A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series) Page 5

  With a shake of his head, he pushed those thoughts away.

  He wasn’t staying, and if he were, he wouldn’t be farming. He’d be stuck maintaining the cabins, which he had no desire to do.

  Behind the river and the farm was another homestead.

  This one reminded him of the cabins. As his heart settled into a sense of disappointment he was quickly growing accustomed to, he realized the rambling house with little land was his onkel’s home. On closer inspection he saw that the home wasn’t in as bad a state of disrepair as the cabins—the yard was neat, the fences were maintained, and the small barn looked to be in good condition.

  It was only that the area was very small. There was no room for crops, and Aaron couldn’t understand being satisfied with such a place. Had his onkel’s heart been given over completely to the cabins? Was that why he could live on a place with such little space around it?

  There was a small garden area to the west side of the home for growing vegetables, and a pasture area to the east for the horses. Ervin had anticipated what he would need for his family and purchased exactly that. What he hadn’t predicted was the size of his family—the house looked as if he had added on to it at least twice, building toward the back each time.

  The moment Aaron pulled up in front of the house, a woman walked out on to the porch. Peeking out from behind her dress was a little girl in a black prayer kapp.

  Aaron tied Tin Star to the fence surrounding the small garden area, under the shade of a tall maple tree, before walking over to the porch.

  “Gudemariye. You probably don’t remember me, but—”

  “Of course I do, Aaron. It’s gut to see you. Come in, please.” Elizabeth was younger than he expected. Probably in her early forties and somewhat on the plump side. She was pretty in the way of healthy Amish women. He’d heard his parents talking of the fact that she would have no problem remarrying after waiting the appropriate year. It occurred to him, as he followed her into the house, that their assessment was probably true.

  “Danki for coming. It’s a long trip from Indiana.”

  “Of course I’d come, Elizabeth. We wouldn’t leave you to take care of things alone.” He glanced around the sitting room. It looked the same as his parents’ home, simply furnished and clean.

  “Come into the kitchen. I have some kaffi on the stove.”

  “Sure. That would be gut. It’s still cold here even though it’s May.”

  “June is beautiful, though.”

  She poured some kaffi into a mug waiting on the counter before refreshing her own mug. It was almost as if she had been expecting him. But how was that possible? He’d told no one he was coming by today. It didn’t seem she could have known he had arrived in town just yesterday.

  Then again, women seemed to have their own form of communication, almost like the Englischers telephone system.

  “I’m sure summers here are very nice.” He almost added that he wouldn’t be around to see it, but remembered his parents’ warning not to be rude. So instead he gulped his kaffi, which was boiling hot. Wincing, he tried to think of how best to begin.

  “Ervin, he…” Elizabeth stared down at her hands.

  When she glanced up with tears sliding down her cheeks, Aaron searched his mind for what to say. His father had given him a final talk about money, traveling, and interacting with the Englisch, but he hadn’t mentioned emotional women.

  His mother had reminded him to watch his manners and to remember the Ordnung. As far as he knew, that set of rules didn’t cover this situation.

  Elizabeth sniffled and swiped at her cheeks.

  “Was iss letz?” The young girl was immediately at her mother’s side, holding an Amish doll fixed up in a black kapp and apron like her own.

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Why are you crying?” She slid the doll onto her mother’s lap. “Do you want to play with my boppli? She always makes me feel better.”

  “Danki, Beth.” She whispered something else to the girl, who ran off to the sitting room and began to draw. “I’m sorry, Aaron. You’re going to think I’m a mess.”

  “No. Of course not.” He searched his mind for what else to say. “I’m sure this is difficult for you.”

  “It is. Yes. Ervin was a hard worker and wasn’t sick at all, so his passing was a…” Her voice started to wobble, and she swiped at her cheeks. “It was a…”

  “Surprise?” He jumped in before she had time to begin crying again.

  “Ya.” She glanced up, the hint of a smile replacing the grief on her face. “So you understand.”

  In truth, he had understood nothing since landing in Cashton or Pebble Creek or wherever he was, but he nodded. Elizabeth went on to explain about Ervin’s heart attack and how he hadn’t suffered because it had been so sudden. She added that Gotte had been merciful in taking him quickly.

  Agreeing with her seemed to calm her and stop the flow of tears.

  How did men do this? Why did they marry if it meant dealing with emotions and tempers and who knows what that he hadn’t seen yet.

  Elizabeth stirred cream into her kaffi. “It was such a surprise. The night before we were talking about our spring garden and how the rains were heavier this year. He went out to tend to the horses, and he never…”

  This time Aaron let the silence stretch between them.

  Finally, Elizabeth repeated what he’d heard his parents pronounce when they had read the letter notifying them of Ervin’s passing. “It was Gotte’s wille that he pass, though he was only fifty-two.”

  “Ya. I suppose it was.” Aaron finished his kaffi and wondered how long it was proper to wait before he turned the subject to the real reason he’d stopped by. He needed to finish here and head back to the cabins. Already the sun was high in the sky, and the list of repairs in his pocket was long.

  Beth ran into the room, but instead of going to her mother’s side, she stopped a few feet shy of Aaron.

  “I believe she has something for you,” Elizabeth murmured.

  Written across the top of the page in lopsided German script was his name. Her name was signed at the bottom. She’d colored a picture of him standing in the field with tall stalks of corn growing all around him. In the page’s bottom corner was one her father’s cabins.

  “Danki, Beth. This is very nice.” He didn’t mention that in the picture his arms reached nearly to the ground and his head was the size of a large melon. “May I keep it?”

  The little girl smiled and nodded.

  Aaron said, “I see the family resemblance.”

  “Ervin often said so.”

  Beth stepped closer and pointed to the picture. “My mamm told me you like to work in the fields.”

  “Ya, I do.”

  “That’s why I drew the corn.”

  “It’s beautiful corn.”

  Beth ran a finger along the picture, tracing a blue line across the bottom of the page he hadn’t noticed before. When she reached the corner of the drawing where she’d sketched the cabin, she said, “But now you’re going to stay here in Pebble Creek instead and help us. ’Cause dat’s gone.”

  Aaron glanced up and caught Elizabeth studying him.

  “Go pick up your crayons now, Beth. We’ve chores to do in a few minutes.”

  When the little girl had left the room, Aaron cleared his throat and tackled the subject he’d been avoiding. “When was the last time you were out to visit the cabins?”

  “It’s been a while. I offered to help, but Ervin hired Lydia and said there was no need. Mostly I handled things here at the house and worked in the garden, and Ervin and Lydia took care of matters at the cabins.”

  Aaron nodded as if that made sense.

  “I know business has been slow, Aaron. We were hoping that once Amish Anthem opened, more tourists would visit the Cashton area.”

  “What is Amish Anthem?”

  “It’s the large hotel in town. Well, it’s not actually a hotel now. It was many years ago befor
e it closed and fell into disrepair. An Englisch developer purchased it and remodeled it into a tourist attraction.”

  “We have similar places in Indiana.”

  “It turned out to be much better for our area than what was first planned, though the owner is not a particularly pleasant man. That’s all a long story that you probably don’t have time for, but the point is that Gabe Miller stepped in and things changed.”

  “Gabe?”

  “Yes. Do you know him?”

  “He gave me a ride yesterday.”

  “There are two Plain districts in the Cashton area. Gabe lives on the more conservative side, but he convinced both districts to become involved, and because of that the establishment downtown is better than it would have been, in my opinion.”

  “But it still hasn’t helped business at the cabins.”

  “I suspected as much, though Ervin didn’t speak about it. He brought home what we needed for me and the kinner.” Elizabeth ran her thumb around the top of her kaffi cup. “Ervin felt strongly that Gotte led him to open the cabins, that he was to offer a place of solitude and peace for people to come to—a place where folks could rest and draw closer to Gotte. Along the banks of Pebble Creek seemed the perfect place to do so.”

  Beth sang as she picked up her drawing supplies in the sitting room.

  And Aaron felt, maybe for the first time, the full weight and responsibility of being an adult.

  “Perhaps it hasn’t been long enough,” he suggested.

  “Amish Anthem opened three months ago.”

  Aaron stood, pulled the list out of his pocket, and stared at it. Finally he raised his gaze to Elizabeth’s.

  “How bad is it?” she asked quietly. There was something in her eyes, something in spite of her earlier tears that convinced Aaron she had the strength to hear the truth.

  “It’s not gut.” He pushed the piece of paper across the table. Waiting, he looked beyond her to the neighbor’s farmland that stood in water. Farmland he knew must be fertile, lying so close to the river, lying in this valley where there was such abundance.

  “I’m not a carpenter, Elizabeth. I’m a farmer, and I don’t have to tell you how young I am.” He reached for his hat and pushed it back on his head. “But a business is a business. If we can make the repairs listed on that sheet, and get the word out that the cabins have been upgraded…There’s a chance things will turn around.”

  “How long will this take?” Elizabeth handed the sheet back. “And where will we get the money? We were earning enough, but barely. The other kinner, they’re all four still in school. They can’t work yet unless I ask them to quit.”

  Aaron thought back to his childhood and how he would have jumped at the chance to be out of the classroom. He was learning things were different here, though, and he had been the odd kid even then. Most students had enjoyed their eight years in the schoolhouse.

  “Let me worry about it,” he said. Even as the words came out, he wondered why he said them and what he would do to ease the concern in her eyes.

  He glanced back down at Beth’s drawing, at the ridiculous picture of him towering over the stalks of corn with his long arms and giant head. Perhaps in her five-year-old eyes he seemed enormous, but Aaron was realizing his limitations.

  As Beth and Elizabeth walked him out to Lydia’s buggy, he knew he couldn’t let those limitations stop him.

  For their sake, for Ervin’s family—who was also his family—he needed to find a way around the problems.

  For his sake, he needed to do it quickly.

  Chapter 7

  Gabe had finished caring for his animals by noon.

  He wanted to be out in the fields, planting. But his field was soaked from last week’s rains. Trying to plow it would do nothing more than aggravate him and tire his horses. Instead of frustrating them both, he left a note on the counter for Miriam.

  David had asked him to stop by when he had a chance, and he figured this afternoon was as good a time as any. David King was Miriam’s middle brother, sandwiched between Noah, the oldest, and Simon, who came after Miriam. Though Gabe had grown close to the entire family since moving to Wisconsin, he had the most in common with David.

  He’d been helpful in giving advice on ways to improve what was planted and where to plant it last year. Gabe had some new ideas this year he wanted to run by him, and he needed his opinion before he began planting.

  He scratched at his beard as he allowed Chance to settle into a somewhat fast trot. The horse wasn’t used as much as he had been before Gabe married, and he needed to burn up some energy nearly as much as Gabe did.

  Now, why did David want to see him? He couldn’t remember. No matter. He would find out soon enough. David managed to stay busy, even when the fields were flooded. Between the farm and the toy business he had on the side, he and his wife, Anna, made ends meet. He had confessed that some years were hard. Other years they had bonus crops. Such was the way in Wisconsin.

  Gabe had told him it was the same in Indiana.

  Perhaps it was the same all over.

  Gabe’s mind drifted back to Indiana and the farming he’d done there. There were days he missed it, but more and more that life seemed as if it belonged to another man. This was his life now, and he couldn’t imagine going back. He was still grateful he had met and married Hope, Grace’s mother. Still thankful for the time they’d had together. Her death from cancer hurt less and less, though, which was nothing short of a miracle.

  As Grace grew older she was becoming her own person, but there were times, when she was studying a problem, or gazing out at a sunset, that she reminded him very much of her mother. Hope lived on through Grace.

  But he couldn’t imagine his life without Miriam. God had given him a peace about that. He knew it was best for him to move on and best for his daughter. And now he had Rachel. Who could say? Perhaps one day he’d have a boy as well, though he wouldn’t be like those fathers who went on and on wishing for a son to walk in their footsteps.

  He started daydreaming about a boy, about teaching him how to plow and work with horses. Maybe he’d even take an interest in woodwork. Gabe was so caught up in wondering how old the boy should be before he began working with the woodworking tools that he drove right past David’s lane and had to turn the buggy around.

  Honest mistake. Anyone could make it. It wasn’t as though he was preoccupied with the idea of another child. Could be years yet. Rachel was still an infant.

  Chance trotted down the lane and past the house toward David’s barn. Because it was after lunch, Gabe knew David would be working in the portion he’d turned into a toy shop.

  Before he had pulled to a stop, Seth, David’s oldest son, stepped out of the barn. Staring at the ground as he trudged toward Gabe’s horse, hands plunged into his pockets, he was the walking image of a discontented teenager. At five foot ten with sandy brown hair and a thin build, he was also a mirror image of his father. Perhaps somewhat thinner and smaller, but he’d grow into him, and he’d grow out of the surliness. As Gabe climbed down from the buggy, he almost laughed but swallowed it back. They were hard years—the ones between a child and a man—and no laughing matter. But what could cause such an expression of misery?

  “Good afternoon, Seth.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. Would you say otherwise?”

  “I’m stuck working in this barn. Ya, I guess I would.” Seth glanced up, daring Gabe to argue.

  Gabe put his own hands in his pockets and considered what Seth had said, listening for the real problem behind the words. “I suppose if I didn’t want to be in the barn, it wouldn’t be a very gut day.”

  Seth’s expression turned from surly to hopeful. “Could you tell my dat that? He doesn’t seem to understand that I don’t want to work with his cattle or plow his fields.”

  “Have you told him?”

  Seth ran the toe of his work boot across the pebbled lane. “Not in so many words,” he mumbled.


  “Huh.” Gabe ran his hand down Chance’s neck. He was truly a beautiful gelding—a quarter horse more than fifteen hands high, a dark bay with white tips. “Guess he’s not picking up on your hints.”

  “No.” Seth followed his lead and began paying attention to the horse. “This is a beautiful animal, Gabe. This is what I want to do. Work with animals, but not in a field.”

  Gabe glanced up to meet the boy’s gaze. “Explain that to your dat. I’m sure Bishop Beiler would be willing to take you as an apprentice.”

  Seth returned his attention to Chance. “I’ve heard his rules are harsh.”

  “Ya. Things are different on our side of Pebble Creek. You know that from visiting your grossdaddi.”

  “I wouldn’t be living there, though. Only working.”

  “True enough.”

  “But I’ve also heard he doesn’t abide any…stepping outside the rules.” Seth glanced up from the horse.

  David had mentioned he thought the boy was experimenting with his rumspringa. It would seem from his comments that perhaps he was caught deep in its throes.

  “I believe I’ve heard the same.” Gabe patted Chance once more. “I need to visit with your dat for about an hour. Would you see that Chance has some water?”

  “Sure thing. He’s a handsome animal.”

  Seth seemed a shade less petulant as he walked back into the barn. Gabe didn’t envy the age. It was a time he hadn’t struggled with as much as some, but he was glad when he was married and it was over. Those years reminded him of Pebble Creek when it was swollen and moving fast, as it was now. He preferred the calmer, slower days of summer same as he preferred the more contented years of married life.

  Walking into David’s toy shop and looking at shelves lined with playthings for babies up through Grace’s age, Gabe realized he was completely satisfied being a husband and father. He was glad the confusion of teenage years was behind him.

  “Gabe. I wasn’t sure you would make it today.” David walked in from the back room. He was a big man, nearly as tall as Gabe’s six foot two, which made it all the more strange to see him holding a doll cradle in his hands.