by Marta Perry
The door had been opened and she hadn’t even noticed, not until the line began to move. She shivered and walked more quickly, trying to bring her thoughts out of the past and back to today.
It was a relief to get inside. She moved along until she reached her usual place on the backless benches, again wishing Miriam were next to her. Miriam would distract her. But she wasn’t here, and Beth was married, and Lydia felt very alone.
The remaining members of the Leit filed into the barn. At the end of the line was a visitor. Someone must have company visiting from out of town, although she hadn’t heard.
She was still watching as the woman turned around to sit. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart pounded so loud it seemed everyone would hear it. It wasn’t just any visitor. It was Judith, Thomas Burkhalter’s twin sister.
* * *
Lydia was aware of the service going on around her. Somehow she was able to sing, to kneel, to respond, even though her thoughts were churning. Her prayers were a wordless plea for…what? Forgiveness? Strength? Courage?
What she wanted at heart was to be mistaken—to glance behind her at the rows of benches and see that it wasn’t Judith at all. But that wouldn’t happen.
Please, Lord… She reached out for help. Slowly, very slowly, her mind stopped spinning. She could think again.
It had been foolish of her to think that she’d never see any of the Burkhalter family again. They’d only moved to an Amish community in Indiana, not to Alaska. Thomas’s parents had felt it best to seek treatment for Thomas away from here, and she’d been grateful—selfishly so.
Now Judith was here, probably to visit the people she’d grown up with. They were the people Lydia had grown up with, as well. Odd that no one had mentioned her visit, but people may not have known what to say.
The last time she’d seen Judith was the day after the paramedics had taken Thomas to the hospital. Judith hadn’t been short of words then, and Lydia seemed to feel them again, flung at her like stones.
It’s all your fault. My brother might have died, and it’s all your fault. I’ll never forgive you. Never!
No one else but Josiah had heard her, and Lydia knew he would never repeat the words. Nor would she, but that didn’t matter. She’d heard them, and they were engraved on her heart forever.
With immense effort, she brought her thoughts back to the service. The bishop was preaching the long sermon today, and as he often did, he was speaking about forgiveness.
Forgive as you would be forgiven. Forgive your brother seventy times seven. Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.
She had long since forgiven Judith for her harsh words, but she was afraid that Judith had not forgiven her. Never was a very long time.
Judith didn’t need to worry that her words had been wasted, because Lydia had never pardoned herself.
Poor Thomas. If she had been older…if she had been wiser…maybe she’d have known how to deal with him. But she’d been sixteen, and what sixteen-year-old was wise?
The service ended, and as soon as people started to move around, Josiah came across to her and clasped her arm. “Are you all right?” he murmured softly.
“Yah, sure.” She tried to say it with a smile, but it failed miserably. She tried again. “I should speak to her…”
Josiah squeezed her arm tightly. “Don’t even think about it. If she wants to talk, she’ll come to you.” He lowered his voice. “She should be telling you she’s sorry, but I don’t suppose she will.”
“It’s all right.” She patted his arm. “She can’t eat me, ain’t so? I’ll be fine, and you’d best start helping with the tables before you get in trouble with Daad.”
“I will.” He still looked worried. “Promise me you’ll stay around other people, all right?”
She nodded, touched by his concern. For all his bossiness, Josiah was the best brother a girl could ever have, and the only reason she didn’t say that to him was because she knew how he’d react.
Beth came over to her then, and Josiah moved off to help with the tables. The expression in Beth’s soft gaze said she was aware of Judith’s presence, but she didn’t say anything about it. Instead she linked arms with Lydia.
“Komm and help with the serving. You know how those men are—as soon as they have the tables set up, they expect food to appear on them.”
She found a genuine smile that time, knowing well how her brothers always felt about food after the three-hour worship. It couldn’t arrive soon enough. Arm in arm, they headed for the kitchen, where no doubt the King family would appreciate some help.
Sure enough, Rebecca King welcomed them with a huge smile and handed each one a heavy bowl. “Denke. I’d do the running myself, but…”
She didn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t have to. It wouldn’t be talked about in mixed company, but every woman in the community knew that her baby would arrive soon. Very soon, Lydia thought. Rebecca’s husband, Daniel, had been working on the tables outside, but his gaze didn’t often leave the kitchen door, Lydia had noticed.
Such a blessing, she thought, as she hurried to help. Daniel and Rebecca were so happy together it hurt to watch them, and Rebecca’s son by her first marriage would be delighted to be a big brother.
They went back and forth, carrying bowls and trays of food to the wooden tables. The food was typical of after-church lunches, with trays of meat and cheese, bread, and the always popular peanut butter and marshmallow crème spread. In addition, Rebecca and perhaps her sisters-in-law had provided salads and one dessert after another. No one would go away hungry.
Eager to avoid anyone who might want to talk to her about Judith, as well as Judith herself, Lydia appointed herself chief assistant to Rebecca, hanging around the kitchen until Rebecca’s sister-in-law chased her out, saying she should relax and get some dessert.
Lydia went outside, enjoying the increasing warmth of the sun. She started toward the long tables where people were still clustered, feeling oddly uncomfortable. After a moment’s thought, she recognized what was troubling her. Josiah’s words ran right into the bishop’s sermon on forgiveness and shattered there. If she had truly forgiven Judith’s hasty words, didn’t that mean she should do her best to heal the breach between them?
She really would rather not think so, but Grossmammi always said that if the Lord put a duty in front of you, you had to do it. No excuses.
Sighing a little, she pushed the excuses aside and walked steadily toward where Judith, who had stepped back a little from the others, as if to distance herself. Lydia wondered if Judith felt uncomfortable to be back in Lost Creek again.
When she was a step away, she spoke. “Judith?”
Judith swung around to face her, and for a second she looked so like her twin that it was as if Thomas himself stood there.
The words she wanted didn’t come, so she stretched out a hand to Judith, palm up, as if to ask for something. Judith stared at her for another second. Then her face twisted, and she struck Lydia’s hand away, stalking off across the lawn.
* * *
Simon had been watching Lydia. He would have liked to put it some other way, but he couldn’t. He had no idea what had just happened, but he could see Lydia standing there, her face white and frozen, pain and embarrassment written there for everyone to see.
Before Simon realized what he’d done, he’d closed the distance between them to stand between her and the rest of the group, his back an effective screen to keep others from staring and reading what he saw there. That instinct to protect had always been there when it came to the younger ones, and it seemed it still was.
Lyddy blinked and seemed to register that he was there. “Simon, I… I can’t talk…”
“No.” He kept his voice low, leaning toward her a little. “I don’t guess you can. But if you don’t want everyone here to be watching you and w
hispering, you’d best pretend.”
She seemed to come back from whatever numbed state she’d been in. “You saw that.”
“I did, but I don’t think a lot of people did.” That might not be entirely true, but it was what she needed to hear just now. “Just get yourself together, and then I’ll make an excuse and disappear.”
“I’m all right.”
“You look as if someone threw a bucket of cold water over you. And maybe the bucket, too,” he said bluntly.
He expected her to flare up at that, in which case he’d have felt able to walk away. But she didn’t. Whatever had happened between her and that other woman had shaken her badly.
“Here comes Becky. We can take a little walk together.”
Becky slipped up to him and tucked her hand in his. “Lyddy, what’s wrong?”
The question from Becky seemed enough to alert her. “Nothing.” She smiled warmly at his child. He saw Becky respond, but she was still troubled.
“Are you sure?” she persisted. “Why doesn’t that lady like you?”
Lydia stooped down to her level, her smile becoming genuine. Becky was taking her out of her daze better than he had done.
“It’s all right, Becky. She’s just in a bad mood today, I think. It’ll be better tomorrow.”
While Becky considered that, he squeezed his daughter’s hand. “Let’s take a little walk with Lyddy, okay?”
Becky brightened. She held his hand and reached out to grasp Lydia’s. Giving a little hop, she skipped along between them, and much of the strain ebbed out of Lyddy’s face.
Simon watched her as they walked, wondering. “Do you want to tell me about it?” He was hesitant, pretty sure he knew the answer.
Sure enough, Lydia shook her head firmly. “I’m fine. Really. Maybe we shouldn’t be walking off together.”
“Why not?” He raised his eyebrows, wondering what she thought would happen if they took a walk together.
“Because your aunt and my grandmother are watching us.”
He glanced toward them. Sure enough, the two older women had their eyes on him and Lydia, and they were talking in low voices.
He shrugged. “So what?”
“Matchmaking,” she said darkly.
He couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Come to think of it, I have seen a twinkle in Aunt Bess’s eyes when she looks at us. But so what? They won’t bother us, even if they chatter.”
“You don’t know them as well as you think, if you believe that,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Once the two of them get started, they’ll drive us crazy.”
“All we have to do is ignore it, and they’ll stop.”
She paused and looked at him, her gaze pitying. “You poor thing. You really believe that.”
They looked at each other, laughing a little, and he realized he felt a connection again, just as he had when she was a troublesome little kid. As for what happened between Lydia and the Burkhalter girl, he realized he didn’t even need to ask. Either Aunt Bess or Lyddy’s grandmother would be bursting to tell him.
They crossed the lawn and fetched up against the paddock fence. “Relax,” he said.
“Relax? You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shook her head, but she was laughing, too.
Simon let himself relax. They were back to where they’d startled, when she was a mischievous kid leading his siblings into trouble and he was the grown-up. Or at least he’d thought he was.
CHAPTER SIX
Sunday’s sunshine had disappeared, and soon after Lydia arrived at work, the rain started. Her morning coffee guys came in, shaking rain off their jackets before settling at their usual table. When Lydia reached them with mugs in one hand and the coffeepot in the other, they were already grousing about the wet spring.
“I thought I’d get the garden in early this year. Got out my tools, bought a bag of mulch… I should have saved my time.” Frank made a face. “The ground’s so wet it’ll take until June to dry out.”
“Maybe not even then,” one of his buddies said, a twinkle in his eye. “Maybe you should start building an ark.”
Frank flapped his napkin at him while the others laughed. Lydia reached over his shoulder to pour the coffee.
“You just like to look on the gloomy side, that’s all. Cheer up. Who wants cinnamon rolls this morning?”
It turned out they all did, not surprisingly, and Lydia was kept busy for several minutes tending to them. They kept on talking about the weather the whole time, sharing memories of famous floods and trying to top each other’s stories. They made her smile, just as they always did.
Elizabeth came down a little late, but Lydia had noticed she always did after church Sundays. Apparently, the long day still tired her, but she was bright enough now.
“Are they still talking about the weather?” She nodded her head toward the coffee group.
“Mostly reminiscing, I think. I believe they’re back to the flood of ’78 now. Pretty soon they’ll get back to 1899.” Lydia started cleaning up the counter space to be ready for the next customers. “The rain may keep people home this morning.”
“Most likely it has Simon fretting,” Elizabeth said. “He’s that anxious to get this house started you’d think the rain was on purpose to slow him down.”
Lydia’s thoughts flickered to Simon. “You can’t blame him. I’m sure he wants to get Becky settled well before school starts in the fall.”
Elizabeth nodded, but her thoughts seemed to have moved on. “About yesterday…” She lowered her voice, even though there was no one near enough to hear. “Judith Burkhalter had no call to act like that. I was afraid you’d be upset.”
Lydia tried not to let her expression change. “She and Thomas are very close, being twins. She still blames me for what happened.”
“It was not your fault.” Elizabeth was at her tartest. “You’d better not let me hear that you’re blaming yourself, because that’s just plain ferhoodled.”
Turning to the baked goods cabinet, Lydia tried without success to find something that needed rearranged. Anything would do to divert Elizabeth from the subject. When she didn’t respond, Elizabeth clucked disapprovingly.
“At least Simon was quick enough to see you were upset. He always has been a noticing kind of person. It was gut of him to come talk to you so folks were distracted.”
“Yah, it was.” She couldn’t argue with any of that, but she hoped Elizabeth would stop there.
For a few seconds it seemed her wish would be granted. But then Elizabeth’s gaze settled speculatively on Lydia.
“You know, Simon needs to start thinking about getting a wife to go along with the new house. Becky certain sure needs a mammi, and he can’t go on grieving forever.”
“It hasn’t been that long,” she murmured.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Becky took a shine to you right away. Her grossmammi says she’s as shy as can be with strangers, but she clung to you from the first time she saw you.”
She might as well face the issue head-on. “Don’t start matchmaking, Elizabeth. Simon wouldn’t like it, and I don’t need it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of interfering,” Elizabeth said, and how she managed to keep a straight face, Lydia didn’t know.
Before she could retort, the side door opened to admit Simon and Becky. Simon stopped to shake off his rain jacket, but Becky ran straight to Lydia, as if determined to confirm Elizabeth’s opinion.
“See my new boots?” She stuck out one foot, attired in a green plastic boot.
“Very nice.” Lydia turned her back on Elizabeth to help the child off with her jacket. “Sit up on this chair, and I’ll pull them off. We’ll set them on the rubber mat to dry off, yah?”
Becky nodded, sliding onto the chair and sticking her feet out. She was obviously admiring the green boots. “Grossmammi
gave them to me.”
“That was wonderful nice of her.”
Becky grew thoughtful. “Mammi got me some once, but I outgrew them.” Her mouth trembled, and Lydia feared she was blaming herself for outgrowing them.
“Mammi would be happy you grew enough to need new ones. Mammis are always happy when their kinder grow.”
Becky considered that for a moment, and then she gave a sharp little nod. She slid off the chair and picked up the boots. “I’ll put them on the mat to dry.” She marched off with them.
Lydia watched her go, and she realized something. Becky was burrowing deeper into her heart with every meeting. And what could that possibly lead to that wouldn’t hurt?
The child was so sensitive about every mention or thought of her mother. Surely after all these months, she should be able to talk about her more normally. Or maybe the problem was that Simon never gave her a chance. If he didn’t speak about Rebecca, how would Becky know that she could?
Her natural instinct was to plunge right into the problem—to tell Simon what she thought. She was well aware of what her friends said about her—that if she saw a problem, she’d rush in where angels feared to tread. Maybe that was true, but wasn’t it better than holding back and seeing things go wrong?
Simon had gone straight into the storeroom with an armload of boxes, and Elizabeth was getting hot chocolate for Becky. Seizing the moment, Lydia slipped into the storeroom after him.
He glanced up at the sound of someone coming in, and his frown made her think twice. But it didn’t deter her. “Simon…”
“Yah?” He didn’t sound welcoming, but that made her more determined.
“Have you noticed how upset Becky gets whenever her mother is mentioned? I thought—”
She didn’t have a chance to finish when his glare withered the rest of the sentence. “Becky is my child. I’ll take care of her, and I don’t need interference. Or want it.”