A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series) (20 page)

The drawing on the bottom half of the paper looked like a crazy patchwork quilt of Ammann’s life, struggles, and kindnesses. At least
that was what she had aimed to draw. Jakob was in the bottom right-hand corner, washing the feet of one of the men in his congregation. Hans Reist and the other Mennonites in Switzerland whom Jakob had put under the ban stood behind him, a look of disapproval on their face, and the snowcapped Swiss Alps towered over them.

Stretching toward the left of Jakob was a long line of Amish folk, leading the way to America. The line stretched across the ocean and to Pennsylvania. Above this portion of the picture was a light outline of their Bible, their German Bible. Grace had hoped the half-page sketch would show the connection between their present and their past.

The story of Jakob Ammann had captivated her, and she’d tried to include all she’d heard, all she’d learned on that half sheet of paper. She’d worked hard to pencil it into the five-by-eight-inch space. She wasn’t sure if she’d done well or made a mess of things.

It had never occurred to her that she should have written that last half page.

Miss Bena sighed and closed the folder holding their reports. “You may go.”

“Yes, Miss Bena.”

Grace fled to the playground.

Sadie and Lily jumped from the swings to meet her.

“Were you in trouble?” Sadie pulled her out into the sunshine.

“Did she holler?” Lily’s eyes widened in horror.

“Miss Bena never hollers.” Sadie plopped down in the grass. “She doesn’t need to holler. She stares at you, with those eyes, until you feel like a field mouse caught in a cat’s paws.”

“She didn’t holler, and she didn’t stare overly much.” Grace crossed her legs so that her dress made a tent over her lap, then she fell back into the grass. The sun felt warm and yellow on her face. It felt like honey, and baby Rachel, and Hunter all in one.

“What’d she say, then?” Sadie reached over and tickled her nose with a blade of grass. “No sleeping. Tell us what happened.”

Grace opened her eyes and stared up at her
freinden
. “She
questioned me about my paper, about why I drew part of it instead of writing—”

“Is that when she hollered?” Lily’s light eyebrows shot up.

“No. She frowned more—”

“More?”

“And then she stuck the paper back into her folder. Maybe I’ll still pass.”

“Maybe you won’t.” Sadie looked worried.

“Maybe you should offer to rewrite it.” Lily tried to catch a butterfly in her hand. “I’d rather rewrite it than fail. If I didn’t pass, my
dat
would have me doing extra chores all summer. The chores I have are bad enough.”

Grace wondered what her
mamm
and
dat
would do if she received a poor grade. Of course, she wouldn’t fail the year, only the paper. Her grades were
gut
and could survive one failing paper. Plus, she had the sneaking feeling her parents didn’t approve of Miss Bena, though they had never actually said anything out loud to make her think that.

It was more the looks they exchanged when they thought she wasn’t looking.

Sadie reached a hand out and tapped her, calling “Tag, you’re it” before darting off across the school yard.

Grace would have been happy lying in the sun, but she did not like being “it,” so she stood, dusted the grass off her dress, and took off running after her
freind
. Soon everyone not playing baseball was playing tag, which ended up being at least a dozen kids. By the time Miss Bena rang the bell, Grace was out of breath but ready to go back inside and sit until the afternoon break.

She walked past Miss Bena’s disapproving gaze, careful to put her hand over the grass stain on her apron. But Miss Bena’s attention was on the boys who were late lining up to return for lessons.

One student’s misfortune was sometimes another student’s good luck. That wasn’t a morning proverb, but it could be.

As Grace slid into her desk and stared out the window, she
noticed that Pebble Creek was still running quickly, but the water level seemed to be going down. Maybe Lydia and Aaron had been able to make progress at the cabins.

She hoped so. She wanted to go back to draw them when there were lots of people sitting on the porches and playing on the lawn. Maybe she’d even see someone fly-fishing. She and her
dat
had been riding into Cashton last year when they had seen a man doing that very thing along the river. They had pulled over and stopped to watch for a few minutes, but she hadn’t had her drawing tablet with her.

The way the man had flicked his wrist and sent the line into the air in an
S
curve had amazed her. The sunlight had sparkled off the water, and the fish had practically jumped on to his hook. Oh, how she’d like to draw a picture of that.

“Grace Miller, are you going to complete your math, or are you going to stare out the window this afternoon?”

Luke Lapp snickered behind her, but he kept his head down.

Grace pulled out her tablet and quickly began copying down the arithmetic problems from the board. When her
mamm
had been teacher, they’d had story time after lunch, but Miss Bena had switched that along with a lot of other things.

Arithmetic on a full stomach wasn’t a smart idea in Grace’s opinion, but then no one was paying her to teach a classroom full of students.
Gut
thing too, or she’d probably stick to the three
D
’s—Drawing, Doodling, and Daydreaming.

The idea at least helped her to smile as she worked out the math problems and fought hard not to squirm under Miss Bena’s occasional glare.

Chapter 17

A
aron was perched precariously on top of the roof of cabin four when he glanced over the edge and saw Gabe pulling into the parking area of the Plain Cabins.

Looking down brought on the dizziness, but seeing Gabe added relief to the nausea.

The morning had gone all right. He’d left first thing and gone to town to receive the money transfer his father had sent. Yesterday they had talked on the phone, though he’d had to call the phone shack in Indiana three times to catch his
dat
. Aaron was relieved when his
dat
agreed that he’d made the right decision and that the money they were investing would be well spent. If the cabins became more successful, Elizabeth and the girls would be able to stay. If they didn’t draw more customers, the updates would make the property more attractive to a prospective buyer.

Everything had been moving along at a great clip until about an hour ago, until he’d decided to tackle the roof repairs. Now he was trying to patch the area where the roof was leaking, and he had no idea what he was doing.

Add to that his current predicament—a fear of heights. As if he didn’t have enough to contend with this morning.

Gabe draped Chance’s reins around a hitching post and walked over to stare up at him.

“Do you know what you’re doing up there?”

“
Nein
.”

“Could you use a hand?”

“I could use two.”

Gabe climbed the ladder and immediately began laughing. “You’ve everything up here but the kitchen sink.”

“I couldn’t carry the kitchen sink.”

“Never repaired a roof before?”

“I’m a farmer.”

“Farmers live in homes too.” Gabe climbed easily over the top of the ladder, as if they weren’t dangerously high off the ground, and walked across the roof toward him.

“Is there a reason you’re sitting in the middle of the roof, when the damage seems to be over in that corner?”

Aaron licked his lips, placed both hands beside him against the warm shingles, and reminded himself
not
to look down. “Could be I’m somewhat afraid of heights.”

Gabe’s laughter rang out so good-naturedly, Aaron couldn’t for a minute believe there was an ounce of malice in it. Besides, he was too ill to care.

“Haven’t I seen you climbing ladders to trim those trees?” Gabe dropped down beside him.

“
Ya
, suppose so.”

“How did you manage that?”

“Trees don’t bother me. They seem firmer. Grounded somehow. Plus if I’m angry, sometimes I forget to be afraid for a moment.” He peered over the edge and sweat popped out on his forehead like grease on a hot skillet. “The day you’re remembering, I was so upset about the condition of this place, I didn’t think at first. Once I’d reached the top of the ladder, I realized how high up I was. That’s when the ladder tilted and I grabbed for the tree.”

He stared down at his hands, slick with sweat. “Makes me nervous all over, thinking about it.”

Gabe stood and stretched in the sun, reminding Aaron of Pumpkin—a mouser they had recently inherited at the office. “Look on the bright side. This roof isn’t so tall. If you fell off, I doubt you’d do much more than break a leg.”

Accepting the hammer Aaron offered him, he snagged the correct box of nails and reached for the roofing shingles. “You’re a boy no longer, Aaron. Roofing is part of being a man. Part of owning a home.”

“I’m twenty-three and unmarried, in case you haven’t noticed. I live with my parents.”

“Not anymore you don’t.” Gabe’s hammering halted all conversation, and in fifteen minutes the patch was complete. Though Gabe did most of the work, Aaron handed him supplies. He was surprised to find that while they were working there was a time that he forgot to be worried about falling. His stomach didn’t even roll until they began gathering the supplies to carry down.

“How’d you bring all this up here?”

“Wasn’t easy.”

“Why did you bring all this up here?”

“Didn’t know what I’d need.”

They both turned and studied the roof patch. Aaron’s previous attempt looked like something a child would have done. Gabe’s shingles were laid down like stitches Aaron’s mother might have sewn on a quilt—even, uniform, and without a pucker.

“Snug. Shouldn’t leak now.”

“Say, can I hire you to be my roof man? If you’re free…”

Gabe slid the hammer and nails into the toolbox, squinted out across the property, and then nodded. “Today I am. You have other cabins that are leaking?”

“Cabins one and seven.”

“Got it. While I’m doing that, you might want to unload my buggy. Miriam thought we should get started on picking up the Amish-made goods you wanted.”

“Did you have any success?”

“Put it this way. You might want to ask Lydia to help you.”