Benjamin Troyer had been welcomed home. His failing heart had slowed to a stop, and poor sweet Penny Lapp had been the unfortunate who had chosen that day to take her turn visiting with him. Penny was crying even now, but Lydia had run all out of free comfort to give as the funeral had concluded and the meal finished.
Hannah was consoling their fragile friend right now. Hannah had been good at consoling lately. She had told Hannah about Andy in the barn two nights ago. Hannah didn’t hide her pleasure and even offered to pay a driver to deliver Andy Weaver back to Ohio where he belonged. It made Lydia laugh then, but today, tears were in order. Ben had been a gut man, his wisdom profound, and Lydia would miss their long talks.
As people began making their way home, Lydia stood still, staring at the lonely little house Ben had lived in. Heaven would hold him now, but she would much rather have kept the dear man near as opposed to letting God have him. Who else would tell tales of her daed and his foolish boyhood of racing buggies and hiding cigars under trap doors in old corn cribs? Who else would know what she had done and seen how it affected her?
As the sun angled right from its high place in the sky, Lydia felt the overbearing heat of the day enhance her weary mood and tired mind. As everyone made their leave from the small home and simple yard, Lydia removed the black bonnet and adjusted her kapp. At least that felt better. Now all that was left was tidying up and closing the quiet house until it would be needed once more.
“The ladies are coming tomorrow to tend to the haus. I will take the kinner back to the farm while you finish with the tables,” Hazel said, shaking Lydia from her downtrodden thoughts.
Lydia didn’t turn to face her mudder for fear of bursting into tears once more.
“Don’t be long, my dear.” Hazel squeezed her shoulders and left her to finish.
Mudder knew her too well. She did need a moment alone. So many people had left her, either for glory or by choice, and for the life of her, she couldn’t adjust to the loneliness it filled her with.
“We are leaving too, Lydia,” Hannah said, approaching. “Silas said he would take you home and help fold up the tables. I will be here tomorrow and help.”
“Danki, Hannah. You have been a gut friend this day.”
“I am a gut friend every day.”
Hannah winked before embracing Lydia into a rare hug. Hannah wasn’t one for affection. “I know you and Ben were close, but he is in Gott’s hands now.”
She knew that. She just didn’t like it. Lydia watched her leave before taking to task tidying up the tables.
Folding each of the table coverings one by one, lightheadedness caused her to sway. Had she forgotten to eat? After thinking on it, she realized she had forgotten in her hurry to help others.
Stupid. Stupid.
She gripped the table and closed her eyes, waiting for the dizziness to pass. When she felt the tablecloths slip from under her arm, Lydia’s eyelids flew open.
“Let me help.”
“I don’t need help.”
“You cannot do everything all the time. We are a community, we help each other.” Was Silas going to fuss at her today? Could she not even do kind, right?
“I wanted to be alone more than I wanted help.” Lydia’s words snapped through the air, then she gathered herself.
“Lydia, you’re exhausted. Just stop. Take a breath. Have you even eaten anything today?”
“I do not want to breathe or eat. I want to be alone.” Maybe that was too loud. A little spoiled child loud. It didn’t affect him as she expected it would have.
“You do so much for others. Please let me tend to this much for you. It is just a few tablecloths.”
Despite how kind and patient he was being, she couldn’t let herself care. Silas’s heart belonged to another, and regardless of her bleak future, she was not the kind to interfere with someone else’s.
“I got it. You may go.” Don’t look at him.
“Nee. You do not have it.”
Lydia stopped moving. The veneer of her busy cracked, and she glared at him for slowing her, for presuming to know her. He stood his ground. The longer they stood, the wearier she became, and soon her eyes glistened with unwelcomed tears. “I let go.” Her voice trembled her weak confession in brokenness.
“Let go?” His brows furrowed into confusion.
“You should have never let me know those children. You should have trusted yourself and found someone who would be better. I am not a woman who can be trusted with such things as those beautiful children.” If Silas Graber had a thought, she didn’t hear it as she ran away, all the way back to the farm without looking back.
***
She had no plan or idea where she was going but she did know she wasn’t going to stop walking until her legs ached. What better way to be forced to her knees than falling? And she was falling. Andy was returning to Ohio, Silas was a fool who flirted and teased with her when he had every intention to love another, and Ben was gone, taking her secret with him. She chided herself for almost giving that up to Silas.
Lydia stomped past the large farmhouse, past the barn with its flowerbed springing forth with life, and aimed straight for the back pasture.
Ben had told her she needed to move on, that she wasn’t to blame for that horrible day, but she couldn’t believe him. Who else could be blamed for letting go of the horses and causing her daed’s death?
No one, that’s who.
The day’s warmth had given way to a cool evening. She continued clomping forward without any real destination. Trudging through the tall, damp grass and uneven earth, she measured her life choices. She would live and die a caregiver or burden.
The northern pasture was a lush green and glistened in dew.
Andy thought I would kiss him even after knowing about him seeing another woman. Silas thought he could spark flames with no intention of honoring them.
A tree line came into sight and she aimed toward it.
Ben even said those children needed me. That I understood their loss.
“But I don’t understand.” Her voice cried out for Him. It wasn’t like a single ear would hear her heartbreak out here. No one to tell her she was crazy for talking to herself or fussing with God. She spit as something flew to her lips, fearing a gnat or bug came too close.
Sounds of music slowed her pace, the kind Englisch kids often blared out of their cars while speeding past on the road. It wafted through a tree line of oak and poplar. Lydia stopped and listened to the twang of a man singing about his need to find a runaway woman. It was laughable. There would be no man searching for her but running away did hold some appeal right now.
Edging closer to the sounds and adopting the shadows, she stepped lightly. Concealed in thick brambles, elder bushes, and old trees knowing the earth’s secrets, she spied a dozen or so Amish teenagers indulging in the pleasures of rumspringa, or their runaround years.
She had missed those years—poor choices of her own doing, of course, but she’d missed them all the same. Weekends for her were writing letters, pining over Andy Weaver, and dreaming of tomorrows, not living for her today. She had been a fool, that was for sure and certain.
A couple young maedels were dressed in Englisch clothing, but she recognized them well enough. Two boys she was certain were sons of the bank teller in town poked each other in playful fun. The sweet lady who collected deposits for the bakery had their picture displayed for all to see when you came to her counter. The mingling was worrisome, and not real smart if she did say so herself. How many more years until Aiden would be in a scene like this one? She would have to tie Gideon to the bed when his time came, that was for sure.
Another tune started, capturing her attention. Lydia swayed to a low beat. It was a dreadful tune full of melancholy, but this missed opportunity she would take. She had missed so many things before her baptism.
Did all music sound woeful? No one seemed happy, but the instruments lightened any lonesome feeling the singer’s words gave. She had always imagined spinning in a circle until all she felt was dizzy, and she did.
Arms out, eyes heavenward, she spun. It was a strange and forbidden freedom that those on the other side of the fence would never understand, or maybe they did, and she was the only one who had never slowed down to embrace it. Not a soul but God to see out here. She would not apologize for it after and do this one thing for herself.
A hand clamped onto hers, another hand captured her waist, bringing her to a stop. “Silas,” she blurted out when her eyes locked on to his. Embarrassment ran hot over her cheeks.
“May I?” he asked in that deep, alluring voice that always sent her nerves into overdrive.
Flummoxed, her shock strangled any words hoping to escape. He held her so close that she could see a fleck of yellow in his right eye. How had he even known where to find her?
“I think every beautiful woman should have the chance to do that one thing they always dreamed of.” He spun her once, forcing a surprising giggle out of her, before pulling her close again. Since when did Amish men know how to dance?
“Mary May told me,” he confessed through a shy grin.
What a handsome face he had. “I am sorry. You must think—” He shushed her with a finger’s touch and took her hand back into his.
“You have no idea what I think, but it’s time you do.”
He guided her into a slow dance, and she felt her mind go dizzy by his abrupt appearance, his touch, and the way he was looking at her now. There were no doubts left. She loved him, heart and mind. She loved him, his children, his life, and wanted it for herself. God must think her the worst of all.
“You defended Gideon, even after he caused you to fall at the bakery.”
Seeing her shocked expression, he smiled until the corners of his eyes crinkled like a leaf to a flame. Another sound came on the old truck radio, but this time Lydia didn’t hear the words sung, her focus solely on the man holding her and giving her this moment. The world was theirs, for a time, and she was dancing. Dancing with the man she loved.
“You hung the hummingbird feeders back up,” she said, careful to keep her feet moving in perfect line with his. His touch was magnetic, and she felt her body relax a little as their bodies moved in sync with one another. If he only knew the thrill he was giving her right now.
“You destroyed my kitchen and cut Mary May’s hair.” His lips were teasing now, holding that boyish mischievous grin.
“You returned my books.” She held his gaze without sway.
“They were gut books.”
Had he read them? How many surprises did he have in him?
“I would have returned them sooner, but…” He winked. “I had to see everyone got their happy ending.”
“You got my bike from a stranger’s car, taught me to face my fears, and I heard you bought lavender.” Now she was smiling, teasing, hoping she was doing it right. Flirting was not natural to everyone.
“And bees. You forgot I hope to add that to this life we have made.”
Had they begun building a life? The knots in her stomach tightened.
“I have come to love the scent of honey. It smells just like you.” He leaned forward, breathing her in. “I want that smell everywhere.”
She trembled, straining to retain some sense of decency, but her weak knees had her melting deeper into him.
“I thought lavender was more your liking.” She was getting better at this flirting thing. He was here, for her, and she knew without a doubt this dance was his way of telling her that.
Silas chuckled. “I will never love the scent of lavender…that much. If you hadn’t wanted to plant it, I promise you I would have never bought any.” She placed her hand on his chest. Silas’s heart was pounding even harder, faster than her own.
They held on tightly as if letting go would bring this precious moment to an end. With his head above hers, she rested her face on his chest and breathed in every scent that made him all man.
Moonlight was veiled behind a cloud-thick sky. For a moment, the dark swallowed them into a private haven, a safe and impenetrable place where nothing could seek them. It was a small slice of time that belonged only to them. She wanted to stay there, in his arms surrounded by night. How long she had needed arms to hold her like this. It was a feeling akin to home.
Too soon the moon returned and when she peered up again, Silas lowered his head to her. “Silas?” she whispered, recognizing he too had needs to be addressed.
“Now would be the time to argue, tell me to stop,” he said. “I cannot strum up the courage to let go and walk away right now.”
He leaned so close their breaths mingled. She held firm, surprised at her own strength as the warmth inside become a blaze.
“I heard what you said,” he whispered.
So close. So wonderfully close.
“I know you want your first kiss to be with the man you love, the one whom you choose to marry.”
His arms tightened around her. His lips a feathery touch.
“Let me be that man.”
One hand slid from her waist and eased upward, cradling her cheek. Lydia leaned into his touch. He loved her, wanted her, leaving no doubts between them.
“You want me? Are you sure?”
“My sweet, beautiful Lydia Rose.” His thumb caressed her jawline, the intensity causing her to shudder. The kiss dangled before her, and she waited for the man who had lost so much to want love again—and love her. Why would he want her to leave if he was looking at her like that? Could he not see she had been waiting for him all along? Why was love this confusing? It should be simpler.
“Silas, I don’t want to leave.”
“Then you have a choice to make. Because, if you do not walk away now, I will kiss you.”
The threat, the promise of his words, only sent more shivers through her.
Please, please do that.
“I thought you had feelings for another. I heard you tell Jenny you had an interest, and she knew it.”
“I have only ever cared for you,” he said, desperation painting his words. “I did not want to come between you and Andy. If that is what you want, I wanted you to have what made you happy.”
“We both thought wrong about the other.”
“Wasted time,” he said in a rusty tone.
“Silas, I only want you.”
Like everything he did, Silas took control, devouring her lips so fast Lydia barely had time to blink, but her response was complete surrendering. If not for the need for air, neither would have stopped.
“Just like honey,” he whispered in her ear as his lips roamed.
She held tightly. He had challenged her, and she was the better for it. His lips found hers again, and she knew she would be the better for that too.
“I am sorry.” He pulled back, breathless. “I have wanted to tell you, craved telling you so long. I am not being fair. You deserve to be treated with the proper respect of a gentleman. Forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive. I rather like that you feel you cannot have enough of me. I thought you loathed me.” She chuckled. How could they have misread everything this badly?
“I never loathed you, dear.” He brushed his palm along her face. “Kept my distance. Found reasons to not be near you. You have no idea how hard that was.”
“I have some idea,” she smiled up at him. Silas Graber was in love—with her.
“I love you. I want you to stay. Stay with me, here. I want to marry you and keep you always by me.” Usually courting and a respectable amount of time passed before two people spoke to the bishop and asked to be wed. Then there was that allotted time for publication, two weeks before the wedding. Looking at this man now, Lydia felt that if he could bend the world to serve him, they would marry by tonight.
“I would love to marry you, Silas Graber. I love you too.” Silas grinned happily when she wrapped both arms around his neck and kissed him. “How long before we can marry?” she said with bated breath.
“Not soon enough.”