by Naomi King
“Glad to see you fellows—and Abby!” Jerome called out from the porch. “We’re ready to load the furniture Amanda’s taking, and the boxes are packed. The girls are chasing down Jemima’s chickens while the women round up the last-minute stuff.”
“Got our work cut out for us,” James remarked as he helped Abby from the wagon. He sensed a nervous energy in the air as three lithe, kapped figures darted toward the outbuildings. Jerome paced as he talked with Sam and Matt.
Abby said, “This might be a tough gut-bye, even though Amanda and the girls are moving for a happy reason. Let’s go lighten their load.” She grabbed her picnic hamper and headed for the propped-open door.
James noted how tired the old white farmhouse looked in the sudden brightness of the morning sun, another sign that Amanda and Jerome hadn’t been able to maintain the place after Atlee died. From the gambrel-roofed barn, a mule brayed and another one joined in. Lizzie and the twins chattered shrilly, swishing their skirts to shoo the chickens into the henhouse, where they would be easier to catch.
“So how’s it all going?” James asked as he and Jerome entered the house.
“We’ve had our moments,” Jerome replied. “Comes with the territory, when you’ve got little ones and a teenager, along with a hobbling grandma and a new bride. But don’t get me wrong. I’ll miss them.”
With Matt and Sam on one end of a heavy walnut sideboard, James took the opposite corner alongside Jerome. In one fluid motion they lifted it and started for the door—and from there the loading continued through the morning. James saw Abby and Amanda taping boxes . . . discussing what to leave for Jerome and what might be useful at the Brubaker place. More than once Abby slipped her arm around Lizzie’s and Amanda’s shoulders, encouraging them with her smile.
By noon the wagons were loaded and secured for the trip to Clearwater. After they ate a quick dinner of sandwiches, salads, and the pumpkin cake Abby had brought, the three girls clambered onto Matt’s wagon while Jemima and Amanda rode with Sam.
Jerome took a quick look around in the house and cellar. He tethered a horse to the back of James’s wagon, and then slid onto the seat beside James and Abby. “They can always come back if they forgot something,” he said. “It’s not like I won’t ever see them again.”
James gave Karl his head, allowing the Belgian to take his time going downhill with their heavily loaded wagon. The wistful note in Jerome’s response wasn’t surprising, for he’d lived here with Atlee’s family since he’d been orphaned as a boy. “Will you get by, out here all by yourself, Jerome?”
“It’ll be mighty quiet without Amanda and the girls,” Abby added. She sat between him and Jerome, and James was enjoying the way he brushed against her each time the wagon swayed.
Jerome laughed. “Well, the mules are gut at bossing me around, telling me when to feed them. But jah, it’ll be different. Jemima’s been pestering me to find a gal to court, before the laundry and cooking get the best of me.”
James waited, sensing what might come next. Abby smiled serenely, as though watching for more deer instead of waiting for Jerome to elaborate.
Sure enough, Jerome leaned forward to catch James’s eye. His dark brows and the hair blowing back beneath his straw hat set off a lean face with a strong chin that gave him a determined, outgoing air. “How’s Emma? I was hoping she’d come today.”
“She and the folks are digging the last of the root vegetables. Watching out for them keeps her busy,” James replied. “What with Dat in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, we don’t like to leave them alone for too long.”
“Ah. That’s a big concern.” Jerome focused on Abby then. “Something tells me you know what Emma thinks of me, but you’re not going to spill it.”
Abby’s laughter rang out in the treelined road. “Anything you want to know along that line, you’ll have to ask Emma.”
“Might just do that on my way back from Clearwater.”
As they rode in silence for a while, James considered his conversational options. He was Emma’s older brother, after all . . . responsible for her, with the same protective love she gave their aging parents. He did not want his sister to live out her life as a maidel, sacrificing herself to care for the folks—but he knew that down deep, Emma was getting desperate. It would be worse for her to make a bad match than no match at all.
“Is it true, what we’re hearing, that you’ve been engaged twice and backed out on those girls?” he asked.
Leaning his elbows on his knees, Jerome let his head drop. “My reputation’s made the rounds on the Cedar Creek grapevine, has it? Guess that’s to be expected, what with so many Plain folks here having kin all around the region.”
“It’s a small world,” Abby agreed. She, too, seemed intent on hearing Jerome’s reply.
“Okay, I got cold feet about three years ago with a gal from Queen City,” Jerome admitted in a low voice. “Liked Bess just fine—until I saw the way her mamm said ‘jump’ and Bess said ‘how high?’ And her dat expected me to partner in his carpentry shop.”
Jerome shrugged, gazing at Abby and then James. “I work better with mules than with wood. And I just didn’t like the feel of that family, the day Bess introduced me and said we were getting hitched. So jah, after a lot of hard praying, I backed out.”
James considered this as he checked for traffic and then let Karl go through the intersection of the highway. “Better to realize that before the wedding than after,” he agreed. “Sometimes our Plain way of courting in secret—especially if we don’t meet the girl’s family until she’s said jah—isn’t such a gut tradition.”
“You and Abby have the ideal situation,” Jerome said. “You’ve grown up across the road from each other, with your families being friends forever. No nasty surprises that way.”
Beside him, Abby just kept smiling.
“So what about the other girl?” James insisted. “And folks are wondering why you’ve not joined the church, too.”
“Mattie set her kapp for me when we were sidesitters at my best friend’s wedding,” Jerome replied. “When we got serious, she told me she hoped to jump the fence and join the Mennonites. Wanted electricity and a car. I said I was sorry, but my faith meant more to me than such modern conveniences.”
Abby’s eyebrows rose. “You made the better choice, Jerome. Your uncle Atlee would be proud that you kept to the Old Ways.”
“Jah, that’s what Amanda said, too. But it sounds bad that I’ve jilted two fiancées,” Jerome said with a sigh. “Much as I’d like to find a nice girl—like Emma—sometimes it seems easier to stick with my mules. They don’t tell tales on me, and they don’t believe all the gossip they hear.”
James believed that Jerome was being open and honest. He wasn’t saying negative things about the girls he’d courted, or placing blame on them. “Here’s a hint about my sister,” he said quietly. “She doesn’t like fellows who come on like stampeding horses. And you may have to spend time with our parents to be with her, on account of how Emma will use Mamm and Dat as her reason for not getting out.”
“Is that so?” A slow smile spread across Jerome’s face. “Denki for sharing that, James. Give Emma my best when you get home—but don’t tell her I’m stopping by this evening. She won’t give me a lot of chances, so I’d best get my strategy straight before I approach her again.”
James chuckled. He’d heard Jerome’s story firsthand, and he had a more favorable opinion of this mule trainer now. Everyone knew his sister could be just as hardheaded as those willful creatures Jerome worked with. . . .
So as they came within sight of Wyman Brubaker’s place, James figured this road trip had more than repaid the effort he’d put into helping with Amanda’s move. If he could foster Jerome’s cause and get Emma out of the house on a date, he’d done a good day’s work, hadn’t he?
Chapter Nine
As the men hef
ted the final piece of her furniture off the wagon, Amanda watched with mixed feelings. In a few minutes they would eat Vera’s hamburger soup, along with the sandwiches Jemima had packed in the cooler and the apple bars Abby pulled out of her seemingly bottomless picnic basket. Then James and the Lambrights would return to Cedar Creek. And Jerome would go home.
Home. For a few confused moments, Amanda wondered where her home was.
Wasn’t she supposed to feel buoyant and blessed because she and her girls were now part of a whole new family? Wasn’t it wonderful that Wyman had vowed to take care of them? What a relief, that she and Jemima wouldn’t spend another winter watching their home-canned food supply dwindle, wondering if Jerome was eating less than he should to help them get by.
As she watched the men enter a shed with Jemima’s pie safe, however, Amanda’s spirits sank even lower. Eddie and Pete had hefted her heavy gas kiln and then dropped it a while ago, which meant it might not fire hot enough—or be safe to use—anymore. Would she ever find a place for the rocking chairs, sewing machine, and other family pieces now stashed on the screened porch? She had brought only the furnishings and dishes that truly meant something to her, leaving most of the household items behind for Jerome. Wyman had assured her they would make room for her belongings, just as his kids had shifted around in the bedrooms so her girls’ beds and clothing had their places.
Still, this ranked as a very difficult moment in her life . . . almost as low as coming home from the cemetery after Atlee’s funeral. Why was that?
“Mamma! Whatcha doin’?”
“Supper’s ready, Mamma!”
As her twins rushed out the front door, Amanda blinked and put on a smile. To Cora and Dora, this move was a big adventure. They were excited about sharing a room with Alice Ann, and more eager to spend time with Simon than they would admit. Amanda stooped to hug them close. “You girls have been such gut help today,” she murmured. “Soon as supper’s cleared away we’ll make up your beds in your new room, all right?”
“Jah, it’ll be fun having a little sister,” Cora said.
“Maybe we can teach Alice Ann how to talk!” Dora chimed in.
We could use a miracle like that about now, Amanda mused as she grasped their tiny hands. Then she sighed tiredly. I need to quit feeling sorry for myself.
Supper proceeded quickly, for their helpers had to drive home and tend to their animals. Even with sixteen of them around the long table, the meal was quiet for it had been a long day of lifting and riding and deciding where to put everything. Jemima’s face was drawn with fatigue and no doubt her ankles were bothering her. Pete and Eddie spoke in low voices with James and Jerome. Sam, Matt, and Wyman discussed the rising price of livestock feed as they chose brownies, pumpkin cake, and apple bars from the dessert platter.
From across the table, Abby smiled at her. “All this will feel better after a gut night’s sleep, Amanda. You’ll soon be settled into your new place, feeling like you’ve lived here forever.”
Oh, how Amanda wished she could believe that. She came out of her dismal thoughts, however, when Abby stood to scrape plates. “You’ve done so much for us, Abby,” she protested. “We’ll clean up these dishes and let you folks start home.”
Even as she said that, Amanda felt torn. Why did she wish Abby, with her sunny disposition, could stay into the evening—and longer—to help her with this transition into Wyman’s family? How could she doubt that everything would work out the way her new husband had promised?
Soon the Lambrights and James were walking to their empty wagons. With her heart in her throat, Amanda followed them across the yard. “Denki so much for all you’ve done,” she said as the men hitched up their draft horses.
Abby hugged her. “Many hands make light work. If there’s anything at all you need, you’d better well let me know!”
As the three wagons pulled out onto the road, Jerome slung his arm around Amanda’s shoulders. “Feels funny going back without you, Aunt Amanda,” he murmured.
“Jah, tell me about it.” She gazed up into his angular face. “If it gets too quiet there, you can always come visit us. Never a dull moment here amongst us Brubakers.” Her new name sounded strange, after so many years of being a Lambright.
“I’ll get tired of my own cooking pretty quick.” Jerome’s smile looked tight. “But you and Jemima left me lots of food in the freezer and notes about washing clothes and warming leftovers, so I’ll be fine. Gut practice for me.”
The nervous edge to Jerome’s voice brought to mind the early days of when he’d come to live with her and Atlee, at ten, after his parents had died in a fire. How far he’d come since then! Amanda hugged him fiercely and then let go. The longer she held him, the harder this parting would be.
“Call if you need me,” he said. “You’re letting me live on the farm, but it’s still yours. Don’t be a stranger.”
She watched him mount his horse, then waved until he was well down the road. When Amanda turned, she saw Wyman standing on the front porch watching her. What must he be thinking, if she acted so reluctant to let go of her nephew and her friends? Amanda composed herself and started for the house.
Through the screen door she heard Lizzie’s and Vera’s voices over the sound of dishes being washed. Out in the yard, Simon was throwing a tennis ball for Wags and his three younger sisters clapped gleefully when the dog caught it. Eddie and Pete were headed for the barn to do the evening chores, tussling with each other. Everyone else seemed to be fitting in just fine. . . .
Wyman opened his arms. Amanda rushed up the porch stairs and into his embrace—and then, to her horror, she burst into tears.
“Ohhhh, what’s wrong, my love?”
Why did she suddenly want to fling a long list of fears and misgivings at him, the man who had provided her with a more secure, prosperous future? It would not be a good idea to reveal how lost and frustrated she felt right now. “I’m just tuckered out,” she murmured.
“Jah, you’ve moved heaven and earth, as you know it, to be here with me,” Wyman whispered. He kissed her cheek. “What with no church service tomorrow, we can get you settled in. Everything will look better after a night’s rest.”
There it was, an echo of Abby’s earlier words.
Why was it so difficult to believe the words of those she trusted most?
• • •
Wyman woke up with a gasp. After lying awake, listening to Amanda muffle tears with her pillow, he’d finally drifted off. So why was there a child climbing into bed with them?
“Mammaaaaa,” a little girl wailed as she clambered across him. And from Amanda’s side came an echo as another body made the mattress sink and shift.
“What’s wrong?” he muttered.
“Cora? Dora?” Amanda murmured as she gathered them in her arms. “You should be in your new room—”
“Waahhhhh.” Beside Wyman, Alice Ann was smacking the mattress, trying to find him in the darkness. With a sigh, he hooked an arm around her and hoisted her up. “Jah? What’s the matter?” he whispered, desperately wishing she would talk to him instead of making him guess.
“We—hic—we was sleepin’, Mamma—”
“And there was this scary noise.”
“Jah. Like a wolf clawin’ at our wall.”
Wyman wanted to point out that their bedroom was on the second floor, well beyond where any wild animals could get them, but girls this age believed what their imaginations told them. Alice Ann had picked up on the twins’ fear and followed them, and she was now snuggling against him as though her young life depended on it.
“Shh,” Amanda murmured. “Let’s not wake everyone up. You’re fine, babies . . . probably just a bad dream.”
“But I heard it—”
“Shh!” Amanda whispered more insistently. She had a daughter in each arm, lying against her sides. “If you can’t be quie
t, you’ll have to go back to your room. All by yourselves.”
The twins’ fearful talk stopped immediately and Wyman smiled in the darkness. Soon Alice Ann’s breathing deepened, while Cora and Dora settled against their mother. It had been years since any of his kids had come to bed with him . . . Alice Ann had previously slept in Vera’s room, while Simon was always deep asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Awakening in a strange house had probably spooked Amanda’s girls and their minds were still wound up from such a major transition.
But this bed wasn’t intended for five of us. We can’t allow this nighttime drama to continue if Amanda and I are to get any sleep or . . .
When Wyman woke again, Amanda was tucking the quilt around the twins . . . slipping out of the room to dress and start her day before the sun rose. He thought back to the night they’d spent in Abby’s house after the wedding. Would that blissful night be the last private time he would have with his new wife?
He savored the warmth of the blankets until the clock on the dresser chimed five and played a delicate tune, as it had since he’d given it to Viola as a wedding gift. Carefully easing Alice Ann’s limp, warm body over to the center of the mattress with her new sisters, Wyman got up and slipped into his clothes. As he made his way down the shadowy hall, boots in hand, he heard the older boys stirring in their room and saw a girl—Lizzie, for she was too short to be his Vera—slipping into the bathroom. So far, the morning routine wasn’t all that different. More people to account for, but the same chores: the guys would head outside to the barn while the girls cooked breakfast.
The rich aroma of coffee made him close his eyes in gratitude, because Vera didn’t always have a chance to make it for him. Wyman looked forward to entering the kitchen and slipping his arms around Amanda for a hug and a long kiss before anyone could interrupt them—
But his wife was kneeling in front of Jemima, tugging her mother-in-law’s black stockings to her knees. Then Amanda tied her sturdy, thick-soled shoes.
