Reckless Heart (Kauffman Amish Bakery 5.5)

by Amy Clipston

  Lydia froze, and she felt the color drain from her face.

  “I’m certain they were drinking,” Nancy whispered.

  “Ach,” Amanda said with a gasp. “That’s so wrong and it’s also sinful. If their parents only knew …”

  While the color came back to her face and her cheeks started to burn with embarrassment, Lydia held her breath and studied Nancy, who was oblivious to Lydia’s reaction while she conversed with Amanda.

  “Oh yes,” Nancy said, nodding for emphasis. “They’re out of control. If Mahlon’s dat knew what he was doing, he’d —”

  “What was that about Mahlon?” Mammi asked, facing them again and wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

  Lydia felt sick. Surely Nancy hadn’t seen me Sunday night. If she had, she’d have said something by now.

  “We were just talking about a few of our friends,” Nancy said quickly. “Some of them left the singing to do their own thing.”

  “Oh.” Mammi gave them a little smile. “Maed, you know gossiping is a sin, ya?”

  “Ya, Mammi,” Amanda and Nancy said in unison before moving back to the work counter.

  Lydia fiddled with the ribbons hanging from her prayer covering while crossing the kitchen. She hoped to disappear into the bathroom to allow her cheeks to cool down without having to explain why she was blushing.

  “Lydia.” Mammi’s voice sounded above the conversations swirling and the fans humming. “Lydia, please slow down.”

  Lydia swallowed hard and faced her grandmother. “Was iss letz?” Her voice cracked a little, but she hoped she sounded normal.

  “Let’s go for a walk, mei liewe.” Mammi looped her arm around Lydia’s shoulders and steered her out the back door to the parking lot.

  While they walked, Lydia surveyed the familiar property she’d known since birth. Out behind the bakery was a fenced-in play area where a few of her young cousins ran around, playing tag and climbing on a huge wooden swing set that had been built by her uncles. Her cousin Jane, Nancy’s younger sister, looked up from the bench where she sat watching the children and waved as Lydia and her grandmother started across the parking lot. A few cars were parked in the lines, and Lydia knew the lot would be full before noontime. The tourist season was settling in on Lancaster County, and the bakery was a favorite spot for visitors to purchase goodies and souvenirs.

  Beyond the playground was a fenced pasture with three large farmhouses. And four barns were set back beyond it. All of the property was owned by Lydia’s grandparents, Elizabeth and Eli Kauffman. The dirt road leading to the homes was roped off with a sign declaring “Private Property — No Trespassing.” One home was occupied by her uncle Timothy, aunt Miriam, and their daughter, while her aunt Sarah Rose, uncle Luke, and their children lived in the second house. The last and biggest home was where Lydia’s mother and her five siblings grew up and where her grandparents still resided. Lydia and her family lived a few miles away in the house in which her father and his older brother had grown up.

  Lydia and Mammi crossed the vast parking lot and sat on a bench together, facing the white clapboard farmhouse that served as the bakery.

  “Wie geht’s?” Mammi asked with her arm still resting on Lydia’s shoulders.

  “Fine,” Lydia said with a shrug. “How are you, Mammi?”

  “I’m well, but you seem to have something weighing on your mind. I want to be sure you are okay.” Mammi rubbed Lydia’s shoulder while she spoke. “I know Ruthie’s illness is taking a toll on the family. I spoke with your mamm yesterday afternoon, and she sounded very worried. If you need to talk, you know you can always open up to me, ya?”

  “Danki, but I’m gut,” Lydia said, her voice sounding thick. She absently studied the tall sign with “Kauffman Amish Bakery” in old-fashioned letters that hung above the front door.

  “One of my favorite Bible verses comes from Psalms,” Mammi said. “I ran across it last night during our devotional time.”

  “Oh?” Lydia looked up at her.

  “It’s from Psalm fifty-nine,” she said, folding her hands over her black apron. “‘But I will sing of your strength, in the morning I will sing of your love; for you are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble.’” She gave Lydia a little smile. “Does that give you any comfort?”

  “Ya, it does,” Lydia said. “It makes sense. We need to lean on the Lord during the rough times.”

  “That’s exactly right,” Mammi said, squeezing Lydia’s hands in hers. “I know it may seem like God has forgotten you, your parents, and your sister. But he hasn’t.”

  Lydia forced a smile. “I know.”

  Mammi looked at her with concern. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about while we’re out here alone?”

  Lydia shook her head. “No. Everything else is okay.” She knew lying is a sin, but how could she admit that she had behaved inappropriately Sunday night? Besides, Nancy didn’t spot her, so she’d gotten away with the drinking. She didn’t need to worry about it anymore.

  A few more cars pulled into the parking lot and steered into spaces.

  Still holding Lydia’s hands, her grandmother stood and pulled Lydia up. “Let’s head back inside. It’s going to get busy soon.” Looping her arm around Lydia’s shoulders once again, Mammi steered her toward the back door. “If you ever need someone to listen, you know you can always talk to me, ya?”

  “Ya,” Lydia said. “Danki, Mammi.”

  “Gern gschehne,” Mammi said. “Don’t you forget that,” she assured Lydia again. “I’m always available to listen if you need an ear, and our conversations will remain private if you would like them to, as long as I’m not breaking any rules with your parents.”

  Lydia gazed up at the clear blue sky, hoping her parents were receiving good news so their lives would become normal again.

  4

  Later that afternoon, Lydia balanced a box full of pastries while Titus schlepped along beside her and Irma raced on toward the Andersons’ house.

  “I don’t see why we have to do this,” Titus muttered, crossing his arms in front of his thin body. “I know they’re new in the neighborhood, but why do we have to take them dessert?”

  “Because it’s the right and proper thing to do,” Lydia said. “Irma! Slow down before you fall.” She looked back at her brother. At twelve, he was the spitting image of their father, with light brown hair and matching eyes. “Why are you so glum?”

  “Why do you think?” He kicked a rock as he walked. “Didn’t you see Mamm and Dat’s faces tonight? They aren’t saying it out loud yet, but it’s bad news about Ruthie.”

  Lydia sighed, thinking back to when she’d entered the kitchen after work. Her mother’s eyes were red and puffy, evidence that she’d been crying. Her father’s eyes were filled with despair. Seeing her parents that way was hard to bear. Lydia had put on a brave face, but she was falling apart inside.

  When she asked what the doctors had said, her father asked her to take Titus and Irma to meet the new family and deliver the baked goods she’d brought home, as planned. He promised they would talk later.

  “Ya, you’re right, Titus,” Lydia admitted. “It has to be bad news about Ruthie. I was hoping I’d imagined their moods, but it’s definitely bad.”

  Looking up at her, Titus’s eyes were full of worry. “What are we going to do?”

  She shrugged, not knowing the answer. “I guess we’ll find out what it is and then support Mamm and Dat in any way we can.”

  “Do you think I can quit school and get a job?” he asked. “Maybe that would help since Mamm isn’t working. I could see if Grossdaadi would hire me at the furniture store. I once helped him make a chair, so I know I can do it.”

  Lydia smiled down at her brother, impressed by his selflessness. “I think we should wait and see what Dat says. I believe he’ll want you to finish school before you start working. You only have two years left. Maybe you can take on more chores or even go to work with Dat if he has to work on a Saturday, ya?
”

  “That sounds like a gut plan,” Titus agreed. “I’ll ask if I can do more.”

  Irma reached the path leading to the front door of the Andersons’ house, and she gave them an impatient wave. “Come on! Hurry up!”

  “We’re coming,” Lydia said. “If I run I may drop this box, and we’ll have a mess.” She and Titus caught up with Irma, and they walked to the front porch together. “Now remember,” she began as they climbed the steps, “use your manners. Be respectful and smile.” She looked at Titus. “You need to smile too. I know it’s difficult, but Mamm and Dat would want us to be welcoming.”

  Titus nodded, but his expression remained stoic. “Ya, I know.”

  Irma hurried to the door. “I’ll ring the bell!” She pushed the button and grinned up at the door. With her light hair and blue eyes, her middle sister probably mirrored their mother at the age of seven.

  The bell rang out on the other side of the door, and soon they heard footsteps. The door slowly creaked open, revealing a beaming Michaela. “Hi!” she said. “Mommy, it’s my Amish friend! Come meet her.”

  “Michaela!” a feminine voice called. “I asked you to wait for me before you opened the door.” A woman who looked about Lydia’s parents’ age came around the corner and smiled. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Anderson,” Lydia said, holding out the box. “I’m Lydia Bontrager, and this is my brother, Titus, and my sister Irma. We want to welcome you to the neighborhood. I brought you some treats from my grandmother’s bakery.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” Mrs. Anderson said, taking the box. “That is so kind of you.” She made a sweeping gesture toward the inside of the house. “Please come in.”

  “Thank you,” Lydia said, motioning for her siblings to follow Mrs. Anderson into the home.

  Stepping into the foyer, Lydia peeked into the spacious front room, which she assumed was the family room. Boxes of all shapes and sizes were strewn about the room, and a flat television was sitting on a pedestal in the corner. They passed an open staircase on their way to the large kitchen, where more boxes sat stacked on the counters, center island, and floor. Utensils, gadgets, and dishware clogged the counters that were not covered in boxes. A small dinette set positioned in a nook was the only clean space Lydia could see.

  “Please excuse the mess,” Mrs. Anderson said. “As you can see, we’re still working on getting situated. Moving takes so much time. I told my husband this is the absolute last move. We’ve moved six times since we were married, and I’m not doing it again. He can bury me at this house.” She smiled at them.

  “I imagine moving is a hassle,” Lydia offered as she stood by the refrigerator. She could see Irma smiling at Michaela, who babbled on and on about her new room.

  “Mommy,” Michaela said, turning toward her mother. “May I take Irma upstairs to see my new room?”

  Mrs. Anderson looked at Lydia. “Would it be okay if your sister followed Michaela upstairs for a tour?”

  “Yes,” Lydia said with a smile. “That would be fine.”

  Grabbing Irma’s arm, Michaela pulled her toward the stairs. “You have to meet my puppy, Bitsy. She’s locked in the bathroom right now so she doesn’t get into boxes. She’s in time-out after pulling out all of my socks and chewing holes through them.”

  Lydia couldn’t help her grin. She enjoyed hearing Michaela prattle on about her puppy.

  “My daughter is a bit of a chatterbox.” Mrs. Anderson motioned toward the table. “Please, have a seat.”

  “Thank you.” Lydia looked toward the table and waved an encouraging hand at Titus. “Go ahead and sit.” She followed him to the table, where they sat across from Mrs. Anderson, who opened the box and gawked at the cookies and pieces of cakes and pies. “I hope you like desserts,” Lydia said. “I brought a variety of our best sellers.”

  Mrs. Anderson pulled out a butterscotch macaroon cookie and took a bite. “This is fantastic, Lydia. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome,” Lydia said. “As I said before, we want to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

  The back door swung open and Tristan crossed into the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag. “Dad ran to the—” He stopped speaking when he saw Lydia and Titus. “Lydia! How are you?”

  “I’m doing well,” Lydia said. “This is my brother, Titus. Titus, this is Tristan.”

  “Hi,” Titus said with a quick wave. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” Tristan said. His eyes moved to the box on the table. “What do you have there, Mom?”

  “Goodies from Lydia’s grandmother’s bakery.” Mrs. Anderson tipped the box toward him. “Wash your hands and come try one of these cookies. They are absolutely mouthwatering.”

  “Oh, wow.” Tristan crossed to the sink, where he scrubbed his hands. “Thank you, Lydia.”

  “You’re welcome.” Lydia absently fiddled with a napkin. “I tried to choose a variety for you.”

  “It’s really cool that your grandmother has a bakery,” Tristan said. “Is it close by?”

  Lydia nodded. “It’s not far at all. I usually walk there on the days I need to work.”

  “My grandmother and aunts make the best desserts in the world,” Titus chimed in.

  “Really?” Mrs. Anderson smiled. “Tristan, would you please grab those disposable plates and utensils left over from lunch?” She pointed to the counter. “Would you like a cookie or piece of cake, Lydia?”

  “Oh, no, thank you,” Lydia said. “I’m really not hungry right now. I guess I ate too much at lunch.” In truth, seeing her parents so upset had stolen her appetite.

  “Titus!” Irma’s voice rang out from the stairway. “Come meet Michaela’s puppy!”

  Titus looked over at Lydia, his eyes asking for permission.

  “Go on,” Lydia said.

  “Excuse me,” Titus said to Mrs. Anderson before trotting out of the kitchen and disappearing up the stairs.

  “Would you like a drink?” Tristan asked. “My mom picked up a gallon of iced tea this morning at the store.”

  “That would be nice,” Lydia said. “Thank you.”

  Tristan delivered three glasses of iced tea to the table. He then sat across from Lydia and placed plates, napkins, and utensils on the table that bore the logo for a local sandwich shop. He peeked into the box of goodies and grinned. “Wow. This looks amazing. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome,” Lydia said before sipping the sweet tea. “I picked out my favorites too.”

  “You said your dad ran somewhere?” Mrs. Anderson asked Tristan.

  “Yeah.” Tristan bit into a whoopie pie. “He left to get more parts for my car. Hope we can get it running tonight. I found Dad’s tools while we were unpacking, so I asked him to look at the car. The sooner it runs, the sooner I can get my license. And before you ask, Mom, I did find the papers that prove I took driving lessons back in Jersey.”

  “That’s great. But shouldn’t you finish unpacking first?” his mother asked.

  “Yes, but I can’t go looking for a job without a car,” he said with a gentle smile. Tristan gave Lydia a sideways glance that seemed to say “aren’t parents cute sometimes?” and she suppressed a giggle.

  “Very true.” Mrs. Anderson turned to Lydia. “Your grandmother is a wonderful baker.”

  “Thank you,” Lydia said, running her fingers over the condensation on the glass. “She has taught me a lot. My mother has too.”

  “Lydia teaches at the one-room schoolhouse a couple of blocks up the street.” Tristan pointed as if directing her to the school. “You teach there on the days you aren’t at the bakery, right?”

  “That’s right,” Lydia said. “Assistant teaching is only a part-time job, so all of the Amish assistant teachers have other jobs too.”

  “Really?” His mother looked fascinated. “How interesting.” She smiled and then picked up a pecan delight cookie. “How many students do you have?”

  Lydia sipped her drink. “We have twenty-five.”r />
  “And the school is really only one room?” Tristan asked as he pulled a couple of butterscotch macaroon cookies from the box.

  “That’s right,” Lydia explained. “It’s truly just one room with outhouses outside.”

  “Outhouses.” Tristan shook his head. “That’s wild. I’d love to see the inside of the school sometime. It’s so different from what we experience in public school.”

  Lydia smiled. “Maybe I can show you if you’re nearby one afternoon when we’re locking up. I can’t let you in during the school day because it would be too disruptive. But I think it would be okay with the teacher if I gave you a quick tour after school sometime. She’s very nice.”

  Mrs. Anderson continued to look impressed. “How does the teacher manage without you when you’re working at the bakery?”

  “The children are mostly well behaved,” Lydia explained while fiddling with the napkin again. “We just have a few rambunctious boys who get into mischief sometimes.”

  Tristan grinned as he finished the butterscotch macaroon cookies. “I was known to get into some mischief when I was younger, right, Mom?”

  His mother chuckled. “Yes, you gave your father and me a few gray hairs.” She took one more cookie and then closed the box. “I’m going to ruin my dinner if I keep eating these. This was so nice of you, Lydia. I would love to meet your parents sometime. Maybe we can come up for a visit.”

  “Oh,” Lydia said, touching the ties on her prayer covering while she considered the offer. I don’t think Mamm and Dat would enjoy that right now. “That would be very nice, Mrs. Anderson. But I don’t think this is the best time to visit. My youngest sister has been ill for a while. Her name is Ruthie, and she’s four, like Michaela. She’s seen quite a few doctors, and it’s been really difficult to handle at our house. I know that my parents would enjoy meeting you, but I think we need to wait until we know what’s going on with my sister.”

  Mrs. Anderson and Tristan both frowned.