The Promise Box (7 page)

D
at sat in the rocking chair, and Lydia opened the white curtains in the front windows
wider, then sat down on the green padded footstool before him, determined to look
at his leg.

He waved a hand her direction. “It’s fine, really.”

Lydia placed her elbow on her knee and her fist under her chin to wait. “I’m not going
to move until I look.”

“Didn’t ya have laundry to take down from the line?”

“I did—I do, but it can wait.” She grinned up at him. “You should be
donkbawr
I don’t jest call the doctor.”

“Thankful?
Ne
. There’s no need for a doctor! It’s only a bruise.”

“If that’s the case, then let me see. You know how
fartzooned
Mem would be if I didn’t insist. She’d be sitting here doing the same.”

Dat nodded and his gray beard brushed against his homemade shirt. “All right, then,
but just because yer doing so well with your Amish words. I thought you’d forgot yet
and got all fancy like.”

“How could I forget?” She reached forward and grabbed
his pant leg, slowly rolling it up. “I’m actually enjoying letting my words relax.
There was much about my upbringing I missed.”

He cleared his throat. “Enough to make you want to come back?”

Lydia paused her movement.

His lips pressed into a thin line, and the wrinkles around his mouth splayed out.
His top lip had a small nick from his razor, and she remembered Mem had always shaved
him. She hadn’t thought about that. Who would help him now, and as he aged? How could
she turn her back?

She took his hand. It trembled in her grasp. “You finally asked. I was waiting for
you to. Mem was the one who always held you back from asking me before—held your reins
from prodding me so.” She bit her lip, then lowered her voice. “I’m not sure, Dat.
There’s a lot to think about. I’m still trying to figure out what I want from life.”

Gideon’s face filled her mind, but she quickly pushed his warm smile and chiseled
features out of her thoughts. If she returned to West Kootenai for good, the handsome
bachelor wouldn’t be the reason. Besides, at the end of hunting season, he’d find
his way back to his own home.

No, family—and maybe even faith—would guide her decision. Gideon’s dark brown eyes
and gentle demeanor might be able to tame a horse, but she couldn’t let him wrangle
her heart so easily.

“You mean you will consider it,
ferleicht
?”

“Perhaps. But it’s something I need to think about.”

Dat leaned back in his rocking chair, no longer hesitant about letting her check his
leg. She returned to her examination.

“Will you pray about it too?”

Lydia finished rolling up his pant leg and winced. “
Ja
,
ja
.
Of course.” Dat’s shin was bruised from the top of his foot up to his knee.

“You got yourself good.” She prodded gently and then clucked her tongue. “But nothing
looks broken. Just a nasty bruise.”

“That’s what I get for trying to go grocery shopping. I couldn’t even make it to the
front door.” He had a soft smile even as he said the words, and she knew it was from
her admittance that she’d consider returning.

Still, consideration was not a decision. Lydia tucked a strand of red hair behind
her ear. She nibbled on her bottom lip, and her heart turned to a stone in her chest.
How disappointed he’d be when she decided to return to Seattle after all.

I didn’t promise. I told him I’d think about it. And…pray
.

Did she even think prayer worked anymore?

Lydia placed her hand on his and forced a smile. “Don’t worry about doing the shopping.
I’ll get some groceries tomorrow. I’m so sorry. I should have taken care of that today.
I just…”

“I saw we were out of coffee. Your mem did so much—managed our home so well—even on
days she couldn’t get out of bed. I was trying to help.” Color drained from his cheeks.
His face took on the gray shade of grief.

Moistening tears caught her by surprise. “I didn’t get to the store because I looked
in the Promise Box. I read a few of Mem’s letters.”

“Beautiful, don’t you think?”

“The letters?”

“
Ja
, and the woman who wrote them. More beautiful through the years.”

Lydia nodded, thinking of her mem. Dull brown hair, a plain-looking round face, heavy
around her middle. She’d been beautiful to Lydia, to Dat.

“She was simple and ordinary by the world’s standards,” Dat said, as if reading Lydia’s
thoughts, “but she had such spunk. I remember when I first laid eyes on her. It was
at a volleyball game. She ran and dove for the ball as if there wasna anything more
important in the world. I liked that about her, but I mourned when she became the
ball, being hit around by life.”

He fisted his hands in his lap and pounded them softly once, twice. “The weakening
of her heart over the years pained me to see. Each year she put aside doing more things
she loved, but the worst was when year after year passed and no children ca me.”

Lydia released his pant leg and swallowed down her emotion. “Nothing could be worse
for an Amish woman…”

“For any woman with a loving heart like Mem’s.” He unclenched his hands, sighed, and
leaned back farther into his chair. “For years she was jest going through the motions.
And then the promise came.”

“The promise?”

“
Ja
…that’s what started the box. One promise Mem clung to as if it held her very breath
of life. More promises came after that, but the one promise softened her heart to
hear the rest.”

“It sounds like you’re building up the plot in a mystery novel.” Lydia chuckled. It
was the only thing that kept her from crying over missing Mem.

“It’s a mystery, all right. God’s promises are always a mystery. A
gut
God like that. He didn’t have to offer anything, but He gave us Himself, and so much
more.”

She scooted the stool closer and placed her cheek on his knee like she used to as
a young girl. When she was younger, he’d just pat her
kapp
, but now her dat ran his finger through the red curls that framed her face. She imagined
his smile.
Maybe he even remembered her red curls from when she was a baby?

“Was that first promise in the box?”

“
Ja
. I remember the moment we arrived home from church service—yer mem was writing it
down. She didn’t want to forget one word.”

Lydia wanted to ask more questions, but she doubted her dat would tell any more than
he already had. More than that, she wanted to read more of Mem’s words. The promise—whatever
it was—would mean more coming from Mem’s heart.

Rex approached and curled by Lydia’s side, and she ran her fingers through his fur.
She lifted her head and looked into Dat’s eyes. “That first promise must have been
pretty important.”

“I’d say so.” Dat winked, then cleared his throat. “And I have another promise I must
keep.” His brow furrowed.

She scooted back and stood. “What’s that?”

“I promised Annie from the store that I’d get help with the chores for the next few
days.”

“That’s a good promise. I’m glad she’s watching out fer you. If you just remind me
of everything, I can do it. It’s been a couple of years.”

Dat shook his head. “Annie made me promise something else too: that you wouldn’t do
them. She says you need time for your own healing.”

“Yes, okay, but then who?”

“
Vell
, Ruth Sommer asked to come by with dinner. Her daughter, Marianna, has already offered
to help with the chickens and garden.” Dat rose and hobbled to the window. “I was
thinking Gideon for some of the work in the barn. I do need help with the harnesses.”
He flexed his fingers. “I don’t have as much strength as I used to.”

“Gideon?” She walked up to Dat and stood by him, shoulder
to shoulder. Her stomach churned at his growing expectations. “What about Micah and
Amos? They seem nice enou—”

“
Ne
.” His refusal shot between them. “They are nice, but Gideon will be working right
at the Carashes’ house. It’s so close. No need for another to make an extra trip.”

“Gideon, eh?”

She opened her mouth to remind him that a good Amish bachelor would never be interested
in an
Englisch
girl, but a passel of dresses and
kapps
coming down the driveway kept the words balled up in her mouth. Dat had told her
Ruth Sommer and Marianna would be coming by. They led the procession, and six more
Amish women with them, each one carrying a basket filled with items.

Dat nodded toward the approaching women. “I think that’s my cue to find something
to fiddle with in the barn.” He limped toward the back door and slipped outside.

The women’s voices carried up the long driveway, even though they spoke in low tones.
They came because they’d cared for Mem. They came because Amish cared for one another.

Lydia opened the front door, tucked her hands in her apron pocket, and stepped out
onto the porch. White clouds had met up against the mountains, casting a shadow on
the valley, but seeing the women’s faces brightened the day.

“I hope we’re not intruding.” Ruth Sommer held up a basket filled with canning jars—plum
jam, cherries, beets. “We brought you some things. It’s not much, but…”

“It’s wonderful. You’ve already done so much.” Lydia stepped inside and welcomed them
in. Without hesitation, the women hurried to the kitchen. All but one.

“I thought I saw Marianna…” Lydia scanned the room.

“She’s already gone back to check the garden,” Ruth explained. “She sometimes came
down and weeded while your
mem watched.” Ruth placed a hand on Lydia’s arm. “Marianna was afraid she’d tear up
if she came inside—although I told her there was no shame in shedding a tear for a
friend.”

Lydia nodded, taking a deep breath. The women’s smiles lightened a load she didn’t
realize she’d been carrying.

A tear fell from the corner of her eye. She wiped it with her knuckle. “That’s
gut—
good
—
advice.” She shut the door, and then followed the women into the kitchen. “And I want
to thank you for your friendship. The way you cared for Mem. She wrote often about
how you visited, helped. She hasn’t been well for a very long time.”

“That’s what the good Lord expects.” A small woman with grayish blonde hair placed
an apple pie on the kitchen counter. “I’ve received help myself more than once.” The
woman peered up at Lydia, concern narrowing her gaze. “And what about you—is there
anything we can do to help you? I’m not
gut
with words, but if you need someone to visit with yer dat so you could get time to
work on those books, I can send my husband down.”

“I’ll be fine.” She waved a hand. “Dat goes to bed early, and I’m eager to work by
lamplight. Maybe it’ll add more creativity to my edits.”

“Not that you need that.” Ruth Sommer crossed her arms over her chest. “Your mem told
us of your work. She tried not to talk pridefully, but you should have seen the way
her eyes glowed.”

Lydia tried to think of something to say but didn’t know what. Weariness descended
upon her and the fresh reality of her loss hit her again. No one would ever care as
much about her work as Mem had.

A younger woman, also with red hair, approached. She introduced herself as Eve and
then pointed to the kitchen. “I
placed some bread on the counter. I’ll make sure a fresh loaf is delivered every morning
for the next week.”

Lydia shook her head. “No, that’s too much.”

“It’s not too much. It’s just bread. Besides, I asked Gideon, and he offered to deliver
it.”

Lydia’s brows furrowed. “But why Gideon?”

Eve pursed her lips. “He’s at the restaurant for breakfast, and he works right next
door.” Eve’s expression told Lydia it would be foolishness to consider Gideon’s visit
as anything more than just a helpful gesture. Eve also had a look of superiority in
her gaze. Maybe Eve—and the other women—didn’t think Lydia could make bread, being
Englisch
and all. Maybe they felt it was their duty to make sure her dat didn’t starve.

“Yes. Of course.” Lydia took a step back. Her father might have high hopes for her
return to Amish society, but he was the only one.

Eve cast a sideways glance at her, and Lydia felt as if an army of ants crawled up
her spine.

The women didn’t stay long. They hurried out as quickly as they hurried in. As their
cluster of white
kapps
moved past the Carash place and disappeared down the road, Dat returned to the house
and cut himself a large slice of apple pie. He sat at the kitchen table, and his shoulders
slumped as if eating the pie seemed like too much work. He only picked at the golden
brown crust.

Lydia chatted about the kindness of the women, but Dat didn’t answer. Instead he pointed
out the window toward the pasture.

Through the tall grass, Blue trotted toward the Carash house. The horse’s gaze was
on Gideon. Blue was most likely ready for dinner, to be brushed down, and be put into
the
corral for the night. But instead of paying attention to the horse, Gideon’s eyes
were on the women as they walked past.

Eve waved at him, and Lydia quickly looked away, surprised by the prick of jealousy
that jabbed her heart. She crossed her arms over her chest and strode to the kitchen,
eyeing the perfect loaf of bread. There was no reason why someone like Eve and someone
like Gideon shouldn’t be attracted to each other. No reason at all.

“Do you think you can talk to him about choring?” Dat asked. “I’d be happy to pay.”

“Ask Gideon?” She lifted her chin, determined not to let jealousy stand in the way
of friendship. He’d been good to her—to her dat. “
Ja
, of course. I’ll head down soon.”

Lydia waited until Gideon moved to the barn with Blue. Then she made Dat a cup of
tea and went to her room to freshen up. She ran a brush through her hair, telling
herself that her emotions were a tangled mess after losing her mem and she shouldn’t
get wrapped up in Gideon. Or who caught his fancy. Her heart raced as she thought
about staying here and helping Dat. Would she have to face emotions like this every
day? Being around people meant dealing with them…and figuring out her temporary place
in the midst of them.