Lydia's Hope (29 page)

An Excerpt from

SUSANNA’S DREAM

The Lost Sisters of Pleasant Valley

BOOK TWO

by Marta Perry

Coming in print and e-book

from Berkley Books

in February 2014

T
 he
shop was too quiet. Susanna Bitler straightened one of the paintings she had on consignment
from an Englisch artist and moved on to the display of quilted place mats. Her partner
in Plain Gifts, Dora Gaus, might return from her doctor appointment in time to close,
but Susanna certain-sure didn’t need help. A rainy weekday in September always meant
few customers in the shop.

Unfortunately that gave her too much time to think. Susanna smoothed the skirt of
her black dress, a reminder of her mother’s death less than a month ago. She must
stop feeling sorry for herself. Mamm’s death had been God’s will, and she wouldn’t
have wanted her mother to linger in pain. Still . . .

A sound at the shop door ended the stream of thoughts that might well have her in
tears if she weren’t careful. Susanna turned toward the door, arranging a welcoming
smile on her face.

The bell tinkled as the door opened, and the smile froze on her face. Not a customer.
Her visitor was Nathaniel Gaus, Dora’s son. A nice enough man, she supposed, except
that he always seemed to regard his mother’s young partner with a vague disapproval
that Susanna found unsettling.

“Nathaniel.” She moved toward him, more than usually aware of her limp, the result
of a childhood accident. “I’m sorry, but your mother isn’t here.” Odd that he wouldn’t
have known. Dora had lived with her son since the death of his wife several years
earlier.

Nathaniel slapped his black hat against his leg to shake off the raindrops that clung
to it. With his fair hair and beard, blue eyes, ruddy skin, and broad shoulders, he
probably looked like the popular Englisch image of an Amish man, but Nathaniel wasn’t
a typical farmer. He owned a successful bulk foods store here in Oyersburg.

“I don’t think I’ve talked to you since your mamm’s funeral.” Nate came closer, forcing
her to look up to see his face. “You have my sympathy.”

“Denke.” She blinked, taken aback by the tears that seemed to come too readily when
someone spoke of Mamm. “May I take a message for your mother?”

“No, that’s all right. Actually, I came to speak to you.”

Susanna stiffened, thoughts jostling in her mind. “Was ist letz?” She couldn’t imagine
Nate seeking her out unless something was wrong.

“Nothing.” He glanced around the shop, his gaze skimming the pottery, the hooked rugs,
the assortment of handmade candles, the quilted place mats and carved napkin holders
that made Plain Gifts so cozy and welcoming. She and Dora served as the sales point
for most of the Amish craftspeople in the area, as well as some Englisch artisans.
“The shop isn’t busy,” he observed.

Susanna tried to quell the defensive feeling that sprang up at what she felt was dismissal
in his tone. “Once school is in session, most of our shoppers come on Saturdays. Things
will pick up as we get closer to Christmas.” Probably Nate didn’t have such cycles
in his bulk foods business. Folks always had to eat.

“I suppose.” A frown settled between his straight brows. “That’s why Mamm is always
so tired around the holidays.”

Susanna wasn’t sure whether that was a criticism or not. “I suppose we both work extra
hard then. We could always get a girl in to help out if needed.”

His frown seemed to deepen. “Mamm has family to occupy her, especially at the holidays.
It’s different for you.” He stopped, seeming to hear what he’d just said. “I mean—”

“It’s true that I don’t have any kin here in Oyersburg now that my mother has passed.
But I don’t know what that has to do with you or the shop.” Her temper, usually under
firm control, slipped a bit. “Why don’t you say what it is you want to say, Nate,
instead of beating around the bush?”

He blinked, as if startled that she would speak her mind to him. “Ja, well, the point
is that my mamm isn’t getting any younger.”

She could imagine Dora’s reaction at hearing her son say such a thing. “None of us
are.”

A flash of exasperation crossed his face, but he reined it in quickly. Nate was a
man who didn’t let his feelings show. “True enough. I didn’t come here to argue with
you, Susanna. I came to ask for your help.”

“Then you’ve a funny way of going about it,” she said, still nettled. It seemed to
her that Nate was entirely too fond of getting his own way.

His face relaxed into a smile, his blue eyes warming in an expression she’d never
seen before . . . one that gave her a funny, prickling feeling along her skin. “Komm,
Susanna. I apologize. Let me start over, ja?”

Most women would have trouble resisting the smile that appeared so rarely on his face,
and she didn’t seem an exception. “Ja, all right.”

He nodded. “Well, then, Susanna, I would like your help with my mother.”

Her breath caught. “Is something wrong with her?”

“No, no.” He touched her sleeve lightly in reassurance, and she seemed to feel his
warmth right through the fabric. “She is getting older, that’s all, and I fear she’s
working too hard. She ought to be able to take it easy now that her kinder are grown.”

Susanna tried to imagine the ever-busy Dora sitting in a rocking chair with her knitting
instead of being up and doing. She couldn’t.

“Maybe your mamm doesn’t want to take it easy.”

“Sometimes people aren’t the best judge of what’s good for them,” he countered.

“True enough.” A frown wrinkled her forehead. “If you think Dora should take more
time off, I am happy to spend more hours in the shop.” Probably everyone knew that
she had little else in her life just now.

“Ach, we both know how she is.” His smile invited her to agree with him. “She’d be
in here every day anyway just to make sure things were running fine.”

Susanna realized she was staring at him, studying his face for any clues as to what
he was really saying. “You know I would do anything for Dora, but I’m not sure how
I can help.”

His gaze sharpened as if he’d finally reached the heart of the matter. “You can, Susanna.
You can persuade my mother to give up the shop.”

The words fell with such stunning swiftness that they shocked her into immobility.
Nate went on talking, but his voice was only a background to the panic that swept
in as she realized the impact of his proposal.

“. . . you might buy my mother out if you wanted to run the shop on your own, of course.
Or I thought maybe since your mother is gone, you’d want to move back to Ohio, where
you grew up. You’d have friends and kinfolk there. I’m sure the shop was a good solution
when you had your mamm to take care of, but now you’re free to—”

“No.” The word came out with explosive force.

For a moment Nate didn’t speak. “
No
what?” His brows gathered together like thunderclouds forming.

“No, I will not try to talk Dora into doing something I don’t think she wants to do.”
A few other words crowded her lips, words about bossy men and people who thought they
had all the answers, but she held them back.

“I think I know what is best for my mother.” His voice had hardened.

“And I think your mother knows what’s best for her.”

Nate’s shoulders stiffened. “Then I guess we don’t have anything more to say to each
other.” He settled his hat squarely on his head and stalked out, disapproval in every
line of his body.

The door closed hard enough to make the bell nearly jangle off its hook. Susanna froze
until Nate had passed the shop window and disappeared. Then she clasped her hand over
her lips.

She would not cry. She would not give in to despair.

But if Nate had his way . . .

The money she had left after her mother’s final illness was nowhere near enough to
buy out Dora’s half of the business. What was she going to do? She didn’t have anything
else.