Amanda Weds a Good Man (26 page)

“It so happens Abby sent along a little something yesterday—besides our new clothes and underthings,” she said as she set the plate in front of Simon.

The five-year-old looked ready to pop, he was so excited. “Fried pies!” he crowed. “Ask and you shall receive! Knock, and Abby will answer.”

As the kitchen filled with laughter, Wyman gave thanks for the love this family shared even as they experienced some growing pains. Special moments like this one were what he'd envisioned when he'd courted Amanda. Watching these kids help one another during yesterday's move and socialize at church today had made him believe that they could indeed be one big, happy family if they kept working at it. God didn't make mistakes, after all. He had brought the Brubakers and the Lambrights together for a good reason. . . .

And now that you've told the kids how you expect their behavior to change, how will YOU contribute to this remodeling project? If you're all words and no action, it's only hot air. You must follow through. You must do better.

A
manda shook a damp plum-colored dress until it snapped, and then hung it on the clothesline. Beside her, Vera did the same with a dress of deep green. They bent toward the laundry basket and then pegged the clothes in a rhythm they had acquired during many washings—for nearly every day was laundry day in a household of twelve.

“You looked so pretty at church in your new green dress,” Amanda said. “Abby does such a gut job of sewing, and she chose a fabric that's easy to care for, too.”

“I enjoyed having something new to wear,” Vera answered. “I tend to let the sewing slide, as I'd rather tend the kids or cook.”

“Those are important jobs, too,” Amanda reaffirmed. “And I'm grateful for the way you've spent time with Cora and Dora in the kitchen. When Jemima's not feeling gut, she gets impatient and shoos them away.”

Vera cranked the pulley to send the hanging clothes toward the barn and bring open clothesline in front of them. Amanda took in the blue sky and the long line of dresses, pants, and shirts flapping in the early November breeze. She worded her next thought carefully, hoping not to upset her new daughter. “It didn't occur to me yesterday, but you probably missed seeing your friends at the Singing in Clearwater,” she said. “You'd be welcome at this district's Singings, of course—but I could understand why you wouldn't want to go by yourself. It's a shame Eddie and Lizzie are too young to attend.”

Smiling, Vera shook out Lizzie's new maroon dress. “After all the work of moving on Saturday, I was ready for a day of rest,” she admitted. “Lizzie was introducing me to a lot of the young people at your church, though. Especially the fellows.”

Amanda chuckled. “Jah, I saw a few of them looking you over, too. And now that you're not constantly in charge of the little ones, I hope you'll do more things you enjoy with your friends.”

“All in gut time. I've had a lot of new situations to figure out this past month,” she replied. “And now that we've all shifted into your house, I understand why you were feeling . . . displaced after you married Dat. I'm sorry about the way I wanted the dishes and furniture just like Mamm kept them.”

Displaced?
Now, that was a word Amanda had never associated with Plain families. “Don't fret about that another minute, Vera,” Amanda insisted as she slipped her arm around the girl's shoulders. “Nobody likes to change their homes, especially after their mamm or a spouse dies. It would feel like we were throwing those folks themselves away if we got rid of all their belongings. This house still looks pretty much as it did even before I married Atlee.”

Vera nodded, listening. She wasn't one to let on, so Amanda wondered how Wyman's eldest was handling the destruction of her home. “I'm sorry those trees crashed into your house and destroyed your bedroom and the kitchen,” she murmured. “That's a lot to lose—more adjusting than I faced when I married your dat, because it was my choice to leave this place.”

When they had hung all the laundry in the basket, the two of them went back into the house. Amanda enjoyed having only the girls here today, as Wyman, Jerome, and Eddie had taken Simon to work at the Brubaker place. After sampling some fresh snickerdoodles, which the twins were baking with Jemima, Amanda and Vera carried buckets of hot, soapy water into the room where the potter's wheel and ceramic supplies had once been.

“I'm afraid we're behind on more than the fall cleaning at this place,” Amanda remarked as she gazed at the blank walls. “With the furniture gone, you can see how badly the paint has faded. This must seem like a very run-down old house compared to what you're used to, Vera. But after Atlee passed, I had to be very careful with my money.”

As Vera knelt with her scrub brush, a grin flickered at her lips. “Maybe you should set Eddie loose with a roller,” she said. “Dat made him paint all our bedrooms when he smarted off about how I wasn't keeping up with the cleaning—how dingy the house was looking—after Mamm passed, and we found out how really gut he is with paint. Eddie won't say so, but he got a kick out of doing it, too. Decided to keep painting until he'd done the whole house.”

“Now there's a thought. Eddie seems tired of cleaning up at the other house, so we could put him to work here!” Although Amanda was laughing, she was seriously interested in this idea. “If we get right on it, we'll probably have enough warm days left to open the windows in each room as he paints it. And who knows? That might be a career for him to consider.”

“It would get Dat off his case, too,” Vera said with a laugh.

As the day passed while she was doing more laundry and the deep cleaning, Amanda became more determined to spruce up these neglected rooms. Yet it seemed like a bad time to bring up the subject of painting this house when Wyman's place needed so much more time and money spent on it—especially if they were to get the main structure and the roof repaired so the house was enclosed before winter. And because it took more than an hour in each direction for the drive, Wyman was putting in some long days.

At supper, Amanda could see how tired her husband looked, and how preoccupied. She set aside her big ideas about painting this place . . . after all, they wouldn't be living here for long. Jerome didn't seem to mind that the walls weren't fresh—especially now that all the furnishings were back in their original spots.

After their evening meal was cleaned up, Wyman called them together for the evening's devotions. Amanda enjoyed hearing her husband read God's word aloud in this cozy front room by the lamplight, just as Atlee had done years ago.

“Each day as we've worked lately, I've been thinking about what the Lord had in mind when he sent the storm that destroyed our home,” he said as he flipped through the big Bible's pages. “And these words from the prophet Isaiah keep coming back to me. ‘Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old,'” he read. “‘Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.'”

Wyman gazed at them all, his face alight with emotions Amanda wasn't sure how to interpret. “I believe God is telling us to move ahead with our lives, even as He leads us in directions we hadn't anticipated before the storm,” he said earnestly. “So let's bow for a word with Him, asking for His blessing and insights as to how each of us is to follow His plan in the coming days.”

As Amanda closed her eyes, her thoughts felt anything but prayerful.
What on Earth is Wyman thinking to do? Will he just keep hinting about his new ideas, or will he reveal his thoughts to us? I'm not so sure I can handle yet another move in another direction . . . another new thing
.

The kids looked curious, too, but as they headed to their rooms they murmured among themselves rather than asking their dat to explain his remarks. Amanda tucked the twins and Alice Ann into their beds. Simon was so tired from the day's work that he didn't demand a story before his head hit the pillow. After she wished the four older kids good night, she started downstairs to assist Jemima, and met Jerome going to his room.

“And what do you know about Wyman's mysterious frame of mind?” she asked. “You look like the cat that ate the canary.”

“Me?” her nephew teased. “What would
I
know about anything?”

“Puh! You've been working with him these past few days—”

“And I respect a man's right to keep his own counsel until he's gut and ready to say what's on his mind, too.” Jerome squeezed her shoulder. “Patience is a virtue, Aunt.”

“Jah, you're a fine one to talk of patience. Gut night, you,” she murmured as she swatted his backside.

“Denki for those hot dinners you've been sending with us,” he added. “The food stays plenty warm, the way you pack the pans into the cooler with towels. I've never thought of doing that.”

“You're welcome, dear.” Jerome's compliment was his way of ducking the subject of Wyman's plans, but she appreciated it anyway. Amanda suspected her nephew had enjoyed living without two women bossing him, yet he seemed genuinely pleased to have the Brubaker bunch with him for a while.

As Amanda emerged from Jemima's dawdi haus apartment, the silence of the main house enfolded her. Only the ticking of the mantel clock and the whistle of the wind filled the shadowy front room. She noticed the lamp was still lit in the kitchen, and found Wyman there at the table, stirring two mugs of cocoa.

“Tired as you looked at dinner, I thought you'd be turning in early,” Amanda remarked as she sat down beside him. “But it's gut to spend some quiet time with you after our busy day.”

Wyman gazed at her over the rim of his mug. “What would I do without you, sweet wife?” he murmured. “You take such gut care of me, I've forgotten all about the emptiness that followed Viola's death . . . the way I worked like a man possessed to forget my loneliness. We have a lot to talk about, Amanda.”

Her heart stood still. Was he going to discuss the Lord's new direction, or was something else bothering him? “All right. I'm listening,” she whispered.

“Ah, but I need your opinion.” His words came out in a rush as he grasped her hand. “These past few days, my mind has been whirling like those winds that plucked up our trees and dropped them on the house. I want to run some ideas past you before I mention them to another soul. And I might just burst if I don't talk about them
right now
.”

Amanda's eyes widened. Wyman was getting very excited, yet he appeared apprehensive—
driven
to make her understand. He had saved his ideas to share with her first, and she felt honored. “And this is about the new thing the Lord has been prodding you with?”

“Jah, I— What would you think if I sold my house and my land? To the Fishers!”

Amanda's mug thunked against the tabletop and her cocoa sloshed out. “Wyman, what are you— Why would you do such a thing?” she asked in a hushed voice. Her heart was beating like a frightened rabbit's, yet her man's enthusiasm was contagious.

“Hear me out,” he insisted. “Tell me if my logic's cockeyed, or if you think I'm barking up the wrong tree altogether. I believe God's telling me to move on—and to move
here
for a fresh start.
Think
about it,” he urged her.

Amanda stared at him in the flickering lamplight. His handsome face was alight with energy and he looked anything but weary now. “I'm listening,” she repeated. “I'm amazed and—and I'm shaking, too, but I want to know how you came to this decision. You're not a man who jumps to half-baked conclusions.”

He exhaled loudly, composing his thoughts. “I suppose this idea took root when Trevor asked about renting the pasture for his dairy herd,” he explained. “He and Ray went to the auction today to buy those other cows, and— Well, Trev's so excited about getting established—”

“Sally says he's taking his instruction to join their church. Which means he's got a girl in mind to marry, most likely.”

“—and I couldn't help thinking that if the Fishers bought my farm, they could all keep living along the same road, and—” Wyman paused to slow himself down. “I recall being that excited about life when I was Trevor's age, and I want to feel that way with
you
, Amanda. But the bishop's ruined it for me. Twice I've been stung by his sanctimonious commands, and I've had enough.”

Amanda's breath caught in her throat. “You'd sell out because of Uriah?”

“I'm selling out for
you
, my love.” His whispered words shimmered in the stillness of the kitchen. “Don't you see it? We'll never satisfy that man. And I can't believe, in my heart of hearts, that the Lord expects me to sacrifice my peace of mind—and my family's happiness—just to remain in Uriah's district.”

Wyman grasped her hands, entreating her with his bottomless brown eyes. “When I came home from your church service yesterday, it hit me like a ton of bricks. We have no reason to remain in Clearwater, being miserable, when we can live right here. Is that all right with you, Amanda?”

Her mouth dropped open but no sound came out. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, and her heart began dancing so fast she could barely breathe. “Of course it's all right, Wyman! But—but what about your elevator? We talked before about how your business would keep us in Clearwater—”

“When Jerome showed me around your farm, he pointed out that the same railroad tracks—the same trains—cross your property half an hour before they reach mine,” he explained. “If I sell my farm, I'll have more than enough money to build a new grain elevator. Bloomingdale's a gut place for one, too.”

Amanda stared at him, trying to harness the questions that raced through her mind. “But what about your partnership with Ray? I can't think he'll want to buy out your share of—”

“He won't have to. We can remain partners and expand our business!” Wyman gushed. “Instead of one facility, we'll have two. I can still work close to home, and he and Tyler can remain in Clearwater, so—”

“But how will you justify getting the electricity? And how will you install the computers that keep you up to date on grain market transactions?” she asked cautiously. “Lamar Lapp allowed me to make pottery to support my family, but he's dead set against modern technology.”

Wyman smiled. He'd obviously thought about all these angles. “We can share Tyler between the two elevators, and if he has a laptop it's not like we'll have his computer on the premises all the time. He'll enjoy setting up the new system and—”

“But what if Ray and his boys say no?” Amanda murmured. “What if they can't afford to buy your farm . . . or they don't want to?”