She turned up Amy’s driveway and pedaled to the front porch. She was leaning the bike against the railing when Ethan pushed open the screen door.
“Beulah.”
She frowned. Why did she have to see him? And why did he have to look so happy to see her?
“Hello, Ethan.”
“You here to see Amy?”
“Jah.”
“She’s around back in the garden. Susie’s asleep upstairs.”
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll go around to the garden…”
“Beulah?”
“Jah?” She stopped and looked at him.
“I got it.”
She knew immediately what he was talking about. “Did you? I’m glad for you.”
He beamed, and she couldn’t help but smile at his happiness. “I want you to…” His cheeks turned red. He cleared his throat. “I mean… Well, I’d like to show you around the shop sometime.”
She suddenly felt weary—weary to the very bone. But she wouldn’t do anything to lessen his joy. That had happened to her often enough, and she wasn’t about to be the cause of it for someone else now.
“That’d be right nice,” she said, keeping her smile fixed to her face.
He looked inordinately pleased with her agreement. “I’m going to move into the living quarters above the shop.”
“Oh, that’s right. Ezekiel Lapp lived there for years.”
“He’s moving to his daughter’s place in Ohio. He’s moving the last of his things today. Your sister is loaning me a bed.” He laughed. “I’ll be eating my meals on the floor, I think.”
She laughed with him. Most folks wouldn’t be pleased at such a prospect, but she could see nothing was going to deflate Ethan’s happiness right then. “I’m sure Mamm will have you over for supper one day.”
His eyebrows rose. “Would she? I’d like that.”
Beulah would like that, too, and the realization hit her full force in the chest. “I need to see Amy now,” she said abruptly, and without another word, she turned away. But not quickly enough to miss the look of disappointment and confusion on Ethan’s face.
No matter, she thought. She hadn’t come by to see Ethan. She’d come by to see Amy, and that was what she was going to do.
Chapter Twelve
Beulah circled the house quickly and saw Amy squatting amongst the zucchini vines.
“Hello, Amy.”
Amy turned around to look at her and then jumped to her feet. “Beulah,” she said, picking her way through the rows. “What are you doing here?”
She glanced around as if looking for someone else. Then she lowered her voice. “I didn’t think I’d see you for a while. How is it over there? At the Umbles? I’ve always been a bit curious about Uriah’s family. I’ve always thought—”
“I didn’t go.”
Amy gaped at her. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“I mean Uriah didn’t come for me.”
“What?”
Beulah braced herself. “He didn’t tell his folks.”
“What?”
“You heard me, Amy.”
Amy grabbed her hand and practically dragged her to the side porch. “Sit down,” she instructed. “Tell me what happened.”
Beulah sank to the bottom step. “I waited all afternoon for him. He didn’t come.”
“But why not?”
“He was waiting for me that evening, down by the road.”
“And you didn’t go home with him then?”
“Nee. He didn’t want me to.” Beulah saw the look of righteous indignation on her sister’s face and cringed.
“And why not?”
“He thinks we should wait. He thinks we moved too quickly. He thinks we should … I don’t even know.”
“So. He got what he wanted, and now he’s done with you?” Amy’s voice shook.
“Ach, nee. He’s not … done. He-he brought a quilt. Wanted to go back to where we were the night before.”
Amy jumped up from the step and faced Beulah. “How could he?” She shook her head, and her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry, Beulah. He’s horrid! Horrid, I tell you. How could he?”
Beulah had never seen her sister so angry. In truth, she hadn’t seen Amy this worked up for a long, long time—if ever. Her nostrils flared, and her face was red.
“How could he treat you like this? You love him, and he’s supposed to love you. Doesn’t he even know what the word means?”
Beulah just shook her head, her heart full of misery. She should jump to Uriah’s defense. That was what she always did—jump to Uriah’s defense. How many hundreds of times had she defended him to Amy? But now… Now she didn’t have the energy to say one word in his favor. She felt numb. Used. Stupid.
Amy sat down beside her and put her arm around Beulah’s shoulders. “It’ll be all right, Beulah. You’ll see. Everything will be all right.”
Beulah appreciated the comfort, but Amy was wrong. It wouldn’t be all right. Ever. Uriah had cut her to the quick, and she didn’t know if she’d ever get over it. She did know one thing—she was through with him. Utterly and completely through with him. There was no way he would ever treat her so horribly again, and the only way to ensure that, was to be done with him.
Ach, but she had loved him. She’d loved everything about him. Even his rebellious streak and the way he flaunted so many of their Amish ways.
Well, she was paying for it now, wasn’t she? Her throat constricted, and she had trouble swallowing. She saw black spots dancing around the edges of her vision and a sudden feeling of light-headedness. She wavered and thought she was going to fall off the step. If it hadn’t been for Amy’s arm around her, she might have.
“Come inside,” Amy said. “I’ll make tea.”
Beulah didn’t have the strength to even answer her. Amy half-lifted her from the step and guided her inside the large farm house. The linoleum floor creaked as she walked across the wash room into the kitchen.
“Sit down,” Amy told her. “This won’t take but a minute.”
But just then, Susie started crying.
“Ach, the boppli’s awake,” Amy said. She gave Beulah an apologetic look. “I’ll run fetch her and be right back.”
“I-I’m fine,” Beulah said. “No hurry.”
Amy darted out of the room, and Beulah fidgeted with her hands in her lap. Then she jumped up, too, and started pacing the room. She passed by the kitchen window and looked out. She saw Ethan out by the barn, fiddling with something on Andrew’s buggy. She smiled. He was already getting into business mode out there. How wonderful it must be to have such excitement over your life and your future.
She used to feel that way. Used to feel that same burning drive—but for her, the drive was to be with Uriah.
Uriah. Uriah. Uriah.
She gulped back her tears, angry now. She squared her shoulders. She would not snivel around anymore. She’d told Amy. There was no one else she had to tell, and her parents need never know anything. She’d caused them enough grief in life, and if she could spare them this, then she would. She took a glass from the cupboard and got a drink of water. Then she went outside and made her way to Ethan.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He gazed up at her. “Checking Andrew’s buggy wheels.”
“So you’ll sell buggies, and also repair them?”
“Jah. Both. Ezekiel left quite a good amount of stock—buggy parts and such. I’ll have to inventory all of it and then decide what needs to be ordered…” He looked sheepish. “Sorry. I’m sure you have no interest in what I might have to order.” He laughed.
“Not really,” she admitted, laughing, too. “When will you be leaving here to move in over there?”
“Soon as I can. I’m thinking in a day or two.”
“I’m sure Andrew will be sorry to see you go.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But he’s excited for me, too. And now, I’ll be living here so we’ll be able to see each other plenty.”<
br />
“And you’ll get to know everyone…”
“And I’ll get to know everyone.” He patted the side of the buggy. “Everyone needs buggy parts one time or another, so I reckon I’ll get to know the whole district before long.”
She nodded and tried to think of something else to say to him.
“Did you find Amy?”
“I did. She’s fetching Susie, and then we’re going to have tea. Do you want a cup?”
He shook his head. “Nee, but thanks. I want to get back out to the fields now and help Andrew.”
“You don’t like farming?”
“It’s all right. But not really. I much prefer working in a shop.”
“Where did you work in Wisconsin?”
He chuckled. “On a farm. Well, that’s not entirely true. I helped in the buggy shop a day or two a week.”
“So that’s how you knew you loved it.”
“That’s how I knew.” His gaze was warm on her, his blue eyes shining.
“I’m glad for you, Ethan.” An unexpected intimacy filled the air between them, as if Beulah had said something highly personal. She blinked and took a step back.
His brow wrinkled, and he also stepped back. “I’ll be heading out to the field now. See you later.”
“Jah,” she muttered, eager to go back inside the house. “See you later.”
Beulah turned to go back to the house. Amy was standing on the porch, holding Susie, and the look of consternation on her face was hard to miss.
“What?” Beulah said, climbing the steps.
“You know what,” Amy answered, leading the way back inside.
“I can’t keep moaning about my foolishness,” Beulah said. “And I won’t.”
Amy took the whistling tea kettle off the cook stove. “I didn’t imagine you would, Beulah. It’s not in your character.”
“And I wasn’t flirting with Ethan, if that’s what you think.”
Amy didn’t say anything.
Beulah sighed. “I’m sure it looked like I was, but I wasn’t. I went out as a statement to myself.”
Amy looked at her. “What in the world is that supposed to mean? A statement to yourself?”
“I s’pose it does sound strange, but I know what I mean. I’ve done more crying in the last couple days than I’ve done in my whole life, I think. And I don’t like it. It’s not like me to sit around bawling. So, I went outside to have a normal conversation. One that doesn’t have a thing to do with Uriah Umble, that rotten donkey’s behind.”
“Beulah!” Amy cried.
Beulah started to laugh. She felt better suddenly—more like herself. This was more like her normal kind of conversation with Amy.
“Sorry,” she said. “But it’s the truth, and if you weren’t such a nice person, you’d say the same thing.”
Amy handed Susie to Beulah and then poured and fixed the cups of tea. She set one down before Beulah at the table.
“Maybe so,” she said, taking Susie back. “But I don’t want you to become bitter.”
Beulah thought about it. Amy was right. Bitterness could take hold of a person right quick if they weren’t careful. She’d never forget her great aunt—on her mother’s side. She was betrayed right before her wedding, and she never got over it. Soon, no one in the family wanted to be in the same room with her. Her bitterness and depression shrouded her like a black fog.
“You’re right,” Beulah said. “I take it back. He isn’t a donkey’s behind. He’s more like… hmm… more like a sad, wilting leaf hanging onto a dead branch.”
Amy burst into laughter. “Ach, Beulah. You’re feeling better.”
Beulah took a sip of her tea and nearly burned her tongue. “Too hot, Amy.”
“Oops. Sorry.” Amy got up to fix a bottle for Susie. “What are you going to do?” She glanced at Beulah. “In all seriousness.”
“What can I do? I’m not going to beg.” Beulah blew on her tea while her mind hovered over the image of Uriah. It felt like a sharp poke to her heart. She could stop sniveling, stop talking about him, even stop seeing him, but it was going to take much, much longer to forget him. He’d been too much a part of her life. Too much a part of her.
“I am sorry, Beulah. Truly.”
“I know.” Beulah drew in a long breath. “I won’t see him anymore. I can’t.”
“But what if—” Amy stopped moving, and her face mirrored her deep concern.
“I’m not going to borrow trouble,” Beulah said.
“But you are married to him, in a way…”
“I thought I was. I thought he thought we were married. But I was wrong.”
“Then, really, what happened was that you—”
“Don’t say it. I’m already fully aware of what I did. Dwelling on it won’t change it or help…”
“You need to confess—”
Beulah held up her hand. “Please don’t, Amy. Please don’t go there. I may be very different from you in many ways, but I was brought up the same. I know what you’re going to say. I know what every person in this district would say, so you don’t need to say it.”
Amy pressed her mouth closed and put the now-warm bottle in Susie’s mouth. Susie gurgled with obvious pleasure.
Beulah stood. “Thank you for letting me stay. Thank you for letting me, well, tell you what happened.”
“So, you’re never going to tell Mamm?”
“Never. Unless I have to.”
“I won’t say anything either.” Amy gave her a small smile. “It’s not mine to tell.”
“I appreciate that.” Beulah took her cup and saucer to the sink. “Ethan tells me he’s moving out.”
“Jah.” Amy nodded. “We’ll miss him around here. He’s going to live above the buggy shop.”
“So he told me.”
“I’m thinking to get a work frolic together to help paint or whatever needs doing.”
“That’s a gut idea.”
“If we get up a group, do you want to help?”
Beulah smiled. “I do. Anything to keep myself and my mind occupied.”
“All right. I’ll let you know.”
“When shall I tell Mamm that you and Susie are coming by?”
Amy raised her brow. “I don’t know. I might be able to spare some time tomorrow or the next day.”
“You haven’t told her yet, have you? About your new boppli coming?”
“Nee, and I need to right quick. Old Mae knows, of course. And you and Andrew. Ethan has guessed, I imagine. I’ll come tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll tell Mamm. It’ll be fun.”
“She’ll be over the moon, for sure and for certain.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
“Tomorrow. Ach, I forgot. Mamm sent over some nut bread. I’ll run get it.”
Beulah fetched the bread and brought it back to Amy. Then she tenderly patted Susie’s head and left the house. Nothing had changed since she’d arrived at Amy’s a while before, but she felt better. Lighter. More normal-like. She got on her bicycle and pedaled down the drive and onto the road. She kept well to the right-hand side, avoiding the deep grooves in the asphalt—the result of hundreds of buggies.
Amy had been kind. And more accepting than Beulah had assumed. But her sister was right. If Beulah wasn’t married to Uriah, then she had sinned. But surely, surely God would understand that she’d considered herself married when she and Uriah— But then, why would He? As it turned out, Uriah didn’t even consider them married.
She’d been the only one fooled.
“I am sorry, Gott,” she whispered, feeling the weight of what she’d done. “I’m sorry. I probably don’t apologize enough for things. In fact, I’m sure I don’t. But I want to repent of this.”
She didn’t feel any sudden lessening of guilt or even any sudden feeling of forgiveness, but she had done the right thing. She had confessed. There were many in her district who would tell her she needed to confess to the bishop, too. Or a deacon. But Beulah couldn’t even think about t
aking it that far.
She arrived home and put the bicycle back in the barn. Then she went inside. Supper was ready, and her mother was just bringing out the pitcher of milk.
“Ach, you’re back,” Fiona said. “How’s Amy? And little Susie?”
“They’re fine, Mamm. Amy is coming over tomorrow to visit with you.”
Fiona flushed with pleasure. “Well, now, that’s right gut news.” She paused and studied Beulah. “You feeling better?”
“I’m feeling fine,” Beulah said. “I’m not sick, you know.”
Fiona’s brow rose. “I will admit that you look better. Now, will you call your dat in?”
Chapter Thirteen
That night, Beulah sat on the edge of her bed. For all her proclamations, she was missing Uriah. She even tried to work up her anger, hoping that would help put him out of her mind. But nothing worked. This was the time of night when she often snuck out of the house to meet him. She jumped up from her bed and went to the window, pulling the white curtain aside.
“Are you out there?” she whispered into the cool breeze coming through the window. “Are you out there waiting for me?”
She hoped he was. She hoped he was waiting and waiting and waiting for her. It would serve him right. She bit her bottom lip. She loathed admitting it, but she wanted to run out there to see. To see if he’d come.
And just to see him.
She sucked in her breath. What was the matter with her? She didn’t want to see him ever again. Didn’t want to be with him ever again.
But she did, she did, she did.
Abruptly, she turned away from the window. She took off her dress and pulled on her nightgown. There. Now, there was no chance she’d run out there. She could hardly go out in her nightgown, could she?
She shook her head and gave a rueful laugh. Unfortunately, that was exactly the kind of crazy thing she would do. But not tonight. No. Not tonight.
“I hope you’re out there,” she whispered to Uriah, wherever he was. “I hope you’re out there, hoping I’ll come. Because I’m not coming. I’m not.”
She pulled back the light quilt on her bed and lay down. No. She wasn’t going out there tonight or ever again.
The Buggy Shop (Hollybrook Amish Romance) Page 7
