The Widower (Amy's Story Book 3) Read online

  The Widower

  Amy’s Story #3

  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.

  I would like to personally invite you to sign up for updates and to become part of our Exclusive Reader Club—it’s completely Free to join! We’d love to welcome you!

  Much love,

  Brenda Maxfield

  CLICK HERE to Join our Reader’s Club and to Receive Tica House Updates!

  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

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Continue Reading…

  Thank you for Reading

  More Amish Romance for You

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Blessed is the man that trusteth in the Lord, and whose hope the Lord is.

  Jeremiah 17:7 KJV

  “Hurry up,” Amy told her sister, Beulah. “Mamm is gonna wonder why we’ve been gone so long.”

  Amy tapped her foot in the aisle of the Feed & Supply while her sister perused the display of spices that took up an entire two shelves.

  “Just a second,” Beulah said, completely unruffled by Amy’s impatience. “I’m thinking about creating a new cookie recipe, and these things can’t be hurried.”

  “A new cookie recipe? You?”

  Beulah made a face. “I bake.”

  “True. But I’ve never known you to get creative about it.”

  Beulah straightened up and turned to face Amy. “That’s because I didn’t know how much Uriah loves cookies. Now, I do.”

  Amy rolled her eyes. Uriah, again. She’d tried to warn her sister off him more than once, but as always, her concern fell on deaf ears.

  “I’ll wait for you at the pony cart,” she told Beulah. It was a lovely day and waiting outside would be much more pleasant than standing in the aisle. She went to the front of the store to put the supplies she’d picked up for her mother on the counter.

  “You glad to be home?” Eliza Troyer, whose family owned the store, asked her.

  Amy nodded. In truth, she wasn’t all that glad to be home after spending nearly a month with Andrew Miller and his newborn daughter, Susie. Since her best friend Grace’s sudden tragic death, Amy had taken over the care of Susie. She still missed Grace desperately.

  More than she even thought she would.

  “It’s a gut thing Grace’s folks finally returned from Pennsylvania. I imagine you must’ve thought you and your sister would be stuck at Andrew’s forever.” Eliza began ringing up her purchases on the old cash register.

  “I didn’t mind,” Amy said. She hadn’t minded at all, and for some reason, Eliza’s tone grated on her.

  “I always thought it mighty odd that Grace’s folks missed their own daughter’s funeral.” Eliza clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Such a shame.”

  “Mavis didn’t have much choice,” Amy said, wondering why she was coming to the woman’s defense. The moment Mavis and Bart had returned to Hollybrook, Mavis had been wretched to her—practically kicking her and her sister out of Andrew’s house to take over Susie’s care herself.

  “I reckon you’re right,” Eliza remarked, her shrill voice carrying throughout the store. “But still. I wouldn’t be missing my own daughter’s funeral even if my dat was deathly ill.”

  Amy let out her breath. She didn’t want to be having this conversation.

  “You want this to go on your family’s account?” Eliza asked, ringing up the last item.

  “Nee. I’ll pay this time.” Amy took out a roll of bills and paid. She waited while Eliza put her purchases in a paper bag and handed them to her.

  “I thought you came in with Beulah.”

  “She’s still looking at spices. I’ll wait for her outside. If she decides to buy something, you can put that on Dat’s account.”

  Amy darted outside before Eliza could say anything further. She walked down the steps and over to where she’d parked the pony cart. She put her purchases in the back bed and then leaned against the side of the cart and took a long deep breath. She closed her eyes, feeling the fresh air cleanse her lungs.

  She wasn’t the same person she’d been before Grace had died. She’d changed. She was impatient now, and she didn’t sleep as well. Truth be told, Amy was uncomfortable much of the time. Her thoughts kept circling back to Grace and Andrew and Susie. And she worried. Was Mavis taking good care of the baby? Was Susie missing her?

  And Andrew? Was he doing all right? Was he healing from his devastating loss?

  Because Amy didn’t feel like she was healing. In fact, her grief seemed to be getting worse lately, not better. Not even spending time with her fiancé Peter calmed her these days. What was wrong with her, anyway? She didn’t like who she was becoming—cranky and short-tempered.

  She heard a buggy pull into the expansive parking area and opened her eyes. Her heart lurched, and she felt her cheeks go hot. Andrew.

  She hadn’t seen him since he’d dropped her back at home a week earlier. He spotted her right then, and a smile covered his face. He parked his buggy and secured the reins, coming right over to her.

  “Amy.”

  “Hello, Andrew.” She blinked and felt suddenly self-conscious. She was glad no one else was in the parking lot. The few customers at the shop were still inside.

  “Ach, but it’s gut to see you.” He was grinning widely now, his face animated. “I… Well, how are you?”

  How was she? Rotten, that was how she was.

  “I’m fine,” she said, putting on a smile. She wanted to step closer to him, ask him about Susie, find out all the details of their lives since she’d been at his house.

  His smile faded a bit, but his eyes remained on hers. “I imagine you’re wondering about Susie…”

  Amy sucked in her breath and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  “She’s doing gut,” he said, but there was something in his look…

  “Is she?”

  He nodded. “Jah. Real gut.”

  She didn’t believe him, but she could hardly spout that out, now could she?

  Just then, Beulah emerged from the store. “Andrew!” she called, waving. She came right over to them. “Nice to see you. How’s Susie?”

  “Gut.”

  Beulah frowned. “Tell the truth, Andrew.”

  Andrew’s eyes widened and an immediate look of guilt covered his face. “She misses Amy.”

  Amy’s throat tightened with tears. She opened her mouth slightly to breathe better.

  “Of course, she does,” Beulah said. “Who wouldn’t? And who would want that mean old Mavis taking care of them, anyway?”

  “Beulah!” Amy cried, shocked as usual by her sister’s remar
k. “I’m sorry, Andrew.”

  “Don’t you go apologizing for me. You know it’s true, and so does Andrew,” Beulah said. “Wait. I think I forgot something in the store. I’ll be right back.” And with that, she was gone.

  Amy shook her head. “I am sorry.”

  “She’s right.” Andrew shrugged.

  “Susie misses me?” Amy asked, her heart aching.

  “She does. Mavis is doing a fine job with her. She’s working hard. But Susie is different. Even her cries sound different to me.”

  “How? Is she in pain?”

  “I think she’s sad,” Andrew said. “She wants you.”

  “But you said… Mavis said—" Amy choked out.

  “I know. I know what Mavis said about you not coming around anymore. That it would confuse the baby. And I agreed. I agreed.” He sighed heavily. “But so far, I’m wondering if I was wrong. I think Susie is sad and wants you and I have the power to do something about it, but I’m not doing a thing.” His eyes misted over. “But I understand the issue. If you do see Susie and then you keep leaving her, it will be worse. Won’t it?”

  His eyes pleaded with her. She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. “I don’t know.” She was ready to burst into tears. “It’s likely, ain’t so?”

  How her arms ached to hold Susie. How her lips ached to shower kisses over the sweet baby’s face.

  “If things don’t change soon, I don’t know if I’ll be able to take it. She’s sad, Amy. Sad.”

  The tears welling in Amy’s eyes spilled over. “I’m sorry…”

  He blew out his breath and blinked hard. “What am I doing?” he asked. “Why am I telling you all this? I’m only making it worse for you.”

  It was true—he was making it worse for her. But Amy wanted to know—she wanted to know everything about Susie.

  “I apologize.” He looked toward the store. “I need to get a few things. I’ll be seeing you around.”

  He turned abruptly and walked away. Amy’s heart felt torn from her chest. She shouldn’t be there, standing in the middle of the parking lot. She should be at Andrew’s house, taking care of Susie. Feeding her and burping her and changing her and holding her and…

  Nee. Nee. Nee.

  Stop thinking about it. Amy wiped at her tears and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Where was Beulah? Amy needed to get out of there. She climbed into the cart and picked up the reins. If Beulah didn’t come out right away…

  Beulah burst through the door and ran down to the cart, climbing in. “Let’s go.”

  Amy snapped the reins on Trotter’s rump, and they were off. “What did you need back there?” she asked her sister.

  “You been crying?” Beulah asked, staring at her.

  “What did you need?” Amy repeated. “Why did you go back into the Feed & Supply?”

  “I didn’t need a thing, you silly girl. I was giving you time to be alone with Andrew. I’m surprised you didn’t figure that out.”

  “You what…?”

  “You heard me just fine. I wasn’t about to hang around when you finally got the chance to see Andrew again.”

  “I thought we settled this,” Amy said. “I thought you agreed to be happy about my engagement to Peter. I thought you agreed to stop making insinuations about me and Andrew.”

  “I did agree, but now, I’m changing my mind.”

  “Beulah…”

  “Ach, Amy. Lighten up. What difference does it make what I think? You don’t really listen to me, anyway.”

  Amy pressed her lips together. She had nothing to say to that. Her sister was right—she usually didn’t listen to her.

  Not too much, anyway.

  Chapter Two

  Peter walked back to the barn, exhausted from a long day in the fields. He rolled his right shoulder—it had been bothering him all day. Likely from working on fence posts the day before. He entered the barn and stopped short. It was gone. His daadi’s buggy was gone. But where? His daadi hadn’t driven it for months and months. In truth, his daadi didn’t drive at all anymore; it hurt his arthritic hands to grip the reins.

  So, where was it? His grandfather had promised both the buggy and his horse to Peter more than a year ago. Peter had counted on that. He didn’t have much to call his own, but he was proud and eager to inherit his daadi’s buggy and horse.

  And now it was gone. Maybe his father had taken it out. Or one of his brothers. But neither of those scenarios were likely. He turned back toward the house, hurrying now.

  “Dat?” he called when he entered the side door of the house. He went through the wash room without removing his shoes, something he never did. “Dat?”

  Wilma Raber turned from the cook stove. “Ach, Peter. You’re trailing in dust and dirt. Get them shoes off.”

  “Where’s Dat?”

  Wilma studied her son’s face, and her shoulders sagged. “You noticed, then.”

  “Noticed what? That Daadi’s buggy is gone? My buggy?”

  “It weren’t yours yet, Peter Raber.”

  “Where’s Dat?”

  “In the front room.” She clicked off the gas burner and set the pot aside, hurrying after Peter.

  Zack Raber was at the desk, bending over his ledger book. He glanced over when Peter came bursting into the room.

  “Peter,” he said, his voice resigned. “Sit down.”

  “Where’s Daadi’s buggy? Did one of my brothers take it?”

  “Nee.”

  “Then where is it?” Peter watched his father’s expression, and his chest constricted. Something was going on, and he wasn’t going to like it.

  “Sit down,” his father repeated.

  Peter didn’t want to sit down, but he obeyed, perching on the edge of the davenport. “What?”

  “Your daadi’s buggy was sold.”

  Peter jumped up. “Sold? Why? You know he promised that to me.”

  “I know he did. Sit down.” His father’s voice took on an edge.

  Peter again obediently sat down.

  “We had no choice, son. We need the money.”

  Peter blinked. Had he heard right? “What do you mean? The crop is strong this year. You’ve said so a million times. We’ll have plenty of money when we harvest.”

  “The crop is gut…” Zach looked at Peter’s mother, who stood just inside the door twisting her apron. “It will be enough to pay back most of the loan, but not enough to live on.”

  “The loan? What loan?”

  Zach sighed heavily. Peter saw the age around his father’s eyes. Funny how he’d never noticed that before. “You remember two years ago? Most of our crops got flooded out.”

  “We re-planted.”

  “Jah, but we lost most of our profit that year.”

  “We made it through.” Dread inched its way up Peter’s spine.

  “We made it through because I took out a loan.”

  “You never said—”

  “I ain’t obligated to tell you boys everything,” his father snapped. Then he slumped. “I haven’t been able to make all the payments on time. And I’ve got a balloon payment due.”

  “But—” Peter’s mind swirled.

  “We needed the money from the buggy. And there will be other changes around here. We’ll be tightening the belt.”

  “Tightening the…” Peter frowned. “Why didn’t you say anything? Does Daadi know you sold his buggy?”

  Zach nodded. “He wasn’t happy about it until I explained things. I told him that I’d tell you.”

  “But you didn’t…”

  “I knew you’d notice. It went this morning when you were in the fields.” Zach’s expression stiffened. “I ain’t happy about this neither, Peter.”

  “And…” Wilma began and then stopped.

  “And what?” Peter asked.

  “And… Well, um…”

  “What?”

  “We’re thinking that you might want to put off your wedding. Being engaged for a year ain’t so unc
ommon you know.”

  Again, Peter came up off the davenport. “What?”

  “Your mamm is right. We’ve talked about it. Now ain’t the best time to be adding another member to the family.”

  “But, but…” Peter was sputtering now, trying to come to grips with what he was hearing. “Her folks already know. And what am I supposed to say to Amy? She’s planning on being wed come November.”

  “It’s going to have to be next November, son,” Zack said.

  “It’s best…” Wilma added.

  “And there’s one more thing.” Zack stood up now and faced Peter. He was as tall as his son, so they were looking eye to eye. “We need you to move up north and work in the factory there. You’ll be staying with your onkel Marvin and his family. They’re expecting you next week. Marvin has arranged a job in the trailer factory where he works. We’ll need you to send us your wages.”

  Peter gaped at his father. How could any of this be? Was he having a nightmare?

  “You’ll take the bus,” his mother said softly. “We’ll miss you, Peter.”

  He turned to her. “Miss me? You’ll miss me?” he cried. “What of my life? What of Amy? Can’t you send one of my brothers—”

  Zack’s face darkened. “You are the eldest son. You will go. I don’t want to hear another word about it. This isn’t our choice neither, Peter, but it’s necessary.”

  Wilma stepped forward. “Amy will understand,” she said. “If she’s half the girl you think she is, she’ll understand. Things happen in families. We just have to adjust and do our best.”

  Peter stared at her. What would Amy say? He already felt like their relationship wasn’t as solid as he hoped. What was this news going to do to it? He wanted to groan out loud. He never should have proposed to her. He hadn’t been ready—and that was before he knew all of this. His situation was getting worse and worse by the day. He had nothing to offer a wife—nothing to offer Amy.