Lydia's Hope

by Marta Perry

  “What? She didn’t tell her, did she? Seth, you didn’t let her.”

  “No, she didn’t say anything.” The corners of Seth’s lips lifted slightly. “Although I don’t think I could stop Chloe if she wanted to do something.”

  Lydia’s heartbeat returned to normal. “Ach, you scared me there for a moment. I suppose she wanted to see Susanna.”

  “I figured she wouldn’t leave Oyersburg without having a look at both her sisters, so I made sure I went with her, just in case. It was all right. Susanna waited on her, and they talked a bit about the shop. Chloe bought a couple of things.” He hesitated. “Maybe you didn’t know this, but Susanna mentioned a hospice nurse when she was talking to Mrs. Gaus. I guess her mother must be nearing the end.”

  Lydia’s hands clenched. “It breaks my heart to think she’s losing her mamm without her sisters. But I fear it would break hers to learn the truth about her parents now.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Seth propped one foot on the step, and Lydia realized how tired he looked. Even Seth’s light charm couldn’t stand up to all he’d been through lately.

  “Denke, Seth. You have been so kind during all of this upheaval. Especially when I know you have your own family to worry about.”

  “Well, maybe it gives me a break to worry about yours for a change.” His attempt at a smile wasn’t very successful. “You might feel a little disappointed about today, but I think you made a lot of progress. It’s a big step for someone like Chloe, just coming to meet you. So don’t give up hope, okay?”

  “I won’t. Not ever.”

  “Good night, Lydia.” He went to the car.

  Lydia watched while he turned and drove back down the lane. Seth was doing far more than she had any right to expect. Probably more than he’d ever thought possible a few months ago, when he’d been back in his busy city life. Pleasant Valley was having an effect on him.

  She went back inside. Odd, that Adam hadn’t come out. He was in the workshop, so he must have heard the car and known she was talking to Seth.

  Lydia went to the workshop door, which stood ajar, and hesitated. She didn’t want to get involved in another argument. But Mamm had been right—this business of her sisters was coming between her and Adam. If a marriage didn’t grow stronger in time of trouble, what did it do? Did it break? She pushed the door open and went into the workshop.

  Adam sat at his worktable, bending over the clock he was working on. He’d reached the point of sanding the wood, which meant it was nearly finished, but Adam would sand until the wood was smooth as butter. He was a perfectionist when it came to his clocks.

  “Seth stopped over,” she said. “I thought you’d come out when you heard him.”

  Adam didn’t look up. “I don’t suppose he came to see me.”

  She started to answer, when Mamm’s words slipped back into her mind. Mamm and Daad had thought she cared for Seth when they were all teenagers. Surely Adam didn’t think so, too? That was ridiculous, wasn’t it?

  “He just dropped by to let me know that Chloe had visited Susanna’s shop after we left. He thought I should know.”

  Adam did look up then.

  “She didn’t say anything to Susanna,” she added.

  “Gut.” Adam turned back to the clock.

  She lingered, not liking the distance she felt between them but not sure what to do about it. “It was kind of Seth to let me know. He’s grown up since we were teenagers.”

  Adam made a noise that could only be called a grunt. “It took him long enough.”

  “Ja.” She moved closer to the table, standing behind him and watching his broad, work-roughened hands moving over the wood with such delicacy. “I always knew he’d jump the fence one day. He couldn’t be serious about anything for more than a minute, it seemed.”

  Adam’s hands stilled. “The girls all thought he was something special, ain’t so?”

  “Not all the girls,” she said. “Not me.”

  Was that relief in his face? She couldn’t be sure, and she was afraid to say too much lest he feel she was thinking too much about Seth.

  Adam put down the emery paper he was using and tilted his head back to look at her. “You let him take you home from singing.”

  “Nobody else asked me.” His face was intriguing, seen upside down. “I thought maybe you would, but you didn’t.”

  His lips quirked, and she sensed that the storm was over—for the moment, at least.

  “I was shy,” he said.

  “You were slow,” she retorted, smiling. She bent to kiss him.

  “You are upside down,” he murmured against her lips. He turned, catching her around the waist, and pulled her down on his lap, to kiss her again. “That is better.”

  “Ja, it is.” She put her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his. “I love you, Adam. I know I can rely on you.”

  He seemed to withdraw, pulling away from her even though he didn’t actually move. “I should finish this work.”

  “Ja, all right.” She got up, feeling suddenly chilled. Something was still wrong between them, and she didn’t know what it was.

  * * *

  “Look, some of the strawberries are blossoming already.” Mamm knelt in the berry patch, one hand cupping the tiny white blossoms with their yellow centers. “You’ll have ripe berries in a month, for sure. Earlier than usual.”

  “If we don’t have a hard frost.” Lydia worked her way down the row of plants, pulling out the weeds that had sprung up through the straw. “It has been a beautiful spring, ja?” She tilted her head back, letting the afternoon sun warm her face even as the breeze teased the hair from under her kapp.

  Daad had come over to help Adam expand the run around the chicken coop, and Mamm had arrived as well, bringing a loaf of nut bread. She’d said she just wanted an outing, but Lydia suspected she really wanted to see how Lydia was doing now that she’d had a couple of days after the lunch with Chloe on Saturday. Yesterday had been the off Sunday when they didn’t have worship, and she and Adam had gone to his family’s for supper, so she hadn’t talked to Mamm since Saturday.

  She shielded her eyes with her hand. “I hope the boys aren’t getting in the way of that chicken netting.”

  “You worry too much, Lydia,” Mamm chided. “You know Adam and your daad won’t let them get hurt.”

  “You’re a gut one to talk. I seem to remember you doing quite a bit of worrying when my brothers were that age,” she teased.

  “More of the worrying when they were a little older,” Mamm said, smiling. “Once they got to daring one another to do things, that was. You most likely talked them out of plenty of mischief we never heard about, ain’t so?”

  Lydia smiled, thinking of her rambunctious brothers. “I tried to head them off a time or two. But I think Daad was always one step ahead of them anyway.”

  She was relieved to be back to talking naturally with Mamm. She couldn’t let Chloe be such a sensitive subject between them. She must speak naturally about her Englisch sister, too.

  “I was thinking this morning that you were right about Chloe.” She tucked straw under the leaves of one of the larger plants. “I shouldn’t expect her to be close all at once. It will take time, and I have to be patient.”

  Mamm looked pleased. “I think that’s the best way. You’ll write to her. Tell her all about life here, so she sees that the Amish are just people, like any others.”

  “Do you remember Chloe from when she was small?”

  “Ach, of course I do.” Mamm, bending over to inspect the rhubarb that had sprung up, nodded briskly. “Such a pretty child, with those big eyes and soft hair. She had a head of hair when she was born, I remember, not bald like some babies.”

  “It would be nice if she came here, so you could talk to her.” For an instant Lydia’s voice faltered. Would that happen? She longed for it so much.

  “When you write to her, you must tell her that I remember her.” Mamm seemed to hesitate for
a moment. “And since we’re talking of remembering, I think you have forgotten about stopping to see your great-aunt.”

  Lydia sat back on her heels. “I did forget. I’m sorry. I’ll go over tomorrow. I want to see what else she remembers about my sisters.”

  “Lydia Beachy.” Mamm’s voice had an edge that made her look up in a hurry. “Can you think of nothing else? You should be going to see your great-aunt as a kindness to her, and not for what you think you can get from it.”

  For an instant, Lydia could only stare. Her cheeks went hot. “Ach, Mamm, I’m sorry. You’re right. That was thoughtless of me.” She paused. “I guess I have been thinking of little else, but that’s natural, isn’t it?” She couldn’t seem to help the slightly defensive note in her words.

  “Ja, I’m sure it is natural. Still, you can’t let your excitement about your sisters affect your duties to others.” Mamm eyed her, as if checking to be sure her words were hitting home.

  Lydia lowered her face. Mamm was right, of course. But she was right, as well. How could she stop thinking about Susanna and Chloe?

  “I still have apple-currant jelly left from last year. I’ll take a jar to Aunt Sara.” Maybe that would make amends. “I know that’s her favorite.”

  “Ja, gut.” Mamm gave a short nod. “Why don’t you send a couple of jars to Chloe, too? It would give her a taste of the orchard.”

  Lydia pictured the worldly-looking young woman who’d toyed with her food at the restaurant on Saturday. “I don’t know. She’s so . . . citified. I don’t know that she’d have a taste for something so plain.”

  “You send them,” Mamm said firmly. “A gift from the heart is always cherished.”

  Would it be? She’d hate to think of Chloe joking with her friends about the gift her Amish sister had sent. But Chloe surely was too kind for such an action.

  “Here come the boys, running like they always do,” Mamm said in the indulgent tone that was reserved for her grandchildren.

  Daniel raced through the orchard with David a couple of steps behind, holding his straw hat so it wouldn’t blow off. They were laughing, their faces alight with fun, and Lydia’s heart clutched with love for them.

  If only . . . But she wouldn’t spoil her love for those two with regrets for the babes she hadn’t been able to conceive.

  “I wish I could send a picture of them to Chloe,” she said, then bit her lip, wondering if Mamm would chide her again.

  But her mother seemed to take the comment seriously. “I’ve heard Bishop Mose doesn’t mind having pictures taken of kinder, so long as they’re not for the parents to keep and be prideful about. What does Adam say about it?”

  “It was just a thought. I haven’t mentioned it to him.” Mostly because she suspected she knew what he would say. Adam was a stickler for following the rules.

  “Mammi, Daadi said we should come and ask you.” Daniel, arriving first, panted out the words.

  “Ask me what?”

  “If we can have a snack,” David said, grabbing her apron. “Please, Mammi? I’m awful hungry.”

  “Ach, when aren’t you hungry?” She ruffled his hair, suspecting that this meant Adam wanted them out of the way for a bit. “Let’s go in the kitchen. I think Grossmammi is ready for a cup of tea by now, ja?” She glanced at her mother.

  “Ja, sounds gut.” Mamm took a boy by each hand. “Walk nice with me instead of running just this once, ja?”

  “Ja, Grossmammi.” Daniel smiled up at her, and David swung her hand.

  Lydia followed the three of them as they walked toward the house, smiling at the image they made.

  Image. Picture. If she had a picture of the boys, Seth could send it to Chloe on his computer, she’d guess. In fact, he’d most likely be able to take it, as well.

  What would Adam say if she asked him? On the other hand, did she really need to ask? It wasn’t as if she wanted the picture for herself.

  She considered the idea. It wasn’t right to go behind Adam’s back. But on the other hand, it would save them an argument, wouldn’t it?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  T hat’s gut and sturdy.” Adam’s father-in-law gave a shake to the new chicken wire they’d just stapled to the post. “Like those kinder of yours.” Joseph’s weathered face creased in a smile as he watched the boys run to Lydia.

  “Those two are growing like weeds.” Adam’s gaze lingered on Lydia’s face, glowing with love as she gave each of the boys a quick hug.

  “It made no trouble, having them here with us while we worked,” Joseph said, and Adam thought there was a question in the words.

  “Ja, but I could tell from here that Lydia was worrying about them. She’d be sure Daniel would staple his finger or David would wind himself up in the wire.”

  Joseph chuckled. “That’s our Lydia, for sure. Always worrying about the younger ones. She was like that with her brothers, too. Ach, you know what that is like as well as anyone. You are the oldest in your family.”

  Adam nodded, unrolling the chicken wire to the next post. What Joseph said was true enough, and it couldn’t help but make him think of Benjamin. “You can’t always protect your little sisters and brothers, no matter how hard you try.”

  Joseph’s shrewd eyes studied his face. “Some folks find it hard to learn that lesson.”

  “Ja.” Adam was struggling with it—that was certain-sure. And it didn’t help that his daad saw things the same way—Adam was the oldest; Adam should have been able to keep Benj from making mistakes.

  He looked at his boys, just going in the back door with Lydia and their grossmammi. “I pray I would never blame Daniel if something happened to David.” He bit off the last word. He shouldn’t have said that, though sometimes Joseph felt more like his father than his own daad did.

  Joseph began setting in the last row of staples. “We all make mistakes with our kinder, sometimes because we’re thinking too much of how it affects us.” He paused, as if to let his words sink in. “We just have to do the best we can at the time, and ask God to keep making us better at it.”

  “That’s not easy.” Adam started gathering up their tools and the remnants of wire. Chickens weren’t the brightest of God’s creatures, and if they left anything they shouldn’t, the silly birds would try to eat it.

  “No.” Joseph blew out a long breath. “Anna has been fretting about whether we did the wrong thing in not telling Lydia about her sisters to begin with. But we did what we thought best at the time.”

  “I’m sure of it.” Adam led the way out of the chicken yard, fastening the door securely. Then he opened the hatch between the coop and the yard, letting the birds out again. They came squawking, unhappy at having been shut in during the day.

  “At least things seem to be getting back to normal between Lydia and her mamm,” Joseph said as they started walking toward the house.

  “Ja, they are back to being close.” Adam was glad of that, of course. He just wished he could say the same about him and Lydia. But they wouldn’t be back in balance until he got another job, regardless of what was happening with Lydia’s sisters.

  Joseph paused at the edge of the apple orchard. “Which tree was it you wanted me to look at?”

  “The big one in the center.” Adam led the way. He’d been concerned about that old tree this spring, and he trusted Joseph’s opinion on trees as on other things.

  “You know, I happened to be in Caleb Brand’s shop the other day.” Joseph’s tone was casual, almost too casual. “Katie was complaining that their wall clock was broken. Caleb wondered if you had time to take on the job of fixing it for them.”

  Adam had a feeling it wasn’t Caleb who’d suggested that, and he stiffened. “I don’t—”

  “Ach, don’t get all stiff-necked about it.” Joseph slapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder. “So what if I mentioned you to Caleb? He needs a clock fixed and there’s no harm in making a little money doing the work for him. You have a gift for clocks, ain’t so?”

&n
bsp; “Not sure it’s a gift,” he muttered, not quite ready to give up feeling embarrassed that his father-in-law was drumming up a job for him. “Daad always called it tinkering.”

  “Your daad’s one of those who think farming’s the only job for an Amishman,” Joseph said. “Ja, the church needs farmers, but it also needs clock-makers. Look at Jesus’ disciples—they didn’t all do the same thing. Fishermen, tax collectors. And Paul, he was a tentmaker.”

  “Ja, that’s so, but . . .” He let that trail off. There was a lot of sense in what Joseph said. True, he’d like it fine if he could farm full-time, but he couldn’t.

  Joseph wasn’t one to beat a subject to death. He walked in silence until they reached the tree and then tilted his head back, studying it.

  “You see what’s wrong, ja?” Adam said finally, to break the silence.

  “Ja.” Joseph blew out a long breath, his forehead furrowed. “The tree is old. It had been bearing for some years even before my brother bought this place.” He leaned closer, tracing a crack where one of the heavy branches was threatening to break away from the trunk. “You could prune it and hope for the best, but I’d say it was time the tree was felled. Otherwise there’s no saying what it might take with it if it comes down in a storm.”

  “Ja, that’s what is in my mind, too.” Adam looked at the younger trees around it. He’d not like to lose any of those. “But Lydia has a special feeling for this tree.”

  “Because of her mamm,” Joseph said, nodding. “Ja, I know. Diane loved this tree. She said it made her happy because it had weathered a lot of storms and still bore fruit.” He smiled slightly. “She had an interesting way of thinking, Diane did. Seemed to me that was a fine description of how a Christian ought to live.”

  Adam had to admit there was a lot of truth in what Joseph said, but it didn’t resolve the problem. “Lydia’s not going to like hearing that the tree should come down.”

  “Lydia’s a sensible woman,” Joseph said. “She’ll understand when you explain it to her.”