The Redemption of Sarah Cain (14 page)

Hurrying downstairs, she thought it was just as well that Aunt Sarah was settling into Mamma’s old room. It was the respectful thing to do.

Downstairs, she found Hannah propped up with even more pillows as she sat on the sofa. Only now Caleb was telling her a story, and Josiah and Anna Mae listened, too. The children seemed positively engrossed, and Lydia wondered what in the world he was saying.

‘‘A huge billy goat just a-chased me all the way home from school that day,’’ Caleb said, his voice lowered, making it sound ever so eerie.

‘‘What happened after that, when you got home?’’ Josiah asked.

‘‘Jah,’’ asked Hannah. ‘‘Were ya safe and sound, or did the billy goat come chargin’ after ya, right up the porch steps and into the house?’’

Caleb chuckled good-naturedly, but Lydia didn’t wait for her brother’s reply. Glad that the older children were entertaining their suffering little sister, she headed for the kitchen. Mamma had taught her young ones well.

She washed her hands thoroughly before taking the frozen soup out of the freezer. Then she lit the front burner on the old gas stove, humming softly to herself. She could hardly wait to heat up and serve the honest-to-goodness best potato soup Sarah Cain had prob’ly ever tasted. She hoped it might be taken as a thoughtful gesture to lay out a nice hot supper for their aunt, who’d come such an awful long ways.

With all her heart, Lydia hoped the evening would go off without a hitch. At least as well as things had gone thus far, ’cept for one thing that bothered her. Mamma’s sister hadn’t uttered a single word about stayin’ here or takin’ the whole bunch to Oregon. Neither one.

Chapter Eleven

W
ithout question, Ivy must have gotten a certain vengeful pleasure out of joining the ranks of the Plain years back. Of this, Sarah was absolutely certain as she placed her portable computer on the wooden chest at the foot of the bed. Skeptically, she surveyed the sparsely furnished room, pacing the plank floor as she did.

The nondescript bed was smaller than any double bed she had ever seen. It stood against barren gray walls, unrelieved by not so much as a single painting, although a picturesque calendar hung near the radiator across from a walnut highboy.

It was a large room, spacious enough for a small brown sofa, a three-drawer dresser, the tall bureau, and a wooden blanket chest at the foot of the bed. The only chair in the entire room was a straight-backed cane. As for a rug, there was a single oval rag rug positioned near the bed, but only on one side. The bed was festooned with an old quilt, whose colors did not coordinate in the least.

Pondering her situation anew, Sarah attempted to freshen up for supper in this poor excuse for a room. In her moment of displeasure, she supposed she ought to offer to assist young Lydia with whatever supper plans the girl had in mind. But the mirror over Ivy’s dresser drooped so low on the wall, she had to bend her knees and hunch down to see the sum total of her head. She brushed her hair, peering forward and noting that the mirror was chipped on one side.

No wonder Ivy had had such trouble in life
, she thought, staring at the crack.

Yet, there was no arguing one fact: Her sister had raised some remarkable kids. Courteous, even thoughtful. But she wouldn’t let their good manners influence her. Sarah envisioned the plan she had conceived in her mind, and with less than a week to go, she didn’t have any time to waste.

‘‘Pass the crackers and cheese,’’ Caleb said after the silent suppertime prayer.

Please
, thought Sarah, who made the interesting observation that Ivy’s children were far less polite at the table. Not a single ‘‘please’’ or ‘‘thank-you’’ was sprinkled into the conversation at any juncture. She thought this quite odd as she dipped her spoon into the plastic soup bowl.

‘‘This soup’s from scratch,’’ Lydia offered, glancing up, her lovely eyes gleaming. ‘‘Hope you like it.’’

Scratch . . .

‘‘Oh yes,’’ Sarah replied. ‘‘Thank you, it’s delicious.’’

Caleb and Josiah, across the table, were busy crushing a wad of crackers into their bowls, sprinkling crumbs about.

Lydia must’ve caught her staring. ‘‘My brothers take after our father, I’m afraid.’’

‘‘Dat liked a little soup with his crackers,’’ Josiah explained.

The boy’s comment brought sidesplitting laughter from Hannah, who, now that Sarah looked at her, appeared to be completely recovered from her head bump.

Hesitant to interject, she wished the children would eat more quietly—
all
of them—including Lydia. The smacking of lips and even occasional belching was nearly more than she could endure. But being a guest in this house, and this the first night of such venture, no less, made her reluctant to speak up. There
was
, however, something she was determined to discuss over the rather insubstantial meal, but it might be better if she postponed the topic until dessert.

‘‘Preacher Esh said he might be droppin’ in on us sometime this week,’’ Caleb spoke up.

‘‘Is that right?’’ replied Lydia, looking somewhat surprised.

‘‘He’s worried, prob’ly,’’ Josiah added.

‘‘About
us
?’’ asked Lydia.

Anna Mae was nodding her head up and down, as if she might not stop unless asked to. Then she said, ‘‘Susie Lapp’s just as fretful, I’m thinkin’.’’

Susie Lapp . . .

Sarah’s ears perked up. She clearly recognized the name of Ivy’s close friend.

‘‘Now, why on earth wouldja say such a thing—that Susie’s frettin’ over us?’’ Caleb said, making strange twitching movements with his eyes.

Lydia intervened, and not too soon, it seemed. ‘‘Well, nobody need be worryin’ any longer.’’ Her voice was confident and strong as Ivy’s ever was. ‘‘Look here who’s sittin’ at our table tonight.’’ Lydia didn’t wait for the younger children to acknowledge what she meant. She continued. ‘‘Seems to me we’ve got right here exactly what Mamma was wantin’ for us.’’

‘‘Are ya sayin’ if Preacher Esh stops by, we’ll just hafta set his mind at ease?’’ Josiah asked, trying to avoid Sarah’s gaze.

‘‘You heard me right,’’ Lydia answered. ‘‘Everything’s just fine now. Aunt Sarah is here. And besides, Susie’s most likely comin’ to sort through Mamma’s clothes and things.’’

‘‘Ain’t that Aunt Sarah’s job?’’ Hannah asked, eyes bright.

‘‘Jah, but I’m sure she could use some help,’’ Lydia replied, glancing at Sarah, then lowering her eyes to look down at her soup bowl.

Sighing inconspicuously, Sarah thought now was as good a time as any to express herself. ‘‘Children . . . I would like to say something, if I may.’’

As if connected—in unison—all five heads turned to focus on her.

‘‘I realize this is not the most ideal situation,’’ she began. ‘‘It must be quite puzzling to you why your mother should have wanted me, a non-Amish woman, for your guardian.’’

Anna Mae was the only child whose head was bobbing in affirmation. The others wore the most serious facial expressions, as if they questioned their deceased mother’s judgment.

The silence was as thick as blackstrap molasses.

Lydia was first to speak. ‘‘Whatever Mamma chose is the best thing for us. We know that.’’

Little Hannah joined Anna Mae in nodding her head, brown eyes trusting and wide. ‘‘But we hope ’n pray that we won’t hafta leave here and go way out to Oregon to live.’’

‘‘Hannah, please . . . not now,’’ Lydia scolded. ‘‘That’s Aunt Sarah’s choice to make for us.’’

Sarah regarded the children’s responses, the hopeful expressions on each face. It occurred to her that they had no idea she had not come to stay permanently. Tonight wasn’t the time to reveal her plan. ‘‘One of you mentioned that Mrs. Lapp might visit this week,’’ she said. ‘‘Tell me more about that.’’

‘‘Jah, Susie
said
she would come sort through Mamma’s clothes,’’ Anna Mae insisted, looking wholly sincere. So much so that Sarah felt a twinge of regret for having disregarded Lydia.

But before Sarah could backtrack, Caleb defended his sister. ‘‘If Susie Lapp says she’s coming, you can count on her showin’ up.’’

Sarah saw her opportunity again. ‘‘And what day might that be?’’

‘‘Prob’ly Tuesday or Wednesday,’’ Lydia said.

‘‘Where does she live?’’ Sarah asked.

‘‘Not far from here, over on Rohrer’s Mill Road.’’

‘‘I’d like to see her as soon as possible. If you could give her a call, Lydia, ask if it would suit for me to visit her tomorrow.’’

‘‘Tomorrow?’’ Lydia looked fairly bewildered.

‘‘If it’s convenient.’’

‘‘It won’t suit Monday. I’m sure of it.’’

‘‘Why is that?’’

‘‘Susie’s busy with washing and ironing just like all the rest of us. Mondays aren’t a gut visitin’ day ’round here.’’

‘‘I see.’’ Sarah wouldn’t query further. On either Tuesday or Wednesday, she would definitely be on hand to explore her idea with the illustrious Mrs. Lapp.

‘‘Susie Lapp is known to have a biting tongue sometimes,’’ Caleb said, his eyes earnest.

‘‘But she’s awful nice, too,’’ little Hannah put in.

‘‘None of us are perfect,’’ Lydia offered. ‘‘The main thing is, Susie was Mamma’s dearest friend.’’

The words jabbed her soul. ‘‘I’ve heard many good things about the woman.’’

Caleb frowned. ‘‘How’s that?’’

She breathed deeply, attempting to remain calm. ‘‘Your mother mentioned Mrs. Lapp often in her letters.’’

‘‘Then you prob’ly know that Susie is the grandmother of
my
best friend,’’ Lydia said. ‘‘Maybe Fannie Flaud will come along, too, when Susie visits. That would be awful nice.’’

Ivy had never made mention of Fannie Flaud in her letters. Sarah only knew that Susie Lapp had numerous children and grandchildren. Ivy had never given specific information about the woman who had been her confidante through the years.

‘‘I’ll look forward to meeting both Susie
and
Fannie,’’ Sarah said. In all actuality, she thought it might be ideal that she make their acquaintance sooner rather than later.

Lydia hurried to the refrigerator and took out two desserts— a large bowl of soda cracker pudding and a coconut custard pie. Cutting the pie into equal parts, she considered the peculiar way Aunt Sarah had of stating things. ’Specially the way she said
your mother
this and
your mother
that. Why didn’t she just come right out and say ‘‘my sister’’? It made for a taut feeling in Lydia’s stomach.

Mamma would’ve wanted her to keep her peace and not cause strife amongst family members. Sarah Cain certainly was family. No gettin’ around it. The tall woman was every whit Mamma’s sister. Lydia could see it in the way Sarah’s eyebrows sometimes arched unexpectedly, the way she had first walked into the house—how she’d held herself upright, like she had not a speck of worry ’bout coming into a strange household, meetin’ relatives she’d never laid eyes on before. Little things like that brought Mamma’s image flyin’ right back.

The lump in her throat seemed to block the air, but Lydia carried the dessert dishes to the table without speaking, setting them down nearest her aunt’s plate. How on earth could she suffer through the rest of her
Maedel
days with this constant living reminder of dear, dear Mamma before her?

All she could think of was the next chance she might be alone in her room, pouring out her thoughts onto her journal pages. Later tonight she would do just that, for she feared if she did not somehow release the mounting pressure inside, she might say or do something she would long regret.