Beulah rolled her eyes. “This ain’t public, Mamm. And give me some credit. I’m not likely to go shouting that out on the day of Grace’s funeral.”
Amy bit her lip. She couldn’t stand this kind of talk. Couldn’t stand listening to Beulah rile her mother. It happened all too frequently, and this day, she simply didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with it.
“I’m going now,” she said, moving to the wash room and the side door. “I’ll take the pony cart, Mamm.”
Fiona agreed. “Jah. We’ll bring the buggy. One of your brothers will drive the cart back tonight.”
Amy opened the side door and went outside. The warm summer air welcomed her, and she paused a moment to gather herself together. She breathed in deeply and listened to the birds chatter from a nearby tree. Likely, she needed to refill the bird-feeders around the farm, but that would have to wait.
Beulah joined her. “Well, are we going or not?”
“Jah, we’re going. Come on. You can help me hitch up Trotter.”
“Fine.”
Amy saw that Beulah had an envelope in her hand. “What’s that?”
Beulah frowned. “An envelope. What does it look like?”
“I meant, who is the letter to?”
Beulah’s brow raised. “No one. But I’m going to stick it in the mailbox right now. You start hitching up Trotter.”
Amy watched Beulah run off toward the main road. The letter was to Uriah Umble for certain. In truth, Amy hadn’t needed to ask. She blew out her breath. Uriah would break her sister’s heart—Amy knew it as sure as she was standing there. But Beulah wasn’t going to listen to anything she said about it. Perhaps, being at Andrew’s and helping with the new little baby would distract Beulah.
And then the truth of it shot straight through Amy’s mind. She knew exactly what was in that letter. Her sister was telling Uriah where she’d be. And that was why Beulah was so willing to go with her and stay at Andrew’s. She thought that by being away from Mamm’s watchful eye, she’d be able to spend even more time with Uriah. Amy sucked in her breath.
Was she now going to have to babysit her sister, too? Amy already knew how that would work out.
Beulah came flying back up the drive. “What’s the matter with you, sister? You haven’t even begun hitching up the cart.”
Amy shook herself from her reverie. “Sorry. I was thinking…”
“Thinking?” Beulah laughed. “Well, can’t you think and hitch up a pony at the same time?”
Amy shrugged. “S’pose so.”
Together, they got Trotter hitched quickly and were on their way. Amy forgot about Beulah and her love life. All she could think about right then was what the day held. A funeral. For Grace. Grace. How could it be?
How?
Chapter Eight
Andrew paced the kitchen with Susie screaming in his arms. He’d fed her. He’d changed her. He’d tried to rock her. Nothing would appease the child.
He kept glancing out the window. Wouldn’t Amy be there soon?
Amy, Amy, please hurry and come, please.
He was ready to wail right along with Susie. He had to be doing something wrong. But for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what. And who would guess that a tiny thing like Susie could cry loud enough to dismantle a grown man. But there he was. Susie’s face was red and screwed up, and he’d never seen anything so pathetic in his life.
Amy, Amy, where are you?
He kept pacing, not knowing what else to do. Should he try to put her in her cradle? Maybe that would settle her down. He climbed the stairs, feeling like an old man. No. An ancient man. His legs were so heavy. And his ears were ringing. He felt the beginning of a headache.
And downstairs in his front room, was the body of his wife.
He nearly choked on a sob before angrily scolding himself. Enough. He’d cried and carried on enough. He was a man, not a child. And he had to trust in God.
He went into Susie’s nursery and laid her gently in the cradle. The minute she hit the sheets, she wailed with even more fervor.
“How can you keep this up?” he asked her. “Aren’t you exhausted by now?”
He stroked her cheek, but she wouldn’t have it. She twisted and kept crying. He pulled up her gown and stuck his finger in the diaper, trying to tell if she needed changing again. It didn’t seem wet, but then he had changed her not a half an hour before.
“Andrew?”
He jumped and turned toward the door. “Amy,” he said, gratitude filling him. “You’re here.”
Amy walked into the room and gazed down at Susie. “Goodness, but you’re not too happy this morning, are you?” She picked the child up, brought her to her shoulder, and patted her back.
Instantly, Susie stopped wailing. Her cries faded into hiccups and gulps of air.
“There, there,” Amy crooned. “Now, let’s get you settled right down. I imagine you’re plumb tuckered out by now.”
Andrew stared at his daughter. “She ain’t the only one.”
Amy smiled with sympathy. “Look. The funeral won’t start for an hour or so. Why don’t you go lie down for a bit? I’ll greet anyone who comes early.”
Andrew blinked back the sudden tears that came to his eyes. Lie down? He couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful right then.
“But I need to be down there…”
“Jah. But not yet. Go on. Lie down for twenty minutes at least. If you’re not down within the hour, I’ll send Dat up to wake you.”
Andrew’s throat tightened. “All right,” he agreed. “All right.”
He nearly stumbled out of the room and into his own bedroom. He paused for a minute, staring at his double bed. Staring at the side where Grace used to sleep. Her pillow was askew, just like it always was after she got up. He walked to that side of the bed and touched the cool pillow case.
“Grace,” he whispered. “Ach, Grace.”
And then he fell onto the bed—on her side. He burrowed his face into her pillow, smelling her sweet scent. Within seconds, he was asleep.
* * *
Amy watched Andrew leave the room. It looked like he was barely able to walk. She could only guess how the night before had gone. She snuggled Susie closer, sure now that the child had fallen asleep. She still hiccuped, but it was quieter now.
“Poor thing,” Amy said softly. “You get some rest. Don’t you fret. We’re going to get things worked out right fine. You wait and see.”
Amy sank into the rocking chair, loathe to put the baby into her cradle. She rocked gently back and forth, hearing Susie’s breath even out more and more. Goodness, but babies breathed rapidly—even in sleep. She listened for noises downstairs, wondering what Beulah was up to. Amy hoped she was redding up the kitchen. It looked a mess when they’d both walked in a few minutes before.
She listened more carefully and heard dishes clanking. Good. Beulah was cleaning up. Perhaps, Amy had been a bit harsh with her assumptions. Perhaps Beulah really was there to help and support Andrew and Susie. Amy felt a moment of shame. She had no right to be so judgmental of her sister. No right at all.
Amy closed her eyes and hummed softly. She had always imagined that she’d help Grace with her new baby. But she’d never, never, never imagined it would be under these circumstances.
“I’ll do my best,” she whispered into the air, looking up toward the ceiling. “Grace, I’ll do my best to make sure that Susie is well cared for. And Andrew will be all right. I’m sure of it. He’ll be all right with time. And he’ll be a good dat. Don’t you worry.”
Amy blanched. Did someone in heaven worry? She hardly thought so. Worry was surely something only living people did. She tightened her grip on Susie.
“I won’t worry about you,” she told the baby. “I won’t. Because everything is going to be all right.”
Perhaps, if she repeated it enough, she would fully believe it. In truth, right then, she was deeply disturbed, and perhaps even angry, with God for taking Grace home.
Why couldn’t He have waited until Susie was grown up? Why deprive both mother and daughter?
Again, shame filled Amy’s heart. Who was she to question God? She shook her head in dismay. She needed to get a grip on herself.
She heard the front door open below. Were people already arriving? She got up and left the room, moving toward the stairs. Voices. It was her family. They’d arrived first. Good. She knew that her father and Andrew had a special bond—perhaps because Andrew’s father had died so long ago. What was it now? Five years?
Andrew was no stranger to grief, but how sad that he would now have to bury his own wife.
Stop, she told herself. She straightened her back and went downstairs.
“There you are,” Fiona said. “And there’s little Susie.” She came right over and peered into the child’s face.
“She finally went to sleep,” Amy said quietly. “I don’t want to disturb her.”
“Of course, you don’t,” Fiona agreed. “I can fuss with her later.”
“Mamm, want to help me in the kitchen?” Beulah asked. “There’s food everywhere and it’s a mess.”
“Of course. More food will come today, I imagine.”
“Where’s Andrew?” Thomas asked.
“I sent him to lie down for a few minutes…”
“How is he?”
Amy looked at her dad and shook her head. “Not gut. He’s exhausted. I think Susie kept him up all night.”
“I didn’t like him being alone with her last night, but that was what he wanted.”
“I know. But Beulah and I are here now. He can sleep tonight.”
Dad glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the front room. Then, his eyes rested on the casket for a moment before he said, “I’ll wake him when the others start coming. I expect the bishop will be here right soon.”
“I expect so.”
Amy left her father and walked further into the front room, right over to the casket. It wasn’t open yet, and she was glad. She didn’t want to look at her friend’s lifeless face. She’d seen her enough yesterday. But it wasn’t up to Amy, was it?
Soon, the house would be full to bursting. Funerals weren’t just sad occasions for her people—they were also a time to be together, to get caught up on all the news. Many actually looked forward to the event. And Amy had always been the same. Sad, of course, for she would miss whomever had passed, but glad to be together. There was always laughter and the children, after the actual service, would run and play and have a lovely time.
But today? Today was different. This was Grace’s funeral. And Grace should still be alive. Amy blinked back her tears. She simply couldn’t think that way. It was wrong. God knew what he was doing. She had to believe that. Otherwise, everything would fall apart.
Susie wiggled in her arms and made a soft sucking noise. Was she hungry? Perhaps, but Amy would wait until she started fussing. She wasn’t about to wake her up right then. Not after the crying spell she just had. Poor little thing.
She heard more than one buggy pulling up outside. The yard would soon be full of buggies and pony carts. She braced herself. Andrew and Susie were going to need all the help she could give today.
“Amy?” Beulah poked her head into the room. “It’s started. Folks are here.”
Amy nodded. “Thank you.”
She saw her father go to stand by the front door. Evidently, he wasn’t going to wake Andrew up quite yet. And then she heard someone on the stairs. She walked out of the room and looked up the staircase. Andrew was coming down, walking slowly, taking each step as if he were afraid his legs wouldn’t support him.
“Andrew,” she said. “Did you get any rest at all?”
“Some. I can rest tonight,” he said. His eyes were dark and shadowed. The red rims clearly showed that he’d been crying. Her heart went out to him.
“Do you want to hold Susie as the people come? She’s well asleep right now.”
Andrew came down the last step. He gazed at Susie with a look of dread.
“Truly,” Amy reassured him, “she’s asleep. But if you’d rather not, that’s fine. I’m glad to hold her.”
Andrew licked his lips and then eased Susie from Amy’s shoulder. “You’ll stay close?” he asked.
“I’ll be right here.”
“All right.”
People were coming in the door now, and Thomas was greeting them. Andrew went to stand beside Thomas. Amy watched him. He was smiling now, greeting everyone. He looked brave standing there. Brave and broken-hearted. Amy fought her tears, and a feeling unlike anything she’d ever known surged in her chest. What was it? Grief… Pride in Andrew’s courage… Admiration… A yearning to take Andrew’s burden from him…?
She didn’t know. All she knew was that she needed to stand up straight, put a pleasant expression on her face, and be close—ready to take Susie at a moment’s notice.
Chapter Nine
Amy’s cheeks hurt from smiling and greeting everyone. The house was packed full of people now. The children, temporarily subdued, all sat against the wall. Bishop had arrived some time ago and was about to begin the service. Andrew looked ready to fall over from exhaustion, but he maintained his smile, though it was somewhat wobbly by then. Amy went to him and took Susie, who had started to fuss. By now, she’d be hungry, for sure and for certain.
Amy squeezed her way through to the kitchen. Fiona was in there, still organizing all the food.
“They’re ready to start, ain’t so?” she asked Amy.
“Jah. I’m just getting a bottle for Susie.”
Fiona peeked at the child. “So sweet. Do you want me to feed her? I know you want to hear both sermons.”
“Nee. I’m fine. I’ll stand at the back to feed her.”
“I hope you can find a spot to squeeze in. Land’s sake, I’ve never seen such a turn-out.”
“I’ll be fine, Mamm. You go on in.”
But going on in wasn’t going to happen. The crowd had shifted so that neither Fiona nor Amy would be able to get any closer. But it didn’t matter, the bishop’s voice carried well within the walls of the house. Amy got the bottle ready without too much crying from Susie. And when she teased Susie’s mouth with the nipple, the child latched right on, sucking hungrily. Amy leaned up against the kitchen counter, her eyes only on the child.
She could hear the sermon, hear the words admonishing all sinners to turn to God. She prayed silently, asking God to find favor in her life, so that she could go to heaven after death and see Grace again—for she was sure Grace was there.
Susie sputtered and milk dribbled down her chin. Amy wiped it with the corner of the blanket and then put the baby to her shoulder to burp her. As soon as she did burp, she fed her a bit more until Susie fell back asleep.
“You’re sleeping through your mother’s funeral,” Amy whispered to her and then cradled her close.
One of the women in the district had been sitting on the rocking chair in the kitchen. She got up and gestured Amy to sit there with the baby. Amy gave her a grateful smile and sank into the chair. Between both sermons, the service was likely to last near three hours. Standing up and holding the baby would be difficult for that amount of time.
In actuality, the service only lasted two and a half hours. The people were filing by the open casket now and many were getting into their buggies to follow the casket to the cemetery. Amy wondered who had dug Grace’s grave. She knew some of the district men would have done it, but she didn’t know which ones. Not that it mattered, she supposed.
When many of the people had cleared the front room, she stood up and made her way forward. Susie was still asleep, thank goodness. The simple pine box was open, and Amy looked at dear Grace for the last time. It was odd to see her so motionless, almost rubbery looking. Sometimes, people looked quite peaceful in death, but Grace looked… Amy worked to keep from frowning. Grace looked blank. Not peaceful. Amy could see what looked to be a large bruise on the side of her forehead. Some kind
of make-up had been applied to it, but Amy knew every inch of Grace’s face, and she saw it. Funny, but she hadn’t seen that during the viewing. But then, her eyes had been full of tears.
She was dry-eyed now. In fact, her eyes burned with dryness.
“Gut-bye, Grace,” she whispered. “Thank you for being my dearest friend.”
She lifted Susie over the side of the casket, and for a quick moment, she half-laid Susie on Grace’s chest. Then just as quickly, she hugged her back to her own chest.
“Gut-bye,” she said again.
Andrew stepped up from behind her and stood with her. She heard his intake of breath and felt him tremble. And then he turned away. The bishop and deacons lowered the lid.
“Are you ready?” the bishop asked, and Andrew nodded.
The casket bearers stepped forward. Andrew stepped forward also, taking his position at the top right of the casket. Amy stepped back and watched Grace be moved out of the house and into the back of the waiting wagon. And then she followed.
Her father was one of the casket bearers, and he got in the wagon with the others. Amy and Susie got into her family’s buggy with Beulah and her other sisters and her two brothers. It was a tight fit, and everyone was silent as they followed the casket down the road. Her mother had stayed behind to begin feeding those who weren’t going to the gravesite. Amy half wished she’d stayed back with her mother, but it didn’t seem right that Susie wouldn’t be there at the burial.
When they arrived at the cemetery, the people all climbed out of their buggies and moved toward the open grave as if synchronized. They stood around the gaping hole and watched as the casket was lowered. Andrew stood watching, a look of total defeat on his face. Amy’s heart surged toward him, and she wished she stood by his side, so that he could draw strength from Susie’s presence. But it was too late now—she couldn’t make her way through the crowd. When the first shovelful of dirt hit the casket, Amy flinched and took a step back, almost trampling the person behind her. She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t watch this anymore. Or hear this anymore. She backed further away until she was at the very edge of the group.
Caring For Susie (Amy's Story Book 1) Page 5