by Naomi King
“Our uncle’s cheese factory is doing such a gut business, they’re looking for more local milk,” he said as he stood up to gaze over the lower hayfields. “Wyman, I was wondering if I could rent some of your pastureland to expand my dairy herd—next spring, probably, when the grass would be growing to feed the extra cows. I’d maintain the fences, of course, and pay whatever you think’s fair.”
Wyman’s eyebrows rose at this unexpected question. “That’s not really such a stretch, since we already sell you a lot of the hay we raise,” he replied in a thoughtful voice. “The feed would go directly into your cows without us having to bale it.”
“Jah, I was hoping you’d see it that way,” Trevor said.
Now there’s an interesting turn of events, Amanda thought. As far as she knew, Wyman’s land had never been used by anyone except Brubakers. The farm had provided for previous generations, but Wyman had diversified into the grain trade because the acreage couldn’t support another growing family. As the men rose to resume work on the house, Amanda helped Sally pack up their dishes.
“We’re guessing Trevor has his eye on a certain young lady,” Sally murmured. “He’s taking his instruction to join the church, and he’s suddenly a lot more interested in earning a gut living.”
“It usually takes the right girl to convince a young man to get out of rumspringa and into adulthood,” Amanda agreed.
Sally focused on Eddie and Pete, who were shoveling debris into wheelbarrows. “You know, I just made Tyler and Trevor longer pants and the ones they’ve outgrown would be about right for your boys. How about if I bring you a box of trousers and shirts? Too bad I don’t have any girls—”
“Ach, but you folks have helped us so much already.” Amanda grasped Sally’s arm, overcome by this quiet woman’s generosity. “You have no idea how much your kindness means to us.”
Sally’s face lit up. “If you need anything at all, just ask us, promise? We’ve been put on this Earth to love one another, after all.”
That summed up the very basis of the Plain faith, didn’t it? As Amanda waved at Sally’s departing buggy, she believed the difficult task of rebuilding the Brubaker house might go better than they’d expected, even if the Fishers’ friendship wouldn’t ease the situation with Uriah. While she knew it was wrong to dodge the bishop’s request for her kneeling confession, she saw their temporary living arrangement in Bloomingdale as a postponement of her moment of truth—not a way to escape it. Disagreeing with the bishop did not mean she could ignore his ruling, for God had chosen him to lead Clearwater’s congregation.
But look how many solutions have come to us in just a day of trusting the Lord, she reasoned. Surely more answers will reveal themselves during our stay in Bloomingdale . . . while we solidify as a family.
That afternoon Amanda, Vera, and Lizzie were working in the unharmed end of the upstairs, packing the younger children’s clothes, when the clip-clop! clip-clop! of hooves announced another visitor.
“My stars, when you said the storm hit—” a familiar voice called out.
“Glad you called us, Wyman. Is this a gut time to talk about moving you folks back to Amanda’s place?”
Lizzie’s face lit up. “It’s Abby and James! Let’s take a break and visit with them.”
“You girls go on down. I’ll be there in a bit.” Amanda smiled at the rapid patter of their footsteps on the wooden stairs. It pleased her that Wyman had called upon so many friends, rather than believing their family could deal with this disaster alone. She could recall a time when he had remained stoic and self-reliant, as though he believed God was dishing up trouble as punishment for his sins.
Amanda peered into the room she and Wyman shared, where Jemima had been packing for them. “Seems more helpers have stopped by. Sure wish we could offer them more than water from the pump.”
Jemima looked up from the suitcase she was closing. “We all take our turn at depending on the kindness of others,” she mused aloud. “But I can’t say I’m sorry to be going back to the home place. Beats all that folks from far and wide are lending you and Wyman a hand, when members of the Clearwater church—”
“Jah, I’ve noticed that, too. Just one more thing we have to figure out as we put our household together again.” Amanda gestured for her mother-in-law to precede her down the stairs. “I’m hearing a tone in Wyman’s voice I’ve not noticed before. Maybe he’s considering bigger changes than he wants to talk about in front of the kids—but it’s for him to decide what comes next. You and I can just keep praying he’ll do the right thing for all of us.”
When Amanda and Jemima made their way around to the front yard, Abby ran over to hug them. “What a horrible mess to come home to,” she gushed. “I’ll get the gals in Cedar Creek together for a sewing frolic this weekend to replace the clothes you lost. And what about food? Did you lose any canned goods or the meat in your deep freeze?”
“The jars downstairs are untouched, and we’ve kept the freezer shut since the gas got turned off,” Amanda replied. “We lost all the staples in the kitchen, as you can see, but otherwise—”
“Well, it’s mighty handy that my brother runs a mercantile, ain’t so?” Abby placed her hands lightly on Amanda’s shoulders. “Sam says he wants to help any way he can, so consider your kitchen in Bloomingdale restocked. How about if James and I pack up your frozen foods and get them into a deep freeze at the store until you get shifted? We brought along several knocked-down boxes.”
Amanda’s mouth opened and then closed as she took in what Abby was saying. “You’re a miracle on two legs, walking amongst whoever needs you,” she murmured. “Bless you ever so much, Abby.”
Within an hour, the deep freeze was emptied and the boxes of meat and frozen vegetables were loaded into James’s wagon. Abby had jotted down Lizzie’s and Vera’s measurements for new dresses, too. Because they were only moving their clothing, some food, and a few other personal necessities, Wyman told the newly engaged couple to stay in Cedar Creek rather than coming to Clearwater for the Saturday morning move. “What with the Millers helping us, we’ve got plenty of muscle and rigs to get us into Amanda’s place,” he said. “It’s such a help that you’re keeping our frozen food, and we’ll stop by for those boxes on our way through town.”
James had another idea, however, as he climbed up into the driver’s seat. “Don’t know if you folks have carpenters in mind, but I could ask Amos and Owen Coblentz to give you a bid,” he offered. “What with the way the fellows in Cedar Creek helped them rebuild the Ropps’ house after their fire, we can have you folks back in your house pretty fast.”
Wyman let out a long sigh as he considered this. He was looking tired after a day of physical labor, but his expression bespoke his good spirits, despite the work and decisions that would fill the coming days. “I’ll think on that,” he replied. “I’ve promised God to take this process one day—one step—at a time, so I don’t miss out on anything the Lord wants me to consider. Can’t thank you and Abby and your families enough, James. See you tomorrow when we come through Cedar Creek.”
Yet another interesting twist, Amanda thought as she waved them off. While a couple of cabinetmakers lived in Clearwater, she was surprised that Wyman hadn’t jumped at the offer to have the Coblentz fellows stop by—Amos and his son Owen were well respected for their craftsmanship and the homes they had built all over this part of Missouri.
However, if their friends from Cedar Creek were already seeing to the clothes the kids needed, plus the kitchen staples they had lost, while the Fishers would keep helping with the cleanup after the move, hadn’t this day brought more blessings than anyone could count? The sight of the mail car had the kids dashing out to the box, and after Amanda visited with the carrier, she crossed the road to check for phone messages in the elevator office. No doubt word had gotten around about the damage to their house, and other folks might be trying to contact Wyman
.
When she pushed the blinking red button, Amanda had to smile. ATLEE LAMBRIGHT showed in the message window, as she hadn’t changed the directory listing after her husband passed. It was Jerome’s voice that filled the little office.
“Awful sorry to hear about those trees landing on your house, Wyman, but I’m glad you called to say you folks’ll be bunking here in Bloomingdale for a while,” he said. “Tell Aunt Amanda I’ll try to have the place cleaned up before you get here. I haven’t changed a thing, so all the spaces for her furniture are just waiting for those pieces to come back home.”
A giggle escaped her. Maybe she should erase Jerome’s message so Wyman wouldn’t think her nephew was out of line, implying she should be returning to her first husband’s farm . . . hinting that all of them might stay beyond the time it took to repair the Brubaker place.
But no, Jerome had spoken his mind to Wyman before. Amanda replayed her nephew’s message for the fun of it, and left it for Wyman to hear, as well. Considering all the offers and suggestions they had received since the storm, why should she interfere with anyone who wished to help them? God worked through all of His people, and it seemed there was no limit to the blessings He had delivered today.
Chapter Twenty-eight
What would we do without our friends? Wyman looked at his family and the Fishers on Saturday morning, intermingled at the long table in Ray and Sally’s kitchen. He swallowed his final bite of breakfast and stood up. “Sally, that wonderful-gut sausage and egg casserole will get us off to a fine start today,” he said. “We can’t thank you folks enough for helping us through this difficult time.”
Amanda rose, too, and began scraping plates. “We’ll help you with all these dishes—”
“No, you won’t!” Sally insisted. “You folks have a full day of it, getting shifted to your other place. It was gut having you all here to eat with us.”
Wyman discussed a few plans with Ray and his two sons, who were helping with the move, and then the Brubaker and Fisher rigs headed down the road. Wyman grimaced at the sight of his damaged home place, partly covered by big blue tarps, yet he felt happier than he had in a long while. While his body ached from yesterday’s physical labor, his mind and emotions were adjusting to this temporary change of residence. Amanda had been kind enough not to remind him that she had gone through the same upheaval when she’d moved from her home in Bloomingdale. And Amanda had sensed his moments of desperation when thoughts of his lifelong home, with its gaping holes and destroyed furnishings, threatened to undo him. Rather than telling him how he should feel, or how grateful he should be that they could move to her farm for a while, she had simply wrapped her arms around him.
What would you do without this fine wife? He could not imagine the chaos his family would be experiencing if the storm had struck their home before he had remarried. And indeed, Amanda’s suggestion that she, Jemima, and the girls take the first load of food and clothing, so they could get everyone settled today, made far better sense than his idea of taking the animals first.
When they’d parked the buggies in front of the house, Wyman came out of his deep thoughts to organize their loading efforts. “Pete, how about if you and Tyler take Simon out to the barn with you?”
“We get to gather up the feed and hitch the horses to the wagons, like you said last night, jah?” his youngest son piped up. “Let’s go, guys! Last one out’s a rotten egg!”
“And speaking of eggs.” Jemima smiled at Cora and Dora. “If you twins will take Alice Ann and gather up what the hens have laid, Lizzie and Vera can catch the chickens. It’ll take all day if we set the fellows to that job.”
Wyman laughed. Jemima was in good spirits about moving back to the Lambright place, even if it was only to be their temporary home. “Meanwhile, Eddie, you and Trevor can help Ray and me carry the canned food upstairs, so we’ll be ready to load the first wagon.”
“We’ll get the suitcases and boxes of clothes outside,” Amanda said as she headed toward the back door with her mother-in-law behind her. “Won’t take us long.”
Where would we be without teamwork and cooperation? Wyman thought as he and Ray and their two eldest sons followed the women inside. The men descended the basement stairs and then each of them hefted a box of home-canned vegetables. “Hard to know if we’ll need all these jars we packed,” Wyman said. “Depends on how long it takes to put this place back together.”
“That can’t happen soon enough to suit me,” Eddie remarked as he started up the stairs. “Not much goes on in Bloomingdale, from what I’ve seen.”
Wyman put a foot on the bottom step, hanging back for a moment. “Thanks again for your help, fellows,” he murmured to Ray and Trevor. “That boy of mine’s none too keen about leaving his buddies behind. I’m thinking it’s time for some good old-fashioned attitude adjustment—meaning, so much manual labor rebuilding this place that he’s too tired to care about running with his friends.”
“Jah, there’s that,” Trevor replied. “Comes with being out of school but not yet old enough for rumspringa.”
Wyman nodded at this observation as he studied his partner’s son. Was it his imagination, or had Trevor Fisher filled out over the summer? The young man was all muscle now, with a clear-thinking mind. How had he changed so quickly from the little boy who had loved to tumble down the mountains of shelled field corn piled at the elevator?
“Trevor, I was thinking last night that you might want to start milking those extra cows sooner rather than later,” he began, winking at Ray. “I saw the sale bill for Elmer Riehl’s auction—”
“Jah, he’s fixing to retire,” Trevor cut in eagerly. “Selling off his milking equipment and most of his cows.”
Wyman smiled. This young man was eager to start his adult life, and he admired such ambition. “So why not expand your herd now? Not telling you what to do or how to pay for it, understand,” he continued, “but that barn we’re using for hay storage was a milking parlor in my dat’s day. If you’d care to make the repairs on it, we could shift the hay to other places—”
“You’d let me do that?” Trevor’s eyes nearly filled his face.
“That’s mighty generous of you,” Ray remarked. “Especially since your own boys are coming to an age when they’ll decide how to make their way.”
Wyman’s heart skipped in his chest. This conversation took him back to when he and Ray had first considered going into the elevator business. “For you folks, I would do that,” he replied quietly. “And what with having another farm in the family now, Eddie and Pete have more options—although neither of them seems inclined to take up farming as a first choice.”
It felt good to offer Trevor a chance to make a go of it, especially because land prices had shot up higher than most young fellows could afford. Truth be told, it would save him a lot of cutting and baling if cows grazed that pasture . . . and the looks Ray and his son exchanged confirmed that they were seriously considering his offer.
By the time they’d made a few more trips with the canned goods, Pete was pulling up alongside the house in a wagon hitched to one of the Belgians. They got the clothing and food loaded in short order, leaving room for the girls to ride in the back. With so much good help, Amanda was climbing into the driver’s seat half an hour later, looking serene and capable. Jemima settled on the seat beside her, wrapping an old quilt around their legs.
“Bye, girls. Be gut for your mamm,” Wyman called to his daughters.
Alice Ann waved at him from Vera’s lap, and he couldn’t miss how excited Cora, Dora, and Lizzie looked as they called out their good-byes. They were bundled in their heavier jackets and bonnets, and the crisp autumn air and sunshine made for a perfect day to be on the road.
As the ladies pulled onto the county highway, Wyman couldn’t suppress a grin. “All right, fellows, I haven’t told Amanda but we’re taking her furniture with us,” he announced. �
��What with all of us extra folks living at her place, and Jerome saying the house still has all the right empty spaces, it seems like a gut way to make her happy.”
Eddie and Pete raised their eyebrows at each other, hinting at their disapproval. Or perhaps they didn’t relish reloading old furniture they had no connections to—but to Wyman, it felt like the right move.
Ray clapped him on the back. “Considering how much better off you are these days, my friend, making Amanda happy seems like the reasonable thing to do, jah?”
“Jah, because when Mamma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy,” Simon quipped.
Wyman stared at his youngest son as the other fellows laughed out loud. “I don’t know where you pick these things up, Simon, but that’s a gut thing for you to keep in mind, ain’t so?” he teased. “You and Wags will have to toe the mark at Amanda’s place, or Jerome will harness you up like one of his mules.”
Simon’s round face lit up. “Mules! I’m gonna help Jerome with those awesome mules when we get there! Let’s go now!”
What would we do without this boy’s energy and enthusiasm? Wyman thought as they headed toward the shed where Amanda’s furniture was stored. Simon might well be the one who gets us through these next weeks with our perspective and sense of humor intact.
• • •
As Amanda let the big Belgian set its own road pace, her thoughts buzzed like bees. She had so many things to tend to, because she wanted the children settled in their rooms by the end of the day. With a preaching service to attend tomorrow, and the Sabbath being a day when no work was to be done, it was important for all eleven of them—plus Jerome—to be able to dress and eat breakfast with a minimum of fuss.