The Twin (Lindy's Story Book 1) Page 2

  But it was a good thing they’d hired her.

  She got right to it, cleaning up first and then starting over. Within a half hour, the sweet smell of pancakes filled the room. She’d made enough for her and Robert. Then she fried an egg and took it and a piece of toast in to Berta.

  “Here you go, Berta,” she said.

  “I think I’d like to go in to the table this morning.”

  “Oh, that’d be nice. Let me help you.” She set the plate of food down on the table next to Berta’s bed. “Let’s get you sitting up, first.”

  Berta rose to a sitting position and then slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed. She paused, and Lindy could see she was dizzy. She quickly put her arm around Berta’s shoulders.

  “We’ll take it slowly,” she said. “We’ve got all morning.”

  She heard the side door shut and a few seconds later, Robert came into the room. “Ach, but it smells fine in here.” He took in both of them. “Lindy, I’ve got her.”

  Lindy stepped back and let Robert help Berta to the table. She grabbed up the plate and followed them.

  “Your mamm is having eggs this morning,” she said. “I made pancakes for you and me.”

  “Sounds fine,” Robert responded, getting his mother in her chair.

  Lindy went to get the platter of pancakes and the sausage patties she’d fried up and brought them out. She’d already set the table and put on the syrup and butter.

  “Is there honey on this toast?” Berta asked.

  Both Lindy and Robert laughed, and Lindy went back to fetch the large jar of honey. “You’ve got a big supply now, Berta,” she said. “I can pour honey onto everything.”

  “Let’s start with my toast,” Berta said, smiling.

  It was going to be a good day, Lindy thought. Berta was in good spirits, and there she was, sitting at the table with them. She often took her meals—if one could call them meals considering how little she ate—in bed or sitting on the edge of her bed. When she came to the table, it was cause for rejoicing.

  “Lindy is taking me out to the porch today,” Berta told Robert. “It looks to be a right fine day.”

  “That it is,” Robert said. He glanced over at Lindy and gave her an appreciative smile.

  Lindy smiled back. “Maybe we can even work a bit on your embroidery,” she suggested.

  Berta’s face lit up. “Ach, but that would be wonderful gut,” she said. She looked down at her eggs and slowly raised a bite to her mouth. Lindy watched her, trying not to look too obvious. Three bites. Berta took three whole bites before pushing her plate away.

  “I need to go back,” she said, her expression now pinched. “I, well, I plumb wore myself out.”

  Lindy sprang up from the table and so did Robert.

  “All right, Mamm,” he said gently. “You did really gut. Thank you for eating with us.”

  He and Lindy helped Berta back to her bed.

  Chapter Three

  Reuben turned over in bed and opened his eyes, squinting into the bright sunlight that blasted through the window. He groaned. Once again, he’d forgotten to close the curtains. He gave a rueful laugh. Not that the curtains did much good. They were ragged, hanging from the rods like they were ready to expire.

  The whole place was a dump. But then, he could hardly afford more. His job at the local fast food joint didn’t pay much, and without any education to speak of, he wasn’t likely to get better. An eighth-grade education wasn’t anything to boast about in the fancy world.

  You could have stayed with your cousin, he chastised himself, sitting up.

  “I could have,” he said out loud to the empty room.

  But he hadn’t wanted to. Truth was, coming to Ohio to help his cousin with planting and harvest had turned into something entirely different. Once he’d left Indiana, Reuben’s appetite for the new and different was whetted. He did stay with his cousin for a good month, but then, he left. Just up and left.

  His cousin would likely never speak to him again.

  Reuben sighed. No matter. It was worth it. He glanced over at the ridiculous looking hat he had to wear for work. In fact, he was on the second morning shift that day, so he needed to get up and at it. The work was easy, if somewhat boring. He stood and assembled the orders, slapping pickles on the buns or the odd circle of egg on the muffins. And the ketchup and mustard. The first few nights after he’d started working there, he dreamt of condiments—onions and tomatoes and relish floated through his mind all night.

  But he’d gotten over that. And he did love it when they handed him his check every week. They were a bit put out with him that he didn’t have a bank account for direct deposit, but they finally agreed to write him a check.

  Which he sometimes had problems cashing. He needed to get a bank account and soon. He stumbled to the bathroom, wiping sleep from his eyes. He stood at the sink and observed himself in the mirror. His eyes looked haggard. He needed to get to bed earlier. Back in Hollybrook, he wouldn’t have considered staying up as late as he did now.

  But things had changed.

  The image of Lindy flashed through his mind. Dear, sweet Lindy. She thought he was still at his cousin’s, working the farm. She would be stunned to know he was in his own apartment, living in the Englischer’s world. He needed to tell her, but he didn’t have the heart to do it. And it was getting harder and harder to write to her. His last letter had been pathetic, and he knew it.

  Lindy had responded with two pages of news. He knew she was feeling his abruptness, his lack of detail. If he was going to deceive her anyway, he should do a better job of it. Give her a page of farm details that would set her mind at rest.

  Why was he keeping up the ruse anyway? He should break it off with her. She would never agree to be courted by someone who had gone worldly. But he wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure he would never return to Hollybrook and resume his life as a good Amish lad.

  Lad? He was an adult now. Wasn’t he making his way in the world all by himself?

  He picked up his cell phone which he’d left on the back of the toilet. A stupid place to put it… He scrolled through the photos he’d taken the night before. There were plenty of photos he’d taken of Ariel. Man, she was good-looking. Gorgeous. She worked with him and was only too eager to spend the evening with him in the small park outside the local coffee shop. He didn’t have much money, of course, for a real date, but she seemed content with just being with him.

  And he’d kissed her. Pleasure at the memory rushed through him—pleasure that was immediately crowded out with feelings of guilt.

  Lindy. You should forget about me.

  But he didn’t want Lindy to forget about him. She was beautiful and sweet and gentle and loyal… And she was waiting for him. Waiting for him to ask her to marry him. Last time they were together, he saw it in her eyes. She loved him.

  And he loved her. Or did he? He certainly wasn’t acting like he did. Still, he didn’t want to break it off with her. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, right?

  Right, he told himself.

  But the guilt remained.

  * * *

  Robert stood in the middle of his field, nearly invisible for the height of the corn. He pulled back the tassel and part of the husk from an ear and inspected it. It looked healthy and sweet. The crops were good this year—the entire district was alive with it. It was the topic of conversation on everyone’s lips. The weather had been perfect for growing that year—something that wasn’t always the case. The year before, there had been so much rain, the farmers had to replant. Even then, the virtual ponds of rain in their fields kept their production low. It hadn’t been good. More than one in their district were in dire straits as a result of it.

  But this year, smiles abounded. The weather was good. The crops were healthy and strong. Harvest season was going to be busy.

  He took off his straw hat and wiped his brow with his forearm. He needed his brother there. He sighed heavily. But Reuben wouldn’t be co
ming. Robert would never forget when his letter to his brother, written in care of their cousin, was returned to him with a curt note.

  Reuben has left. No use writing him here anymore.

  Robert had panicked, wondering where in the world Reuben had gone. He certainly hadn’t come home. But then, about eight days later, he’d gotten a letter from his twin.

  Dear Robert,

  Don’t tell Mamm. No need to worry her. But I’m not at Otto’s any longer. I left. I’m living in Dayton now. I got me an apartment and a job. It’s not much, but enough. I’m going to be staying here for a while. You don’t need to tell anyone. Especially not Lindy. Let me tell her. I’m fine here. Don’t worry about me.

  Reuben

  Robert had read the letter over three times before the truth of it really sank in. His brother had left the faith. The knowledge sent a spear of worry and dismay through him. What was Reuben thinking? And no, he wouldn’t tell their mother. She was too ill and too weak to take the news. Telling her would be the height of cruelty.

  But Lindy? How unfair was that? He put his hat back on and pressed it down over his forehead. He’d gotten to know Lindy quite well in the past weeks, and he felt like a cad knowing what he knew and not telling her. He was certain she was still writing Reuben because she’d questioned him about Rueben’s new mailing address. He had no idea what Reuben had told her regarding the change, but when she saw his own feigned lack of concern about it, she’d accepted it. Pretending that lack of concern had been an admirable feat, Robert thought, remembering.

  But it wasn’t admirable, was it? It was dishonest. So now, not only was Reuben deceiving Lindy, but he was, too. And he didn’t like it. Lindy was a nice girl—she didn’t deserve this. And Lindy was Rachel’s sister, and since he was seeing Rachel, it made it even worse.

  His only hope was that Reuben would change his mind and come home. Robert had been clear about their mother’s health, figuring that would bring Reuben back right away. But it hadn’t. If things continued to progress health-wise for their mother, he’d have to go find Reuben and bring him back himself. It was unthinkable that Berta could die before seeing Reuben again.

  Chapter Four

  Lindy sat on the far edge of her bed, gazing out the window. The sun was already up. She must have overslept. At least she’d gotten some sleep that night. She’d tossed and turned for hours, her mind too full to sleep. Berta’s sweet wrinkled face plunged in and out of her thoughts. She’d had a good day the day before, and Lindy was grateful for that. Berta had even spent part of the morning reminiscing about her late husband.

  Lindy had sat at her feet, soaking up each word. She wanted to know all about him—all about Reuben’s father. He’d died when the twins were only four years old, and Berta had never remarried.

  “Never even thought about it, really,” Berta admitted. “Ach, but he was a gut man. Handsome, too.” She chuckled.

  Lindy didn’t doubt that for a moment; she was quite smitten with Reuben’s looks. Robert’s too, for that matter.

  “My mamm, before she passed, tried to play matchmaker for me. ‘You shouldn’t be bringing up them boys alone,’ she’d say. But I’d just look at her and tell her I wasn’t bringing them up alone. After all, wasn’t she helping me?” Berta laughed outright at that, her thin voice filling the air. “Ach, but that got her mad. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the thought—I did. But how could I possibly replace my Henry? I couldn’t. I fell for him, hook, line, and sinker, I did.”

  After that, she grew quiet, and Lindy stayed quiet, also. The morning air was thick with birdsong, and it was pleasant sitting together like that. Lindy marveled at Berta’s kind of love. Was Lindy’s love for Reuben the same? She didn’t know, and it troubled her.

  Berta had taken a long nap afterward, even missing the noon meal. Lindy and Robert had eaten alone, talking quietly so as not to awaken Berta in the other room.

  And there was something else that troubled Lindy. She was becoming accustomed to those quiet moments with Robert, and when she looked into his eyes, she would get him mixed up with Reuben. Except Robert was the more thoughtful of the two. He brought up deeper topics of conversation. And Robert enjoyed talking about his faith, something Reuben never did.

  And why didn’t he? Lindy wondered. The way Robert brought it up seemed so natural and normal. But Reuben didn’t even lead them in silent prayer when they dined together.

  She shivered. Goodness, but would her brain never turn off?

  She stood and walked to the window, pulling the breezy white curtain aside. She watched her dad lead their cow from the barn. He must have already milked her. Lindy needed to get going. She turned and hurried to take her dress from its peg, and then she went down the hall to the bathroom.

  When she emerged, Rachel was there, leaning against the wall.

  “Ach, Rachel, you startled me.”

  “Sorry. You slept in this morning. Mamm sent me up to get you.”

  “I’m sorry. I know I over-slept. I don’t know what got into me.” She walked by Rachel to return her nightgown to her room.

  “So, what are you doing today at the Masts’?”

  Lindy turned to look at her. “What do you mean? The same thing I always do. Care for Berta and do the cooking and cleaning.”

  “Can I come by today?”

  “Of course, if Mamm can spare you.”

  Rachel heaved a dramatic sigh. “Surely, she can spare me for an hour or two. I can ride the bicycle.”

  “Let’s ask her,” Lindy said, leading the way down the stairs.

  * * *

  Robert made no effort to make breakfast that morning, even though Lindy arrived a bit late. He found himself eagerly awaiting her arrival. He assured himself that it was only because his mother needed her. That was all. Of course, that was all.

  Still, when he heard her pony cart pull into the drive, his heart did a little flip. He hurried to the barn door as she drove in.

  “Gut morning,” he called, waving.

  “Gut morning,” she called back. She pulled Goldie to a halt right in front of the barn doors and Robert set to unhitching her.

  Lindy climbed out of the cart. “How’s Berta this morning?”

  “I haven’t spoken to her. I peeked in on her before coming out to do the chores, but she was still sleeping.”

  “Did she take her pain medicine last night?”

  He shook his head. “She hates it. Puts her in a fog, she says. Doesn’t matter how much I try to convince her.”

  Lindy frowned. “Well, I guess if she can stand the pain.”

  “It isn’t always horrible,” he said.

  “I know. When does she see the doctor next?”

  He sighed. “No reason to see him, she says. She’s dying, and she doesn’t need an Englisch doctor telling her so.”

  “Still, he might be able to help.”

  Robert shook his head. “She won’t hear of it.” He’d tried and tried to convince her otherwise, but she would only allow Old Mae to doctor her—and Old Mae could hardly deal with cancer. In the beginning, when Berta started to feel poorly, she’d allowed Robert to take her to a doctor. But she quickly wearied of the poking and prodding and blood-taking and tests. Not to mention the cost, which she declared was out-and-out robbery. And when the diagnosis of her cancer had come in, accompanied by the prescribed treatment of radical, invasive measures, Berta put her foot down.

  “I’m an Amish woman,” she’d declared, “and I won’t be spending my last days in an Englisch hospital that costs an arm and a leg.”

  No amount of urging would convince her otherwise. She’d fitfully agreed to painkillers, although she didn’t take them regularly, and that was that.

  “Hire someone to help around the house,” she’d told Robert when the housework proved too much for her. “And let me die in peace.”

  Robert had gone to the Shelters and asked Jed if he could spare one of his daughters to help. He’d secretly hoped it would be Rach
el. He’d grown mighty fond of her and enjoyed their evening buggy rides together. But Jed had given him Lindy instead. Robert hadn’t minded—Lindy was nice. She was Reuben’s girl, so he knew she was all right. And as it turned out, Lindy seemed to be exactly what his mother needed. She had the right mixture of sternness and gentleness which pleased Berta.

  And if his mother was pleased, so was he.

  Now, he led Goldie out to pasture. Lindy had paused to watch, and he smiled at her. “By the way,” he said, “I didn’t try to make breakfast this morning.”

  She laughed, and the sound bubbled through the air. “Small blessings,” she said. She shook her head in amusement and headed toward the house.

  When she was almost to the side door, she turned and called out, “Oh, Rachel might be coming by today.”

  He nodded. Rachel. That would be nice. He hadn’t seen her in a few days, and in truth, he hadn’t been thinking of her that often. But it would be nice to see her smiling face. She’d likely spend a few minutes with him during her visit, and his mother would be happy to have company. He hoped anyway. If his mother was having a bad day, company wouldn’t be welcome, no matter how hospitable Berta used to be.

  He wondered what Lindy would make for breakfast that morning. Hopefully, pancakes again. My, but that girl could cook. Girl? No, she was hardly that. What in the world was Reuben thinking to leave such a fine woman behind?

  He needed to contact Reuben again. Urge him again to come home—if only for a visit. The last time Reuben had written, he’d given Robert his phone number. He had a cell phone, evidently. Maybe Robert should go to the phone shanty and call him. The bishop would approve such a call, wouldn’t he? Considering the health of Berta? This would hardly be a phone call for the fun of it.