Harlequin Love Inspired March 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Page 9

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Lydia turned, hoping her face wasn’t red. And hoping, too, that they hadn’t been overheard. A glance around the room showed her that no one was looking her way. No one, that is, but Elizabeth, who caught her eye from where she was sitting with Becky. Clearly, if no one else had noticed, she had.

  They couldn’t talk in front of Becky, and even if they could, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Fortunately, several people came in just then, and she was busy enough to have a good reason for not chatting. They often had a small rush of folks for coffee in the afternoon, mostly Englisch. The Amish were more likely to show up for coffee and a bite of something in the morning after finishing whatever had brought them to town.

  Refilling coffee cups and exchanging chatter with some members of the library committee, she noticed someone standing at the counter and hurried over.

  “Sorry if I kept you waiting.” She smiled at Jim Jacobs, who ran Lost Creek’s water treatment plant. “What brings you in today? No problems at the water plant, I hope?”

  Jim grimaced. “Don’t say that, even as a joke. No, I just had a yearning for some of your shoofly pie and a coffee. To go, please.”

  “For sure.” While she was filling a paper bag with his food, he gestured toward the bulletin board. “I saw that sign in the window when I came in. That’s a new business, isn’t it?”

  Thinking how pleased Becky would be, she smiled. “Yah, it is. It’s just here temporarily until the shop is built. Do you remember Simon Fisher? He just recently moved back from Ohio, so he’s getting his business settled here. If you have a clock to repair, you couldn’t do any better, that’s certain sure.”

  “You’re a good salesperson, Lydia.” He smiled, probably at her enthusiasm. “I do have an old mantel clock that belonged to my grandfather. Hasn’t worked in a lot of years. You think he might do that?”

  “I’m sure. He’s actually rebuilding an old clock similar to that right now. Just drop yours off anytime.”

  “I’ll do that.” He collected his coffee and shoofly pie. “Thanks.”

  As soon as he’d left, she turned to Becky, who had lingered behind the counter with Elizabeth. “Did you hear understand what he said, Becky?” She had switched to Pennsylvania Dutch. Since Becky wasn’t in school yet, she probably didn’t have much mastery of Englisch. “He saw the poster you colored, and it made him decide to bring a clock in for Daadi to repair. So you really were a big help, ain’t so?”

  A slow smile crept over Becky’s face. “For sure?”

  At Lydia’s nod, the smile turned into a grin. “I’ll tell Daadi right now.” She whirled and dashed toward the workshop.

  Elizabeth was smiling as she looked after her. “Ach, it’s gut to see that child happy for once, ain’t so?”

  “Yah, it is.” Lydia’s throat grew tight. It shouldn’t be that unusual to see a child her age happy, should it?

  Elizabeth nodded, and she suspected they were thinking the same thing. “Poor little thing,” the older woman murmured. “I couldn’t help but notice—did you and Simon have a tussle?”

  “It was nothing, just a little disagreement.” She tried to dismiss it lightly but didn’t think she was convincing Elizabeth.

  “Something about Becky, was it?”

  Lydia tried to evade her eyes, but it was no good. And did it matter? Elizabeth was as concerned for the child as she was.

  “Becky had said something about her mammi that troubled me.” She frowned, shaking her head. “Maybe I’m wrong. But it seems as if she needs to talk about her mother.”

  “And Simon won’t.” Elizabeth provided the answer.

  “You noticed,” she said, relieved. It wasn’t just her, then.

  Elizabeth nodded. “I went out there, you know. After Rebecca died. It seemed like he was all locked up inside himself. He couldn’t even talk about Rebecca. I had hoped by now it would be different.”

  “It’s not just me, then?”

  “His mamm is concerned, too, I know. But what can we do?” She opened her hands in a gesture of helplessness.

  “I guess, if that’s how he copes with it, there isn’t anything. But Becky…” Lydia gave in to the need to talk about her worry. “Simon was angry because he thought I’d talked to her about her mother. Said he’d tell Becky anything she needed to know.”

  “That would be fine if he did,” Elizabeth said tartly. “But as far as I can see, he won’t. Short of using a hammer on him, I don’t guess we can make him open up.”

  “Better not tempt me.” She was glad to know that Elizabeth felt as she did. Maybe between them, they could be of some help.

  Elizabeth chuckled. “You’re a gut girl, Lyddy. I guess we have to be patient with him.” She hesitated. “You’re not taking a dislike to him, are you?”

  “No, not at all.” She remembered Simon’s idea for stopping matchmaking. “I’m sorry for him, and I’m trying to understand.”

  She should be able to understand him, seeing that she’d known Simon well as long as she could remember. But a child’s view of him wasn’t much use to her now.

  One thing did strike her, looking back on it. Simon had always liked to be in control, whether it was with the younger children or with his work. Maybe with Rebecca’s unexpected death, he’d run into something he couldn’t control, no matter how he tried.

  We aren’t in control. The Lord is. Turn to Him.

  Grossmammi had comforted her with that thought in the aftermath of Thomas’s suicide attempt. Lydia clung to it now, lifting her heart in wordless prayer.

  * * *

  Simon’s thoughts were so tangled that it was difficult to focus on what Becky was saying, but he forced himself to respond cheerfully.

  “A customer already! That’s wonderful gut. Thank you for making the posters so colorful.”

  “I helped you, ain’t so?”

  His heart twisted at the expression on her little face. She wanted so much to know she was helping him.

  “You were a wonderful help.” He touched her cheek lightly. What was in her mind? For an instant he wondered whether Lydia had a point, but he dismissed the idea at once.

  “Lyddy did most of it,” Becky pointed out. “I just did the coloring. You should thank her, ain’t so?”

  For a moment he had no words, and his mind went blank. He had thanked Lyddy, hadn’t he? He pulled himself together.

  “I think I did, but I certain sure will thank her again. Let’s go and do that now, and then we should be getting along home.”

  Standing, he put his tools back in their proper places while Becky handed him each one. Then he clasped her hand and together they walked back to the coffee shop.

  A final customer was paying his bill at the counter and commenting about the weather at the same time. “Wettest spring I can remember.” He pocketed his change. “And the television weather says there’s a storm moving up from the south that might bring us a bunch more rain.”

  Lydia smiled, handing him a paper bag. “Be sure and keep those doughnuts dry until you get home, yah?”

  He chuckled. “I could always eat them before I go, but my wife wouldn’t like that idea.” He lifted a hand in a wave as he headed out the door. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Another of your regulars?” As soon as he asked the question he was aware of the edge to his voice, and he saw her eyes flash. He had to stop that. He wasn’t responsible for Lyddy, and if she had admirers, it didn’t matter to him.

  Aunt Bess replied before he could get himself in deeper. “Yah, George is as predictable as the rest of them. Always has a coffee and every couple of days he takes something home to his wife. That’s so she won’t get mad at him for wasting time.”

  In the meantime, Lydia had seized a tray and begun clearing tables, dishes clattering. He had to speak over the noise to make her hear him, but he’d
told Becky he would.

  “Thanks again for those posters. That was wonderful kind of you.” He glanced toward the front windows. “Once this rain stops, I’ll take them around town and get them put up.”

  Lyddy nodded pleasantly, but she didn’t say anything. He’d guess she hadn’t forgiven him yet for speaking so harshly earlier. Well, she had been interfering, hadn’t she?

  Aunt Bess spoke quickly again, maybe thinking he needed a little help. “If George is right about that storm, we’re not getting rid of the rain very quick.”

  “My mamm will be fretting. She wants the garden harrowed so she can do some more planting.” Lydia took the loaded tray to the kitchen, coming back through the swinging door almost at once for a few more things.

  “Everybody’s getting tired of it,” Aunt Bess said. She looked at him. “You’re wanting to get started on your house, ain’t so?”

  He saw Becky watching him anxiously and shrugged, trying to look as if it didn’t trouble him all that much. “I talked to Daniel King, and he’s going to do the construction. He says as soon as the ground is dry enough, he has someone lined up to dig the foundation. Guess we just have to put up with the delay.”

  Becky tugged at his hand. “That’s what Lyddy said. She said it wouldn’t be long, and they’d get to work so we’ll have our own house soon.”

  He gritted his teeth. If anyone should be reassuring his daughter about their future home, it was him. But it seemed Lyddy had beaten him to it.

  “We’d best get on the road,” he said abruptly. “Grossmammi will be looking for us.”

  With a few more prolonged goodbyes, he and Becky got on their way home. A light shower continued, but it encouraged him to think maybe the weather was clearing. He got the occasional spray of water in his face, but Becky was tucked into the back and curled up comfortably.

  He frowned at a spritz of water in his face. Time to get himself under control when it came to Lyddy. Just because she’d always been like a little sister to him, that didn’t mean he had a right to censure her behavior now. Why had he lost his temper when she tried to talk to him about Becky? He should have explained it to her quietly. That would have been a lot more effective than snarling at her.

  The truth was that he had never been very good at talking, especially about his feelings. He’d always dealt with things that way. Becky was like him, not a talker. Lyddy shouldn’t feel she knew what his daughter needed more than he did.

  And he shouldn’t be going over and over it. Was it possible there might be something in what she said?

  He rejected that suggestion promptly and turned into the lane at the farmhouse just as the rain turned into a downpour. Stopping by the kitchen door, he turned to Becky.

  “Jump down quick and get into the house so you don’t get soaked.” As she obeyed, Mamm appeared in the doorway and hustled her inside, closing the door quickly against the rain.

  His mother must have been watching for them…and probably fretting that he hadn’t gotten Becky home sooner. She’d wanted him to leave Becky with her that morning, but he’d felt uncomfortable doing so. Still, he’d have to do it sometime.

  By the time he got back to the house, the whole family seemed to be collected in the kitchen, anticipating supper, he guessed. Mamm looked as if she could do with their space rather than their presence, so he stood back against the door and watched Becky helping Sarah to set the table.

  “So after supper we’ll have a game, yah? What will it be?” Sarah asked.

  “Happy Farm,” she said, naming her favorite board game, one that Sarah had taught her since she’d been here. She smiled up at his sister, and some of his tension relaxed.

  Becky was starting to settle into the family. His little sister had done a good job of understanding what things Becky liked and what upset her. Sarah had done a lot of growing up in the past few years.

  “How high was the creek when you came home just now?” Daad asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  “Not too bad,” he said, though the truth was he’d hardly noticed, being intent on his own thoughts. “Someone said the weather prediction is for a big storm headed our way, though.”

  “Yah, I heard that, too,” Adam put in. “They were talking about it at the hardware store this morning.”

  Daad nodded. “We’d best not put the cows in the pasture nearest the creek tomorrow, then. No sense looking for trouble.” He turned back to Simon. “Are you going to town tomorrow?”

  “I’d like to spend a couple of hours at the shop in the morning. Someone was talking about bringing in a clock for repair. But I’ll come back early to give you a hand if there’s any trouble.”

  Not that there was much they could do if the creek rose, he knew. A person couldn’t contain nature, no matter how he tried.

  Daad was nodding, but before he could speak, Mamm turned from the potatoes she was dishing up.

  “In that case, Becky can stay here tomorrow,” she said, as if daring him to argue. “There’s no sense in her getting soaked.”

  It seemed he’d made Mamm annoyed by his failure to leave Becky with her. He should have realized that, he guessed. He had, in fact, but he hadn’t wanted to admit it. One thing he hadn’t reckoned on about coming home—everyone here seemed sure they had a say in how his daughter was raised.

  He couldn’t argue with his mother about it, so he just nodded. But he thought again that the sooner they were in their own house, the better.

  * * *

  The steady drum of rain on the roof created an undertone to sleep that night. When Lydia woke, the rain still splattered against the window, but it seemed to be slacking off a bit. As she rose and dressed, her mood lifted. Perhaps it would have stopped entirely by the time she had to leave for work.

  The sun rose on a sodden world, but at least it was clearing. When she took down the black waterproof jacket she’d hung on the wall to dry, only a slight dampness around the bottom reminded her of the wet drive home she’d had.

  Mamm caught her arm as she started to put the jacket on. “Do you really have to go in today? I don’t like the look on the weather.”

  “Now, Mammi.” Josiah put his arm around her shoulders. “Lyddy knows enough to stop if the creek is too high. You can trust her.” He dropped the slightest wink toward Lydia.

  “That’s right.” She picked up on his words at once. “I won’t do anything risky. Anyway, Elizabeth is counting on me. I can’t let her down.”

  “You’ll call us when you get there.” Daad never suggested the use of the telephone, but it was a measure of his concern that he did now.

  “She’ll be fine,” Josiah said again.

  But when she reached the buggy, she found he’d put a tarp and a length of rope in the back.

  “Just in case,” he said, giving her a hand up. “You won’t make me sorry I stood up for you, ain’t so?”

  She squeezed his hand, thankful for him. “I’ll either come back or call to let you know I’m there. I just hope it doesn’t get worse during the day.”

  Josiah nodded agreement and stood back while she clicked to Dolly and headed out the lane.

  The rain pelted down as the buggy turned onto the blacktop road, and Dolly shook her mane irritably.

  “I know you don’t like the wet. But soon you’ll be nice and dry in the stable. Just a few miles.”

  Just a few, she repeated to herself. The ditches on either side of the road were nearly bank-full and the fields across the road were waterlogged. Still, the road was clear, and if it stayed like this, there’d be no problem getting back and forth to town.

  They passed the flat area and rounded the bend where the trees pushed close to the road. No problems there, but what lay ahead?

  When she came out of the wooded space to where the road lay along Lost Creek, she knew her apprehension had been correct. Lost Creek ran high and tum
ultuous, ever closer to the road. She pulled on the lines, slowing Dolly. She’d said she’d turn and come back if it were bad, but it was already too late. With the creek on the very edge of the road and the ditch full on the other side, there was no space to turn ahead.

  For a moment she hesitated, murmuring a silent prayer. If she couldn’t turn around she’d have to go on. She clicked to Dolly. The mare lay back her ears, the whites of her eyes showing, and hesitated. Lydia held her breath. Josiah would have something to say if she ended up in the creek, to say nothing of Daad.

  “Just a little farther,” she said. “A few more yards and we’ll be past the worst. Step up, Dolly.” She shook the reins.

  Dolly took a tentative step and then another. It was all right…they were going to make it.

  And then she saw it—a huge log surging down the creek, pushed by the raging water. Caught by the current, it struck the edge of the road and veered off, but the damage was done. Lydia slapped the lines, urging Dolly on. Too late. The blacktop began to crumble, the road fell away under the buggy, and in an instant they were in the water.

  The shock of it blanked out whatever might be in Lydia’s mind, and for an instant she couldn’t think at all. Then, gripping the lines with one hand and the buggy rail with the other, she forced herself to think.

  Thank the gut Lord they weren’t out into the foaming current. She was all right and so was Dolly, as far as she could tell. But the mare was nearly up to her belly in water, and while it hadn’t gotten into the buggy yet, the whole thing shook with the force of the water. They were several feet from land already, and at any moment Dolly could lose her footing.

  She had to get them out. It was already too far for her to jump. Think, Lyddy, think. She’d heard once of someone climbing atop the buggy and waiting for help, but if she did that, they were just as likely to be swept away down the creek.

  One thing was certain sure. She couldn’t let Dolly drown. If the mare could get them a little closer to solid ground…

  “Step up, Dolly. Come on, girl.”

  She couldn’t see Dolly’s legs, but the movement of muscles under the skin told her the mare was trying. She managed to move one step before stumbling, lurching, and nearly falling before she recovered herself. She stood there trembling, and Lydia felt herself shaking, too.