A Life of Joy (25 page)

Katie sat on the porch steps and shook her head. “I got a short letter from her. I’m going to write her back tonight.”

He glanced toward the pasture, and Katie thought about their mutual friends.

“Has Matthew mentioned her?” she asked.

“No, not to me.” Sam gave her a suspicious expression. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know,” she said quickly. “No reason.”

“How’s Lizzie Anne?” he asked, leaning on the railing.

“I don’t know.” She grinned. “Why do you ask?”

He smirked. “No reason.”

She laughed, thinking that her brother should ask Lizzie Anne directly how she was. “You need to be braver with Lizzie Anne. You might surprise yourself.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.” She stood and started toward the house. “I need to go finish up in the kitchen.”

He walked in the direction of the barn. “See you later.”

Finding the kitchen empty, Katie headed upstairs to the room she shared with Nancy. Voices echoed down the hall, and Katie assumed Nancy was helping the younger siblings with their baths.

Katie opened her nightstand drawer and pulled out a pad of stationery and a pen. Propping herself up on her pillows, she began to write a letter to her best friend. As she wrote, she hoped Lindsay would find the letter an inspiration to come home to Lancaster County soon.

Rebecca climbed into bed next to Daniel, who was reading his Bible. “What are you reading?”

“Proverbs,” he said without glancing up. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.”

She listened to his words, thinking of Lindsay and how much she missed her. She felt eyes studying her and looked up into his smile.

“That verse touched you, ya?” He closed the Bible and placed it on the nightstand beside him.

“The Word has a way of speaking to us,” she said, placing her hand on his arm. “Did you send Elizabeth and Katie over to check on me?”

“
Ya
, I did,” he said. “I didn’t actually send them over, but I called my
mamm
and told her I was concerned about you.”

“Katie wants to come and help me. Elizabeth gave her permission to stop working at the bakery since she hired more help. Do you think I should let Katie come work for me?”

“I think that’s a very
gut
idea,” he said, moving his hand over
hers. “You look like you could use some help. You’re so tired all the time. I worry about you. This pregnancy seems to be much harder on you.”

She blew out a defeated sigh. “
Ya
, I think you’re right, and I think I do need the help. I’ll call Sadie tomorrow and ask her if Katie can start Monday.”

“Gut.”
Daniel gave her a suspicious expression. “Did you tell my
mamm
about the baby?”

“Ya,”
Rebecca answered. “I felt that she needed to know. Are you angry?”

He smiled and shook his head. “No, I’m not. I had a feeling that you told her since she seemed to understand my concern very quickly today.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.
“Gut nacht.”

“Gut nacht,”
she said, snuggling under the sheet. As she fell asleep, the verse echoed through her mind, like a gentle reminder of God’s love and protection.

14

“W
e’re still going to church, right?” Lindsay asked with a smile while standing in the doorway to Trisha’s room Sunday morning.

Trisha looked up from the magazine she was perusing while sitting on the bed. “Yes, I want to go, but I was just trying to get motivated. I’m not very excited about trying to hobble around in public.”

“You’ll be fine.” Lindsay grinned. “We can bring your wheelchair, so it’s easier for you to get around. I’ll even push you gently and not send you racing down a steep hill into oncoming traffic,” she added, hoping the humor would lighten the mood.

Trisha laughed. “That’s a deal.” She placed the magazine next to her on the bed and glanced toward her closet. “I’ll have to figure out something to wear.”

Lindsay moved to the closet and opened the door. Fishing through, she pulled out a light purple sundress and held it up. “How about this? It will be easy for you to get into.”

Trisha nodded. “That works. You’re welcome to borrow anything in my closet if it strikes your fancy.”

“Oh, no thank you,” Lindsay said, glancing down at her denim jumper. “I’m comfortable in this.”

“That’s fine.” Trisha smiled. “I just want you to be comfortable. I don’t mean to force anything on you.”

“Do you want me to help you get dressed?” Lindsay offered.

“Sure.” Trisha frowned. “I’m so tired of being waited on.”

The bathroom door opened, revealing Frank dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt. His dark hair was still wet from his shower. He looked between the two women. “What’s going on here?”

“Church,” Trisha said.

“Oh good,” Frank said. “I was hoping you’d still want to go.”

Lindsay smiled. “Let’s get ready. It’s almost time to leave.”

Forty-five minutes later, Frank steered the Suburban into the parking lot at the Beach Community Church. Lindsay gripped the door handle and stared at the sprawling brick building. The tall steeple and large wooden doors brought back memories of the Sundays spent there with her parents and sister. She glanced around at the sea of cars and wondered if any of her old friends would be there and if they would recognize her.

“Well, Lindsay-girl,” Frank began, “I’ll get the wheelchair, and you help the cripple out.”

“Hey!” Trisha protested. “That’s not nice.”

Lindsay snickered to herself. Frank and Trisha’s banter reminded her of her parents, who often teased and laughed together.

Lindsay hopped out of the backseat and opened Trisha’s door. She then took Trisha’s hand and helped her turn her body toward the door.

“I can’t wait to start physical therapy,” Trisha muttered while grimacing. “I’m so over this.”

Lindsay smiled. “I’m sure you are.”

“Even crutches would be nice,” Trisha said. “I’d like to give the crutches a try.”

“Why don’t we try them this coming week?” Lindsay asked.

“Okay,” Trisha said. “Why not?”

The tailgate slammed, and Frank appeared with the wheelchair.
“Enough gabbing, ladies. All right, Princess Trisha, let’s get you into your royal chair.”

Lindsay stepped away from the truck, and Frank lifted Trisha with ease and deposited her into the wheelchair. After adjusting the height of the leg supports, he pushed the chair forward. Lindsay fell into step with him as they started toward the front door. She held the door open, and Frank pushed Trisha into the foyer, where they were greeted by a couple who recognized Trisha and Frank. The woman looked familiar, but Lindsay couldn’t remember her name. However, she remembered her mother frequently talked with the woman at services, and Lindsay had also seen the woman in the Sunday school rooms.

Lindsay stood by and was happy to be anonymous for the time being while they discussed Frank’s business, the economy, and Trisha’s broken leg.

The familiar woman, who looked about forty with graying brown hair, studied Lindsay, and her eyes widened. “I can’t believe it,” she said, covering her mouth. “You’re Grace Bedford’s daughter.”

Trisha took Lindsay’s hand and squeezed it. “Yes. This is Lindsay. She’s visiting for the summer from Pennsylvania to help me with my predicament. We’re so happy to have her here.”

“I can’t believe it,” the woman repeated. She then pulled Lindsay into a tight hug, causing her to gasp for breath.

“I think of your parents all the time,” the woman continued. “I enjoyed talking with your mom at services, and I’ve wondered how you and your sister are.” She then turned toward a crowd behind her. “Wanda! Luann!” she called across the foyer. “Come here and see Lindsay Bedford, Grace’s daughter. She’s visiting for the summer.”

Lindsay forced a smile onto her face while a group of women gathered around her and discussed how much she looked like her mother, how much they missed her parents, and how
wonderful it was to see her. She breathed a sigh of relief when Frank interrupted the group.

“Let’s go find a seat,” Frank said. “We can visit after the service.” He then addressed the crowd of curious women. “It was nice seeing you again.”

Lindsay followed Frank into the sanctuary where they took a seat in the back row, pushing the wheelchair to the end of the aisle.

Lindsay sat next to Frank. “Thank you for saving me.”

He grinned while opening his bulletin. “You’re welcome. People are happy you’re back, so be prepared for a mob after the service. Next week should be easier after they get over the surprise of seeing you here with us again.”

Lindsay glanced around the sanctuary while memories emerged in her mind. She had spent the first fourteen years of her life worshiping with this congregation, including the weekly services, the Christmases, the Easters, and the most devastating event of her life—her parents’ memorial service.

The images of that day assaulted her mind, and Lindsay turned her gaze to the bulletin in her hand and studied it in an effort to block out those horrible memories.

How strange it felt to use a bulletin for a service again. She’d become accustomed to the Amish way of worshiping, during which services were held in the home or barn of a member every other week. There was neither an altar nor flowers in the Amish church tradition. No instruments were played during the hymns. Lindsay looked up at the large stained glass cross hanging over the pulpit and felt as if she’d stepped back into her former life attending a service in a church.

The organ sounded, and the voices swirling around Lindsay faded to a murmur as if on cue. The knot of people loitering in the aisle filed into pews, and Lindsay glanced up as vaguely familiar faces stopped to greet Frank and Trisha.

When the music stopped and the pastor took his place in the
pulpit, Lindsay lost herself in thoughts of Lancaster County. She missed hearing the Pennsylvania
Dietsch
and German during the services at home.

The congregation stood and sang a hymn, and Lindsay stood silently while the rest of the congregation sang.

Once the hymn was over, the congregation sat and a reader approached the pulpit and read aloud the lessons for the day. Lindsay held her breath in order to hold back her threatening tears and concentrated instead on taking in God’s Word. One verse in Psalm 62 struck a chord in her: “Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.”

The verse echoed through her mind while the reader finished the lessons, and it continued to float through her thoughts during Pastor Lane’s sermon. She had always enjoyed listening to the pastor for as long as she could remember. He was a friendly man, whom she guessed was in his mid-forties, and he had a kind face and warm brown eyes. He and his wife had a son, Taylor, who was the same age as Lindsay. Taylor had always been friendly to Lindsay, going out of his way to talk to her during Sunday school and youth events.

Lindsay went through the motions for the remainder of the service, singing the hymns, partaking in Communion, and reciting the prayers.

When the service ended, Lindsay found herself blocked in the pew by a crowd of people who were hugging her and talking with Trisha and Frank.

Lindsay smiled and shook the hands that were extended to her, doing her best to remember the familiar faces. When she heard someone call her name, she searched the sea of faces surrounding her until she spotted Taylor, waving and grinning.

She waved back and then excused herself and moved through the knot of people until she reached him. Taylor looked just as she remembered. He resembled his father with his kind face
and big brown eyes, but he had grown, towering over her mere five-foot-five height by at least six inches.

“Lindsay Bedford,” Taylor said. “It’s been like a million years.”

She held out her hand. “It’s so good to see you.”

He shook his head and opened his arms. “Don’t I get a hug from my old friend?”