Tears burned in the back of her eyes, and anger coursed through her. Didn’t he understand? Why couldn’t he see what this meant to her?
“Nee,” she said. “I wouldn’t. Have you completely forgotten that this is Grace’s boppli? I loved Grace with all my heart. She was my best friend. She died, Peter. Died. I want to take care of her boppli. I love Susie just as I loved Grace. And this will be a blessing to us, too. I can save some money. You’re always talking about how you have nothing to offer us. Well, I can offer us something. I can—”
“Stop,” Peter said, holding up his hand. “Can’t you understand that I don’t want my fiancée to be the one earning money for us? It should be me.”
“You are earning money. It’s just needed for your family right now. Later, it will be for us.”
Peter shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, Amy.” He grew silent, but the emotions running across his face alarmed her. He was upset. Much more upset than she would have ever predicted.
She took his hand in hers. “I’m sorry, too.”
“So, you’ll rethink your job at Andrew’s?”
She stared at him, dumbfounded. Hadn’t he heard a word she’d said? “Peter…”
He just looked at her.
“Are you telling me not to take this job? I’ve already given my word.”
“You’re allowed to change your mind.”
“But I haven’t changed my mind,” she cried. “I haven’t.”
“So, you’re going to do this whether I approve or not?”
Amy tried to swallow the bile that rose in her throat. Was he really doing this? Was he really forbidding her to work for Andrew?
“I-I’ve given my word,” she said, her voice so low she could barely hear it herself. “I can’t go back on my word.”
Peter sighed and turned away from her. They rode on in silence. The clip clop of the horse jarred Amy. Was this how they were going to spend their last evening together?
“I don’t want to fight,” she finally said.
Peter sighed and again pulled up slightly on the reins, slowing the buggy. “I don’t, either.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Jah. You do.”
Amy’s anger flared. “I want to care for Susie,” she said. “If you understood how much I wanted to, how important it is to me, you wouldn’t ask me not to.”
“Amy, it’s not Susie,” he said, his voice shaking.
Her gaze hardened. “Is it you, then?” she asked.
He scowled. “How can you be so smart, and yet, be so dumb?” His face instantly went red. “I mean… I mean…”
“I know what you mean,” she said. The problem was that she also knew what he was referring to. Of course, it wasn’t him. It was Andrew. But she didn’t want to talk about Andrew. She didn’t even want to think about Andrew. She already did enough of that. Her sister’s accusations filled her mind. Peter was clearly thinking along the same lines.
She inhaled deeply. “Andrew is in grief, Peter. I’m not going there to help him with that. I’ll be there all day with Susie. Andrew won’t even be in the house.”
“So, he won’t be coming in for the noon meal? Won’t be there when you show up every morning and when you leave every afternoon?”
“Well, of course, he will. What is he supposed to do? Leave the boppli on the porch for me to find every morning?” This was ridiculous. She didn’t want to be riding with Peter anymore. Didn’t want to spend their last moments together like this. But she wasn’t going to back down from this. She couldn’t.
“So, your decision has nothing to do with Andrew?” Peter asked, staring at her now.
“Of course not,” she cried quickly. Too quickly. She clamped her lips together, her mind whirling. Was she being honest? Did her decision really not have one thing to do with Andrew? Tears filled her eyes and burned when she tried to blink them away. She couldn’t allow her mind to go there—it would only lead to trouble. She bowed her head, and the tears fell.
“I’m sorry, Amy,” Peter said, taking one of her hands in his. “I guess I didn’t understand how much you love that little girl. I’ve been… Well, I’ve let my mind run away with me. Of course, I know how much you loved Grace. I-I won’t stand in your way.”
Amy sniffed and tried to quiet the shaking in her chest. “I’m the one who’s sorry. If-if you really don’t want me—” She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t finish that sentence, and thank God, she didn’t have to.
“Nee. I was wrong. Take care of Susie. It likely won’t be too long anyway. Mavis won’t stay away forever. Maybe, she’ll even bring her mamm here to Hollybrook. That would solve everything.”
Amy couldn’t stop her tears. She felt sick to her stomach. Was she lying to Peter? Was she? Because there was something inside her, something in her heart for Andrew. Was it compassion for his loss? Was it empathy because she was grieving, too? What was it? It couldn’t be love for him, it just couldn’t. That wouldn’t even make sense. Andrew was Grace’s husband. He belonged to Grace.
And she belonged to Peter.
And she had defied him. Openly. Shame filled her. Did she care so much for Grace’s baby that she was willing to put Susie before her own fiancé? Because that was what she’d done. Here she’d spouted off to Peter about how she couldn’t go back on her word, but hadn’t she done just that? Her word to Peter? To be his fiancée?
And didn’t that promise bind her to obey him? Didn’t it? She blew out her breath in a gush. She wasn’t married to him yet. Wasn’t she putting the cart before the horse?
“Amy?”
“Jah?”
“Let’s start the evening over. This isn’t at all how I planned to spend this time with you.”
She smiled through her tears. “Me, neither.”
“Gut evening, Amy,” he said in a cheerful voice. “How are you tonight?”
Oh, she liked him. She truly did. “I’m right fine, thank you.”
“Nice weather we’ve been having,” he said and wriggled his eyebrows.
She burst into laughter. “Jah. Right nice weather.”
He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. “I’ll write to you as soon as I get there,” he said softly.
“And I’ll write back straight away.”
“Gut. I’m leaving early in the morning. I should be there by the noon meal.”
“I’m glad you’ll be staying with kin. That makes it better, ain’t so?”
“Jah, it does. Much better. Maybe I won’t have to be away for long. I know we’ve put our wedding off, but at least we can continue courting.”
“I’m going to miss you.”
“Not as much as I’ll miss you,” he said. Then he cleared his throat. “How about a quick walk instead. How about we go to Edmund’s Pond, after all?”
She nodded. “I’d like that.”
Chapter Eleven
Later that evening, when Amy was lying in bed listening to the crickets outside her window, she pondered her time with Peter. After its horrid beginning, it had ended all right. But even so, they’d been walking on eggshells with each other. Amy had tried to guard her every word, wanting to say nothing that would cause Peter any alarm.
But she herself was filled with alarm. She needed to sort out her jumble of emotions for Andrew, and the sooner the better. It wouldn’t do to have any confusion on that front. She’d told Peter that she had only taken this job because of Grace and Susie.
And no matter what, she had to mean it.
* * *
“Do you want me to come with you?” Beulah asked her the next morning.
“Nee, I’ll be fine.”
“I know you’ll be fine. I’m just asking if you want me to come.”
“Mamm wouldn’t like that. There’s too much to do around here right now.”
Beulah groaned. “I know there is…”
Amy shook her head. “You’re just wanting to get away from Mamm’s watchful eye, ain’t so?”
; Beulah grimaced. “Maybe.”
Amy laughed. “Sorry. You can’t use me as an excuse.”
“How did Peter take it?”
“How did Peter take what?” Amy asked, knowing only too well what Beulah meant.
“You running right back to Andrew’s the first chance you get.”
Amy stared at her sister. “You just love to do that, don’t you? Love to phrase things in the most twisted manner possible?”
“My dear sister,” Beulah said, cocking a brow, “I don’t think I’m twisting anything.”
Amy turned away lest Beulah see something in her expression that she’d pounce on next.
“Well, if you won’t let me come, at least give Andrew my regards.”
“Oh goodness,” Amy said with exasperation. “I don’t think Andrew is holding his breath for your regards.”
“But he is for yours,” Beulah said with a chuckle. And before Amy could respond, she darted out of the room.
“You ready to go?” Fiona asked, walking into the kitchen.
“Jah.”
“I’m glad you can help Andrew out, Amy. I know you’re doing this for Grace. But do remember, Andrew is at a very vulnerable place right now.”
Amy tensed. “I know, Mamm. I’m missing Grace, too.”
“That isn’t exactly what I meant, daughter.”
“I know what you meant.” Was everyone going to question her motives? Amy couldn’t get out of there fast enough. “I’ll see you this evening. Is it all right to take the pony and cart for the day?”
“It will be normally, but your dat wanted to drive you over this morning. He’s eager to check on Andrew himself.”
“All right.” Actually, this was better. Having her dad with her would get this started off on the right foot—avoid any possible misunderstandings. Besides, her dad had a great fondness for Andrew, and it would be good for them to chat a bit.
“He’s waiting outside for you,” Fiona said.
“Bye, Mamm.” Amy hurried out the side door and circled around to the barn, where her father was waiting with the pony cart all hitched up.
“You having breakfast over there?” he asked.
“Jah. I wanted to get there early. Andrew will want to be out to the fields right soon, I imagine.”
Thomas nodded, and they started down the drive. “I’m glad Andrew can count on you, Amy. I know this has taken a toll on him.”
She nodded but said nothing.
“And I know Mavis isn’t an easy woman, but I do feel sorry that she has to return to Pennsylvania so quick-like.”
“It might not be for long,” Amy said.
“Nee. I pray not.”
Amy grew quiet, content to make the trip in silence. Before long, Thomas had pulled the cart up to Andrew’s porch. Amy immediately heard Susie crying from inside the house.
“I better get in there,” she told her dad.
“I’ll pick you up between four and five.”
“All right, Dat.”
“Send Andrew out, will you?”
She nodded and climbed out of the cart, hurrying inside.
“Ach, Amy, you’re here,” Andrew said. His hair was sticking out funny as if it hadn’t seen a comb in a while. And he had a frantic sort of expression on his face. “Susie ain’t any too happy right now.”
Amy swooped the baby out of Andrew’s arms and snuggled her to her shoulder. Susie kept crying until Amy began whispering into her ear.
Andrew gaped at them both. “How do you do that, Amy?”
Amy smiled. “Dat’s outside. He’d like to see you.”
Andrew looked pleased. “I’ll be back in shortly.”
“Take your time,” she told him. He left, and she glanced around the house. It was more or less in order, but she quickly saw that it needed a good sweeping. Craning her neck, she also saw that the kitchen sink was full of dishes. She laughed. “Come on, Susie. Our work is cut out for us.”
Amy had become quite skilled at working in the kitchen while holding a baby, and she flowed right back into a pleasant rhythm easily. A deep contentment filled her as she went about her tasks, whipping up some pancake batter after she cleared the counter.
“We’ll do the dishes after breakfast. How about that?” she asked Susie, who looked up at her and gurgled. “Ach, but I’ve missed you,” Amy told her, kissing her head.
She heard the front screen slam shut and Andrew popped into the kitchen. “I’m sorry about the mess. I was going to clean it up last night, but I fell asleep in the nursery.” He looked around, clearly embarrassed. “I wanted to have it all nice for you.”
“Goodness, Andrew. That’s why I’m. here. Don’t fret.” She smiled at him and was rewarded with a warm smile in return.
“Let me hold her while you make breakfast.”
“Don’t even think about it,” she said. “I’m not about to let her out of my arms now. Besides, I have quite the skill in making breakfast one-handed.” She was teasing him, but he gave her a serious look.
“You have many skills, Amy,” he said matter-of-factly. His eyes were on hers and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe.
Be careful. Be careful. Be careful. The alarms went off in her head. She cleared her throat and pulled her gaze from his. “Pancakes will be ready in about ten minutes.”
“Pancakes?” He looked like a child receiving a Christmas gift.
She laughed. “Go out and milk your cow.”
He chuckled and moved closer to tweak Susie’s chin. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Ten minutes, Andrew.” She laughed again and stirred some more milk into the batter.
He left through the wash room, and tears sprang to Amy’s eyes. She was so happy to be back that her heart was pounding wildly. She loved it there. Loved this kitchen. Loved this house. Loved Susie. Loved…
She sucked in her breath and squared her shoulders. No. She was being foolish and over-emotional. Her life had been topsy-turvy ever since Grace had died, and that was what her confusion was about. It had nothing to do with her growing feelings for Andrew. Nothing at all. She simply felt compassion for him. She identified with him in his grief. That was all.
That had to be all.
She was an engaged woman. Peter was waiting for her. And she had told him that there was nothing going on between her and Andrew. Maybe she hadn’t stated it quite so plainly, but she’d made it clear. Soooo…
There was nothing going on between her and Andrew.
She glanced out the kitchen window and saw Andrew walking toward the barn. Was it her imagination or did he walk with a bit more spring in his step? Did he walk with a bit more ease than she’d seen in him for a while? She studied him. Studied his broad shoulders and slim waist. Studied the way he moved with such ease and purpose. She smiled at his unruly hair. It was spiking all over like a child’s. He hadn’t even put on his straw hat yet. Silly man.
Her heart swelled as she watched him disappear into the barn. She needed to get to her tasks or breakfast wouldn’t be ready for him. She moved back to her mixing bowl and stopped short. Suddenly, she was weeping—tears flowing down her cheeks.
She loved him.
Nee. Nee. Nee. Nee, she cried inwardly. She stumbled back into a chair, cradling Susie to her chest. Susie squirmed, and Amy realized she was hugging her too tightly.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I’m sorry.”
She tried to stop her tears, but it was no use. Susie stared up at her, her little mouth forming a perfect “o.”
“What am I going to do?” Amy asked her. “I can’t— I just can’t—”
Her sister had been right all along. Amy wept even harder. What was she going to do? Andrew didn’t love her. He appreciated her. He wanted her to watch his daughter. But he didn’t love her. He loved Grace. Ach, but this was a mess. And what about Peter?
Amy sniffed and forced herself to stop fussing about. This was going to do her no good at all. She needed to get herself together and stic
k with the task at hand. She stood and walked over to the counter, finishing the batter. She pulled out the iron skillet and turned on the cook stove. While it warmed, she set the table and warmed a bottle for Susie.
This was just a temporary glitch, she told herself. Her emotions got carried away. She forced herself to think about Peter. He should be on his way up north right then. As soon as Susie went down for her first nap, she’d write him a letter. Yes. That was what she’d do. She’d tell him she missed him. Tell him that she couldn’t wait until they were married.
“Amy?”
She tensed when Andrew poked his head back into the kitchen.
“Has it been ten minutes?” He looked so adorable and so child-like that she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Close enough,” she said. “The first pancakes will be ready in a jiff. I haven’t gotten the sausage fried yet, though.”
“I don’t need sausage. Pancakes sound wonderful gut all by themselves.” He came into the kitchen and took Susie from her. He grabbed up the bottle from the warming pan. “I’ll feed her.”
“Andrew, that’s my job.”
He gazed at her, his blue eyes like a luminous lake, fresh and fathomless. “Amy. I want to do it.”
“All right,” she whispered.
He smiled, looking confident that he’d made his point. But somehow, she wasn’t sure what his point really was. That he wanted to feed Susie, or that they were a team?
“It smells amazing in here,” he told her before sitting down and feeding his daughter.
Chapter Twelve
Andrew headed out to the field, his straw hat shielding him from the already hot Indiana sun. He patted his stomach and grinned. Amy made the best pancakes he’d ever tasted. Even better than Grace’s, although he’d never tell Grace—
He stopped. What was he thinking? He would never tell Grace anything again. It was agonizing how he sometimes forgot she was gone. And other times, her ever-present absence drilled a hole right through his heart.
But Amy was back. He didn’t know when he’d ever been more pleased about something. He’d watched her all through breakfast. Watched how she handled everything so smoothly. Watched how content Susie was to have her back. How in the world was he going to let Mavis take over again?
The Widower (Amy's Story Book 3) Page 6
