Bart looked up from the Farmer’s Almanac. “Why, Andrew, I figured we’d see you earlier before Susie went to bed.”
“I figured I’d see you earlier,” Andrew said.
“You’re too late now,” Bart commented. “I think Mavis put her down a gut hour ago.”
“Why didn’t you bring her back?” Andrew said, working to keep his voice from rising.
“Huh? What do you mean? Mavis told me that you were coming.”
“You were to bring Susie back to me this afternoon, after you got in from the fields.”
Bart put his book aside and frowned. “That ain’t what Mavis told me.”
“I distinctly—”
“Andrew!” Mavis cried, coming into the room. She looked flushed and nervous. “I’m sorry you missed Susie. She’s sound asleep now.”
“Why’d you put her down, Mavis?”
“It was her bedtime,” Mavis answered, as if questioning Andrew’s common sense.
“We agreed that you’d bring her back today, and we’d discuss future arrangements.”
“What’s going on here?” Bart asked. “Did you tell me wrong?”
Mavis gave him a look. “It must be a simple misunderstanding,” she told him innocently.”
“Andrew?” Bart questioned.
“You were to bring Susie back. You heard us, Bart. We never changed the plans.”
Bart shook his head. “I think Mavis must be right. A simple misunderstanding is all.”
Andrew knew full well it hadn’t been a misunderstanding. His dear mother-in-law was distorting things to get her way.
“I’ll just go get her then,” Andrew said, trying not to clench his teeth.
“Ach, Andrew! You can’t do that,” Mavis said quickly. “She’s sound asleep. Surely, you don’t want to disturb her. She’s sleeping in Grace’s old cradle. I rather think she likes it.”
“Mavis—”
“And besides, how are you going to hold her and drive the buggy at the same time?” she went on. “It’ll be quite difficult.”
“Bart can go with me and drive my cart back. I’ll pick it up later.”
Bart held up his hand. “Maybe we should just let this go until tomorrow,” he suggested.
Mavis gave her husband a grateful smile. “Jah. Let’s leave it until tomorrow.”
Andrew sucked in a long breath. If he made a big deal out of this, how would it look? He could tell by Mavis’s expression that she knew she’d gotten her way. He drew himself up.
“Fine. I’ll stay the night here.”
“Ach, Andrew, you don’t need to do that. I’ll bring Susie back tomorrow afternoon,” Mavis said. “Won’t we Bart?”
“Of course.” Bart smiled. “It’ll be nice to have Susie over the night again.”
“I’ll stay.”
Mavis’s lips tightened. “Andrew, there’s no need. We’ll bring her back tomorrow.”
Earlier, hadn’t Mavis suggested he stay with them? But now, it was completely clear that she hadn’t meant it. He was unwelcome. She didn’t want him there.
He shifted his weight to the other foot. What could he do? Argue with her further and plant himself on her davenport for the night? And what was wrong with Bart? Couldn’t he see what his wife was doing? Couldn’t he feel the tension in the air? Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. He liked Bart, but sometimes, the man was oblivious.
Mavis was moving toward the front door. “Don’t you worry, now. Susie will be fine.”
He couldn’t even bring himself to respond. He was angry. And tired. And worried. Was this how it was going to be now? Him fighting for time with his own daughter?
If only Amy were still there to help him. If only he weren’t dependent on Mavis. If only it weren’t coming on harvest time. If this were the middle of the winter, he could care for Susie himself during the days. He’d only need help now and again to do outside chores around the place.
But it wasn’t winter. And it was almost harvest time.
He needed Mavis.
She pushed the screen door open for him. “See you tomorrow,” she said.
He gave a grunt in reply—it was the best he could do. He climbed into his cart and left the place, his teeth grinding.
He was tired. So, so, so tired. He wouldn’t have the energy to deal with this every day. But he couldn’t let Mavis have his daughter—because that was what she was aiming for; she had made that clear.
He forced himself to breathe slowly on the way home. Forced himself to feel the cool air and listen to the rhythmic sounds of his horse’s clip clops. The sound usually relaxed him, but tonight, it didn’t work. He missed his daughter. He wanted her home.
He was ready to turn the cart around and head back to Mavis’s and Bart’s when he came upon a buggy, sitting by the side of the road. He slowed down. It was growing dark, but he could see that someone sat inside in the passenger seat. He slowed further and his mouth nearly dropped open in surprise.
It looked like Amy Yoder sitting in the passenger seat. Was this Peter Raber’s buggy and horse? As soon as the question came to his mind, he realized that it was the Raber family buggy. But why had he stopped on the side of the road, and where was he?
“Amy?” he called out, pulling up to the buggy’s side.
Amy’s eyes grew wide. “Andrew! What are you doing out and about?”
“I…” He sighed. “Where’s Peter?”
“He ran down to the pond to fetch his brother. We’re on our way back.” Even in the falling light, he could see her cheeks color. Why was she embarrassed?
“I see.” He was ready to snap his reins and continue on, but her voice stopped him.
“Where’s Susie?” she asked. “Is Mavis still at your house?”
He blew out his breath. He didn’t want to tell Amy what was going on, but the words rushed out. “Susie is at Mavis and Bart’s place for the night.”
“But why?” Amy asked. “Why isn’t she with you?” As soon as the words were out, Amy clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said through her fingers. “It ain’t my business.”
Andrew shook his head. “I went to fetch her… I didn’t know, I mean, I didn’t plan…” He couldn’t go on. Suddenly, he felt like a complete failure as a father. His cheeks grew hot, and he gave Amy an imploring look.
“It’s all right,” she said quickly. “I’m sure everything will be fine. But, Andrew…” she hesitated before continuing, “will Mavis bring her back?”
Exactly what he’d been wondering. She said she would bring Susie back tomorrow; but then, she’d also said she would bring her back today.
“Jah,” he said, forcing a smile. “I’m sure she will.”
“Do you need me?” Amy asked, and he was certain he heard tears in her voice. “I can come watch Susie at your house if you need me.”
Everything in Andrew wanted to say, Jah, jah, I need you. But how in the world would he justify that?
Just then, Peter emerged from a path through the trees. “I found hi—,” he started and then stopped short. “Andrew. How nice to see you.”
But his voice hardly sounded pleased.
“Hello, Peter. I was just on my way back home. Nice to see you, too.” And without giving Peter time to respond, Andrew snapped the reins and continued down the road, a feeling of loneliness piercing his heart. He couldn’t get home fast enough now. He hadn’t thought he could be any more upset than he already was after leaving Susie, but seeing Peter just then, seeing Amy’s sweet face, made him feel worse than ever.
And he was afraid … much too afraid to figure out why.
Chapter Six
Amy pressed her hand to her chest, trying to regain some calm. Seeing Andrew just then had nearly broken her heart. He hadn’t looked so defeated since right after Grace had died. She wanted to gather him in her arms and comfort him—tell him all would be well.
But would it? Would all be well?
She could feel Andrew’s fear radiating
off him, and she understood it only too well. She’d seen Mavis in action, and she also feared what the woman might be planning. Andrew might not have said it in so many words, but he was scared. Scared that Mavis was going to somehow take the baby from him.
“What’s wrong?” Peter asked.
“Nothing,” she said and smiled. “Nothing.”
“What was Andrew doing out?”
“He was visiting the boppli at Mavis’s house.”
Peter’s brow rose. “Ah. So Mavis has taken Susie to live with her there?”
Amy’s jaw tightened. “Nee,” she ground out. “Just for the night.”
Peter’s brow lifted even higher. “And this upsets you?”
“Of course, it does!” Amy snapped. “The boppli belongs with her father. That Mavis is terrible. She’s trying to separate them. I just know it.”
Peter gaped at her. “Whoa.”
“I-I’m sorry,” Amy said quickly. “I-I don’t know what got into me. Please forget what I just said. It was wrong. And hateful.”
Peter stared at her.
Amy looked down at her hands, feeling terrible. Who was she to judge another person? God would not be pleased with her at all.
“Can we go now?” she asked, wanting to get moving again. Plus, she didn’t want Peter to keep staring at her.
“Jah.” Peter got the buggy underway.
“You told your brother to get on home then?”
“I did. He wasn’t too happy about it, neither.” Peter laughed and started chatting about how he often had to coral his brothers for his mother.
Amy breathed with relief. She was glad Peter didn’t dwell on things too long. And she certainly didn’t want him dwelling on what she’d just said. Besides, this was one of the last times they would ride out together before he left for his uncle’s place. She was going to miss him.
“I shouldn’t be out too late,” he told her.
“All right. Whenever you need to go back is fine.”
“Amy?”
“Jah?”
“You will write to me, won’t you?”
“Of course,” she said hurriedly. “I will write you all the time. And you’ll write back.”
“Every day. I’ll write every day.” He grew quiet and then whispered, “I’m going to miss you something terrible.”
Sudden tears burned her eyes. “Me, too.”
“You’ll be all right without me?”
She winced. Why had he asked that? Why wouldn’t she be all right? “Jah…”
“I, well, I—” He paused, and then, “You sure you’re all right about Susie and Andrew? It’s just that—”
“I’m fine,” she cut in quickly, not wanting to hear the rest of his thoughts. “Just fine. And jah, we’ll write. It’ll be almost like being together.”
But it wouldn’t be, and she knew it.
“Almost like being together,” he repeated.
Ten minutes later, he stopped the buggy at the end of her drive. He reached across her to open the door. His face was close to hers, and he gazed into her eyes.
“We should be able to ride together one more time.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” she whispered.
And then he leaned even closer, and she felt his warm breath on her cheek as he kissed her lips. It was a soft, quick kiss. Tender and sweet.
“Gut-night, Amy.” His voice was thick.
“Gut-night, Peter.”
* * *
Andrew stood on the porch, debating. Should he go over to the Hershberger’s himself to fetch Susie? Or wait until they showed up? Surely, they’d come today. This time, Bart knew the plan for sure, and Andrew couldn’t imagine him not coming. If it were up to Mavis, Andrew had little faith that they’d show up.
It was already suppertime. Actually, a little beyond suppertime. Any minute now, they should be there.
He craned his neck for the hundredth time, trying to peer down the road. He didn’t have a good vantage spot from the porch. Maybe, he should move down toward the flower beds at the end of the drive. He could fuss with them a bit, pull out some weeds. He certainly couldn’t keep waiting like this without doing something—he was about to go crazy.
He hurried to the barn to fetch a trowel and then he went down to the end of the drive. He gazed down at the flower bed, and his heart lurched. Grace had loved her flower beds. She’d spent a lot of time in them, weeding and fertilizing and just plain puttering. He used to watch her from the barn. Watch her graceful movements. He smiled, remembering. She was even graceful when she was yanking out the weeds. She’d pile the weeds up next to the bed and then she’d gather them up in her apron and head to the compost pile she kept behind the barn.
Often, she’d see him watching her and she’d give him a smile that would rival the sun. More often than not, there’d be a big streak of dirt across her forehead. He’d laugh and smile and go back to whatever he was doing, feeling happier than he’d been the moment before.
Grace was like that. Spreading happiness.
His eyes blurred with tears. Would Susie be like that? Spreading happiness? He had a feeling she would, for she looked like Grace in so many ways. Ach. He missed the child. He bent down to pull some weeds. The bed looked neglected. He needed to get out here more, take care of it. Grace would be horrified to see its condition.
He heard a buggy coming down the road and jolted upright. He nearly wept with relief when he saw that it was Bart and Mavis. He stood, waiting for them.
“Whoa,” Bart called, pulling up on the reins. “You gardening at this hour?” He chuckled.
“Just pulling a few weeds.” Andrew peered inside the buggy to where Mavis sat, stiff as a post, holding Susie.
“I’ll meet you at the porch,” Andrew said, and headed back to the barn to put the trowel away. By the time he got to the porch, Bart, Mavis and Susie were going up the steps. Andrew went straight to Mavis and held out his hands for Susie.
“Ach, Andrew. Your hands will be dirty,” Mavis scolded.
Andrew looked at his hands, not seeing much of anything, but Mavis was right. He probably should wash them. He went inside and washed them quickly, returning to find everyone in the front room.
“Come here, Susie,” he said, taking the child from Mavis’s arms. “How’s my girl?”
Susie blinked at him with wide eyes. She allowed him to snuggle with her, settling right into his arms.
“How was she?” he asked.
“Perfectly fine, of course,” Mavis said, her voice strident.
“She did gut,” Bart said, moving closer to tickle Susie under the chin.
“Thank you for watching her,” Andrew said, trying to ease the tension in the room. “Shall we sit down for a bit?”
“I brought her supplies,” Mavis said. “Enough for the night.”
“I have plenty of formula and diapers,” Andrew said.
“I’ll be over first thing in the morning to fetch her.”
Andrew looked at Mavis. “Jah, we need to make a plan.”
“We have a plan,” Mavis said. “I’ll come and get her tomorrow and take her home with me. Whenever you’d like her for a night, you can come and get her.”
“Whoa,” Andrew blurted. “Wait a minute, Mavis. I know I’m going to need your help during the day, but I can tend her every evening and night. And I’ll be having her on the weekends.”
“On Saturday?” Mavis said. “You’ll be working on Saturday. Crops don’t take the day off.”
Andrew drew in a long slow breath. “Mavis, I appreciate your help.” He was trying hard to keep his voice even and friendly but watching her face curl into a frown nearly toppled his resolve. “I will be taking Susie every chance I get,” he added.
Mavis glared at him. “You can’t be selfish, Andrew. You must think about what’s best for the child. She can’t be parceled out like a package. She needs stability. Especially since… since…” Mavis pressed her lips together and visibly gulped. “She needs to be main
ly with me. I’ll be her primary caregiver. I am her mammi, you know.”
“And I am her dat,” Andrew said. He was standing on slippery ground, feeling Mavis shovel the dirt away beneath him. He couldn’t let that happen. If he started things out wrong, it would only get worse. He already felt like he was coming up short after Mavis got her way the night before.
He didn’t want to play tug of war with the woman, but he was going to have his daughter with him as much as he could.
“Now, now,” Bart said. “Let’s all be calm. Everyone’s tired, and things could be said…”
“Things need to be said,” Mavis said with a snort. “I’m going to protect this boppli and make sure she gets what she needs.”
Andrew leveled his voice. “I am her father. I will decide.”
Bart held up his hands. “Of course, you are, Andrew. We ain’t saying anything against that. Mavis here will do a fine job helping with Susie. You can trust her.”
You can trust her…? To do what? Take Susie away from him?
“I appreciate Mavis and how she cares for Susie,” Andrew said. “I have no issue with that. But I will have Susie with me every evening and night and on the weekends.”
“Surely, you can’t possibly think—” Mavis started, but Bart cut her off.
“Let’s try it that way,” he said, giving his wife a meaningful look. “And if you run into any trouble, just let us know. We’re happy to help.”
Mavis was huffing at this point, but Bart directed her out of the house with his arm firmly around her waist.
“We’ll be over in the morning,” he called behind him. “Bright and early.”
Andrew nodded and watched them leave. He gazed down at Susie. “I’m sorry you had to hear all that, little one. Truly sorry. But you’re my daughter. Mine and Grace’s. And your mother would want me to raise you.”
Now that it was just the two of them, it felt strange, and the full responsibility for this child in his arms hit him with a blow to his gut. Could he do it? Could he really take care of this child properly?
The Widower (Amy's Story Book 3) Page 3
