The Sisters of Sugarcreek

by Cathy Liggett

  “She’s just not her usual high-spirited self right now, is she?” Jessica hugged the warm cup. “Even though she keeps pretending all is well . . . which breaks my heart.”

  “Jah. Sometimes that’s what we have to do, I guess. Isn’t there an Englischer saying about that?”

  “You mean ‘fake it till you make it’?”

  “Jah, that’s the one.” Lydia nodded.

  “I just wish she would try to reach out to Daniel again.” Jessica sighed. “Actually I wish he would’ve come to the door the night she went to his shop. I wonder why they’re both being so stubborn.”

  “I don’t know.” Lydia shrugged. “But I was thinking there might be something we could do about that.”

  “Yeah? Well, whatever it is you’re thinking, all I can say is, I’m in, sister.” Jessica lifted her cup and started to take a sip, then stopped with the cup at her lips. “Oh, goodness. I just called you ‘sister,’ didn’t I?”

  Lydia smiled. “Jah, you did.”

  “That’s funny. I’ve never had a sister before.”

  “Well then, I’d say you’re in for a mighty gut treat.” Lydia raised her cup in a salute, making Jessica laugh.

  “Liz is right,” Jessica mused. “You have opened up quite a bit, Lydia, which, as you would say, is a verra gut thing.”

  LIZ HAD BEEN SURPRISED to be greeted by a note on Lydia’s front door, inviting her to come right in and saying she’d had to run next door to help Jonas with something and would be back real soon. In much smaller print, there was also a reminder for Liz to park her car up near the barn. Out of the way. That request, Liz already knew, was to make room for buggies, just in case some of Lydia’s Amish friends joined them later in the evening to make peanut butter spread.

  Having followed Lydia’s directions to a T, Liz stood in the kitchen, waiting for her return, wondering how the woman managed to do all that she did.

  Although Liz had told Lydia several times that she didn’t need to come home from work and make dinner for the two of them, her friend wouldn’t hear of doing anything but. She had also insisted, more than once, that Liz needn’t bring a thing.

  Seeing what a pretty table Lydia had set for the two of them, complete with lovely butter-colored plates and a hurricane candleholder surrounded by a wreath of pinecones, and after peeking into the oven at the roast and vegetables that looked delicious and ready to eat, Liz wished she wouldn’t have listened to Lydia.

  She could’ve at least brought a dessert. Not that she needed any sweets these days. Since the sad chain of events with Daniel, she’d been bingeing on any sugary thing she could get her hands on. As if that could fill the void she kept feeling deep inside her. At least she wouldn’t have any trouble coming up with a New Year’s resolution when January rolled around. She just hoped she could muster up some resolve by then regarding Daniel.

  Sighing, she stood in the middle of the kitchen with her arms crossed over her chest, rubbing at the sleeves of her sweater. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately too, she’d noticed. As if Daniel’s departure from her life, and the lack of his warmth, had left her with a permanent chill.

  Maybe her friends were right after all. Maybe she should try to contact him once more. But then, if she did, would she only regret it? Only get hurt all over again?

  Glancing out the kitchen window into the darkness, she weighed the situation and her possible options, just as she’d done a hundred other times before. She still hadn’t settled anything in her mind or heart when she heard a creaking sound coming from the front door. Not wanting to be a downer for her friend—especially not after all the trouble Lydia had gone to—she did her best to hide her angst and put on a cheery face.

  “Hey there, girlfriend,” she called as she started for the door. “You sure went out of your way to make things ni—”

  Her voice faltered at the same exact time her feet did. Halting in her tracks, she gazed at the figure standing in the entry, who did not look one bit like Lydia.

  And not one bit happy to see her.

  In fact, the very man she’d been thinking of, stewing about, yearning for, and eating way too much chocolate over stood staring at her, a scowl taking hold of his entire face.

  “Liz? What—what are you doing here?” Daniel’s brow furrowed and his lips weren’t curved upward in their usual sweet way—the way she’d remembered him by. She was hoping he was simply as shocked at seeing her as she was at seeing him. That one of his embracing, tender smiles would surface any moment. But instead, he grimaced. And frowned some more.

  Hurt by his greeting, and tired of hurting, she drew herself up, put her hands to her hips, then haughtily tossed her head.

  “Well, hello yourself, Daniel. I could say the same thing about you, you know. What are you doing here?”

  “Sorry.” His chin jutted outward. “But you’re the last person I expected to see.”

  “You mean the last person you wanted to see.”

  “Did I say that?”

  “Not so much with words, no. But if the expression on your face is any indication . . .”

  “Look, I’m confused, is all.” He glanced around the sitting room and over her head toward the kitchen, avoiding eye contact with her. “Jonas asked if I’d meet him here. He said he needed help fixing his neighbor’s plumbing. Then, just as I’m pulling in the drive, he calls from someone’s cell and says he’s running late, but to come in anyway.”

  “That’s strange.” Liz was just as puzzled. “I didn’t know Lydia had a plumbing problem. I was supposed to be meeting her here twenty minutes ago for a bite to eat. Then we were going to spend the evening making peanut butter spread with her friends. But when I got here, there was a note on the door saying she had to help Jonas with something, and . . .” She scratched at her head, trying to make sense of it all. “What do you think they’re doing? Do you think they’re all right?”

  “I have no clue.” Daniel blinked at her. “All I know is that Jonas said his neighbor left a note for me in the kitchen, describing the problem, so I could get started looking at things.”

  “Well, he’s wrong. There was no note on the table, Daniel. I can attest to that.”

  “Not on the table.” Daniel shook his head, still not meeting her gaze. “I was told it’d be on a kitchen counter, in her stationary basket. Do you know what on earth a stationary basket looks like? Is it a basket that stays put?”

  At a former point in their relationship, Liz would’ve laughed and thought Daniel’s silly comment was cute. She might’ve even laughed right then if he still didn’t seem so put out to see her. “I doubt it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I would guess the basket contains Lydia’s letter-writing materials—as in stationery,” she answered smugly.

  “Oh . . . yeah. Right.” He shrugged. “Well, I’ll take a look and then be out of your way so you can have that dinner you’re looking forward to.”

  He began to stride toward the kitchen, but somehow she couldn’t let him go. Not again. Before his broad shoulders could disappear around the corner, she had to say something. She was tired of the puzzle, tired of wondering. Seeing him again, unable to deny all that she felt for him, she couldn’t hold her feelings in any longer.

  “Daniel, I—”

  Her heart pounded as she boldly reached out to touch the arm that she’d hoped would hold her again. He stopped and turned, his serious eyes leveled on hers. Her legs were as shaky and unsteady as they’d been the frigid night she’d gone to see him. Shocked by her own audacity, she knew what she meant to say, what she had to say, but she had no idea how to get started.

  “Daniel . . . I—I came to see you.” She stumbled over her words. “At your shop.” She closed her eyes for a moment, not wanting to ask the next question but needing so much to know the truth. “You—you knew I was there, didn’t you? That was you, wasn’t it? Who wouldn’t let me in?”

  “It was dark. . . . I didn’t think you saw me. . . .” His voice drifted. Like a c
onvicted man, he bowed his head and looked away from her.

  Just as she’d suspected. Her stomach grew sick and heavy, and her legs weaker, as she swayed on her feet.

  Removing her hand from his arm, she couldn’t stop shaking her head. “I don’t understand, Daniel.”

  “Oh, come on, Liz. Can you blame me? For not wanting to be that guy?” His accusing voice stabbed the air, his eyes glowering as he finally looked at her.

  “That guy? What guy?” Her mind reeled with confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Really? You really don’t understand?”

  “I—I—” She wavered, trying to comprehend what she was hearing. “I’m sorry, Daniel, but I don’t.”

  He stared at her for a moment. His jaw clenching. His eyes glaring. Then he sucked in a deep breath and seemed much calmer when he spoke. “Look, it’s really nice what you do. How you keep a list of people in need. People who are sick, people who are hurting. You take time—when no one else does—to make them a meal or bake something special. And I get it; I understand it. I know you truly want to make people feel better about their situation. To help them through whatever it is. You want to let them know someone cares. Which is great of you, Liz. It is. But . . .”

  He paused and Liz stiffened, still so bewildered by what he was saying. Still so frightened of losing him all over again.

  “I don’t need that from you, Liz,” he finally continued. “That’s not who I wanted to be to you. Not a person on your list. My feelings for you . . . Well, I wanted to be the person. I told you that. And when I saw you standing at the shop door, at first I was thrilled to see you. But then I saw the casserole dish you were holding, and I . . . It made me angry. Angry that I was like everyone else to you . . . that you’d made it and brought it along to soften the blow. And when I didn’t hear from you after that night . . .” He shrugged. “I figured either you hadn’t seen me in the shadows of the shop or—honestly?—I assumed I’d fallen off your to-do list.”

  Her mouth gaped at his bluntness. “Actually, Daniel, if you only would’ve opened the door, you would’ve learned it was a shepherd’s pie.” She hated the way her voice was shaking as she tried to explain. “My version of humble pie because I was there, at your shop, wanting to humbly ask for your forgiveness.”

  “My forgiveness for what? Because you don’t feel the same way I do? Don’t worry, I’m not going to hold it against you. I just want some distance from you right now.” He glanced down at his feet before meeting her gaze again. “And, no offense, I’m sure your shepherd’s pie was great, but I really didn’t need a consolation prize.”

  Hearing the sting in his voice, she reached out to touch his arm again. “Oh, Daniel, that’s not what I meant for it to be. Not at all,” she pleaded, wanting so much for him to understand all the things she’d had a hard time comprehending herself. “I was hoping you could forgive me for taking so long to realize what I was feeling for you. Even my friends could see it in me from the very beginning. But I was scared and so surprised. I didn’t know how to react because I just didn’t think it was possible to feel this way again.”

  “Not possible because of who I am? Or what I do?” He cocked his head. “Because those things aren’t going to change, Liz.” He spoke quietly but she could still detect a note of bitterness in his voice. She hoped he could hear the sincerity in hers.

  “Daniel,” she said softly, “I don’t want them to. I don’t want to change anything about you. You’re an incredible man. Every time I’m with you, I find more and more things to like—to love about you. What I’m having such a hard time saying is, I didn’t think my feelings for you were possible because I’ve already had so much. A good life. A good marriage.”

  He frowned, looking as if he was trying to understand. “And you didn’t think you deserved more?”

  “Not that I didn’t deserve it. Why, I never even imagined it. I thought my life was all that it was going to be. I kept busy at it, filling the hours and days. Then I met you, and I never stopped to truly acknowledge how you were filling my heart. I still can’t believe it,” she croaked, an overwhelming sense of gratitude welling up inside her.

  She fanned her face, trying to stave off the tears, so determined to explain to him, to share everything in her heart. “It seems amazing to me that God would give me a second chance. And a first chance to build a new life with you.”

  He took his time to scrutinize her face, and she knew he was weighing her words. She only wished she knew what they meant to him. The moments of waiting for his reply felt torturous, but how could she blame him? She’d certainly taken her time to consider her feelings for him, hadn’t she?

  Finally, he reacted. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and arched a lone brow. “So . . . ,” he drawled, sounding duly serious. “I guess what that means is . . . you do want to be more than just friends?” A slight smile crept over his lips.

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his response. So she did both, choking on her laughter. “Oh, so much more.”

  “Jah?” His grin broadened as he dropped back into the vernacular of his childhood.

  “Yes.”

  He held out his long-awaited arms to her, and in two steps, she was right where she wanted to be, locked in his embrace. A place she knew she belonged. And this time when his lips caressed hers, she gave in to the heady sensation of his kiss. More than that, she answered him with kisses of her own, wanting him to know the yearning and fervor she had for him.

  When they finally came up for air, she looked into his eyes. Though she wanted him to reclaim her lips, there was more she had to say. “Besides being right about us, Daniel, there’s one other thing I need to tell you. Another thing you were right about.”

  “My head is going to be too big to fit through the door if you keep this up,” he joked.

  “But you need to know you were correct. God also had a plan concerning my job.”

  “You made a sale?”

  “Even better. I had breakfast with Belinda—the day I tried to see you, actually—and the reason she looked familiar to you is because she and her husband are the new proprietors of Annabelle’s.”

  “Ah.” Daniel nodded. “That’s where I’ve seen her.”

  “When I met with her, that’s when I really came to recognize my feelings for you, too, Daniel.”

  He frowned, pushing a stray hair back from her forehead. “I’m sorry, Lizzy, but you’re losing me.”

  “Well, as soon as I spoke to Belinda, I wanted to share my news with you and only you,” she confided. “I mean, I love my girlfriends, and I tell them absolutely everything. But you’re the one I wanted to tell first because I knew it would mean so much to you.”

  He stared at her, baffled. “What would mean so much to me?”

  “Belinda and her husband want to hire me to run the catering part of their business. Can you believe it?”

  “Annabelle’s?” He stepped back, pure joy bursting from every feature on his face. “Liz, that’s incredible!” He gripped her shoulders, almost shaking her in his delight. “Fantastic! And much deserved after all the meals you’ve cooked for people over the years.”

  “And I don’t have to give that up either.” Her words came excitedly. “Their restaurant works in partnership with the local food pantries, so I can even help distribute meals for them.”

  “What great news!” he exclaimed. “We need to celebrate you!”

  She stood on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss upon his cheek. “I’d much rather celebrate us.”

  “Yeah? Me too.” He smiled languidly, gazing into her eyes.

  “Anyway, I have a feeling Lydia and Jonas aren’t showing up.”

  “I have that same feeling.”

  “Do you think there’s really a note in the stationery basket?” she wondered.

  “I don’t know. We can sure look and see.”

  Arms wrapped around each other’s waists, they strolled into the kitchen. Ri
ght away, on the counter next to the bread box, Liz spied a wicker basket she hadn’t noticed before.

  “That has to be it.” She broke away from Daniel’s embrace to peer inside. The basket was filled with loose sheets of pale-blue paper, and right on top she discovered a small envelope, also blue, with black print on it.

  “Hmm.” She picked it up, eyeing the words there. “‘For a special couple,’” she read. “‘Liz and Daniel, that means you.’”

  She laughed and Daniel chuckled as well. He peeked over her shoulder while she opened the envelope and pulled a piece of folded stationery from the sleeve.

  “A-hem.” She cleared her throat. “‘Roses are red. Violets are blue. Look in the oven to find dinner for two. Share the meal, and share the time, and everything will work out fine.’” She looked fixedly at the words for a moment longer, digesting the message. “Well, it’s confirmed, then. We’ve been—”

  “Set up,” he finished her thought. “But it seems we were a step ahead of them. We didn’t even need dinner to work out our differences.”

  “But we did need our friends’ help to bring us together.” She spun around to face him. “We’re lucky we have such special people in our lives. Friends who care so much.”

  “True.” He took her hands into his. “We’re even luckier we have each other.”

  “Oh, Daniel. I’ve missed you so much.” She sighed, leaning her head against his solid shoulder. “So much has happened since I saw you last.”

  “You mean more than your job offer?”

  “So much more.”

  “Like what?” His fingers sifted gently through her hair.

  “Well . . .” She paused to think and couldn’t come up with a single specific answer. “I don’t know exactly. All I know is that every day that went by without you, there would be things I’d want to tell you about. Times I wanted to laugh with you. Thoughts I wanted to share.”

  “We can get started now, talking over dinner. That is, if I ever let you go.” With that, he tightened his embrace, pulling her even closer, causing her to giggle in his arms.