Amanda Weds a Good Man (21 page)

A
s Abby returned to the dessert table with her nearly empty tray, a gust of wind whipped at her skirts. The ladies sitting near the gift table hopped up to catch the wrapping paper from Eunice's gifts.

“Looks like a rain'll be blowing in soon,” Emma said as she stuffed a handful of paper and ribbons into one of her mother's boxes. “Let's get your presents into the house, Mamm.”

“Jah, and I'll be going with them,” Eunice replied. “No need to get wet and then catch my death of cold.”

“I'm with you there, Eunice,” Jemima Lambright said as she struggled up out of her lawn chair. “But in my case, I don't want to melt, you know. That's what happens when hard candy gets wet.”

As the women around her chortled at Jemima's old joke, Abby stacked the trays. Eunice fussed over the least little thing, healthwise, and she'd soon be hounding Merle to come inside, too—but then, maybe the two of them had reached their eighth decade by taking care of themselves and watching out for each other. It was a blessing that they were still enjoying birthday parties and life's simple pleasures, even if they bickered a bit.

Amanda tucked wrapping paper between the pottery pieces so they wouldn't chip, while the other women started into the house with the remaining desserts and Eunice's other gifts. Once inside, Barbara ran dishwater while Amanda and Abby took up towels. While the others put the leftover food into containers, the three of them chatted at the sink.

“So what's this I've heard about Uriah breaking your pottery in your basement?” Barbara asked Amanda. “Do you think he's made his point now?”

“That had to scare the little ones half to death, if you weren't there when he did that,” Abby remarked. All afternoon she'd noticed the weariness etched on Amanda's face. She sensed that Uriah and Mildred Schmucker had upset the entire Brubaker family—and if Amanda had felt compelled to run off, the situation was indeed serious.

“I don't see Uriah as a man who will let up on me or my girls—or Wyman,” Amanda replied with a sad sigh. “Trouble is, he's expecting me to be on my knees Sunday, and I . . . I just can't go. I've told Wyman I can't abide that bishop, and while he understands my misgivings, I've put him between a rock and a hard place.”

Barbara's eyebrows rose. She carefully rinsed a glass tray and handed it to Abby. “Jah, there's no ducking a bishop's order to confess,” she murmured. “And no way to avoid him and his wife unless you move to another district.”

“That's not likely to happen, what with the grain elevator being there,” Amanda pointed out. “I've prayed on it and prayed on it. It's a tough thing to discuss with the kids around. What sort of example am I setting if I refuse to obey the bishop—and if I expect their dat to go along with it? Pete and Eddie are of an age where they'll think that if
I
can defy Wyman's and Uriah's orders, they can, too.”

As Abby listened, her heart went out to this new wife. More than Amanda's fear of retribution from the bishop she heard a longing . . . a need for private time and heart-to-heart talk between two bewildered adults who hadn't foreseen so many obstacles on their path to happiness.

“What if you and Wyman came to stay at my place for a couple of days?” As soon as the words popped out of her mouth, Abby knew this was the best idea she'd had in a long time. “While you're here in Cedar Creek, you could visit some more with Vernon, and— Why, James and I could go out to your place to help Jemima and Vera keep an eye on the kids! What do you think?”

Amanda's eyes widened. “Oh, I couldn't ask you to—”

“You didn't ask,” Abby pointed out. “I offered.”

“And what of the work James has lined up in his carriage shop?” Amanda protested. “Wyman and I couldn't expect him to—”

“I think that's a wonderful-gut idea,” Emma joined in as she, too, grabbed a towel. “James has an apprentice and other fellows to carry on when he's not there. It'll do him gut to get away—and maybe he'll finally propose to Abby! We've all been waiting for
that
!”

Abby's cheeks prickled with heat, yet she chuckled with the rest of the women. “If James agrees, and Wyman goes along with it, you can work out these matters before they get any more serious, Amanda. I'm concerned about you,” she added in a lower voice. “I don't like to see you and Wyman looking so unhappy.”

Amanda's eyes welled up. “Oh, Abby, what a friend you are, to make such an offer. I suppose it won't hurt to ask James and Wyman what they think.”

“Gut!” Abby replied. “Let's go out and talk to them right—”

The kitchen door flew open ahead of Jerome, who was urging Merle inside. “It's raining,” the younger man announced. “What with the wind whipping around, the other fellows are stabling the horses and putting away the chairs and tables. Gut thing we started Eunice's party earlier in the day.”

“My word, would you look at those nasty clouds,” Rosemary remarked. “We'd better gather up the children. My Katie's afraid of storms.”

“Simon gets as wound up as a toy monkey when the weather changes,” Amanda remarked as she followed Rosemary toward the door. “If we bring him inside, the girls will follow.”

Abby marveled at how Amanda was already so familiar with the ways of Wyman's children. A look out the window, to the expressions on their wee faces as they ran toward Amanda, gave Abby hope for the Brubaker brood. Alice Ann reached eagerly for her new mamm while Simon grabbed the twins' hands and the three of them skipped in a ring around Amanda's wind-whipped skirt. At Amanda's suggestion, the trio raced toward the porch—then challenged one another to see who could stomp the loudest on the wooden stairs.

“Whoa there, you wild horses!” Abby declared as she met them at the door. “We've got dishes in our hands here. Time to put your bridles on and behave in the house.”

Simon pantomimed slipping a bridle over Cora's and Dora's heads as they did the same to him, giggling. James's older sisters steered their youngsters inside, with Rosemary and her daughter close behind. Little Katie's huge eyes bespoke her fear of the impending storm as Rosemary went into the front room to cradle her in a rocking chair.

“The fellows are moving the buggies into the shed,” Barbara remarked. She and the other gals gazed out windows that were being splattered with fat raindrops, which pinged with a hint of hail.

More loud footfalls pounded on the porch stairs. The men shook the rain from their hats before stepping into the kitchen. Their dark shirts were soaked, and while Jerome and the Brubaker boys laughed with the exhilaration of racing inside ahead of the weather, the older men's faces showed concern.

“Thank the Lord none of us were on the road home,” Vernon said. “This is blowing into a lot more than the shower we were expecting.”

A loud rumble of thunder punctuated his statement, and with the darkening sky came a burst of wind and a lightning bolt that made everyone gasp.

“Ach, the wind just snapped the swing's chains,” Gail cried.

“Let's head for the basement,” Sam instructed above the startled chatter that filled the kitchen. “Take the lanterns and matches—and you men be sure your family members are accounted for. Can't have any kids playing hide-and-seek outside or thinking they should stay in the barn.”

Wyman, Matt, Sam, and Jerome immediately began finding faces in the crowd, as did James and his brothers-in-law. Barbara lit a lamp and paused at the top of the stairs. “What with nearly forty of us, we won't all fit in the root cellar,” she said. “Those with scared kids can sit in there, and those who don't like to be crowded into small spaces can gather in the back corner where there aren't any windows.”

Abby lit more lamps for the folks heading down the dark stairs, pleased to see that everyone was proceeding without undue panic.
Thank you, Lord, for Your protection
, she prayed as another clap of thunder rattled the windows. Her faith, and the way this old home had withstood storms for more than four generations, kept her calm. As she handed the last of the lamps to Emma, who had her mamm's arm, Abby motioned to James.

“Sit by Wyman if you can,” she whispered. “Amanda and I have an idea for you.”

James chuckled as he escorted his dat to the basement door. “Why do I suspect you girls have been plotting?”

“Because we never stop,” Abby teased. Once the Graber men began their descent, she and Sam were the last two upstairs. “I'm going for some towels and afghans. No telling how long we might be downstairs.”

“I'll grab some cushions from the couches,” her brother said. “Those older folks shouldn't be sitting on a concrete floor.”

Moving quickly through the shadowy house, Abby soon had an armload of towels, afghans, and the shawls from the door pegs. While Barbara held the lamp high to illuminate the stairway, she and Sam descended to where their guests sat huddled in the two safest areas. Even though the afternoon had been unseasonably warm, the basement felt damp and cool—especially in the darkness of the storm. The men dried themselves as best they could and when everyone was settled on the cushions and with the coverings, Abby headed for the spot James had saved for her.

How sweet to see those three little girls cuddled in Wyman's lap while Simon has chosen Amanda's
, she thought as she smiled at them. Abby deftly lowered herself to the floor, scooting as close to James as she dared. At last she got to spend some time with him, after a busy day of helping with his mamm's birthday party. If disaster did strike, it was a fine thing that all the people she held dearest were gathered here in Sam's basement, weathering the storm together.

“Shall we douse the lamps and pray? It might be best to save Sam's wicks for tonight, after this weather passes.” Vernon's serene voice filled the basement, and as the flames flickered out everyone took a collective breath.

•   •   •

“S
o what have you been cooking up, missy?” James asked. With his parents, Jerome, and most of the Brubakers in this corner of the basement, they were all sitting close enough that pressing his arm against Abby's seemed acceptable. He noticed that Emma had chosen
not
to sit with Jerome, yet the young man seemed content chatting with their parents, making sure that they and Jemima were comfortable on their couch cushions.

Abby's eyes glimmered in the darkness. “I invited Wyman and Amanda to stay at my house this weekend while you and I go to their place to help with the kids. Would that be—”

“You've done too much for us,” Wyman protested. “I couldn't impose—”

“But it's our best chance to decide how we'll handle the situation with Uriah,” Amanda insisted quietly. “Just the two of us, Wyman. No interruptions. No little mouths repeating what little ears have heard.”

“I can keep a secret, Mamma,” one of the twins piped up.

“Jah, me, too,” her sister said.

“I don't wanna talk about that mean old bishop anyway,” Simon declared.

The adults chuckled at this example of how Wyman and his wife had so little opportunity to speak privately. James's pulse rate picked up. Wouldn't a day or two with the Brubaker kids be a perfect way to find out if he and Abby were suited to having a large family? “I'd be happy to help at your place,” he replied. “Especially since Uriah's expecting Amanda to confess at church this Sunday.”

Wyman's brow furrowed in thought. “Vernon and I just chatted about how, if the kids' feet are to be planted firmly on the ground, they need some weight put on their shoulders,” he said quietly. “Maybe he'd meet with us about that, Amanda, if we'd spend some time here in Cedar Creek.”

The wind whistled fiercely, and then a
ka-boom!
of thunder made everyone jump and start chattering. Lightning flashed, striking a tree near the window, and when a large section of the treetop fell to the ground, the house vibrated. James squeezed Abby, pleased to see that she wasn't afraid of the storm.

“I agreed with Vernon that I've let the parenting slip since Viola passed,” Wyman continued when the wind had died down. “It's time to get my family back on track, to make your job as their mamm easier, Amanda. More fairly balanced.”

Amanda's expression touched James deeply. Here was a woman devoted to her family—no slouch at keeping her three girls dressed and fed without a husband's help—and now
hope
flickered on her face, visible even in the shifting shadows of the basement. “I would go along with whatever Vernon suggested,” she agreed. “Not just because he likes my pottery, but because he listens as compassionately as he speaks.”

“That settles it, then,” Abby said as she looked around their little circle. “All of us here want you Brubakers to be happy, and we'll do whatever we can to make that happen.”

James reached for her hand and squeezed it, proud of the way Abby had once again given of herself to make another family's life easier.

“Will you bring fried pies, Abby? Cherry ones?” Simon asked. “That would make
me
happy!”

James laughed, even as Amanda gently reminded her son to be more polite. James recalled having a mischievous streak much like Simon's at five, being the only boy among three sisters as he was growing up.

“I could probably pack along some treats for a young fellow who'll do as I ask him,” Abby replied as she tugged playfully on Simon's pant leg.

Another
whoosh
of wind made everyone gaze toward the windows on the far side of the basement. In a flash of lightning, they could see large trees waving crazily as loose leaves circled in whirlwinds. From in front of the house, beyond where they could see, came another ominous
crash
that reverberated for several moments. This storm was one such as Cedar Creek hadn't seen in a long while, yet James found his attention drawn to Abby's serene smile. Already, she was figuring out special things to do for the Brubaker kids, and he looked forward to joining her at their farm. It occurred to him how much richer his life had become these past months—how many surprises he'd enjoyed because this wonderful woman spent her time with him.