by Amy Clipston
“When do you miss Mamm and Ruthie the most?” Irma asked.
Taking a deep breath, Lydia exhaled and stared at the plain white walls while she considered the question. “I guess I miss them the most at bedtime, because that’s when I get the time to slow down. When I’m working or when I’m making supper, I don’t have time to think about them. But when it’s time for prayers, I have too much time to think about them.”
“That makes sense. That’s when I miss them the most too.” Irma tilted her head. “Do you think Ruthie knows we pray for her every night?”
“Ya.” Lydia said. “She’s heard us pray for other people. When we have devotions with Dat, he always asks us who we’re praying for, right? I’m certain she would know that we pray for her.” She touched Irma’s hand. “Now, it’s time to sleep. No more talking, okay?”
Irma scowled. “You need to tell me why you’re sad.”
Lydia studied Irma’s determined expression. How could she tell her little sister she was sad because she thought Joshua was in love with another girl? How could her seven-year-old sister possibly understand that? “I’m not sad.”
“Ya, you are,” Irma said with emphasis. “Your eyebrows are pointed down when you’re upset. Something has you worried.”
She studied Irma’s colorful quilt and considered her answer. “I’m upset about something very gegisch.”
“What?” Irma’s eyes rounded with interest. “Is it a secret? If it is, I promise I won’t tell anyone, not even my best friend, Lillian.”
“Ya, it sort of is a secret.” Lydia couldn’t help but smile at her sister’s interest. She imagined that even at the age of seven, the girls liked to share secrets on the playground. “I heard something about a bu today that sort of made me angry.”
“About a bu?” Irma scrunched her nose. “Which bu? Was it Joshua?”
Lydia chuckled. “You, Irma, are very perceptive.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means you notice things.” Lydia brushed back more of Irma’s hair. “Nancy and Amanda told me they think Joshua likes a girl who lives in Gordonville.”
“Oh.” Irma frowned. “You’re upset because you wanted him to like you, ya?”
“Ya,” Lydia said. “But it’s okay if he likes her. I guess I’m not meant to be his girlfriend if he chooses another, right?” She hoped she could convince herself to believe those words. “Maybe I’ll meet another bu after Ruthie is well and I can go back to the youth gatherings. I’m young, right? It’s not like I’m going to get married tomorrow. In fact, I’m not even baptized, so I can’t really date. Why am I even worried about this?” She stopped talking when she realized she was rambling and only trying to convince herself that she shouldn’t be upset about Joshua and the mysterious Mary.
“You want to marry Joshua?” Irma’s mouth gaped. “Does he know?”
“No, he doesn’t know.” Lydia suddenly felt silly for sharing so much with her sister. Yet, it was a relief to get this off her chest and out in the open. “Listen, everything I told you is a secret. Please don’t tell anyone, not even Lillian.”
Irma looked serious. “I promise.”
“Danki. Gut nacht.” Leaning over, she kissed Irma’s forehead. “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.” She stood and headed for the door.
“Lydia,” Irma called. “I don’t think Joshua loves that other maedel.”
“Why?” Lydia asked, leaning against the open door.
“Because I see him smile at you a lot,” Irma said with a serious expression. “If he loved that other girl, he wouldn’t smile at you so much. Lillian says that buwe only smile at girls they like. If they frown at you, then they don’t like you.”
Lydia couldn’t stop a smile from turning up her lips. “You’re right, Irma. They don’t smile at girls they don’t like.”
Irma continued to look serious. “Have you ever thought about asking him if he likes you?”
“I don’t know if I could do that,” Lydia said. “Mamm says girls shouldn’t be forward. It can give the wrong impression.”
Irma shrugged. “It’s just a question, ya?”
“Ya,” Lydia said. “It is.” But I could never ask it. “Gut nacht,” she repeated.
“Gut nacht,” Irma said. “I’m glad you’re here to take care of me and Titus while Mamm is gone. I miss her, but I really like talking to you.”
An overwhelming feeling of love mixed with hope swelled in Lydia’s heart. “Danki,” she said softly, as her voice quaked with emotion. “That’s really, really nice. That makes me froh to hear you say that. Now, get to sleep.”
“Okay,” Irma said with a grin. “And your secret is safe with me.” She then stuck her thumb in her mouth, closed her eyes, and rolled to her side while hugging her doll close.
13
Can you possibly come in tomorrow and help with the class art projects?” Barbie asked as she packed up her bag the following day. “I could use an extra set of hands with the cutting and gluing.”
“Of course,” Lydia said, following her toward the schoolhouse door. “I can leave a message at the bakery tonight. My aunt has asked a few more bakers to come in and help us since we’ve been short staffed without my mammi. Since we’re getting more help, I’m certain it will be fine for me to work here tomorrow.”
Barbie pushed the door open. “Danki. I appreciate your—” She paused, and her expression turned to concern. “May I help you?” she asked, her voice filled with anxiety.
Lydia stood on tiptoe to see past her and saw Tristan sauntering up the rock path. “Tristan!” She waved, and he smiled in response. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Hi, Lydia,” he called as he approached the steps. “I thought I’d stop by and see if you were around. I got out of school early today.” He looked at Barbie and held out his hand. “I’m Tristan Anderson. I recently moved here from New Jersey.”
Silently, Barbie marched down the stairs and past him. Turning back toward the school, she shot Lydia a disapproving look. “It’s time to go home, Lydia.”
“I know,” Lydia said. “How are you doing, Tristan?” She gave him a nervous smile.
“Fine,” he said. “I was wondering if I could get that tour of the schoolhouse you promised me.”
“Oh.” Lydia looked at Barbie, who shook her head and continued to look concerned. “I’m going to give Tristan a quick tour. He’s interested in seeing one of our schools since he’s grown up in public English schools.”
“I don’t think that would be wise,” Barbie said, hefting her bag farther up on her shoulder. “It’s getting late. Isn’t your aenti waiting for you to get home and take over with the kinner?”
“I’ll make it quick,” Lydia said, stepping back into the school. “Come on in, Tristan.”
“Don’t forget,” Barbie called. “I need you here tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Lydia called. “Good night, Barbie.” She led Tristan into the school. “This is our exciting school,” she joked. “You can see it’s just one room with a lot of desks, books, and a blackboard.”
“Wow,” Tristan said, stepping through the doorframe and glancing around the room. “It really is one room. Are you sure it’s okay if I come in?”
“Of course it is.” Lydia looked back out the door to find Barbie shaking her head and scowling at Lydia before walking back down the path. Lydia tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling surging through her as she turned toward Tristan, who was standing in front of the blackboard and studying the math problems the students had worked on earlier. She dropped her bag by the door.
“This is incredible,” he said, rubbing his chin. “You don’t see an old-fashioned blackboard and chalk anymore.”
“Old-fashioned?” Lydia stood beside him. “How is a chalkboard old-fashioned?”
“You don’t see them in schools anymore,” he explained. “My mom worked as a teacher’s assistant in an elementary school last year, and every classroom there had those
dry-erase boards.”
Lydia shrugged. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It’s where you write on it with special pens and then you wipe it off with an eraser, kinda like these.” Tristan picked up the eraser from the little shelf below the chalkboard and held it in front of him. “You just wipe it off.” He scrunched his nose. “The only disadvantage to those boards is that the pens smell awful. Sometimes they’ll make you cough.”
Lydia smiled at his exaggerated expression. “I’ve been known to cough from a dust cloud caused by the chalk, so it may be much the same.”
He smiled. “I would imagine so.” He gestured toward the chalkboard. “In the more high-tech classrooms, I’ve seen a board that’s called a Smart Board.”
“Smart Board?” Lydia crossed her arms. “Does it teach the class their math problems and correct their school work?”
Tristan rubbed his chin, pretending to consider the question. “No, I don’t think they’re quite that smart, but I believe the experts are working on the technology.”
Lydia grinned. “So then what makes the board so smart?”
He pointed at the chalkboard as if it were the technologically advanced device he explained. “A Smart Board looks like a dry erase board, but it’s really almost like a computer screen. It can be hooked up to a computer and then act like a keyboard, where you go to Internet pages. It’s really cool. We had one at my high school last year. I used to wonder how the principal decided which teacher was important enough to get the hi-tech screen while the others only had dry erase boards.”
“Wow.” Lydia shook her head. “It seems to me like the new kinds of boards are just a waste of money when they do the same thing the chalkboard does. Why do you need to use it like a computer when you can simply write on the board and erase it when you’re finished?”
“Very true.”
She made a sweeping gesture toward the desks. “I assume the desks look the same in an English classroom?”
Tristan stepped toward the rows. “They are. Do the children sit in rows according to their grade like on Little House on the Prairie?”
“Yes.” Lydia leaned back against Barbie’s desk at the front of the room. “They do, with first grade in the front and the seventh graders in the back. We don’t have kindergarten in our schools. The eighth graders sort of do an apprenticeship where they work in the community or at home and keep a journal of what they’ve learned. They only come in about once a week, depending on where they work and their schedules.”
“That’s fascinating.” Tristan walked along the rows, studying them.
“You’ll graduate next year, right?” Lydia asked.
“That’s right,” he said with a clap. “I can’t wait.”
“What will you do then?”
“I want to go to college. I may even follow in the family business, so to speak, and become a teacher, but I’m not sure yet. Hopefully, I’ll figure it out when I’m at college.”
“Will Lexi go to college too?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “We’re going to apply to the same schools.”
“That’s wonderful.”
He met her gaze. “How about you?”
Lydia fiddled with the ties of her prayer covering. “I’m not sure. I may see about becoming a full-time teacher or I may work in the bakery full time.”
He grinned. “So you may follow in the family business too, huh?”
“I might.” Lydia pushed her foot over the wooden floor. “I’m not certain quite yet.”
Tristan looked around the classroom again. “Tell me something. How do you keep the other kids quiet when you’re teaching one grade?”
“The children are mostly well behaved,” Lydia said, hopping up and sitting on the corner of Barbie’s desk. “Amish children have a very strict upbringing, and they know there will be serious consequences if they don’t behave.”
He looked impressed.
“For the most part, they all listen and are quiet when they need to be.” She smoothed her skirt over her legs. “If they aren’t doing what they’re supposed to, then we warn them. Occasionally someone has to sit in the corner. If that doesn’t work, the child knows we’ll tell their father, which is the ultimate punishment.”
“Wow.” Tristan lowered himself onto a desk. “Have you had to do that?”
Lydia nodded. “We’ve had a couple of incidents with a few rowdy boys, but it’s not very often. And usually it only happens once, if you know what I mean.”
“Not many repeat offenders, huh?” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe the behavior issues in my last high school. Some of the incidents were pretty violent.”
“This is a different environment, a different culture. Comparing the two would be like comparing apples and oranges.”
“I guess so.” He glanced at the ticking clock on the wall. “I suppose I’d better let you go home. Barbie said your aunt is waiting for you?”
Lydia grabbed the handle of her tote bag and placed it on her shoulder. “My aunts and some other friends in the community have been helping us while my mother is gone with my baby sister. They help me cook, clean, and do the laundry.”
“That’s very nice.” He started toward the door. “Your community truly helps one another.”
“Yes, they do.” She waited until he stepped through the doorway and then she followed, closed the door, and locked it. “We’re very blessed to have so much help. It would be really difficult for me to do it all and do it well.” Lydia followed him down the stairs.
“I’ve heard about those barn raisings,” he said. “Have you been to one?”
“Oh yes, I have,” Lydia said. “My grandfather’s furniture store burned down a few years ago, and my father was one of the men who helped to rebuild it. We always help our friends and family members, and it’s comforting to know that someone will always be there to help, especially when you need it most.”
“It’s really nice how all of your family is nearby,” he said as they walked down the rock pathway toward the road. “My mom’s family is in Florida, and my dad’s is all over the United States—New Jersey, California, Maine, and some are even in Texas.”
“Wow,” Lydia said. “I guess you don’t have family reunions often, ya?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t remember ever having one, really. We’ve visited some relatives, but I’ve never been to California to see my uncle.”
“That’s sad,” Lydia said, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “Does your uncle have children?”
“Yeah.” Tristan pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and slipped them on his face. “He has three sons I’ve never met. One is about my age.”
“That’s really sad,” Lydia said. “My cousin Amanda is my best friend. I can’t imagine not having her in my life.” She adjusted the bag again.
“Is that heavy?” he asked. “Can I carry it for you?”
“No, thank you,” she said. “I’m fine. Where’s your car?”
He motioned toward his house as they walked past it. “I left it in the driveway. I thought I would walk over to the schoolhouse to see if you were still there.” His happy countenance faded a little. “I guess I came at a bad time, huh?”
“You mean because of Barbie?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He ran his fingers through his messy hair. “She wasn’t too happy to meet me.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry about Barbie. She’s really a nice person, but not everyone is supportive of an Amish girl’s being friends with an Englisher.”
“An Englisher?” He laughed a little. “I’ve been called a lot of things but never that.”
“Lydia!” A little voice hollered. “Wait up! Don’t leave!” Michaela bounded down her driveway.
“Hi, Michaela,” Lydia said as the little girl approached.
The little girl wrapped her arms around Lydia’s waist. “I’ve missed you.”
Lydia smiled down at her. “I’ve missed you t
oo. We’ll have to visit again soon.”
“Lydia has to get home to her brother and sister,” Tristan said. “We have to let her go for now, but maybe we’ll visit again soon.”
Michaela looked at Lydia with disappointment. “Oh. Bye, Lydia.”
“Good-bye,” Lydia said. “Give Bitsy a hug for me.”
“Okay,” Michaela said with a smile. “I promise I will.”
“Good.” Lydia turned to Tristan. “It was nice seeing you. Please tell your parents hello for me.”
“I will,” he said. “Thanks for the tour.”
“You’re welcome,” Lydia said before starting back down the road toward her house.
Glancing toward the house where Barbie’s aunt Deborah lived, she saw Barbie standing on the porch and talking to her aunt. As Lydia passed the house, she waved. While Barbie’s aunt returned the wave, Barbie simply frowned. Lydia felt the muscles in her shoulders and neck tightening up with worry.
Walking up her driveway, Lydia wondered how long it would take for news of her schoolhouse tour to travel through the community, and what the repercussions would be.
“I’d like to speak with you after school,” Barbie whispered to Lydia as the children packed up their supplies at the end of the following day. “It’s regarding what happened here yesterday.”
Lydia swallowed a sigh as Barbie moved to the door and dismissed the children.
“We’ll see you at home!” Irma passed by Lydia as she headed to the door. “Gut nacht, Barbie!”
“Gut nacht, Irma,” Barbie said with a forced smile. While Barbie said good-bye to each child as they left, Lydia began straightening up books and the desks that were no longer in a row. She was grabbing the broom when Barbie stepped back into the classroom.
“I’m very disappointed in you, Lydia,” Barbie began. “It was inappropriate for you to have that English bu in this schoolhouse yesterday, especially since you were alone with him.”
Lydia leaned on the broom. “Barbie, I know that it may have looked bad, but we’re just friends.”
“So you say.” Barbie gestured with emphasis as she moved to the front of the classroom. “If the parents or the school board had been here and witnessed your taking an Englisher into this schoolhouse without a chaperone, they would have assumed you have loose morals and you are not the best role model for their children.”
