A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series)

by Chapman, Vannetta

  “He’s used to working with Amish folk,” Miriam said as she stood and gathered her things.

  “Roger’s grandmother was Mennonite. He grew up in the Mennonite church but is now Presbyterian.” Abigail glanced at Rachel but did not move any closer.

  “You can hold her now, ya?”

  “I suppose, but why chance it? No telling what I touched back there. I will be very grateful when this week is up and I can hold that sweet baby again. I miss her already.”

  Miriam glanced over Abigail’s head and saw the way her father’s eyes took in his wife and his granddaughter. Her too, she supposed.

  Three generations joined together.

  Life was fragile, there was no doubt about it, but love was strong. She was so grateful they were together, that they could follow Roger’s directions and care for Abigail—that odds were that Abigail would recover just fine.

  More importantly, as they walked from the hospital out into the May sunshine, Miriam felt the strength coming from the understanding that their family had a history both tall and wide. It was a history filled with others who would stand in and offer their hands to help, their hearts to love, and their voices to lift up prayers on their behalf.

  Her fears relieved, she followed behind her parents, as she held her baby because her mother couldn’t or wouldn’t. She finally had a peace in knowing that whatever the outcome, God’s grace would be sufficient.

  Chapter 31

  Lydia stared out over the front of Tin Star as she drove her buggy next to Seth’s. It wasn’t odd for Seth to leave at the same time she and Clara did, but it was odd for Aaron to be climbing up into Seth’s buggy alone. What was even more shocking was what he had just said.

  “You’re doing what?” she asked. She’d heard him, clear as day, but she was hoping his answer might change if he repeated it.

  “I’m following you home.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Aaron studied her a minute before securing the reins to his horse and hopping out of the buggy. When he was standing beside hers, he said, “I should have talked to you earlier, but today was—”

  “Brutal, narrisch, exhausting?”

  “All of those things, so I didn’t have the chance.” He looked past her, over her shoulder to Clara—who was making no attempt to hide the fact that she was listening to every word. “Lydia, I need to speak with your parents.”

  “What?” Lydia’s heart thundered in her chest so loudly she feared Tin Star would hear it and grow spooked. The day had been draining on so many different levels. Her emotions had run in too many different directions from the moment she’d discovered the burglary through Aaron showing up, walking up to her, and showing such concern, to Gabe bringing Grace’s drawing. Now Aaron wanted to go to her home?

  She wasn’t ready for this. Not today.

  “You can’t.”

  “Lydia—” Clara leaned forward.

  “Stay out of our conversation.” Lydia pushed her sister back to her side of the buggy and then she returned her attention to Aaron. “My parents…well, there are things I’m not ready to explain. Tonight wouldn’t be gut.”

  Aaron stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I won’t stay long, but I will see your mamm and dat tonight. I’ve borrowed Seth’s buggy, and I’m following you home, so it’s best we start and get this over with.”

  Lydia felt her temper spike at Aaron’s words. What right did he have? She hadn’t invited him. She didn’t want him in her house, and she couldn’t tell him why. So he knew about her dat’s illness. He didn’t know about their poverty. He didn’t know how they lived—a family of eight in a home built for four. He didn’t know about all they’d lost and how they had adjusted. He didn’t know and she couldn’t explain it to him today of all days.

  Instead, she forced all emotion from her voice and wiped all expression from her face. “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  “I hope you won’t be expecting supper.”

  Rather than grow angry with her, she thought he was going to reach up and touch her. What was with him today? “Of course not. I wouldn’t invite myself to dinner, Lydia.”

  She nodded but didn’t move. She just sat there and waited for him to walk away from Tin Star. When he finally did, she set her gelding to a trot.

  “Why were you so rude to him?”

  “Because he’s never been to our home. He doesn’t realize how truly sick dat is. He’s seen him at church meeting, but never when he’s very ill, and he hasn’t seen where we live—how we live.”

  “Are you embarrassed of our home?”

  “The last thing I need is his pity!” The confession released some of the pressure from her chest. As they traveled down the road, Lydia allowed the motion of the buggy to calm her. Clara wisely remained quiet, waiting until they were well on their way before chirping up.

  “Do you think he wants to talk to dat about our bruder?”

  “I couldn’t begin to guess what he wants to say to our parents, but if you know anything about where Stephen was last night, it’s best you tell me now.”

  Clara chewed on her thumbnail and stared out of the buggy for the space of a dozen heart beats.

  “Clara?”

  “I don’t know for sure.”

  “But you have an idea.”

  “He runs with the older boys sometimes.”

  “Which older boys?”

  Clara reeled off a few names, including Seth’s. Some of them were Amish, some Englisch. A few of them Lydia knew, but many of them she didn’t.

  “Some of those boys have taken to drinking, ya? And I think I heard one or two of them have even been caught using drugs.”

  “I think those are rumors, Lydia. Stephen would never be involved in such a thing.”

  “Let’s hope so. For our bruder’s sake, let’s hope so.”

  When they reached the house, Lydia was relieved to see that Stephen was home to take care of Tin Star. Aaron said he’d only be staying a little while, and left Seth’s horse and buggy in the shade.

  Lydia found her parents where they always were in the late afternoon—in the sitting room, her mother near her father in case he needed her. Menno had the Budget open across his lap and Ella had her sewing basket near her, completing some darning in the last of the afternoon’s light coming through the large window. Her younger sisters were attending to chores outside, though they peeked around the corner, giggling, when they saw Aaron.

  Her parents had met Aaron at the last church gathering, and he quickly apologized for showing up uninvited.

  “It’s no problem at all,” Ella said. “Please, stay and eat with us.”

  “I can’t. Seth will be waiting for his buggy.”

  “All right. Clara, I’ve started dinner. Would you be a dear and see to finishing it?”

  Clara would have never done this if Lydia had asked, not at home, and not after working at the cabins all day. But she smiled sweetly in Aaron’s direction and left the room.

  Menno passed the newspaper to his wife, who folded it and set it aside.

  “The reason I stopped by today is that I assumed you both would have heard what happened at the cabins.”

  “You mean about the burglary,” Ella murmured. “A terrible thing.”

  “Yes, and that Lydia and Clara were the first ones to find this out.” Aaron’s eyes sought and found Lydia’s. She wondered again what he was thinking and why he was here. At that moment Amanda and Martha ran past one of the windows, chasing a squealing piglet that had escaped from its pen.

  Lydia wanted to curl up and die.

  As if it wasn’t bad enough for Aaron to see how small her house was, to understand how poor they had become since her father’s illness, now he had to see her sisters chasing swine!

  Aaron smiled—maybe his first genuine, relaxed smile all day—and continued. “I want to assure you, Mr. Fisher—”

  “Call me Menno.” Her father’s voice was strained as he attempted to pull in a de
ep breath.

  Aaron didn’t even flinch. “Menno, I wanted to assure you, you and Lydia’s mamm, that what happened today will never happen again. I can’t promise the cabins won’t be robbed. We hope not, and the police are working to catch who did this.” He ran his hand over his hair, having removed his hat when he walked in the house. “What I can promise is that from this point forward there will always be a man on the property.”

  He stared down at the floor for a moment, and the only sounds were Clara in the kitchen, the girls on the porch, and off in the distance, a heifer calling to its calf.

  “I should have been there, but I wasn’t. If either of your dochdern had been hurt, it would have been my fault. I’m sorry.”

  “Forgiven.” Menno’s hand waved away any supposed sin.

  “Starting tonight, I’ll sleep at the cabins, even if they’re full. When I have to leave, for any reason, I’ll be sure Seth or David or Gabe are on the property.” He turned to Lydia. “I’m sorry, Lydia. I’m sorry if you were in any danger this morning.”

  She couldn’t have answered him if she wanted to. Her heart was beating such a rapid rhythm that she could barely hear his words, though he was sitting next to her on the couch. So instead she nodded, like someone who was mute, and stared down at her hands.

  “I should be going,” he said, standing and reaching for his hat.

  “Danki, for coming by.” Ella stood as well. “I have some fresh-baked cookies in the kitchen. Let me wrap up a few for you.”

  As she left the room, Menno pulled in another ragged breath. “It was Gotte who brought you here, Aaron.”

  Glancing at Lydia, Aaron turned his hat round and round in his hands. “Yes. I believe you’re right.”

  Lydia followed him back outside, carrying the plate of cookies her mamm had wrapped in a dishcloth.

  “I’m sorry I was so upset about your following me home.”

  When Aaron only studied her and waited, she added, “I didn’t want you to see…all of this.” Her hand encompassed the small house, the meager yard, and the tiny barn with the ragged enclosure for the few animals they could afford.

  “You’re ashamed of where you live?”

  “Nein. It’s not that.” Lydia looked past their home, to the next property. A fence separated the two. “See that home? The creek runs through both places, but that home has pastures, a large barn, and fields to cultivate. If we had that home, my bruder could learn to be a farmer, like my dat was a farmer and his dat. But we don’t live on that side of the fence. We live on this side, and I suppose I’m okay with that.”

  “But—”

  “But I’m not sure others understand. We’re happy our dat is alive. Happy for every day we have with him, though it has come at a cost. The farm we once had, we sold and bought this smaller place with the money. Now there isn’t any hope of going back to that life.”

  Aaron reached out and touched her chin, raising her eyes to his. “There’s always hope, Lydia.”

  She didn’t know how to answer that, so she stepped back and waited until he had climbed into Seth’s buggy and driven away. Slowly she walked over to the fence and watched the last of the sun’s rays spread across the water of Pebble Creek.

  The property next door was for sale—its sign sitting next to the road proclaiming it available. BUY NOW. GREAT PRICE. FINANCING AVAILABLE. The words pricked her heart each time she read them. Someone would purchase the pastures, barn, and home. Maybe they would be Amish or maybe they would be Englisch—like the man Timothy Elliott. It didn’t matter. She knew it was wrong to covet what wasn’t theirs.

  It wasn’t the property she longed for, though. It was a home her heart desired. A home to raise her own family in.

  A home where her sisters could visit and her brother could learn the trade of his father—the father who now struggled for his health each day.

  A home was what Lydia longed for, and she understood it was something you couldn’t purchase.

  Chapter 32

  Gabe accepted Rachel from Miriam.

  “Are you sure you won’t come in with us?” Miriam asked him as they stood outside the town library.

  “It’s a beautiful June day. Think I’ll sit outside with this girl and watch the Friday afternoon traffic go by.”

  “We’ll only be a minute. Grace needs to return her books and check out more, and I wanted to see if they have any new ones with knitting patterns—”

  When his fraa stopped midsentence, Gabe glanced up to see what had stolen her attention. His entire family pulled in a deep breath as Miss Bena strode down the sidewalk toward them.

  “Hello, Sylvia.”

  “Miriam. Gabe.” Miss Bena didn’t smile, but she did stop. It would have been impolite to brush past them. She seemed to realize that at least, though she appeared to be at something of a loss as to what to say next.

  “Nice day to visit the library,” Gabe offered.

  “Indeed. It’s gut to see you, Grace.”

  Grace nodded and stepped closer to her mamm.

  “Well, gut day to you.” Miss Bena turned to walk into the library and had opened the door when Miriam called out to her.

  “Sylvia, would you like to come to dinner Sunday afternoon?”

  Miss Bena’s features froze, reminding Gabe so much of a frightened rabbit that he almost laughed out loud.

  He didn’t laugh, though, because another part of him remembered when he’d first come to Wisconsin. He’d built walls around his life, tall sturdy walls. He had been so afraid someone might breech them, that they might find a way into the safe, private life he’d built for himself and Grace. He would often search for ways to avoid such dinners.

  Was Sylvia Bena doing the same?

  Miriam pushed on. “My mother is so much better. We’re having a small celebration. We’d be pleased if you’d join us.”

  “We have a nest of birds down by the creek. Ones I haven’t been able to identify.” It was the first Grace had spoken since her teacher had walked up. “If you came, maybe you could help me. I’ve looked in the books, but I still haven’t been able to figure them out, and I’d like to draw them.”

  Miss Bena’s lips softened into something that might one day resemble a smile. “I usually stay home on Sundays we don’t have church, but I suppose I could make an exception.”

  “Do you need directions?” Gabe asked.

  “No. I can find it.” She turned and entered the library.

  “That was odd,” Grace whispered. “She almost smiled.”

  “You noticed too, huh?” Gabe bounced Rachel on his knee, causing her to cackle and blow bubbles.

  “How did you know her name was Sylvia, mamm?”

  “Everyone has a first name, Grace. You didn’t think we all call her Miss Bena, did you?”

  “None of the students ever called you Miss Miriam, but Miss Bena is, well she’s different. She’s a bit more…” Grace glanced up at her mamm as if she were searching for a word.

  “Formal?” Miriam asked.

  “Ya. That’s it. Formal and serious.”

  As his fraa and dochder walked into the library, Gabe leaned back against the street bench. It was turning into a fine summer. Crops were in the ground, and it looked as if they would have a good harvest in spite of the heavy spring rains and late start.

  Elizabeth Troyer drove by, her buggy full of girls, and he raised a hand in greeting. The cabins were doing well. He expected to hear any day that Aaron was headed back to Indiana. He would miss his new friend. The boy seemed to belong here, though he didn’t realize it yet. At least there had been no more break-ins in Pebble Creek. Rae had stopped at the house and told them a similar burglary had occurred near where she lived.

  The important thing was that the cabins were now busy on a regular basis. Elizabeth had shared with Miriam that they would definitely be able to stay in the Cashton area.

  She would need to find someone to take over the running of the cabins when Aaron left, but Gabe had no doub
t there would be plenty of interested applicants. Lots of dependable Amish folk in the area who would be interested in a steady income.

  As for himself, he was content farming.

  Grace thought Sunday’s luncheon was the best picnic they’d ever had. Even having Miss Bena there worked out well.

  The nest of birds had stumped Miss Bena, who suggested they meet at the library again next week to try to figure out what the little guys were. “You draw well, Grace. Spend some time down here this week, if you can. Bring your tablet to the library, and we’ll compare what you’ve drawn to the reference books.”

  Grace wasn’t sure she’d ever received a compliment from Miss Bena before. More important than that, her teacher seemed as interested as she was in learning the identity of the tiny birds before they flew. Grace had caught sight of the mother bird only once.

  “Some moms are shy,” Miss Bena had said. “And sometimes they learn to hide so they won’t be hurt.” A shadow had crossed over her face when she said that, but when Grace asked her mamm why, Miriam only told her to run and play.

  So she did. She played with Sadie, whose family had come because they lived so close. Together they visited Gus and Hunter and Stanley. They even tried to lure Stormy into playing, but he was lying in the sun, and that sleepy cat wouldn’t so much as chase a ball of yarn.

  When they were tired of running around, she asked, “Wanna see my new cousin?”

  “Sure. How new?”

  “Less than a month. We can’t hold her. She’s tiny and her skin is still wrinkled.”

  They found Anna inside changing baby Abigail’s diaper.

  “You named her after Grace’s mammi?” Sadie asked, touching the baby carefully with one finger.

  “We did. Baby Abigail’s grossmammi gave us quite a scare.” Anna smiled as she snugged a blanket around the infant.

  “She’s better now.” Grace proclaimed. “She’s even knitting again, and this summer she’s showing me how to do all sorts of things like knit and crochet and quilt better.”

  “I’m a terrible quilter.” Sadie ran her hand along the porch railing as they walked down the steps.