Chapter 43
L ounging in bed, Lydia grasped the handwritten letter from Jonathan. He had sent it to the Cooks’ home in New Jersey and it must have been forwarded here. How did he even get the Cooks’ address? And did she dare read it? She couldn’t bring herself to open the envelope.
She felt like burrowing under the covers and concealing her head for the rest of the day. Because what was she doing here? When given too much freedom she fell into her wicked ways. She needed the parameters of the Amish church. She needed boundaries. Too much freedom was too much temptation for her. If she went home, that horrible man from the shoe store would be waiting for her to take more of her money—or worse.
She would have to confess to her father what she’d done and how she had gotten herself into this jam. Maybe Dat would help her, although she cringed when she thought of the vision of his escorting her to that man’s shoe store. She would have to pay the money for the shoes and maybe even confess in front of the whole congregation, which meant embarrassing her parents. But she had to own up to the truth. She was a shoplifter—a petty thief. She would have been better off in jail, now that she thought about it. Better off being arrested than being caught in the snare of deception. She couldn’t run away from the truth.
Jonathan’s face—first as the lad she’d grown up with, then his handsome features, his steely blue eyes—crystalized in her mind, making her long for him. And the smoky depth of his voice as he had matured over the years. She relived his last kiss. Maybe their final embrace. Did he even care for her anymore? Maybe he had written her to tell heard that he’d found someone better. Would he care for her once he learned of her dishonesty?
She tore open the envelope, pulled out the handwritten letter, and whispered aloud: “Dear Lydia, this is the last time I will try to reach you. I give up. I don’t know what I’ve done that is wrong, but I must assume you no longer wish to have me court you. My parents and friends tell me to find someone new, and they have a woman in mind. Is that what you want? My parents are encouraging me to meet a new woman in the district who recently moved here from Kentucky with three young children.”
Ach, he was jumping to all the wrong conclusions. Or was he? Lydia had some soul searching to do, as the Englischers would say. Life was so much simpler when her decisions were made for her. She saw now that they were in her best interest.
She forced herself to get up and leave the room. Entering the hallway, she took a left and rapped on Maureen and Amanda’s door, but all was silent. As Lydia pivoted to descend the stairs, she expected to see or hear Amanda and Maureen, but the dining room lay empty and quiet. She was surprised to see dirty plates in need of clearing on the tables. And soiled napkins laying helter-skelter.
She followed her nose to the kitchen where she heard subdued voices and came upon Denny and Alec, their heads tilted together and their voices subdued. Denny seemed to be crying. Crying over what? Then all fell silent.
Denny and Alec parted, but their eyes locked on each other. It seemed as though they were going to kiss, but then Denny noticed Lydia.
Denny’s face turned angry. “Where is Amanda?” she asked. “You scared my sister half to death.” Denny peered behind Lydia, who winced.
“Ach, I thought she was with you.”
Denny looked around the kitchen. “Well, as you can see, she isn’t.” Denny had a way of making Lydia feel inadequate, but she knew in truth that she had no reason to expect more. Lydia was hired help not a family member or a friend brought along on a carefree vacation to have fun. She had a job, but she had taken advantage of the situation. For all she knew, Maureen would fire her.
“She must be around here somewhere,” Lydia said, scoping the kitchen and seeing Molly and a young man filling the dishwasher. Ach, Lydia had promised to help tidy the dining room and kitchen. She grabbed an apron off a hook and tied it on. “I’m so sorry.”
“Never mind the kitchen when Amanda is missing,” Denny said.
Lydia felt foolish asking, “Where’s Maureen?”
“Darned if I know,” Denny said. “She took off with Gordon somewhere.”
“Have you tried contacting her?” Lydia asked.
“Knowing my sister, her cell phone is sitting by her bed upstairs.”
“I have Gordon’s number,” Alec said. “I’ll give him a jingle.”
“That would be wonderful.” Denny said. “Now if we could only get the veterinarian here.”
“What for?” Lydia asked.
“It’s Princess. She’s sick.”
“Let me run down and check on her,” Lydia said.
“What for?” Denny’s voice was tight and angry. “We need a veterinarian, but she said she can’t make it through the storm. If Princess dies, how will we care for her puppies?”
Lydia spun toward the stairs to the basement and trotted down the steps until she reached Princess, who stood panting in labored breaths. She growled at Lydia, but Lydia would not be deterred if there was any way she could help this poor animal and her litter. Lydia thought of the many times she had assisted her father out in the barn. Cows with their bawling calves, sheep with their newborn lambs, mares tending their foals. She was grateful for Dat’s calling on her for assistance. He had taught her much. Lydia moved next to Princess and felt her teats. Just as she thought. Mastitis, an engorged breast—hard and warm. A death sentence if ignored.
Princess looked up at her as if imploring help.
Lydia scrambled up the stairs. “Quick, I need warm water and towels.” She turned her attention to Molly and said, “Cabbage leaves would be best if you have them.”
“Okay.” While Denny put hot water on the stove, Lydia rifled through the vegetable compartment until she found green cabbage. “These will work fine.” Lydia tore off a dozen outer leaves. “Don’t let that water get up to boiling.” She turned down the heat and dipped the cabbage leaves in. Then she carried the pan down to the basement with care and started working on Princess’s hardened teat, warming and then massaging it until milk showed itself. Just a spot of milk but a good sign. She knew Princess was grateful, even if she couldn’t say so. Princess settled down and lay in her bed.
“You can bring the puppies back,” Lydia told Denny.
“Princess won’t need to go to the vet?” Denny asked.
“No, I think we averted the catastrophe.” Lydia attempted to keep the pride out of her voice. She assisted in returning the puppies to Princess, who relaxed and lay on her side so the pups could nurse.
At least Lydia had done one thing right for which she was grateful. But where was Amanda?