Second Chance Proposal

She glanced up then, her gaze meeting his and she did not look away as she continued to speak to young Samuel, reassuring the boy that she had seen his birthday cake and it was his favorite—banana with chocolate frosting. John wondered if she was remembering that this was his favorite, as well. He wondered if she was remembering a day when the two of them had shared a single piece of cake, their fingers sticky with the frosting as they fed each other bites while sitting in the loft of her father’s barn.

How they had laughed together that day, and on so many other days. But now her expression was as serious as it had been each time he had seen her since his return. In her eyes he saw questions and could not help but wonder if her questions were the same as his.

Chapter Five

Lydia had managed to convince herself that once she settled into the daily routine of morning and evening chores separated by her duties as teacher, John Amman would be less of a problem for her. Surely, once everyone in Celery Fields returned to the regular business of living and working, John would cease to be the topic of discussion and speculation. He would be busy with his work at the hardware store all day every day except Sundays. The chores he had taken on for Luke in exchange for living above the livery would occupy him in the early mornings and after the store had closed for the day.

But when she returned home on Monday she found a basket filled with oranges next to her door. There were orange trees in Greta’s yard and her first thought was that the gift had come from her sister. But she and Greta had sat on the back porch after they’d finished cleaning up after the party on Sunday and Lydia had noticed that the fruit on her sister’s tree was not quite ripe enough to pick yet.

“The tree outside Luke’s shop is loaded with fruit,” Greta had said. “Every day he brings me a basket filled with the largest, sweetest oranges I’ve ever tasted.”

Lydia hesitated before reaching for the basket. She glanced down toward the livery where she could see the tree, its orange bounty reflected in the bright sunlight of late afternoon. The tree stood just outside the stables at the back of Luke’s shop and she was well aware it was a tree that John passed every time he descended or climbed the stairs to his living quarters.

A square of white paper tucked in with the fruit caught her eye.

“Remember the day we picked oranges?”

She folded the paper slowly as the memory he’d awakened overcame her. They could not have been much more than ten or eleven. It had been Christmastime and the children and their teacher had planned a special program to celebrate the season. Their teacher had sent the older children—Lydia and John among them—to pick oranges from a grove of trees at the Harnischer farm to be handed out as a treat at the end of the evening.

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