Amanda Weds a Good Man (27 page)

Wyman's breath left him like the air leaking from a balloon. “Jah, a lot depends on them saying yes,” he admitted. “But I'm prepared to sell my land at less than its current market value, if his family wants it. Ray's more than my partner. He's been my best friend all my life. And in many ways, he's a better businessman than I.”

A grin twitched on Wyman's lips then, as though he'd been saving the punch line of the best joke he'd ever heard. “And can't you just imagine the look on Uriah's face when he learns we've sold out to
Mennonites
?”

Amanda laughed so loudly she clapped her hands over her mouth to keep from waking the children. “Oh, but, Wyman, you're pinning your hopes on a mighty big yes,” she pointed out. “And you know Uriah will rant and rail against you. He'll accuse you of running from your responsibilities to your district—and to God.”

Her husband's expression grew serious again. “There was a time I would've followed that logic—that absolute black-and-white Uriah demands of the faithful,” he said somberly. “But we have every right to live on your land, in your district, Amanda.

“And truth be told,” he continued, leaning closer to her, “when Eddie told me he didn't want to join the church because of Uriah's attitude, that's all I needed to hear. I don't want to lose my son because the bishop has turned him against the Old Order faith. And Pete would be jumping the fence right behind him.”

“Jah, I can see that happening.” Amanda sipped her cocoa, wondering what other stumbling blocks she should point up, even as she felt ecstatic about Wyman's ideas. Who could have believed he would leave the land that had belonged to his family for so many generations? “So . . . if the Fishers don't want your farm, what will you do?”

“Well, since Ray owns the parcel the elevator's on, I'll give him the opportunity to buy the pasture for Trevor's cows—and whatever else he might want, since it adjoins his property,” he reasoned aloud. “Then I'll put the rest of the place up for sale at full value—which is very high, considering the rise in real estate prices these past few years. And if English buy it, so be it. God is still at work in all our lives.”

In her mind, Amanda had been accounting for each section of Brubaker property as he'd mentioned it. “But what about the house? It's going to cost a pretty penny for the repairs—”

“Those Coblentz fellows from Cedar Creek are to come out tomorrow afternoon, to work up a bid. I wanted you to be there for that, Amanda—to have your say about the kitchen, especially,” he explained as he clasped her hands. “But then it hit me: what if the Fishers
did
buy the place? Trevor and his bride might have a different idea of what they want in a house, so why shouldn't they decide about the remodeling? I'd lower the price of the place to allow for their additional expense.”

“Oh, my,” Amanda murmured. “I've never had the chance to choose kitchen cabinets or—and—and I don't need to! I love the kitchen here just as it is,” she blurted. “Maybe letting Trevor—or whoever buys your farm—decide on the remodeling would sweeten the deal for them. I think that's a gut idea on your part.”

As Wyman studied her in the lamplight, Amanda wished she'd thought before she'd spoken so hastily. It sounded selfish to point out that she'd never had a say about how her rooms were arranged. How many women did she know who
had
remodeled their homes?

Yet her husband kept hold of her hands, smiling gently. “You, dear wife, deserve far more than new cabinets. Every time I pass through this house, I see improvements I want to make for you—and if we stay here, I
will
. But let's deal with one situation at a time.”

“Jah, you've got a lot on your plate right now.” Amanda gazed at the large, work-worn hands that enveloped hers, grateful that Wyman was so patient. Come to think of it, hadn't he changed his entire mind-set? There was a time when he would never have allowed Brubaker land to pass into other hands—he would have been more likely to insist they sell
her
farm. This unexpected conversation was indeed turning up fresh soil, like a horse-drawn plow tilling the land to ready it for planting new seed.

Amanda closed her eyes, settling her thoughts. “So what's your plan for tomorrow? If you want me to go along, I will.”

“I married such a wise, accommodating woman. Best thing I've ever done, too.” Wyman thought for a moment. “How about if I talk with Ray and Trevor first thing? They'll need to put pencil to paper and pray on such a major decision—but I want Amos and his son to look the place over so they can put
their
pencils to paper, too. No matter who buys the place, I'll either need to complete the rebuilding or figure that cost into my selling price. Does that make sense?”

“Jah. And I think you should deal with the Fishers and the carpenters man-to-man,” she said. “Your discussions will be freer that way. Less complicated.”

Wyman raised her hands to his lips and kissed them tenderly. “You're probably right, Amanda. Never let me forget that, will you?”

W
hen Wyman sat down to breakfast Tuesday morning, he felt like a new man. He hadn't gotten much rest, and his muscles still ached from cleaning up storm debris, yet sharing his thoughts with Amanda had changed his life. Far into the night, they had whispered ideas and shared opinions as they cuddled in bed. . . .

Yet as he watched his wife turn the bacon that crackled in the cast-iron skillet, Wyman grinned over a fresh secret. Was there no end to the surprises that fell into place, once he'd decided to sell his land—for her, mostly? He felt joyful and boyish, as though springs of hope and fresh enthusiasm were bubbling to the surface after being submerged for most of his life.

While Jemima and Vera placed bowls of hash browns, simmered peppers and onions, cheese sauce, and other makings for breakfast haystacks on the table, the rest of the kids and Jerome took their seats. Wyman winked at Vera and she smiled back.

Simon's eyes widened as he surveyed the table. “Wow, this is a feast!”

Wyman ruffled his boy's thick brown hair. “You're right, son. We're lucky to be living with women who're such gut cooks. So let's say grace before it gets cold.”

As he bowed his head, Wyman asked God for good timing and the right words. He and Amanda weren't telling anyone of their decision to stay in Bloomingdale until the Fishers responded to his offer. But that didn't mean he couldn't have some fun making other changes.

“I'll be heading to Clearwater by myself today,” he announced as he spread a layer of hash browns on his plate. “What with cleaning up all the debris, I'd forgotten that Ray and I have a grain shipment going out this morning. So, while I tend to elevator business, you get a break from working at the house.”

“My prayers are answered,” Eddie murmured. Then he looked up from the biscuits that would make the base of his haystack. “No disrespect intended, understand.”

“And none taken. You've worked mighty hard these past few days, son.” Wyman fought a grin as he spooned peppers and onions over his potatoes. “A little bird tells me, however, that your mamm would like the inside of this house painted before winter. I thought you might be interested in doing that instead of any more work in Clearwater.”

Eddie's eyebrows shot up, but not nearly as high as his wife's did.

“Oh, but that would be a wonderful-gut—” Amanda looked down the table. “I don't suppose
you
were that little bird, Vera?”

Their eldest daughter chuckled, and beside her, Lizzie's face lit up. “And now
my
prayers are answered,” she said. “What do you think, Vera? Yellow for our room again, or cream? Or how about pale blue?”

“I want leapfrog green!” Simon declared.

“Pink!” Cora cried out.

“Pink like our favorite dresses,” Dora agreed.

“Pink! Pink!
Pink!
” Alice Ann crowed as she kicked in her high chair.

The kitchen rang with an amazed silence as everyone gazed at the littlest Brubaker. Amanda let out an excited sob. “And what did you just say, missy?” she whispered as she rose to lift Alice Ann to her shoulder.

Wyman sat speechless. Never mind that Amish folks tended toward white or pale yellow walls to lighten their homes. If Alice Ann was talking at last, he would paint her room any color she wanted as a way to celebrate this long-awaited event. “My prayers are answered, too,” he murmured. “Thanks be to God.”

Alice Ann, aware she was the center of attention, giggled as she wrapped her chubby arms around Amanda's arms. “Pink,” she repeated in the sweetest little voice. “I wuv pink. And I wuv you, too, Mamma.”

Wyman didn't bother to blink back his tears as he drank in the sight of his precious toddler clinging to his new wife. He stood to place a hand on her tiny back, awash in the giddy wonder that—for whatever reason—Alice Ann had finally found words. The shock of losing her birth mother had apparently lifted like fog from a pond. Was it because they had moved into a house she didn't associate with Viola?

“Well, now,” Jemima said as she swiped at her eyes. “Not even half-finished with our breakfast and we've witnessed a miracle. It's been quite a day already.”

As the meal resumed, the other kids took turns talking to Alice Ann until she had said every one of their names. Her sudden speech defied logic . . . and suggested that she'd been practicing words when no one could hear. To Wyman it was yet another sign that God was at work in their lives—and that He was favoring them here, in this home, for a reason.

And Wyman knew better than to ignore such a gift. After a few moments, he turned to Eddie again. “Well, son, your littlest sister stole our thunder—”

“Girls are gut at that,” Pete remarked. He piled scrambled eggs on his hash browns and then drowned them with cheese sauce.

“—but what do you think about painting for us?” Wyman continued. “You did a fine job at the other house. And if you want helpers—”

“I'm a mess with paint, but I'm real gut at moving furniture,” Jerome volunteered. “What if we went to the mercantile today for the paint, and I'll get the feed supplement I'm needing for my mules?”

Eddie was trying not to seem excited about this new job. “Long as I don't have to paint Pete's and my room pink, I'm gut with doing it.”

“Denki, son. The Lord loves a cheerful giver.” Wyman glanced at Amanda, delighted that he'd surprised her—even if Alice Ann had eclipsed him. “Ask your mamm about her color preferences, and which rooms she wants you to start with. Jerome can show you what ladders and drop cloths might already be here, and you can pick up everything else you need at Sam's store.”

“Too bad I've got school,” Pete murmured.

“Jah, too bad,” Eddie echoed smugly. “You'll grow out of it.”

“I can help, though!” Simon piped up. “I'm close to the floor, so I can paint down low.”

When Eddie looked ready to object, Jerome beat him to the punch. “You and I can find plenty of ways to help out, little buddy. After all, when the furniture's been moved out of Eddie's way, the donkeys and horses and mules still need to be fed and exercised. And you know those mares I showed you, with their sides sticking out?”

Simon nodded eagerly, his forkful of eggs suspended over his plate.

“They'll have their babies any day now,” Jerome said, his excitement rising. “And if you're around when those mules are born, they'll bond with your scent and your voice. And come time to work with them, they'll already trust you, Simon. That'll be mighty special, ain't so?”

Wyman considered Jerome's way with Simon yet another blessing, a sign that his family was meant to be here on this farm.

•   •   •

S
ure enough, Wyman's talk with Ray and Trevor went well. He would wait patiently for the Fishers' response, for they had many things to consider before buying his land.

He was impressed with Amos and Owen Coblentz, too. And when they presented their bid by week's end, he would share it with Ray and Trevor.

Wyman then stopped by the bank to arrange for a survey of his family's farm, as a necessary part of selling it. Tyler had pointed out that they could find basic legal forms online and at the bank, since they wouldn't be going through a realtor—and meanwhile, Ray's younger son had helped Wyman find some surprises for Amanda, as well. Computers and the Internet amazed him, even if he didn't want to get personally involved with them.

On his way home, he stopped by the Cedar Creek Mercantile to pay for Eddie's paint. He chuckled at the sight of James Graber leaning on the checkout counter as he gazed at Abby. At the jingle of the bell over the door, they sprang apart, laughing.

“So have you lovebirds set your wedding date?” It tickled Wyman that instead of envying James his romantic notions, he was full of them himself. He hadn't felt this young in a long, long time.

“Matter of fact, we have!” Abby chirped. “And you'd better come celebrate with us on Thursday, the nineteenth of this month, too.”

“Wouldn't miss it. Congratulations.” Wyman pulled out his wallet. “I've come to settle up for the paint and supplies Eddie bought, and whatever else Amanda might've had him fetch. And . . . was some of that paint pink?”

Abby laughed, clapping her hands together. “Jah, and when Gail and I heard about Alice Ann talking, we jumped up and down. Wyman, this is such gut news!”

“I can't explain it, except to say that with God, all things are possible.” Wyman itched to share the other major developments he and Amanda were setting into motion, but such announcements would be shared with his family first. Perhaps by Sunday, when the Grabers and the Lambrights were coming out to the house . . .

“But you're too late with your money,” Abby stated matter-of-factly. “The bill's been paid in full.”

Wyman frowned. “Sam will
not
cover the expense for all that paint.”

“Nope, he won't,” Abby replied. “But when my brother saw how organized Eddie was about choosing his tools, and how eager he was to get started at your place, Sam hired him to paint the inside of the mercantile.”

Wyman gazed around the huge, two-story store. “That might take a while, because Eddie prefers to work by himself and—”

“Sam said he didn't care how long Eddie took, he just wanted a gut job.” Abby's brown eyes sparkled. “He's tickled to be giving a young fellow work he doesn't want to do himself, you see.”

“Seems to me your boy might be starting up a trade,” James remarked. “The folks who see Eddie painting while they shop will recommend him to their neighbors. And come to think of it,” he said as he winked at Abby, “our house across the road could use fresh walls, too. So see there? He'll have to get a calendar to keep track of his jobs.”

Wyman shook his head. “First Alice Ann and now Eddie—two miracles in one day,” he murmured. “But who paid for the paint?”

Abby's smile grew even wider. “Eddie asked Sam if he would consider the paint and supplies as an advance on his wages for painting the store, and Sam thought that was a fine idea. They started up an account in Eddie's name, and he's gut to go. I'd say you have an exceptional son there, Wyman. I was mighty proud of him when he and Jerome left here.”

“Who could've seen
that
coming?” Wyman was so pleased he slapped the countertop. “I'd better head home to congratulate my son, the painter. He must take after his mamm, eh? Both of them.”

Wyman clucked to the horse and headed into Bloomingdale. First he stopped at Lamar Lapp's home to consult with the bishop about a couple of things. Then, as the buggy rolled down the unpaved lane toward Amanda's old white farmhouse, he couldn't stop grinning. Had there ever been a day like this one? Even though awaiting the final decision from the Fishers—and the bid from Amos Coblentz—might keep him awake for the next night or two, he was the happiest man alive. He had the dearest wife on the face of the earth, and his kids were getting beyond their grief, growing again as they meshed with Amanda's girls. Life just didn't get any better.

•   •   •

W
hen Abby saw Wyman's buggy pull onto the blacktop, she leaned across the counter to grasp James's sturdy hands. These moments without anyone else in the store were rare, and she enjoyed finding unexpected times and places to express her affection. “I love you,” she whispered.

“Do you, now?” James gripped her fingers. “You just wait, Abby. Come November nineteenth, I'm going to show you a whole new meaning of love—and excitement, too. Are you ready for that, bride of mine?”

Oh, but she got a shimmery feeling when James talked that way. “For sure and for certain I am,” she replied. “And speaking of excitement—is it just me, or was Wyman a man afire today? I've not seen him looking so happy, even on his wedding day.”

“Just goes to show you that love improves with age, even if it's only been about a month since he hitched up with Amanda,” James remarked. “Didn't we know she'd be gut for him?”

“Jah, but what's going on if they're painting the house in Bloomingdale?” she asked in a speculative tone. “That man's keeping secrets behind those handsome brown eyes, mark my word.”

James placed his hand on his chest and let out a playfully dramatic sigh. “Ah, maybe someday you'll say that about me and my eyes, Abby—and I'll keep you guessing about
my
secrets, too. Every one of them will be something wonderful involving you, after all.”

While she loved their teasing chitchat, Abby had been hoping to discuss something more important before Wyman had interrupted them, and this seemed like an opportune moment. She focused on James, choosing her words carefully. “And after we marry, how will you feel about me working here in the store? And continuing with my Stitch in Time business?”

James's brows rose at the change in her mood. “Honey-girl, I want you to be happy—”

“But you
know
Sam will insist that I stay home and start our family,” Abby said in a rising voice. “I've seen how Barbara's and Amanda's jobs have caused them problems, so you and I need to figure out how we'll handle this issue.”

James looked down at their entwined hands. “The way you've expressed your question tells me
your
answer to it,” he said with a little laugh. “But your heart's in the right place, Abby, and so are your priorities. When the time comes for you to stay home—with our babies, or with my parents—you'll do that. I've never doubted it.”

Abby blinked. While she hadn't figured James would raise his voice or put his foot down, his rock-solid faith in her touched something deep in her heart. “Well,
that
simplifies things,” she murmured. “This matter's been on my mind a lot lately—”