The Amish Teacher's Dilemma and Healing Their Amish Hearts by Patricia Davids (best chinese ebook reader TXT) 📗

Trying to ignore her wet clothes and the hair that was straggling from under her kapp, Lydia fell in behind them, and they were off.

The snow kept on coming down, but with another buggy to follow, she realized that both she and Dolly felt more comfortable. In another ten minutes they’d reached the coffee shop, driving down the alley alongside to the shed where the horses could be safe and comfortable.

Lydia had Dolly taken care of quickly, and as she moved past Enos’s buggy, she spotted something she hadn’t before. Or rather, someone. A little girl, bundled up in a winter jacket and mittens, snuggled under a carriage robe in the back seat. Simon’s little girl, she’d guess.

She stopped next to the buggy, smiling. “Hello. I’m Lydia. What’s your name?”

Wide blue eyes stared at her from a small, pale face. Then the child turned and buried her face in the seat.

Before Lydia could come up with a word, Simon appeared next to her. “Her name is Becky. She doesn’t like to talk to strangers.”

The words could have been said in a variety of ways—excusing the child or expressing encouragement to her and thanks for Lydia’s interest. Instead Simon made it sound as if she were at fault for intruding, and his disapproving expression forbade her from trying again.

The imp of mischief that never failed to lead her into something she shouldn’t do suddenly came to life, and she responded with a cheerful smile.

“I just thought Becky might like to have a mug of hot chocolate to warm her up. I’m going to have one. What do you think, Becky?”

Simon’s displeasure loomed over her, but she focused on the child, holding her hand out and smiling. For an instant she thought it was no good. But then a small hand found its way to hers, and she lifted the little girl to the ground. Hand in hand they headed for the door, and Lydia knew without looking that Simon was still frowning.

Simon watched them walk away, not sure whether he was pleased or annoyed. Of course he was happy to see his shy daughter willing to reach out to someone in what was a strange place to her, if not to him. But if she was ready to warm up to someone, did it have to be Lydia Stoltzfus?

He remembered Lydia. The pesky little kid next door, she’d been twice as much trouble as any of his younger siblings. She’d been an expert at leading the others into mischief, but she’d always come up smiling, no matter what. Everything had been a game to her.

Following them into Great-aunt Elizabeth’s shop, he reminded himself that she was an adult now, but he wasn’t quite convinced. Not when his first glimpse had been of her sprawled face down in the snow at the side of the road.

Aunt Elizabeth rushed to greet him, and he forgot Lydia in the warmth of her welcome. It had been too long, he thought. Too long since he’d been surrounded by people of his own blood, tied to him by unbreakable bonds of kinship. He and Rebecca had made good friends out west, but with her loss the longing had grown in him to return to Lost Creek, back where he could raise his daughter in the midst of family to love and care for them.

When he finally emerged from the hugs and exclamations, it was to find Becky installed at a table near the counter, with a mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream in front of her. With Lydia’s help, she seemed to be trying to decide between a cruller and one of Aunt Elizabeth’s cream horns.

“I think you’d like this one,” he told her, pointing to the cream horn. “Aunt Bess fills the whole thing with yummy cream.” His old name for his much-loved great-aunt came automatically to his lips.

Becky looked at him, then seemed to look at Lydia for approval. When she smiled and nodded, Becky’s hand clasped the cream horn, squirting out cream as she put it on her plate. She seemed confused for a moment, and then she carefully licked the cream off her fingers. Something in him eased at Becky’s enjoyment, and his gaze met Lydia’s for an instant of shared pleasure that startled him.

“Ach, this is our little Becky.” Aunt Bess beamed down at the child. “Lydia is taking gut care of you, ain’t so? She takes care of everybody, even me.”

Before he could wrap his mind around this unexpected relationship between Aunt Bess and Lydia, the older woman surged on. “Lyddy, why don’t you show Simon the extra storeroom? He’s going to put some things there until his new house is ready.”

Lydia, busily putting mugs of coffee on the table, looked up and nodded, while Simon’s daad sat down next to Becky with every appearance of settling in for a bit. Before Simon quite knew what had happened, Lydia was leading him behind the counter to the cluster of rooms that made up the back of the building.

“I don’t want to take you away from your work,” he said. “This could wait.”

Lydia shook her head. “Don’t you remember? It’s always best to listen to what Aunt Bess says. Otherwise she’ll just keep after you and after you.”

He couldn’t help smiling at the accurate description of his great-aunt. “From what she said, it sounds as if she must listen to you. What did she mean about you taking care of her?”

“Ach, that’s nothing.” A flush that reminded him of peaches came up in Lydia’s creamy cheeks. “She had a bad bout with pneumonia this winter, and since she insisted on staying in her apartment upstairs, everyone had to gang up on her to keep her out of the shop. That’s all.”

She opened one of the doors off the kitchen. “Here’s the room she was talking about. We didn’t know what you might need, so I just cleaned it out and left it empty.”

A quick glance told him there