A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series)

by Chapman, Vannetta

  “Seems so.” Her dat smiled and reached for more butter before her mamm returned.

  “I don’t understand why they want me to draw a picture for their postcards,” Grace said. They had dropped Sadie off at her home and were almost at the cabins.

  “They need to advertise, and the best way to convince people to spend a night there would be with a picture.”

  “A picture I’m supposed to draw?”

  Miriam smiled and patted her hand. “Lydia and Aaron have seen your drawing. They think it’s very gut.”

  “They could hire someone.”

  “Yes, but that would cost more money, and they’re trying to save money to help Elizabeth and her girls.”

  “Because the girls’ dat died.”

  “Yes.”

  “Like my mamm—my first mamm.”

  “Yes.”

  Grace considered that a moment, as Belle trotted down the road. She certainly wanted to help however she could. She was only nine, so it was a little surprising that anyone thought she could help.

  “Do I know Elizabeth or her dochdern?”

  “You might have seen the family in town or at one of the benefit auctions, but they go to the church on the west side of the district.”

  “Bishop Atlee’s church.”

  “Correct.”

  Grace reached down and handed Rachel one of her baby toys, one of the rattles Rae had given them. They were curious toys, but Rachel seemed to like them. This one was soft and quilted with a pig’s head. The pig was smiling and had a pink polka dot body. Rachel shook it twice, attempted to put it in her mouth, and dropped it.

  “Of course I’ll help, but I’m not sure what they want.”

  “Aaron will tell you.” Miriam reached over and patted her knee. “I think you’re going to be surprised when you see the cabins.”

  “Has he cut down more bushes?” Grace frowned. She had rather liked the overgrown look.

  “Everyone’s worked hard all week. Even your mammi has become involved.”

  “How—”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I thought she was sick.”

  “Ya. But there’s no stopping my mother when she sets her mind to something—”

  “Mamm.” Grace sat up straighter in her seat as they neared the parking area of the cabins, trying to see over Belle’s ears, which were ridiculously tall.

  “Hmm?”

  “There are Englisch cars here.”

  “Of course there are cars. The idea is to rent the cabins, and they’re usually rented to Englischers who drive cars.”

  “But there are four of them. Have they rented out four of the cabins?”

  “They have now, and they hope with your drawing and the postcards they’ll be mailing that they’ll soon rent out all of them.”

  Grace was more than a little surprised at all of the changes. The office didn’t even look like the same place. It looked like a real store! Shelves lined one wall and were filled with all types of baskets, assorted jams and jellies, packages of homemade noodles, and baked goods from Lydia’s mother. There were also Amish dresses and kapps for young girls and babies. Why would Englischers want to buy those?

  She had to step around two small Englisch children and their mother to see the items in the toy section, which were stunning. The items lined up on the shelves included dolls, beginner sewing items, and plenty of wooden horses, buggies, and animals.

  Quilted items of every sort took up another part of the shelves—everything from table runners to hot pads. Then there were the quilts—bed quilts, lap quilts, and baby quilts. She also recognized mammi Abigail’s knitted blankets among the baby items. A grossmammi who reminded her of her mammi Erma back in Indiana was holding one of the blankets.

  “Do you know how to knit?” the gray-headed woman asked, peering over her small glasses.

  “Nein, but I can quilt a little. I’m not very gut yet.” She stepped closer and touched the blue-and-yellow knitted blanket the woman was holding. “My mammi made that.”

  “She did?” The woman reached out wrinkled fingers and patted her hand. “Please tell her she did a very nice job. I used to knit, but now arthritis makes my hands cramp too badly. This will make a lovely gift for my great-grandchild.”

  Grace nodded, glancing over at Lydia, who was wrapping up someone’s purchase. The place was certainly busy—nothing like what she’d seen on her first visit.

  Careful not to knock anything over, Grace made her way out of the crowded room to the front porch of the office.

  The front porch.

  It had been a vacant, lonely porch, but now it was covered with places to sit. An old man lounged in a bent hickory rocking chair. He was probably waiting on the grossmammi inside. While he waited, he was trying to coax an orange cat over to his side, but the cat was having nothing to do with him.

  Lydia had said the cat’s name was Pumpkin. He was a stray that had shown up after the rains stopped and certainly looked as if he needed a home. His right ear was nicked off at the top, and his tail took a sharp turn before it reached the end.

  Pumpkin sat winking at them both, feet tucked underneath, a look of utter contentment on his face.

  The porch reached all the way across the front of the office building. Grace had barely noticed it before, but she noticed it now. It was filled with all different types of places to sit—large rocking chairs, double rocking chairs, small children’s rocking chairs, and a “Welcome Friends” bench. In between the chairs were baskets with flowers in them.

  Grace walked slowly up and down the length of the porch, but she didn’t stay. She needed to move off a ways. She needed to find some distance.

  Stepping into the sunshine, Grace barely heard what Aaron said to her. Something about letting him know if she needed anything. When she’d first arrived, he’d offered her a cold drink, and he’d given her a blank postcard so she’d know what size to make the drawing. She carried the blank card on top of her drawing supplies, clutched to her chest as she stepped off the front porch.

  Aaron was carrying lumber over to a shed they were building. Grace thought it was a good idea, and she hoped it didn’t take him and Seth very long to finish. If they put one more item for sale in the office, Lydia and the customers would have to stand outside.

  With some effort she pushed the inside of the office out of her mind. She didn’t need any of the things in there.

  All she needed was a little time and the right light. She’d already found the picture she wanted to draw.

  When she glanced up, the grossdaddi was beginning to doze in the rocker and Pumpkin hadn’t moved at all. She could just make out the waters of Pebble Creek, hurrying by in the background. Everything was right where it should be.

  Chapter 21

  Lydia stepped outside, looking for Grace, about an hour later. The check-out rush had finally ended and the check-in rush hadn’t yet begun. She was surprised she recognized what a crowd looked like. It had been several years since they’d had four of the cabins occupied at once. Several years since they’d had four reservations and the people had actually stayed.

  How had people heard? How had word spread so quickly?

  She glanced over to where Aaron and Seth had framed the Plain Shop. It looked good. Aaron had good ideas, including sprucing up cabins two, seven, and eight. She’d had to hurry to prepare cabin four when the last-minute reservation had called in. Luckily, they’d had plenty of extra goods in the shop to put a new quilt on the bed, a new rug on the floor, and a rocking chair on the porch.

  Now, as she dropped down into the grass beside Grace and looked around, she forced herself to let go of some of the resentment she’d been harboring against Aaron. Change was hard for her, but the changes he’d made had worked for the cabins, and they would produce income for Elizabeth and her children.

  “Do you like having so many people here?” Grace didn’t look up but merely kept drawing.

  “I suppose there are gut and bad s
ides to that.”

  “The bad…”

  “Is that there is more work and less time for me to enjoy the quiet and peacefulness of the creek.”

  “And the gut?”

  “We can pay our bills, stay open, and I still have a job.” There was more to it than that, but Lydia wasn’t sure she could explain it to a nine-year-old. She wasn’t sure she could have explained it to herself. It had to do with the sense that Gotte wanted her to share this place with others—Amish and Englisch. Hadn’t that been Ervin’s dream? Deep inside her heart she understood that this little tranquil corner along Pebble Creek was a special place, and it would be wrong to keep it private, no matter how tempting that idea was.

  Grace put her pencil back in her box and closed her tablet. “It’s nice having sweet old couples on the porch, and seeing kinner running on the grass. They make the place look less lost, but I also liked it how it was before, all overgrown and wild looking.”

  “Ya. There was a certain charm to that.”

  “Wild is nice because you never know what will pop out from behind a bush. Maybe a black bear—”

  “Very unlikely.”

  “Or a coyote.”

  “More frequent in the northern part of the state.”

  Grace turned and stared at her, causing Lydia to smile. She’d never thought much about having kids. A house, yes. She longed for her own home, but she’d always been surrounded by so many siblings that children had never been on the top of her list. Grace had a way of creeping into her heart, though, making her reconsider.

  “How do you know so much about animals?”

  “My dat taught me a lot before he became so sick with farmer’s lung. And with business being slow here lately, I’ve had plenty of time to read and watch.”

  “The creek passes through our place too, but the fields go right down to it. Here it’s different. What kind of animals did you see in the woods and along the creek, before Aaron trimmed everything back?”

  “Oh, I’ve seen quite a few bats, which are gut for eating insects. You can see those right before dark when they go hunting for food. Also plenty of deer, but I’m sure you have those on your land.”

  “A few, but they frighten easily.”

  “If you’re quiet, if you move slowly, they’ll let you watch them. Also you might catch sight of a red or gray fox.”

  “I’ve heard you have mink, muskrat, and opossum as well.” Aaron settled into the grass beside Grace, and Seth sat between Aaron and Lydia, making a circle of sorts.

  “Ya. All of those,” Seth said. “We don’t have the creek on our place, but it goes through the spot where our school is built. I’ve also seen rabbits, raccoons, skunks, and flying squirrels.”

  “Squirrels don’t fly,” Grace said, shaking her head until her kapp strings looked as if they might take off.

  “They glide from tree to tree,” Seth explained. “Rather like a kite.”

  “Do you think the animals will all go away now that you have guests?” Grace asked Aaron.

  “Of course not.” He leaned back in the grass. “The woods stretch out around this place and across the river. As long as we respect their habitat, there’s no reason for them to leave.”

  Lydia couldn’t help returning Aaron’s smile. Grace had looked so worried, but now relief washed over her face like sunshine blessing a field first thing in the morning.

  “I finished your drawing.” Grace popped up as she pulled the piece of drawing paper from her tablet and dropped it in Aaron’s hands. “Will that work?”

  Lydia scooted over into Grace’s spot next to Aaron. They both stared down at the four-by-five drawing of the front porch of the office.

  Raising their heads to glance back over their shoulders at the actual porch, their eyes met. A delicious shiver crept down Lydia’s spine, but she ignored it and focused again on the drawing.

  Seth let out a whistle. “Nice doodling, Grace. Where did you learn to do that?”

  “I’m not sure.” Grace shuffled from one foot to another. “Do you need another?”

  “No, Grace. This will work fine. Danki. You did a wunderbaar job.”

  “Gut. If my mamm comes looking for me, I’ll be down at the river, watching for flying squirrels.” She took off skipping, tablet and pencils tucked in her arms, never bothering to look back.

  Aaron handed the postcard to Miriam as she walked up and joined them. “Do you think she has any idea how gut this is?”

  “No,” Miriam said. “She’s a child, doing what she enjoys.”

  Seth stood and stretched. “I think Lydia is going to be writing out a lot of postcards. If you’re done working me like a mule, I’ll be headed home to finish my chores there.”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled over to the barn, in a much better mood than he had been when he’d first shown up, grumbling and unloading lumber so loudly Lydia had thought she was going to have to take her broom after him.

  “It’s better than I expected,” Aaron confessed.

  “She even included Pumpkin.” Lydia took the drawing from Miriam, holding it up so she could scrutinize the details more closely.

  Miriam settled in the grass beside her, Rachel in her arms. They studied the drawing together.

  Grace had captured more than the front porch of the office. She’d included the rockers, the bench, and even the old man dozing, though you couldn’t make out his face because he was in the shadows. What you could make out was his hand, aged worn and resting on the arm of the hickory rocker. Pumpkin sat in the sun, watching him. The words “Plain Cabins at Pebble Creek” stretched over the top of the porch. Running along the back bottom corner, sparkling as if the sun was glinting off it, was the water of Pebble Creek.

  How had she done that with only her pencils?

  Lydia felt proud of Grace, and she knew pride was something she was to avoid. The girl’s work was good, though. God had blessed her with a special ability. One look at Miriam’s face and Aaron’s expression told her they realized it too.

  This drawing could help them.

  If they followed Aaron’s plan and had it printed on the front of note cards, and sent it out among the Englisch, it could possibly work.

  She would certainly visit the place Grace had drawn.

  It looked like a place where she could curl up and rest, a place that could restore your soul. It looked like a place of grace.

  Gabe stepped into the sitting room, looking for Miriam. The fire was banked in the stove and a lantern was lit on the table, but no wife.

  Both Grace and Rachel were asleep.

  Everyone had finished with their baths and were ready for Sunday service the next morning. He’d rocked Rachel after Miriam had finished nursing the babe so she could have a few moments of rest alone.

  Where was she?

  He stood in the middle of the room, circling like a pony attached to a rope. The house wasn’t so large that he couldn’t see into the kitchen, which was empty, or down the hall, which was dark. Finally he noticed that the front door was cracked.

  He pulled a lap quilt off the couch and grabbed a plate of cookies from the kitchen. What was he forgetting? Milk! Cookies without milk were no good at all. He snuck back into the kitchen, poured a tall glass they could share, and moved back across the sitting room as quietly as possible. Waking Rachel up at this point would be a disaster. His arms full, he nudged the door wide open with his toe.

  There she was.

  His Miriam, standing with her back to him, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, gazing up at the stars.

  He pushed through the screen door, a witty remark on his tongue, just as she turned toward him, and his romantic plans came to a screeching halt.

  Even in the little amount of light that came from the front room he could see the redness around her eyes and that her nose was still running a bit from her crying.

  “I found you,” he said softly.

  “You found me.” Her voice sounded as if it had been rubbe
d with the sandpaper David used on his toys.

  “Come and sit in the swing. I have a blanket—”

  “It’s a quilt.”

  “And cookies—”

  “Oh, Gabe. Those were for church tomorrow.”

  “No one will miss these cookies at church. We’ll only eat a few. And I also have milk to ease your throat.”

  She sipped the milk before pushing it back into his hands, but she did curl up into the crook of his arm as they sank back against the old wood and he set the swing into motion.

  “Still worried about your mamm?”

  Miriam nodded as she rubbed her nose against his shirt. “There was no message from Doc Hanson at the phone shack. I checked on the way back from the cabins.”

  “Ah. So that’s the reason for your tears.”

  “Shouldn’t we have heard by now?”

  “I don’t know, mi lieb. I don’t understand much about doctors and tests and such.”

  Miriam picked at the quilt he’d wrapped around their shoulders. The night was pleasant, but a quilt was always good for snuggling or settling a woman when she was weeping.

  “But you have been through this, when Hope was sick.”

  His wife’s body felt almost foreign next to him—all tense muscle and bone. All fear. He rubbed her arm and kissed the top of her head. “Ya. I do remember that. Would it help you if I told you about it?”

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  Gabe understood this was one of those turning points in a man’s marriage. How he knew it, he wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the way he felt Miriam peering up at him in the dark.

  “Of course I don’t mind. We can speak of anything, Miriam. If it will help your fears, I want to talk about it.”

  “But if remembering hurts you…”

  “There was a time when it did. Now it’s almost as if the pain happened to someone else, though the gut memories are still mine.”

  For the next hour, he told her how quickly the ovarian cancer had claimed his first wife. How her menstrual cycle had changed and she’d finally become concerned and gone to the doctor. He’d found the mass in her ovaries. By the time they did the surgery to biopsy it, the cancer had spread.