“He’ll call out like that for a few minutes and then he’ll go back to sleep.”
“Really?”
Liza nodded. “Hopefully.”
Florence was silent. She didn’t want to start telling her friend about Carter and then have to leave off in the middle of it. She took the baby crying out as a sign to keep quiet about it like she’d originally thought.
Chapter 10
The next day, thanks to the conversation with Liza, Florence was ready to head up into the attic to further explore her mother’s belongings.
Her half-sisters had all gone to their friend Bliss’s house to help sort out donations for the upcoming charity auction while Wilma was lying down in her bedroom with a headache. It was the perfect time for her to creep into the attic undiscovered.
When Florence walked in, she was struck by the same musty smell from the other day. She lit the lantern that was just inside the door. The only daylight was from a small window in the roof. She walked over to the window remembering she had seen the roof of Carter’s house last time she’d been there.
On her tiptoes, she looked out. Gray and white puffy rain clouds hung low in the sky over the two properties. As she stood staring, she wondered what Carter might be doing at this very moment. He still hadn’t told her what he did for a living.
Even people from rich families had to work. Unless ... he was mega rich? But if he was, why would he be living on a farm away from everything? As much as she wanted to find out, it would mean going back there; if she did that, she didn’t know if she could find the strength to keep resisting him.
She pressed her palm against the window pane, so it looked as though she was touching Carter’s roof. It was the closest she could be and still remain safe until she figured out what to do.
After a deep breath, she headed back to discover what was packed into each of her mother’s boxes. The first one she came to was a box of clothes that smelled quite musty after having lain folded in a box for over twenty years. Then she had an idea to go through everything little by little rather than try to discover everything at once. She took hold of the letters her mother had written to Mark and Earl and put them by the door so she wouldn’t forget them. After she peeped in the top boxes, she took a small box of clothes and the small carved wooden box where her mother’s love letter had been. She snuffed out the light and made her way out of the attic.
In the safety of her bedroom, she went through everything in that box. Her mother’s clothes were the same size as hers and she guessed that she and her mother would've been the same height, whereas Wilma was much shorter. It was comforting to know that she was a similar size to her mother and that they had shared something in common. It wasn’t much, but it felt good to be the same as someone else. She didn’t want to wear her mother’s old clothes, but it was nice to see them and touch them. In a few days, she’d put them back in the attic.
Since there was no sign of Wilma getting out of bed yet, she took the small wooden box downstairs to sit in front of the fire, wondering what other secrets the box held.
She pulled out the letter on the top—the one from Gerald Braithwaite—and read through it carefully.
“How could you do this?” a voice sounded from the stillness.
Florence’s head shot up.
It was Wilma, glaring at her.
Chapter 11
Wilma stepped forward as Florence held the letter from her mother’s love-interest in her hands. Then Wilma’s gaze dropped to the wooden box. “Why are you going through that box?”
She wasn’t sure why Wilma was so mad. Didn’t she have a right to go through her mother’s things?
“I just wanted to see what was there.” Florence watched Wilma’s cheeks and the tip of her nose turn beet red.
“What have you got in your hands?” she snapped, making Florence feel like a naughty two-year-old who’d been caught drawing on a wall.
“It’s just a letter.”
Wilma stepped forward and in an unusual and uncharacteristic rage, snatched it from Florence’s hands and read it. Then she looked down her nose at Florence. “How could you? How could you make a mockery out of me?”
“Out of you? It’s got nothing to do with you.”
“It has everything to do with me. It wonders me that you were snooping in the attic without asking me, too.” In an apparent outrage, Wilma lunged forward and tossed the letter into the roaring flames of the fireplace.
Florence let out a yelp and ran forward and made efforts to save it. She took hold of the poker and tried to move it away, but she couldn’t. All she’d managed to rescue was a corner of the paper that had no writing on it at all. The piece had fluttered to the floor at her feet. She leaned down, picked it up and placed it in the palm of her hand.
As she stood there staring at the corner of the letter, Mamm scolded her once more. “What’s gotten into you, Florence?”
Florence looked over at her stepmother and wasn’t going to back down. Not when she wasn’t in the wrong. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“Don’t go sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
“I could say the same to you.” Florence was never normally rude, but she was shocked to the core by what Wilma had done.
“Florence Baker, if you weren’t as old as you are I’d send you to your room.”
“And if you weren’t older than me and my stepmother besides, I’d have a few things to say to you as well.” Florence tossed the fragment of paper into the fire. It might as well be lost too. Without words, it was no good.
The women then stared at one another.
They’d never had cross words like that before—ever. After a while, Wilma turned and walked into the kitchen and Florence sat back down staring at the fire.
Now she knew why Dat had never mentioned her mother in front of Wilma. She obviously was extremely jealous of her mother—unreasonably so.
When Wilma stomped up the stairs a few moments later, Florence was so disturbed and upset that she ran out of the house. This was the first argument she’d ever had with Wilma. The only place of solace and comfort was in the midst of her orchard where no one would see her.
Once she was well away from the house, she held onto a tree and sobbed. Her very life’s foundations were crumbling around her. She didn’t fit in with her father’s new family, as much as she’d tried she’d always felt an outsider. Now, she knew exactly why Mark and Earl had left.
Wilma had been a mother to her and mostly they’d had the same view of things. Sure, they didn’t agree about everything but nothing had ever before caused Wilma to have an outburst like she’d just had.
Why couldn’t Wilma see that it was reasonable she go through her mother’s things and read her mother’s old letters?
Why was it so bothersome to Wilma?
She knew she would feel better if she talked to Carter. Just being near him would make her feel whole again. He would agree with her, Florence was sure about that. Any reasonable person would be able to see her point of view.
Now that she’d given herself permission to see him, she couldn’t wait. Instead of walking, she ran in the direction of his house. Once she got to the last tree of the orchard’s border, his house came into view.
She looked and stopped still.
His car wasn’t there and that meant he wasn’t home.
She was devastated, and knew in her heart she shouldn’t have waited so long to see him. What if he’d left and she’d never see him again? Tears spilled down her cheeks. He was the only happiness she had. She couldn’t lose him. With the end of her apron, she wiped her eyes.
Life was hard sometimes, and lately Florence always felt like she was making the wrong decisions.
Pushing Carter out of her mind—for now—she headed back to the house.
With her mother having gone back to bed and her sisters out, it was a perfect opportunity to visit Ada and try to find out more about her mother. First, though, she grabbed the
box and tiptoed up to her room to put it where Wilma wouldn't see it. She’d look through it later.
It was more than clear she was never going to find out anything from Wilma.
Chapter 12
Florence knocked on Ada’s door and waited a moment. When no one came to the door, she called out, “It’s me, Ada. It’s Florence.”
Ada opened the door and looked surprised to see her. “Sorry, I was just out back. Were you knocking for long?”
“Not long.”
She glanced over at the buggy. “You’re here without Wilma?”
“Jah, she has a bit of a headache.”
“Ach, that’s no good. She’s getting a few of those lately. She’d get a few more if Cherish was still here.” Ada chortled. “Is there anything I can do for her?”
“She’ll be fine. She’s in bed and the girls have gone into town to get a few things, cotton and wool, I think. They’re making things for the charity auction and also, Mamm thought we should get in early and start making baby clothes for Mercy and Honor’s kinner when they arrive.” Florence giggled. “They’ve been busy and staying up late at night. It has been fun.”
“Jah, and that’s a good idea.”
“I just wanted to talk to you about something if I might?”
“Of course.” She stepped back and opened the door wider. “Come through to the kitchen. I was just cooking, but that can wait.”
“I won’t hold you up long.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got all day. Samuel’s at the Wilson’s helping with their fence.”
Florence followed her through to the kitchen.
“Can I get you some meadow tea?”
“Nee, denke. I’ve just had something at home.”
Once they were both seated at the round wooden table, Ada asked, “What was it you wanted to ask me?”
“I wanted to ask you about my mudder?”
Ada almost choked. “Your mudder?”
“Jah. I wanted to know what she was like.”
Ada stared at her for a moment, and then a smile appeared around her lips as she leaned back. “She was a whole lot like you.”
“You mean in looks?”
“Jah.”
It pleased Florence to know she looked like someone. She’d figured from her Mamm’s clothes that they were the same size at least. “Were my parents in love?”
“As far as I know.” Her face screwed up. “Why do you ask?”
“I just feel I’ve come to the age where I want to know more about her. No one has ever told me anything about her. Everyone’s been quiet and it’s like there’s a veil of secrecy surrounding her. It’s starting to annoy me.”
“Have you asked Wilma?”
“Nee, not straight out.”
“Why not?”
“I just feel she'd get upset.” She didn’t want to tell Ada about the tantrum her stepmother had just thrown, tossing the letter written to her mother into the fire. Then Florence realized that Wilma probably had thought it was a love letter from her father to her mother and maybe that was why she was so upset. “I just get the impression Wilma is uncomfortable that Dat had been married before—maybe. That’s why I’m asking you what you know about her and what she was like.”
“She was a gut mudder. She loved her kinner and she was a pleasant woman.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me about her?” Florence hoped to find out about this other man.
“Not really. She was just the same as any other woman in the community.”
“She wasn’t a good friend of yours?”
“Nee, she wasn’t.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Not really. I had my friends and she had her friends.”
Florence took a deep breath. “And what about before my mudder married my vadder?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Did she have any other suitors—any other boyfriends?”
“That’s going back a bit far for me to remember.” She tapped her forehead. “Let me see now.”
“Think hard. It’s important.”
“Nee, I can’t think of anyone else. Why does it matter so much?”
“It’s just that I wanted to know about her.”
“Are you thinking about Ezekiel again?”
“Ezekiel?” The question came as a shock. “I’m not thinking of him at all.”
“I thought maybe you were thinking about how many boyfriends your mudder had before your vadder so you’ll know how many boyfriends you should have before the right one comes along or something.”
Florence shook her head.
“Don’t mind me.”
“It’s just that I wanted to know about her because she was my Mamm.”
“I still think Ezekiel would’ve made you a good husband.”
“Yes, you could be right about that. He might have made me a good husband, but it just wasn’t to be.”
“You could’ve tried.”
“Nee, Ada, he ended things with me. I was willing to try. Remember? I even—”
“Jah, I know, but it’s just such a shame.”
Florence couldn’t agree verbally, so she just nodded to keep Ada happy. “So, Mamm didn’t have any other boyfriends besides Dat that you remember?”
She shook her head. “Nee.”
“Oh. Do you know anyone who’d remember more about her?”
“Not really. She was an outsider, so that’s why—”
“What? 'An outsider?' You mean an Englischer?”
“Jah, that’s right.”
“Oh! I don’t know what to say. I never knew anything about that. So that’s why I don’t have grandparents, cousins, aunts, or anything on my mudder’s side?”
“That’s right.”
“I never even thought … I feel so silly. I mean, I bet I do have all those relatives, but I just don’t know them yet.”
“Yet? What’s the point?”
“They’re relatives.”
“Relatives of a woman you don’t even know.”
“I do know her. She’s my mudder.”
Ada stayed quiet and looked at her with sympathy.
“Did anyone say to keep this a secret from me and my brothers?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Nee.”
“That still explains the secrecy I suppose. She joined the community for love. How romantic.” Florence couldn’t help but smile. Maybe her mother had joined for some other reason, but she wanted to believe it was for love. “Denke, Ada.”
“I didn’t tell you anything.”
Florence giggled. “You did so. You told me more than anyone else has. I wonder if the bishop could tell me more.”
“I’d say he’d be the one.”
“You’re right.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like something to eat?”
“I don’t want to hold you up.”
“I made a batch of peanut cookies this morning.”
Florence loved Ada’s cookies. “I might try one, or maybe two.”
Ada stood up and walked over to the countertop and lifted a tea-towel. “They’re still a little bit warm.”
“Yum.”
Florence stayed there for a while longer, chatting with Ada to avoid going home and facing Wilma.
Chapter 13
Over the next few days things didn’t improve with Florence and Wilma. Her stepmother said nothing at all about the letter or her fit of temper. Then the day of the charity auction arrived.
Every time Florence had gone to see Carter, his car hadn’t been there. That had made her feel on-edge and nervous.
Had she left things so late that the decision over Carter had been taken out of her hands completely? Not to decide is to decide. She'd once heard someone say that, and now she could clearly see the truth in it.
Florence wasn’t comfortable about her mother going to the auction with Levi. He was clearly head over heels about her and Florence wondered if her stepmother might marry him, if h
e asked, just to keep him happy. That was the kind of thing she’d do. She always wanted to keep people happy and not upset anybody.
Florence intended to wait for a quiet moment and then she was going to ask Wilma what her thoughts were about Levi, but finding a quiet moment in their household wasn’t always so easy.
If Florence made the first move to talk with her stepmother, maybe it would break the tension between them.
All the girls were now leaning on the porch railing waiting for Levi and Bliss to appear. They were ten minutes late and Florence glanced over at Mamm, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate his tardiness. She could tell by Wilma's upturned nose and pinched-looking face that she wasn’t happy.
Still, Mamm probably wouldn’t say anything to Levi. She’d keep it to herself and it would be one silent strike against him. Florence felt slightly wicked acknowledging that she was pleased about that.
Mamm had never shown interest in another man since Dat had gone home to Gott. Levi was the one doing all the chasing. Florence often heard the girls giggling between themselves about their mother and Levi. They certainly didn’t seem concerned and they’d never, to her knowledge, discussed that they might have a new stepfather.
Levi and Bliss eventually turned up fifteen minutes late.
Bliss jumped down from the buggy and ran over to greet the girls. Florence walked over to her waiting buggy and got in. As she collected the reins in her hands, she stared at Levi. Mamm sat in the seat beside him and Florence watched as Levi’s mouth moved up and down making all kinds of apologies.
Mamm smiled and nodded and seemed to be telling him it was okay, but it wasn’t. Not when the girls still had to set up their stall with the apple goods they were donating. The only reasonable excuse for Mamm would be if someone was dead, or a tree had fallen down on the road and blocked the way. No flimsy excuse would do.
Once the girls were in Florence’s buggy, Favor yelled. “Let’s go!”
“Okay, but not so much screeching. Good morning, Bliss.”
Amish Joy (The Amish Bonnet Sisters Book 4) Page 5
