A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series) (34 page)

Yet all of that wasn’t enough. It was a beautiful summer morning, but she had the strongest feeling that something
else
was wrong.

They were hurrying toward the cabins, which were all occupied—every single one, and she didn’t feel at all happy about it.

Why was that?

What was the matter with her? Perhaps she did need a
rumspringa
.

Clara sat cornered on her side of the buggy, head cradled once more against her arm, eyes closed. Resting awkwardly, even she looked more content than Lydia felt.

Lydia allowed her some peace as they traveled the last of the way to the cabins. Pulling into the parking lot, as Tin Star began to slow, she reached over and nudged Clara.

“Wake up.”

“What do you want?”

“You’ll have to take care of Tin Star.”

“Me?”

“
Ya
, you. I need to start breakfast for the guests.”

“Why me?” Clara sat up, patting her
kapp
into place. “Aaron always takes care of our horse.”

“Aaron stayed with David last night. Remember? Now take care of Tin—” The words fell away as she caught site of the front door of the office.

“I don’t see why I have to do it. I can cook as well as you can. I believe you enjoy bossing me around, Lydia, and it’s not fair—”

“Stop talking.”

“What?”

“Hold these.” Lydia tossed the reins at her sister and jumped out of the buggy. She could hear Clara still complaining, questioning her, but as soon as her feet touched the ground, she raised the hem of her dress and began to run toward the front porch of the office.

Grace hurried from her room, through the sitting room, and into the kitchen. She slipped into her chair at the table without making a sound.

Today was the day—the day
mammi
was going to the medical center in Eau Claire. She had remembered the moment her eyes had popped open, remembered and said a prayer for her safety and healing. It was an important day for their family.

But
mammi
wasn’t what had caused her to dress hurriedly and make a beeline to the kitchen. No, she’d finally made peace in her prayers over her grandmother, her illness, and what was to happen today.

Daddi
Joshua had been right. A little more time studying her Bible had helped.
Gotte
would take care of her grandmother. She could trust Him. Grace would still be glad when this day was over, glad when Doc Hanson said the meds had worked—if they worked. She sure hoped and prayed they would, but as
daddi
had said—God loved them more than that heifer loved its calf. She didn’t need to be afraid. He would take care of her and
daddi
and
mammi
.

What had sent her hurrying down the hall was the dream which had plagued her all night long. It seemed as if she had dreamed it again and again, like a song from church stuck in her head—except this was a picture, something she’d seen and tried to draw.

She needed to fix the drawing she’d started last Saturday. If she fixed it, maybe the dream would leave her alone. She flipped through her sketchbook as she sat in her usual place at the breakfast table. This one picture had been bothering her.

It was unfinished.

Finding the picture that was on her mind, she bent over the page. Pencil in hand, she set to work adding the details from her dream before she forgot them, shading in the trees that crowded the banks along Pebble Creek between the cabins and the river.

Miriam walked into the room, baby Rachel in her arms. “You’re up early this morning.”

“
Ya
. I woke up thinking about something I’d seen.”

“Is that so?” Miriam moved toward the stove, where she’d already heated
kaffi
for Gabe. Grace had smelled it as soon as she’d walked into the kitchen. The room was warm and cozy even though it was big. It also smelled nice—not so much because of the
kaffi
, but because of the hot biscuits in the oven.

Things like that were better since Miriam had married her
dat
—less burned food, for instance. Lots of things were
gut
again. Grace sure was glad Miriam had said yes when her
dat
had put the Valentine’s Day note in her teacher’s lunch box. She loved her first mother, but she also loved her new mother. She remembered how it felt not to have one. It felt bad, and for more reasons than the ruined meals.

Not having a
mamm
felt lonely. Was Miriam worried about that now?

Grace put her pencil down, twisted around in her chair, and studied Miriam.

“Are you okay?”

Miriam turned from the stove, Rachel crooked in her left arm. “I’m
gut
, Grace.
Danki
.”

“You’re not sad or worried about
mammi
?”

“I was, but I’m better now. Still a little nervous, maybe. But I’m glad today is the day.”

“
Ya
. I want her to start feeling better.”

“Me too.”

Grace ran her hand over the back of the chair. “When do you leave?”

“They’ve hired a driver. She’ll pick up your grandparents first and come by for me about nine.”

“And you’ll take Rachel? Because I could stay home and watch her.”

“I think Rachel will be a good distraction for your
mammi
, but it’s sweet of you to offer.” Miriam walked over to the cradle she kept in the kitchen and placed Rachel in it.

Grace peeked at her sister, who smiled back at her. She seemed content to lie there, sucking on her fingers. “Will
mammi
have to stay overnight?”

“
Nein
. We’ll be home by the time you’re out of school.”

Grace nodded, satisfied that things were finally moving along. She turned back around in her chair and focused again on her drawing, on the forest, and on what she’d seen there.

“I only need to make hot cereal for breakfast. We still have a few minutes before your
dat
will be here. Would you like some juice or milk to drink?”

Grace held the drawing at arms’ length, and then she bent to add more darkness to the woods.

“Honey…”

“
Ya
?”

“Juice or milk?”

“Oh.” Grace glanced around the kitchen, confused at first by the question. Of course she’d heard Miriam talking about breakfast, but it had been like the sound of the wind in the trees—background sound. “Milk would be
gut
.”

She returned to her drawing.

“You’re focusing awfully hard.”

“
Ya
. I had a dream about this picture. Do you think that’s odd,
mamm
? To have a dream about a picture?”

“I don’t know. I used to have dreams about teaching, or sometimes about a novel we were reading. I suppose it’s not so unusual.”

“That’s a relief. I was worried maybe I was becoming
narrisch
.”

At that moment Gabe clomped into the mudroom. “Did I hear someone in my home is acting
narrisch
again?”

Miriam smiled and moved to the stove to heat their oatmeal.

“He has some gray in his beard, but he still hears well,” Grace murmured.

“I heard that!” her
dat
hollered.

Some of her tension from the dream drained away—some, but not all of it. What had troubled her so much? It wasn’t as if anything from the woods could reach her here. She was safe at home, and besides, she was no longer a baby who should be frightened by a dream.

But there had been something threatening, something dark—

“What a beautiful sight this May morning. Three lovely gals in the kitchen and the smell of hot
kaffi
and fresh biscuits.” Gabe walked to the stove, poured a cup of
kaffi
, and kissed her
mamm
.

Grace knew not all parents were as affectionate as hers. She’d asked Lily and Sadie. Lily never saw her parents kiss, and Sadie had only walked into a room and surprised hers once or twice. Grace’s parents kissed often.

Maybe it was because they hadn’t been married very long. She thought that could mean she would have another brother or sister soon, but she wasn’t sure. She needed to ask more questions about exactly how that happened. She kept meaning to, but then she would become distracted by something else.

She glanced down again at the picture she was drawing and ran her finger along the edge of the page.

“Whatcha working on Gracie?”

“A picture.”

“Huh.” Gabe sat down beside her. “Don’t usually see you drawing before school.”

“Grace said she had a dream about this picture. Said this one was bothering her, so she wanted to get up early and finish it.” Miriam brought the cereal to the table and set out brown sugar and raisins along with the bowls.

But she didn’t sit down. Instead, she stood behind Grace’s chair, studying the drawing that Gabe and Grace were both looking at.

Grace had done her best to put everything on the page that had disturbed her, but she wasn’t sure she had caught it all. She wasn’t sure how to put into words the dream she couldn’t quite remember—it danced and teased at the edge of her memory.

But Grace was focused on the picture as a whole, not the smaller details. The details to her were like stitches in a quilt…she was concerned about getting the overall scene correct, and she wasn’t sure she had.

It was her
dat
who placed his finger on the important detail. He set his
kaffi
mug down, leaned forward, and tapped the sheet. “Grace, who is this person in the woods?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You drew this on Saturday?”

“
Ya
. When we were there helping. After I’d done the drawing Aaron chose for the postcard. I’d run off to watch the river, to look for flying squirrels…and that was when the light and the shadows in the woods caught my attention. I decided to draw one more scene, but I didn’t like this one. It was too…”

“Spooky?” Miriam asked.

“I guess.”

“Could this be Aaron?” Gabe now pulled the drawing in front of him and studied it more closely.

“
Nein
,” Miriam said. “I walked up as soon as Grace skipped away. They were talking about how much they liked the porch drawing, and then Aaron went back to work on the shed. He continued working on it until we went home.”

“Seth?” Gabe asked.

“He left right after Grace went down to the river,” Miriam said softly. “We were talking about how the drawing of the porch would work nicely for the postcard. He said he needed to be home to finish his chores.”

Grace again leaned forward and touched the drawing. “For a few
minutes I walked along the path Aaron is making. It runs next to the river. This person I saw was peering out from the woods. Kind of watching us.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone, Grace?” Miriam reached for Rachel, who had begun to fuss.

“I was going to, but then he disappeared.”

She felt more than saw her parents exchange a look of concern. Instead of frightening her, it made her feel better. Maybe she wasn’t
narrisch
after all. Maybe her dream had been a warning.

“Can you describe him, Grace?” Gabe handed the tablet back. “All I can tell from this is that it was an Amish male. Could have been a boy or a man.”

“I couldn’t tell much, either. He didn’t have a beard…I don’t think. But he was too far in the woods to see much more. I don’t even know if he was Amish. I didn’t see him that well. That’s why you only see his eyes looking out from the trees.”

“Okay. Probably it’s nothing, but we should let Aaron know that he might have someone watching the cabins. I’ll drive over there after breakfast. Do you mind if I take your tablet?”

Grace shook her head. She’d actually be happy to tear that picture out. She didn’t want it anymore. Breakfast tasted
gut
now that she’d shared her worries with her family. Maybe the day would go better than her dream seemed to suggest.