A Dream of Home: Hearts of the Lancaster Grand Hotel: Book Three

by Amy Clipston

  “I don’t understand why you would want to come back.” Lillian spat out the words as if they tasted bad. “Everyone probably feels sorry for you and wonders why you left. It’s not good for you to be here. It’s hard on everyone—especially me.”

  “It doesn’t have to be hard on you, Lily.” Hannah reached for Lillian’s hand, but Lillian took a step back, out of her reach. “It doesn’t have to be this difficult between us. We can repair what’s broken, if you help me.”

  “No.” Lillian shook her head. “That’s not possible.”

  “Does that mean you’ll never forgive me?” Hannah’s voice was thick while she blinked through her tears.

  “I don’t think I can.” Lillian shook her head. “I need to go. Leroy is waiting for me.” She started to walk away.

  “Lillian! Please wait. Just give me another minute.” Although it wasn’t customary for Amish women to discuss something this personal, she had to tell Lillian about her pregnancy. Perhaps this little life growing inside her would be the link they needed to repair their broken relationship. “Lillian, I need to tell you something. It’s important.”

  “What?” Lillian faced her.

  Hannah rested her hand on her belly. “I’d like for you to get to know your new sibling.”

  “You’re–you’re . . . ?” Lillian stuttered as her eyes widened.

  Hannah nodded. “Ya, it’s a miracle. I’m seeing a doctor who specializes in high-risk cases, and everything is fine so far. This is a tremendous blessing from the Lord. Trey and I are thrilled, and Amanda and Andrew are too.”

  Lillian’s eyes glistened with tears. “I need to go.” Her voice broke. She rushed away, leaving Hannah staring after her.

  Hannah heaved a heavy sigh and then looked up at the clear blue sky. Tears sprinkled down her hot cheeks as she opened up her heart to God and allowed her most fervent prayer to spill out.

  Please, God, help me find a way to prove to my daughter that I love her and need her back in my life. Please help Lillian find a way to accept her new sibling and forgive me. Lord, I miss her, and I love her. Please, God, help us.

  Lillian didn’t want to cry in front of her friends, especially Leroy. Things had been going well between them, and she didn’t want to scare him away with her family issues. Even though he said he understood how she felt, he could never fathom the pain of her mother leaving the community and abandoning her.

  She rushed past her friends, trying her best to avoid their confused stares, and she quickly hurried up the porch steps.

  “Lily?” Amanda called after her. “Lillian?”

  Lillian headed into the house and up the steps toward her former bedroom, the room she’d shared with her twin until her mother left the community nearly two years ago and she’d moved in with her grandparents. She opened the door and found the room clogged with boxes. A lonely chair sat in the corner by the window. She weaved past the boxes, sank into the chair, and allowed her tears to flow.

  “Lily.” Amanda appeared in the doorway and closed the door behind her. “What happened?” Her twin pushed a box marked BOOKS over to Lillian and sat on it.

  Lillian wiped her eyes. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not.” Amanda reached over and touched Lillian’s leg. “Talk to me. I’m not leaving until we talk.”

  “You know what’s wrong. I’m the one who was left behind while you, Mamm, and Andrew went off and started your new English lives.” Lillian took a deep breath in an attempt to stop her raging emotions. “If it wasn’t for Mammi and Daadi, I’d be completely on my own.”

  “You’re not alone. You still have us.”

  “No, it’s not the same.” Lillian sniffed. “No one could ever possibly understand how I feel. You have no idea how hard it is to watch other families together at every church service.” She gestured widely. “I’m always the one people pity. People shake their heads and say they’re very sorry that I’ve lost mei dat . . . and mei mamm.”

  “That’s not true, Lily. You haven’t lost Mamm.” Amanda frowned. “We’ve been through this too many times. I’ve told you over and over again that Mamm talks about you all the time. She misses you. We all do. We’d love for you to come by and visit us.”

  “No.” Lillian shook her head. “It’s not right for Mamm to be with that man.”

  “You should give Trey a chance. He’s a wonderful man, and he’s good to Mamm. You’d really like him if you got to know him,” Amanda continued. “And you’d love the bed-and-breakfast. It’s been your choice to stay away from us.”

  Lillian scowled. “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me.” She pointed toward the mountain of boxes. “This was our room, the one we shared for the first sixteen years of our lives. This is where we belonged. This was our home.”

  “Ya, it was our home, but things change. We have to learn to adapt to the path God chooses for us.” Amanda pointed toward her chest. “I’ve chosen to go to school and become a veterinarian. You’ve chosen to stay Amish. We can still be sisters and a family. And you need to forgive Mamm. She loves you. That will never change.”

  Lillian glanced out the window and saw Trey’s flashy car steering down the rock driveway toward the road. “I can’t believe she and Trey are going to . . .” Her words trailed off. She couldn’t finish her thought out loud.

  “They’re having a baby.” Amanda tapped Lillian’s leg. “Look at me.”

  Lillian met her twin’s gaze. “You’re okay with this?”

  “Ya.” Amanda smiled. “We both know Mamm had problems with Andrew and almost lost him. She’s thrilled this pregnancy seems to be going well. And God is giving Trey another chance to have a child. He lost his first wife and daughter so tragically, but now he can be a dat again.”

  Amanda was right. God did give second chances. And Lillian had been sorry when she’d heard Trey’s wife and daughter had died from carbon monoxide poisoning.

  “This baby is a gift from God, and we need to embrace it. We’re going to have another sibling.” Amanda’s expression became serious. “You need to be a part of this.”

  “I don’t know if I can.” Lillian’s voice was thick with emotion again. “I don’t know how I can just act like this is okay. This is just so . . . I don’t know.” She couldn’t put her thoughts into words. Her heart was on her sleeve and her emotions were raw. She wanted to cry, scream, and curl up in a ball like one of the cats that lived in her grandparents’ barn.

  “It will be okay.” Amanda gently squeezed Lillian’s arm. “Just open your heart and let God lead you. Give him a chance to heal your heartache.”

  Lillian began to sob, and Amanda hugged her. Lillian rested her head on her sister’s shoulder and prayed that God would help her sort through her confusing and painful emotions.

  Trey glanced over at Hannah as they drove home. He couldn’t stand to see her cry. He wanted to fix everything. He wanted to make her happy, as happy as she was on their wedding day. He needed God’s help to figure out how to make that happen.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” He slowed the car to a stop at a red light.

  She shook her head and sniffed.

  The light changed to green, and he accelerated through the intersection. He racked his mind for something to say to lighten her mood.

  “The service was beautiful.” He gave her another sideways glance and found her staring out the window. “It was very different from our ceremony. It was strange to not see any flowers or candles.”

  She nodded but didn’t turn toward him.

  “I also found it fascinating that all the women in the wedding party were dressed the same, even the bride,” he added.

  “Carolyn made the dresses,” Hannah said. “The bride always chooses the color and makes the dresses.” Her voice was raw with emotion, but he was happy to hear her speak.

  “Really?” he asked with a smile.

  “Ya.” Hannah swiped her hand over her pink cheeks. “When I married Gideon, my dresses were blue too.”r />
  “Were you married at the same house?” he asked.

  “No.” She shook her head. “We were married at my parents’ house, and then we lived with them for about six months before we moved into that house.”

  “I never knew that.” He steered the car through another intersection. “I also found it interesting to not have any music during the service, but I quickly realized you don’t need music. The ceremony was still nice without it.” He paused and then considered the food. “And the meal was delicious. That was superb chicken with stuffing. And I really enjoyed the mashed potatoes, gravy, pepper cabbage, cooked cream of celery . . .”

  “That’s the traditional meal.” Hannah cleared her throat and turned back toward the window.

  They sat in silence as he drove the rest of the way to the bed-and-breakfast. After parking in the driveway, Trey turned and took her hands in his.

  “Hannah,” he began, “I know you’re hurting. It’s apparent in your beautiful green eyes, and it’s breaking my heart.”

  She sniffed as fresh tears filled her eyes. “I thought telling her about the baby would help, but it only made her run away from me. I don’t know what else to do, Trey. I’ve tried everything.”

  “I know you have. It’s time for you to step back and let God work on Lily. Let her come to you.”

  “What if she doesn’t?” Hannah asked, her voice cracking as the tears spilled down her cheeks.

  “She will. I know she will.” He pulled her into his arms and held her as she cried. The sound of her sobs shattered his heart. He had to do something. He would talk to Lillian. When the moment was right, he’d have a heart-to-heart with her and hopefully make her realize that she needed her mother as much as Hannah needed her.

  NINE

  Madeleine stood in her bedroom. She held a chip with shades of yellow against the wall and then one with blues. A knock sounded, and she jumped with a start.

  With the paint chips still in her hand, she went to the back door and pulled it open.

  “Emma.” Madeleine smiled at her through the storm door. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  “Do you like cookies?” Emma held up a plate. “These are chocolate chip. I just made them. Would you like to share them with me?”

  “I’d love to. Please come in.” Madeleine held the storm door open. “Would you like some milk to go with the cookies?”

  “Ya.” Emma moved into the kitchen and sat at the table. “That’s how I always eat kichlin,” Emma announced.

  “I agree.” Grinning, Madeleine nodded her head, placed the paint chips on the table, and gathered a half gallon of milk and two glasses. “Did you just get home from school?” She poured the milk, returned the carton to the refrigerator, and fetched two small plates from a cabinet.

  “I got home a couple of hours ago. I took care of my chores and then made the kichlin.” Emma pointed toward the paint chips. “What are those?”

  “Paint chips.” Madeleine placed the glasses and plates on the table and sat down across from Emma. “You use them when you’re choosing paint for a room. You decide which shade you like, and then you go back to the store and ask the paint people to mix up the color for you. You have to figure out, of course, how much paint you need.” She bit into a cookie and closed her eyes. “These are appeditlich, Emma.” She opened her eyes and found the little girl staring at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re going to paint mei mammi’s haus?” Emma frowned. “You shouldn’t change her haus. That’s not right. She wouldn’t like that.”

  Madeleine studied the girl, and her heart warmed. She suddenly lost any interest in painting the walls. “You were close with mei mammi, weren’t you?”

  “I visited her every day. We cooked together and worked in her garden. She taught me how to make a dress.” Emma pointed to her green dress. “I made this dress using Mammi’s instructions.”

  “You’re a great baker and a wonderful seamstress.” Madeleine imagined her grandmother standing at the counter teaching Emma how to make cookies and pies, and her eyes filled with tears. She dabbed at her eyes with a finger and took another bite of her cookie.

  “Madeleine?” Emma asked. “Are you bedauerlich?”

  “No, no. I was just thinking of mei mammi. She was a special lady.” Madeleine smiled and finished the cookie. “You did a wonderful job on these. Did your dat help you make them?”

  Emma shook her head. “No, he’s working in his shop. He’s always working. I’m allowed to bake and cook easy things by myself, but he helps me with things that are harder. He lets me make kichlin as long as I’m careful.” She lifted a cookie and examined it. “I’m always careful.”

  “I bet you are.” Madeleine dunked a second cookie into the milk and then took a bite. Saul was a good father to Emma. She wished her father had been around to do things with her like Saul did with Emma.

  “Why weren’t you at Mammi’s funeral?” Emma’s words were gentle and not accusatory.

  The question was simple, but the words weighed heavily on Madeleine’s heart. “I was traveling back from overseas when she passed away, and I missed the service too.”

  Emma tilted her head. “Where were you?”

  “I was in Europe when it was time to come home.” Madeleine took another bite of her cookie. “I had to go for work, and I didn’t even know Mammi was ill. I found out too late.”

  “Oh.” Emma nodded. “Have you traveled a lot?”

  “I was in the air force, and I went all around the world.”

  “You were a nurse in the air force?” Emma asked.

  “That’s right.” Madeleine smiled. “I went to school to become a nurse and then joined the air force.”

  “Your mamm left the church, and that’s why you aren’t Amish, right?” Emma asked.

  “That’s true.” Madeleine finished her second cookie. They really were good.

  “Why did she leave?”

  “My mamm doesn’t talk about it much, but it was because she met my father. He wasn’t Amish, and she fell in love with him. She wanted to get married, and so she had to leave the church.” Madeleine paused. “My mamm was in the military too. That’s why I joined after I became a nurse. I wanted to serve my country like my mother did.”

  “Mei mamm died when I was four. I don’t remember her very well.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Madeleine said. “I never knew my father.”

  “You didn’t?” Emma’s eyes were wide. “Why not?”

  “He left before I was born, and I only had my mamm growing up. It’s difficult when you have only one parent. But at the same time, I felt blessed that I had a mother who loved me. I know your dad loves you. I could tell by the way he was worried about you when you fell.”

  “Ya, he’s a gut dat. He just works too hard.” Emma bit into her second cookie.

  “He has to work hard so he can provide for you.” Madeleine took a sip of her milk. “My mamm had to work a lot, and I was here with my mammi and daadi in the summers. I did the same things you did with Mammi. We sewed, worked in the garden, baked, cooked, and sang. I also went to church with her.”

  “Just like I did.” Emma smiled as she chewed another bite. “That means you were Amish when you were with Mammi.”

  “Right. I even dressed Amish. I had my own dresses and aprons that I kept in the spare room.” Madeleine pointed toward her former bedroom. “I left my English clothes in my suitcase, and I wore a prayer covering and apron.”

  “Do you like to cook?”

  “Yes, I do.” Madeleine pointed toward a cabinet. “I have all of my mammi’s cookbooks.”

  “Oh, you do?” Emma’s eyes lit up. “We should cook together sometime. Would you like to do that?”

  “I’d love it. You let me know when you want to cook. I usually work at a big hotel Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, but sometimes I go in for extra hours if my coworkers need to have a day off.” Madeleine pointed toward the window. “If you see my truck outside, then you
know I’m here. You’re welcome to come over here anytime, as long as your dat says it’s okay.”

  “Great.” Emma ate another bite and then tilted her head again. “My dat said you might change Mammi’s haus to make it like an Englisher haus.” She frowned. “Are you going to change her haus?” Emma picked up the paint chips. “Are you really going to paint the rooms? And add electricity and update the heating system?”

  Madeleine shook her head. “The coal stove is enough to heat the little house for now.”

  “You don’t mind having to check the stove twice a day?”

  Madeleine shrugged. “Well, I did have to get used to cleaning out the ashes and taking them down to the creek. It’s a lot of work, and I had to learn how to adjust it right so that it runs all night long. Once I got that straight, I really started to appreciate the coal heat. It’s cozy, and it’s economical. I don’t think I’m going to add electricity, but I was thinking about painting the rooms.”

  “I hope you don’t paint, unless you paint them white again,” Emma said. “The walls should be white.”

  Madeleine studied the girl. This meant a lot to her. Emma had been close to her grandmother, and Madeleine wanted to respect her wishes. I can’t bear the thought of breaking this sweet little girl’s heart. “Okay. I won’t paint if that makes you froh.”

  Emma giggled. “It’s funny hearing you speak Dietsch.”

  “Why is that funny?” Madeleine asked with a grin. “I’ve been told my accent isn’t too bad.”

  “No, it’s not bad, but you’re wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, and your hair isn’t covered.”

  “Does that mean an Englisher shouldn’t speak Dietsch?” Madeleine asked. “I don’t think that’s fair.”

  “You’re not a regular Englisher, though. You wear English clothes and drive a truck, but you don’t have electricity.”

  “I guess I am unusual.”

  “I saw television once.” Emma lowered her voice. “Mei dat doesn’t know. I was at my friend Rachel’s haus, and we went to visit her English cousins. We actually watched a television show. It was funny.”