A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series) Read online

  “There’s room in the back for your duffel.” Gabe moved the baby basket onto the backseat, accepted Rachel from Miriam, and tucked the baby in.

  “I don’t mind sitting in the back—”

  “It’s no trouble. This way Gabe can tell you about the area,” Miriam said as she settled on the backseat beside Grace, who was peeking into her shopping sack.

  Grace glanced at Aaron Troyer, at the mud that had dried on his clothes, and then she stared back down into her bag.

  “You can take out the tablet,” Miriam whispered.

  Carefully folding down the top of the paper bag, Grace set it on the seat beside her. “No. I’ll wait until we’re home. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it.”

  “All right. Maybe safer is better.”

  “Ya. Safe is gut.” Grace reached into the basket to rest her hand on top of her baby sister.

  “First time to Cashton?” Gabe asked the younger man.

  “Ya. My bus left Indiana before daylight this morning.”

  Gabe murmured to their gelding, Chance. A large dark bay with white tips, he was the same age as Grace and quite spirited. To Miriam, he seemed as eager to be on the move as their new acquaintance. Gabe directed the buggy onto the two-lane road. As soon as they left the parking area and the horse’s hooves crossed onto blacktop, Chance picked up speed.

  “Long ride from Indiana,” Gabe said. “I’m from the Nappanee area myself. Been here almost a year and a half.”

  “Seventeen months,” Miriam murmured.

  “I’ve been to Nappanee,” Aaron said. “I’m from Monroe.”

  “Southeast of Fort Wayne?”

  “Ya.”

  “Well, I went to Fort Wayne once, but never Monroe.”

  Aaron shook his head, staring out at the countryside. “My dat says he wouldn’t give the Englischers either of our donkeys for all of Fort Wayne.”

  Gabe laughed and glanced back at Miriam. “Your dat sounds like a smart man.”

  “We have a donkey,” Grace piped up. “His name is Gus, but he tends to find trouble at least twice a week.”

  “Sometimes more than that,” Miriam admitted.

  They rode in silence a few minutes, the sun casting long shadows across the hills and valleys of southwestern Wisconsin as the afternoon brought its chill.

  Aaron cleared his throat. “My onkel owned the Plain Cabins, owned it for the last ten years. I’m here because he recently passed.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Gabe said.

  Aaron struck Miriam as young, though he was old enough to shave. She guessed he was probably in his early twenties, but he still impressed her as being more boy than man. There was enough difference in their ages that he could have been one of the pupils in her classroom when she first began teaching. She waited for him to say more, which took another minute.

  Finally he offered, “Dat says it was Gotte’s wille.”

  Gabe, his voice as soft as the late afternoon light, asked, “And what do you say?”

  “I say his passing is a shame, and I shouldn’t be the one who has to clean up his mess.”

  Lydia peeked out the window as a buggy pulled into the cabins’ parking lot. She was already late leaving, and obviously these were not tourists. The last thing she needed was to become caught up in a long conversation with an Amish family.

  Amish families were rarely paying customers.

  She shuffled the paperwork she’d been fussing over into a desk drawer and locked the office door behind her. As she made her way down the steps, two men, a woman, and a young girl exited the buggy.

  “Lydia?”

  Stepping closer, it took her a few seconds to recognize her former teacher. It had been so many years. Since before the move. Since before they had lost the farm.

  “Miriam.” Lydia hurried to cross the distance between them and accept a hug. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. I didn’t know you were working here.”

  “Ya. More than a year now.”

  “We were in town and happened to meet—” Miriam turned to introduce the younger man, but she never had a chance.

  “I’m Aaron Troyer.” Stepping forward, Aaron glanced around at the cabins. His expression changed quickly from curiosity to disappointment to contempt.

  Lydia could read him the way she could read the Englischers’ looks when they came for three nights but stayed only one.

  She pushed down her resentment and aimed for pleasant. “Aaron Troyer. So you’re Ervin’s—”

  “He was my onkel. Yes.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. Your daed sent a letter saying someone would be coming, but we didn’t know who or when or even what to expect.”

  “You could have expected we would want you to keep the place in better repair than this.” Aaron dropped his duffel bag onto the ground and placed his hands on his hips.

  He wasn’t overly large, as men went. In fact, he was quite a few inches shorter than the man with Miriam, who must be her husband. Lydia had heard the teacher at the school at Pebble Creek had married the year before. Aaron only topped Lydia by an inch or so, and she was barely five foot six. That didn’t make her short for a girl, but she often felt short—short and round. She pushed the thought away and studied Aaron Troyer.

  She guessed he was near her age and unmarried—and with his attitude that didn’t surprise her. Even with his jacket on she could see he was muscular, and from the look of his tan he was more than likely a farmer. Light brown hair and chocolate eyes scowling at everything completed the picture of a very unhappy man.

  Great. That’s what she needed around the place—one more disgruntled person at the cabins.

  Why was he staring at her with that frown? She had an urge to reach up and pat down her hair, which had no doubt frizzed out from its braids and was peeping from the corners of her kapp, but she resisted. She looked presentable enough. Nonetheless, the sour look on Aaron Troyer’s face raised hackles along the back of her neck. The way he frowned at the cabins and then her snapped the last string of her patience.

  Lydia forgot her hair and the dirt she’d smeared across her apron while dusting under the beds. Suddenly, the last thing she was worried about was how she looked to this out-of-towner who had only just arrived but was already judging her and the cabins.

  “Has it been flooded in the last few days or does it always look this way? Have you made no attempt to clean it up recently? The place looks deserted.”

  Lydia’s cheeks flushed, and she took a step back from both Miriam and Aaron.

  “I’ll have you know I’ve been working very hard since your onkel passed. It’s not as if there are a lot of hands to help with the place. I’m the only employee. And, in case you haven’t noticed, there are twelve cabins.”

  “It doesn’t look as if there’s a lot of business, though. You should have had plenty of time. It looks…it looks…” He seemed as if he were at a loss for words.

  They all turned to study the cabins.

  “It looks as if everything is falling apart.”

  Lydia sucked in her breath and promptly bit her lower lip. It was the one thing proven to keep her from speaking her mind.

  The man standing next to Miriam bent down and whispered something to the little girl, who ducked back into the buggy.

  When she was out of earshot, he stepped in between them.

  “Aaron, I’m sure you’re tired from your trip. Perhaps it would be better if you rested before saying anything else to…” he paused and glanced at Miriam.

  “Lydia,” Miriam said. “Gabe, this is Lydia Fisher. She was one of my better students in the years I taught at the Pebble Creek school.”

  The words were said so simply that instead of embarrassing Lydia, they managed to calm her emotions. She pulled in a deep breath, stared down at the ground, and fought to settle the feelings struggling within her.

  She would not cry.

  She was exhausted, late heading home, and angry, but she would n
ot give in to tears.

  This arrogant stranger was rude, but he was going to be her boss. She would not break down and bawl like a calf in front of him.

  In fact, she’d rather scream and show the temper her mother often warned her about, but she couldn’t do that in front of her former teacher. So instead she stared at the ground.

  “I don’t…” Aaron snatched his hat off his head and ran his hand over his hair, which could stand a good cutting. Ramming the hat back on with much more force than was necessary, he added, “I don’t see how resting will make this place look any better.”

  “Maybe a few days of working instead of complaining—” The words were out of Lydia’s mouth before she had a chance to weigh them.

  “Lydia, why don’t we fetch a key for Aaron so he can stay in one of the cottages?” Miriam tucked her hand into the crook of Lydia’s arm and tugged her toward the steps of the office. “Gabe and Aaron will see to your buggy. We’ve kept you late, and I’m sure your parents are waiting for you.”

  “Gut idea. We’ll see to the buggy.” Gabe nudged Aaron toward the barn, calling out to the girl as he went. “Grace, watch out after your sister. Your mamm will be inside the office if you need her.”

  The last sight Lydia had of Aaron Troyer was of him storming across the parking area toward the barn. It occurred to her that Tin Star would be looking for his raisins and that neither of the men had any.

  Gut. Maybe Aaron would be the one who was nipped. It wouldn’t bother her at all if he was. That might take the edge off of his temper.

  Chapter 3

  As soon as the two men walked into the barn, Aaron started harnessing the black gelding. Gabe stood back and watched him work. Apparently, he needed to spend some of his pent up energy, not to mention some of his frustration.

  “Debris up to the porch steps.” Aaron pulled the gelding out of his stall.

  “Shutters falling off the windows.” He worked the collar over the horse’s ears, not bothering to speak to him or show him any affection.

  “Cabins look as if they haven’t seen any paint in years.” He straightened the horse’s mane, but wasn’t too gentle about it. He did, however, check the collar pad and unhook the lead rope properly before rehooking it to the halter.

  “And did you see how the trees need trimming?” Aaron turned to Gabe, waving his hands toward the direction of the cabins and the offending trees. “They look as if they’re taking over the cabins in places.”

  The black gelding had been trying to catch Aaron’s attention, obviously searching for a treat. When Aaron didn’t respond, and when he moved toward the front to check the harness, the gelding gave him a slight nip.

  “What was that for?” Aaron jumped back, shaking his hand up and down and checking for blood.

  “I believe the horse would have appreciated a little more attention, rather like you’re saying the cabins need.” Gabe stepped forward as he searched in his jacket pocket. He came up with a few sugar cubes, which he kept for Chance. The gelding sniffed them twice before gently taking them in his teeth and crunching them contentedly.

  Aaron sank back against the door of the horse stall.

  “How bad did he get you?”

  “Not that bad.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “The way this day is going, I should have expected it.”

  “So let me see if I have this right. You’re upset about the river flooding, the shutters falling off, the buildings needing paint, and the trees wanting trimming.”

  “Ya.” Aaron’s voice sank even lower. “Among other things.”

  “And which of those things did you expect a young woman like Lydia to have the resources to take care of?”

  He waited for Aaron to answer, but the young man continued to stare at the horse’s hooves. Lydia’s horse finally reached forward and nudged his arm.

  Gabe dug a few more sugar cubes out of his pocket and dropped them into Aaron’s hand. When Aaron held the cubes out to the horse, the treat immediately disappeared.

  “Horses are spoiled here, same as at home.”

  “Ya, that’s true.”

  Gabe followed Aaron as he pulled the horse out into the last of the afternoon light. They both turned and faced the cabins. The setting sun cast light on the group of buildings, hiding most of the scars and leaving them in a charming glow.

  The river continued to rush past, still pushing at its banks. As they watched, a crane flew down and plucked a fish from the steel-blue water. Gabe thought that this was a picture Grace would like to draw. Grace would see the beauty in it, but the young man beside him could only see the work waiting beside the river and all that was lacking in the group of cabins.

  What could he say to change his mind?

  Perhaps that wasn’t his job.

  It had taken Gabe some time to recognize the beauty in his own place, and yes, it had needed quite a lot of repair when he’d first bought it. Grace had described their place as the sad barn and the droopy house. He still had the pictures she’d drawn, which depicted the buildings quite accurately. Though she’d labeled them “sad” and “droopy,” her drawings had also highlighted the good aspects of their new home. She had that gift—of seeing the best in things and sharing it with others through her drawing.

  It had taken him longer to be able to see past the despair.

  After seventeen months most things had been repaired, but he was learning that Wisconsin winters were hard and springs unpredictable. The summers and falls, though? They were things of beauty.

  Whether Aaron would stay long enough to learn those secrets was up to the young man and God.

  The women joined them as Aaron hooked the horse up to the buggy and accepted the keys Lydia offered him without another word.

  “This one is for the office. A pantry there has some food. It’s minimal as I had no reservations for the night and didn’t know you would be here.” Aaron nodded without commenting, so she continued. “The other key is for cabin four. Before your onkel bought the place, it was the manager’s cabin.” Without another word, she climbed into the buggy and called out to her gelding.

  They stood and watched as she turned onto the two-lane blacktop.

  Gabe offered to stay until Aaron was sure he had what he needed.

  “No need. Danki for your help.”

  “It was nice meeting you,” Miriam said.

  “Same.”

  “If you need anything, Lydia will know how to contact the bishop. His name is Atlee.” Gabe leaned in to the buggy where Miriam was tending to the baby. After talking with her for a few moments, he ducked back out and spoke again to Aaron. “Miriam’s bruder lives on this section of Pebble Creek. His name is David King. Have Lydia contact him if you run into any unexpected problems.”

  He thought the man wouldn’t speak, but then his hands came out of his pockets, and he pointed at the cabins as if Gabe should be able to see what he saw. “This…is all unexpected.”

  “Ya. I suppose it is. Good night, then.”

  They had barely begun moving when Grace opened up her bag of supplies and began sketching in the backseat of the buggy. Gabe glanced back at the cabins and saw Aaron once again shoulder his duffel bag.

  Once they were home, Grace had no time to spend with her new drawing supplies. They had a quick dinner, and then she took care of her chores—which included caring for her mouse, Stanley, who now had a small family of his own. That being the case, he’d been moved to the barn.

  She couldn’t blame Miriam. Most people wouldn’t want a family of mice living in the mudroom.

  While she was in the barn she spent a little time with their new puppy, Hunter, brushing him and being sure he had fresh water and food in his bowl. He was a German shorthaired pointer. Hunter was the prettiest thing Grace had ever seen, next to her sister, Rachel. His floppy ears and snout were a warm chocolate brown. His tummy was chocolate too, but his body was sprinkled with black, brown, and white.

  He was born from a litter that Pepper had fathe
red. Pepper was Miriam’s dog, and he had saved Grace’s life once, back when her voice was broken. She’d gone outside and managed to get lost in the worst snowstorm of the year, maybe of the century. Stanley had escaped from his box, and somehow she’d caught the little mouse, which was a real miracle, but she couldn’t find her way back home. All she could do was hide under a tree in what became a snow cave. Petting Hunter, Grace thought about that snow cave and goose bumps popped out on her arms. She might have died in there, frozen with Stanley in her pocket, but she hadn’t. God had watched over her and sent Pepper. The hunting dog had found her, buried under the trees in the snow cave and barked and barked until the men he was guiding had dug her out and carried her home. It seemed to her that Pepper was pure angel, so probably Hunter was part angel.

  Part angel and part puppy.

  The part of Hunter that was angel was precious.

  The part of him that was puppy was a mess. He would pounce on something and fall over. He’d try to eat from his bowl and step in it. He’d chase his tail until he was dizzy before falling into a heap on the ground. Puppies didn’t make much sense, but they were adorable.

  She also had a kitten named Stormy. He wasn’t much of a kitten anymore. He had grown into a big tomcat who liked to chase things, especially Stanley if he had the chance.

  Grace thought she was all done with her chores in the barn when she heard Gus knocking around in his stall. Gus loved Belle, Miriam’s horse, and Chance, her dad’s horse, but what Gus didn’t love was being alone in his stall. He was dark brown with a white muzzle and stood about as tall as Grace. She couldn’t help loving the little guy. He would be perfect for pulling a cart, and she was almost old enough to drive one. She ran her hand down his mane and scratched behind the tips of his ears, hoping that would settle him down.

  Her dad had been right about Gus. Gabe hadn’t wanted the donkey at all. He’d warned her that donkeys were a lot of trouble, but their little donkey was still as cute as the day she’d first seen him at the benefit auction—the day she had begged her dad to enter the woodchopping contest. He’d won too, which still surprised her. After all, he was somewhat old, but he’d chopped wood faster than the younger men. He had been determined that day.