Chapter Twenty-Two
As Jeremiah walked toward his rig, he kicked himself for kissing Lydianne, probably making her feel pressured after an emotionally draining conversation with the Nissleys. If he wasn’t careful—if he didn’t show more control—he might also fire up the grapevine. Gossip could force Teacher Lydianne to have to answer even more questions than they anticipated about the story Ella was spreading. The impressionable little girl had caught them alone together, after all.
But Lydianne looked so receptive. She looked grateful for my support. She looked so beautiful even though she’s ’s exhausted and—hey, it wasn’t nearly the kind of kiss I really wanted to—
“Jeremiah? Wait!”
The way Lydianne called his name made his heart prance like a frisky colt. When he turned, she was on the schoolhouse stoop, shielding her eyes from the rays of the setting sun. Her gaze didn’t waver as she looked at him.
“Jah?” he asked, sounding painfully hopeful.
When Lydianne started toward him, Jeremiah had a heady sense that his world was about to take a huge turn for the better. Her smile appeared vulnerable and a bit shy, yet her steps didn’t falter.
“I—I’d really like to invite you to supper, Jeremiah, but there’s nothing much to eat and the house is messy and I—”
“Sounds like a fine night for me to get a pizza and a salad uptown,” he suggested. He hoped he hadn’t overstepped by inviting himself to her house—or incorrectly assumed she was as open to their relationship as he was.
Lydianne’s blue eyes widened with gratitude. “That would be perfect. And maybe, for once, we’ll actually get to eat a meal uninterrupted.”
“Sounds a lot better than going into the pizza place, where any number of folks we know might see us,” he remarked. “Of course, I would be proud to be seen with you—”
“Not yet. Right now, my emotions feel as fragile as a spider web. People’s assumptions at seeing us together are more than I want to handle.”
Suddenly, Jeremiah felt infused with the setting sun’s warmth and bright splendor. This day was ending a lot better than it could have, and for that he was grateful to God—and to Lydianne, for giving him another chance. “I understand,” he said with a nod. “What if I head into town and get our supper ordered, and I’ll be at your place right after they box it up for me?”
Her eager nod, so childlike and happy, sent his heart into somersaults. Lydianne was such a delightful young woman, easy to please and able to move forward despite the unexpected surprises that had come at her since last Friday. Jeremiah reminded himself that if he rushed ahead in this relationship, however, she might slap him down again—maybe for good this time.
“It’s such a relief that you know about me now, yet you . . . you don’t hold any of my secrets against me,” she explained softly. “Ever since I knew I was carrying Ella—and even after I gave her up—I believed my future as a maidel alone was pretty much set in concrete. What man would have me, if he ever found out about my past?”
“I would,” Jeremiah immediately whispered. He reached out to stroke her cheek, yearning for a deep, serious kiss to commemorate this moment. But it wasn’t the right time or place. “How about if we talk more about this at your place? You have school tomorrow, so I promise I won’t stay very late—although I really want to.”
Lydianne glanced back toward the schoolhouse. “I’ll gather up my books and head home now. I’m too keyed up to write tomorrow’s lesson lists on the board anyway. See you when you get there.”
Jeremiah got into his rig with a fresh spring in his step. He reminded himself that they were only sharing a simple supper and some conversation—and the conversation needed to stay light. This was no time to gallop ahead and tell Lydianne that another reason he loved her was because she could give him children—
Don’t lay that on her yet! After losing her fiancé and enduring her fam ily’s judgment and giving up her child to start a new life—and then having to confess that Ella is her child—Lydianne has had more than enough domestic drama. She needs to know I love her for who she is rather than for what she can give me.
As a bishop who’d dealt with other people’s personal problems for years, Jeremiah knew the voice in his head—which might well be the voice of God—was right.
But as a man, he had dreams. After years of longing for a family and then losing Priscilla, he rejoiced in the chance to start afresh.
He had to bide his time, however. Patience was a virtue that could help him avoid more false starts with Lydianne. And once the folks in their church district realized he was courting her, a whole new set of expectations would come into play. He and Lydianne would be living in a fishbowl, with everyone wondering how soon they would marry—and, consequently, how soon their children would need to adjust to a new teacher.
But you’re putting the cart before the horse again. Just get that pizza and enjoy a quiet—short—evening with the wonderful woman who finally wants to be with you.
About an hour later, Jeremiah urged his buggy horse into a canter, headed toward Lydianne’s house just outside Morning Star’s main business district. The aromas of sausage, cheese, and spices drifted from the box on the seat beside him, and he was suddenly famished—but for more than mere pizza.
How long had it been since he’d enjoyed the company of a woman who would require his best behavior? Being a married man had allowed him to slip into a comfortable routine with a wife who’d known his habits, preferences, and foibles—and had loved him anyway. And living with his mother had spoiled him in other ways, because he’d never needed to impress Mamm or tell her his preferences.
With Lydianne, he’d have to rethink his assumptions. He’d need to make room in his heart and home for a woman with tastes that would differ from Priscilla’s.
Will she want to use her own dishes and kitchen equipment? Will she want to make changes in my house so it will feel like home to her? What if she wants to remain in her own home, the way Regina did?
Jeremiah laughed at himself, shaking his head to clear it of questions that didn’t yet require answers. Tired as he was from Ella’s disappearance and Lydianne’s recent revelations, he felt like a new man as he guided Mitch up the lane toward the yellow house nestled among trees adorned in autumn’s glorious colors. After he hitched his horse at the side of her home and bounded up onto her porch, Lydianne’s voice came through the screen door.
“Come on in, Jeremiah!”
He was so ready to hear that. He stepped into the front room with their dinner and looked around. There wasn’t a sign of a stray newspaper or any books strewn on the floor or coffee table, as was often the case at his place. A crocheted afghan was perfectly centered on the sofa. A battery lamp glowed in welcome on an end table. “For a house that’s supposedly so messy, your place looks very neat and tidy to me, Lydianne,” he called out.
When she appeared in the kitchen doorway, drying her hands on a white flour sack towel, her smile was catlike. “Don’t open any closets,” she warned with a lifted eyebrow. “All the clutter I just crammed into them will fall out and knock you flat.”
Jeremiah laughed loudly. When Lydianne’s laughter mingled with his, it filled his soul with a mirth he’d forgotten how to feel—so he kept laughing as he approached her. When he slipped his arm around her shoulders, still chuckling, she stepped into his embrace as though it were a longtime habit instead of something new and exhilarating.
When Lydianne gazed up at him, he forgot everything else. When he kissed her, softly at first, her willing lips moved with his in such a perfect fit that Jeremiah deepened the kiss and poured all his hopes and dreams into it. Moments later, he heard the pizza bag hit the floor, but he didn’t care.
Lydianne was in his arms. She was clinging to him, returning his affection in a way that sent his body into a state of eager need. It would be so simple, so natural to remove her kapp, to pluck the pins that held her long, blond hair—
Her gasp brought Jeremiah back to his senses.
“Oh, but we can’t go down this road right now,” she rasped as she reluctantly stepped away from him. “The last time I did, I had Ella, after all.”
Jeremiah inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known better than to—”
“Don’t be sorry. We’ve both needed that kiss for a long time,” she whispered. She smoothed her apron, as if to set her emotions to rights along with her clothing. “How about if we pick our dinner up off the floor and go sit with a kitchen table between us. That sounds a lot safer, jah?”
He chuckled. As the older, more experienced person in the room—not to mention as the bishop—he hadn’t expected Lydianne to set the boundaries for their behavior when they were alone together.
But thank God she did. It would’ve been so easy to forget all about food . . .
“You’re a wise woman, Miss Christner,” he murmured as he stooped to grasp the bag’s handles. “Maybe that’s why you’re the teacher and I’m suddenly feeling like a smitten schoolboy again, jah?”
As they entered her kitchen, Jeremiah noted that it was much smaller than the ones in most Amish homes—but then, why would a woman living alone need as many cabinets or a table that expanded to seat ten or twelve family members? He waited for Lydianne to choose one of the chairs that had a plate in front of it, then sat down across from her. Jeremiah felt her gaze as he took the pizza box and the container of salad from the bag.
“I’m feeling as tossed as that salad,” Lydianne admitted with a little laugh. “At least the lid stayed closed.”
“We have a lot to be thankful for,” Jeremiah agreed as he opened the cardboard box in the center of the table. “The pizza stayed intact, too. Pretty much, anyway,” he added as he straightened the slices that had flipped on top of others.
When he bowed his head, he reached across the table for her hand—just as he’d done with Priscilla for so many years. It felt exactly right to have Lydianne’s fingers curled around his while they shared a silent prayer before their meal. Her gentle grasp centered him, helping him focus on the moment despite the way the aromas of warm sausage and cheese made his stomach rumble.
Lord, this is Your doing, and I’m so grateful for this chance to laugh and love again. Help me not to mess it up.
When he opened his eyes, Lydianne was gazing at him with such a gentle smile, Jeremiah knew he would feel at home no matter where he was, as long as she was with him. As they ate, he purposely kept the conversation light, mostly centered on the upcoming activities she was planning for the scholars as the holidays approached. They were each picking up a third piece of pizza when loud banging on the front door startled them.
Wide-eyed, Lydianne rose to answer the knock while Jeremiah got up to peer out the kitchen window. He let out a sigh when he recognized the rig parked alongside Mitch—and heard familiar voices in the front room.
Deacon Saul said, “Lydianne, I regret our need to barge in and bother you—”
“But we’ve heard a very interesting story,” Martha Maude interrupted in a strident tone. “We came here right away to hear what you have to say about it.”
Jeremiah closed his eyes wearily, regretting this intrusion even though he wasn’t particularly surprised about it. Before the Hartzlers could trap Lydianne in a conversational corner, he went out to greet them. They’d seen Mitch, so they already knew he was here.
“Good evening, folks,” he said as nonchalantly as he could. “We were just having some pizza after a rather unsettling day. Care to join us?”
Two sets of curious eyes gazed first at Lydianne and then at him, as the deacon and his outspoken mother drew their silent conclusions about his presence in Lydianne’s kitchen.
“Would your unsettling day have anything to do with the exciting news Ella was telling us about?” Martha Maude asked. “I was helping Rose with baby Suzanna when Ella burst into the kitchen with Gracie after school. The first words out of her mouth were about you being her mother, Lydianne. She sounded absolutely certain about this—said she’d heard you talking about it—”
“And meanwhile, at the schoolhouse, Tim and Julia were telling us the very same story,” Jeremiah put in matter-of-factly. Lydianne’s face had paled, and she seemed at a loss for words, so he hoped his explanation would nip the Hartzlers’ curiosity in the bud. As two of the most influential members of their church, they might well determine how convincing—and how successful—he and the Nissleys would be at extinguishing this blazing-hot news about Teacher Lydianne.
Jeremiah gestured toward the kitchen. “Come sit down. I’m sure you have questions.”
“Oh, jah—questions. That doesn’t begin to cover it,” Saul said as he studied Lydianne’s facial features.
Jeremiah was grateful that Martha Maude was heading toward the table, so her son would follow her. He prayed fervently that God would give him words to convince the Hartzlers to stop this story in its tracks . . . even if he had to lie a little to protect Lydianne and the Nissley family. “Let me start by saying that Lydianne and I were talking at her desk after school on Monday, about a lot of different things—”
“And we didn’t realize that Ella had come in,” Lydianne added in a voice that shook with emotion.
“Our best guess is that she overheard just enough of our conversation to piece things together as only an imaginative six-year-old can,” Jeremiah continued valiantly. “Like a lot of first-year scholars, Ella has become so attached to Teacher Lydianne—the first woman after her mamm to be her teacher—that she’s gotten it in her head that Lydianne could be her mother because she wants her to be.”
He watched the reactions play over their guests’ faces as they took the other two seats at the table. Martha Maude’s hawk-sharp mind could cut unerringly through fibs and smoke screens, and she never hesitated to state her opinions. Saul tended to reserve judgment—to keep track of loopholes and discrepancies on his mental tally sheet—until he’d heard enough to say that the particulars of a story didn’t add up.
“Don’t you recall that kind of attachment, Saul?” Jeremiah continued earnestly. “I was so in love with my teacher, I was telling everyone I intended to marry her—and I was quite a bit older than Ella when I was spreading this tale.”
The deacon’s lips lifted. “Jah, I recall having such a crush, but everybody knew the story wasn’t true—chalked it up to little-boy talk,” he countered. “In this case, Lydianne is certainly old enough to have had a child—back before she came to Morning Star. And the resemblance is impossible to miss, once you start looking.”
Resisting the urge to grasp Lydianne’s hand, Jeremiah persisted with his argument. “But—even though we adults know that the Nissleys adopted Ella as a newborn—she could certainly be Tim and Julia’s biological child if you compare her features and complexion to theirs,” he said earnestly. “My mamm has always said I’m the spitting image of my dat, yet other people tell me they see her features all over my face.”
Martha Maude had been following the conversation closely, her forehead furrowed with thought. “Jah, beauty’s in the eye of the beholder,” she quipped. “Saul would’ve been better off if he’d inherited more of my features, don’t you think?”
As her son scowled at her off-hand remark, she sat back in her chair. “I’ll never forget the day—I was a first-year scholar just like Ella—when I slipped up and called my teacher Mamm, right in front of my mother. As you’ve said, Jeremiah, first-year scholars form a close attachment to their teachers because they spend all day with them instead of with their mamms, drinking in every word they say.”
Jeremiah let her statement stand, hoping Saul would follow her logic.
“I also recall knowing a few kids who were adopted, as well as daydreaming that I might’ve had different parents, too,” Martha Maude continued softly. “It’s a phase a lot of kids go through, I think. I didn’t quiz Ella too closely about her story, because I don’t believe she knows that Tim and Julia adopted her as a newborn.”
“That’s right—they haven’t told her,” Jeremiah chimed in, grateful for the opening Martha Maude had given him. “They want to discuss Ella’s adoption with her when she’s older and better able to understand. Even as we speak, they’re instructing Ella not to repeat what she overheard because she might’ve gotten it wrong—and because eavesdropping on adults’ conversations isn’t proper behavior.”
Saul’s eyes narrowed as he considered this. “But if Lydianne really is Ella’s mother—”
“This matter is not up for discussion.” Jeremiah leaned toward the deacon, holding his gaze. “As the bishop, I have chosen to honor the Nissleys’ request to keep this matter conf idential—to preserve the privacy of all involved. God already knows the details, after all.”
Saul scowled. “But if Lydianne really is—you can’t just sweep her situation under the rug as though—”
“Jah, he can—and for gut reason,” Martha Maude interrupted as she, too, held Saul’s gaze. “Think of the unfortunate consequences for Tim and Julia and Ella—and for the other scholars and their parents—if we were to pursue this matter the way you’re thinking we should, son. You don’t always have to be right.”
Saul’s eyes widened. When he opened his mouth to argue, his mother kept talking so he wouldn’t have the chance.
“God chose Jeremiah as our bishop,” Martha Maude said firmly. “We should accept his decisions about family matters and allow this situation to play out in its own gut time, the way the Nissleys have requested. I have all faith that Jeremiah has crossed the t’s and dotted the i’s, as far as Old Order beliefs about confession are concerned.”
Saul shook his head vehemently. “But we need to at least inform the preachers—”
“My lips are sealed,” his mother shot back, making a zipper motion with her fingers across her mouth. “I intend to tell anyone who repeats Ella’s story that she’s a little girl and she got it wrong. If other folks whip this situation into a frenzy, demanding a Members Meeting and Lydianne’s confession, we’ll know who told them to do that, won’t we, Saul?”
The kitchen rang with silence. Only when the deacon’s shoulders fell as a sign of his resigned acceptance did Jeremiah allow himself to breathe again. “Denki for your vote of confidence and your compassionate understanding, Martha Maude,” he murmured.
“Jah, I—and the Nissleys—appreciate it more than you know,” Lydianne whispered hoarsely.
Martha Maude reached over to grasp Lydianne’s shoulder. “Every one of us has a secret or two we’ve tucked into our hearts, because some things really are best kept between us and our Lord,” she said gently. “Bless you for all the gut work you’ve done with our scholars, Lydianne. We’ll go now and leave you to finish your dinner.”
Saul didn’t appear entirely satisfied with the outcome of their conversation, but he knew it was over because his mother had declared that it was. With a nod at Jeremiah, he followed Martha Maude out of the kitchen.
Jeremiah and Lydianne escorted them to the front door with a minimum of small talk. Only when the Hartzler buggy was on the road did the bishop slip his arm around her shoulders. “That conversation certainly could’ve ended differently.”
Lydianne let out a strained laugh. “I had no idea Martha Maude would take our side—or that she’d stand up to her son,” she said. “In most districts, the deacon’s opinion would’ve overruled anyone else’s—except the bishop’s.”
Jeremiah gently turned her toward the kitchen again. “Martha Maude calls a spade a spade, no matter who’s holding it,” he remarked, “but I was grateful that she realized the consequences of bringing this matter to a Members Meeting. I wish I’d done a better job of keeping your identity as Ella’s mother out of it, but I didn’t want to tell Saul an outright lie.”
“I would never expect you to lie for me, Jeremiah,” Lydianne murmured as she sank wearily into her chair at the table. “As it was, I was too nervous to give you much help. If you hadn’t stood up for me and the Nissleys, my reputation would be toast. I’d have to start packing.”
“We don’t know that. The congregation might accept you back into the fold after your shunning—”
“But the damage would’ve been done, and Ella would know that Julia and Tim aren’t her birth parents,” Lydianne insisted. “Thank gutness Martha Maude believes the Nissleys should handle that information as they see fit, instead of making it a matter for public discussion.”
As Jeremiah glanced at the remainder of their cold pizza and the salad that had gotten soggy, he didn’t have much appetite for it. “I suspect you need time to process what’s happened today, and to prepare for your classes tomorrow, so I’ll be on my way,” he said softly. Then he chuckled. “I also suspect that Mamm wonders why I’ve not come home for the supper she’s fixed. At least she’ll be pleased that I was with you, even though I won’t reveal what we’ve been dealing with.”
“Margaret will get some ideas about our supper, jah—and I won’t be surprised if the Hartzlers mention to folks that they found us together, as well.” Lydianne’s eyebrows arched. “Some news is just too interesting to keep quiet about, ain’t so?”
Jeremiah was pleased to see hints of happiness in her expression, considering the times she’d turned him away. “When you’re the bishop, you live in a fishbowl, Sunshine. I hope you won’t mind it that folks in the congregation will be paying very close attention to our comings and goings now.”
She shrugged. “If they’re talking about us and our potential future, they’re leaving other topics alone, right? At least I hope they will,” she added with a sigh. “A lot of the more conservative church members would believe I’m not fit company for you if they knew I had Ella out of wedlock.”
“Phooey on that.” He clasped her small, sturdy hand between his. “We’re adults. We’ll decide what’s best for us regardless of what other folks might say. Are you with me on that, Lydianne?”
When she held his gaze and nodded, Jeremiah felt something wonderfully satisfying lock into place, as though his heart was a jigsaw puzzle and he’d finally found the missing piece he’d been searching for.