A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series) (33 page)

“I can’t explain his heart,” Aaron said softly. “I can tell you that plowing this way makes the soil more receptive to water. In Indiana we offer classes for university students to come and study our methods.”

Jeanette sat up straighter. “I didn’t realize…”

“
Ya
. Some, like your husband, are turning back to the old ways. Go walk out there. See how it exposes the soil to nutrients—”

“Fertilizer.”

Aaron laughed. “We use everything on the farm. Saves money and makes
gut
sense.”

“Thank you, Aaron.” Jeanette stood. “Tim’s had his share of struggles. All of my family have. Problems that we hope a change of lifestyle will help. I’m praying this will…this will be what we need.”

Aaron nodded, thanked her again for the plate of cookies, and walked home. He felt better for having spent a few hours away from the cabins. After all, he wasn’t an innkeeper, at least not permanently.

Miriam walked Rae out onto the front porch. “Are you sure you can’t stay any longer?”

“I wish I could. Our visits always go by too fast.” Her shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a pony tail, and she had a dark tan, even though the weather was just now warm enough to spend the day outside.

Miriam could hardly believe they were the same age. In some ways Rae appeared so carefree—no husband, no babies, no home to tend. In other ways, though, her job with the newspaper was far more demanding than what Miriam had to handle each day.

“It seems we’ve known each other for years,” she said as they continued towards Rae’s small car. “Hard to believe we met over Drake’s project.”

Rae opened the car door and tossed her purse into the passenger seat. “At least one good thing came of his plowing through town.”

“You still don’t like him.”

“I don’t. Now he’s moved farther north, and he’s attempting to do the same thing—only those communities aren’t standing up to him. They’re trying to ignore him, and we both know that won’t work.”

Miriam reached forward and straightened the collar on Rae’s blue jean jacket. “You worry about our communities, but each district has to make their own decisions. All you can do is make gentle suggestions and report the news for your paper.”

“I know. You’d think after all these years I would have picked up on some of your
glassenheet
.”

“
Gelassenheit
.” Miriam covered her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh at her friend.

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“
Nein
.”

“You need to teach me, Miriam. Soon Rachel will speak better Pennsylvania Dutch than I do.”

Rae was in the car and buckled when Miriam remembered to ask her about the local assignment covering burglaries.

“Don’t worry about that. There’s been nothing close to Cashton.”

“What’s being stolen?”

“Anything they can sell, apparently. They tend to hit places without surveillance.”

“Which is—”

“Video cameras, security, that sort of thing.”

“Sounds as if Amish places could be a target.”

“A few have been.” Rae stared out through the front window of her car and seemed about to say something. She shook her head, as if she could shake the worries away. “Whoever is doing this has hit a few churches—different denominations and even a couple of the small outlying schools. The police aren’t saying if the incidents are connected at this point, but my instincts tell me they are.”

“You’ll be careful?”

“I will.”

As she drove away, Miriam realized how grateful she was for her
Englisch
friend. She’d printed out several articles on Abigail’s disease, which Miriam could read through later this afternoon. And she’d offered to pray for her.

Rae’s faith wasn’t so different from her own. They might attend different churches, but they prayed to the same God. They believed the same truths, and they would often laugh when one or the other brought up a verse from Scripture—because it was familiar. It was as if their spiritual roots were the same.

Certainly, God had brought Rae Caperton into her life.

Miriam would pray for Rae’s safety as she went about her daily chores. Rae’s job was important to the Plain community, though they preferred to think they didn’t need representation in the
Englisch
paper—and perhaps they didn’t. But Rae had convinced her Amish communities were going to be dealt with on the printed page whether they wanted to or not. At least with Rae and others like her on their side, they had a chance of being dealt with fairly.

Rae also said she’d try to stop by the cabins in the next few days and see if she could do an article on the improvements Aaron and
Lydia had done. It wouldn’t hurt to give them a little publicity. First, though, she had to run down her lead on the burglary piece.

As Miriam cleaned up their lunch dishes, she prayed that God would keep Rae Caperton out of harm’s way. She prayed the person doing this terrible thing would be stopped, and she prayed that God would find a way to use the work of their hands.

Chapter 28

L
ydia set out for work earlier than usual Friday morning in spite of Clara’s complaining. Aaron had spent the night with David because all of the cabins were rented. He’d be riding into work with Seth. She wanted to arrive before her normal time so that she could open the office and have
kaffi
and breakfast prepared for any of the guests who were early risers.

Everything was off this morning.

Clara was crankier than usual, and Stephen hadn’t been himself at all.

The sun had barely lightened the horizon when her brother pulled Tin Star out of the barn, hitched to the buggy. Stephen had dark circles under his eyes and hay stuck to his hair from sleeping in the hayloft. Why had he slept in the barn? Stephen had only shrugged when she thanked him. He had frowned at the ground and walked away without a word.

“Do you think Stephen is doing all right? He seems somewhat sullen.”

“Who wouldn’t be at this hour of the day? You’re getting him up earlier than he would have to be for his normal chores.”

“But I didn’t get him up.” Lydia pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Though it was late May, the morning temperatures
were still brisk. “This morning I went to his room and knocked on the door, but there was no answer. So I dressed quickly and went to the barn to see to Tin Star myself. I found Stephen there, asleep in the loft.”

“Maybe he was tired of sleeping in a house full of girls.” Clara curled into the corner of the buggy, yawning and trying to make a pillow of her arm.

“Why would he prefer a scratchy bed of hay? That makes no sense.” Lydia reached over and shook Clara’s arm.

“What? Are we there already?”

“Do you think Stephen’s in trouble?”

“How would I know? I barely know where I am. One minute I’m sleeping, the next you’re waking me. It seems to be your mission in life to wake me whether I’m in bed or in a buggy!”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping in a buggy. It’s not proper. Where did Stephen go after dinner last night?”

Instead of answering, Clara sat up straighter and focused on straightening her
kapp
, smoothing out her apron, and checking that their lunches hadn’t tipped over on the floor of the buggy.

“You know something,” Lydia said.

“Why would I know something?”

“Because you didn’t say that you don’t know something.”

“That’s the worst logic I’ve ever heard.”

“Tell me you don’t know where Stephen was last night.”

“You’re the one who said he was in the hayloft.” Clara became suddenly interested in the passing scenery.

“You know I mean before that, Clara. I’m sure he was late coming in because when I went to fetch Martha, Amanda, and Sally Ann from playing on the porch, the barn door was still open and Tin Star was still gone. Do you know where he was?”

“It’s not my job to keep up with our
bruder
.” Now she studied her fingers, holding them out in front of her in the early morning light. “I was busy using some of the lotion I bought to try to smooth over
the rough spots on my hands. Don’t you think Aaron should reimburse me for that expense?”

Lydia didn’t bother responding.

Where had her brother been so late the night before? If her mother had noticed, she hadn’t said anything about his behavior. Perhaps because she’d been busy herself. It had been a rough night for Lydia’s father—Menno’s condition often worsened when the days grew warmer, perhaps because so much pollen was in the air. Last night her mother was busy making a herbal plaster for Menno’s chest. Lydia had cooked dinner, but Stephen had never shown up to eat it.

“He definitely slept in the barn last night. You saw the hay in his hair, and he was still wearing yesterday’s clothing. He didn’t look very happy, either.”

Clara sighed heavily, as if explaining things to her older sister was a burden far too heavy to bear. “I suspect he was unhappy because he needed another hour of sleep. Our
bruder
is on his
rumspringa
, Lydia dear. You probably don’t remember what that’s like because you never had one.”

How could she have indulged in a time of running around? There had been no bridge between childhood and adulthood for Lydia. No, she’d gone to sleep one night a child and woken the next day an adult. She knew what day it had been too—the day her father had been diagnosed with farmer’s lung. Soon after that the farm had been sold. Her mother had become his nurse, and she had become a mother to her brothers and sisters.

Lydia swallowed the answer Clara would never understand. Instead, she focused on the road that Tin Star trotted down. She barely needed to guide him at all. He knew the way so well, and there was little traffic this early in the day. The sound of Pebble Creek, running beside the road, soothed her nerves from the morning, but she couldn’t completely lose the feeling that something was wrong. Something
else
was wrong.

Why would that be?

Her
dat
was dying.

Her sister complained constantly, except when she was flirting with Seth, who was the worst example of a godly young man Lydia could imagine.

Her own brother was suddenly evasive and had a haunted look in his eyes.

And Aaron was avoiding her as if she had been proclaimed contagious.