“Nee. I want to stretch my legs. I’ll get it.”
As soon as her mother went inside, Beulah got up and ran down the steps and across the lawn. She reached the road and gazed down it—in the direction Uriah would come. Nothing. Quickly, she dashed back to the porch.
The screen door squawked. “Here we are,” Fiona said, placing the two glasses onto the wicker table.
“Thanks, Mamm.”
Fiona sat down. “I want to say something to you…”
Beulah tensed.
“I know we don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, daughter. And I know you get downright aggravated with your dat and me. But you’ve handled things so well with all this Uriah business. Truth be told, your dat and I were concerned about your reaction to not being allowed to see Uriah. We expected a world of problems. But you’ve been real gut about it.”
Fiona reached over and clasped Beulah’s knee.
“Thank you, daughter.”
Beulah looked down at her mother’s hand on her knee and gulped. What in the world would her mother do when she learned the truth of it? And where in the world was Uriah? She swallowed hard and glanced up at her mother and put on a smile. Fiona chuckled softly, squeezed Beulah’s knee and then let go and took a sip of her lemonade.
“It’s a right nice day, ain’t so?” she asked, rocking gently.
“Jah,” Beulah choked out. “A right nice day.”
She managed to drink some lemonade around the lump of dread in her throat. As the afternoon wore on, her dread turned to fear. Had something happened to Uriah? Was he ill? Was there an accident of some sort?
Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Do you mind if I don’t help with supper, Mamm?” she asked, standing up. “I’m awful tired, and I’ve got a headache.”
“Do you?” Fiona asked, all concerned now. “Why don’t you go up and lie down for a spell? Drink some water first. It’s been hot today. Maybe you got dehydrated.”
“Okay,” Beulah said, wishing she was dehydrated and that a glass of water would put things right. Where was Uriah?
By the time supper was over, Beulah had to face facts. Uriah wasn’t going to come that day. She would be spending another night in her own bed in her own room. She couldn’t imagine what had happened. She played their conversation over and over in her head, wondering if she’d somehow misunderstood. But she couldn’t see how. They had clearly made arrangements for him to come that afternoon.
So, why hadn’t he?
Had he changed his mind? The thought brought bile up her throat. No. No, he would never do that to her. Never. He loved her. And they were married now. So even if he wanted to change his mind, he couldn’t. Things like that simply weren’t done in their community.
She could hardly wait for darkness to fall. She was certain Uriah would be out by her drive waiting for her. She only had to wait until her folks went to bed, and then she could sneak out. She’d never really minded sneaking out before. But somehow, now that she was married, it seemed demeaning. Insulting, somehow. She shouldn’t have to sneak around anymore.
She spent the evening in her room, resting. Her mother popped her head in before she went to bed.
“How’s the headache?” she asked.
“Better,” Beulah answered.
Fiona came into her room, carrying a glass of water and some soda crackers. “Here you go,” she said. “In case you get hungry in the night. And try to drink the whole glass of water. It will do you gut.”
Beulah’s eyes burned with tears. It wasn’t right that her mother would be so nice to her when Beulah was going to soon wreak havoc with her world.
“Thank you,” she muttered.
Fiona touched her cheek tenderly and left the room.
Beulah lay stiffly until she heard the bathroom door open and close twice. Then some footsteps in the hallway and silence. They were in bed now. She could go soon. She waited as long as she could without hollering with frustration and impatience. And then she slipped out of her room and down the stairs. The cool air outside felt good on her face as she ran across the lawn.
She quickly reached the end of the drive.
“Uriah?” she called out softly. “Are you here?”
Crickets chirped, and a car swished by down the road.
“Uriah?” she called out again. She strained her eyes to see down the road and nearly gasped with relief when she spotted a dark figure coming toward her. It was him. She could tell by his easy stride and the way his arms swung by his sides.
She rushed to him and threw herself into his arms.
“Uriah!” she cried.
He caught her up and kissed her deeply and then let her go. “Hello, Beulah.”
“Where were you today?” she asked, annoyance now replacing her relief.
“I-I couldn’t get away.”
“What do you mean? Did you tell your folks?”
He shook his head. “Nee. It wasn’t a gut day.”
She stared at him, trying to see his expression in the dark. “What does that mean?” she demanded.
“It means it wasn’t a gut day,” he repeated, impatience in his tone.
“But I waited…”
“You didn’t tell your folks, did you?” he asked, his words quick and pointed.
“I was waiting for you. I want to do it together. Isn’t that what we agreed?”
“I think…” He put his arms around her, and she was sure she could feel a slight tremble in his embrace. “I think we should wait a bit.”
“What?”
“I think we should wait.”
She wriggled out of his arms. “Why?”
“I don’t think the timing is right.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. “And when will the timing be right then? Tomorrow? Next week? A month from now? When we’re thirty?” Her voice was rising, and she couldn’t seem to stop it.
“No need to get nasty,” he cut in. “Just a while. We’ll wait a while.”
“But why, Uriah? Why wait?”
“I just think…” He sucked in a huge breath. “I just think we should.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the best answer I’ve got.”
She blinked up at him, ready to cry and hating herself for it. She was breathing fast and her chest hurt. She couldn’t understand what was going on. Did he regret marrying her?
“You’re sorry,” she said bluntly. “You’re sorry we got married.”
“We didn’t really get married,” he said, his voice dull. “Not really, Beulah. We both know that.”
Her eyes stretched wide. What? Did he mean it? Was he serious? She backed away from him. Her foot hit a rock and she stumbled, going down on her knees. The sharp gravel poked through her skin, and she let out a soft cry. He reached out and pulled her up by the arm. She shook her arm out of his grip.
“Leave me alone,” she cried. “Leave me alone! How could you, Uriah? How could you?” He was horrid. How could she have been so stupid? She turned and started running back to her driveway, but he caught up with her and grabbed her, stopping her.
“Don’t be like this,” he said. “I never said I didn’t love you anymore. I just think we got ahead of ourselves.”
“Ahead of ourselves?” she cried. “But we… we…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it.
“Calm down,” he told her. “Everything will be fine. We’ll just go on—”
“Nee,” she said. “Everything will not be fine. What if I’m with child? What if—”
He grabbed her arm. “You aren’t with child. We only did it once.”
“Once is enough, you stupid—”
“Stupid?” He was hollering at her now. “You think I’m stupid? Just like everyone else in this district?”
Her face crumpled. “Nee. I’m sorry. You’re not stupid.”
She was the stupid one. How could she have given herself to him like that? How could she have? She’d trusted him…
“I want to go home. Let go of me. I’m going home.”
“Beulah, don’t be this way. We’ll just wait a bit longer. Come on. Don’t be this way?”
What way? she thought. What way am I being? She shook her head and walked away from him, her feet like leaden balls of weight.
“Beulah!”
She paused. He ran to her and took her hand. “I’ve brought a quilt. I thought… Well, I thought we could go visit our tree.”
“Our tree?” she asked, glaring at him.
He shuffled his foot in the dirt. “Jah. You know. The same tree as last night. You’re over-reacting to all this. We’re still us, you know. We still love each other. Let’s be together tonight. Eventually, we’ll be married, Beulah. You know we will. Come on. Don’t be this way.”
“Visit our tree?” she asked, still trying to digest everything he was saying, everything he was suggesting.
He laughed softly. “Sure. Our tree. Well, you know what I mean.”
“I do know,” she said, her voice edged with bitterness. “And nee. I won’t be visiting our tree tonight.”
He leaned down and kissed her, but she didn’t kiss him back.
“Ach, come on, Beulah. Relax.”
By now, her throat was so tight, she feared she would vomit. She pulled away from him and ran. Her tears blinded her, and combined with the darkness, she was surprised when she made it back to her side porch without tripping and falling again. She grasped the railing and stood for a moment, trying to catch her breath.
What had just happened?
Was Uriah never going to tell his parents? And what if she did become pregnant? What then? She sank down on the bottom step and held her face in her hands. She was a fool. Amy had warned her. And warned her and warned her. But would she listen to her sister?
Oh no. Because she knew better.
She always knew better.
The sobs burst up her throat, and desperately, she clamped her hand over her mouth. She couldn’t make any noise. She couldn’t. If her parents heard her—if they heard her crying—
It would be too much. They’d be deeply alarmed. Scared even. Beulah simply didn’t cry. She had things under control. Even when she was flying in the face of tradition, she had things under control.
But not this time. Oh, dear Lord, not this time.
She didn’t know how long she sat on the step, weeping into her hands. Finally, when she was spent and her tears were dried up, she stood and went inside, moving slowly, breathing softly, doing her best not to make any noise at all.
To make it seem like she hadn’t been outside at all.
Chapter Eleven
Ethan Miller carried the pail of milk into the house, doing his best not to slop any over the side. He was walking too fast for it, though, and a bit dribbled over the edge. Slow down, he told himself.
But he could hardly do that, now, could he? He was too excited. Like a kid dipping his hand into a candy jar, he was. He chuckled at the image and walked into the kitchen.
“Ach, Ethan. Thank you for bringing the milk,” Amy said, smiling at him.
“Sure thing,” he answered. He sniffed. “You making muffins or something?”
“I am. Blueberry. They’ll be done right quick, and then I’ll just scramble up the eggs. Did you see Andrew out there?”
“He’s with the goats.”
She stopped bustling about and faced him. “Today is the day, ain’t so?”
Ethan grinned. “Today is the day.”
“I’m right excited for you, Ethan.”
“Me, too. That buggy shop is fine. I’m thinking of changing its name. What do you think?”
“To what?”
He felt his cheeks grow warm. “Well, I was thinking to call it Ethan’s Buggy Shop.”
She smiled. “I think that is most appropriate.”
“Who makes signs around here?”
“There are a few people. William Litwiller for one. Andrew can take you.”
He nodded, feeling ready to burst or maybe just break out in song. He shook his head. He’d never been so excited about anything before in his life.
“I’ll be moving out shortly then. Be out of your hair.”
Amy laughed. “You haven’t been in our hair, Ethan. We’ve been right glad to have you.”
“And I appreciate it more than I can say. But there’s living quarters above the shop. They’re decent, too. I’ll be moving in there.”
“Do you need painting done? How about furniture?”
“Ezekiel is taking his furniture, so jah, I’ll need some.”
“You can use the bed you’ve been sleeping in. We won’t need it for some time.”
“Could I?”
She nodded. “Of course. And if there’s painting to be done, we can get up a small frolic. It’d be done in no time.”
“That sounds awful nice,” he said, his heart full. He loved this place. Loved Hollybrook. He hadn’t been here long, but he already felt more at home than he’d felt in a long time. Making this move was the best thing he could have done for himself.
“I’ll speak with Andrew.”
A timer dinged, and Amy grabbed two hot pads. “Muffins are done. I’ll whip up the eggs.”
“And I’ll check to see if Andrew needs help. We’ll be in shortly.”
He heard Susie start to cry upstairs.
“You want me to fetch the boppli?” he asked.
She put down the egg she was holding. “Would you?”
“Sure. I’ll bring her right down.”
“Thank you, Ethan. Don’t worry about changing her diaper. I’ll change her down here.”
Change her? He smiled as he went up the steps two at a time. He hadn’t considered having to change her, or he might not have volunteered. He’d certainly let Amy take care of that. During the time he’d been with his cousin’s family, he’d grown mighty fond of little Susie. Someday, he’d have a daughter of his own. That he would. A pretty little thing just like Susie.
He walked into the nursery and saw Susie sitting in the middle of her cradle, hollering up a storm.
“Now, now,” he crooned as he went to her.
She blinked up at him, copious tears running down her cheeks.
“Come on,” he said and scooped her up. “Whoa, Susie. You do need changing.” He laughed and carried her back downstairs. As he walked into the kitchen, the image of Amy’s sister filled his mind. Beulah. She seemed to be full of personality, that one. He liked her. She had some fire to her, though.
During the two times he’d seen her, he’d thought at first that she was somewhat smitten with him. But then, in a flash, it would flip to the opposite, and she would scurry away as fast as she could. She intrigued him, for sure and for certain.
He definitely wanted to get to know Amy’s sister better.
“Here she is,” he told Amy. “And you’re right, she needs changing.”
Amy went to Susie, her arms outstretched. “Gut morning, little one. Shall we get that nasty wet diaper off of you?”
And the two of them disappeared into the sewing room where Ethan knew she had an extra changing table set up.
* * *
Beulah felt sick to her stomach the entire next day, but she refused to take to her bed. She wouldn’t give Uriah the satisfaction. But who was she kidding? Uriah didn’t care a fig about her. When was she going to realize that?
Fiona stared at her all morning, so she clearly knew something was wrong. But just as she would begin to ask her about it, Beulah would cut in with some inane remark to distract her. It worked, too, until they were in the kitchen together preparing the noon meal.
“You’ve been out of sorts all day, ain’t so?” Fiona asked, pulling out a cake tin.
“Nee. I’m fine.”
“Are you coming down with something? You look a bit peaked. Shall I go for Old Mae?”
“Nee, Mamm. I said I’m fine.”
Fiona shrugged. “So you say. But it seems to
me that you’ve been a bit under the weather for a couple days now. Maybe not under the weather, but there’s been something going on.”
“I’m fine.” Beulah worked to keep her voice level, but she wasn’t succeeding.
“Is this still about Uriah Umble?”
“Mamm,” Beulah cried. “I’ve said I’m fine.”
Fiona pursed her lips. “Why don’t you go see Amy? And tell her I’m still waiting for her to come by with Susie.”
“I’m helping you with dinner.”
“I can do this myself. I think you need to get out a bit.”
Get out a bit. If only her mother knew what she’d been doing…
She set the banana she was slicing down. “Right now?”
“Jah. Right now. Go on. And you can take that loaf of nut bread with you.”
“All right.” Beulah’s annoyance turned to relief. A visit to Amy might ease the rawness eating into her stomach. She picked up the nut bread on the counter and wrapped it in a fresh dish towel. “Thanks, Mamm,” she said and meant it. Despite how they often clashed, she appreciated her mother’s concern.
“Go on, then. I’ll expect you when I see you.”
“Thanks,” she repeated and was out the door. She went straight to the barn for the bicycle and put the loaf of bread in the basket.
She was in no hurry to arrive at Amy’s. In fact, she took her time, her mind whirling. What should she tell her sister? Should she tell her what Uriah had said? How he hadn’t come for her at all? How he hadn’t told his folks anything?
Amy would have every reason to gloat, to say, I told you so. But she wouldn’t. Amy was nice. Much nicer than Beulah was, but then, Beulah had always known that. How the two of them could share the same set of parents was beyond her. Amy was so kind, while she…
Beulah blew out her breath. She might as well tell Amy everything. She was going to wonder about it anyway. Beulah was a bit annoyed with herself—she shouldn’t have told Amy in the first place, then she’d have nothing to tell her today. She could have kept mum about the whole mess.
And then, it would be like it never happened at all. But it did. It did happen.
Beulah gripped the handlebars more tightly. It was too late now, anyway. Too late to go backward in time. It had happened. All of it.
The Buggy Shop (Hollybrook Amish Romance) Page 6