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

by Marta Perry

Lydia almost asked him if he thought his aunt would be giving up the shop, but stopped herself, first because he might consider it interfering but also because she felt sure he wouldn’t know, any more than she did. She headed down the stairs, very aware of him behind her and knowing she’d be waiting the rest of the day for him to tackle her about what he’d overheard.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Lydia stood outside the shop with Becky, waving as Elizabeth rode off looking like a queen, ensconced in the back seat with blankets and pillows around her. Becky waved energetically, but she was easily distracted when Lydia suggested they bake some cookies.

  “I’m going to help make cookies,” she announced when she entered the kitchen, heading straight for the oven.

  “Yah, but we wash our hands first before touching food. Ain’t so?”

  Becky nodded, hurrying to the sink and standing on tiptoe to reach the faucet. Lydia watched her affectionately. What a wonderful thing it was to see Becky so happy and sure of herself. It was too bad that Elizabeth wasn’t here to see it.

  Her mind immediately switched gear to what would happen to the shop if Elizabeth didn’t feel able to come back. She could always get another job, of course, but it wouldn’t be the same. She’d always felt part of the business here with Elizabeth. No one else was likely to treat her so.

  She shook the thought away irritably and set out to make a big batch of snickerdoodle cookies with Becky. As they stirred and rolled the cookies into balls, Becky kept up a steady stream of chatter. It was as if she were making up for all the silent days at one time. Once they got a couple of trays in the oven she waited, watching the oven doors anxiously.

  “They’re fine,” Lydia assured her. “We have to give them time to bake.”

  “You’re sure they’ll be crinkly on top?”

  “You know, I always used to wonder how they got that way,” she said, smiling at Becky’s surprise that Lydia should have worried about that, too. “I still don’t know, but I know they always do.”

  That seemed to be good enough for Becky. She stepped back immediately when Lydia asked her to, holding her breath until the first tray of cookies was on the rack. She stood on tiptoe to check them out.

  “They are crinkly,” she crowed. “We did it.”

  “We certainly did.” Grabbing a spatula, Lydia lifted the first cookie out, putting it on a small plate for Becky. “Mind you let it cool until I tell you it’s okay. We don’t want a burned tongue, now, do we.”

  Becky nodded solemnly, trying to look down at her tongue, and making Lydia laugh at the resulting expression. For a moment she wished Simon hadn’t gone back to the work site so that he could enjoy the fun. But if he were, it would be hard to stop…

  The bell on the front door jingled, and not sure where Sarah was, Lydia settled Becky at the table with her cookie and hurried through the swinging door.

  Ella Burkhalter came through, carrying a large basket carefully. “Ach, Lyddy, I hope these rolls aren’t down to crumbs by now. I wanted to bring something along to help, but the road is still torn up out our way.”

  “That’s so kind of you, Ella. Everyone has helped so much—” She lost her voice at that point, because the person behind Ella was not her daughter but her niece, Judith Burkhalter.

  “I’ll put some of these in the kitchen,” Ella said. “The rest can go in the display case if there’s room.”

  “Yah, for sure.” Lydia gathered together her straying wits. “Go ahead.”

  Ella hustled into the kitchen, leaving her alone with Judith. Intentionally? She didn’t suppose she’d ever know.

  Judith didn’t speak for a few minutes. Then she walked closer. “I see you’re taking care of everyone, like always.”

  Lydia felt as if she’d been hit in the face. “I don’t know what you mean…” she began, but stopped when Judith began shaking her head, her lips trembling.

  “I’m sorry.” Judith sucked in a breath and seemed to steady herself. “I didn’t mean to do that. That’s not why I came.”

  Lydia put her hand on the counter, thankful the shop was empty at the moment. “Why did you come?” She didn’t mean to sound curt, but she wasn’t going to put herself through another nasty scene with Judith.

  Judith pressed her fingers against her lips for a moment before she spoke. “Since I saw you at worship…” she stopped, then started again. “My aunt was ashamed of me. And I don’t blame her. I never meant to be that way, but being back here and seeing you just made me relive that awful time. Seeing Thomas lying there—”

  Her voice stumbled, and she stopped. Lydia found she couldn’t hold on to her defenses for another moment. She moved quickly to put her arm around the girl, feeling the sobs she was trying to choke back.

  “Komm. We’ll sit down here. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

  Judith sat where she indicated, and in a little while the sobs died away. “I do,” she whispered. “Want to, I mean.”

  Nodding with as much encouragement as she could manage, Lydia sat down, glad to hear Becky’s voice chattering about the snickerdoodle cookies.

  “Thomas is doing much better,” Judith finally said. “He got a very good doctor, and he’s on some medicine that helps him a lot. I never thought… I mean, I believed he did that because of you. I thought you hurt him. None of us understood that he had something wrong with him. My mother and father felt so guilty once they understood.”

  Guilt and sorrow could be a powerful combination. Like Simon, still feeling responsible for Rebecca’s death even though he wasn’t to blame.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “But he’s better now?”

  Judith nodded, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “He works with Daad on the farm, and he got Daad to plant an orchard that’s doing wonderful good. He’s even talking about maybe getting married to a woman who lives just down the road.”

  “I’m glad,” she said, wondering how much her brother’s marriage plans had upset his devoted sister. “If I’d been wiser, I might have been able to handle the situation better.”

  Judith sniffed into her tissue. “Yah. I guess we all have something to be sorry about.”

  She decided against responding to those words. She didn’t want to say anything that might make Judith flare up again.

  “I just hope he’s not making a mistake again.” Judith seemed to be talking to herself.

  Lydia leaned back in her chair, hoping this had done Judith some good. It hadn’t felt very pleasant to her, but it seemed the least she could do.

  “I suppose you think I’m being silly.” Judith darted a look at her, sounding sulky.

  “No, not a bit. He’s your bruder, and you love him.”

  Apparently, that was the right thing to say, because Judith gave a sudden nod and stood up. “I’ll find my aunt,” she muttered and turned away.

  She seemed so incredibly young to Lydia, even younger than she was. It was as if her brother’s troubles had become hers, and Judith had gotten stuck back in the past.

  Poor girl. If Lydia had harbored any resentment against her for the scene at worship, it was completely gone now. All she could feel was pity.

  * * *

  With Aunt Bess in his mother’s capable hands and Sarah and Lyddy in charge at the shop, Simon found himself at loose ends. He’d go back to the work he’d started in the shop, but it seemed wrong to enjoy himself with the old clock he’d rescued when other people were in such trouble. So, with a quick goodbye, he went back down to the flood zone to see if he could find something useful to do.

  He reached the corner where he could see down to the creek, and as he did, his father joined him.

  “Aunt Bess is settled at home already,” he said, before Simon could ask the question. “It went okay, so I got dropped back here.”

  Simon grinned. “You mean you want to get ou
t of the way of Mammi fussing over Aunt Bess.”

  “That’s about it,” he admitted. “Not that Aunt Bess doesn’t deserve some fussing over. She’s always doing for other folks, but she doesn’t want anyone doing for her.”

  He nodded, knowing how true that was, and they both turned to survey the scene in front of them. The creek was still muddy, but it had gone down visibly since earlier in the day, allowing people to see the row of houses that had been flooded. Stained and muddy, some with porches swept away, they were still standing.

  Nearby, an older couple stood, obviously looking down at the houses that had just emerged from the water. Even as Simon watched, the woman’s tears began to flow.

  “How will we ever get it back to the way it was?” She began to weep, seeming too distraught to care who heard her, and Simon’s throat tightened with sympathy.

  He turned away, not wanting to stare. “Those poor people,” he murmured.

  “Yah.” Daad nodded to where the other volunteers were gathering. “Best thing we can do for them is put in a couple of hours’ work, ain’t so?”

  Daad was right, of course, but it was frustrating to see neighbors in such distress and not be able to do more.

  They joined a group that was sweeping water and mud from one of the houses where the basement had been flooded. It was muddy, smelly work, but at least it was something.

  After a half hour, the fireman in charge of the crew called a halt. “Everybody outside and breathe some fresh air for a few minutes. We need it.”

  They all trooped outside, and most of them sat down on a convenient log fence. Muddy and wet, it was still better than standing.

  There was a little flurry of movement down by the lower houses, with a small group advancing on one of them. Simon looked a question at the firefighter.

  “They’re starting to let folks in for a look at the damage,” he said. “Not that they can do anything about it now.” He shrugged. “Still, they want to see the worst.”

  Judging by the way people looked as they came away, there’d been nothing good to see.

  “Wish I could do more,” the firefighter muttered. “Guess we all wish that. Still, there’s been no loss of life. We have to be thankful of that.”

  Daad nodded. “There’s always something to be thankful for. But they’re grieving the life they knew and most likely the memories they lost.”

  “I guess I was just thinking about the physical loss,” Simon admitted. “But I know what you mean about the life they lost. That’s what it’s been for me and Becky. Not just Rebecca, but the whole life we built together.”

  He regretted saying it at once. Daad had never been one to talk about his feelings. He’d probably be embarrassed…

  But his father put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You and Becky still have each other. You’ll build a home, maybe marry again. Not forget but move on.”

  “I don’t think so.” Simon stared absently at the scene in front of them. “I can’t love anyone else the way I loved Rebecca.”

  His father’s hand tightened on his shoulder, and Simon sensed that he was struggling to speak. He actually hoped he wouldn’t. There was nothing anyone could say that would change how he felt.

  But Daad wasn’t done with him. “Not the same way, maybe.” His voice was husky. “But you can still love someone. Marriage isn’t just for the young, remember. Folks get married for companionship, or for family, or just to have someone to take care of. God still blesses them.”

  Simon sat silently until they were called to return to work. He’d never heard Daad speak that way before and probably never would again. He’d retire back into his taciturn manner and stay there.

  Maybe that was why it had made such a strong impression. He didn’t agree—didn’t think it was possible. But if it could…that was something to ponder, wasn’t it?

  * * *

  To Lydia’s relief, the next few days saw a return to something like normal, although the people who’d lost the most likely didn’t see it that way. She and Sarah were still providing coffee and treats to the volunteers and the emergency shelter, and Simon, like a lot of others, worked several hours a day in the flood zone.

  It was a measure of how much the conditions had improved that Jim Jacobs, the water treatment plant manager, was actually there ordering his usual coffee and cruller.

  “Nice to be able to come out in public without worrying someone will punch me.” He grinned as he handed her the cash.

  “It wasn’t so bad as that, surely. Still, when you’re used to turning the spigot and having water come out…”

  “I know, I know. We worked twenty-four hours a day, but the pumps had to be rebuilt.” He grimaced. “Not easy, and how the town’s budget is going to hold up, I don’t know.”

  “You should have heard how folks cheered when the water came back on,” she told him. “That would encourage you.”

  When he wasn’t smiling, Jim looked drawn and tired. “I kept thinking there should be more I could do.”

  “Probably we all felt that.” She thought about Simon’s frustration at not being able to do more. And her own, feeling much the same. “We can each only do our part and trust God for the rest, ain’t so?”

  Jim nodded, picking up the bag with his coffee and cruller. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  Lydia stood musing for a moment on how strange it was. She’d heard the same thing from so many of the volunteers, working twelve hours a day but wanting to do more and feeling helpless against the flood. But on the other side were the complainers, who did nothing. An emergency seemed to bring out the best in some folks and the worst in others.

  She automatically checked on Becky and found her drying teaspoons and arranging them neatly in the drawer. Her heart warmed. Becky had the ability, rare in a five-year-old, of concentrating fully on a task until it was finished. It had taken her younger siblings another ten years to manage that, as she remembered.

  Finishing, Becky closed the drawer and hung her towel up neatly. As she looked up, she caught Lydia’s eyes on her and smiled. Skipping over to her, she caught Lydia’s hand.

  “Could you help me with my sewing? Please?”

  Lydia had started her off on a sewing project a few days earlier, and Becky was an apt pupil. Her neat fingers took to handling a needle quickly.

  “Yah, let’s do that.” A glance told her that Sarah had everything under control. She reached for the sewing basket she’d put on a shelf, and Becky led the way to her usual small table near the kitchen door.

  “Do you think you can finish your heart pillow today?” They’d been working on a small pink heart shape which would become a pillow when stuffed with foam.

  Checking the stitches to be sure they were lined up, she put it on the table and smoothed it out. “Just keep on stitching until you get right here.” She put a straight pin in to mark the spot. “Remember how to make a knot at the end?”

  “I remember,” Becky said, her face scrunching up. “I think. But maybe you’d better do it.”

  “I will.” Lydia touched her cheek lightly, thinking how much she’d miss the child when she wasn’t seeing Becky every day—to say nothing of not seeing Simon.

  He’d gone out to see Aunt Bess after lunch, and he hadn’t returned yet. There should be nothing to make her tense in his visit, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She kept waiting to hear that his great-aunt was giving up the shop. And in the process giving up Lyddy’s job.

  It didn’t necessarily mean that, she knew. Even if she sold or turned the shop over to someone else in the family, Lydia might be able to keep working. Might, but might not. Whoever took over the shop could have family of their own to help run it.

  For a moment she toyed with the idea that she might be able to buy it herself, but what would she use for money? She’d saved some, but not enough. Daad would help he
r if she asked, but she wasn’t going to ask. He had the others to establish, and she could take care of herself.

  “Ready,” Becky said, taking her mind off herself. She held out the fleece heart, its bright pink a cheerful contrast to her dark green dress.

  “Okay.” She took the fabric, making a small knot at the end of Becky’s sewing. “Now you get to stuff it.”

  Becky clapped her hands. “I want to do it.”

  Pulling out the plastic bag filled with foam, Lydia showed her how to poke each piece through the hole she’d left, pushing it into the farthest part of the pillow first. Giggling a little, Becky pulled out a handful of foam and began pressing it in.

  “And then we sew the hole closed and it’s done, ain’t so?” Becky said eagerly. “I want to give it to Aunt Bess. Do you think she’ll like it?”

  Lydia blinked back a tear at the child’s thoughtfulness. “I know she’ll love it. That’s a wonderful gut idea.”

  She was kneeling next to Becky’s chair, helping her, when she glanced up to see Simon standing a few feet away, watching them with the strangest expression on his face.

  Standing up quickly, Lydia took a step toward him. “What is it? Is something wrong with your aunt?”

  “No, no, there’s nothing wrong.” Whatever had been troubling him, Simon seemed to wipe it away quickly. “Aunt Bess is a little stronger every day. Today she even asked if we’ve started filling up the freezer again.” He hesitated. “I told her yes, but are we?”

  Lydia laughed at his expression. “Yah, we have.” She tried to take her mind off her own worries. “Look what Becky is making.”

  Becky held it up with a smile of satisfaction. “See? It’s almost finished. I’m going to give it to Aunt Bess. Lyddy says she’ll like it.”

  “Lyddy’s right,” he said, smiling at his daughter with a tenderness that melted Lydia’s heart. “She’ll love it. You’re doing a wonderful gut job.”

  He sat down next to Becky, and Lydia murmured an excuse and headed for the kitchen. She treasured seeing him each day, but sitting there with him and his daughter suddenly overwhelmed her with emotion. That was too intimate for her control.