Always Close to Home

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Nancy allowed a smile to spread across her face.

  Charles squeezed her hand. “I knew this would do you good.”

  Nancy said nothing, but his close presence swept over her. She felt safe here, even though she wasn’t. How could one be in such severe danger and also be at peace? But then again, maybe she wasn’t in danger at all. Maybe the community had things all wrong, and Charles’s world was the right one. The thought brought Nancy’s head up with a start.

  Charles glanced over at her. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No!” Nancy stilled her rapid breathing and looked away. “I just…”

  “I was only teasing,” Charles told her.

  “I know.”

  Charles’s voice was gentle. “It’s okay. I understand.”

  Nancy sat up again. “You are so…” She hesitated.

  “Charming and softhearted?”

  Nancy smiled. “Yah, and I’m the one who is the problem.”

  Charles stopped her. “Remember! Just you and me and the world passing by tonight. Let’s not think about anything else.”

  The pickup slowed as Charles approached Canton. He stopped at a light and smiled down at Nancy. “I know it’s difficult and that I haven’t been too helpful. I’m sorry about pushing things too fast when you asked me over the other night for supper. You gave me such an important piece of your life, and I took advantage of the moment in haste. I hope—”

  “It’s not your fault,” she interrupted. “But let’s not talk about us. Tell me about your work this week.”

  He grinned. “Okay. Let’s see. We had that run into Heuvelton for an accident. A guy drove a little too fast into town and couldn’t stop for Highway 812. Clipped his neighbor’s car, but no one was hurt.”

  “Older fellow?” Nancy asked.

  Charles nodded. “The state police wrote the fellow a ticket, I think. The judge will probably pull his license, but then again, who knows when one is too old to drive the roads? We’ll all get there eventually, I suppose.”

  “I know,” Nancy agreed, and her mind drifted. She could see herself old and decrepit in her buggy. Her teaching days would be past by then, and she would be alone. There would be no grandchildren gathered around her, because she had never…

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Charles teased.

  Nancy hid her face and Charles laughed. “There is still time to marry me, Nancy. All you have to do is say yes.”

  “I thought we weren’t talking about that tonight,” she whispered.

  “Sorry,” he said. “There I go again.” He accelerated out of Canton toward Potsdam. “But the offer still stands.”

  Nancy took his hand again. Charles was a gentleman, and she was in love with him. Why else did she take such great risks? Maybe the Lord would work some miracle so she could accept Charles’s gracious offer. But how? She couldn’t imagine.

  Chapter Sixteen

  On a Monday morning in early October, Lydia opened up Uncle Henry’s stand at the first blush of dawn. A hush hung over the woods as the sun’s first rays pushed skyward and birds chirped their cheerful songs along the wood line.

  Lydia rubbed her hands against her cheeks until warmth crept back into her fingers. She was ready for the first sale of the day. The locals who frequented the stand came early in the morning to make their selections. Mr. Ferris stopped by before he left for his office in Ogdensburg, so he was due any minute. Mrs. Chambers came about the same time on Mondays and Wednesdays. Between the two of them, they made large purchases that made Uncle Henry happy when he stopped by to check on sales.

  “I knew I picked you for a goot reason,” he told Lydia. “You bring in the bees like the apple blossoms in spring.”

  Lydia stretched her arms toward the sunrise. She was no apple blossom, but Uncle Henry was kind to say so. The truth was, she had plenty of problems. The worst was her continued desire for Milton’s attentions in spite of his attempts to lure her into jumping the fence with him. To complicate matters even more, the longer they worked together, the further her heart turned toward the man.

  And Milton was showing every sign of having the same feelings for her. She used to dream and long for this day. Mamm had wanted her to find a man she could love and marry. She should be on her knees thanking the Lord for this gift, only she wasn’t—not with his talk about leaving the community.

  Why were her heart and head in such conflict? This wasn’t supposed to happen to her. In her wildest dreams she had never imagined that she would fall for a man who so openly planned to jump the fence. Maybe this was what had overcome Nancy. What else could explain Nancy’s becoming infatuated with an Englisha man? If Nancy, who was so solid and faithful, had fallen so far, what danger was Lydia in?

  Lydia shivered and drew her coat tight around her. The brisk air had braced her a moment ago, but the chill seemed sinister now—as if its hand could penetrate the warmest coat and the most steadfast heart. Here she had been worried about Nancy when she should have prayed for her own safety.

  Lydia sent a quick prayer skyward. “Help me, dear Lord.”

  Around the bend of the road the headlights of an Englisha automobile appeared. The vehicle slowed to a stop, and Mrs. Chambers scrambled out with a large basket in each hand.

  “Good morning,” the woman shouted before she had shut the car door.

  “Goot morning,” Lydia replied with a quick wave. “You’re out bright and early.”

  “And what about you?” Mrs. Chambers said with a laugh. “You Amish restore my faith in mankind. Makes me feel like a spring chicken too.” Mrs. Chambers shifted her baskets. “Puts the vim and vigor back into these old bones to see you young ones taking on the burdens of the world so willingly. Why, more than half the earth is still asleep at this time of the morning.”

  “Mr. Ferris will be along soon,” Lydia offered. “He’s another early bird.”

  Mrs. Chambers snorted. “That old codger. I tried to beat him here this morning. He always takes the best pickings.” Mrs. Chambers set down her baskets and began her selections. She conspiratorially leaned closer to Lydia. “But don’t be telling him that. He will do his best to beat me on Wednesday morning if he smells a whiff of competition in the air.”

  Lydia chuckled. “Looks like that’s happened already. Here he comes now.”

  Mr. Ferris’s automobile bounced to a stop in front of Mrs. Chambers’s car. This elicited another snort from Mrs. Chambers. “He had to park there, just like a man. Never can be in second place for anything.”

  Lydia hid her smile. Mrs. Chambers was quite fond of Mr. Ferris—unless Lydia missed her guess. She had picked up from bits of conversation that neither of them had partners at present.

  “Good morning!” Mr. Ferris cheerfully waved when he got out of his car. He shut his door with a loud bang.

  “Goot morning,” Lydia shouted over the grumbling. “How are you this fine morning, Mr. Ferris?”

  A pleased look spread over his face. “How could I be anything but very happy with such a cheerful face to greet me at the produce stand? I do declare you are practically sparkling this morning, Lydia. You’ve never looked prettier.”

  “Don’t you be trying that silver tongue of yours on a young Amish woman,” Mrs. Chambers snapped. “She’s not falling for it—are you, Lydia?”

  Lydia laughed and didn’t answer. The banter was not intended for her. Mrs. Chambers wanted Mr. Ferris’s silver tongue directed toward her. That was more likely.

  Mr. Ferris chuckled. “You’re looking mighty fine yourself, Elsie. I see you beat me here, so is there anything left?”

  Mrs. Chambers beamed. “At least you’re now trying your charm on someone who knows you well enough.”

  “And with as little success,” Mr. Ferris quipped.

  “That’s right,” Mrs. Chambers agreed, but she was clearly pleased.

  “So what is left for me?” Mr. Ferris turned his attention to Lydia. “You know I didn’t mean to offend you earlier.”


  “You did nothing of the sort,” Lydia assured him. “Your words were kind. You know I’m comely enough.”

  “Now I’ve heard everything,” Mrs. Chambers said. “The girl is a beauty, and so modest.”

  “You should try modesty yourself,” Mr. Ferris told Mrs. Chambers with a sideways glance.

  “I will take that tactic under advisement when I have more worthy objects to try it on.” Mrs. Chambers glared at him.

  Mr. Ferris laughed roundly. “You would think she hates me, Lydia, but she adores me. Absolutely adores me.”

  “Men!” Mrs. Chambers muttered. “They could not be more conceited.”

  “Why don’t I help you with those baskets?” Mr. Ferris offered, seeing Mrs. Chambers digging in her purse for money to pay Lydia.

  “Here, then. Hold this,” Mrs. Chambers said, handing the man her full-to-the-brim baskets.

  Lydia hid her smile as she totaled the amount on a small tablet under the countertop. She submitted the total when she finished, and Mrs. Chambers paid with cash.

  “Shall we put these in your trunk?” Mr. Ferris asked, leading the way to her car.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Mrs. Chambers said, her face glowing.

  Lydia watched in amusement as Mr. Ferris set the baskets in her trunk. He used great care, she noticed, all while keeping up a steady stream of conversation. She couldn’t hear what they said, but the words seemed to come easily enough. Mrs. Chambers even stood by her car door, and the two continued to talk after the trunk was closed.

  Lydia’s attention turned to the sound of Milton’s buggy rattling into view, his horse sending streams of white breath into the morning air.

  Lydia waved as Milton pulled to a stop near the stand. He leaned out of the buggy to shout, “Goot morning, Lydia. You sure look mighty cheerful this morning.”

  “And a goot morning to you,” Lydia shouted back.

  Milton’s smile grew. “You are cheerful this morning. Does it come from being around such high-class Englisha people?” Milton motioned toward the car with his head.

  “I’m just glad to see you,” Lydia said. “I think those two are in love. Just think about that. Perhaps Uncle Henry’s produce stand brought two lonely people together who would otherwise have passed each other by.”

  Milton laughed. “That’s a nice thought, but you could be dreaming. Do you want to guess what I did this weekend?”

  “I wouldn’t dare.” Lydia lowered her voice. “I do know you should be in the baptismal class that’s coming up this fall, Milton.”

  Milton groaned. “Come on. Don’t lecture me, Lydia. It’s not becoming, especially on such a cheerful morning.”

  “Sorry,” Lydia muttered.

  “You still haven’t guessed what I did over the weekend,” Milton said.

  She forced herself to look at him. “Okay, tell me.”

  “I bought a car,” Milton whispered. “An Englisha car. It’s just an old junker, but it runs. Our neighbor’s boy had it for sale for the longest time, sitting in his yard, and I finally made him a deal. I think he was glad…” Milton paused. “Don’t look at me like that, Lydia. I’m in my rumspringa and can buy a car if I want to.”

  “But…” She bit off the words. They wouldn’t help anyway.

  “I can do what I want,” Milton repeated. “And you’ll be going for a drive with me soon. You’ll enjoy yourself, Lydia. I can even bring my junker over tonight after dark. Could you sneak out of your uncle’s house for an hour?”

  Lydia forced herself to breathe evenly. “I will do no such thing, Milton. I was baptized. You know that. You were there, and you should be joining the baptismal class this fall yourself instead of buying a car.”

  “You already said that,” Milton said as he unloaded his buggy. “You know I’m not ready to settle down, and neither were you.”

  “I was baptized,” Lydia protested. “What do you think that means?”

  Milton appeared unrepentant. “Even so, I still say you’re not ready to settle down. I know you better than you know yourself, Lydia.”

  Her hands trembled, but Lydia steadied them on the rough-hewn boards of the stand. Milton’s words stung. She had always thought herself sure and unshakable when it came to the ways of the community, but her heart had ways of its own. Hadn’t it fallen in love with Milton of its own accord, and wasn’t it now persisting in that direction? Maybe she would give in by the time the day was over and sneak out for a ride with Milton in his car tonight.

  “Do you have a driver’s license?” she asked.

  Milton grinned from ear to ear. “Who needs a driver’s license for these back roads? I’ll stay on the main drag for only a few miles.”

  Lydia opened her mouth to protest, but Milton jiggled the reins and dashed back up Uncle Henry’s lane with his horse and buggy.

  “Boyfriend of yours?” Mr. Ferris asked, and Lydia jumped. He chuckled. “I didn’t mean to startle you, dear, but I have my things ready.”

  Lydia’s face reddened. She had totally failed to notice Mr. Ferris, wrapped up as she had been in Milton. Thankfully this was Mr. Ferris and not a new customer who would gain a bad impression of the service at Uncle Henry’s produce stand.

  “He looks like a nice young man,” Mr. Ferris said as Lydia hurried to add up his total. “He works here, doesn’t he?”

  Lydia tried to smile. “Yah.” She gave Mr. Ferris his final sum.

  Mr. Ferris seemed quite sympathetic to Lydia—as if he understood young people and life in general. “I thought so,” he said. He paid and left with both arms filled with produce. Once at his car he set the bags in the backseat, and with a quick wave he climbed into his car. When he pulled out on Highway 184, he paused as a buggy driven at a rapid pace approached from the other direction. He waited until the driver had turned in Uncle Henry’s lane before he continued north.

  Lydia studied the buggy. It was Deacon Mose from Uncle Henry’s district. What is he doing out here this morning? The deacon hadn’t even waved to her as he raced by the stand and into Uncle Henry’s driveway.

  Another car, followed by another, pulled in and distracted Lydia. As she hurried about to serve everyone, a soft touch on her arm brought her up short. Uncle Henry cleared his throat beside her.

  “I’m sorry!” Lydia exclaimed. “I didn’t hear you come up, but we had lots of customers this morning, and—”

  Uncle Henry’s sober face stopped her. “Come, Lydia.” Her uncle tugged on her arm. “Come over here and sit down.”

  She noticed Deacon Mose in the shadows of the produce stand, standing with his eyes downcast. Lydia reached for the planks on top of the stand to steady herself. Surely something awful had happened. Had John died?

  “I don’t know how to break this to you,” Uncle Henry said, “but Deacon Mose just brought me the news. My sister—your mamm…you must come.” Uncle Henry’s grip loosened on her arm. “You’ll go with us. Millie and I are driving over right now.”

  “But, but…” Lydia tried to find the words. “What happened?”

  Uncle Henry hung his head. “Come with us. Deacon Mose will take care of the stand until others can arrive, and Milton’s here to help. We must go, Lydia. Your mamm didn’t awaken this morning from her sleep. She passed on in the night. She complained of a severe backache last night, and your Daett gave her a back massage. They thought that took care of the problem, but it obviously didn’t. Your mamm must have experienced a heart attack.”

  Lydia clung to Uncle Henry’s arm as the world around her spun. Mamm was dead! That wasn’t possible! And yet Deacon Mose wouldn’t bring such news if it wasn’t true.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Deacon Mose told her as they walked toward the lane, but Lydia barely heard the words.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Whoa there,” Uncle Henry called to his horse. He pulled the buggy up beside the Mast barn, where several other buggies from the community were already parked. On the ride over, Lydia had imagined they would arrive and
everything would be normal. It would have been a false alarm. But now, seeing the buggies, she knew it was true. But how could it be? How could Mamm be gone, and so quickly?

  Uncle Henry slowly climbed out of the buggy with Millie and Lydia following him.

  “I’ll go with you into the house,” Millie whispered to Lydia.

  Uncle Henry nodded his approval as they left him to unhitch.

  As she walked up to the house with her aunt, Lydia’s mind raced. This was her home—she had been born here and played on this lawn all of her childhood. Mamm had always been around somewhere. Now Mamm was gone. Mamm would never see any of her grandchildren on this side of eternity. The tears came for the first time, and Millie put her arm around Lydia. Someone opened the front door for them, and they entered the house. All was silent in the living room, where people were seated on chairs along the wall.

  When Laura appeared in her vision, the two embraced to weep silently.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Lydia whispered into her twin’s ear.

  “You couldn’t help it,” Laura replied.

  They moved to one side of the room and stood side by side in silence as the clock ticked loudly on the living room wall. Several of the gathered women also came forward to embrace Lydia.

  “We’re so sorry about this,” Bishop Ezra’s frau, Rose, said. “Your mamm was such a sweet woman and a blessing to all of us.”

  “You’re not the only one who mourns,” Deacon William’s frau, Elizabeth, added. “We have all suffered a great loss today, but heaven has gained a saint. We must submit to the will of the Lord.”

  “Yah,” Lydia agreed, though she didn’t feel submitted right now. Hopefully that would come later. All things must be given into the Lord’s hands. She knew that. How could they live otherwise?

  “Come.” Laura tugged on Lydia’s arm. “Let me show you the bedroom.”

  “But Mamm’s not here yet, is she?” Lydia asked.

  “No,” Laura said. “Her body will be brought back later. I wanted you to see…” Laura’s voice caught.