A Family for Gracie

by Amy Lillard

  Gracie cuddled Baby Grace against her chest and gave her room—their room—a hard once-over. Nothing was lacking. Bed, mirror, chest of drawers, crib, chair, nightstand, lamp—though nightstand was a kind word for the tiny square shelf barely big enough to hold the lamp. Nothing was lacking but nothing was striking either.

  She felt a little like that girl in the Englisch fairy tale she had read once when she was younger. She had sneaked the book into the far corner of the library and devoured it right there on the carpet. Something about the cover drew her in. Wasn’t that the way with books? But she had known from the start that her parents wouldn’t approve. But she had to read it.

  Now she had something in common with Cinderella. There were no evil stepsisters or stepmothers in her life, but she was sort of tucked away to be forgotten until she was needed. She wasn’t positive, but she was pretty certain that was not how a healthy Amish marriage should be, even one that was for the sake of children. And she was also certain that day one of the marriage was not the right time to bring it all up.

  “One day,” she murmured into Baby Grace’s hair. “One day soon.”

  * * *

  She couldn’t ever remember feeling so out of place and awkward in a space that was supposed to be her home. After she had changed Baby Grace’s diaper she had dug around in drawers and found one of those newfangled baby carriers that was something akin to a bedsheet with a jumbo safety pin to hold everything in place. She read the instructions and figured out how to work the contraption and only after four tries.

  Baby Grace seemed to like her new vantage point and it freed up Gracie’s hands for other chores. She was fairly certain that most brides didn’t come home and immediately start sweeping and reorganizing cabinets. But she needed to get a feel for what was in the house so she would know what they would need when she went to the store.

  But that could wait for later when the baby went down for a nap. Now it was time for a walk around the property, a look at the garden, and a check in at the little shop up near the road.

  The garden plot was pretty standard. Big enough for a young family of six, but now they were seven and growing. She would most likely need to double the size by next year. This year, however, a couple more rows should suffice. And she needed to get started on planting as soon as possible. Tomorrow would be great, but Monday at the latest.

  The little red shop was built out of one of the simple sheds that Abner Gingerich made. It was a staple for his business. People could do almost anything with one of his sheds since it was basically a box with a floor, a door, and a roof. Something told her this one hadn’t been used in a long time. She hadn’t noticed or heard anyone say that Beth Byler wasn’t opening her shop this year, but now that she was gone, it was sort of a moot point.

  A rusty-looking padlock held the door closed and kept out visitors, but if Gracie knew anything at all . . .

  Careful not to bang the baby’s head against one of the two small windows the shop had, Gracie lifted onto her tiptoes and ran her fingers along the edge of the window trim. Jah. There it was. The key. Well, a key, she just assumed it was the key she needed. Why would it not be?

  The door creaked when she opened it, further testament that the little shop had been closed for a while and certainly longer than the three months since Beth passed. But that didn’t mean a whole lot, since Beth had been pregnant and taking care of four rowdy boys. Still, these shops they sported in front of their property were the way most made ends meet.

  A cloud of dust poofed from over the door as she stepped inside. She waved it away from her nose and the baby’s and tried not to sneeze. How long had the place sat unused? Longer than she had first imagined.

  She took a minute, blinking to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light inside the shed. The two small windows were opposite each other; their placement would add both light and a breeze as the summer heated up. But mostly a breeze.

  Gracie left the door open and eased into the shop. There was a faint smell inside like rotting plants and melted candle wax. A strange combination for sure. But once her eyes had adjusted she could see the cause. The vegetable bins had been cleaned out, but judging by the stains in the wood, not before the produce turned. Each bin was carefully labeled: cucumbers, tomatoes, squash, okra, potatoes, green beans. Not a great offering but enough to bring in a little extra. On the far wall, the bins had been replaced by a flat table with packages of... she moved closer to inspect them. The cellophane baggies were tied with tiny pieces of raffia, but inside the contents were nothing more than misshapen blobs—blue, green, purple. Once upon a time they had most likely been hand-dipped candles. Some of the transparent lumps might have been glycerin soap. But the Southern heat had taken its toll and reduced the product to nothing more than a glob of wax in a bag. But Gracie knew one thing: Whoever made them had taken care to make them attractive. Each one had a handwritten tag with the scent clearly labeled and a tiny image drawn to illustrate. A strawberry for the strawberry scent, a pine cone for the pine scent, and on down the line.

  “What are you doing?”

  Gracie screamed and whirled around, one hand bracing the baby’s head instinctively. The other she pressed to her pounding heart. “Matthew!” she gasped. “You scared me.”

  “Obviously.”

  Not I’m sorry, forgive me, or I didn’t mean to. He had been the epitome of a gentleman all morning long, but now he seemed . . . angry.

  He raised a brow as if waiting for something. Oh, for me to answer him.

  “I, uh, I just came out to see what I would need to do to get the shop running this season.” She looked around her at all the ruined candles and soaps and the many shelves coated in a thick layer of dust. “It’s going to be some work, but I think we can handle it.” She patted the baby’s bottom and smiled.

  Matthew didn’t smile in return. He just stood there, staring, looking as if he wanted to say something but was trying to find the right words. The words to express his anger? Or perhaps to keep from sounding so angry. She had no idea, but for a brief moment she wondered if he had that disease she had heard about where people had wide mood swings and could be happy one minute and then incredibly sad the next. Except Matthew only ever looked moderately happy, if at all.

  “You’re going to spoil her,” he said with a terse nod toward Baby Grace.

  Gracie ran a loving hand around the curve that was the baby’s back and bottom, so snug in the carrier. “I just want her to get used to me.”

  “She looks okay to me.”

  And then it occurred to her. He was jealous because the baby was always crying around him. She had to say, if he went around with the same sourpuss attitude all the time, no wonder the baby sobbed when he came near.

  “We’re bonding.” She held her ground. She wasn’t going to apologize for taking care of his daughter. Wasn’t that one of the main reasons why they got married in the first place? The marriage wasn’t even twelve hours old and he was already regretting it?

  Matthew shook his head as if he wasn’t sure what to make of it all. “You don’t have to open the shop this year.” His voice was gruff, gritty like sandpaper.

  “I don’t mind. It’ll give the kids something to do this summer.”

  “You don’t have to,” he said again.

  But she was already on a roll. “I figure we can keep the vegetables here, but over here I’ll put some of our lotions and soaps. Not many, since I don’t want to damage sales fro—”

  “I don’t want you to, okay?” This time his voice was closer to a roar.

  Gracie stopped and stared at him, her arms still raised in her animated gesture of what they were going to do to the shop.

  Even Baby Grace stared at him wide-eyed, but at least he didn’t send her into tears again.

  “I mean”—he lowered his voice and cleared his throat—“I don’t want you to feel obligated to take up the business.”

  But she had a feeling there was more to it than that.

/>   “But we can use the money, jah?”

  He nodded, though she could see his reluctance.

  “Then we should open the shop.”

  He grunted something, then turned on his heel and stalked out of the building.

  Gracie watched him go. Something was up with him. He was a long way from the man she got lost with on a country road just days ago. But she was in this marriage now. For better or worse and everything in between. And she was going to find out exactly what it was.

  * * *

  She finished her tour of the house and property just in time to cook supper. Baby Grace was happy to be in the playpen as long as she could see Gracie. Once she was out of her line of vision, the baby started to cry. Gracie had yet to figure out what that was all about, but she would. There was still time.

  After supper, she put the baby to bed, helped the boys get washed up, and everyone gathered downstairs so Matthew could read from the Bible.

  This. This was what she had been waiting for, this family time. So her marriage wasn’t conventional. So the boys squirmed and pinched each other as they listened, but somehow managed to stop every time their father looked up. So what if it wasn’t exactly picture-perfect. This was her family now, and she loved them.

  Yes, that was true. She had already fallen in love with the boys, and Baby Grace could capture anyone’s heart in a second.

  Just . . . Matthew.

  This was day one. And she was expecting too much, but she felt she could love him. Right up until the time he walked into the shop with his angry eyes and dark scowl. It was as if he knew he had the power to scare people and he pulled it out whenever he needed it. But why? Why would he need to scare her? Why was he so adamant about not having the shop open? Most of the farms around there depended on the money brought in from sales to make ends meet. It wasn’t like Ohio, and certainly not like what she had seen of Lancaster County, but they did all right. They had their share of Englischers who came out to buy pickles, jam, and sauerkraut as well as the ones who wanted fresh produce or who sent handmade soaps and lotions away to friends who didn’t live near an Amish community. She had heard them talk. They all thought it was quaint. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. But no one could dispute the fact that it was necessary.

  Love him or not, she had promised to be his wife. And yet he seemed to want to take all that away from her. Why?

  Matthew closed his Bible, and the boys groaned.

  Only then did his words register. Time for bed. She had been so lost in thought that she missed what he read.

  The boys dutifully placed a kiss on her cheek and trudged up the stairs.

  “Does anyone want to be tucked in tonight?”

  “Jah, danki.” Benjamin ducked his head as he said the words, bashful and hopeful all at the same time. He was the sensitive one of the bunch, and she suspected he missed his mother most of all.

  The other boys waved away her offer, citing reasons like I’m too big and That’s for babies. But not Benjamin.

  “All right,” she said. “Get changed into your nightclothes and brush your teeth. I’ll be up in a moment.” She wasn’t going to take their rebuff personally. Maybe they did feel too big to be tucked in. Or maybe that hadn’t been a part of their previous nighttime routine. She couldn’t expect them to accept her as their mamm on the first night. All things in time, Eunice always said.

  Thinking of Eunice made her a bit homesick, but there was no looking back now. She pushed thoughts of her loved ones away and gathered up the little bits that boys seemed to trail behind them: a sock, a piece of string, a couple of twigs, and half a button.

  “You should make them come back and pick all that up.” Matthew’s voice was quiet, and unreadable.

  “No sense being a hardnose straight off.”

  “It’s your call.” Matthew shrugged.

  At least that was. Everything else was still up for debate.

  She gathered up someone’s errant shoe. Who knew where the mate was.

  “About earlier,” he started.

  She shook her head. The atmosphere had turned uncomfortable once again. She didn’t want to hear him say he was sorry, because she was fairly certain she was going to be dealing with his mood swings for many days, weeks, even months to come.

  Lord, give me patience.

  “Don’t,” she said, unwilling to say more, yet thankful nothing else was necessary.

  He sat there in silence for a moment, then finally gave a quick nod. But he didn’t meet her gaze. And she didn’t know what to make of it all. She supposed she needed to be just as patient with him as he would need to be with her. The situation was unusual and uncomfortable from both sides.

  She watched him for a moment, trying to figure out what was going through his mind, then she gave up, got herself an oil lamp, and headed for the stairs.

  There were three bedrooms upstairs, though the boys only occupied two. The third was used for storage and would come in handy when—if more children came along.

  She poked her head in the first doorway, finding Stephen and Henry crawling into bed. “Teeth brushed?” she asked.

  “Jah,” they answered in return.

  She gave them a nod. “Lights off then. See you in the morning.” Then she eased out of the room and closed the door behind her.

  Across the hall Thomas was crawling into bed while Benjamin waited patiently for her to come tuck him in. He really was such a sweet child, she thought. All the boys were adorable, lovable, and very entertaining, but only Benjamin could be described as sweet.

  “Teeth brushed?” she asked the twins.

  They nodded, but opposite each other, as if to prove they were different from one another. Like that wasn’t completely evident.

  “Come on then, Benjamin, let’s get you tucked in.”

  He hopped onto the bed and squirmed under the covers, his smile wide enough to take away the sting of his brothers’ refusals. Once he was down, head on his pillow, he folded his hands over his chest and waited for her, that smile still shining.

  Like the older boys’ room, the twins’ room was set up with two narrow beds side by side, with a small nightstand between them. The bottom of the nightstand held books while the top space was clear except for a kerosene lantern. Gracie noted that it was the tubular kind, which was safer around children. She wouldn’t have expected anything else from Matthew.

  Gracie nudged their lantern aside and placed hers next to it to have both hands free. Benjamin grinned as she pulled the covers up, then squealed when she didn’t stop until they were over his head.

  “Gracie, stop, stop.” He giggled.

  She pulled the covers back down. “Is something wrong?” she asked innocently.

  “You aren’t supposed to cover up my head.”

  “Oh.” She acted as if she had no idea. “Let me try that again.” She pulled the covers up and over his face, only stopping when he giggled and corrected her.

  “What?” she asked. She probably shouldn’t be getting him wound up before bed, but she couldn’t help herself. He was ripe for the teasing.

  “You did it again.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “But you know what they say?”

  He shook his head, eyes still twinkling.

  “Third time is a charm.” She held up three fingers. “That means that after three times, I should get it right. Have we had two tries?”

  He nodded.

  “So this is number three.” Her smile was a little wider as she pulled the covers up, over his head, then back in place again, as if she only then remembered to correct herself.

  “Charm,” Benjamin said.

  “Def initely.” She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “See you in the morning.”

  Benjamin mumbled something, she wasn’t quite sure what, then she turned to find Thomas scrambling out of bed.

  “Do me!” he cried. “Do me now.”

  The smile on her face was almost out of control as she performed the tuck
ing-in ritual on Thomas. It didn’t matter that she used the very same technique as with his twin. He lapped up the attention, giggled and laughed, and she felt herself become a little more accepted into the household. And that was worth a lot. More than gold.

  Now if she could figure out how to work the same magic on their father.

  Chapter Twelve

  Gracie stared into the darkness over her bed until her eyes watered. No matter how hard she looked, she could not make out the ceiling. What she was going to do if the baby woke up was anyone’s guess. She couldn’t see three inches in front of her face.

  She would have to talk to Matthew tomorrow about installing some battery-operated touch lights around the room for nighttime changings and feedings. And she wondered what they had done before. She supposed he had left the door open and the small lights spaced down the hallway would have given some illumination. Then again, they were operated by motion-sensor and would only come on if someone walked in front of them. She supposed that they would have stayed on long enough for him to find his way across the room and pick the baby up from the crib. So what had he used to make his way out of the room?

  Hmmm . . .

  Or maybe he slept with the baby in his bed.

  She shook her head at herself. First of all, that was such an Englisch thing to do. She didn’t know of any Amish couples who allowed their babies to sleep with them. She supposed there had to be a few, but none that she knew about. And secondly, she couldn’t imagine big ol’ grumpy Matthew Byler allowing such a tiny creature to rest next to him. Wouldn’t he worry about rolling over on her? And what about all that screaming she did whenever he was around? Gracie couldn’t imagine having a nonstop crying baby, much less a nonstop crying baby right next to her in bed.

  Maybe that was why he left the room dark: so Baby Grace didn’t see him coming. Maybe he used the sneak attack method to console her at night, swooping in and satisfying whatever need she had before she realized it was him and not her mother.