by Amy Lillard
“Boys,” she called, but she didn’t have to summon them twice. They had grown accustomed to her schedule and headed straight to the water spigot to wash up before supper.
For once, Baby Grace had settled down and was cooing softly from her place in the baby swing Gracie had found in the third bedroom upstairs. The room was primarily used as storage, though there was no rhyme or reason as to what was stored there and where it was put. The good news was she had found some everyday treasures there, including the swing and a stack of books that she had used to entertain Henry for the remainder of the afternoon. She had him reading to the twins and laughing proudly at the new skill he had discovered. Who knew how long he had been able to read and no one had known?
She finished putting the last of the food on the table, a jar of applesauce, the peanut butter spread, and a jar of kudzu jelly to go with the bread she had baked the day before.
The boys came back into the house, water trailing behind as they drip-dried on the way.
“Grab the towel, please.”
“You do it, Henry,” Stephen said.
“It’s not my turn,” Henry protested.
“It is too,” Stephen countered.
“Gracie,” Henry called, looking for backup.
She thought for a second. “It’s your turn, Henry.”
“Aw, man.” He kicked a bare toe at the edge of the linoleum and trudged back toward the door where they kept the towel they used to wipe the floor.
She hid her smile and started to take the bread to the table, nearly jumping out of her skin as she caught sight of Matthew. For a big man he sure moved quietly.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she breathed, one hand pressed over her heart.
“Obviously,” he drawled, and she thought she saw the twitch of a smile on his lips.
He shouldn’t have surprised her. He had come in for supper every night since their argument on Tuesday. It was wonderful and a little unnerving all at the same time. It was his house, what did she expect him to do? But at the same time, she wished he was eating somewhere else so she didn’t have to look across the table and see him there. It became entirely too easy to pretend that they were the happy family that she had always dreamed of having.
“Guess what?” Henry said the moment after the prayer. He lifted his head and pinned all his attention on his father.
“What’s that?” Matthew asked, picking out a couple of pieces of chicken and passing the platter to Gracie. She stood and gave each of the twins a leg, and a thigh for Henry.
“I can get my own,” Stephen said, taking the platter from her to spear his own piece. Then he passed it back to her so she could serve herself.
“I can read.” Henry’s smile stretched from ear to ear.
“You can not.” Stephen rolled his eyes at his brother’s words as if they were the dumbest thing he had ever heard.
“Can too,” Henry argued.
“Nuh-uh,” Stephen tossed back. “You can’t read because you haven’t been to school.”
“He can too,” Thomas said.
Benjamin nodded to back up his brother’s claim, but Stephen wasn’t convinced.
Henry looked crushed.
Gracie nudged Matthew under the table, getting his attention and nodding pointedly at his middle son.
“How about you read me something after supper?” Matthew asked.
Henry beamed. “I can.”
“Can not,” Stephen countered.
“Can too,” the other boys chorused.
“Enough,” Matthew said, his voice quiet but firm, and the boys fell silent.
“We got the shop all ready today and Gracie says I can run the cash register.” Henry shot his brother a challenging, tell-me-I’m-not look.
“I can too, right?” Stephen asked, looking to Gracie for confirmation.
“Of course,” she replied. “After school in the afternoons and this summer.”
“There’s only a week left of school,” Stephen said. “So next week I can run the cash register.”
“Jah,” she replied.
“But I can too,” Henry protested. “You said.”
Gracie smiled, flashing it to both boys equally. “You’ll take turns the way brothers should.”
They looked at each other, their looks warring, then they turned to Gracie.
“Okay,” Stephen said.
“Fine,” Henry grumbled.
Gracie ducked her head to keep them from seeing her grin. They were both so cute and in such competition with one another. But she had a feeling once they hit their late teens, they would be inseparable.
She looked up to find Matthew watching her, his expression unreadable.
She raised one brow in question, but his face never changed. He continued to study her as if he wasn’t quite sure what she was and how she had gotten into his house. The look was unnerving, and she found herself having to turn away. It was too intense, too raw and yet guarded. And what did it mean?
She looked back, but Matthew had switched his attention to Thomas, who got a splinter from helping clean the shop and was showing his father his bandage. It was a little larger than necessary. Well, maybe a lot larger, but he had been crying so, and for some reason bandages seemed to make everything better.
They finished their meal, discussing important things like fishing at the Gingeriches’ pond next weekend on the off-Sunday from church, crickets, and baseball. Then they had their after-meal prayer, and the boys helped her clear the table, then went into the living room to listen to their father read from the Bible. But tonight Henry had a turn. The words of the King James translation were difficult for him, but he managed to get most of them and prove to his father and his older brother that he could read. Matthew was suitably impressed, though Stephen’s response was filled with more resentment than praise.
Gracie listened from the kitchen, wondering where Henry had picked up the skill. It was almost as if he had been born reading, which wasn’t possible, but seemed like the only explanation.
After reading, she sent the boys upstairs to get ready for bed while she finished the kitchen and put Baby Grace down for the night. Then she went upstairs for the nightly tucking-in ritual.
She was just entering Stephen and Henry’s room when she heard the front door open and knew that Matthew had gone out.
Ever since their argument, he had been more present, but there were times like these when he relied on her to parent and allowed himself... what? Time to breathe? He had plenty of that when he was out in the fields. Time to be himself? Again, he was gone most of the day, coming in only for their noon meal and then at supper time. And he was missing so much.
Henry’s tooth had come out the day before. Between his broken arm and his snaggle teeth, he looked like one of those Englisch boxers. And there had been other, smaller occurrences like Thomas’s splinter and Benjamin’s black eye. He’d come around a corner too fast in the shop and run smack into one of the thick wooden display tables. Gracie just knew Matthew would have a fit when he saw, demanding to know why she wasn’t watching the boy, but he took his son by the chin and turned his head from side to side to check it out from all angles. He grunted something that sounded like boys are boys, then went to wash up for supper.
* * *
Church Sunday was always a little frantic when children were involved. There always seemed to be a boy’s missing shoe or a girl’s missing head-covering, or spit-up where a baby was involved. Today’s church Sunday included all three, along with broken suspenders, a loose button, and a tear in the church shirt they had cut the sleeve out of to accommodate Henry’s cast.
Only by the grace of God did they all get into the buggy and make it safely on time for church.
Gracie always loved church, loved hearing God’s word and about all the love He had for them all. Not every sermon was quite so uplifting, but she knew that all of the Word was equally important.
She received a couple of odd glances when she walked in, Ba
by Grace asleep and snuggled into the wrap-around carrier that she had found. She supposed no one had seen such a device. She hadn’t either until she found this one already among the baby’s things. She supposed Beth bought it somewhere, or perhaps received it as a gift from Ohio friends or family. Gracie found it immeasurably useful in allowing her to have the baby close but her hands free to do other things. She knew there would be a time, very soon, when Baby Grace would be too big to be carried in such a way, and until then she planned on using the carrier as much as she needed. Like today.
She could take the baby upstairs and listen to the sermon from up there, but it was so hard to hear with so many babies around and so far away from whoever was preaching, and she was afraid that if she got too comfortable she might just fall asleep, no matter how riveting today’s message might turn out to be.
So she filed in with the other ladies of the congregation and took her place between Hannah and her other cousin Abby. She had sat here or between Hannah and Eunice practically her whole life, except for the years when Hannah was gone and Tillie was in church. But always with her aunt and cousins. Yet today she could feel the gazes upon her. Which was ridiculous.
She was just uncomfortable, this first church Sunday since she and Matthew had gotten married. It was normal, she was certain, to feel eyes upon her. It was inevitable. The women were all wondering if she was already pregnant and if she would be able to handle two babies twelve months apart. But they were only wondering that because the baby she now held she hadn’t given birth to. Which was unfair. She may have only been taking care of Baby Grace for a few days, and the child might have cried for what seemed like most of it, but she loved the little munchkin. How could she not? Those big blue eyes were filled with such betrayal, such abandonment that Gracie felt a kinship with the other Grace. She too had lost her family. Maybe not in the same way. But she knew that loss. They were soul sisters, meant to be together. Or maybe even brought together by the Lord.
The thought was so enlightening she gasped, drawing several more gazes toward her.
She looked straight ahead, pretending that everything was just as it should be, but only managed to snag Matthew’s gaze from across the room. All this time she had thought that she was there for him, or maybe the boys, but perhaps her job was to keep Baby Grace on the Lord’s path. The idea was staggering.
From beside her Hannah reached out and touched the back of her hand.
Gracie didn’t need any words to know what the gesture meant. Are you okay?
She kept her gaze tangled with Matthew’s but squeezed her cousin’s fingers in response: Jah. I’m fine.
But she was more than fine, she was redefining her purpose. And the idea was staggering.
* * *
“What was that all about?” Hannah asked, sidling up next to her and nudging her in the ribs.
After the service, while they were setting up the tables and food to eat, Gracie switched Baby Grace from the fabric carrier to the one they used in the buggy, gave her a binky and a rattle, and pitched in to do her part. Now she was finishing up, serving the last of the ladies and the children before she would grab a plate of her own.
“Nothing.” She didn’t want to share her revelation, not even with Hannah.
“But you are okay?”
Gracie gave her a smile. “Of course. Jah.”
Hannah studied her a bit longer then took the pitcher of water from her. “Go get yourself a plate, I’ll finish up here.”
“But—” she started, but Hannah shook her head.
“Every week you are practically the last one to get a plate. I’ve already had a snack. Now go get something to eat, and I’ll pour drinks. You look like you’re about to fall over.”
Gracie smiled gratefully but shook her head.
“I will not take no for an answer. You can’t give so much of yourself that there’s nothing left to have for your own.”
“Did Eunice say that?”
Hannah frowned at her with a mock seriousness. “No, I did. Just then.”
Gracie laughed and reached down to get Baby Grace’s carrier.
Hannah moved to stand between her and it. “Nope. Leave the baby here with me.”
Gracie opened her mouth to protest again, but Hannah cut her off with a shake of her head. “I will not take no for an answer.”
“Okay. Danki,” Gracie said and moved to get a plate. But first she needed to use the outhouse and wash her hands. She hadn’t gone since before she left the house, and that was over four hours ago.
Remarkably enough there wasn’t a line at the outhouse and she pulled in a deep breath before plunging inside. Outhouses were never particularly pleasant, but on a church Sunday they were particularly fragrant. Gracie always found it best to get in, get her business done, and get out in as little time as possible. And that had been her plan until she heard the voices outside the wooden walls.
“There’s something strange about the whole thing,” a woman’s voice was saying. It sounded a lot like Mary Ann Hostetler, but she wasn’t certain.
“I think you were just hoping for a chance with him yourself,” the other woman replied. If the first woman was Mary Ann, then that would have to be Freda Esh, because they were inseparable.
“Me?” Mary Ann squeaked. “Not a chance. He’s just too . . . big, and dark, and moody.”
There was only one person with that description: Matthew Byler. They were talking about her and Matthew!
As much as a part of her wanted to stay inside the outhouse and eavesdrop, she knew it was wrong. And even if she had been tempted, the smell alone would discourage such behavior. But if she left now, they would know that she knew that they had been talking about her and Matthew.
Did she care?
For some reason she did. She didn’t want people analyzing her marriage. Not when she hadn’t gotten it figured out yet. And especially not when she thought it might have a greater purpose than any of them knew. But she couldn’t continue to hold her breath and she wasn’t sure how long she could stand breathing in . . . outhouse air.
She had no choice.
“There’s something weird about his wife’s death too,” Mary Ann was saying. “Don’t you think?”
“Maybe Gracie should take a little more care—”
Gracie couldn’t take it any longer. She burst from the outhouse, the door slamming to one side as she gulped for fresh air.
Granted, it was still tainted by proximity, but it was a sight better than the closed-up air inside the bathroom box.
The two women whirled around, more than shocked to see her standing there. After all, what were the odds that she would be in the outhouse at the exact time that they snuck around back to gossip about her without being heard?
Somewhere on the spectrum of slim to divine intervention.
“Hi.” Gracie smiled, unwilling to cause a scene. She just wanted to clean her hands and get a plate and forget this ever happened.
“Hi,” Freda returned. “We didn’t know you were back here.”
Obviously. “Well, when you have to go, you have to go.” Her smile began to waver. And she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up this charade.
How could someone feel they were doing the right thing for themselves and another person or persons, while others only saw it as fodder for the gossip mill?
Mary Ann and Freda exchanged an I don’t know, how much do you think she heard? look, then forced their own smiles.
“I guess I’ll go check on my baby. I mean, Matthew’s baby.” Why did she say that? She was already beginning to think of Baby Grace as her own. Especially since Matthew didn’t seem to want to have anything to do with her. Not that he did much more with the boys, but some.
She moved to go around them, and they let her. She could feel their gazes on her as she walked away. Her legs wobbled, and it seemed as if she had half forgotten how to walk. She stumbled once and managed to catch herself but didn’t look back to see if they were st
ill watching. She knew they were.
Gracie rounded the house and went over to the water spigot to wash her hands, out of sheer habit. It wasn’t like she had any kind of appetite now. Even if she hadn’t had an extended stay inside the outhouse, the conversation she had overheard would surely have taken away any desire she had for food.
It was one thing for her to analyze her marriage and quite another for the people of her church to do so. But what had she expected to happen? Truly.
Without a second thought she moved over to the table where Hannah and Baby Grace waited.
“Where’s your plate?” Hannah asked.
Gracie shook her head. “I decided I’m not hungry after all.”
Hannah eyed her shrewdly. “What happened?”
“Happened? Nothing happened. What makes you think something happened?”
“Well, because when something does happen and you want to hide it, you overcompensate.”
Gracie blinked. “Me?”
Hannah shot her a pointed look.
“I really don’t want to talk about it.” It was the best she could do. And it was the truth. She didn’t want to talk about it. It was still new and raw. She wanted to examine it first, hold it close for a little bit before she shared.
“All right,” Hannah said, but Gracie knew she wasn’t letting it go entirely. Cousins’ day she would have to answer for it all, she knew. But until then she had a day and a half to come up with the answers, try to figure out why the gossip bothered her. She already knew why she said that about Matthew’s baby. She might be his wife, and she might be caregiver to his children, but she was nowhere near their mother. So why did it hurt so much that others knew that her marriage was as much of a farce as it truly was? It didn’t change one detail. But somehow it hurt more.