“What did you girls bring?” Jessica asked.
“Well, when I was on the hospitality committee at church, Norm was always one for a hot drink,” Liz said. “So I brought a basket of teas and coffees and flavored creams.”
“Oh, that’ll go nicely with my contribution,” Lydia spoke up. “I wasn’t sure what to do, so I brought a jar of my strawberry preserves, and then I made peanut butter spread and a loaf of sourdough bread.”
Jessica gave a thumbs-up signal with her right hand. “That sounds yummy, Lydia.”
“You really know how to make peanut butter spread?” Liz asked.
“You can be mighty sure I do.” Lydia laughed. “My maam started me on chores when I was verra young, growing up in Pennsylvania. Making the spread is one of the first things I wanted to learn to do.”
“I can never get enough peanut butter spread,” Liz confessed. “That’s another thing you’ll need to teach me to make as soon as my kitchen gets fixed. Oh, my. Fry pies and peanut butter spread. There go my weight-watching efforts again.”
Lydia laughed. “I’ll be glad to show you how anytime you’d like, Liz.”
“You told me your mother is still in Pennsylvania, right, Lydia?” Jessica asked.
“Jah, in Lancaster County. My younger sister is there too.”
“How did you end up in Sugarcreek, so far from home?” Liz wanted to know.
It was odd how for so many years Sugarcreek had seemed a long way from her home in Pennsylvania. But now it was beginning to feel just the opposite—Pennsylvania seemed a long way off. A place she didn’t know anymore.
“My maam sent me here with Henry after my father died,” she said bluntly.
Liz and Jessica grew quiet, too polite to ask questions, but Lydia could sense their curiosity. Maybe it was the intimacy of the car, or the anonymous darkness outside the window—whatever it was, she felt compelled to open up and share with them.
“My maam thought it best if I married and went to live with him. One less mouth to feed, I suppose.” She’d always thought she could’ve been a help to her mother, but obviously her mother had looked at it just the other way around. Maam had gone on a husband hunt for Lydia so quickly that she’d felt like she’d lost her father and her home all at the same time. She’d mourned for both of them simultaneously for a long while. “I had just turned eighteen and Henry was twenty-nine.”
“Do you hear from your mom very often?” Jessica asked.
“Oh, jah. I get a letter from her once in a while.” Not nearly as many letters as she sent to her mother. “My younger sister writes sometimes too. She’s in love every other week. I hope she waits to get married. She’s only nineteen.”
“I was twenty-two when I got married, and I definitely thought I knew everything there was to know,” Liz said.
“You must’ve married Cole’s father when you were young too, Jessica.”
“Oh, me?” Jessica nodded. “Yes, I was young, all right. Nineteen to be exact, and more immature than you can imagine. As it turned out, I may have had one of the shortest marriages in recorded history.”
“Jessica, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” She’d only been trying to draw Jessica into the conversation. She hadn’t been trying to be nosy or bring up an awful memory.
“You don’t have to be sorry, Lydia. It was all my fault. None of it was very smart of me.” Jessica turned to Liz. “I’m sure Aunt Rose told you all about my foolishness.”
“No.” Liz shook her head. “Rose and I talked about a lot of things, but I’m guessing she thought it was your story to tell. If you ever wanted to.”
“Oh, my poor aunt.” Jessica sighed. “I sure put that woman through a lot.” Her voice drifted as she maneuvered the car over the empty road. “But she was always full of grace. That was Aunt Rose.”
A silence fell over the car and Lydia felt uncomfortable, wishing she’d never asked Jessica about Cole’s father in the first place. She was hoping Liz in her open, funny way would fill in the gap, but she assumed even Liz wasn’t sure what to say.
She was surprised when Jessica began talking again. It was almost as if she needed to.
“You know, I don’t know that I’ve ever said this out loud . . . but the night of my parents’ accident, I’d been fussing and fussing before they left home.” She turned on the blinker and eased left onto another dark road. “So much so that I had good reason to believe—as a young girl might—that because I’d acted up, I’d been punished, and that’s why my parents never came home to me again.”
“Oh, Jessica.” Lydia’s heart immediately went out to her friend.
“You poor thing,” Liz sighed.
“Yeah, well, when Aunt Rose took me in, I was nothing but good. Good behavior all the time. I minded, never got into trouble. I did well in school and in sports, I worked hard, and I did everything as right as I could. But by the time I got to college . . . Aunt Rose had always said, ‘Remember who you are. Remember you’re a child of God.’ But when I got away from Sugarcreek, when I got on that campus, it’s not like I forgot I was a child of God. It was more like I didn’t want to remember I was.”
“That happens to all of us at times,” Liz offered.
“Yeah, and it happened to me big-time.” Even in the dimness of the car, Lydia could see Jessica shaking her head.
“When I met Sean my sophomore year,” Jessica continued, “I let all of the good in me go bad. That boy was like a drug to me. Little by little I grew more and more addicted to him and his ways. I gave up so much for the thrill of being with him. I did things I never imagined I’d do. Skipped classes, let my grades drop, drank far too much, gave up my body to him . . .”
“Don’t you think a lot of kids go astray at that time of life?” Liz interjected.
“Jah,” Lydia agreed. “Even sometimes a teen’s Rumspringa years can get a bit wild and get the best of them.”
Jessica chuckled sardonically. “Yeah, well, I took it one step further. Actually Sean and I took it one step further. During spring break we took off and drove to Las Vegas with another crazy couple I hardly knew. Our big plan? To get married. The crazy couple was going to be our best man and maid of honor. I called Aunt Rose with the good news once we got there,” she remarked caustically. “Understandably she barely said a word, just offered to buy me a plane ticket home, which of course I refused.”
Jessica grew quiet for a moment and Lydia could just imagine how the memory of that call made her feel.
“But anyway . . .” Jessica kept her eyes focused on the windshield as she continued. “Sean and his friend went out to have a bachelor sort of party the night before the impromptu wedding was supposed to happen. It was all pretty sad, really, him with a hangover at our so-called ceremony the next day and me with a maid of honor whose name I couldn’t quite get right.” She paused, as if remembering. “A month and a half later when I found out I was pregnant, Sean immediately dropped out of college and out of sight. The next thing I knew I was getting annulment documents from his family’s lawyer, and poor Aunt Rose had to take me in again.” Shaking her head, her voice sounded strained as she continued, “I know it was all for the best, but even so my poor choices meant Cole never had a father. No man in his life to ever love him, which is the worst part of it all.”
Lydia could feel the pain in Jessica’s words. “What about the boy’s parents? Cole’s grandparents?” she dared to ask.
“Sean’s mom and dad? My goodness, no,” Jessica said definitively. “Ironically, they thought I was the devil and that I had been the bad influence on their son. That I’d forced myself on him. Come to find out, though Sean never acted like it, he was from some well-to-do family from the northeast. And they certainly weren’t going to let me—a ‘hick’ from Ohio—and a baby who they assumed wasn’t even Sean’s ruin their son’s future. After a couple of times trying to contact them, I let it go.” She sighed. “I didn’t want Cole to know there were people who could’ve been in his life but didn’t
want to be. I never had to grow up that way. I certainly didn’t want him to.”
Lydia wondered what Jessica would tell him one day when he got old enough to ask about such things.
“Despite everything, you’ve raised a good boy,” Liz said reassuringly.
“Jah, he was helping me unpack some boxes the other day,” Lydia chimed in. “He’s a sweet one, for sure.”
Jessica glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “I think he’s starting to get more comfortable with all the changes lately.”
Detecting a lift in Jessica’s voice, Lydia felt relieved.
“Goodness, I’m embarrassed,” Jessica said as she turned the car around a corner. “I’ve talked all the way here.”
Lydia hadn’t really noticed. The driver who took her to work most days—an older man named George—seemed to talk a lot too as he wound his car over the roads to town. George was a bird-watcher, and she was fascinated by everything he had to share. He’d told her she was a good listener, but after all the years of near silence with Henry, she had to admit she liked to hear what was on people’s minds.
Looking out the window to see where they were, she was surprised that the streets and houses looked somewhat familiar to her. “Isn’t this near where you live, Liz?”
“Yes, my street is just two blocks east.”
Lydia leaned forward in the seat to get a better view. “I can’t believe you both came all the way out to pick me up just to have to turn around and head back to town.”
“You don’t think we’d do this without you, do you?” Jessica asked.
“You’re officially a part of the Secret Stitches Society, Lydia.” Liz looked over the seat and smiled.
Warmed by their words, she hugged her parcel to her chest as Liz directed Jessica to turn off the headlights and park on the side of the road. As soon as Jessica cut the engine, the other women began gathering up their gifts. They were just about to exit the car when Lydia blurted out, “Wait.”
The two of them turned around to look at her. “If you’re nervous, Lydia, I totally understand,” Jessica said. “I was so nervous my first time with Liz.”
“I am a little nervous, jah,” Lydia admitted. “But I also thought—well, maybe we should say a prayer. Even a silent one.”
“That’s the best idea yet,” Liz said.
As they bowed their heads, Lydia not only asked for healing for Norm and Ryan Fletcher, but she gave thanks for the clear night and for these new women in her life too.
Seconds later, Jessica lifted her head. “Okay, are we ready, ladies?” she asked.
Closing each of their car doors as gently and quietly as possible, Lydia followed behind Jessica and Liz as they tiptoed across the silent street toward Norm Fletcher’s property.
Creeping onto the man’s driveway, she was just giving thanks for the moonlight illuminating their way when two lights encased in brick stands at the base of the drive flickered to life. That didn’t seem unusual at all—not until they dared to take a few steps more. Halfway up the drive, a row of spotlights flashed on over the garage, causing each of them to freeze in place.
Not sure what move to make next, they glanced at each other apprehensively. Finally, Liz took charge, waving Lydia and Jessica toward the walkway. Hopeful, the three of them pranced in that direction. But even there, with each step they took, lights burst on, alternating one side of the walk and then the other.
“This is crazy!” Jessica hissed.
“I know, but we’re almost there,” Liz encouraged.
The front stoop was definitely in sight, and Lydia had switched her prayer of thanks to a plea not to be caught. Because as they each took turns laying their gifts on the porch, more lights sparked and gleamed, beaming in their faces from spotlights above the front door.
“This place is booby-trapped!” Jessica whispered.
“Motion sensors everywhere.” Liz waved again. “Quick, before Norm comes to the door and sees us.”
Lydia felt like she was running for her life as the three of them flew across Mr. Fletcher’s yard and out onto the empty street.
Luckily, they didn’t have to wait for Jessica to unlock the car. The doors were open, and Lydia’s heart was pounding wildly as she fell into the backseat. “Oh, my goodness.” She tried to catch her breath. “That scared me. The next time I’m going to pray there aren’t any secret lights.”
The other ladies were trying to catch their breath as well, but around their puffing and huffing, they laughed.
“Amen to that, Lydia,” Liz said as Jessica started the car, and with their good deed complete, they escaped into the night.
LIZ HAD JUST SAT DOWN AT her antique writing desk and clicked on her laptop, ready to check e-mails the same way she did first thing every morning, when she saw the new message. Unfortunately.
“Oh, Daisy. This is not good. Not good at all.”
As any close friend would do, Daisy instantly seemed to pick up on her dire tone of voice. The dog got up from her spot by the sliding glass door and lay down at Liz’s feet, crossing her paws over her muzzle.
“Certainly not the way I wanted to start my day,” Liz sighed to her furry confidant.
But there it was, an e-mail from one of her clients with news that was similar to what she’d received the day before.
. . . And while we appreciate all your dedication and legwork over the past few months, we’ve decided it’s best to stay in our current home after all. Therefore, thanks so much, Liz, but we won’t be in further need of your services at the present time.
At the present time. Which just happened to be an awful time, considering she had no sales pending. No new clients on the horizon. And not to mention her world had come crashing down on her. Well, at least her kitchen ceiling had, which was a big part of her world and an expensive undertaking. Bad timing, too, when her savings were crumbling as quickly as the plaster from her ceiling.
“And why don’t people have the decency to pick up the phone and call anymore? But no. It’s texts or e-mails. That’s how we learn our fate these days,” she lamented some more to Daisy. “Really, are there any decent people left in this world?”
As if on cue, her doorbell chimed.
Liz had fully expected to see Daniel Kauffman standing on her front porch when she and Daisy heeled to the sound of the bell. He’d scheduled himself to report for his first full day of work on her pathetic mess of a kitchen. But what she hadn’t expected was for the all-around handyman to greet her with a white bag from the bakery and a Styrofoam cup that wafted the aroma of coffee.
“Good morning, Liz Cannon.” He smiled, offering up his handfuls of surprises. “I brought you a little something.”
“Oh, Daniel, how nice of you!” She looked up into his eyes, which were a clear hazel and sparkling, even in the early-morning hour. She shook her head, genuinely touched by his thoughtfulness. “You didn’t have to do this.” Yet at the same time she said the words, her heart lifted with gratefulness at his gesture. Her lips curved upward as she took the cup and bag from his hands. “However, I appreciate it more than you could know.” Which was absolutely true, considering the way her morning had started.
“I was already at Good for the Soul getting a muffin for myself.” He shrugged. “Knowing the state your kitchen’s in, thought you might like one too.”
“Well, thank you for thinking of me,” she said, not wanting to put a damper on his kindness by mentioning that earlier she’d boiled some water in her teapot and made instant oats, which she ate in the family room. It also didn’t seem necessary to mention that while she loved the smell of coffee, she actually preferred to drink herbal teas.
“Again, no problem,” he said. “I’m just going to grab some things—” he pointed over his shoulder to his truck parked in front of the house—“and then I’ll get started.”
“But you have to let me pay you for this.” She held up the bag and coffee cup. “How much was it? I’ll go grab my purse.”
H
is smile was slow and easy, just like the tone of his voice. “Not necessary, Liz. It’s my treat. Besides, you’re going to be doling out quite enough in the weeks to come.”
“Oh, I know, I know! And that’s the thing—” She started to blurt out her worries all in a rush. Then stopped herself. And bit her lip. “I mean, that’s something I, uh, I need to speak to you about, Daniel. Before you get your things from your truck. Do you mind coming in so we can talk first?”
“I don’t mind.” He glanced down and checked the bottom of his work boots before he stepped into her entrance, which suddenly felt small with him standing there. “Is there a problem?”
“Well, I hope not. But to tell you the truth, I haven’t finalized things with the bank yet. I’m supposed to go back and do that today. But it’s not their fault that everything isn’t approved. It’s mine. I keep debating on which way I want to go,” she explained. Or more like which way she could afford to do things—with a line of credit or a home improvement loan. “Anyway, I just want you to know that I’d like to do all the suggestions you made. You had so many wonderful ideas for remodeling my kitchen, and I’d like for you to be the one to do them, but—”
Daniel held up his hand, stopping her. “It will all work out the way it’s supposed to, Liz.”
He appeared calm and composed, in major contrast to how she felt inside. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not worried about the project, and you needn’t be either,” he said matter-of-factly. “We know the ceiling has to be redone. That’s a given. So that’s where I’ll start. And I know you said you’d like new flooring, new cabinets, fresh paint, and so on. If there’s extra money, I can do all of that too. If there’s not, you can hold up on those things. Or as I mentioned before, there are other ways to cut costs and still accomplish a good deal of what you’d like to have done.”
When Daniel had come to her house yesterday, he’d been efficient and taken control, which was just what Liz had needed. First, he’d pulled down more chunks of ceiling, researching the root of the problem, and discovered what they’d both suspected. The original nails weren’t long enough, and over time the plaster didn’t have sufficient support. Then he went on to explain how he’d do the repair and gave her estimated costs.
The Sisters of Sugarcreek Page 14