by Amy Clipston
“Michaela is a very nice name,” Lydia said. “How old are you?”
“I’m four.” Michaela looked proud as she shared this information. “I’m going to start kindergarten in the fall. I can’t wait to go to school. My mommy says the teachers don’t know what they’re in for.”
Lydia chuckled at the statement. “I think the teachers will enjoy having you in their classes.” While looking at the pretty little girl, Lydia couldn’t help thinking of Ruthie and wondering if she would ever be well enough to run around the yard and play with a puppy. Lydia leaned over and hefted her bag to her shoulder. “It was very nice meeting you, Michaela.”
Despite the puppy licking her face, Michaela scrunched her nose, tilted her head, and stared at Lydia quizzically, sizing her up with her blue eyes. “Aren’t you too hot in those heavy clothes?”
“I’m used to it. I’ve always dressed this way, so it’s normal to me.” Lydia pointed toward Michaela’s denim jeans trimmed in pink. “It’s sort of like how you wear jeans. I wouldn’t feel comfortable in pants or jeans because I’ve never worn them.”
Michaela’s eyes rounded. “You’ve never worn jeans?”
Lydia shook her head. “No.”
The little girl gasped. “Ever?”
“Never ever,” Lydia said with a smile.
“How come?” Michaela’s nose scrunched again and her little forehead puckered with curiosity. “I only wear dresses when I go to church on Sundays. I wouldn’t like wearing them every day. I like to play in the mud, and Mommy says that —”
“Michaela!” a masculine voice called.
A tall boy who looked approximately Lydia’s age loped down the driveway toward them. His dark brown hair fell below his ears and was styled similarly to the sloppy style she saw on the teenage English boys Lydia had seen come into her grandmother’s bakery.
Approaching them, he smiled. “Hi. Is my little sister harassing you?”
“Tristan, I’m not bothering her,” Michaela retorted with her free hand on her little hip in defiance. “I was just thanking my new friend for stopping Bitsy from running away. She’d never find her way back if she got lost. Don’t you care about Bitsy?”
With a shake of his head, Tristan met Lydia’s gaze and held out his hand. “I’m Tristan Anderson, and this is my shy little sister, Michaela.”
“I’m not shy,” Michaela chimed in. “And I already told her my name.”
Tristan grinned as he continued to hold out his hand to Lydia. “I’m pretty sure she knows you aren’t shy, Michaela.”
Lydia took his hand and gave it a quick shake. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Lydia Bontrager.” She pointed down the road. “My family’s farm is a few houses down. Welcome to Lancaster County.”
“Thank you,” Tristan said.
“You live on this street?” Michaela asked.
“Yes,” Lydia said. “I also teach at the little one-room schoolhouse up the road.”
“Wow.” Michaela’s eyes were wide. “I wish I could go to your school. My mommy says my school is a few miles away.”
Lydia smiled. “I bet you’ll enjoy your school.”
“I’ve never seen a one-room schoolhouse,” Michaela said. “I thought they only had those in the olden days, like on that TV show Mommy and I watch called Little House on the Prairie. My mommy said she loved that show when she was little. She’s old.”
Trying to hold in her laughter, Lydia nodded. “I bet that’s a nice show. We don’t have a television, but I’ve read the books by Laura Ingalls Wilder.”
Michaela’s eyes looked as if they might fall out of her little head. “You don’t have television?”
“No,” Lydia said. “I don’t.”
“But how come—” the little girl began.
“Michaela,” Tristan interrupted with a stern tone. “You know what Mom and Dad have told you about asking too many questions. It’s very rude to put Lydia on the spot like that. You need to stop.”
“Okay. Fine.” Michaela sighed. “I’m sorry for being rude.”
“You’re not rude,” Lydia said. “You’re just curious. I’m certain you’ve never met an Amish person before.”
Michaela shook her head. “We didn’t have them in New Jersey. Everyone there had a TV and went to a big school and they all wear jeans.” She glanced toward the house. “I’m going to go see if Mom needs help. See you later.” Michaela trotted up the driveway.
“Sorry about that,” Tristan said with a smile. “She’s a little overwhelming.”
“She reminds me of my younger sisters,” Lydia said. “I love listening to children talk. They say the funniest things sometimes.”
“They do say funny things, and sometimes it’s at the worst opportunity,” he agreed. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
“Three, and they’re all younger,” she said while adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “A brother and two sisters.”
“That’s a big family,” Tristan said. “I only have Michaela to deal with.” He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his shorts. “So you teach? Are you old enough to be a teacher?”
“Ya,” Lydia said. “We graduate from our schools when we’re fourteen. For the last two years I’ve worked as an assistant teacher. How old are you?”
“Seventeen,” he said. “I’ll be a senior this year.”
“Do you like school?”
He shrugged. “I do. My dad’s a college professor.”
“A college professor,” Lydia said. “That sounds really interesting.” She couldn’t help but wonder what Tristan’s life was like. It was so different than living on a farm and never moving from the house in which she was born. “Was it hard to move away?” she asked. “I always wondered what it would be like to have to pack up everything you own and start over somewhere new.”
Tristan folded his arms over his blue T-shirt and looked at her with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Moving is never easy. I really didn’t want to leave my friends before senior year.” He frowned a little. “And I had to leave my girlfriend behind. That was really difficult. We’re going to try surviving a long-distance relationship. I won’t see her until later this summer, but we talk almost every day.”
“What’s her name?” Lydia asked, trying to imagine what his girlfriend would look like.
“Lexi,” he said.
“Lexi?” Lydia said. “That’s an unusual name.”
“I guess it is,” he agreed. “It’s short for Alexis.”
“Alexis,” Lydia repeated. “I like that name. How long have you known her?”
He grinned. “I’d say nearly all my life. We grew up near each other and went to the same schools.”
Lydia couldn’t stop her smile. Like Josh and me. “So you must have a lot in common.”
“We do,” he said. “We’ve gone through just about everything together. She knows me better than anyone else.”
“Tristan!” another masculine voice hollered. “Come help carry boxes!”
“I better go,” Tristan said. “It was nice meeting you. Stop by to visit sometime.”
“I will,” Lydia said. “Nice meeting you too.”
While Tristan followed Michaela up the driveway toward the house, Lydia continued her trek home. Despite her continuing headache, she smiled while contemplating Michaela’s funny conversation. The little girl was a very sweet and precocious child. She would certainly liven up a classroom. And she’d enjoyed talking to Tristan too. It seemed like they might have some things in common.
Turning to her left, she looked toward the big white farmhouse where Barbie’s aunt Deborah lived. She saw Deborah on the porch and waved to her as she continued walking home.
Reaching the long rock driveway leading to her house, Lydia sent up a silent prayer for Ruthie, asking God to make her well so she could someday meet Michaela and her adorable puppy.
“They seem really nice,” Lydia said to her mother while washing the dinner dishes in the kitchen sink.
“Mic
haela is four, like Ruthie, and she says the funniest things. She told me everyone in New Jersey has a television, and she can’t believe I teach in a one-room schoolhouse.”
“Uh-huh,” Mamm said while wiping the table.
Lydia wondered if her mother wanted to discuss something with her, but she’d remained reticent while Lydia yammered on and on about the new neighbors in hopes of inspiring her mother to talk. Instead of giving Ruthie a bath, her mother had asked Irma to watch Ruthie so she could help Lydia in the kitchen. Lydia assumed there was a reason behind her mother’s sudden interest in kitchen cleanliness, but she hadn’t really spoken since they began their cleanup.
“Tristan seems really nice,” Lydia continued as she scrubbed a pot. “He seemed interested in what I said. Plus, I’m just happy to see someone move into the Fitzgeralds’ house. It’s such a pretty brick home. I’ve always wondered how many bedrooms are in it.”
“Uh-huh,” Mamm repeated, still running the washcloth over the table.
Lydia faced her mother while leaning against the sink. Mamm’s face was twisted into a frown as she worked. Her hand continued to swipe the cloth over the table in a methodical motion, hitting the same clean spot several times.
“I was thinking that I should take them a cake or something,” Lydia said, hoping to get her mother to stop and look up. “I’d like to welcome them to the community.”
“Uh-huh,” Mamm said again. Her tone was flat, uninterested. She seemed to be in her own world. Was she thinking of Ruthie? Maybe praying for her?
“Mamm?” Lydia asked. “Are you listening to me?”
“Ach!” Mamm looked up at Lydia, startled. Her expression transformed back into a frown as she lowered herself into a chair. “I’m sorry, mei liewe. I have a lot on my mind. Sit with me, please.”
Tossing the washcloth into the sudsy sink, Lydia joined her mother at the table and sat across from her. “Was iss letz?”
Her mother blew out a deep sigh and her blue eyes filled with tears. “The doctor called today.”
Dread filled Lydia. “What did he say?”
“He wants to meet with your dat and me tomorrow morning.” She paused to wipe a tear that had trickled down her cheek. “He has news to tell us, and he wants to share it in person. I fear that it’s not gut news.”
“Oh no.” Lydia cleared her throat, hoping to stop the lump forming there from getting any bigger. “Do you want me to stay home from the bakery and take care of Ruthie for you?”
Mamm shook her head and reached for Lydia’s hands. “No, but danki. The doctor wants us to bring Ruthie with us. He said he needs to do another exam and possibly talk about some procedures. He has some brochures geared to children that we can read to her, and we may have an opportunity to share them with her in the office. I appreciate your offer though, Lydia.”
“But do you need me to go with you?” Lydia pressed on while holding her mother’s hands. “Ruthie may be fussy if she’s tired. We all know how she gets when she’s tired. If she’s having a bad day, she’ll want to be home. I could help you keep her quiet and even take her outside to walk so you can talk to the doctor without interruption.”
The tears in her mother’s eyes glistened. “I haven’t been working for weeks now, and your father is pulling extra hours installing kitchen floors. I don’t need to tell you that money is tight, and we don’t know what God has in store for us with Ruthie’s illness.”
“So, you need me to work,” Lydia whispered as the gravity of the situation gripped her.
Her mother nodded. “The driver is going to pick us up early since the appointment is in Hershey.”
“Oh.” Lydia cleared her throat again. Changing the subject for just a moment, she asked, “Would it be all right if I brought home some pastries tomorrow for the Anderson family?”
Her mother looked confused. “The Anderson family?”
“The family I was telling you about,” Lydia said. “You know—the little maedel with the puppy and the bu who’s my age.”
“Oh. Right,” Mamm said. “Ya, you can take them some desserts tomorrow night. Maybe Titus and Irma can walk up with you before supper. That would be wunderbaar gut.”
Lydia studied the dark circles under her mother’s eyes and wondered when she had last slept. “Why don’t you go to bed early tonight, and I’ll make sure Ruthie is okay.”
Mamm smiled and squeezed Lydia’s hand. “You’re sweet, but no. I’m certain I’ll be awake all night anyway, praying and worrying. I can handle Ruthie. You worry about getting your sleep for work. You look tired today.”
“I’m fine,” Lydia said. The headache that had haunted her all day paled in comparison to her mother’s exhaustion. Renewed guilt about her misbehavior at the gathering nipped at her.
A wail sounded from the family room, and Mamm jumped up from the table. “I better go check on her. She had a bad day. I noticed more bruising on her beh, she’s still running a low-grade fever, and she looks so pale. I know we have to trust in the Lord, but I can’t stop worrying.”
Before Lydia could respond, her mother was gone, leaving Lydia to the task of finishing the dishes. As a yawn stole her breath, she wondered how much the meeting with the doctor would impact her family, and what it would mean for her own life.
3
How was Sunday night?” Amanda leaned closer to Lydia while they plopped chocolate chip cookie dough onto a large cookie sheet early the following morning. “Did you have fun?”
To buy some time before answering, Lydia looked around the large, open Kauffman Amish Bakery kitchen, which was owned by their grandmother, Elizabeth Kauffman. The sweet aroma of freshly baked bread filled her senses. Lydia’s aunts and cousins bustled around them, chatting in Pennsylvania Dutch and preparing treats to be sold to tourists during the day. Lydia could see the propane-powered lamps, and the ovens, aligned in a row, which were run by gas.
Due to the May warmth, Lydia, her aunts, and her cousins did the bulk of the baking in the early morning to keep the heat to a minimum. But despite five fans that ran through the power inverters and gave a gentle breeze, Lydia often felt the heat radiating on her cheeks throughout the day.
Still trying to buy some time, she studied the familiar tools, plain pans, and ordinary knives and cutlery on the long counter in front of her while she silently debated what to share with her cousin. While she wanted to tell Amanda the truth about what happened Sunday night, she didn’t want to disappoint or upset her. Due to being born six months apart and the oldest children in their families, they’d been best friends almost since birth.
“Lydia?” Amanda asked, moving closer and whispering in her ear. “Are you all right?”
“Ya.” Lydia forced a smile and looked up at her favorite cousin.
While Lydia had her father’s light brown hair and matching deep brown eyes, Amanda was blonde and blue-eyed like her mother, Kathryn. When Lydia was younger, she envied her cousin’s beautiful golden hair and sky-blue eyes, which mirrored Lydia’s mother, Beth Anne, and the rest of the Kauffman daughters. Lydia used to wish she’d wake up one morning and find herself blessed with the same eyes and hair.
She gave up that silly dream, however, when her father told her she was just as pretty as the rest of her cousins and she should concentrate on being a good person on the inside instead of worrying about how she looked on the outside. He also reminded her that vanity is a sin. If only her father knew about her indiscretion on Sunday. Then he’d know that she wasn’t such a good person on the inside.
“Well?” Amanda asked, her angelic face displaying annoyance. “Are you going to tell me about Sunday night?” A smile turned up her lips. “Did something really exciting happen between you and Josh?” she whispered.
Lydia sighed. “If only it was as simple as that.”
“What does that mean?”
“Josh wasn’t even there.” Lydia dropped the last bit of dough onto the cookie sheet. But if he had been, maybe I wouldn’t have been so stupid.
“Oh.” Amanda seemed to study her. “So, how was it?”
“Awful,” Lydia said. “You weren’t there, and Josh wasn’t there. There was no one to talk with.”
Amanda gestured toward Nancy, who was icing a cake on a counter on the other side of the kitchen. “What about Nancy?”
“She was with her boyfriend,” Lydia said in a low voice. “I always feel like I’m intruding if I bug her when they’re together, you know?” She hoped Nancy had been so occupied with her sweetheart that she hadn’t seen her take off with Mahlon and his friends and had missed the whole embarrassing scene.
“Ya,” Amanda said. “I know what you mean. Who did you wind up socializing with?”
Lydia shrugged and wiped her hands on a rag. “Oh, you know. Just the usual crowd.”
“Including …?” Amanda raised an eyebrow. “Why aren’t you telling me?”
“Because there isn’t much to tell.” Lydia lifted the cookie sheet and started toward the oven.
“Come on, Lydia.” Amanda’s voice transformed into a whine. “You know I hated missing it. I begged my mamm to let me go.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Lydia opened the oven door, slipped the cookies in, and set the small timer sitting on the counter.
Their grandmother approached them, wiping her hands on her apron. “What are you two discussing?”
Amanda folded her arms while scowling. “I’ve been asking Lydia to fill me in on Sunday night’s youth gathering, but she won’t tell me anything. I missed it because my mamm was certain I was still sick.”
“You were sick, Amanda,” Kathryn called from the other side of the kitchen without turning around from cutting out sugar cookies. “I didn’t need you infecting all the members in your youth group. Their mothers would give me a piece of their minds for certain. That was a nasty virus.”
Amanda rolled her eyes. “Ya, Mamm.”
Lydia stifled a chuckle at her cousin’s expression as their grandmother moved over to the sink and began washing a pile of dirty bowls and utensils.
Nancy sidled up to Amanda and touched her arm. “You didn’t miss much. The usual groups socialized together.” Leaning forward, she lowered her voice. “I even saw Mahlon take a group out behind the barn.”
