had just the project at hand. “Becky, we need to put up a couple of new signs, so that people who are helping in the flood area know they can have free coffee. Do you want to help with those?”
That was a project after Becky’s heart, as she knew, and in a few minutes the little girl was settled at a small table ready to color in and decorate the wording Lydia had done.
Sarah smiled when Lydia returned to the kitchen. “Becky sure loves to color and draw. That will keep her busy.”
“And doing something helpful.” She glanced back in Becky’s direction, loving the total concentration
on her face. “That seems really important to her…that she’s helping, especially her daadi.”
“Yah, I noticed that, too.” Sarah bent over the oven, pulling out the pan of cinnamon rolls she’d been warming. She hadn’t waited to be asked. She’d just done it. Clearly, she was another person who wanted to be helpful.
With her dark brown hair and eyes, Sarah looked very much like her older brother. Fortunately, Lydia thought, she didn’t have his square, stubborn jaw.
“I’ll open the door. We’re as ready as we can be.”
When she reached the door, she found that Frank and his buddies had already arrived. “Come in. You’re early today.”
“We’ve all got jobs for the day,” he said, obviously relishing having something important to do. “Some at the shelter and some at the food bank. But we have to have our coffee, first.”
“Coming right up,” she said. “You know it’s free to you in return for all your volunteering.”
She could hear them teasing each other about who deserved free coffee, and then the shop started to get busy. She didn’t get back to their table until they were leaving and wasn’t surprised at all to find that someone had left money on the table, despite her offer. But that was the sort of people they were, she knew. She put the money in the box they were using for a cash register until the electricity came back on.
The morning seemed to fly past, almost as fast as the rumors that were flying about what was going to happen when. Apparently, assistance hadn’t arrived from the state yet, but the Salvation Army was already busy finding housing for those who were displaced.
“It must be awful not to even know what you can save from your house,” Sarah commented, loading a tray. “I feel so bad for them.”
“I’m sure your brother will have some stories to tell about it when he gets back. At least folks are doing everything possible to help them.” She paused for a moment while Sarah carried the tray of doughnuts to the front, thinking how useful the girl was being.
“What next?” Sarah said, coming back.
“Next I think you should sit down and have something to eat for yourself.” Lydia gestured toward the table. “I’ll take care of the front, but it looks as if we’ll have a lull for a bit.”
“I’m fine,” Sarah protested. “This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
It occurred to Lydia that the girl was probably doing the very things that she’d consider chores at home. But being here was different, and that was important at Sarah’s age.
“You like getting out of the house, I guess,” she ventured.
“For sure.” Sarah poured a cup of coffee for each of them. “Did you know that my twin is going to start as an apprentice at the machine shop this summer? He’s not a bit older than me, but when I told Mammi I wanted a job like him, she wouldn’t listen.”
“Working in a machine shop?” Lydia asked, smiling.
Sarah giggled. “That would be fun, wouldn’t it? But I’d like to work in a restaurant or here, in the coffee shop. I don’t see why I shouldn’t learn to do something useful.”
Lydia couldn’t agree more, but she decided it wouldn’t be right to say so. Not unless she wanted to get into trouble with Sarah’s parents.
“Everyone has a job but me,” Sarah said, a trace of rebellion in her voice.
“You know, when Simon sees how capable you are here, he might be willing to talk to your parents about it,” she suggested. Simon wouldn’t appreciate her interference, she guessed, but Sarah deserved some encouragement.
“You feel he might?” Her face lit up at the thought.
“It’s worth a try,” she said. “Since we’re not so busy right now, I’m going to run upstairs and see what needs to be done for tonight.”
“All right,” Sarah called after her. “But I’ll do it.”
Smiling, she went lightly up the stairs. Sarah was really mature for her fourteen years. Maybe, like everyone else, she was rising to the occasion.
One of the bedroom doors stood open, so she headed for it first, making a mental note that the beds would have to be changed. When Lydia stepped inside, everything she was thinking flew out of her head.
Becky sat on the edge of the bed. She had taken her braid down from under her kapp, and as Lydia watched, she picked up a red marker and started to color a strand of corn silk blond hair.
“Becky, stop.” She hurried over to the child, reminding herself that she must be careful. Simon wouldn’t want her to interfere, but he also wouldn’t want his daughter to color her hair red.
Becky looked up at the sound of her voice, clutching the marker, and her face set stubbornly. “I want to color my hair.”
Gently, she reminded herself. “You do? I don’t think markers are very good for that.” She took the marker from the child’s hand, relieved that Becky didn’t resist.
“I want to,” she repeated.
“I see that you do.” There was something almost desperate in the set look of the child’s face, and she prayed silently for guidance, her heart aching. “But why? I think you have pretty hair.”
For a moment she thought Becky wouldn’t answer, and she wished Simon was here to deal with his daughter. But then Becky looked up at her, blue eyes filling with tears.
“People keep saying I’m like my mammi. But I’m not. I’m not! Mammi could do everything. I can’t do anything.”
Dropping the marker, Lydia gathered Becky’s hands in hers. Her throat was so tight she struggled to speak, and she had to. She had to assure this precious child that she was unique and loved.
“Becky, you have it all wrong. Really. Mammi was a grown-up woman, and you’re such a little girl. I think by the time you grow up, you’ll be able to do all the things Mammi did, and maybe even more.”
Becky’s expression didn’t change. She was failing to get through to her.
“People say it. All the time.”
“People say silly things sometimes.” Herself included. But who could guess the child would interpret the innocent words that way? “They’re just trying to start talking to you. They mean that you look like your Mammi did when she was a little girl. That’s all.”
Some of the tension drained from her face. “Are you sure?”
“Yah. I’m positive. I said it to you, and that’s what I meant.”
Becky considered the words, her face serious. “But…if I’m not like Mammi, will Daadi love me just as much?”
“Ach, Becky, of course he will.” Her grandmother’s words slipped into her mind, and she clung to them. “There’s always room in the heart for more love.”
Hope dawned slowly on Becky’s face. Then she threw herself into Lydia’s arms. Tears spilling over, Lydia held her close. A faint sound made her glance toward the door. Simon stood there. Watching. Listening. And she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
* * *
Simon froze, immobile with shock from the power of that conversation. He shook it off, trying to be angry with Lyddy for talking to Becky about her mother after he’d made his feelings clear. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because however it had happened, Becky had turned to Lyddy, not to him. Lyddy had brought out the things that he needed to know about his daughter.
This wasn’t a time for recriminations. Lyddy had already seen him, and in a moment, Becky might turn and spot him, too. Praying for the right words to say, he walked quietly into the room.
Lyddy moved, as if she’d get up and leave the room, but he gestured her to stay. She was in this now, like it or not. Becky looked up, saw him and huddled against Lyddy, the gesture hurting his heart.
“Lyddy is right, ain’t so?” He sat down next to them, touching his daughter gently. “There’s always room for love in your heart. Your mammi taught me that, and I know she wants you to know it, too.”
Becky looked up at him, blue eyes w
ide and wondering. “You…you’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“You see?” Lyddy said. “You don’t need to color your hair or try to be perfect. Daadi loves you just the way you are.”
He spotted the markers scattered on the quilt as Lyddy touched Becky’s braid lightly. Why would she think…? But that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that his daughter know he loved her more than anything.
Stroking her hair, he smiled at her, hoping she couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. “I would love you just the same if your hair was purple with green stripes. Okay?”
Becky giggled, and the tension seemed to vanish as if it had never been. “Mammi wouldn’t like purple and green, would she?”
“Probably not. You know, when you were a tiny baby, you had a little wisp of blond hair right on top of your head. And Mammi said it was the prettiest curls she’d ever seen.”
“She did?”
But even as he nodded, her little face clouded up again.
“Sometimes…sometimes I can’t remember things about Mammi,” she whispered. “I don’t want to forget.”
Simon felt as if he’d been stabbed in the heart. How could he have been so thoughtless? How could he have understood so little?
“You know, I think that’s because we haven’t talked enough about her.” And it was his fault. “Suppose we make an agreement between us. Whenever you want to talk about Mammi, I’ll help you remember. And you’ll do the same for me. All right?”
Her smile blossomed. To his surprise, his daughter reached out and patted his cheek as if to comfort him. “I promise, Daadi.”
His throat closed completely, and he couldn’t possibly speak. He looked at Lyddy in a wordless appeal for help.
“I think we’d better go back and help Sarah, don’t you think? She probably needs us.”
“Okay.” Becky hopped off the bed as if none of this had happened. “I’ll help.”
