He turned and lifted an inquisitive brow. “That’s wonderful, Lydia. What on earth could be wrong with that?”
Before she could cut in, he continued in a voice edged with sudden excitement. “It sounds like a selfless goal. In fact, that’s very generous of you.” After a slight hesitation on his part, he lowered the pitch of his voice to uncertainty. “But I don’t understand. . . What’s the issue?”
She gave a soft lift of her shoulders. “I shouldn’t complain. It’s just that this year going through with it will be more difficult.” She cleared the knot from her throat.
“Over the years, Anna and I had so much fun coming up with our goal to make something nice happen for someone by Christmas Eve. And when it did, we’d light our homemade candle together in the living room window. That very one candle that we don’t touch until our goal’s accomplished.”
When he turned toward her, his eyes reflected lack of understanding. She decided to make her point. “But this year . . . you see, things are different.” She lowered her gaze to her lap. Her hands were clutched so tightly together, her knuckles turned white. Finally, she unlaced her fingers and pushed out a sigh.
“I’ll be doing it alone.” She softened the pitch of her voice. “Anna got married a couple of months ago and moved to Ohio.”
After a lengthy pause, he offered a sympathetic nod. “Ah ha. I get it. You’re missin’ your big sis. You’ve always decided your Christmas wishes together, and well . . . this year will be a huge adjustment because you’ll be doing what you’ve done for years with her alone.”
For some strange reason, the genuine understanding in his voice and the soft expression in his eyes prompted her to relax a bit. Sighing relief, she rested the back of her head against the seat and closed her eyes a moment.
She’d confessed her worry. The tenseness in her shoulders quickly disappeared. When the words had come out, they hadn’t sounded nearly as severe as they’d seemed. She opened her lids and smiled a little.
As Lydia digested what she’d just told him, she silently acknowledged the huge significance of her confession. “John, all of my life, I’ve depended on Anna to help me with things. Things that I thought were important, anyway. Like friendship. Support. Advice.”
“That seems natural. I mean, to lean on an older sibling. I wouldn’t know . . . I mean, I’m the eldest of twelve. But now that you mention it, my brothers and sisters count on me to help with their decisions all the time.”
“When I think about it, maybe I sound naïve.”
“Not at all. But you must have expected your older sister to eventually get married.”
Lydia nodded. “Of course. She courted Jacob Yoder, and Anna confided in me that she couldn’t wait to be a wife and a mamma. But . . .”
She hesitated before finishing. If she’d known her sister would marry, then what was the problem? “Of course, I knew she’d marry. But for some reason, I didn’t actually realize the huge void that she’d leave in our house. Our home . . . it’s so quiet now. And there’s no one to help with chores but me.”
She swallowed an emotional knot when John glanced at her. Something about his expression encouraged her to continue to open up.
Before she could go on, he cut in. “You miss having someone to talk to.”
Lydia nodded agreement. “It’s much more than that, John. I miss the laughter. Her presence. Even hearing her sneeze when she picks up cats that stray into our yard.” The thought prompted a laugh.
“My sister loves animals but has bad allergies when she gets near them.”
She breathed in. “I don’t believe I’m saying this, but I even miss her chastising me to pin my hair under my kapp.” With one quick motion, she pointed to her head. Of course, several loose strands had escaped her covering, and she quickly tucked them back underneath.
“But you’ve got your mother to talk to.”
“Jah. That’s different. Anna and I joked around. But the conversations I have with Mamma . . .”
She paused to decide why they differed from her chats with Anna. Finally, she knew. “When Mamma and I talk, our conversations are usually tied to what needs done. Things going on in the church. Marriages. Babies.”
Lydia’s throat constricted with emotion. She tried to swallow the knot, but it remained. “Anna and I . . .”
“You did girl talk.”
Lydia smiled a little at the way he said it. “Girl talk. That’s it. We hit on more personal topics like how many kids we want. How many rooms we’d have in our houses. Even things like how we’d keep up sewing clothes for our children if we had a large family.”
When he glanced at her, the color in his cheeks deepened a bit. “How many kids are we talking?”
Her own cheeks heated up until she was sure they were on fire. When he lifted a curious brow, she replied in a hushed tone that was so shy, it was barely a whisper. “At least ten.”
The corners of his lips lifted into a big grin. He looked straight ahead, but she glimpsed his expression from her peripheral vision. Her verbal admission prompted her to giggle with excitement.
Thoughts of a large clan helped to nix her worry about the Christmas goal with which she struggled.
Her mind stayed on the brood she yearned for more than anything. “I know it sounds like a lot, but I love children! And noise and laughter . . . Every house needs them to be happy. I can’t wait to have little ones chasing each other in a nice big home with lots of bedrooms.”
“I’ll bet you’ll be a good mom.”
Her jaw dropped. Not because she wasn’t sure she’d be a good mamma. But because it surprised her that he’d told her she would be. “You really think so?”
He gave a firm nod. “Absolutely. I can hear your love for children in your voice. And love is the most important prerequisite for being a mom, don’t ya think?”
She considered his question before offering a quick, decisive nod.
As Lydia’s home neared, an uncomfortable knot pinched her chest. And she knew why. She wanted more time with the kind man next to her. In fact, to her own astonishment, she wanted to talk about a lot of things with him.
She liked watching his eyes twinkle. And she enjoyed the soft timbre of his low voice. And, of course, his responses.
“This one, right?” He motioned to the white two-story that had been built by Lydia’s great-grandfather. “Jah.”
The understanding pitch of John’s voice suddenly filled with a tone that was a sweet combination of concern and sensitivity.
Automatically, she folded her arms over her lap.
“I’m sorry about your sister’s move, Lydia. In fact, I can’t imagine the adjustment you must be going through. I know you miss her, but try to see the positive in her move.”
Lydia lifted a skeptical brow, unsure if there was anything good about losing her sister.
“What life throws at us isn’t always what we would choose.” He sat up a little straighter in his seat. “But you’re glad your sister’s happy, right?” He paused. “Besides, you said yourself that you like change.”
Lydia nodded. “Of course. But is it wrong to wish she lived closer?”
“No. Not at all. We always want to be around our loved ones. But when you see each other, just think how special that time together will be.”
Salty moisture stung Lydia’s eyes, and she quickly ran her finger over the tears before they could trickle down her cheek. How she wished Anna and Jacob would move back to Arthur. How she yearned to hold the little ones Lydia was sure they’d have.
She quickly turned in her seat, regarding John with a combination of great hope that he would say something to help her feel better. “What?”
He glanced her way and grinned sympathetically. Automatically, she lowered her gaze to the black mat on the floor and suddenly realized that she’d totally forgotten about her fall. In fact, at that very moment, her ankle felt fine.
Her conversation with John King certainly had helped ease the pain. That rea
lization stunned her, and she drew in a small breath that was surprise combined with relief.
“Christmastime is an emotional season. For everyone, Lydia. The feelings you’re experiencing? You’re not alone. In fact, I’m going through the same thing.”
She lifted an inquisitive brow for him to continue.
“On a different level, though. Last year, my uncle Mervin went to the Lord.”
“I’m so sorry . . .”
“Thank you. But like it or not, losing our loved ones is part of life. Just like births.”
Lydia admitted his correctness. But she still wished her sister hadn’t moved away.
“Uncle Mervin . . .” John paused a moment before continuing. “He was the fun behind our cinnamon roll drive. It’s hard to explain, but he made it so exciting. Before the month of December, he always pumped up the drive, building on the excitement until we couldn’t wait for it to happen.”
“Oh.”
“We’ve done the event for years. And you want to know who started it?”
“Mervin?”
Before Lydia could respond, John offered a big nod. “Yup.” John chuckled. “He was one of those people who wanted to save the world.”
Lydia’s heart warmed at the fondness in John’s voice as he spoke of his uncle. And she knew others who were made from the same mold. She thought immediately of Old Sam Beachy, who was famous for his special hope chests.
“It was his idea to offer what we can to our community. He always stressed using our talents in a way that helped others. And for us?” He stopped to catch his breath. “That was to bake pastries.”
“He must have been a wonderful person, I mean, to start the drive.” She lowered her gaze to the floor before lifting her chin to meet his eyes. “But I understand what you’re saying, John. Doing the drive without him must be hard for you.”
“That’s an understatement. Because I miss him every step of the way. But you know what?”
She lifted a curious brow.
“Since I was little, I always knew that we’re planted on this earth for a short time. Fortunately, what my uncle did for my Lord and Savior was to be a good example for me. To teach me the true meaning of service. And you know what?”
She gave him a nod to continue.
“I’ve thought a lot about that concept. And I’ve sort of come up with my own theory.”
“Jah?”
He wagged a dismissive hand. “Oh, it’s not big deal. Let’s just drop it.”
“No! Now you’ve got me curious. You have to tell me!”
“Well . . . What I’ve decided is that just because someone’s not physically with you doesn’t mean they can’t still play a role in your life. Does that make sense?”
Lydia frowned uncertainty while she contemplated his point and finally offered a slight nod of agreement. “You’ve got a point, John.” Several heartbeats later, she went on. “I won’t disagree.”
“Because it’s true. Even without him here in person, I can feel his presence. For instance, I hear it in a person’s voice when he thanks me for something. Or see it in someone’s eyes. It’s a good feeling. And everything he taught me?”
John gave a small lift of his shoulders. “It’s not wasted just because he’s not here. No, no. In many ways, he passed his goodness on to me, and I have his ideas to help me through life. He was an incredible, positive influence. He always took charge of the drive. He arranged the delivery list; you know, decided the most efficient routes.”
“I’m sorry, John. You must miss him something terrible.”
John nodded. “This season only makes it harder.”
“I know what you mean. Because the same holds true to me. I really miss Anna. John, when she got married, I was so caught up in helping plan the wedding that I never realized how empty the house would feel when she left.”
He nodded.
“After that, loneliness hit me. And it was then that I realized she was gone. That she’d never be in our house again. I mean, not living there.”
“But she visits, right? Holidays?”
“Sure. But it’s not the same. Every time they come, they have to see friends and family. In fact, they’re so busy, it seems like they’re hardly home.”
“I can imagine.”
“Can you?”
He arched a brow.
“I mean, there are twelve of you. Plus your parents.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s funny: even though we’re a large brood, each one of us plays a special role. And even when one of us isn’t around . . .” She shrugged. “I feel it.”
He paused to shake his head regretfully. “With only you left in the house . . .” A long pause ensued until he went on. “That would be unbearable.”
“It is, John. I thought it was bad until Christmas was right around the corner. And now . . .”
She rolled her eyes in disbelief. “Just getting through this month, let alone establishing a goal and seeing it through, will be a bigger challenge than I’ve ever encountered.” The pitch of her voice lowered to a tone that was a combination of desperation and sadness. “I don’t know how I’m going to do it.”
Chapter 2
John frowned with concern. The pitch of Lydia’s voice was a combination of dismay and regret. She honestly was struggling with getting through Christmas. No one should have to do that. After all, wasn’t this the most joyous time of year?
As he eyed her from the side, one thing became clear to him as he strummed nervous fingers against the steering column. He had to do something to help this beautiful girl. And she was lovely. Inside and out.
When she spoke, her eyes lit up with a combination of eagerness and enthusiasm. The soft, excited tone of her voice made him enjoy listening to everything she said. But this kindhearted person beside him . . . she needed his help. And fast.
And the more he listened to her, the more determined he became to ease her troubled mind. But how could he make things better? Bringing her sister back to Illinois certainly was possible. But likely?
He shook his head. Of course, he couldn’t ask Anna and Jacob to return. And even if he did, they most likely wouldn’t. A move across state lines was drastic, especially within the tightly knit Amish community that still got around by horse and buggy.
And if Anna had migrated all the way to Ohio, he was convinced there was a strong reason for it. Apparently, this was one time that change wasn’t welcome to the girl who’d confessed she loved surprises.
And solving Lydia’s dilemma wasn’t possible, but choosing the right words might make her feel better. He thought hard, trying to decide what to say that would lessen the severity of her situation. His deceased uncle’s face popped into his mind. What would you tell her, Uncle Mervin? You were a great decision maker.
Finally, the words came to John. Now, all he had to do was to try them on her and see if they worked. With a subtle movement, he rested his head against the headrest, slowing to stall for time.
“Lydia, I understand your situation so well. And I’m trying to think of how to help you.” He steadied the pitch of his voice to a more apologetic tone. “Believe me, I wish I had the perfect answer, but unfortunately, I don’t.”
He turned to meet the regretful expression on her face. He had to do his best for Lydia. He wasn’t sure why; what he did know was that he had to try. “Most likely, your situation won’t change.”
From his peripheral vision, he noted her frown. “Unfortunately, one of the things we do most here on earth is to try to accept things that are out of our control.”
“But what do you do, John? I know it’s not a perfect world, but how would you deal with my situation? To be honest, this is one time when change doesn’t make me happy.”
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “When I’m faced with any dilemma, the first thing I do is to pray for guidance. Only God knows what will be resolved and what won’t. So we’re obviously happier if we can accept reality, right?”
She o
ffered a slow nod of agreement.
“Are you praying about it?”
“Every night. And unlike bringing your uncle back, with Anna, there is a way to fix things. But to do that, God would have to move her and her husband back here. And then his family would be the ones who missed them. You see, Jacob’s family is in Ohio. So is his business.”
As he absorbed the significance of her words, he watched the helpless lift of her shoulders. And he fully understood what she was up against.
“So to be honest, I don’t see a move back to Illinois in the future.”
“Maybe not. Think about it, though. If his family’s out of state, and hers in Illinois, they can’t live in both places. His business is in Ohio. So Ohio won out. But Lydia, don’t be discouraged. Your sister’s move is recent. It’ll take time to accept and figure out how to deal with her being away.”
He turned into the Schultz drive. As the smoke from the fire pit morphed into the cold, brisk air, she looked directly in front of her.
She glimpsed flames in their living room fireplace. Saw the horses standing still in the fenced-in pasture. But the familiar scene in front of her soon became nothing more than a blur as she absorbed what her new friend had told her.
Suddenly, she was a bit ashamed that she’d poured out her sadness to someone she’d just met. He’d been generous enough to offer her a ride. She should have spent their brief time together trying to help him with his dilemma. Instead, she’d selfishly poured out her own problems.
She turned and softened her voice. “I’m sorry, John. I apologize.”
His dark brows narrowed. “For what?”
“I didn’t mean to complain.”
John barely heard her. Because something nagged at him. And it wasn’t that Lydia had had her say. It was because he was about to tell this girl good-bye.
While loose gravel crunch crunched under the wheels, John bounced in his seat. The unevenness of the ride was a sharp contrast to the smoothness of the blacktop.
The Amish Christmas Candle Page 19
