Amanda Weds a Good Man

by Naomi King

  “So, Mamma, do we get our old rooms back?” Lizzie asked eagerly. “Where will we put the boys?”

  “I don’t want Simon in our room!” Cora declared.

  “Jah, because he sneaks Wags in at night,” Dora said. “He wants to help Jerome with the mules, so maybe he should sleep out in the barn with them!”

  Amanda turned to smile at her daughters, who were clearly excited about this return to Bloomingdale. “Let’s remember that Vera and Simon shifted into different rooms when we moved into their house, so we should share and be willing to change, just like they were,” she replied. “And it’s not like we’re staying for gut, you know.”

  “I have a suggestion,” Jemima said. “It would suit me just fine to sleep in the dawdi haus, which would open up a room for Eddie and Pete . . . and get me out of the main bathroom, too.”

  Amanda smiled ruefully, for her mother-in-law had felt like she was in the way at the Brubaker place. “If you’re sure you’ll be all right—”

  “A downstairs room is better for me anyway, with these legs acting up,” Jemima insisted. “Probably should’ve moved into those rooms long ago . . . and it’ll be quieter there. No pitter-patter of little feet in the hallway at night.”

  “But, Mammi,” Cora said. “We won’t need to go to Mamma’s room anymore, because that wolf doesn’t live at our house.”

  “Jah, he won’t be scratching on our wall or howling anymore,” Dora chimed in.

  “That would be an improvement,” Amanda murmured. After finding a metal currycomb beneath Simon’s bed yesterday, she and Wyman had confirmed where those scratching noises had been coming from, and this change of houses would be the perfect opportunity to stop them. “What do you think, Lizzie? Would you and Vera rather share Mammi’s old room?” she asked. “We’ll let Jerome stay put, and your dat and I will be in my room, and we could put a bunk in the sewing room for Simon. But I’ll put you girls in charge of where Alice Ann and the twins should go, and Eddie and Pete, too.”

  “Jah, that works!” Lizzie said. “Vera, you and I can go upstairs and figure that out first thing.”

  “Jerome will help you shift beds or set up the extra ones we’ve stored in the attic.” Amanda checked that chore off her mental list. It would be best for the older girls to arrange their siblings’ rooms and clothes, anyway, while the boys helped Wyman with the unloading. She and Wyman had agreed that all the kids needed more responsibility, and that they should be held accountable for their decisions, too.

  She glanced at Jemima. “Shall we stop by the mercantile? See if they’ll load our frozen food and those cooking supplies Abby offered us? You and I could get the kitchen whipped into shape that way, and make dinner, along with something to take for tomorrow’s common meal.”

  “Jah, and if I do the cooking that’ll free you up to tell the fellows where to put things as they unload.” Jemima was trying to suppress a satisfied grin. “Even if Jerome’s left the place looking like a bachelor’s hideout, it’ll be gut to have my kitchen back . . . if only for a few weeks, jah?”

  “We’ll know more about that after Wyman talks to the carpenters. He hasn’t had time to call them, busy as we’ve been.” Amanda hadn’t let on to Wyman or the kids, but she harbored a secret hope that the rebuilding would take most of the winter. Was she being selfish? It would be so good to worship with old friends tomorrow . . . to eat meals cooked in the kitchen she’d known since she’d married Atlee, and to watch autumn ease into winter through the large, sunny windows in the room where she’d worked on her pottery.

  It won’t be the same without my wheel and clay and glazes . . . but I’ll be too busy to notice, she told herself. And if the girls want that nice downstairs room for themselves, well, I don’t have a gut reason to refuse them, do I?

  As they rounded the bend near Cedar Creek, Amanda could see that most of the downed trees and broken windows had been cleaned up to the point it didn’t look like this little town had even seen a storm. Neighbor helping neighbor, she mused. That’s how it’s supposed to be. She had hardly halted the horse in the mercantile’s parking lot before Sam stepped outside.

  “You gals got an early start!” he said cheerfully. “Let me tell Abby you’re here. She and Emma put a few things together for you.”

  Moments later Sam was pulling a wooden cart toward the wagon, and as he lifted bulk bags of flour and other kitchen staples to the wagon bed, Vera and Lizzie shifted them over beside the other packed boxes. Abby, too, came outside with a cart that was filled with bundles wrapped in brown paper while Emma walked along beside her, holding a garment bag.

  “You ladies have a busy day ahead of you,” Emma remarked. “I can’t imagine changing houses and having to move your things again so soon. James and the folks send you their best.”

  “Mamm and Eunice and Emma and I had our own little sewing frolic last night,” Abby added as she beamed at Amanda. “We got some dresses made, and then we wrapped up some socks and underthings from the store—”

  “And I’d better see a bill for the fabric and the underwear—not to mention for the cooking supplies,” Amanda rasped. Who would have believed such generosity? As she helped Abby and Emma hand the packages up to the girls in the wagon, she saw that each one was labeled—and there was a bundle for each member of the family, not just for the kids who had lost their clothes. “Wyman will have a fit when he sees how much you’ve given us.”

  “I’ll handle Wyman,” Sam replied with a chuckle. “Stop by with the kids who lost shoes and boots, and we’ll fix you up with the right sizes. Got a new shipment in last week.”

  Amanda let out an exasperated sigh. “Wyman will insist on paying you,” she repeated, “and we’ll just have to have all you Lambrights out for dinner soon—and, Emma, I want you and James and your parents to come along, too. How about a week from tomorrow, when it’s a visiting Sunday?”

  Emma’s expression vacillated, as though she’d really love to come yet she felt hesitant. “That’ll depend on how Mamm and Dat are doing that day,” she hedged.

  Abby glanced quizzically at her friend as she emptied her wagon. “That would be nice, Amanda. We’d love to come,” she insisted. “And I’ve got Gail covering for me in the store today, so if you need help unpacking I can go with you right now.”

  When Emma handed up the garment bag, Amanda counted six hangers. How on earth had these busy women found time to sew up that many dresses since yesterday? And now Abby was offering to spend her day helping them, as well. “Denki so much,” Amanda murmured, “but you’ve already gone above and beyond, Abby. I’m putting the kids in charge of setting up their rooms, and with Jerome and the Miller fellows helping, we’ll be settled in no time.”

  Sam slung his arm around her shoulder. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, cousin, but Jerome has already paid for your groceries and some new pie pans and bowls and what-not. I suspect he’s real glad to have his favorite cooks moving back home for a while.”

  Up on the seat, Jemima laughed. “Well, what do you think about that? I might just find the time to make that boy a raisin sour cream pie today.”

  “Jah, he made sure we put in a big bag of raisins.” Abby flashed Amanda a grin. “We’ll be right back! Don’t leave yet.”

  “Jah, we couldn’t carry everything on this last trip,” Emma added as she hurried toward the store behind Abby.

  Now what were they going to do? Amanda knew better than to protest their generosity any further, even as she surveyed the huge stack of staples and clothing the Lambrights had added to their load. “Looks like the frozen food should wait until the men come through,” she suggested. “They’re loading the animals into Ray’s stock trailer, so they’ll have room for it in the buggies and the other wagon.”

  “That’ll work. You’ll be settled in no time, and then your Clearwater house will be rebuilt, and all of these inconveniences will be behind y
ou,” Sam said. His expression sobered then. “After that, it’s a matter of how you work everything out with your bishop. But the Lord will see to that, as well.”

  “Jah, He will,” she said, hoping she sounded confident rather than doubtful. “Uriah’s none too happy about us leaving the district when I was to make my kneeling confession tomorrow, but we all have to wait occasionally. Even bishops, ain’t so?”

  “That’s one way to look at it, jah. Hope you get these matters—”

  “Here you go!” Abby rushed around the side of the wagon with a lidded container, which she pressed into Amanda’s hands. “Even though James and I won’t be watching the kids for you this weekend, I thought a certain somebody might be tickled to have these.”

  At that, Cora and Dora peered eagerly over the side of the wagon. “What’s in there?” one twin asked while her sister said, “Let’s look now! I bet Abby made us some goodies!”

  Amanda laughed. “This pan will ride up front with Mammi and me, so everyone sees this surprise when we eat our dinner,” she said. “Denki ever so much, Abby.”

  “And here’s a little something for your breakfast,” Emma said as she handed a rectangular pan to Jemima. “You gals have a lot to do today, without worrying about baking for Sunday, too.”

  Jemima lifted the lid of the pan and chuckled when she saw its contents. “Why do I suspect you made these for another certain somebody at our place?” she asked.

  As Emma’s cheeks flushed, her brow furrowed. “Now don’t you go thinking I—I baked anything for Jerome,” she stammered. “Matter of fact, if he carries on as though these sticky buns are especially for him, you’d better set him straight right off. He’s been nice to my folks lately, jah, but that doesn’t mean I’ll go out on even one date with him.”

  Amanda blinked, while Sam and Abby seemed surprised by Emma’s declaration, as well. “I still hope you and James will bring your parents next Sunday,” Amanda repeated. “Wyman and I want to thank you for all you’ve done—and it’ll be a fine time to celebrate everyone surviving the storm and moving beyond it.”

  “Can’t think of a better reason for getting together,” Sam agreed. He reached up to clasp her hand. “Have a gut day with your move, Amanda—and if there’s anything you need, you know where to come.”

  As Amanda drove on down the county blacktop toward Bloomingdale, her mind was spinning yet again. She wasn’t sure what to think about Emma’s attitude toward Jerome—but was there no end to Sam’s generosity and Abby’s surprises? If she could make any request at all, she would have her cousin the preacher convince Uriah Schmucker to back down from his hard-line attitude about the state of her soul and its salvation. But as Sam had said, the Lord would see that everything happened the way He wanted it to. Patience and prayer were her best friends. . . .

  Such concerns disappeared once they pulled into the familiar old farm lane. Oh, but it was good to see Jerome stepping out onto the porch and it was music to her ears as the girls laughed and jumped down to hug him. Even though Vera hung back, gazing around the yard and at the house as she talked quietly to Alice Ann, Wyman’s eldest child seemed ready to accept this temporary home with an open heart.

  And wasn’t it a joy to watch Lizzie take Vera by the hand, chattering about the different rooms they had to choose from? Lizzie seemed like her former self again—looking forward to school with her friends, smiling and laughing and singing while she’d chased down the chickens this morning. Cora and Dora followed their sisters inside, their faces bright with the excitement of returning to the house where they’d been born.

  Jerome helped Jemima down from the wagon and then slipped an arm around the two women’s shoulders. “I’m sorry about the circumstances,” he murmured, “but it’s mighty gut to have you gals home. Hope I haven’t left the place in more of a mess—”

  “Puh!” Jemima tweaked his nose, a gesture that had irritated him as a kid. “Takes more than a little mess to keep me out of this kitchen.”

  “And I will see that Wyman repays you for all that food,” Amanda insisted as she playfully jabbed his chest with her finger. “You had no reason to—”

  “Ah, but I didn’t need a reason,” Jerome stated simply. “After all the years you and Uncle Atlee looked after me, it’s my turn to do the looking-after, ain’t so? And maybe I’m practicing for when I have a wife to take care of.”

  Amanda’s eyebrows shot up, but she kept her comments—and Emma’s remarks—to herself. It was no secret that her nephew had his eye on the Graber girl and she didn’t want to be the one to disappoint him.

  Jemima, however, let out a grunt as Jerome helped her down from the wagon seat. “Don’t get your hopes up, far as Emma Graber goes,” she remarked. “She might’ve made us some sticky buns, but she’s not sending you any encouragement to go with them. Made that pretty clear, she did.”

  Oh, but Amanda felt sorry for her nephew when his smile dropped. He’d been trying so hard to prove himself worthy, but it was best to let him work through his feelings about Emma for himself.

  “Jah, well.” Jerome adjusted his hat, gesturing toward the road. “We’ve got company.”

  The hum of a truck engine and the thunderous clip-clop! clip-clop! announced the arrival of the stock wagon and the three other vehicles Wyman had decided to bring over from Clearwater. As the parade entered the lane, a little arm shot up in a wild wave.

  “Jerome, hi! Remember me and Wags?”

  “Hey there, Simon,” Jerome called out. “Gut to see you!”

  “Can we go see your mules?”

  Jerome chuckled as the Fishers’ pickup rumbled in front of him. He directed Trevor and Ray toward the barn, then ambled over to meet Wyman’s approaching wagon. When Jerome held up his arms, Simon leaped into them.

  “You can help me feed and water those mules later today, Simon,” he said as he turned the boy upside down to make him laugh. “Right now, you can help us guys put your animals and all this furniture where your mamm wants it.”

  Once again Amanda was dumbstruck. There on the wagon she saw her treadle sewing machine, her mamm’s china hutch, and Jemima’s pie safe. The legs of the maple bedroom set Atlee had crafted for her peeked out from beneath old quilts. But what did this mean? Did Wyman never intend to find room for her furniture in the Brubaker house? He hadn’t said a word about bringing these pieces along for the family’s temporary relocation. . . .

  “Don’t look so worried, Aunt Amanda,” Jerome murmured as he carried a cane-seated rocking chair toward the front door. “A little bird told Wyman this furniture would feel just as gut in its old home as you would. And he listened! That’s progress, jah?”

  Amanda’s throat tightened, but she refused to cry. She was finished with all those tears, because it seemed everyone she loved was conspiring to make her happy. God was bringing joy and love and peace home to roost like pigeons—or like the chickens squawking in their makeshift pen—and she had plenty of room in her heart for all of those emotions.

  “Denki, Wyman,” she whispered when her husband kissed her lightly. “With all the surprises the Lambrights had for us, seeing my furniture is, well—it’s the frosting on the cake.”

  When Wyman smiled at her, he looked handsome and . . . downright relaxed, as though his recent worries had disappeared. “Let’s try for some cake and frosting every day, shall we?”

  Amanda smiled. Was it her imagination, or had the sky just grown bluer and had the autumn leaves turned even more brilliant in the morning sunshine? “Jah, Wyman. We can do that.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  As Wyman sat among the men of the Bloomingdale district, eating the common meal after Sunday’s church service, it struck him: everyone here was so friendly. Laughter filled the crowded front room, which had been extended by taking down the wall partitions to set up for church. The Hilty family was hosting today, and the women circulated among the l
ong tables, pouring more water and tea, passing trays of sandwiches. Folks were smiling as though this was a special party to welcome him, his kids, and Amanda’s family home. Wyman hardly knew a soul—but he wanted to.

  “What a difference in atmosphere,” he murmured to Eddie, seated on his left.

  “Jah, back in Clearwater I bet they’re talking of hellfire and damnation, on account of how Amanda’s not there to repent,” his son replied. “Truth be told, Dat, I’ve not been inclined to join the church partly because of the way Uriah treated Mamm—and now the way he and the others are picking on Amanda. It doesn’t seem very Christian, you know?”

  And wasn’t that a notable observation from his critical, more rebellious son? At the next table, Pete sat beside Jerome, chatting with several younger fellows . . . Simon had chosen to join Cora and Dora at a table where other youngsters and their mothers were eating . . . Vera giggled loudly at something one of Lizzie’s friends had just said. While he had visited other districts for weddings and funerals, it was the ordinary Sunday services that bespoke the true personality of a Plain community. He had felt as though Preacher Dwayne Lehman’s sermon on a passage from Joshua had been chosen specifically for him, as well. Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the LORD thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.

  While Wyman wasn’t afraid of Uriah Schmucker, he had certainly been dismayed by his bishop’s attitude—and now this Bible verse was nudging him to think outside the tightly defined world where he’d lived all his life. He was pleased when Eddie went over to mingle with a cluster of young people who’d finished eating . . . noticed how his son chatted with a couple of the girls, who responded to him with enthusiastic nods and smiles. And when he caught Amanda’s eye from across the noisy room, her expression made him hold his breath. She looked so relaxed. So happy. She was laughing with her friends as she had done before she met him . . . unaware of the transformation that Wyman could see so clearly.