Susie's Mammi (Amy's Story Book 2)

by Brenda Maxfield

  “I thought we might walk down Potter’s Lane. It’s fairly deserted.”

  She’d assumed they were heading for Edmund’s Pond. That was where all couples walked. But then, this was a better idea. Less possibility of gawking eyes.

  “So, you got away all right,” he asked.

  “Jah. Susie’s down for the night. Well, she’ll get up to eat once or maybe twice, but she’ll sleep now for probably four or five hours.”

  “And Grace’s folks get here soon?”

  “Tomorrow evening, I think.” Even saying the words tightened Amy’s stomach. In truth, she felt a bit nauseous.

  “Your mamm will be glad to have you and your sister home.”

  She nodded. “Canning season is upon us, so jah. She’ll need our help.”

  Peter was silent for a while, kicking loose stones along the road. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said.

  She looked at him. “All right.”

  “It’s about our future…”

  His voice did not sound excited.

  “What is it?” she asked, not sure if she really wanted to know.

  Chapter Six

  “I spoke with my dat about his land. I’d planned … I’d hoped to receive a gut portion of it,” Peter said. He ran his hand over his chin and Amy could feel the nervousness radiating off of him.

  “Jah?”

  “Uh, he isn’t inclined to divide it up just yet—”

  “He ain’t that old, Peter.”

  “I know. I know.” He sighed. “But I thought, well, I wanted to get us started on our own.”

  “Do we need his land to do that? Maybe we can lease a place.”

  “I-I don’t have much money right now,” he said, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “I don’t have enough. And, Daadi’s in our daadi haus, so that ain’t an option, either.”

  “I see.” What exactly was he trying to tell her?

  He looked at her now, with a pleading expression. “So, we’d have to live in my room for the foreseeable future. Is that all right?”

  She blinked. “Jah… Of course…” She frowned slightly, trying to discern what that really implied. It sounded like they would have to live with his parents until his dad divided the land. And that could be years away.

  He blew out his breath. “Gut. That’s a relief. I was afraid to tell you…”

  “Maybe for years then?” she asked, wanting to be clear. “We’d live in your bedroom for years?”

  His brow lowered, and he looked nervous again. “Not just in the bedroom, of course… But with my folks. Well, that, or if I find a job, we can move out sooner.”

  “And you want to find a job?”

  “Uh, jah, of course…” She could tell that he was treading lightly, trying to figure out what she was thinking.

  She was, too. What was she thinking? Did she want to live as a married woman in another woman’s house for years and years? And when they had children, what then? Would they squeeze them into his bedroom, too?

  She was silent, taking it all in. He began talking about their crop, how good it looked, how the weather had really cooperated that year. But her mind was stuck on her future, and she was horrified to realize that she wasn’t very excited about it. What did that say about her?

  She stared out at the fields they were passing, seeing the tall corn rustle in the evening breeze. Was she being petty? Acting spoiled? Because truth be told, she wasn’t too keen on living with the Rabers for years on end. And it didn’t really seem like Peter had done a whole lot to avoid that. Her face grew hot. She should be ashamed of herself. Lots of couples started out that way. But for years? No. Not usually.

  Her mind went back to his proposal. At the time, she’d wondered whether he’d proposed under pressure. Beulah had gone out of her way to rile up some jealousy in him regarding Amy’s continual contact with Andrew. At the time, Amy had been furious with her sister, but Beulah of course, just took it all in stride.

  “I’m trying to help you,” she’d said.

  And indeed, it seemed that she had. Peter proposed to her that very same day. But now… Now, Amy realized that he hadn’t really been ready. And she’d jumped in with an immediate acceptance—they hadn’t really talked about practical things at all. She’d had no idea she would have to live with his parents for years. And she certainly didn’t have a wad of money hidden somewhere to help them out.

  “Amy?”

  She gave a start and looked over at him. “Jah?”

  “What do you think?”

  She blinked rapidly. “About what?”

  He frowned. “Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

  She smiled. “I’m sorry, Peter. My mind is wandering.”

  He shrugged. “It’s all right. I was just rambling on about goats and chickens.” He laughed. “Not exactly riveting conversation, is it?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s not that. I was, well, I was just lost in thought. Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize.” He grew silent and then stopped walking, taking her hand.

  She quickly glanced up and down the road, and since no cars or buggies seemed to be about, she didn’t pull her hand away. “What is it?” she asked.

  “You’re worried, ain’t so?” His eyes searched hers. “You were thinking about what I told you.”

  She took a quick intake of breath. She didn’t want to admit the truth because it made her sound small. And she didn’t want to be that way. She wanted to be flexible and open and grateful.

  “I ain’t worried,” she said. So, now she was lying?

  He let out his breath. “Gut. I don’t want you to worry. With time, I’ll figure something out. I will, Amy. Just you wait and see.”

  “I told you I ain’t worried,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Besides, I know you’ll figure something out.”

  But did she know that? She gazed at his face, taking in his brown eyes, his thin lips, his straight nose. By all respects, he was a good-looking fellow. And he was nice. Beulah even thought so; although, she did mention the word boring, too. But then, most folks were boring to Beulah.

  “I-I s’pose I should be getting back,” she said, trying to pull her hand free.

  But he clasped it tighter and then leaned down to kiss her cheek. It was a sweet kiss, tender and loving, but she was uncomfortable. They were right out in the middle of the world, standing there on the road. It wasn’t seemly.

  “Let’s go back now,” he said, smiling. They turned and headed toward Andrew’s farm. Peter didn’t let go of her hand, and now Amy was hesitant to pull it away, not wanting to create an issue or make Peter feel bad.

  “Thank you for coming this evening,” she told him.

  “I was glad to come. I miss you during the day.”

  Her eyebrows raised. “Do you?”

  “Jah. Of course, I do. I’m looking forward to when I can see you anytime I want.” He was grinning widely now and holding her hand snugly in his own.

  She returned his smile. “Jah. That will be nice.”

  Suddenly, she wanted to be back at Andrew’s. She wanted to be sitting in the rocker, holding Susie. She wanted this walk to be over.

  Chapter Seven

  “How was your stroll with Peter?” Beulah asked pointedly when Amy came into the house.

  Amy glanced around. They were alone. “It was fine.”

  “Fine?” Beulah moved closer. “You were out with your fiancé, and it was only fine?”

  Amy frowned. “Well, how else should it be?”

  Beulah shook her head in disbelief. “How about magnificent, exciting, or full of fun? Maybe even really nice? Goodness, Amy. You make me want to weep.”

  “Why in the world would you want to weep?”

  “Because my sister is engaged to her beau, and she doesn’t seem the least thrilled about it.”

  “I’m not the same as you,” Amy snapped.

  “That is abundantly clear,” Beulah said, her eyes filled with pity.

  See
ing her expression, Amy took a step back. She stared at Beulah. She sighed into the silence and then her shoulders slumped. “Is that really true, Beulah? Do you really want to weep?”

  Beulah let out her breath in a moan. “Jah. It’s true. But what do I know? Just ignore me. You seem to be doing just fine.”

  But her words were sad, and Amy had a sudden feeling of loneliness. Or emptiness. She couldn’t decide which.

  “How do you feel when you spend time with Uriah?” she asked, not entirely wanting to hear her sister’s answer.

  Beulah perked up. “Excited. Thrilled. Like I can’t wait another minute until I see him. Sometimes…” she bent closer to Amy’s ear, “I feel mischievous, a bit naughty.”

  She straightened and gave Amy a wary look. “Now, don’t throw a fit. I’m behaving myself. More or less. You needn’t worry. With Uriah, I feel alive. Do you know how that feels Amy? Alive?”

  Amy gaped at her sister. She didn’t have a clue what Beulah meant. Alive? They were alive. How else could she feel? But she was troubled. There was something to what Beulah was saying. Something Amy wanted to grasp, to understand.

  “Hello, Amy.”

  Amy twirled to see Andrew come into the room. “Hello, Andrew.”

  “How was your walk?”

  She swallowed. “Fine.”

  Beulah snorted and disappeared quickly into the kitchen.

  “I didn’t go back out to the fields yet, even though Beulah was here. I did feed Susie, so she should be content for a while.”

  “Is she sleeping?”

  “Jah.” He chuckled. “All that boppli does is sleep.” He chuckled again. “And cry.”

  Amy smiled. “That she does. But she smiles now, and it’s so sweet.”

  Andrew gave her a look that seemed to penetrate her very soul. “Jah. Her smile is definitely sweet.”

  Amy drew in a shaky breath. “It… I mean, the smile looks like Grace’s smile, don’t you think?”

  Andrew blinked. “It does. She looks an awful lot like Grace all around.”

  “That she does.”

  They stood silently, both lost in their thoughts. And then Amy gave him a smile and said, “I’ll just run up and check on her quickly. So, you’ll be back in for supper?”

  “I’ll be back in for supper.” He pressed his straw hat low on his forehead. “Bye, Amy.”

  “Bye,” she whispered.

  She climbed the steps slowly, her thoughts whirling about. She was glad her walk with Peter was over. She had a lot of thinking—no, a lot of adjusting—to do. She ran her hands along the stair rail and felt a sense of peace to be back in this house. Grace’s house. Amy loved it here and would miss it when she had to go back home. The house had become like a living thing to her, wrapping its arms around her in her grief. It gave her comfort.

  How much of that had to do with its residents? A lot, really. Susie’s presence had become part of Amy. Amy’s arms felt empty without her.

  How in the world was she going to leave when Grace’s folks showed up?

  Amy thought again about her emotional reaction to Peter’s news. Shouldn’t she be excited to be with Peter no matter where they lived? She wondered how willing she would be to do the same if it were Susie and Andrew. She stopped cold.

  Susie and Andrew?

  What was she thinking? She sucked in her breath and hurried the rest of the way upstairs, shoving her thoughts aside —determined to never think such a thing again.

  * * *

  The next afternoon, Andrew paced the front porch. He should be out working, but he couldn’t do it. Mavis and Bart could be there at any moment. The last he’d heard, they would arrive by supper. Through the screen door, he could hear Amy and Beulah in the kitchen cooking. No left-overs that evening. Amy was treating it more like a noon meal, instead of supper.

  It was right nice of her.

  Amy. He’d grown so used to having her around. It was going to be odd when she left. He’d likely have to take both Amy and Beulah home that evening in his buggy. He continued to pace. What was he going to do without her? Amy anchored him. Coming downstairs after a restless night of missing Grace, he would see Amy bustling about the kitchen and it calmed his soul. Made him believe that life would be all right. It could even be good again.

  And Susie? She was going to be lost without Amy. In Susie’s little heart and mind, he was sure she thought of Amy as her mother. But now, with Mavis coming…

  Mavis was a hard woman. Oh, she meant well, he was sure. But her manner, her way of being was hard. He knew that it was only right for Mavis to care for Susie, but he dreaded it. Dreaded what it would mean to him and to his newborn daughter. Dreaded her moving into his household and disrupting everything, changing everything—for he was sure she would. Even Grace sometimes shuddered when her mother was coming over. She’d run about, trying to ensure everything was beyond criticism. It wore her out.

  It wore him out.

  And now she was coming back, and he didn’t know how exactly it was going to play out. He liked Bart well enough, but Bart definitely bowed to Mavis’s wishes. Clearly, he’d learned long ago that if he didn’t give Mavis what she wanted, it was going to be miserable for him.

  Amy poked her head outside. “Not here yet?”

  He stopped walking and faced her. “You can stay the night.”

  She raised a brow. “Ach, nee. I don’t think Mavis would like that.”

  “But Susie…”

  Amy’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “She’ll be fine. Mavis is her grossmammi, after all.”

  “Jah, but she’s used to you. I think she’s going to be lost.”

  Amy bit her lip. “Don’t say that, Andrew. I can’t bear it.” She sucked in a gulping breath.

  He walked over to her. “I’m sorry, Amy. The last thing I want to do is cause you pain.”

  She shook her head and worked to blink her tears away. “Nee. Pay me no mind. It’s fine.”

  “Except that it isn’t,” he said softly. He wanted to take her hands, comfort her somehow. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me… I mean for us, Susie and me.”

  Amy nodded and a tear slipped down her cheek. “I… I wanted to do it. For, for Grace.”

  “Of course. For Grace.” He tried to look into her eyes, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, Amy.”

  “What for?”

  Indeed, what for? He licked his lips. “For everything, I guess.”

  “None of this is your fault, Andrew.”

  His mind flew back to the loose board in the loft floor. He wondered for the hundredth time whether that was the cause of Grace’s fall.

  “Andrew?” Amy asked, looking at him now.

  He blinked and blew out his breath. “Right… Right.”

  “Andrew? What is it?”

  Clearly, she knew him too well. He supposed that wasn’t too unusual, considering she’d shared his home for all these weeks. She stepped outside, now, closing the screen quietly behind her.

  “What is it?” she asked again.

  He wanted to tell her. He wanted to unburden himself. He’d never breathed a word of his suspicions to anyone. Never breathed a word of the guilt that often plagued him in the middle of the night. But now, looking into Amy’s gentle eyes and concerned expression, something inside him rushed forward and he found himself telling her.

  “There’s a board in the loft,” he began slowly, nearly choking on the words. “It’s loose. I knew it was loose, but I never nailed it down. I was going to, of course, but other things… You know how it is. But I wonder… Is that why Grace fell? Did she trip on the board? Is her death because of me?”

  Hearing his words out loud, hearing the silence that followed them, sliced through his heart. He watched Amy’s face, her blank expression, and his throat nearly closed. What had he been thinking to blurt all that out? Was he crazy? He held his breath, wishing with everything in him that he’d kept his big mouth shut. He took a step back, wanting to
turn away and leave. Just leave.

  “But…” Amy started, her voice thick, “but you can’t know that, Andrew. And even if it were true, it was an accident.”

  He sucked in a breath and stared at her.

  “We’ll never know, will we? And why was she up there? She knew better than to climb a ladder in her condition. She wasn’t a stupid woman, Andrew. Why was she up there? I’ve wondered and wondered and wondered. Was it a kitty? Did a kitty need rescuing? That’s the only thing I can imagine. But tripping on a board? I don’t think so. I don’t. I think she lost her balance because she was so heavy, so ungainly. She made a mistake. And it cost her … it cost her…” Amy swallowed hugely. “It cost her, her life. It was an accident. An accident. A terrible, terrible accident.”

  Amy was crying now, tears spilling from her eyes, but she didn’t make a sound. She just stood there before him, crying silently. He wanted to grab onto her, hold her, and weep with her. He wanted to bury his face in her shoulder and let her comfort him. He wanted to cry and cry and cry. He wanted to not feel guilty. He wanted this to be all over.

  For Susie to have her mother back. For him to have his wife back.

  They stared at each other until his mixed-up rooster crowed, and the spell was broken.

  “I can’t stay the night, Andrew,” she said, her voice clear now, almost business-like. “Mavis wouldn’t appreciate it.”

  He blinked back his tears. “You’re right,” he said regretfully. “You’re right.”

  At that very moment, a van pulled into the drive and headed for the porch. Andrew took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He glanced back at Amy, but she was gone, having slipped back into the house.

  Chapter Eight

  Amy watched through the window as Mavis and Bart climbed out of the van. They both looked stiff and uncomfortable. Mavis was rolling her head from side to side as if to work out the kinks. Bart had already gone to the back of the van to grab their luggage from the driver.

  Andrew was greeting them now. Mavis grabbed him in a hug and then quickly let go. Amy could see she was crying. Bart came around and dropped the luggage, giving Andrew a hug, too. The three of them stood for a moment, talking, while the driver drove away.