Chapter Three
At church the next morning, Lydianne fanned herself, but found no relief from the heat. The congregation was crammed into the Slabaugh sisters’ farmhouse basement—which was theoretically cooler on an August day because it was downstairs—but as the service wore on, she and her maidel friends and all the folks around them became clammy with sweat. Esther and Naomi had graciously supplied old pasteboard fans mounted on wooden handles, which Griggs Mortuary, the local funeral home, had disposed of years ago. Even Jesus and the twelve disciples, pictured in the Upper Room, appeared listless and inattentive as Lydianne fanned herself. She didn’t think it was terribly uplifting to be reminded of her demise, either, as she read the mortuary’s faded ad for pre-planned burial arrangements.
“We must never forget the folks Jesus referred to as ‘the least of these,’” Preacher Clarence Miller droned in his reedy monotone. “In this morning’s passage from Matthew’s twenty-fifth chapter, our Lord tells us that when we assist the widows and orphans amongst us—those who need our help with food and clothing and emotional support—we are ministering to Christ Himself.”
Beside Lydianne, Regina Miller shifted restlessly on the pew bench. Lydianne gently patted her best friend’s arm, knowing Regina—as an orphan—always felt uncomfortable when her uncle preached on this passage. Not long ago, when Regina had been shunned for painting and selling her amazing wildlife watercolors at The Marketplace, Preacher Clarence had insisted that she had to sell her home and move into a tiny room in his house. Although it was the Amish way for a man to take in the unattached females of his family, Regina had felt more like a prisoner than a guest while she’d endured living in the windowless room tucked beneath the Millers’ staircase.
Regina flashed Lydianne a smile. These days, her freckled face beamed with the anticipation of her marriage to Gabe Flaud. The Flaud family had surprised the couple by buying Regina’s quaint little bungalow, freshening its rooms with paint, and refinishing the hardwood floors. The bride-to-be had every reason to rejoice in the love that had redirected her maidel life.
Lydianne envied Regina’s happiness, even as she realized she, herself, couldn’t possibly marry. When she glanced down the pew bench in front of her, where Julia Nissley cradled a drowsy little Ella in her lap, Lydianne sighed inwardly.
Ella would forever be her deepest, darkest secret.
Lydianne couldn’t imagine the repercussions if the Amish congregation in Morning Star found out about her past. It would upset the Nissley family and get Lydianne shunned, at the very least.
And what husband would want to discover, when he took her to the marriage bed, that Lydianne was not the innocent young woman he’d assumed her to be? Premarital relations were not only frowned upon, they were forbidden by the Ordnung. She and Aden had crossed that line only because they were to be married—never guessing he would die the day before their wedding.
When Ella awoke, wiggling her fingers in a wave, Lydianne’s heart stood still. As the little girl matured, she resembled Aden Lapp more with each passing day. Ella had inherited her father’s nose, eyebrows, and heart-shaped face, and when she focused on Lydianne, it was as though Aden were gazing at her.
Shaken to the core, Lydianne quickly returned Ella’s wave and refocused on Preacher Clarence. She would never forget the day she and Aden had attended the Lapp family reunion, so deeply in love as they accepted the congratulations of the far-flung relatives who’d come for their wedding on the following day. Lydianne had suspected she was in the family way, and she’d planned to tell Aden when they found a few moments of privacy.
But when they’d slipped away to cool off in the state park’s shaded, secluded pond, he’d drowned.
Aden hadn’t been a strong swimmer—Lydianne wasn’t, either—yet when he’d playfully boasted that she made him feel like such a man he could cross the pond and come back, she’d encouraged him. Not wanting to get her dress wet, she’d waded in barefoot to cheer him on from the shallows. He’d reached the far shore, but as Aden started back toward her, Lydianne could tell he was struggling. When he’d flailed in the pond’s deep center, she’d run to summon help from the other folks at the reunion.
By the time they’d returned to the water, however, Aden was gone.
“Lydianne, what’s wrong?” Regina whispered near her ear.
Her friend’s low voice pulled Lydianne from her tragic memories. When she blinked, she realized tears were dribbling down her cheeks and hastily swiped at them with the back of her hand. “I’m fine,” she murmured. “Just a wandering thought. Nothing to be concerned about.”
It took all her effort to regain control of her emotions. At long last, Bishop Jeremiah pronounced the benediction. When he announced that the school board had hired her, Lydianne had to force a smile and acknowledge everyone’s congratulations. As the congregation stood up, eager to seek fresh air, she followed the women upstairs to the kitchen. But instead of helping set out the common meal, she hurried outside.
The shade of the old maple trees in the Slabaugh sisters’ backyard was an improvement over the stuffiness of the crowded basement. Her relief was cut short, however, when the men began setting up large folding tables. Before she could slip back into the kitchen to avoid questions about her damp, pink face, Billy Jay Detweiler made a beeline for her.
“Teacher Lydianne! Teacher Lydianne!” he cried out. “When Dat told me you were gonna replace Teacher Elam, I was so happy!”
The boy’s excitement gratified Lydianne—and what could she do but lean toward him and squeeze the small, strong hands that were gripping hers? “It’s going to be a wonderful-gut year, Billy Jay,” she assured him. “And won’t it be fun to start out with new desks and new books and a whole new school building?”
“Jah! Dat took me over to see it,” he replied with an emphatic nod. “The floors look so shiny and slick, I bet you could slide all the way across the room on your butt if you got a runnin’ start at it!”
“And I’d better not hear about you doing that, son,” a familiar male voice said behind them. “We’ve talked about how you’re supposed to behave in class, ain’t so?”
Lydianne turned to smile at Glenn, who was holding tiny, sleepy Levi against his shoulder. “Those floors are so shiny, I doubt he’s the only scholar who’ll try that,” she said gently.
“Jah!” Billy Jay crowed, still gripping her hands. “Me and Stevie have been talkin’ about it, and we wanna have a contest to see who can slide the farthest!”
Lydianne burst out laughing before she could catch herself. It probably wasn’t wise to let the boy think she would approve of such an activity—officially, anyway—but it was a treat to see him grinning from ear to ear. “I’m glad you’re excited about starting the school year, Billy Jay,” she said. “You’re a year ahead of Stevie, Gracie, and Ella, so you can show them the ropes.”
When the boy spotted Stevie Shetler across the yard, he darted off.
Glenn sighed apologetically. “It is a fine thing to see Billy Jay smiling again,” he remarked, swaying from side to side as he held his other son. “I’m really glad you accepted the position, Lydianne. If there’s anything I can do—anything at all—to help you, or to set my son straight when he gets too wild, I want you to come and tell me first thing, all right? And don’t think you have to have school discipline on your mind as a reason to visit.”
Lydianne blinked. Was Glenn showing interest in her, inviting her to his home?
Before she knew how to respond to his remark, she noticed that Bishop Jeremiah was unfolding a table beneath a nearby tree. His facial expression suggested that he’d caught the gist of Glenn’s conversation.
Why is he looking at us that way? Does he think Glenn’s out of line while he’s still mourning his wife—or is he jealous?
Rather than saying anything the bishop might construe as inappropriate, Lydianne cleared her throat. “Well—I really should help carry out water pitchers and utensils and such. It’s gut that we’re having a picnic today rather than eating inside, ain’t so?”
As she entered the farmhouse, she felt like a teenager at a Singing, rejoining her girlfriends to escape from boys whose attention she was trying to avoid. Lydianne shook her head at such a thought. She had no reason to duck away from the bishop or Glenn, because they were both very nice men, each in his own way—
But why let them think you’re interested? You’ll never get married, remember?
When she met up with Jo and Regina, who were each carrying a big tray of sandwiches, Lydianne held the door for them. “We maidels need to sit together today,” she said with a pasted-on smile. “We don’t have many more common meals before Regina will be married, and then she won’t want to spend her time with us after Sunday services.”
Her redheaded friend’s eyes widened. “Why would you ever think that? It’s not as though I’m going to live on a different planet after Gabe and I get hitched!”
“Jah, but you’ll have other priorities,” Jo put in with a chuckle. “As well you should!”
As they reached one of the serving tables and set down their trays, Regina motioned for Lydianne and Jo to come closer. “When I heard that this Friday would be your last day at the factory, Lydianne, I told Martin I’d be leaving then, too,” she said softly. “While you’re getting the new schoolhouse ready, I need to be helping Aunt Cora and Delores Flaud with wedding preparations, after all. They’ve insisted on taking charge of the festivities, since I don’t have a mamm to do that.”
“That’s very sweet, and I’m not one bit surprised,” Lydianne said. She looked around to be sure none of the men were listening to their conversation. “What did Martin say when you wanted to leave earlier than he’d originally figured on?”
“Jah, did he fuss—because the wedding’s not until October?” Jo asked.
Regina chuckled. “Truth be told, Delores must’ve already talked to him about the wedding preparations, because he didn’t seem all that surprised about my leaving sooner rather than later. Maybe he’s already found folks to replace us.”
As Molly and Marietta Helfing came out of the house carrying big plastic pitchers of iced tea, Jo waved them over. “We’ve just learned that Lydianne and Regina are both leaving the Flaud Furniture Factory next Friday,” she said. “I think this calls for a party, don’t you?”
“Definitely!” Molly replied. “Not that we need an excuse for a party.”
“It’s been a while since we all got together for some fun—something besides our potluck meetings in the office at The Marketplace,” her twin sister put in eagerly. “What with making so many more noodles to keep up with our Saturday sales, I’m ready to play!”
Marietta’s lighthearted remarks raised Lydianne’s spirits. Early in the year, Marietta had finished a brutal round of chemotherapy after having a bilateral mastectomy, so it was good to see her smiling again and regaining her strength. Her cape dress still hung like a sack on her too-skinny frame, and beneath her kapp, her hair was barely an inch long—but at least it was growing back.
“You could all come to my house!” Lydianne suggested. “We can also celebrate the fact that I’ll soon be a homeowner. I’m signing the contract in a couple of days. And since next week’s a visiting Sunday—”
“I’m gut with going to your place as long as you let the rest of us bring all the food,” Jo insisted. “You shouldn’t have to cook for your own party.”
“Or we could meet at my house,” Regina suggested happily. “Now that Gabe and his family have painted all the rooms and redone the floors, it’s ready for company!”
“We could have a progressive dinner!” Molly blurted. In her excitement, her white kapp shifted, revealing hair as short as her twin’s. Amish women were forbidden to cut their hair, but when Marietta had lost her long brown tresses during her chemo, Molly had defied the Ordnung and shaved her head in support of her sister. “We could start at our place with appetizers, and then head down the road to Lydianne’s for the main course—”
“Because she’s got a kitchen that’s not stacked with boxes of bagged noodles!” Marietta put in with a laugh.
“—and we could do dessert at Regina’s place,” Molly finished. “We could be eating and laughing and talking all day long next Sunday! What a great plan!”
Lydianne smiled gratefully at her friends. With these four young women for company—even if Regina was soon getting married—she knew she could get through anything.