Treasuring Emma (4 page)

Clara clenched her fist. “You should have said something to me first.”

“But we already talked about this. You said more than once the past few months that you were worried how Emma and Leona were going to take care of the
haus
. If they stay with us, they don’t have to.”

Clara hesitated. She needed to choose her words carefully. Peter hadn’t consulted with her, but she hadn’t made her thoughts known either. “Maybe we could move in with them.” Clara turned and looked out the buggy window at the shadowy outlines of Amish houses.

“Why would we do that?”

“It’s more practical. Their
haus
is larger than our cramped one.”

“I thought you loved our house.” He shifted in the seat but kept his gaze straight ahead. “At least that’s what you said when I built it.”

Five years and three children ago
. “We need to be realistic, Peter. Our
haus
is full. We don’t have room for anyone else.”

“It wouldn’t take long to add a room in the back.”

“How would we do that? We don’t have any extra money for building supplies. Do you expect
mei grossmudder
to pay for the addition?”

“Of course not.”

“Then how can you build it?”

“Why are you always worried about money?” His tone turned sharp.

“Someone has to.”

“Worrying about it doesn’t help.”

Clara knew what he would say next.
God will provide
. The same thing Emma said. But Peter was out of work, and she had yet to see any sign of God’s generosity. “What about
mei grossvadder’s haus
? Is it supposed to stand empty until it falls down from rot?”

He shifted again. “I hadn’t thought that far.”

Clara didn’t respond. She didn’t have the strength to argue with her husband tonight. He turned into the driveway and pulled the buggy up to the front of the house. She climbed out and left him to put the buggy in the barn and settle the horse down for the night.

Before she reached the kitchen, Clara knew that Julia had been baking again. There was no mistaking the sweet, fruity scent of fresh cherry pie. She entered the kitchen to see her neighbor standing in front of the sink.

Julia shut off the tap and turned around. “Your
kinner
were perfect tonight.” She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and laid it on the counter. “The
buwe
even helped me bake. I won’t tell Peter, though.”

Clara didn’t care whether Peter knew. She was more concerned with Julia using the pie filling she’d canned a few weeks ago. She had been saving the ingredients to make cherry strudel to take to church. Now she would have to come up with something else. Julia might have meant well, but it wasn’t in Clara’s budget to buy more dessert ingredients.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Julia said, gesturing to the pie on the counter. “We made two of them. The
kinner
and I ate the other one.”

Clara looked at Julia’s rotund figure. She could guess who had eaten the majority of the first pie. But at least she had something to take to church. She managed a brief smile. “I appreciate you watching the
kinner
while we were gone.”

“Anytime you need me to watch them for you, I’m glad to do it. My own are grown, so I have time on my hands. At least until they start giving me grandchildren.” She laughed, her wide face breaking into a thick-lipped grin. “Hopefully that will be soon.”

Peter entered the room, scratching his beard. He said hello to Julia and inhaled deeply. His eyes danced with anticipation. “Smells like your famous cherry pie in here.”

“Peter, you’re too nice.” Julia’s chubby cheeks blushed. She looked to Clara again. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you, but I’m sorry about your
mudder
. She was a sweet
fraa
.”

Clara moved away from Julia. She wiped a spot of flour off the table with her fingers. “
Ya
, she was.”

“You two must be tired.” Julia reached for the bonnet hanging on a peg beside the back door. “The
kinner
are asleep upstairs.”

“We should do the same.” Peter walked over to the counter. “As soon as I have a piece of your
appeditlich
pie.”

Clara cleared her throat. “Don’t you think you’ve eaten enough today?”

Peter shot a glance at her, his expression stern. But she saw the questions in his eyes as well.

Julia grabbed her shawl and threw it over her shoulders. “Well, then. I’ll be on my way.” She dashed out the door.

Clara removed her bonnet and placed it on an empty peg. Peter didn’t say anything, merely hung his black hat next to hers. He left the room, ignoring the pie.

Clara unpinned her shawl and placed it next to her bonnet. She spent the next few minutes wrapping the pie in foil, crimping the edges to make a tight seal. She hid the pie in the back of the pantry. Maybe Peter wouldn’t think to look there.

When she came into the bedroom, she saw Peter’s sleeping form huddled under the quilt. She let out a small sigh of relief. With silent movements she undressed, left her
kapp
on the dresser, and slipped into her nightgown. She sat down on her side of the bed. The springs let out a soft creak. When Peter moved, she froze.

“I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t embarrass me like that again.”

“I’m sorry.” She kept her back to him.

“We need to talk.”

“I thought you were tired.”

“How can I sleep when you’re upset?” He sat up and moved behind her.

“I’m not upset. It’s been a long day.” The image of her mother’s burial made tears burn in her eyes. She refused to let them fall. If Peter saw her crying, he would never leave her alone.

He touched her shoulder. It took everything she had not to shrug off his hand. “If you don’t want your
schwester
and
grossmammi
to move in, then they don’t have to. Emma didn’t seem thrilled with the idea when I brought it up.”

Clara had noticed. If Peter had bothered to tell her his plan, she could have told him it wouldn’t work. Emma didn’t want to live with Clara any more than Clara wanted her here.

“So they should stay in their own
haus
.” Peter scooted closer to her, his breath low in her ear. “We should still think about adding a room here, though. Or two.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “In case God blesses us with more
kinner
.”

Clara closed her eyes. She felt trapped enough with three. But Peter never stopped talking about having a large family. He never stopped trying to make it happen, even when Clara didn’t want to. But she couldn’t bring herself to give in to him. Not tonight.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. She cringed. To her surprise he pulled away. “
Gut nacht
, Clara.”

Relieved, she slipped beneath the covers but still couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

“I love you, Clara.”

She forced the words out. “I love you too.” But even to her own ears, they sounded false and hollow.

After Norman left, Emma sat outside for a few moments longer. She shivered in the evening chill. When she couldn’t stand the cold any longer, she went inside. But not before glancing at Adam’s house. Did he know
Mammi
had died? If he did, would he even care? She had no idea. Her childhood friend, the man she grew up with and fell in love with, was a stranger to her.

She climbed the stairs to the bedroom, careful not to disturb her grandmother in the room down the hall. Emma sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the bobby pins out of her hair. A few strands of hair came with them. She undid her bun but didn’t bother to brush out the tangled mass.

For a while she tossed restlessly. She pulled the covers up to her chin. Kicked them off again. Punched at the pillow. Willed sleep to come.

Maybe a glass of milk would help her sleep. Or maybe she’d forget about sleep altogether. As she approached the kitchen, a faint light glowed from the doorway. She entered the room and saw her grandmother seated at the table. A candle flickered a few inches away. The old woman turned, her thin lips forming a half smile.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

Emma shook her head. Instead of going to the ice chest for milk, she sat down. “I thought you were already in bed.”

“I was. Fell asleep, even.” She sighed, placing one gnarled hand on the table. “But the Lord woke me up. Said I needed to pray. So that’s what I’m doing.”

“In the kitchen?”

“Well, I was a little hungry too.”

Emma noticed the empty saucer to her grandmother’s left. A fork rested on the small dish, which still held crumbs from whatever dessert
Grossmammi
had eaten. One thing they had plenty of right now was food. Family and friends from church had brought over enough casseroles, pickles, salads, breads, and desserts to keep them fed for the next week. She placed her hands on the table, tried to suppress a sigh.

Her grandmother reached for her hand. “You’re troubled,
ya
? Maybe you should do some praying too.”

Emma pressed her lips together but didn’t say anything. How could she admit to her
grossmammi
that she hadn’t prayed in days?

“Take comfort,
kinn
. Your
mammi
isn’t suffering anymore.”

“I am thankful for that.”

“And you did the best you could for her. She died here, just as she wanted. You made that possible.”

Her grandmother didn’t need to know the real reason her mother wanted to die at home. About the doctor and hospital bills. The cost of her medication. Expenses they didn’t have the money to cover.

“I know Clara would have helped out more, if she could. In the end I think your
mammi
made a wise choice. It wouldn’t have been
gut
for the
yung kinner
to see their
grossmammi
so sick.” The old woman released Emma’s hand. “At least she got to spend a little time with them before the cancer took hold. They’ll have
gut
memories of her.”

“They will.” Emma glanced down at the oak table her father had made the year after she was born. It had a few scratches but was still sturdy and beautiful. Her fingers caressed the smooth, glossy wood.

“Emma.”

After a pause, she looked at her grandmother.

“Is something else bothering you?”
Grossmammi’s
gray eyes blinked behind plain silver-rimmed glasses.

Emma didn’t know where to start, so she said nothing. She would keep her worries about money and her thoughts about Adam to herself. “
Nee
. I’m fine. Just worn out from today.”

Her grandmother pursed her lips together. Emma couldn’t blame
Grossmammi
for doubting her. She didn’t exactly sound convincing.

“All right then. I’m going back to bed.” Her grandmother pushed back from the table and picked up the wooden cane leaning against the edge. As she shuffled past Emma, she paused and put her hand on her shoulder. “Remember,
kinn
. Whatever is bothering you, take it to the Lord. He’ll bring you the comfort you need.”

Emma heard her grandmother’s slippers slide against the wood floor as she made her way up the stairs. How easy her grandmother made it sound. As if all Emma had to do was say a few prayers and everything would be all right again.

But she could pray for hours and her mother would still be dead. So would her father. And Adam would still be hundreds of miles away, if not thousands by now.

He had made his decision clear. She hadn’t heard a word from him since he left. And she didn’t care anymore.

Only that wasn’t true. She cared.

Far too much, she cared.

C
HAPTER
4

The next morning Emma was already dressed and outside before the sun rose. Her body ached with weariness. But chores didn’t disappear because she couldn’t sleep. There were animals to feed. Eggs to collect. Breakfast to make.

She held a kerosene lantern in one hand and a basket in the other. Her feet traveled the worn path through the grass to the barn. Tommy dashed in front of her, followed by Shelby. They both disappeared into the barn, awaiting their morning meal.

The scent of manure in the barn nearly overpowered her. Peter had cleaned it two weeks ago, but it was long past time to remove the manure again and replenish the straw. She didn’t want to ask him for help again. Or appeal to Norman. She’d do it herself.