A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series) by Vannetta Chapman

her father to Rachel, contentedly nursing at Miriam’sbreast. Her face was peaceful now, almost angelic. One hand was resting against Miriam’s dress. “I couldn’t have been that loud. Half the town must have heard her.”
    “I believe you were. Rachel must have inherited it from our side of the family.”
    “Makes sense,” Miriam said. “We had quiet babies. My mamm says even my bruders were quiet. But our Rachel has healthy lungs.”
    They continued that way for a few miles, Rachel nursing and Grace trying to remember. Had she ever been like that? Was it possible? Finally Miriam sat the baby up, supporting her in the front with one hand and rubbing her back gently with the other.
    A loud burp filled the buggy.
    Grace giggled so hard she fell back against the seat.
    “That she also gets from me,” Gabe boasted.
    They traveled in peace on the road out of town, leaving the crowds behind them.
    “What did you think of the shops, Grace?” Miriam resettled Rachel at her other breast.
    “I thought they were awfully crowded. I didn’t know we had so many people in Pebble Creek.”
    “Technically in Cashton.” Gabe pulled gently on Chance’s reins to direct him to the right side of the road so that an Englisch car could pass.
    “ Ya . I know it is Cashton, but I think of it by our name—Pebble Creek.”
    “Well, Pebble Creek is the river’s name. Amish refer to the area as Pebble Creek because we’re not all in the city limits.”
    Her dad had explained this before. It seemed the older he got, the more he repeated himself. She decided it would be rude to point that out. “ Ya . I like the name Pebble Creek better than Cashton, though. It’s softer.”
    “Could be you like rivers more than towns.”
    “That too.”
    “So what did you think of Amish Anthem?” This time Miriamraised Rachel to her shoulder to burp her. The sound that came out was more girlish, but it still made Grace giggle. She liked the way her sister smiled at her over Miriam’s shoulder.
    “Some of the things they sold were nice enough, but it was much too crowded. I enjoyed the porch more than the store.”
    Gabe pulled his beard thoughtfully. “I was wondering if you two would like to have a kitchen like the one Drake designed. We could rip ours out and redo it.”
    Grace knew her dad was making a joke. He might be old but he wasn’t crazy. If he’d been serious, she would have asked Miriam to take him to see Doc Hanson. Miriam knew he was kidding too.
    “ Ya . I’d like that root cellar in the kitchen. How about you, Grace? Then we wouldn’t have to use the pantry.”
    Narrisch . Possibly both of her parents were narrisch . She’d heard that falling in lieb could make you that way, and it seemed to have happened.
    She’d talk to Joshua and Abigail about it the next day. Her new grandparents were good at explaining things to her. They were the best. They were wise . The word sounded exactly right in her head. When she said it, pictures of Joshua and Abigail always popped up in her mind. She enjoyed Sundays at their home. Sometimes her whole family went over to the Kings’ on Saturday afternoon, and she was allowed to stay and spend the night there.
    Those nights were the very best—filled with hot chocolate, games of checkers, and daddi Joshua’s stories. He would tell her tales of when he was a young man, when he’d fish along the banks of Pebble Creek, when there was no noise from cars along the roads and panthers could be seen along the opposite bank.
    Remembering those stories made her fingers itch to draw her grossdaddi ’s memories.
    They arrived at the cabins in no time at all. As soon as they pulled into the parking area, Grace remembered why she’d wanted to come along with her family.
    The cabins still appeared tired and lonely sitting among the trees,though someone had recently given the trees a cutting. Instead of making things look improved, to Grace it seemed as though all that had been accomplished was