The Widower (Amy's Story Book 3) Page 5

  “All right.” Amy bit the corner of her lip.

  “Mavis’s mamm took a turn for the worse,” he started, and Amy gasped.

  “Ach, nee. I’m so sorry.”

  Bart nodded. “Thank you. But Mavis is going to have to go back to Pennsylvania—”

  “And she’s taking Susie,” Amy blurted out, feeling sick to her stomach.

  “She wanted to, but Andrew wouldn’t hear of it.”

  Amy drew in a breath.

  “Anyway,” Bart continued, “Andrew is going to need help again.”

  “But Mavis doesn’t want—”

  “I know,” Bart cut in. “She doesn’t want you to tend Susie again. But it only makes sense. Susie knows you. She loves you, and you love her. If anyone should help Andrew, it’s you.”

  Amy stared at him. “Does Mavis know you’re here?” she finally asked.

  “She doesn’t. I reckon she won’t like it, neither. But I wanted you to know.”

  “So, Andrew is watching Susie and trying to run his farm at the same time?”

  “Today, he has been.”

  Amy’s heart pounded. Excitement and eagerness gripped her. Could she watch over Susie again? Was God allowing her back into Susie’s and Andrew’s lives? She forced herself to not to look as excited as she felt. “Thank you for telling me. Of course, I’ll watch Susie if my folks are in favor. I’ll be happy to.”

  “And you don’t have to tell Mavis I was here. I’ll tell her myself one day.”

  Amy smiled. “I won’t say anything.”

  “I need to get back. And Amy?”

  “Jah?”

  “Thank you for all you’ve done for Grace’s boppli. For…” his voice caught, “…everything.”

  “You’re welcome, Bart. I was…” and now Amy had trouble getting her words out, too, “…happy to do it.”

  He put his hat back on and left the porch. Amy whirled and went back inside.

  “Mamm?” she called.

  “She’s out back in the garden I think,” Beulah told her. “And by the way, I overheard your conversation.”

  Amy stopped. “You were eavesdropping? Again?”

  Beulah shrugged. “You could call it that.” She stepped forward and grabbed Amy’s arm. “I’m right happy for you, Amy. This is what you want.”

  Amy’s eyes misted over. Beulah was right. This was everything she wanted. Everything.

  “Go find Mamm. I’ll finish scrubbing the bathroom upstairs.” Beulah squeezed Amy’s arm and then half-pushed her toward the wash room.

  “Thanks, Beulah,” Amy said and hurried through the wash room and out the side door. She circled behind the house where their expansive garden was. She spotted Fiona immediately.

  “Mamm?”

  Fiona straightened up and turned toward her, shading her eyes from the glare of the sun. “Jah? What is it?”

  Amy stepped her way through the rows of vegetables. “Mavis’s mamm is doing poorly in Pennsylvania.”

  “I’m right sorry to hear that.”

  “Andrew needs someone to watch Susie while Mavis is gone, and Bart thought it should be me.”

  “Bart?”

  “Jah. He stopped by.”

  “He stopped by and didn’t even say hello? Did he see your dat?”

  “Nee. He was in a bit of a hurry.”

  Fiona frowned and tossed the handful of carrots she’d just pulled into the waiting basket. “I see.”

  “It’s all right, ain’t so?” Amy asked, and a sudden fear that her mother wouldn’t agree clenched her heart.

  “You’ll need to check with your dat. Would this mean spending the night? I’m not of a mind to lose both you and Beulah again.”

  “I could just go over and help during the day. Beulah wouldn’t have to come.”

  Fiona studied Amy. Her brow lifted. “And you want to do this?”

  Amy let out the breath she was holding. “Jah, Mamm. I’ve been missing Susie something fierce.”

  Fiona scowled. “And it’s just Susie you’re missing.”

  Amy blanched. “Mamm. Susie is Grace’s boppli. I want to care for her.”

  “I know how much you loved Grace, Amy. What will Peter think of this?”

  “He’ll be fine with it. He knows I love that boppli.” Even as Amy spoke the words, she wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth or not. She had a bad feeling that Peter wouldn’t be happy about it, but she wasn’t about to tell her mother that.

  “Talk to your dat.”

  “Thank you, Mamm.” Amy hurried from the garden and headed out to the fields. Her dad was in the far northern corner, so she started running. Then she stopped herself. What would her father think if he saw her running out to meet him? He’d think something tragic had happened. She slowed her pace and it took her way too long to get out to him.

  “Why Amy, what are you doing out here?” he asked when she drew near.

  Amy repeated the situation.

  “Bart asked you? It wasn’t Andrew who came?”

  “Right.”

  “Then for all you know, Andrew’s already solved the problem.”

  Amy’s heart fell. She hadn’t even considered that. “Maybe…”

  “If it’s all right with your mamm, it’s fine with me. That Andrew has had a time of it, ain’t so? In fact, I’m glad to have you go help him again.”

  “Thank you, Dat. Thank you. Can I take the pony cart and go right now?”

  “The day is almost done, daughter.”

  “I know, but this way, he’ll know I’m coming first thing in the morning.”

  “Go on, then.”

  “Thanks!” Amy started back across the field.

  “Daughter?”

  She stopped and turned back to her father. “Jah?”

  “Peter going to be all right with this?”

  “Of course.”

  “You’re probably right. In any case, he won’t be around much longer before he heads north, will he?”

  “Nee. Not much longer.” Amy turned and hurried through the rows, feeling the tall stalks of corn pulling at her clothes. She headed to the edge of the field where the walking was easier.

  Peter was to go the next day. She’d see him tonight, or at least she hoped so. She’d wait for him as soon as supper was over. But right now, she needed to hitch up the pony cart and get going. She flew to the barn and hitched Trotter in record time.

  She gave Trotter his head and made excellent time getting to Andrew’s. The minute she pulled onto his property, she felt better. Relaxed. Like she’d just come home—which was both odd and disturbing. She shoved her feelings aside and stopped in front of the porch. Andrew was there immediately, pushing through the screen with one hand, holding Susie against his shoulder with the other.

  “Amy!”

  She jumped from the cart and went to the steps. Suddenly, she was nervous, her relaxed state completely deserting her. She was trembling, her stomach turning flips inside her. She stared at Andrew. Was that pleasure she read in his eyes? Relief? Yes, that was what it was. Relief. Because he knew she was there for Susie.

  “You’re here,” he said, as if not quite believing it.

  “I’m here.”

  Susie started to cry, and Andrew shifted her position on his shoulder. He looked into his daughter’s face and smiled. Then he held her out toward Amy. Amy rushed forward, grasping the child in her arms and pressing her to her chest.

  “Susie,” she said, her voice breathless. She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the baby. Tears squeezed through her closed lids and coursed down her cheeks. Susie made soft gulping sounds against Amy’s chest.

  Andrew watched them, tears in his eyes now. “How did you know?” he uttered, his voice thick with emotion.

  Amy opened her eyes. “Bart came to see me.”

  “Bart?”

  She nodded.

  “I-I can’t believe it.”

  Amy smiled at him. “I couldn’t either.”

  “Does
Mavis know?”

  Amy shook her head. “Nee. Not yet.”

  Andrew raised his chin. “I see.”

  “It’s all right, isn’t it? It’s all right that I came?”

  Andrew’s breath gushed out. “All right?” he said, his voice rising. “It’s more than all right, Amy. It’s what I prayed for.”

  Their gazes locked, and Amy’s heart lurched. She swallowed hard, feeling as if she were being pulled into a whirling tunnel. She needed to break eye contact, but she couldn’t do it. Andrew’s gaze grew even more intense, and if Susie hadn’t sneezed at that moment, Amy didn’t know what might have happened.

  But Susie did sneeze, and Amy gave a start, laughing weakly.

  Andrew coughed and shuffled his feet, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “I-I was going to come ask you myself,” he finally said.

  “Were you?”

  “Of course, I was,” he said. “I want you to watch Susie. If truth be told, only you.” His cheeks grew red, and he went on quickly. “If you can come over every day while I’m working, that would be perfect. I will pay you of course—”

  “I’ll do it without pay,” she interrupted, but he held up his hand.

  “I know you would. But if you won’t take payment, then it can’t happen.”

  “But—”

  “Nee. Amy, it’s necessary. I’m hiring you. It will… Well, it’ll look better.”

  What was he saying? And then she knew. Of course, she knew. How would the district look on this if she weren’t formerly hired? What would they think of a single woman spending every day at Andrew’s place out of the goodness of her heart? He was right. She needed to be taking this on as a job.

  “All right, Andrew. You can pay me.”

  “Your folks all right with this?”

  “They are.”

  “And Peter…”

  Amy sucked in her breath. She didn’t want to talk with Andrew about Peter. “Um, it’s fine.”

  “You’ve talked to him?”

  “Nee,” she admitted. “I’ll ask him tonight. He’s leaving, you know.”

  Andrew stared at her. “Leaving? What do you mean?”

  “Going north to work in the factories for a while.”

  “But why?”

  “Money.” She drew in a long breath. She shouldn’t be discussing this with Andrew. It wasn’t right.

  “So, uh, so, you’ll be marrying him soon and joining him up north?” Andrew’s face was expressionless now. Completely closed off.

  Amy patted Susie’s back. “Nee. Not this year.”

  Andrew let out his breath. “I see.” He ran his hand over his chin. “What time can you be here in the morning?” He was back to business.

  “I’ll be here by five-thirty. I’ll make your breakfast, so don’t worry about that.”

  “You don’t need to, Amy. I’m hiring you to watch the boppli.”

  “I’ll make breakfast,” she repeated. She snuggled Susie’s neck, breathing her in, kissing her softness. “Tomorrow,” she whispered to her. “Tomorrow, I’ll be back.”

  Reluctantly, she handed Susie back to Andrew. Then she gave him a quick smile and went down the porch steps. She got into her cart, and with shaking hands, she drove back out to the road.

  She couldn’t help but smile all the way back home. She’d gotten her wish—her deepest desire. She would be spending the entire next day with Susie at Andrew’s house. And the day after that, and the day after that. She was grinning as she unhitched Trotter and set him out to graze.

  She would make Andrew pancakes tomorrow morning. He loved pancakes, and she knew for sure and for certain that he never made them for himself. And there was still some of that pure maple syrup left on the shelf; she was sure of it. Unless, of course, Mavis had used it. And she should fry up some bacon. Or maybe sausage. Andrew liked both, so maybe she’d fry up both.

  She suppressed a giggle. Thank you, Gott. Thank you so so much.

  Chapter Ten

  Amy twisted her hair into a fresh bun at the nape of her neck. Then she opened her drawer and took out a different kapp. This one was crisper and looked newer. She secured it snugly with bobby pins and picked up the small hand mirror from the top of the dresser. She smiled into it, feeling a bit foolish.

  But she looked fine. Her eyes still held a sparkle which she knew was the result of her new job. She bit her bottom lip. What would Peter think of it? She’d be giving her wages to her father, but perhaps, he’d let her keep a portion for herself. She might be able to save some money for her life with Peter.

  After all, she had more than a year to save now.

  Of course, she wouldn’t be caring for Susie all that time. She couldn’t delude herself about that. Mavis would return—as soon as possible, no doubt. Amy found herself in the awkward position of once again hoping that someone remained needy or ill or took a long time in dying.

  She pressed her hand to her chest. She was a horrible person. A very horrible person. I’m sorry, Gott. Please be with Mavis’s mamm. Bless her and take care of her…

  Did a hasty prayer make up for what a person really wished in their heart? Because it was true. Amy did hope that Mavis’s mother would need her for a long time, and if she was dying, that it would be very slow.

  Amy’s cheeks burned with shame. She squared her shoulders and said another deliberate prayer for Mavis’s mother. And then she hurried out of her room and down the stairs. Peter would be showing up. In fact, he was probably already out on the road waiting for her.

  “I’ll be back later,” she called out, not knowing where everyone was.

  “We’ll see you later then,” her mother called back from the front room.

  Amy slipped out the side door and hustled across the yard. She could see the Raber buggy at the end of the drive. She got there quickly and opened the door.

  “Hello, Peter.”

  Peter grinned. “Hi, Amy.”

  She shut the door. “Where are we driving tonight?”

  “Anywhere is fine with me.” He gazed at her. “You know that I’m leaving in the morning.”

  She swallowed. “Jah. I know.”

  “I don’t want to go.” He looked so upset that she clasped his arm.

  “It’s going to be all right.” As soon as the words left her lips, she realized it was a lie. It wasn’t going to be all right. Her throat went dry with the realization. She wasn’t sure why it wouldn’t be all right, she just knew. But how could she tell Peter that?

  Perhaps, she was just in a weird mood. Why wouldn’t everything be fine? Peter would go north, make some money for his family, and return. Then things would go right back to normal. But what was normal?

  Things hadn’t been normal since Grace died. Nothing was as it should be.

  “Amy?”

  She focused back on Peter. “Jah?”

  “Are you all right? You look funny.”

  “Funny?”

  “Your face went almost white. Are you ill?”

  She forced a laugh. “Nee. I’m fine. I just will miss you, Peter.”

  “Me, too.” He snapped the reins, and they started down the road. “I thought we’d just drive around. Not go anywhere in particular. Is that okay?”

  “Jah.”

  She swallowed. She had to tell him about her job. She had to. She tried to decide whether it’d be better to tell him right away that evening or wait until toward the end of their time together. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was focused on the road, his shoulders slightly slumped. Her heart went out to him; he really did dread leaving.

  “I got a job,” she blurted before she could talk herself out of it.

  “A job? Where?” He looked at her then, clearly curious.

  “Um. Mavis has to go back to Pennsylvania…”

  She watched as realization dawned. His expression went from curiosity to alarm. She hurried on.

  “Bart came to me and asked me—”

  “Wait,” he interrupted. “Bart
came to you?”

  “Jah. He knew Susie would need me to care for her again, and—”

  “So it wasn’t Andrew who asked you?” He was staring at her now.

  “Well, nee, not at first—”

  “But he does want you.” Peter’s stare intensified. “Andrew does want you to watch the boppli.”

  “Well, jah, he does, but it was Bart—”

  “You’re going to fetch Susie ever day then? Take her to your house and watch her?”

  Amy swallowed hard. “Um. Nee. I’ll go over there every day. It’s easier on Susie if I do that. She’s had so much change and disruption and if I take her to my house, it’s just another adjustment for her.” Amy was talking a mile a minute now. But she had no call to defend herself, did she? This was a job.

  Peter said nothing, just studied her face.

  “And I’ll be making money,” she added. “I’m going to ask dat if I can keep some of it to save for us. You know, for after we get married.”

  “That should be my job, not yours.”

  “But I’m going to get paid, so it’s a gut opportunity…” Her voice faded as she looked at the censure on his face. Was he going to forbid her to take this job? Because if he was…

  What? she asked herself. What if he does forbid me? What will I do?

  “And you can’t take the boppli to your house.”

  “I don’t mind going over there every day, Peter. I don’t.”

  “I’m quite sure of that,” he said, his voice leaden.

  She flinched as if slapped. Her eyes widened. “And what is that supposed to mean exactly?”

  He sighed. “It means exactly what I said. I’m sure you won’t mind at all going over there.”

  “It makes sense, Peter. Surely, you can see that.”

  “I’m seeing a lot of things, Amy.”

  “What do you mean?” Her chest tightened.

  Peter pulled up on the reins, and the buggy slowed way down. He turned to face her. “I mean that you seem mighty eager to spend your days at Andrew’s house.”

  “Because Susie is there,” she said, her voice tight. “She needs me. It’s a job, Peter.”

  “You’re telling me it’s only a job to you? That if you got an offer for a better job somewhere else, you’d take it?”

  Amy glared at him.

  “Well? Would you?”