A Heart Once Broken (3 page)

Lydia opened the stair door and glanced up the steps. Only silence greeted her, so
Mamm
must have finished the Saturday cleaning and was no longer upstairs. Had
Mamm
gone outside? Maybe she was in the garden? But that was unlike her on a Saturday evening. Lydia closed the door but paused to listen. She had heard something—a faint sob coming from the first-floor bedroom. Lydia held her breath as she tiptoed in that direction. Did
Mamm
know why Deacon Schrock was there?

The bedroom door was ajar, and Lydia entered to find
Mamm
seated on the edge of the bed, her face in her hands.

“
Mamm
, what's wrong?” Lydia sat down beside her.

“We're ruined,”
Mamm
whispered.

“Ruined?” Lydia tried to breathe. “Why are we ruined?”

“We just are. That's why Deacon Schrock is here.”
Mamm
stifled a sob.

Lydia gripped
Mamm
's arm. “How can we be ruined?”

Mamm
stared blankly across the room. “
Daett
made some bad business investments and all our savings are gone. He still owes much more than we can ever pay back.”
Mamm
placed her head back in her hands, but the sobs had ceased.

“But
Mamm
.” Lydia slipped her arm around
Mamm
's shoulder. “Deacon Schrock is here to help in our time of trouble. You mustn't let this shame overcome you. Others in the community have had financial problems. It's not like this is—”

Mamm
stopped Lydia with a shake of her head. “Deacon Schrock isn't here to help, not after
Daett
tells him everything.”

“There's shame,
yah
,” Lydia allowed. “But you shouldn't take this so hard. Money isn't everything. You know this.”

Mamm
lifted her face and sat up straight on the bed. “The shame is too great.
Daett
is telling the deacon because he must. I didn't want him to, but I know that's not possible. Not if we're to get support from the church, which we must. We can't go bankrupt. That would bring an even greater shame on the community.”

“I still don't understand,” Lydia said. “But then what do I know about money?”

“Thank the Lord you don't,”
Mamm
whispered. “I have learned so many things the past few weeks that I think my hair must have all turned white.”

Lydia glanced over at
Mamm
's hair. “Your hair is not white,” she said as she reached over to hug
Mamm
. “It will turn out okay, I'm sure.”

Mamm
didn't look convinced as she got up from the bed, wiped her eyes, and headed toward the kitchen with Lydia following her. Thankfully Emma had begun to hum the Sunday morning praise song by the time they walked in, and
Mamm
joined in the supper preparations as if nothing was wrong.

Lydia returned to working on the new dress she had started that morning. She focused on the pieces of cloth as the foot-pedaled sewing machine hummed under her. Emma and Rhoda had been correct about her interest in Ezra. Her failure to keep Ezra's attention at the youth gathering this week troubled her more than her family's financial problems. Ezra couldn't go on forever in his undecided state. If she wore a new dress this Sunday at the services, it might push him in her direction. Of course, Sandra likely had the same idea. They thought alike in most areas—maddeningly so.

The sewing machine hummed again. This competition was so silly and beneath both of them, Lydia told herself. Maybe the
seriousness of Deacon Schrock's visit would stop some of this foolishness. Sandra would certainly find out about her family's problems—eventually, at least. Maybe she should have a talk with Sandra on Sunday to settle the matter of Ezra between them. But how would they do such a thing? They had never been able to settle even the simplest matter before. Now their competition involved love. You couldn't divide a man's heart, or your own, for that matter. They both couldn't marry Ezra, so one of them would have to back down. But who? She wasn't ready to give in, and she was sure the same was true of Sandra. They both wanted Ezra's hand in marriage. A King Solomon was needed to decide between them, but King Solomon had long ago passed from the earth.

Behind Lydia, Emma and Rhoda burst out of the kitchen and raced upstairs. Moments later they came back with carry-on bags in their hands.

“Have fun tonight working on that dress,” Emma chirped. “'Cause we're sure going to have fun!”

“Behave yourselves,” Lydia chided, but both of them were already out the door. Her sisters had some nerve to set out in their open buggy right in front of Deacon Schrock. She would have waited until Deacon Schrock had left before dashing outside, broadcasting her intentions for the evening. Not that Deacon Schrock disapproved of a
rumspringa
time, but a little discretion was called for. That was a lesson her younger sisters had obviously failed to learn. Lydia laid down the dress with a sigh. She would finish after supper when things had calmed down. Whatever the extent of the problem
Daett
was discussing with Deacon Schrock, his mood wouldn't be improved by his two youngest daughters spiritedly bursting out of the house to set out for a night on the town.

Lydia peeked out of the drapes again. Sure enough,
Daett
still stood with his head bowed as Deacon Schrock glared in the
direction of her sisters.
Daett
made no effort to help Emma and Rhoda as they giggled and hitched Archer, the oldest driving horse, to the open buggy. Emma and Rhoda soon climbed in and drove off, without a backward glance.

Chapter Three

O
n Sunday Sandra Troyer stood with the long line of single girls near the kitchen doorway. Bishop Henry had walked in the front door moments earlier, and the church service was about to begin. Sandra smiled across the room to where the unmarried men were seated. Ezra Wagler returned her smile at once. He appeared extra handsome in his black suit pants and vest this morning. She had noticed Ezra in his new suit several Sundays ago at the fall communion.

Ezra's
mamm
had a firm conviction on how her men should be dressed, and a new suit every year was on her list of family traditions. Today, Ezra's suit had lost none of its shine. And neither had Ezra.
Yah
, she would marry the man someday, Sandra vowed. And why couldn't she? The competition with Lydia had always been a fifty-fifty chance, but she would try her best. Her very best!

Sandra gave Ezra another warm smile as she took her seat with the other girls. Not a crease was out of place on her dark green dress, which she had sewn together yesterday. She had taken extra care this morning on the way to church. Mark, her older brother, had expected her to help hitch his driving horse, Dixie, to the buggy, and
she had obliged him. Thankfully Dixie wasn't like some horses who shed hair for no reason, and Sandra's shawl had served as protection on the drive to church.

“You look pretty this morning,” Mark had commented.

“Thanks. I'm surprised you noticed,” Sandra answered.

“You don't have to wear a new dress every Sunday,” Mark grumbled. “You're
goot
-looking enough in your own right.”

She had beamed at him. “This Sunday is important.”

Mark appeared befuddled, but asked no further questions about why this Sunday was special. But it was. Something big would happen today. How she knew, she wasn't certain. Maybe the humiliation she had suffered last week at the youth workday with her hands all dirt-smeared and her face streaked with mud brought on the feeling.

On the bright side, Ezra hadn't seemed to mind. He had been as friendly as ever, and had spent more time with her than with Lydia, who worked all evening on a fencerow with Rosemary. Maybe her time had arrived, and Ezra would make up his mind.

And even if he didn't, Ezra deserved extra smiles for his consideration last week, and she had given them to him this morning. Ezra had seen her at her worst, and now Ezra was seeing her at her best. The only fly in the ointment was that Lydia must have had the same idea.

As Sandra made herself comfortable on the hard bench, she noticed Lydia sitting half a bench down in a new dark blue dress that appeared as beautiful and well-made as hers. Which wasn't a surprise. They were well-matched in most things. She had the sunny disposition and the gift of gab, while Lydia had the hidden graces, as
Mamm
said. Sandra was impatient, but Lydia seemed to take Ezra's indecision in stride.

Maybe this afternoon Ezra would ask to take her home from the
hymn singing tonight. Sandra clasped and unclasped her hands as the service began. Maybe this final competition with Lydia would even be solved by evening. Lydia would be disappointed, but that couldn't be helped. She, Sandra, was the best match for Ezra. They were the perfect couple. Totally perfect!

Sandra tried to catch Ezra's gaze again, but he was lost in the sea of men seated across the room. Not until she stood at the conclusion of the service did Ezra's smile find hers again. Ezra had smiled at her first this time, Sandra assured herself.
Yah
, something special would happen today. She took a deep breath as the group of girls entered the crowded kitchen, where everyone chattered as they received their assignments on where to help with lunch.

Sandra slipped up to Bishop Henry's
frau
, Lena, and whispered, “I'll take the unmarried men's table.”

Lena smiled but didn't object. She handed Sandra two peanut butter bowls. “That should get you started.”

“Thanks.” Sandra gave Lena a quick smile.

Her interest in Ezra wasn't shameful, Sandra assured herself. Nor was her offer to serve the unmarried men's table. This would give her a chance to speak with Ezra—and the other unmarried men. It couldn't hurt if Ezra was reminded that she had other chances, even if she didn't take them. The newcomer, Clyde from Holmes County, was handsome enough. His
daett
was a widower and had recently moved into the community. Clyde had sent glances her way several times already—glances she had ignored.

Sandra held the peanut butter bowls high as several smaller children looked up hungrily.

“Go find where your
daett
's sitting.” Sandra paused long enough to whisper to them. “He might take you with him to the first table.” Several of them scurried off to follow Sandra's suggestion.

The unmarried men's table was set up in the back bedroom, and
Sandra paused near the door when Bishop Henry's voice called for the first prayer. She bowed her head along with everyone else. When the “Amen” came, Sandra bounced into the room. Several of the men looked up, and one hollered out, “Howdy there, Sandra. At least we have a server today. I thought they'd forgotten about us.”

“You know no one forgets about you, James,” Sandra teased back. “And they wouldn't leave a table full of such handsome young men to suffer hunger.”

Laughter filled the table, and Ezra looked up with a twinkle in his eye. “And to think that we have one of the prettiest girls to serve our table. What an honor.”

“That's sweet of you to say.” Sandra beamed in Ezra's direction.

Loud throat-clearing came from several of the men, and protests of, “Please do your courting tonight after the hymn singing.”

Sandra joined in the laughter. “Don't eat too much while I'm gone,” she chided. “I'll be right back.”

Two other girls came into the bedroom when Sandra stepped through the doorway. Thankfully Lydia wasn't among them. Lydia wasn't bold like Sandra was, but Lydia had other charms that she had no compunction to deploy. Likely Lydia would try to sneak out early once Ezra went out to hitch up his horse and engage him in conversation—all under some innocent pretext, of course. They both had their different ways to attract Ezra's attentions. But surely Ezra would soon see that Sandra's way was the best. She would make the man happy as his
frau
. And even before that, she was sure they would be the bubbliest couple in the community—if only Ezra could be brought to his senses. Surely he enjoyed her conversation and light banter. Wasn't that a
goot
enough reason to see more of each other? What better way to spend this winter's cold Sunday evenings than to gather around the pot-bellied stove in the living room of their place on Madrid Road and play backgammon and
Monopoly? Ezra was
goot
at all those board games. She had played with him often enough at the youth gatherings to know. And once married they could laugh and tell each other stories as their
kinner
grew up around them.