Lindy didn’t dare look at Robert. She glanced away, studying the fridge door like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. But when the silence stretched into acute discomfort, she couldn’t help herself. She looked at him. He was staring at her, his eyes gray now. His pupils were large and luminous and the look on his face was so serious that she blanched.
“What?” she eked out.
He blinked and shook his head. “Well. She’s ill, Lindy. That probably accounts for such talk.” And with that, he walked out of the kitchen, back toward the front room.
Lindy didn’t move. His words pierced the air, penetrating her like knives. She blinked back tears and was furious with herself. Why should Robert’s words hurt her? It was true—Berta was ill. And it very well could be her illness talking. But the way he’d dismissed it, like the entire idea was absurd, stung.
Lindy swallowed with difficulty, still scolding herself for her reaction. Robert was courting Rachel. What had she hoped would happen when she told him what his mother had said? That he’d take her in his arms and proclaim the truth of his mother’s words. That he loved her beyond reason; that he couldn’t live without her?
Lindy’s vision blurred as the tears gathered in her eyes. She wiped at them impatiently and went to the cupboard to get down the dishes. She didn’t want to sit with Robert at the dining table that evening. She didn’t even want to see him again that day. And now, here she was spending the night.
Ach. What a mess she’d created.
Berta. Berta. Berta. Lindy needed to put her attention where it belonged. She was here for Berta. Not for Robert. Nor for Reuben, for that matter.
But her tears kept coming, and she was helpless to stop them. She had no energy to get supper on the table. She decided to dish up the plates in the kitchen instead. She put the tiniest bit of casserole on a plate for Berta. She filled her plate and Robert’s. Then she took Robert’s plate to the dining area and set it down, along with a glass of fresh milk. She carried her plate and Berta’s to the front room.
Robert looked up when she entered.
“Your supper is on the table,” she told him.
He gave her a confused look and then focused on the two plates in her hands. “You’re eating in here?”
She nodded, looking away.
“I see,” he said slowly. He got up and walked toward the door, pausing briefly by her side as if he were going to say something further, but decided against it.
“I told Rachel you’d be by around eight,” Lindy said tautly, settling herself down beside the sleeping Berta.
“I … see,” he said again.
“If you need anything else, you let me know.” Her voice was stiff, almost mechanical.
“Lindy…” he started, and there was supplication in his voice, but then he merely said, “Thank you,” and left the room.
Lindy set Berta’s plate on the bedside table to be ready when she awoke. And then she set about eating her own supper. Her mother’s casserole tasted familiar, comforting, but she still had trouble getting it down. Her throat was tight and seemed to be blocked by unshed tears. She took a deep, gulping breath and forced down another bite.
Chapter Nine
Robert hitched up the buggy and then headed inside to tell Lindy he was leaving. He felt rotten. He’d hurt her—he was sure of that. He wasn’t sure exactly what had happened. What he did know was when Lindy told him what his mother had said, he’d panicked. It was odd. Like fear had grabbed him by the throat. His reaction was ridiculous, really, and he couldn’t understand why he’d reacted so strongly.
Why in the world had his mother said that to Lindy? If anything, she should have told him. Why tell her? His mother had told Lindy that he loved her. How in the world could she do such a thing?
He didn’t love Lindy. He couldn’t. He was courting Rachel. And even though Rachel had disappointed him more than once during the last few weeks, that wasn’t enough to change things. Everyone made mistakes, like he’d told himself many times.
It was just confusing with having Lindy around all the time. And she was beautiful and sweet and helpful. He’d grown used to depending on her, and frankly, she never let him down.
He gave himself a shake. That didn’t mean he had feelings for her. Ach, but his mother shouldn’t have opened her mouth about it.
“Lindy?”
She turned from Berta to where he stood in the doorframe. “Jah?”
“I’m going now.” Awkwardness gripped him. He licked his lips and pressed his hat further down on his forehead. “Do you … do you need anything?”
She shook her head.
He took a step forward. “Look, if you’d rather I don’t go, just say so. I’m happy to stay home tonight.”
She studied him. “Nee,” she said. “Rachel will be waiting.”
“Jah. Rachel…” For some reason, he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay there—in that room—with his mother and Lindy. He wanted to simply sit with them. Watch his mother breathe. Feel Lindy’s presence. Draw strength from her. And perhaps lend his strength to her. It would be a calm, peaceful evening. Something precious.
He blanched. He needed to get out of there now. He needed to leave. To go.
“Gut-bye,” he said abruptly, forcing his feet to move, forcing his legs to carry him out to the buggy. When he got home, Lindy would still be there. It was an odd thought.
A comforting thought that made his blood surge through his veins. He blinked and climbed into the buggy, picking up the reins, and snapping them on his pony’s backside.
“Let’s go, Prince,” he called out, but Prince was already on his way.
* * *
It didn’t take long to reach the Shelter farm. When he pulled off the road, Rachel stepped out from behind a large oak tree. She waved at him. He smiled and was grateful he felt a bit excited at seeing her. She got into the buggy and the aroma of soap and something else sweet accompanied her.
“Hello, Robert,” she said, smiling widely.
“Hello, Rachel.”
“Ach, but I’m glad you’re back.”
He gave a start and then remembered she thought he’d been in Ohio.
“Um, thanks. I’m glad to be back,” he said, inwardly cringing at his lie. His impersonation of his brother had caused so many untruths. Hopefully, this was the last one. And really, the whole plan had been a complete waste—he hadn’t fooled his mother.
Instead, he’d been completely ineffectual in the entire matter. He hadn’t brought his brother home. He hadn’t comforted his mother with “Reuben’s” presence. He hadn’t done anything but make dear Lindy lie. And himself lie, too.
“How was your trip?”
“Huh?” he asked, focusing back on Rachel. Her brown eyes shone up at him.
“Uh, it was fine. Fast.”
She giggled. “Every time I ride in a car, I think it’s fast. If I open the window, I fear the wind will take my kapp right off.” She laughed again.
“It’s amazing, ain’t so?” he added, glad to be talking about the speed of cars. That was surely a safe subject.
“Lindy tells me Reuben will be returning soon.”
Robert nodded. “That’s the hope.”
“I know Lindy has been mighty concerned about Reuben. Mighty concerned,” she emphasized.
Robert glanced at her. Why was she making such a big deal out of it? What had Lindy told her? Hadn’t Lindy told her Reuben had gone Englisch—at least temporarily?
“She’s sweet on him, you know,” Rachel went on, smoothing her dress over her knees.
Was she warning him off? Did she think he was sweet on Lindy?
He didn’t answer her, but then, it hadn’t been a question. Either way, he said nothing. The silence grew awkward, but he refused to talk about Lindy and Reuben.
“How’s your mother?” she finally asked.
“Not doing very well,” he stated. He didn’t really want to talk about his mother with Rachel, either.
“I’m so sorry. Did she eat anything today? Mamm sent over that casserole, you know.”
“It was nice of her.”
“Did you have some?”
“Jah. Lindy served it for supper.”
“I suppose you and Lindy sit in the dining room by yourselves to eat. Or does Berta sit with you.”
He looked at her. “Mamm is too sick to come to the table now.”
“Oh,” she said, her cheeks flushing pink. “So, it’s the two of you at the table alone?” Her voice was sweet, but he heard the accusation beneath it.
“Lindy ate supper with Mamm in the front room,” he said tersely.
“Oh.” Rachel visibly relaxed. “That’s nice.”
He snapped the reins, and Prince sped up. Robert was getting annoyed. All he really wanted to do was take Rachel back to her house and go home.
They rode in silence for quite a while. Rachel started to fidget, clasping and unclasping her apron. He felt guilty—this wasn’t a very nice evening drive.
“Do you want to go to Edmund’s Pond?” he asked. “We could take a stroll.”
She perked up. “That’d be right nice. Thank you, Robert.”
He smiled. She really was quite pleasant, and he did like her. He was probably just stressed that evening—that was why he wasn’t very pleased to be with her. Stressed. Yes. That was surely the reason. He turned the buggy around as soon as they came to a wide spot in the road. He headed back toward Edmund’s Pond.
“There’s a Youth Singing this Sunday evening,” she said. “After preaching service. We’re meeting at the Kings’ place this Sunday.”
“I know.”
“Will you be going? To the Youth Singing?”
“I-I don’t know, Rachel. If I do, I’ll give you a ride home, but in truth, it’s going to depend on how Mamm is doing.”
“But Lindy will be with her, won’t she?”
He looked at her, annoyed all over again. “Jah, she will. But Berta is my mamm, Rachel. I want to be there for her.” He spoke harshly, and he saw the effect his tone had on her. She shriveled into herself, slumping, and inwardly, he groaned. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But you do understand, don’t you?”
“Of course,” she said primly. “Of course, I do.” She put on a smile. “If you’d like, I can come over to your farm. Visit with my sister. Help out, if I can.”
That was the last thing he wanted, and he had no idea why. Why shouldn’t she come over? Lindy might like to have her sister around for a bit.
“I’ll talk to Lindy about it.”
“You’ll…” She gave him a curious look, and he was sure he saw anger flash in her eyes, but then it was gone. “All right. I’ll mention it to her, too.”
“Here we are.” He secured the reins after pulling into the dirt parking spot at the end of the pond. “Give me a minute, and I’ll come around and open your door.”
Rachel stayed put until he circled the buggy and opened her door. She immediately grabbed his hand as they began walking. He looked down at her fingers interlaced with his and wondered if Lindy’s hand was equally soft. He thought her hands might be bigger than Rachel’s. She was taller and lankier. Lindy had the looks of a gymnast he’d once seen on a television screen. He’d been in a large store in Linder’s Creek, and had passed through the electronics section. All the televisions were blaring, and they were showing some kind of competition.
Despite himself, he’d paused and watched. It was hard not to. And the things those girls could do—flipping through the air and bending in ways he didn’t think possible. And they were wearing nothing more than their underwear as far as he could tell. But it was mesmerizing. And graceful. And strong.
They reminded him of Lindy—the way she carried herself with such confidence and strength.
Rachel was shorter, softer-looking.
“Look!” Rachel cried, pointing.
He drew himself out of his reverie and followed her gaze. A swan was paddling across the surface of the pond, her reflection shimmering at her side. They stopped walking and watched her move slowly across the water.
“Beautiful,” he said softly.
“Isn’t it, though?” Rachel smiled. “It’s peaceful here. Thank you for bringing me.”
Her voice was soft and when he looked into her eyes, he could tell she wanted him to kiss her. The invitation was there, and it was unmistakable. And he could kiss her; they were courting. He’d kissed her before, but mainly on the cheek. They had kissed on the lips, once, weeks ago.
Something in him balked. He didn’t want to kiss her. He wanted to take her home and hurry back to his mother’s side. But he also didn’t want to hurt her feelings. He leaned close and turned his head slightly, brushing his lips across her cheek. He could almost hear her sigh of disappointment.
“Shall we go back?” he asked.
“So soon?”
“If you don’t mind. I’m a bit concerned about Mamm.”
She showed no reaction to his words, and he was grateful for that. He felt suddenly impatient and if she said anything, he might snap at her. He turned back toward the buggy and nearly pulled her after him. She scurried to keep pace.
“Uh, thank you for the ride, Robert.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry I’m a bit harried tonight.”
She squeezed his hand. “It’s understandable.”
He raised a brow and glanced at her. She wasn’t looking at him, so he couldn’t see her eyes or guess what she was thinking. He only hoped her comment was sincere. On the way back to her place, she chatted airily about the upcoming volleyball game for the youth and about how many jars of beets her mother wanted to put up that year. He hardly had to say a thing, which suited him just fine.
Chapter Ten
Once home, Robert unhitched the buggy and took Prince to his stall. He took a few minutes to brush him down and make sure he had grain and plenty of water. Then he walked slowly back to the house. There was only the barest hint of light in the sky now, and the house was dark. He was disappointed. He wanted to talk to Lindy for a few minutes and ask how the evening had gone. But if the lanterns had been put out, then chances were, both Lindy and his mother were sleeping.
He crept into the house through the side door and slipped out of his shoes. He walked into the kitchen and nearly ran smack dab into Lindy. She gasped and jumped back.
“Ach! Lindy! I’m sorry. I thought you were asleep.”
“I was resting, not asleep. I thought I heard you…”
“You got up to see?” he asked, inordinately pleased.
She seemed to realize what she’d said, and quickly tried to backtrack. “I mean… um… I mean I wanted to make sure it was you and not someone else.”
The comment was ridiculous. Who else would it be? He couldn’t see her face in the darkness, but he was quite sure it would be flaming red. She made a strange noise in her throat and started to back away.
“How was Mamm this evening?” he asked quickly, trying to keep her there.
She paused. “We had an uneventful evening. She chatted a bit. Drank a few sips of tea. Mostly, she slept.”
“Did she take a pain pill?”
“She did.”
Robert stared at her. “Really? How did you get her to do that?”
He could see her shrug in the darkness. “She just took it.”
“Thank you, Lindy. She should have a better night, then.”
“I think so.” She walked to the counter and leaned against it. The moonlight fell through the window, highlighting her silhouette. She was wearing a robe, which must be awfully warm in this weather. But then, she would hardly be walking about otherwise.
“Are you hungry?”
“What?”
Now, why in the world had he asked that? She’d had supper just like he had. Truth was, he was trying to stall. He felt too restless to go up to bed yet, but he had to have some reason for loitering about.
“I just thought you might be hungry.�
�
“I’m not. Are you?” she asked, suddenly concerned. “I can fix you something.”
“Nee. I’m not.”
“How-how was your ride?” she asked, although he heard hesitation in her voice.
“Fine.”
“Gut.”
He searched his mind for something else to say. Anything…
“Uh, Rachel mentioned stopping by during the Youth Singing on Sunday.”
“What? Here, you mean?”
“Jah.”
“But won’t she be going to the Youth Singing? Won’t you?”
“Lindy.” He said her name softly and took a step closer. “I’m not going to a Youth Singing and leaving you here to take care of Mamm alone.”
“But isn’t that why you hired me?”
He sighed. “To help with Mamm while I’m out in the fields or tending the animals. Not to watch her while I’m off at youth activities. Goodness, is that what you think—” He broke off. He was about to ask if that was what she thought of him. Was he fishing for compliments now? Was he hoping she’d counter him by singing his praises?
He was pathetic.
She tilted her head. “I-I’m not sure. I thought you’d be taking Rachel home from the Singing…”
“I told her I wasn’t sure if I was going, and she asked if she could stop by here and visit with you a while.”
“Visiting with me is hardly her motivation.” As soon as the words escaped her mouth, Lindy made a soft choking noise. “I-I’m sorry. That was rude.”
“But true, I fear,” he said, putting some lightness in his voice. “Anyway, she doesn’t have to come by.”
“Don’t you want her to?”
He paused. “I’m, well, I’m not sure.”
“But why ever not?”
“Mamm is used to you. Visitors wear her out.”
Lindy was quiet a moment before saying, “All right. Whatever you say, Robert.”
Whatever you say, Robert. He heard her words and snatched them to himself. Whatever he said? What he wanted to say was, Come here, Lindy, let me hold you. Let me feel your arms around me. Let me bury my face in your neck.
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