A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series)

by Chapman, Vannetta

  “Oh.” Lydia gazed down at the table as her cheeks turned a rosy pink. “Danki.”

  As if she finally understood why he was standing in front of her table, she added, “Did you want some of the apple pie?”

  “Nein. I already had dessert—twice, while you were refilling drinks.” He patted his stomach uncomfortably. “Couldn’t fit another bite.”

  She pulled her kapp strings to the front, her brow furrowed, and finally asked, “Then why are you here?”

  “Ya, well, David wanted me to pick him up some coal…I mean, cookies.” He glanced down at the cookie plate, which held only crumbs, and shook his head.

  This wasn’t going well. Why did he feel so awkward? They worked well together at the cabins, but now he was tripping over words and forgetting what he meant to say. “Also…I was wondering if you’d like to go for a walk and see Nathan’s new calves.”

  He thought she would say no. She was still gawking at him as if he’d sprouted red hair, but at that moment her mother walked up. “What a gut suggestion, Aaron. I was just saying to Lydia that she should get away from this table. She even stood here as she ate her lunch. A little exercise would be a wunderbaar idea.”

  Lydia stared at them both in disbelief, but she didn’t argue with Ella Fisher. Aaron smiled his thanks as they walked off toward the pasture behind Nathan’s barn.

  “I apologize if I embarrassed you in front of your mamm. I thought it would be nice to talk, you know…when we’re away from work.”

  “It’s okay. Mamm jumps at any chance to throw me into a buggy ride with an eligible Amish male. You’ll have to be careful around her, or she’ll be having you over for dinner and plying you with shoofly pie.”

  “I wouldn’t mind that. I love shoofly pie, and pumpkin pie, and even peach cream pie. I have something of a weakness for dessert—or dinner, for that matter. Truth is, I’ve been missing my mamm’s cooking since I’ve been here.”

  “Don’t say yes if she invites you over to eat. It would be better if I smuggled you food. Coming to dinner would encourage her matchmaking tendencies. She’ll think you’re interested, and that’s a road you don’t want to start down with her.”

  Aaron laughed out loud, causing some of the young kinner to turn and stare at them. “Your mamm loves you. She’s no different than any other parent.”

  “Is that how you see it?” Lydia threw her arms over the fence and stared down at the week-old spotted calves.

  “Ya. How do you see it?”

  Lydia took her time answering, focusing instead on choosing the right weed to pull from the grasses growing by the fence.

  “Lydia?”

  “It’s not as if I think they want to be rid of me. It’s only that…” She turned away from the calves, leaned back against the metal fencing, and wrapped her arms around her stomach as she studied the group of adults still assembled under the stand of trees. “They worry I’ll be an old maid.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-two, but you know how it is with Plain folk. Don’t pretend you don’t understand.” She pierced him with those brown eyes he thought about first thing when he woke each morning, and while he was chopping wood for the cabins, and after she’d gone home at night.

  “Ya. I know what you mean, but your parents seem reasonable.”

  “They are, but my family situation is—different.”

  “Because of your daed.”

  She frowned, turned around, and began to walk the length of the pasture, as if she was suddenly interested in following the calves, who were following the cows. “I don’t believe you know much about my family situation, Aaron Troyer.”

  “I met your father before the service this morning. I can tell that people respect him and like him.” When Lydia didn’t say anything, only crouched so that she could put her hand through the fence railing and reach to pet one of the calves, Aaron squatted with her. “Why didn’t you tell me, Lydia? Why didn’t you explain to me that he’s ill?”

  She jumped up faster than a bull bolting when he’d been spooked by a snake. “I don’t need your pity, Aaron. If that’s why you asked me to take a walk, you can go back to your table and back to your apple pie.”

  He hesitated, and then he allowed a smile to slowly spread across his face. “I told you. I asked you because you look pretty in that dress…pretty as apple pie.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes, but her anger evaporated. “Ya. If I remember right you also asked for some coal—”

  “Cookies.”

  “Whatever.”

  She turned her back to him and continued walking down the fence line, but not before he saw a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. He couldn’t leave it like that, though, with the barest hint of a smile. He wanted to chase that worried look completely off Lydia’s face. He enjoyed making her happy. Enjoyed it more than apple or shoofly pie.

  “I know you don’t need my pity, Lydia. I’m not offering pity, but you’re practically the first person I met when I came here. We work together every day. I’m trying to figure why you never mentioned that your father is so ill he’s not able to work. Why did you never mention that you’re having to carry the burden of helping to bring home the money to raise four other children?”

  “Five.”

  “There are five?”

  Lydia ticked them off on her fingers. “Clara, Martha, Amanda, Sally Ann, and Stephen.”

  “I missed Stephen. Hard to keep all these Amish kids straight. They all look the same.”

  Lydia threw the handful of weeds she’d pulled at him, but Aaron dodged right and most of them dropped to the ground.

  “Got you.”

  “You did?”

  “Ya.” She stepped closer, reached up and pulled a piece of timothy grass from his hair.

  Aaron thought to touch her face. He was about to raise his hand and tuck the strings to her prayer kapp back out of the way when she turned. “We should go back. My dat will be tired and needing to go home.”

  He put his hands in his pockets and fell into step beside her.

  On the way back they talked of Menno’s condition. Aaron had heard of farmer’s lung, but he’d never known anyone who actually had it. Lydia spoke matter-of-factly, as if she were describing the breakfast of muffins and fruit she’d left in the cabins for their guests.

  He wasn’t fooled, though. He’d seen the way she’d stared at her father during the church service. Her expression of concern had drawn his attention from the sermon, or maybe it had focused him more on the pastor’s words. “Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another, for whoever loves others has fulfilled the law.” The words from the book of Romans were barely out of the pastor’s mouth when Aaron had noticed the worry on Lydia’s face and seen her eyes locked on Menno.

  Aaron didn’t owe anyone anything, so that part of the Scripture he’d followed, but had he loved others as the Bible taught? He wasn’t so sure.

  And what of Lydia?

  She kept herself apart, and he wanted to know why.

  As she explained about her father’s condition, he began to understand some. Who had time to socialize when she was working a job, taking care of her siblings, and caring for her parents?

  And to think he’d popped out of bed that morning, patting himself on the back for what he’d accomplished.

  Lydia’s problems outweighed his by more than a bushel. Not that he didn’t have problems of his own. His hands were full taking care of Elizabeth and all his cousins.

  Still, he and Lydia were friends, and friends loved one another.

  Not to mention, she did look pretty in that dress.

  Chapter 24

  Lydia could tell right away that Tuesday morning was not going to go as smoothly as Monday had.

  On Monday morning the last of their guests had left after promising to encourage their friends to come and visit the new and improved cabins along the banks of Pebble Creek. Aaron had agreed to continue with Ervin’s pol
icy of not accepting reservations on Monday evening. This allowed them time to do any repairs to cabins and also gave everyone a break from tripping over Englischers.

  Lydia had spent the day cleaning the four cabins while Aaron and Seth finished the Plain Shop. The day had been quiet and productive. Finally their work had found a steady, easy rhythm.

  And then Aaron had asked her if Clara could come in to work for a few days. He was probably trying to be helpful. Or perhaps her mother had mentioned it to him on Sunday.

  Regardless how the topic came to his attention, Lydia couldn’t actually lie about it, not that she would have. So she went home Monday night with the blessed news. Her sister had jumped at the chance, and so Lydia’s quiet morning ride to work had been ruined. That was the first thing to go wrong on Tuesday. Things didn’t improve once they were settled in the office.

  “I have to write the same thing on every card?” Clara stared at the boxes stacked next to her chair. “There must be thousands of them.”

  “Two thousand five hundred to be exact. And Aaron isn’t paying you to stare at them, so get started.” Lydia was already twenty minutes later than she liked to be, thanks to Clara’s need to primp in front of their one mirror. You’d think she was going to a singing instead of to work.

  “How did he have these printed so fast?” Clara ran her finger over the penciled drawing of the office on the front of the card. “I thought Grace drew it on Saturday.”

  “Ya, she did. There’s a place in Cashton that is open on Sunday. Aaron dropped it off on Saturday before they closed, and it was ready yesterday afternoon. They call it their forty-eight-hour guarantee.”

  “But why didn’t he have both sides printed?”

  “Because it would have cost twice as much,” Aaron said, stepping inside the office. “Also, I think a handwritten note is a nice personal touch. Don’t you, Lydia?”

  “Nice touch if it gets done.”

  “What a wunderbaar idea, Aaron.” Clara stood and ran her hand down the length of her apron. “I wish my schweschder had taken the time to explain your reasoning to me. I totally understand what you want now.”

  “You don’t need to understand your employer’s reasoning.” Lydia whacked at a fly with a rolled-up piece of newspaper. “What you need to do is your assigned work.”

  Lydia could have sworn she saw Aaron hide a laugh as he stuffed a piece of her mamm’s raisin bread into his mouth.

  “I’ll hang more bags of water to draw the flies out to the porch. Seth will be here at lunch, and we’re going to begin working on a fishing pier.”

  “Seth King?” Clara had written the first postcard. At the sound of Seth’s name, her pen slid across the note.

  “Ya, Clara. Seth King, and you’ll be owing Aaron ten cents out of your pay for that card you ruined.”

  Clara glanced down at the postcard and frowned, as if it had offended her in some way. Sighing dramatically, she dropped it into the wastebasket.

  “If you need me, I’ll be spending the morning working on the path along the river.” Aaron picked up two Ziploc bags and filled them with water, added a few drops of oil, sealed them shut, and started for the front porch. Remembering what else he needed, he turned and snagged another piece of bread before he walked outside into the morning sunshine.

  There was the sound of a hammer on a tack as he nailed the bags of water to the tops of the windowsills on the porch.

  “Does that actually work to keep the flies away?” Clara asked her sister.

  “Better than a newspaper. Not to mention I have other things to do.”

  “Helping me with postcards?”

  “Nope. I’m stocking the Plain Shop.”

  “That sounds fun!” Clara practically bounced out of her seat.

  “Nein. If we don’t have guests staying here, no one will be purchasing the goods I’m moving over to the shop.”

  “I thought you said we had reservations every night.”

  Lydia had to smile at the pout, which reminded her of the young sister she once walked to school. Clara’s use of the word “we” also amused her. After all, she’d been on the job less than an hour.

  “True. We do have reservations every night, but only a few, and we need the cabins to be full, or so Aaron says. I have no idea how we’ll handle so many Englischers and their kinner.” Lydia filled her arms with quilts, leaving one—the best one, in her opinion—on the quilt rack. They had decided to leave one item of everything for sale in the office, with a sign pointing to the Plain Shop.

  “Where did you find this many addresses?”

  “Ervin never threw away anything. We have records of guest information going back to the day he opened the cabins.”

  “Great. I imagine you have enough for all of these cards.”

  “At least.” Lydia could barely see over the stack of quilts in her arms. “Look at it this way. As long as there are cards, you have a job.”

  Clara squirreled up her nose. “Can I have a break after I do fifty?”

  “Sure. By that time I’ll need help sweeping porches for tonight’s guests.”

  Lydia should have felt some guilt for the way she was treating Clara. She didn’t, but she experienced a twang of remorse that she didn’t, which had to count for something.

  Carrying the quilts to the shop, she inhaled deeply as soon as she stepped inside. The smell of fresh-cut lumber had always held a certain appeal to her. Maybe because it spoke to those dreams of a home of her own.

  Which was silly.

  Most young Amish couples did not move into a brand-new house. They usually moved into a rented house in the beginning, or sometimes into a home that a relative no longer needed. Occasionally, the young man had saved up enough to purchase a place, but in those cases it was rarely a new place.

  As Lydia shook out the quilts and displayed them on the dowels Aaron and Seth had fastened to the wall the day before, she allowed herself to take a side trip down the daydream trail she usually avoided—the one where she had been courted by a boy, they’d planned their wedding, and they were moving into a home of their own.

  Any home would do. A place where any decisions made would be theirs.

  One close to family, but with a measure of privacy. Perhaps it would have enough room for children—a few. They would have to add on eventually. She would have a garden out back which she would dote over in the spring and sweat over in the summer. But the fall? The fall would be the time of harvest.

  Standing back, she gave the quilts on the dowels a once-over. Quilts on a wall looked strange to her, but these did display well—the simple patterns and green, blue, and black fabric stood out nicely against the unadorned walls.

  The quilts she’d sewn, the ones at home in the blanket chest in her room, might not compare in workmanship, but in dreams stitched within their seams? Prayers quilted within their layers?

  Ya. She thought her quilts compared nicely.

  By the time Clara joined her in the Plain Shop, Lydia had moved over all of the hand-sewn and treadle-sewn items, the toys David had made, and half of the canned preserves.

  “You didn’t bring anything with you?”

  “I wasn’t sure I could hold anything. My hands are cramping after writing fifty cards.” Clara held out her right forefinger for inspection. “Look! A blister—”

  “Tsk, tsk. I thought you were made of tougher stuff, schweschder. Band-Aids are in my desk drawer. Let’s go fetch you one.”

  “I like the way this shop looks. It’s hard to believe they built it so quickly. And only Aaron and Seth worked on it?” Clara walked around the room, running her hand along the shelves.

  “Ya. They worked on it Saturday and yesterday. I suppose they have both participated in enough barn raisings to know how to put up a single room quickly.”

  Lydia started toward the door, but Clara wasn’t finished. She sat in one of the rockers Aaron had placed in a corner of the small room. “I know Seth King, but I don’t know him well. He’s about
my age, right?”

  “Ya.”

  “Remind me what he looks like.” There was a twinkle in her sister’s eye that suggested she knew very well what Seth King looked like. Seth was a year older, and therefore had been out of school a year longer than Clara. Maybe she’d forgotten what he looked like, but that was doubtful. No doubt Clara saw him at the church services and even at the evening singings, unless Seth didn’t attend those. Maybe Seth was a loner. Clara seemed to enjoy the various activities the group of young people found to do.

  Young people? Four, five, maybe six years younger than she was. The way she thought of them made her feel as if she were ready for a grossmammi house.

  “Well, what does he look like?” Clara asked.

  Lydia decided to play along.

  “Let me see. ’Bout this high.” Lydia reached above her head four inches or so, until she thought she’d reached around five foot, ten inches. “Sandy brown hair and thin. He’s David’s son, and David is Miriam’s bruder. Bad attitude at least half the time.”

  “Hmm. Bad attitude could describe several of the boys I know. They usually grow out of it. I’m still having trouble placing him.”

  “I bet you saw him at the singing you went to the other night.”

  “Nein. Seth doesn’t go to singings.” Clara clapped her hand over her mouth as if she’d given herself away.

  “Don’t remember him, huh?”

  Clara shook her head, as if something didn’t make sense.

  “Question?”

  “Why is he doing this? Helping out here?”

  “I think he’s working afternoons to get some time away from his father. Like you, he’s going through his rumspringa.”

  “I am not!” Clara’s face blushed a bright red.

  “What about that cell phone you keep in the barn?”

  “Lydia!”

  “Thought I didn’t know, huh?” Lydia turned and started out of the shop.

  “I hardly ever use it. Only to call the girls but never boys. And I don’t bring it in the house.” In Clara’s rush to catch up with Lydia, she bumped into the back of her sister.

  “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” Lydia was staring toward the river at their boss. She needed to talk with him. “If the injury to your finger can wait, let’s walk down to the creek and see who’s speaking with Aaron. Unless you’d rather get back to your postcards.”