Caring for Susie
Amy’s Story #1
Brenda Maxfield
Copyright © 2019 by Tica House Publishing LLC
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Personal Word from the Author
Dearest Readers,
Thank you so much for choosing one of my books. I am proud to be a part of the team of writers at Tica House Publishing who work joyfully to bring you stories of hope, faith, courage, and love. Your kind words and loving readership are deeply appreciated.
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Contents
Personal Word from the Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Continue Reading…
Thank you for Reading
More Amish Romance for You
About the Author
Chapter One
Have mercy upon me, O Lord, for I am in trouble: mine eye is consumed with grief, yeah, my soul and my belly.
Psalms 31:9 KJV
Amy Yoder patted her friend Grace’s tummy. “Should be any day, ain’t so?”
Grace nodded, a dreamy look in her eyes. Then she snapped to attention. “Nee! Not any day. I’ve got a gut month left.”
“You’re big enough to be any day,” Amy said, laughing softly. “I’m excited for you, Grace.”
“It’ll be your turn soon enough,” Grace said, shifting her bulky weight in the rocking chair. She set to rocking again, taking another sip of her lemonade.
“I ain’t even engaged, so I don’t think it’ll be my turn for quite some time yet.”
Grace leaned closer. “Peter hasn’t declared himself?”
Amy shook her head. “Nee.” She frowned slightly. “You think he ever will?”
Grace laughed. “Ach, Amy. You fret too much. Of course, he will. He’s smitten with you, for sure and for certain.”
Amy leaned back in the porch swing. “I thought he was. But why hasn’t he said anything yet? Goodness, I’m twenty years old. Soon, I’ll be an old maidal.”
Grace laughed again. “You’re hardly an old maid yet, Amy.”
Amy grinned. “I s’pose not. What are you going to name the boppli?”
“Andrew has in mind to name it Ross if it’s a boy. I favor Susie if it’s a girl.”
“Ross or Susie.” Amy smiled. “They’re right nice names. Which do you hope for?”
“I’ll gladly take whatever the Lord Gott gives us. I just pray for a happy, healthy boppli.”
Amy stood. “Can I get you some more lemonade?”
“Ach, nee. If I drink anymore, I won’t make it home without visiting someone’s bathroom.”
“Well, Deacon Elias’s house is on your way home,” Amy suggested with a gleam in her eye. Deacon Elias had a reputation for being a harsh man, and Amy couldn’t imagine stopping by to use his bathroom.
Grace rolled her eyes. “Jah. I’m going to stop there all right.” Then she laughed and stood up. “I need to be getting home. Andrew will be wondering where I’ve gotten to.”
“I imagine he’ll know exactly where you’ve gotten to,” Amy said. “He won’t mind.”
“He will if I don’t get supper on the table right quick,” Grace said, already stepping down the porch stairs. She leaned heavily on the rail. “I feel as big as your dat’s barn over there.”
Amy grinned. Grace was huge. Amy had a hard time believing her friend was a month away from giving birth. But if that’s what Old Mae declared, it would be true. Old Mae had delivered nearly everyone in their Hollybrook district, and she was rarely wrong.
Amy set down the lemonade glasses and hurried down the steps to help boost Grace up into her pony cart.
“I’m thinking that next time, I’ll come to your place,” Amy said. “It’ll be a lot easier for you.”
Grace nodded. “Come soon. Visiting with you makes the time go faster.”
“I will. Mamm won’t mind. Besides, after my morning chores, I often have a bit of time before I start in again for the afternoon.”
Grace settled herself on the cart bench and picked up the reins. “Gut. I’ll expect you in a couple days, then?”
“Jah. Day after tomorrow, I’ll come by. I’ll help with your chores, too. You have a list ready for me, all right?”
Grace raised her brow. “That’d be real nice. Thanks, Amy.”
“You’re welcome. Take care.”
Grace snapped the reins and left the drive. Amy watched her go. She was happy for Grace—more than happy, if truth be told. But there was also the tiniest bit of envy poking at her heart. Why hadn’t Peter spoken yet? It was mid-summer. Wedding season came in late fall. Surely, he wouldn’t want to wait another entire year before marrying her.
She swallowed. What if he didn’t want to marry her at all? What if she was wasting her time with him? No. No. That couldn’t be the case. Could it?
She thought about Grace’s husband, Andrew. He’d declared himself after he and Grace had only been courting a few short months. Now, there was a man who took action. Why couldn’t Peter be more like him?
Sudden shame filled her heart. What was she thinking? How ungrateful could she be?
“I’m sorry, Peter,” she whispered. She climbed the porch steps, picked up the two empty glasses, and went inside.
* * *
That afternoon, Amy was mucking out the stalls in the barn when her sister Beulah came looking for her. She was waving an envelope in the air as if it were a flag.
“Lookie what I’ve got,” she said in a sing-song voice.
Amy paused in her work. “What is it?”
“A letter for you.” She made a show of studying the address on the front of the envelope. “Hmm. There’s no return address here. And you know what that means…”
Amy held out her hand. “I’ll take it.”
“It means it’s from a boy,” Beulah went on. “So interesting. I went out to the mailbox to see if I got a letter from a boy, and here’s one for you.”
She started to open it. Amy dropped her rake and ran over, snatching the envelope out of Beulah’s hand.
“It’s my letter, Beulah,” she cried.
Beulah laughed. “Ach, you should see the look on your face. Goodness, I wouldn’t really have opened it. I’m not the least interested in your romantic life.” She sighed and smiled. “I have my own to think about.”
Amy frowned. “Is it Uriah still?’
Beulah shrugged. “I’m not going to tell. You won’t tell me anything…”
“Beulah, please. Don’t let it be Uriah. You know his reputation.”
“I know nothing of the sort,” Beulah snapped. “Besides, when did you start listening so much to gossip?”
“I don’t listen to gossip.”
“Jah, you do. Otherwise, why are you warning me off Uriah?”
“Because everyone knows he’s rebellious. And he doesn’t take
his faith seriously. He fights with his dat constantly. And he spends a lot of time away. Where does he even go?”
Beulah’s face turned red. “Do you hear yourself? Is it up to us to judge others? You’re not the bishop!”
Amy clamped her mouth shut. Beulah was right. She had no business judging others. But still, she didn’t want to see her sister get hurt. And Uriah was bad news. Gossip or not, he just was.
Beulah snorted. “I’m not telling you who to like. I’m not bossing you around. You’re only one year older than me, Amy. One little year. It doesn’t give you the right to—”
Amy held up her hand. “I know. I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Beulah looked only mildly mollified. “All right.” She gazed at the letter in Amy’s hand. “You going to tell me who that’s from?”
“I haven’t even opened it yet.”
“Maybe not. But you already know who’d be writing you. I have a couple ideas. Either Peter Raber or John Verkler.”
Amy felt her cheeks color.
“I knew it!” Beulah cried. “It’s Peter, ain’t so?”
Amy sighed. “Maybe.”
“Maybe nothing. It is.” Beulah narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. “I approve of him. He’s gut-looking and he seems nice enough.” She took a step closer. “Even if he is a bit boring.”
“Beulah.”
“Well, it’s true. There’s no sass there. He’s so calm. But no matter. He suits you.”
“So, you’re saying I’m boring?”
Beulah laughed. “Ach, Amy. I’m happy for you. He’s a gut person. Dat will be pleased.”
“You won’t tell Dat,” Amy said quickly. “Will you? We’re only riding out together.”
Beulah grimaced. “Give me some credit, Amy.” And with that she sighed and left the barn.
Amy looked down at the envelope in her hand. It was from Peter—she’d recognized his hand-writing straight away. She tore the envelope open and unfolded the paper inside.
Dear Amy,
By my calculations, you’ll get this letter tomorrow. I’m hoping to take an evening ride with you on Wednesday. Can you meet me at the end of your drive? I’ll be there around eight o’clock. We can go to Edmund’s Pond if you like. Or we can just drive around in my buggy.
I hope your day is going well. I look forward to seeing you.
Your friend,
Peter
Amy read the letter twice. That evening? She would love to go riding with Peter. She looked down at her now soiled apron. Mucking out the stalls was hardly a tidy endeavor. She’d have to clean up before she went. Perhaps she could wear her new brown cape dress.
Her eyes lingered on his signature. “Your friend,” he’d written. Friend? Is that all he considered himself to her? Slightly annoyed, she tucked the letter and envelope in her waistband and picked up her rake again. She should be finished here in another half hour.
Chapter Two
Peter brushed down his buggy horse, taking care to get the tangles out of her mane and tail. Then he ran an old towel over the outside of his father’s buggy. He wished he had a courting buggy to pick up Amy in, but his dad’s everyday buggy would have to do. Someday, Peter would have his own buggy. His grandfather was becoming more and more frail, and he had as much as promised Peter that soon his buggy and horse would become his. Not that Peter wanted to hurry that along. He hoped his grandfather’s health would hold, and he’d still live a good long time.
But still…
He couldn’t help but think about it.
He paused and stared at the gleam on the side of the buggy, thinking. Amy Yoder was such a lovely girl. She had a way about her that simply drew him in. He loved to see her smile. One of her front teeth was a bit crooked, but it only added to her charm. And she was sweet and good and kind. And when she laughed, why, it made him want to laugh, too.
When he’d first asked her to ride with him, he’d been so nervous that he was sure she’d hear his heart hammering away. And he was sweating. He wanted her to say yes so badly. And when she had, he’d nearly punched the air with excitement. But, of course, he contained himself, simply smiling and making arrangements to pick her up.
She’d make an excellent wife—like the woman in Proverbs 31 in the Bible.
He started rubbing the side of the buggy again, even though there wasn’t a speck of dust on it. His folks would know he was courting someone. He wondered if they would guess who it was. In any case, they’d be pleased with his choice. Amy was that kind of girl. Any parent would be pleased to welcome her into the family.
The district was well into the growing season which meant that wedding season was coming. Well, not for a good handful of months yet, but still… He wasn’t of a mind to wait another entire year to ask Amy to marry him. But then, he wasn’t prepared to take on a wife yet. He didn’t have much to call his own. Oh, they could live with his folks for the first year. But since his daadi was still in the daadi haus, he wasn’t sure Amy would be in favor of just moving into his bedroom with him.
He should be providing more. And his dad hadn’t settled on whether he would be giving any of his acreage to Peter. Peter assumed he would, but he couldn’t be sure. Maybe he should have a talk with his dad about it. He wished he had some kind of trade. He knew that Ezekiel Lapp was selling his buggy shop, but what did Peter know about repairing buggies?
Not much.
Peter was a farmer, and he liked it. He needed to have his own land and home, but it’d be a long day before he could afford either. And he wasn’t wanting to wait so long for Amy.
Patience, he thought. Patience. God honored those who waited on Him.
“Peter?” His brother Daniel wandered over to him. “That buggy ain’t dirty. What are you doing?”
“Just giving it a quick rub-down,” Peter said, making one last swipe to the back of the buggy. “What did you need?”
“Wanna go fishing?”
“Fishing? It’s going to be dark soon.”
“Nee, it ain’t. We got a couple hours yet. We could go on down to Edmund’s Pond. Johnny caught a huge trout there just yesterday.”
“I can’t go. I’m busy.”
Daniel surveyed the buggy. “Nee, you ain’t. It’s clean.”
“I can’t go.”
“But nobody else wants to go with me neither. Come on, Peter. You like fishing.”
Peter tilted his head. “That I do. But I’m busy, I tell you.”
Daniel narrowed his eyes. “Doin’ what?”
Peter fist-bumped his brother’s shoulder. “Never you mind.”
“And why are you so worried about cleaning that buggy—” Daniel’s brow shot up to his forehead. “You’re courting!” he cried. “Who is she?”
“Never you mind,” Peter repeated, going into the barn to toss the towel onto the work bench.
Daniel followed him inside. “I’m gonna keep guessing until you tell me.”
“Then, keep guessing…” Peter said, grinning. “Cause I ain’t telling you a thing.”
“Come on, Peter. I’m your brother.”
“Jah. And I got four other brothers who’ll want to know, too. So keep your lips zipped. And get one of them to go fishing with you.”
“None of them wanna go.”
“Well, I can’t go. Now, scoot.” Peter waved his arm as if shooing his brother away.
“You’re no fun at all,” Daniel complained. He gave Peter a disgusted look and then left the barn with drooping shoulders.
Peter shook his head and grinned. And then he started toward the house to get cleaned up. Not long now until he picked up Amy.
* * *
“I’m going out, Mamm,” Amy told her mother. “I won’t be too late.”
Fiona Yoder looked up from her knitting. “Oh?”
“I’ll see you later,” Amy said and headed for the side door through the wash room.
“Wait,” her mother stopped her.
Amy paused, turning back around.
“Jah?”
“You going out riding?”
Amy’s cheeks grew warm. “Jah.”
Fiona smiled. “I see. You have a nice time.” And she went back to her knitting, only this time, she had a big grin on her face.
Amy darted away. Of course, her mother would know she was courting. Why else would a girl of marriageable age disappear in the evening? At least, her mother hadn’t drilled her about it. But then, she wouldn’t, would she? Such things were kept private. Amy was doubly glad about that because if Peter didn’t want to marry her, Amy didn’t want to answer questions about it to her parents.
She paused in the wash room long enough to put on her heavy black shoes. Before putting them on, she scrutinized them, making sure there wasn’t mud along the sides of them. There’d been a good amount of rain lately, and while she often went barefoot outside, she did sometimes wear her shoes. But they looked clean enough, so she slipped them on and ran outside. She walked sedately down the drive, in case Peter was watching. It wouldn’t do for her to dash to see him.
That wouldn’t do at all.
Amy needn’t have worried. Peter wasn’t there when she got to the end of the long driveway. She stepped under the branches of a large maple tree to wait. She hadn’t misunderstood, had she? She licked her lips nervously. She hardly wanted someone passing by to see her standing under the tree like a sorry old maid, hoping for a beau to show up.
She grimaced and shook her head. Goodness, but her imagination was a bit too active sometimes. Nevertheless, she stepped further back, hoping the tree would hide her from anyone coming by.
An Englisch car zoomed down the road, so fast that she was sure the occupants wouldn’t have seen her. Not that it would matter. But oddly, it did seem as if someone in the back seat had stared out the window. She hadn’t been able to see them clearly, but something about the person was familiar.
Caring For Susie (Amy's Story Book 1) Page 1
