She quickly addressed an envelope and stuck the letter inside it. He’d get this in two days. Two days and it would be over. Would he write her back? She doubted it. What would be the point?
She slipped out of her room and downstairs, avoiding her mother whom she heard in the kitchen. She ran outside and down to the mailbox. She put the letter inside and raised the red flag. For a moment, she stared at the flag feeling like it somehow was a warning to Peter of what was to come. She shuddered, scolding herself for being so silly.
Her mother was waiting for her on the porch when she walked back up to the house. “Amy?” she said, her voice stern.
“Jah.”
“Come sit down.”
They sat together on the porch swing. Amy was nervous. What did her mother know?
“Your father just told me your engagement is off.” Fiona’s eyes narrowed. “I s’pose it’s a gut thing you hadn’t been published yet. But, Amy, you gave Peter your promise, and he loves you.”
“I know that.”
“What happened?”
Amy shifted uncomfortably. “Do we have to discuss it?”
Fiona sighed. “Nee. We don’t have to. I would just like to understand.”
“I… I don’t love Peter enough to marry him,” Amy said, hoping this was explanation enough.
“Do you love someone else?”
Amy bit her lip. She didn’t want to talk about it. She stared at the planter hanging from a porch beam. The fuchsia spilled out over it in a lovely display of bold color.
Her mother stirred. “I see,” she said. “All right, Amy. I’ll continue praying that Gott will give you wisdom and grace.”
“Thank you, Mamm.”
“You’re welcome.”
Amy stood up and with shaky legs, took herself inside the house.
Chapter Fifteen
The next day, Amy rode a bicycle to Andrew’s. Her mother had stood by the door and watched her leave, making Amy feel as if she were on display. Either that or being silently scolded.
Her heart was heavy. Her letter to Peter would be picked up today and would make good time. He’d get it tomorrow for sure. Peter didn’t even know they were no longer engaged, but she felt as if the door had slammed with a terrible finality. She was shaking slightly when she arrived at Andrew’s. She set her bike up against the porch steps and went inside.
Andrew was standing with Susie at the bottom of the stairway. “I didn’t know if you would come,” he said.
“I told you I would.”
“Amy… I really think—”
“Has Susie had her bottle?”
Andrew sighed. “Jah.”
“I’m thinking it might be time to start her on some rice cereal. Just to see if she likes it.”
“Really? Is she big enough?”
“She’s big enough. I’ll start her with just a bite or two.”
“I don’t have any rice cereal.”
“I can pick some up and bring it tomorrow.” Amy went into the kitchen and began getting things out to make scrambled eggs and bacon.
Andrew followed her to the kitchen. “Amy.”
She tensed. Wasn’t it better to pretend that yesterday never happened? She thought so. She could go back to just being Grace’s friend; someone who was there only to watch Susie. Not someone who was in love with Grace’s husband.
“Breakfast will be ready soon,” she said curtly.
Andrew came into the room and grabbed her arm. “Amy.” His voice was louder. He wasn’t going to be put off. She turned to him and forced herself to meet his gaze.
What she saw there made her breath catch. He was deeply upset, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He was nervous, too, she could tell by the way he was licking his lips.
“What is it, Andrew?” she asked, not wanting to hear his answer.
“I wanted to ask…” He sighed and seemed to have trouble putting his thoughts into words. She waited, growing more nervous by the second. “I wanted to ask you if…”
He stopped again. She took Susie from his arms and snuggled her; anything to avoid his piercing stare.
“Amy.”
“What?” She looked at him again.
“I know what you must have thought yesterday after I … after I kissed you.”
She drew in a long breath.
“I didn’t mean to be disrespectful of Grace … or you…”
“I know that, Andrew,” she murmured, feeling a lump of tears fill her throat.
“I love Grace. I always will…”
“I-I know that.”
“And I’m aware that a certain amount of time should pass before … well, before I even start thinking about … someone else.”
She tried to swallow past the tightness.
“But, but… I don’t know if it’s because I have Susie or just because I’ve always liked you. But the truth is, Amy, I have feelings for you.”
She let out her breath in a soft gasp. She tried to process what he was saying. Did he mean he only was fond of her because of Susie? Because if that was the only reason, then she couldn’t go forward. She couldn’t. She didn’t want him if all he wanted was a mother for his daughter. She blinked back her tears.
“So, you’re saying it’s only because of Susie,” she said, forcing the words out. Was she going to lose both Peter and Andrew during the same twenty-four hours? She shivered. How could she only be thinking of herself right then?
“That’s not what I meant,” he countered. “Jah, Susie is the reason maybe. Well, I know she is. If not for her, we wouldn’t have spent any time together. But as it was, we did. And even though I love Grace and miss her, I love you, too.”
Love? He loved her? She frowned. “How can you? It’s too soon.”
“Is it? My heart tells me otherwise.”
“But, I—” But what? What was she planning to say?
“Don’t you care for me at least a little?” He looked into her eyes and then reached up and touched her cheek. Tears spilled from her eyes. “Are you crying because you do, or because you don’t?”
“I-I do,” she stammered.
“And Peter?”
“I called off the engagement.”
His eyes widened and his face lit up. “Did you?”
She nodded, her tears increasing.
“Ach, Amy,” he cried and pulled her and Susie into his arms. “I know it’s too soon. I know we’ll need to wait another month at least—”
“A month?” she said, laughing through her tears. “That’s not very long.”
He drew back and looked into her eyes. “Please, Amy. Will you marry me in a month?”
“You’re sure you’ll feel the same way in a month?” This was happening so quickly, she felt breathless. Like she’d just run across her father’s fields without stopping.
He nodded, and there was not a look of doubt anywhere on his face. “I’m sure.”
She swallowed. Her heart was going to burst from her chest. “Then, jah,” she said. “I will.”
He laughed out loud and twirled her and the baby around. “I’ll need to talk to Bart and … Mavis.”
“She’s going to be angry.”
“Likely. But it will be okay. Bart will help. I don’t want you to worry about it. Not even for a moment.”
She nodded, hardly daring to believe this was happening. She was going to be Andrew’s wife? She would be able to share Susie’s life forever?
“Ach, Amy. Grace would be happy. I just know she would.”
Amy was silent for a moment, thinking of her dear friend. She thought of Grace’s smile, of her sense of fun, of the way she made a room feel brighter just by walking into it. Oh, Amy missed her best friend. Missed her so much it hurt.
But Andrew was right. Grace would be happy for her. For them. She would. Grace was generous and loving and gracious. She would be happy.
Amy looked at Susie and smiled. Then she looked up at Andrew. “Jah, you’re right. It’s true. Grace woul
d be happy,” she said.
Epilogue
We didn’t get married in a month like Andrew had said. He wanted to, but he changed his mind after talking with Bart. Bart wasn’t exactly overjoyed at the thought that Andrew was taking a new wife so soon, but he understood. He even told Andrew that he had chosen well, which made me feel right happy. But Bart advised Andrew to slow down a bit for Mavis’s sake. He promised that Mavis would come around if she was given some time.
So out of respect for both Bart and Mavis, Andrew asked me to wait three months instead.
I would have waited forever.
Once my folks knew of our engagement, I wasn’t allowed to go over to Andrew’s house alone to watch Susie. So, every day, Dat and I went to fetch her, and every afternoon, we took her back. We hadn’t arranged it that way in the first place because Andrew feared it would be too much for Susie, and I had agreed. But now, now that I was going to be her mamm, I didn’t think the new arrangement would matter as long as we were together.
And Mamm dotes on Susie. And surprisingly, Beulah has spent quite a little time with the boppli, too. It warms my heart to see my family growing so close to my precious Susie.
Mavis’s mamm died that next month, and Mavis came home exhausted and grieving. It was clear that Bart hadn’t told her about Andrew and me beforehand—likely so as not to upset her while she was caring for her mamm.
She wasn’t pleased. Not even a little. She demanded to take over Susie’s care immediately, and Andrew agreed, as long as I could come over every day and see the boppli for a short time.
In all truth, at first, it was tortuous. Mavis’s gaze shot darts at me no matter what I did—no matter how kind I tried to be to her. On the third day of the arrangement, she said, “Don’t think I’m not aware of what you did.”
I looked at her, puzzled. I had no idea what she meant. Her next words nearly laid me flat.
“You intentionally wormed your way in Grace’s home with the intent of taking everything from her—her husband, her child, her house.”
My mouth dropped open, and I gaped at her. I was so stunned, I couldn’t speak.
“You have no answer to that, do you? Because it’s true. Bart doesn’t think so, but I know so.”
And then, my tongue loosened. “It isn’t true, Mavis. Not a bit of it. I came to help with Susie out of my love for Grace. That was my only intention. My only intention,” I repeated. She was glaring at me and suddenly all I felt for her was sorrow. I sat down and faced her.
“You likely don’t want to hear this, but I’m going to say it.” I braced myself. “If you continue blaming me for this, you’re going to lose your granddaughter. Andrew isn’t going to want you to come near her—not if you say such hateful and untrue things about me. But the truth is, I want you to come. I want you to be part of Susie’s life. I want her to have her grandmother. So, please, Mavis. Rethink how you speak to me.”
My cheeks were on fire, and I was shaking from head to toe when I finished. Whoever heard of speaking so frankly to an elder? But it had to be said. Andrew was getting more and more exasperated with Mavis, and I knew how it was going to end if she didn’t change.
I watched as Mavis’s face contorted with all sorts of emotion after my little speech. I saw her intense dislike of me, her grief, her frustration, her fear. I didn’t say another word. I hardly dared to breathe. And then she drew herself up and squared her shoulders. Her lips thinned and she nodded.
“Fine,” she spat. “All right.”
I wondered how she could possibly mean it, considering her tone. But it was amazing. She didn’t start liking me again, but she tolerated me. And she never spoke one more word about how I’d plotted to steal everything from Grace.
* * *
Andrew and I were married late, during the normal wedding season, in early December. Mavis even helped my mother prepare the wedding food, which in my mind, was a huge concession. And since the wedding, I’ve been careful to invite Mavis over frequently. She comes, too, but then, why wouldn’t she? Susie recognizes her now and gurgles and smiles whenever she shows up.
And who knows? With time and lots of prayer, Mavis and I might even become close.
Peter is still up north. His family was invited to my wedding, of course. His mother came, and two of his brothers, but that was all. Peter didn’t come, and I suppose I should be relieved about that. But in a way, I wish he could have been there. I haven’t seen him since he left for the job, and I’d like to think we could be friends of a sort.
Peter did surprise me by writing back after he got my letter. He was angry and hurt, which came as no surprise. And he did blame me for not telling him the truth. I wanted to explain myself further, but I didn’t. Why prolong it? But I still feel badly about Peter and what happened, although it doesn’t cross my mind as much anymore.
I think of Grace often. If anything, I love her more than ever. And Andrew feels the same way, I think. But the love has changed. It feels more like memory love now, not present love. That sounds odd, I know. But, it’s true.
We’re heading into the coldest part of winter. It’s to be one of Indiana’s worst, I hear. It is bitter cold outside most days. But inside, here inside our cozy wonderful home, it’s warm. And comfortable. And filled with love.
Susie’s crawling now. Not much, but some. She gets up on her hands and knees and rocks back and forth and then goes forward an inch or two. It’s adorable. And now that the long evenings are upon us, Andrew and I are entertained for hours just watching her.
I look forward to the time when Andrew and I will bring another little one into our family. I have a feeling it won’t be long. There’s a knowing in my heart that it will happen soon, and I can’t wait for the day.
In the meantime, life goes on with wonderful rich blessed days. I remember when Beulah used to go on and on with me about what it feels like to really be in love. I didn’t understand her completely at the time.
But I do now.
In truth, I think what Andrew and I share has gone beyond Beulah’s explanation. Back then, I would never have guessed I could experience such happiness and contentment.
But I do.
And every single day, I thank Gott for it.
The End
Continue Reading…
Thank you for reading The Widower! If you’ve not read Amy’s Story #1, Caring for Susie, and Amy’s Story #2, Susie’s Mammi, you can find them HERE. If you have read them, are you wondering what to read next? Why not read The Affliction. Here’s a peek:
Black spots darted around the edges of Willa Springer’s vision. She blinked hard, trying to ignore them, but they only increased in frequency, forcing her to pay attention. She didn’t want to pay attention. She cleared her throat and looked at her mother who was dishing up the last helping of bread pudding to her eldest brother, Henry.
“Mamm, ain’t there more for me?” Fourteen-year-old Andy asked.
“We’ll have no whining at this table,” John Springer announced. “That goes for all of you.” He glared meaningfully at his four sons. He didn’t include Willa in his gaze. But then, Willa never complained.
About anything.
Least of all the raging headaches which attacked her with increasing frequency. The last thing she was worried about right then was who got the last serving of pudding. She grasped the edge of the table, fighting the woozy feeling of dizziness which threatened to overtake her.
Her mother Katie stopped moving, the serving spoon in mid-air. “Ach, nee!” she cried, looking at Willa. “It’s happening again, ain’t so?”
Willa nodded slowly; abrupt movements could spur the nausea, and she didn’t fancy vomiting right there at the table. Her mother dropped the empty bowl to the table. “Henry,” she said, her voice pinched, “help your sister up to her room. Andy, get a glass of cold water.”
The boys erupted off the bench to do their mother’s bidding. Henry was beside Willa’s side in seconds. “Come on,” he said gently, taki
ng her elbow and getting her up from the bench.
Willa closed her eyes and let him lead her up the stairs. Inside, she was cringing. She hated this. Hated it. Why did she have to have these horrid headaches? She prayed this one wouldn’t last long. Sometimes they hung on for days—long, horrible days of pain and weakness and lying alone in her darkened room.
Henry led her as a blind person into her room. She felt the edge of her bed and lay down with great care, careful not to jar herself any more than necessary.
“Sorry, sister,” Henry said. He pulled a quilt over her.
“I know,” she muttered, keeping her eyes closed. She heard him go to the window and draw the curtains closed.
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About the Author
I am blessed to live in part-time in Indiana, a state I share with many Amish communities, and part-time in Costa Rica. One of my favorite activities is exploring other cultures. My husband, Paul, and I have two grown children and five precious grandchildren. I love to hole up in our lake cabin and write. You’ll also often find me walking the shores by the sea. Happy Reading !
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