Amanda Weds a Good Man (25 page)

“I'll handle Wyman,” Sam replied with a chuckle. “Stop by with the kids who lost shoes and boots, and we'll fix you up with the right sizes. Got a new shipment in last week.”

Amanda let out an exasperated sigh. “Wyman will insist on paying you,” she repeated, “and we'll just have to have all you Lambrights out for dinner soon—and, Emma, I want you and James and your parents to come along, too. How about a week from tomorrow, when it's a visiting Sunday?”

Emma's expression vacillated, as though she'd really love to come yet she felt hesitant. “That'll depend on how Mamm and Dat are doing that day,” she hedged.

Abby glanced quizzically at her friend as she emptied her wagon. “That would be nice, Amanda. We'd love to come,” she insisted. “And I've got Gail covering for me in the store today, so if you need help unpacking I can go with you right now.”

When Emma handed up the garment bag, Amanda counted six hangers. How on earth had these busy women found time to sew up that many dresses since yesterday? And now Abby was offering to spend her day helping them, as well. “Denki so much,” Amanda murmured, “but you've already gone above and beyond, Abby. I'm putting the kids in charge of setting up their rooms, and with Jerome and the Miller fellows helping, we'll be settled in no time.”

Sam slung his arm around her shoulder. “I'm not supposed to tell you this, cousin, but Jerome has already paid for your groceries and some new pie pans and bowls and what-not. I suspect he's real glad to have his favorite cooks moving back home for a while.”

Up on the seat, Jemima laughed. “Well, what do you think about that? I might just find the time to make that boy a raisin sour cream pie today.”

“Jah, he made sure we put in a big bag of raisins.” Abby flashed Amanda a grin. “We'll be right back! Don't leave yet.”

“Jah, we couldn't carry everything on this last trip,” Emma added as she hurried toward the store behind Abby.

Now
what were they going to do? Amanda knew better than to protest their generosity any further, even as she surveyed the huge stack of staples and clothing the Lambrights had added to their load. “Looks like the frozen food should wait until the men come through,” she suggested. “They're loading the animals into Ray's stock trailer, so they'll have room for it in the buggies and the other wagon.”

“That'll work. You'll be settled in no time, and then your Clearwater house will be rebuilt, and all of these inconveniences will be behind you,” Sam said. His expression sobered then. “After that, it's a matter of how you work everything out with your bishop. But the Lord will see to that, as well.”

“Jah, He will,” she said, hoping she sounded confident rather than doubtful. “Uriah's none too happy about us leaving the district when I was to make my kneeling confession tomorrow, but we all have to
wait
occasionally. Even bishops, ain't so?”

“That's one way to look at it, jah. Hope you get these matters—”

“Here you go!” Abby rushed around the side of the wagon with a lidded container, which she pressed into Amanda's hands. “Even though James and I won't be watching the kids for you this weekend, I thought a certain somebody might be tickled to have these.”

At that, Cora and Dora peered eagerly over the side of the wagon. “What's in there?” one twin asked while her sister said, “Let's look now! I bet Abby made us some goodies!”

Amanda laughed. “This pan will ride up front with Mammi and me, so everyone sees this surprise when we eat our dinner,” she said. “Denki ever so much, Abby.”

“And here's a little something for your breakfast,” Emma said as she handed a rectangular pan to Jemima. “You gals have a lot to do today, without worrying about baking for Sunday, too.”

Jemima lifted the lid of the pan and chuckled when she saw its contents. “Why do I suspect you made these for
another
certain somebody at our place?” she asked.

As Emma's cheeks flushed, her brow furrowed. “Now don't you go thinking I—I baked anything for Jerome,” she stammered. “Matter of fact, if he carries on as though these sticky buns are especially for him, you'd better set him straight right off. He's been nice to my folks lately, jah, but that doesn't mean I'll go out on even one date with him.”

Amanda blinked, while Sam and Abby seemed surprised by Emma's declaration, as well. “I still hope you and James will bring your parents next Sunday,” Amanda repeated. “Wyman and I want to thank you for all you've done—and it'll be a fine time to celebrate everyone surviving the storm and moving beyond it.”

“Can't think of a better reason for getting together,” Sam agreed. He reached up to clasp her hand. “Have a gut day with your move, Amanda—and if there's anything you need, you know where to come.”

As Amanda drove on down the county blacktop toward Bloomingdale, her mind was spinning yet again. She wasn't sure what to think about Emma's attitude toward Jerome—but was there no end to Sam's generosity and Abby's surprises? If she could make any request at all, she would have her cousin the preacher convince Uriah Schmucker to back down from his hard-line attitude about the state of her soul and its salvation. But as Sam had said, the Lord would see that everything happened the way He wanted it to. Patience and prayer were her best friends. . . .

Such concerns disappeared once they pulled into the familiar old farm lane. Oh, but it was good to see Jerome stepping out onto the porch and it was music to her ears as the girls laughed and jumped down to hug him. Even though Vera hung back, gazing around the yard and at the house as she talked quietly to Alice Ann, Wyman's eldest child seemed ready to accept this temporary home with an open heart.

And wasn't it a joy to watch Lizzie take Vera by the hand, chattering about the different rooms they had to choose from? Lizzie seemed like her former self again—looking forward to school with her friends, smiling and laughing and singing while she'd chased down the chickens this morning. Cora and Dora followed their sisters inside, their faces bright with the excitement of returning to the house where they'd been born.

Jerome helped Jemima down from the wagon and then slipped an arm around the two women's shoulders. “I'm sorry about the circumstances,” he murmured, “but it's mighty gut to have you gals home. Hope I haven't left the place in more of a mess—”

“Puh!” Jemima tweaked his nose, a gesture that had irritated him as a kid. “Takes more than a little mess to keep
me
out of this kitchen.”

“And
I
will see that Wyman repays you for all that food,” Amanda insisted as she playfully jabbed his chest with her finger. “You had no reason to—”

“Ah, but I didn't need a reason,” Jerome stated simply. “After all the years you and Uncle Atlee looked after me, it's my turn to do the looking-after, ain't so? And maybe I'm practicing for when I have a wife to take care of.”

Amanda's eyebrows shot up, but she kept her comments—and Emma's remarks—to herself. It was no secret that her nephew had his eye on the Graber girl and she didn't want to be the one to disappoint him.

Jemima, however, let out a grunt as Jerome helped her down from the wagon seat. “Don't get your hopes up, far as Emma Graber goes,” she remarked. “She might've made us some sticky buns, but she's not sending you any encouragement to go with them. Made that pretty clear, she did.”

Oh, but Amanda felt sorry for her nephew when his smile dropped. He'd been trying so hard to prove himself worthy, but it was best to let him work through his feelings about Emma for himself.

“Jah, well.” Jerome adjusted his hat, gesturing toward the road. “We've got company.”

The hum of a truck engine and the thunderous
clip-clop! clip-clop!
announced the arrival of the stock wagon and the three other vehicles Wyman had decided to bring over from Clearwater. As the parade entered the lane, a little arm shot up in a wild wave.

“Jerome, hi! Remember me and Wags?”

“Hey there, Simon,” Jerome called out. “Gut to see you!”

“Can we go see your mules?”

Jerome chuckled as the Fishers' pickup rumbled in front of him. He directed Trevor and Ray toward the barn, then ambled over to meet Wyman's approaching wagon. When Jerome held up his arms, Simon leaped into them.

“You can help me feed and water those mules later today, Simon,” he said as he turned the boy upside down to make him laugh. “Right now, you can help us guys put your animals and all this
furniture
where your mamm wants it.”

Once again Amanda was dumbstruck. There on the wagon she saw her treadle sewing machine, her mamm's china hutch, and Jemima's pie safe. The legs of the maple bedroom set Atlee had crafted for her peeked out from beneath old quilts. But what did this mean? Did Wyman
never
intend to find room for her furniture in the Brubaker house? He hadn't said a word about bringing these pieces along for the family's temporary relocation. . . .

“Don't look so worried, Aunt Amanda,” Jerome murmured as he carried a cane-seated rocking chair toward the front door. “A little bird told Wyman this furniture would feel just as gut in its old home as you would. And he listened! That's progress, jah?”

Amanda's throat tightened, but she refused to cry. She was
finished
with all those tears, because it seemed everyone she loved was conspiring to make her happy. God was bringing joy and love and peace home to roost like pigeons—or like the chickens squawking in their makeshift pen—and she had plenty of room in her heart for all of those emotions.

“Denki, Wyman,” she whispered when her husband kissed her lightly. “With all the surprises the Lambrights had for us, seeing my furniture is, well—it's the frosting on the cake.”

When Wyman smiled at her, he looked handsome and . . . downright relaxed, as though his recent worries had disappeared. “Let's try for some cake and frosting every day, shall we?”

Amanda smiled. Was it her imagination, or had the sky just grown bluer and had the autumn leaves turned even more brilliant in the morning sunshine? “Jah, Wyman. We can do that.”

A
s Wyman sat among the men of the Bloomingdale district, eating the common meal after Sunday's church service, it struck him: everyone here was so
friendly
. Laughter filled the crowded front room, which had been extended by taking down the wall partitions to set up for church. The Hilty family was hosting today, and the women circulated among the long tables, pouring more water and tea, passing trays of sandwiches. Folks were smiling as though this was a special party to welcome him, his kids, and Amanda's family
home
. Wyman hardly knew a soul—but he wanted to.

“What a difference in atmosphere,” he murmured to Eddie, seated on his left.

“Jah, back in Clearwater I bet they're talking of hellfire and damnation, on account of how Amanda's not there to repent,” his son replied. “Truth be told, Dat, I've not been inclined to join the church partly because of the way Uriah treated Mamm—and now the way he and the others are picking on Amanda. It doesn't seem very Christian, you know?”

And wasn't
that
a notable observation from his critical, more rebellious son? At the next table, Pete sat beside Jerome, chatting with several younger fellows . . . Simon had chosen to join Cora and Dora at a table where other youngsters and their mothers were eating . . . Vera giggled loudly at something one of Lizzie's friends had just said. While he had visited other districts for weddings and funerals, it was the ordinary Sunday services that bespoke the true personality of a Plain community. He had felt as though Preacher Dwayne Lehman's sermon on a passage from Joshua had been chosen specifically for him, as well.
Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the
LORD
thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.

While Wyman wasn't afraid of Uriah Schmucker, he had certainly been dismayed by his bishop's attitude—and now this Bible verse was nudging him to think outside the tightly defined world where he'd lived all his life. He was pleased when Eddie went over to mingle with a cluster of young people who'd finished eating . . . noticed how his son chatted with a couple of the girls, who responded to him with enthusiastic nods and smiles. And when he caught Amanda's eye from across the noisy room, her expression made him hold his breath. She looked so relaxed. So
happy
. She was laughing with her friends as she had done before she met him . . . unaware of the transformation that Wyman could see so clearly.

Amanda looked young and bubbly.
Jubilant.
Wyman wished he had been the one to put such a sparkle in her brown eyes. While, yes, she was glad to be in her former home with her favorite furnishings, today's radiance came from a different place within her. Wyman couldn't recall seeing such bliss, such peace, in her pretty features even while they'd been courting.

What can you do to maintain this harmony, this happiness?

Wyman pondered his options on the ride back to the Lambright farm, and as he and his boys helped Jerome with the livestock chores that afternoon. Clearly, this improvement in his wife's mood had nothing to do with prosperity, for her house, the barn, and the other outbuildings were sorely in need of paint and maintenance. While there were bedrooms enough to go around, they were smaller than the ones he and his kids were used to. He and Amanda had discussed what type of new cabinets and flooring she wanted as they rebuilt the Brubaker house, yet this morning's efficient, effortless breakfast had been a testimony to how well she and Jemima worked together in their careworn kitchen. Even while spending all day Saturday unpacking and settling the kids into their rooms, they had baked pies for today's common meal. Vera had made a big pan of her macaroni and cheese. . . .

“How's this feeling to you, Wyman? You look lost in thought.”

Wyman focused on Jerome as the two of them broke up some small, square bales of hay into the horses' mangers. Eddie and Pete had taken Simon outside to see the mules and the donkeys Jerome used for breeding them. “It's been quite a day,” he replied. “Not only have I gained more insight into how much adjusting Amanda did when she and the girls moved into our house, but . . . well, the service this morning and the people I met have given me a lot to think about as I repair the place in Clearwater.”

“I bet that's right. It had to rip a hole in your heart, seeing how much damage those trees did to your home,” the younger man remarked. “Now that I've sent that mule team back to its owner, I'd be happy to help with your renovations if you need me.”

“I appreciate that. And by the way,” Wyman added with a wry smile, “denki for suggesting that we bring Amanda's furniture with us. I never realized how much it meant to her.”

Jerome chuckled. “What man has ever figured out what truly makes a woman happy? That can change from one day—one hour—to the next.”

“Jah, there's that.” Wyman grabbed a bucket to fill it from the pump and then he paused, listening. “Where's that train I hear? It doesn't sound far off.”

“Cuts across the west forty, not far from Cedar Creek. If you'd follow the creek—and the tracks—through the countryside, you'd eventually end up at your place, you know.”

As the water filled his bucket, Wyman mentally tried to sketch the railroad's route from here to Clearwater. “Now why didn't I realize that? Guess I'm so used to taking the county highways or the other side roads, I don't have much reason to travel north—”

“Because it's all hills and trees. Mostly English-owned hobby farms and hunting acreage out that way,” Jerome pointed out. “Not even a feed store or any other services we Plain folks would use.”

Wyman considered this as he dumped the water into a trough and refilled his bucket. “Could you and I take a ride around this farm?” He had no idea where such a question had come from, but it seemed logical to look around now that he was going to live here for a while. “I didn't marry Amanda for her land, so I have no idea where the boundaries are or what her fields are like,” he added with a laugh.

“You betcha. We can saddle up after supper.”

The afternoon passed quickly, filled with chores. As Wyman bowed for prayer before their simple supper of soup and sandwiches, he asked God for the words that probably should have been spoken when his extended family had first gathered around the Brubaker table. He could have done several things differently when he'd brought Amanda and her girls into his home . . . yet now he felt prodded by a new motivation. The preacher's words ran repeatedly through his mind:
the
LORD
thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.
He wasn't sure why so many unusual thoughts were occurring to him today, but he took them as gifts from God. Not ideas to be dismissed.

“As I look at all of my children—and all of us adults—gathered at this table, I'm grateful that our family has come through the storm in much better condition than our home did,” he began.

Around the long table, spoons paused above soup bowls and eyes focused on him. Wyman slipped his hand over Amanda's, bolstered by the steady beat of her pulse and the love in her eyes. Was he reading his own emotions into her expression, or was his wife still aglow from the fellowship they'd shared with her friends at church?

“Even so,” Wyman continued, “this seems like a gut time to discuss remodeling our family as we rebuild our home. As I watched each of you today at church, I saw improvements in our relationships, but as your dat I need to state some expectations . . . to be sure we're all on the same page now that we're starting a new chapter as a family.”

Vera and his boys glanced warily at one another, while Amanda's girls looked apprehensive. It wasn't his intention to instill fear in their young hearts, but children often learned best when they had to account for their actions—a concept he'd let slide after Viola died. He also realized that Lizzie and the twins hadn't had a father's guidance for four years—since before Cora and Dora were born—so he hoped to guide them rather than alienate them as he spoke.

“Eddie and Pete, I was glad to see you joining in with the local folks at church and during the meal today,” he began. “Even so, several of your recent remarks—and your attitudes—have suggested rebellion rather than respect. Especially concerning Amanda.”

The boys' eyelashes lowered. They listened without comment.

“If you think you're too old to obey Amanda and me, then you're old enough to be out on your own. And while leaving home might sound tempting, be very careful about assuming that you'd be able to support yourselves,” Wyman stated firmly. “Amanda's not the mother who bore you, but she's in charge of this family now. I expect you to decide on an occupation soon, Eddie—and you, Pete, are to apply yourself at school here in Bloomingdale even though it's only temporary. I don't want to hear of any more shenanigans that upset Lizzie. And I hope she'll show you kindness and consideration as you get a taste of being the new kid in the classroom. Understand me, boys?”

Pete and Eddie nodded, while beside them, Simon smiled smugly. “Bad wabbit, Peter wabbit,” he whispered.

“And,
Simon
.” Wyman gazed at his five-year-old until the boy looked up at him. “Stop scratching on the other side of your sisters' wall with a currycomb, and making wolf noises in the night to scare them.”

As Simon looked ready to deny these escapades, Cora's and Dora's eyes widened. “I
wondered
if it was Simon!” one of them crowed.

“Jah, and we've told Mamma there's no wolf in
this
house,” her twin chimed in. Both girls looked triumphantly across the table at their mischievous brother.

“Which means you twins—and Alice Ann—will sleep in your own beds now, like big girls,” Amanda added emphatically. “And, Simon, you and I will have a chat about where Wags will spend the night, as well.”

“Gut points. I'm glad we've solved that little mystery.” Wyman took a bite of his ham sandwich, letting the kids absorb his words . . . and wonder what he might say next, about whom. He was pleased that Amanda had joined him in this discussion about discipline—and overjoyed that their bed would be for just the two of them.

He smiled at Vera then, and at Lizzie. “I enjoyed watching you girls at the meal today, talking and laughing with your friends. I hope this means you'll be more patient with each other about sharing a room—and more considerate about each other's private belongings,” he added in a purposeful tone. “Consider it practice for when you get married, because the both of you have had your own rooms for so long it'll be a real eye-opener when you have to share the space with your husbands. And share the bed.”

The girls' cheeks flushed but the glance they exchanged suggested they were already getting beyond their difficulties. “Matter of fact,” Vera said, “I've decided to buy Lizzie her own diary next time we're at the mercantile. Writing about your troubles can help you sort them out, and when you jot down the gut things that have happened, you can smile about them again when you read through your entries.”

Lizzie's grin was a sight to behold. “Denki, Vera. What a wonderful-gut idea,” she replied. “I'm lucky to have you for a big sister.”

Wyman was so pleased that the girls had reconciled, but there was another matter he needed to address. “Lizzie, I know you feel better now that you're back in Bloomingdale,” he said gently. “I hope you'll make every effort to get along with Teacher Elsie and the Clearwater scholars when we return to the other house. Do you think you can do that—especially if Pete stops pestering you?”

Lizzie let out a long sigh. “I'll try to do better. At least I've got longer dresses now, like the other girls.”

Wyman nodded. He decided not to press Vera to be more accommodating about Amanda's furniture. She had lost so many of her mother's belongings in the storm—and their kitchen and front room would be totally redecorated anyway . . . He really needed to call Amos Coblentz for a bid but for some inexplicable reason, he seemed to be dragging his feet about that.

Alice Ann's giggle coaxed Wyman back to his present purpose. She was ecstatically jamming a chunk of ham sandwich into her mouth after Amanda had cut it for her, and his toddler's affection for her new mamm delighted him. There was no point in telling Alice Ann to start talking, though, so he would touch on a couple more points and then let everyone eat in peace.

“Along this same line, I believe we should all show Jemima more patience and respect,” he went on as he smiled at Amanda's mother-in-law. “Those four pies on the counter—and all the things you bake for us—are a thoughtful way of sharing yourself. Especially since we can make them disappear as fast as you can bake them.”

Jemima's cheeks flushed as she smoothed her kapp over her steely gray hair. “What with my husband and son gone, I'm grateful that you've given me a place . . . and a way to be useful,” she murmured. “I'll try to smile more and complain less.”

Wyman nodded, pleased to hear this—and even more gratified when Amanda squeezed his hand.

Then he clapped the young man at his right on the shoulder. “And let's also express our appreciation to Jerome, who has restocked the kitchen and the fridge and done so much more for us—even before we took over his house. You're a part of our family now, too, you know.”

“Happy to help you folks out,” Jerome replied with a shrug. “Truth be told, it's awfully quiet out here with just me and the mules.”

The meal continued in silence then, yet Wyman sensed the kids were more pensive than peeved at him. As they finished the main course, Vera rose to cut the pies while Lizzie opened a flat container and began to put other treats on a plate.