A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series) (16 page)

“No. It’s not.”

“We’ll present something different. An authentic experience.”

She stole a peek at him.

“Let’s clean up the cabins and give this place a face-lift. Invest some of my
dat
’s money. I even have a little of my own.”

“Why would you do that?” The words were out of her mouth before she could reel them in where they belonged.

She thought he would tell her it was none of her business. Instead, he brushed at the pocket of his pants.

“Because Elizabeth and her children want to stay here.” He stood, walked over to where she was, and stopped in front of her.

She could smell the soap he’d used that morning, see a small rip on the shoulder seam of his shirt that needed mending, and then she was looking again into his eyes.

“I had no desire to travel here, Lydia. I wanted to be in Indiana, working the fields. But I am here. Apparently
Gotte
wants me to be in this place at this time. So I should do the best I can,
ya
?”

“
Ya.
” The word cost her dearly.

“I’ve seen the way you are with the customers. You’re
gut
with them. But the cabins…” He glanced away, back toward the buildings,
and when his gaze was off her she felt her stomach plummet. She knew at that moment that it was already too late. Already her heart was falling for Aaron Troyer, even though her head knew better.

“The cabins aren’t much as they are now, but you’re right about the river. The river is special, especially here where it bends. I suspect Ervin knew that. We can make the river the focus of the property. When I look at this place, I can almost see how it was meant to be. Like when I look at a field in the winter, and I can see what it will look like before the fall harvest.” He waited for her to nod that she understood. “If we improve the property, it will help your community too. The
Englisch
, they like to purchase things. We’ll give them things to buy, which will help families who need income in your district,
ya
?”

“
Ya
.” She sounded like a parrot in a story she’d read as a child.

“I can do it without you, but it will be harder…much harder. Truth is, I need your help.” He pulled in a deep breath, glanced at the ground, and when his eyes met hers again she thought a blush stained his cheeks. “And Elizabeth does too. Elizabeth and the girls. Will you stay and work? Stay and help us make the changes?”

Lydia thought of her parents and siblings—all the people counting on her. Now she was going to add another family to that number?

She thought of all the things she could say to Aaron, all the ways she could answer him, but only one word came out.

“
Ya
.”

It must have been enough, because a smile spread across his smoothly shaven face—the first genuine smile she’d seen.

“Let’s go back to the others. We have a lot of work to do, and they sounded as if they would be eager to get started. Plus, if we don’t hurry, David will have eaten all the
kaffi
cake. Did you even have some?”

Lydia wanted to laugh as she walked back to the office with him. She’d always been self-conscious about her weight, not that she was big. Certainly she wasn’t tiny like her sister Clara. She liked to think of herself as hardy, which was important when working long difficult
hours. Each year she looked more like her mother—whether or not that was a good thing. Aaron’s question, though, had put the icing on a bizarre morning.

It might have been the first time anyone had asked her if she’d had a piece of cake.

Chapter 13

L
ydia woke to the smell of bacon frying and knew before she opened her eyes that she’d slept longer than she’d intended. Then she heard two of her younger sisters arguing in the small bathroom next door.

What time was it? If Clara was up—up and arguing—it was later than it should be. Clara always slept in until the very last minute, especially on Sundays they didn’t have church.

Lydia forced one eye open and peeked out of the covers. The room was light, so she stuck her entire head out from under the quilt. The sky outside the single small window was a pearly gray.

The other two beds in her room were empty but unmade.

And the fight next door was escalating.

She pulled on her robe and slippers and hurried from the room.

“I’m not done in here. You’ll have to wait.” Clara’s voice rang out from inside the bathroom.

“You’ve been in there for ten minutes. Hurry or I’m going to have an accident.” Sally Ann, the youngest of the Fisher family, continued to turn the doorknob back and forth.

“Girls,” Lydia’s mother called from the kitchen. “Settle down out there or I’ll come take care of it.”

“Problem, Sally Ann?” Lydia squatted down beside her little sister.

“I have to goooo…” she allowed the word to drag out as she hopped from foot to foot. “And Clara won’t come out of the bathroom.”

“I told you. I’m not…finished…yet.” With the last word, Clara yanked the door open at the same moment Sally Ann let go of it, sending Clara sprawling across the bathroom floor and on to her backside.

All three girls looked at each other in surprise.

Before anyone could say a word, Sally Ann sprinted past them to use the toilet.

“You did that on purpose.” Clara spat the words at her as she pulled herself up off the linoleum and smoothed her dress down over her boyish figure. “And you!” She turned on Lydia. “You probably put her up to it. You’re jealous because I’m going to the singing tonight and you’re not.”

Lydia felt her right eyebrow arch. “You’re getting ready now? For something that’s twelve hours away?”

“Humph. At least I have something to look forward to, unlike some people around here.” Clara brushed past her and into the kitchen.

“I’m here,
mamm
,” she declared, her voice suddenly all sugar and sunshine. “What can I do to help while Lydia and Sally Ann dawdle in the bathroom?”

Sally Ann washed her hands and reached for the towel. “Why’s she so mean, Lydia? Were you that way at sixteen? Am I going to be that way?”

“Clara’s having a difficult time right now.”

“Why?”

“Because being sixteen is hard.”

“You were sixteen once. I don’t remember you being so terrible. What do you mean—hard? Like math is hard?”

Had she been sixteen once? She could barely remember. Sixteen
years old. That had been six years ago. An eternity ago. Before her father became sick. “Don’t worry about Clara. You go change your clothes, and then I’ll help you with your hair.”

Ten minutes later they were all at the breakfast table—all six of the Fisher children. Lydia had recently turned twenty-two and was beginning to feel like an old maid. Clara was sixteen and should be working now, but jobs had been hard to find. Martha and Amanda were the middle girls at eleven and ten. Last of the girls was Sally Ann, who was eight and small for her age. The only boy, Stephen, was fourteen and in his last year of school.

Menno and Ella sat together at the end of the table. Her mother always sat near her father so she could help him eat. The place at the other end was left for Lydia. She put the bowl of fried potatoes on the table, sat, and bowed her head.

The moments of grace often left her confused.

There was much she was grateful for, and she had no problem offering up those words to
Gotte
. They had a home in the community in which she was raised. Her brother and sisters were healthy. Her mother was a constant source of strength. Her father had not died from the terrible disease that could have taken him years ago.

Her father…

Sitting with her family surrounding her, with her dad at the end, so often unable to even eat the food they put in front of him, she often found herself wondering about
Gotte
’s provision. Then she would reprimand herself, and the clatter of dishes would bring her out of her prayer.

More times than not, she’d find Stephen studying her when she raised her eyes. Were his thoughts the same as hers? Did he struggle as she did? Surely the burden on him would be even greater than the one she carried.

“I heard you were at Amish Anthem yesterday,” Stephen said, reaching for the potatoes.

Lydia nodded as she helped the younger girls fill their plates.

“It’s still the talk of the town, even though it’s been open a while now.” Her
mamm
smiled as she helped her
dat
with his food.

“I thought you were working, Lydia.” Clara pushed the strings of her prayer
kapp
behind her shoulders. “I’m sure we all would have enjoyed a shopping trip yesterday, but the rest of us were here cleaning the house.”

Four sets of eyes turned and stared at her. All the girls—Clara, Martha, Amanda, and even Sally Ann. Her mother, father, and brother continued eating.

After a moment, Ella stood and walked to the counter. “If Lydia was at the new place in town, I’m sure there was a reason.” She came back with a bowl and put Menno’s potatoes, eggs, and sausage in it, which she began mashing all together.

Menno looked at Lydia and winked.

“Was it, Lydia? Was it for
work
?” Clara emphasized the last word as if it might be a foreign idea to everyone else.

Or maybe Lydia was imagining that. One thing was certain, working for Aaron Troyer sounded better and better each moment she had to spend with Clara.

“Yes, it was for work. Aaron—”

“Who?”

“Aaron. Aaron Troyer, Ervin and Elizabeth’s nephew.”

“Oh, yes. Elizabeth told me he’s a very nice young man. Came all the way from Indiana to help run the cabins.” Ella spooned some of the mush into Menno’s mouth. He dutifully chewed it but waved her away when she tried to feed him more.

“Young? And from Indiana?” Clara perked up considerably. “So that’s why you’ve been spending such long hours at the cabins. Could it be my older sister is finally interested in a man?”

Lydia didn’t rise to the bait, though she did send her sister what she hoped was a scathing look. All she received back was a smile that could have curdled milk. What was with Clara this morning? Maybe she was spending too much time at home. For all their sakes, Lydia hoped she found a job and soon.

The morning settled into the quiet rhythm of spoons on plates and raindrops on the roof.

“I’m finished,” Stephen suddenly declared. “Think I’ll be heading back out to look after Tin Star.”

“Oh, no, you won’t.” Ella shook her head. “It’s still Sunday morning, whether we have church today or not. You’ll stay in here and study with us.”

“
Mamm
, Lydia was gone with him all day yesterday. I need to check his hooves and give him a
gut
brushing.”

“That horse will wait, Stephen Fisher. You’ll stay right here with your family. Now help your
dat
into the living room while we clean up these dishes.”

Stephen didn’t argue any further. When he helped Menno to stand and slipped his father’s arm over his shoulder, Lydia saw such a mixture of emotions on his face that she had to look away.

She began gathering dishes while Ella made sure the younger girls washed their hands.