With a sob, Lydianne sat bolt upright. Hers was not the only life that would never be the same.
How can I face Julia and Tim? This revelation—my confession—will surely shatter their happy family. They, more than anyone else, won’t allow me to return to the schoolroom.
Scared and anxious, Lydianne rose from her bed and walked from room to room in the home that might not be hers for much longer. Where could she go? How could she start over, when she had a house to sell and so many other loose ends to tie up? Depending upon how insistent the preachers were about getting her out of their schoolhouse and out of their town, she might have to leave Morning Star on very short notice—and then she’d face the daunting task of relocating as winter closed in. She would have to start over yet again, in a place where no one knew her.
And she would have to leave Ella behind forever.
As the walls threated to close in on her, Lydianne stepped outside to take a long, mind-clearing walk—
But Bishop Jeremiah was driving up her lane. She couldn’t escape her terrifying thoughts, nor could she pretend she hadn’t seen him. Lydianne clung to a porch post, feeling so lost and guilty, she couldn’t look at him as he got out of his rig and approached her.
“Came earlier than I’d figured,” he said with an apologetic sigh. “I suspected you weren’t any more able to sleep than I was. Shall we talk this through, Lydianne?”
She nipped her lip. His empathy was so much harder to take than the stern reprimand she’d been expecting—and deserved. This discussion would be a lot easier if he was older, a father figure rather than a potential husband. Nodding forlornly, Lydianne turned and preceded him to the door.
Basic manners demanded that she offer him coffee and cookies, but this was hardly a social call. Lydianne chose to sit in the armchair, thinking to keep a safe distance between them because he would sit on the couch—but Jeremiah pulled the rocking chair over and positioned himself right in front of her. He studied her with his deep brown eyes for a few moments before he spoke.
“Do you want to tell me about this situation, Lydianne? Or shall I ask you questions?”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t know what to say—where to begin.”
Jeremiah cleared his throat, seeming nearly as nervous as she was. “Was I right, that you’re Ella’s birth mother?”
Lydianne nodded. Her love for her misbegotten daughter was so intense that an acute panic grabbed hold of her heart, rendering her speechless. The bishop would surely pounce on her now, bringing his condemnation down upon her—and rightfully so.
Instead, he gently raised her chin with his finger. “Look at me, Lydianne,” he whispered. “I can’t stand to see you caught up in so much pain.”
When her eyes flew open, she realized that Jeremiah had showered and changed into clean clothes. His face was a deep, healthy tan from working outside, and freshly shaven above his trimmed beard. He smelled like a man she wanted to cling to forever, but there would never come a time when she could bury her face in his chest as he held her close.
Startled by such thoughts, Lydianne became instantly aware that her hair was mussed beneath her kapp, which had become skewed while she’d been lying down—and she was still wearing the clothes she’d put on before school on Friday morning, more than twenty-four hours ago. Her face was damp from her most recent crying fit, and her eyes felt sore from worry and staying awake for too many endless hours.
“Was Ella the reason you came to Morning Star?” Jeremiah continued softly. “Until recently, it didn’t occur to me that I knew next to nothing about your family, except that you’ve lost your parents and your siblings are scattered—and the man you were betrothed to drowned the day before you were to marry him. It’s no wonder you wanted to be near your child, Lydianne. She’s all you have.”
A sob escaped her, and she buried her face in her hands. How could the bishop be so gentle, so understanding, after he’d pieced together her incriminating story from the few details she’d given at her interview?
“Tell me about the man you loved, Lydianne. Take your time.”
As he pressed a clean, blue bandanna into her hand, she became even more flummoxed. This talk—this confession of her deepest sin—wasn’t going at all as she’d imagined it. Jeremiah was being so compassionate. The least she could do was answer his questions. He, more than anyone else, deserved the story she’d held back from even her closest friends.
“Aden was everything I’d always wanted,” she began, and the floodgates of her heart opened before she could take control of them. The years slipped away, and as Lydianne recalled everything about that fateful day, her heart-wrenching memories spoke for themselves.
“We were so in love, ready to begin our life together,” she whispered as she blotted her face. “We thought a few weeks wouldn’t make any difference. I suspected I was carrying his child when we slipped away for an early picnic by the pond in the park the day before our wedding, but I never got a chance to tell him. Aden was feeling so happy about getting married, he jumped in to swim across the pond and back.
“But he didn’t make it,” Lydianne continued in a faltering voice. “From the look on his face as he went under, he must’ve gotten a bad cramp. When he didn’t come back up, I ran for help. But it was too late.”
“Oh my,” Jeremiah breathed. “What an awful way to—I’m so sorry, Lydianne.”
She stared at him in disbelief. I might as well get the whole story out before I lose my nerve. Sooner or later, Jeremiah’s going to pronounce me guilty and sinful, and I’ll be confessing all over again at a Members Meeting after church tomorrow.
Lydianne exhaled with a shudder. “As time went on, it became obvious that I was expecting. My older sister and brother-in-law confronted me,” Lydianne continued dolefully. “They—and Aden’s parents—were so upset because I’d shamed them. Before they could set me out—or send me to live with a different sister—I left.”
Jeremiah’s brow furrowed. “That seems awfully harsh, even in a conservative church district,” he murmured. “It’s not as though other young couples haven’t jumped the gun before their wedding day—”
“But my sister’s husband was the deacon in their district. He didn’t want to be responsible for a young woman who was obviously loose and immoral,” Lydianne put in bitterly. “Aden’s dat insisted that I’d led his son into temptation, instead of waiting until we were married. So, I did us all a favor and took off.”
Jeremiah sat back in his chair and rocked for a few moments, troubled by what he’d heard. When he was sitting still again, he held her gaze. “Where did you go? How did you get by?”
Lydianne considered her answer carefully. The bishop was showing her such understanding, that she didn’t want to offend him. “I’d read about Higher Ground in The Budget—about how the bishop who’d founded that settlement had been a renegade with a questionable reputation before he died,” she began tentatively. “An article from the scribe in Willow Ridge mentioned that they hadn’t even held a drawing of the lot for a new leader in Higher Ground, so I figured I could slip in under the radar there. I needed to find a job in a place where nobody would ask questions or try to send me back to my family.”
Jeremiah scowled, shaking his head. “That’s exactly why I didn’t like my nephew Pete having his apartment there. Any town that claims to be Plain without following the most basic rules for establishing church leadership is on the path to perdition and is not Amish,” he said tersely.
Lydianne nodded. “Jah, I knew that, but it was a place to land when I had nowhere else to go,” she explained. “I took a job at the pet food factory and rented a small apartment. The only thing that kept me going was the knowledge that a part of Aden had survived inside me, but I knew I couldn’t possibly support a child.”
The difficulty of those days came back to Lydianne in a rush, and she had to breathe deeply to settle her emotions. “I—I arranged early on to give my baby up for adoption as soon as he or she
was born at the birthing center,” she murmured. “The midwife I’d been working with—Carla—was very kind. She told me a wonderful couple from a nearby town was going to take my baby home as soon as it was born.”
She paused, recalling every grueling moment of her labor and delivery—not details she cared to share with a man.
“The birthing process was . . . difficult for me. From across the room I—I watched Carla clean the baby up after she was born, telling me she was healthy and perfectly formed. But Carla thought it’d be best if I didn’t hold her,” she added miserably. “She might as well have cut my heart out with a dull knife when she walked out of that birthing room with my little girl.”
Jeremiah sucked in his breath and looked away, as though her words had caused him great pain. “And how did you find your precious child, Lydianne?” he whispered a few moments later.
She blinked, still amazed at the way the bishop was following her story without showing any sign of condemnation. “The aides at the birthing clinic encouraged me to get up and walk around as soon as possible after the delivery. As luck, or a careless employee—or maybe God Himself—would have it, I caught sight of the adoption papers on the front counter,” she replied softly. “I saw the couple’s name and their Morning Star address—”
“And information like that burns itself into your brain,” Jeremiah remarked with a sympathetic smile.
Lydianne nodded, blotting her eyes with his blue bandanna. “After I was able to return to my job, I knew that passing through Morning Star and just happening to locate the Nissleys’ place was a really bad idea,” she said with a rueful chuckle.
“But you couldn’t stay away.”
“I convinced myself that it was no coincidence when I spotted a help-wanted notice on the bulk store’s corkboard, for a finishing job at Martin Flaud’s furniture factory,” she continued. “And when I found this house that was renting for an affordable amount, it was all the more reason to believe that God was leading me to live here, near my child.”
Lydianne watched Bishop Jeremiah’s face to gauge his reaction to her tale—especially the part about believing God had led her to Morning Star despite the trouble it had gotten her into—the very reason she was confessing to him now. His dark eyes and handsome face registered no sign that he thought she’d been listening to her own wayward inner voice rather than to God, so she continued.
“It was even more of a bonus when I met Regina and Jo and the Helfing twins at church the first Sunday I attended,” she recalled with a smile. “I knew it was all right to be a maidel in this district. And I fit right in from the very first.”
“Jah, you gals have been fine friends from the get-go,” Jeremiah agreed. “And look what you’ve accomplished together, starting up The Marketplace. I think your friends were as surprised as I was when you blurted out that you wanted to apply for the teaching position—but no one can deny that God was at work amongst us that day, and that you’ve been a blessing to our kids ever since, Lydianne.”
His statement, although spoken with utmost sincerity, made it difficult for Lydianne to swallow the painful lump forming in her throat. Their calm conversation had lulled her into a momentary sense of security, but there was no getting around it. She was about to forfeit the wonderful life she’d made for herself in this town and this church district.
“I suppose I have to do a kneeling confession at church tomorrow, now that my sin has come out,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’ve deceived everyone, Bishop. Surely the parents here won’t want an unwed mother teaching their children anymore—especially because it was my negligence that allowed Ella to slip away unnoticed.”
Jeremiah stood up and walked to the window. The longer he gazed outside, silent, the more Lydianne’s fears jangled her nerves. She couldn’t move. The house got absolutely quiet, except for the steady ticking of the battery wall clock that surely measured out her shameful fate with each endless passing minute. She sat there like a shamed scholar who’d been scolded by the teacher, staring at the pale, clasped hands in her lap without seeing them.
“I need to pray on this,” the bishop finally said. “And I need to sleep on it, so I’ll have a clear idea about how to proceed. I’ll see you at church tomorrow, Lydianne.”
Before she could demand that Jeremiah clarify his thoughts about whether she’d be confessing before the congregation the next morning, he was gone.
Chapter Nineteen
As a busy Saturday morning at The Marketplace got underway, Jo kept baking so she’d have enough goodies in her glass cases when the special Mums and Pumpkins Auction was over. Most of the men around town—even Michael and Nelson Wengerd—had responded to the tolling of the emergency bell the previous evening, so Jo and her mamm had heard about Ella Nissley’s escapade over breakfast. Because they’d advertised this special auction in several places around the county, they were expecting a large crowd for it. Jude Shetler, Glenn, the Wengerds, and the other men involved were running the sale on coffee and adrenaline after a nightlong search that hadn’t ended until nearly seven this morning.
Jo had arrived to find the coffee carafes and cups Lydianne had returned, along with her note apologizing for leaving them dirty—and saying she wouldn’t be coming in to work. Cleaning up after the search was a small task, however, compared to the ordeal the men and Lydianne had endured. Jo and her helpers, Alice and Adeline, made quick work of washing the dirty cups as they brewed extra coffee to keep the auction workers alert. She’d also baked an additional pan of cinnamon rolls as her gift to them, for when the sale was over.
As she was spreading the white frosting over the hot rolls, Michael came into the bakery.
“Put my name on one or two of those rolls—unless you’ve baked them for a customer,” he said as he reached into his back pocket.
“Put your wallet away,” Jo insisted as she smiled to herself. Even though Michael appeared exhausted, he was still the nicest, cutest young man she knew. “Take what you’d like, and then go spread the word with Jude and the other fellows that they have refreshments waiting for them when they’re finished with the auction.”
“You’re very thoughtful, Jo,” he murmured.
She shrugged, not wanting to let on about how wonderful Michael’s compliment made her feel. “How’s the sale progressing? If you think it’s a gut time, I could send Alicia and Adeline out with coffee for those men.”
“They’d probably rather wait. The auction’s going pretty fast—and Dat and I have sold a lot of those big jack-o’-lantern pumpkins, as well as all of the mums and tied-up clusters of Indian corn we brought in,” Michael replied enthusiastically. “It would’ve taken us weeks to move that many if we’d only sold them around Queen City. Glad we planted an extra field this year.”
As he peeled away the outer layer of the roll she’d placed on a plate for him, Jo watched his long, agile fingers. Everything about Michael Wengerd was thin and elongated. He wasn’t muscular in the usual way, yet his wiry frame was extremely strong—she’d reached this conclusion after secretly watching him every chance she got, ever since he and his dat had been renting the dawdi haus for the weekends. She envied the way he could pack away meals and sweets without gaining any weight.
“Mmmm,” he moaned as he chewed his first bite. “These rolls are even better than my mamm’s were—but don’t tell Dat I said that,” he added quickly.
Michael’s kind words stunned her nearly as much as his blue-gray eyes did when he focused on her.
“Jah, it—it’s usually best not to correct the way our parents remember their wives or husbands,” she stammered. “My father was a fine man, but now that he’s gone, my mamm has forgotten how she scolded him for tracking mud on her floors or for being late to meals most of the time. These days, she considers him a saint.”
Michael’s smile, bracketed by dimples, lit up his tired face. “That’s the way it goes, jah. And, um, what else have you baked today, Jo? Something smells like pumpkin and spices.” Once
again, he turned shy on her, focusing on her display shelves after she’d dared to hold his gaze for a moment.
“Your nose is right on target,” she replied. “With the changing of the season, it seems like a gut time to make pumpkin bars and bread, as well as cinnamon bars and ginger snaps. It’s my favorite time of the year.”
“Mine, too.” Michael made quick work of his roll and flashed her a lopsided smile. “Better get back out to the auction, or Dat’ll think I’m lollygagging. Denki for the roll, Jo. Now that I’ve had my sugar fix, I’ll be able to handle the rest of the sale.”
When he’d left the store, Jo returned to her baking with a big smile on her face. She knew better than to dream that her friendship with Michael would ever turn into anything more, but that was all right. He and his father always paid ahead for the Friday nights they stayed in the dawdi haus, they helped around the farm with maintenance chores that were difficult for Jo and her mamm, and they were so appreciative of the meals she and her mother cooked. Mamm would never admit it, but she was sorry to see them leave on Saturdays after The Marketplace had closed for the day.
“That’s an interesting grin on your face, Josephine Fussner.”
Jo looked up, her eyes widening when Lydianne entered the bakery. “I wasn’t expecting you today. You must be exhausted after the scary night you had while Ella was gone for so long.”
“She gave us all a fright, jah. Who could’ve guessed she’d get all the way over to Jeremiah’s farm, and that he’d find her sleeping on a big rock by the river?” Lydianne mused aloud.
As Lydianne sank into the nearest chair behind the counter, Jo noticed she hadn’t addressed the bishop by his title—and she suspected there were other things her friend wasn’t saying, as well. “What was Ella’s explanation when he brought her back?”
Lydianne’s blue eyes sparkled despite their pink rims and the dark circles beneath them. “Ella saw a rainbow during recess on Friday. She thought if she followed it to the end, she might find Noah’s ark—or even see God,” she whispered in awe. “I was nearly struck dumb when I heard that. And when Jeremiah asked her if she did see God, Ella said she sort of had, and that He’d told her to wait on that big rock until somebody found her. It—it was an amazing moment, even if we’d all been worried sick about her.”
First Light in Morning Star Page 16