And then she saw Peter staring at her. It was like a blow to her chest. Peter. How in the world had she not given one thought to the boy who was courting her? How in the world had she forgotten completely about him during this nightmare? Shouldn’t she have run to him for comfort? Shouldn’t he have been the person to console her? She hadn’t gone to him, but why hadn’t he come to her?
She blinked at him and tried to read his expression. And then he was walking toward her as she continued to hear the dirt hit the casket, like rocks falling from a great height.
“Amy…” he said quietly. “I’ve tried to see you, but you were always at Andrew’s house.” He glanced down at the baby. “Grace’s?”
She nodded numbly.
He took her arm and pulled her gently away from the crowd. “How are you?”
Tears filled her eyes. How did he think she would be? Her best friend was dead. Amy was ready to give him a sharp retort, but she stopped herself just in time. What was the matter with her? None of this was Peter’s fault. But still, couldn’t he have tried harder to see her? Or at least written to her?
Amy was trembling now. She looked down at the baby, wondering if her shaking would wake the child up, but Susie was sleeping contentedly in her arms.
Peter gazed down. “Her name is Susie, right? I heard folks talking.”
“Jah, Susie,” Amy said softly.
Peter shuffled his foot across the grass. “I, well, can I see you later?”
She looked up at him and for a quick moment, it was like she was looking at a complete stranger. Nothing about him looked familiar. Not his brown eyes. Not the way his hair was so straight, it actually spiked over his ears. Not his intent expression. She stared at him, wondering what was the matter with her.
“Well?”
She blinked and shook her head. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m taking care of Susie.” She sucked in a long breath. “Beulah and I are staying at Andrew’s. You know, for the boppli.”
“Then can’t Beulah watch her for a while?”
Amy gaped at him, and anger surged through her. Foist Susie off on Beulah? Peter knew what Beulah was like. How dare he suggest such a thing. She wanted to push him. Or shove him. Her breath caught. Why was she so angry? He was only wanting to see her. After all, they were courting.
“Can’t she?” he asked.
Amy shook her head and spoke quietly, urgently. “Nee. Of course, she can’t. I have to watch Susie. I have to. Andrew is exhausted. He can hardly function. My place is there with Susie. Grace would want me to be there.” The words poured out of her mouth. She watched as his expression changed from hope to dismay.
“But Amy, can’t I see you at all?”
She wanted to grab him and shake him. “My best friend is over there, lying in the dirt,” she nearly hissed, gesturing with her head. “I am not concerned about us right now. I have other things to think about.”
Peter’s mouth dropped open, and Amy whirled away from him before he could say another word. She marched back to the crowd, slipping inside the group. She was breathing rapidly, as if she’d run for miles. She blinked back her tears, but the shaking didn’t stop. She felt the folks to her left looking at her, but she kept her eyes straight ahead. Was it the Lapps gaping at her? Her vision blurred with her tears. She needed to get out of there. Weren’t they finished yet? Wasn’t it time to go back to Andrew’s?
And then the crowd began to disburse. She breathed a sigh of relief and stood still, letting the people filter away from her. She saw Andrew looking about, as if he were lost, but then his gaze settled on her. Of course—he’d want to know where Susie was. The same time he started toward her, she saw her father join him. They both met her.
“You ready to go back?” Thomas asked.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“Come,” he said. He put one arm around her and one arm around Andrew, and they walked back to the wagon that had carried the casket. Thomas cleared his throat. “How about we ride back in our buggy instead,” he asked.
“There ain’t room, Dat,” Amy muttered.
“Jah. Of course not. All right. Let’s all go in the wagon.”
Andrew stood still and watched Amy get in. Then he jumped up and sat beside her on the bench against the side of the wagon bed. He held out his arms, and she placed Susie there.
Immediately, the child began to cry. Andrew looked horrified.
“She’s likely hungry,” Amy said quickly. “I have a bottle prepared back at the kitchen.”
He nodded and tried to make Susie more comfortable, but once she’d started crying, she didn’t seem of a mind to quit. Finally, he handed her back to Amy. Amy bounced her gently in her arms, bringing her to her shoulder. Susie’s cries lessened somewhat, but she continued to fuss.
“I don’t know a thing about bopplis,” Andrew said, his voice catching.
“You’ll learn,” Thomas told him. “Don’t fret.”
The ride back to Andrew’s house was slow. The road was choked with buggies returning right along with them. By the time they pulled into Andrew’s yard, Susie had had enough. She was outright wailing by then. It wasn’t common to hear an Amish baby wail for long. Most of them were nursed, so they were never far from the comfort of their mother’s milk. But poor little Susie didn’t have that advantage.
As soon as the horse came to a stop, Amy scurried out of the wagon and headed straight for the kitchen. Within minutes, she had the bottle warmed and Susie was feeding, quiet and happy again.
Beulah and Fiona, along with a handful of other women, were busy making sure everyone was served. The house was full of talking and laughter now, everyone enjoying the time to be together. The front room was clogged with people eating. It was as if the casket had never been there at all.
Beulah paused for a minute in front of Amy who was feeding Susie in the kitchen rocker. “How was it? The graveside?”
“Sad,” Amy said bluntly.
“Well, it’s over now and that’s gut,” Beulah said, rushing off to make another pot of coffee.
Over now? Amy stared at her sister. Over now? How could Beulah say such a thing? It was far from over. It would never be over. She lowered her head and kissed Susie’s forehead, and her thoughts went back to Peter. She saw again the shock on his face right before she’d left him standing there, no doubt staring at her back.
She’d been rude. She let out her breath and closed her eyes. If she wanted Peter to declare himself, she was going to have to be a lot nicer than that. She was ashamed of herself. But she’d just been so … so angry. Angry enough to slap him. It made no sense. He hadn’t done a thing to her, not really. And she wasn’t used to such harsh feelings. But her anger had been so strong—almost vicious.
In her mind, she flipped through the Bible, seeing all the verses that talked about anger. She hoped nobody else had heard her. But Peter had, and wasn’t that bad enough? She hoped he’d come to the house for the meal. She could talk to him then. Apologize. And she could speak to Beulah about watching Susie. She cringed. The thing was, she didn’t want Beulah to watch Susie—Amy didn’t trust her completely.
If Uriah came along, Amy could just see Beulah rushing off and leaving Susie to fend for herself. Ach, but that was ridiculous. Beulah wouldn’t do that. Would she? But how could Amy put Peter off? And Amy might be at Andrew’s for quite some time. At least, until Grace’s parents came back from Pennsylvania. She imagined that Grace’s mother would stay at Andrew’s then, watching over Susie.
In truth, that was how it should be.
Amy tightened her grip on Susie. How was she going to feel when Grace’s parents showed up? That could be a while yet, though, couldn’t it? If Grace’s mother was waiting for her own father to pass, why, that might take quite a while. Still, how long would Grace’s mother wait before coming back to see Susie?
What a mess, Amy thought. What a sad, sad mess.
She craned her neck a bit, trying to see beyond the kitchen
door, looking for Peter. She could barely see through the throngs of people milling about, but there was no sign of her beau. No sign at all.
Chapter Ten
Peter climbed into his family’s buggy. “Take me home, would you, Dat?”
His father gave him a quizzical look. “What? Aren’t you going to the meal?”
“I’m not feeling so gut. Just drop me off and the rest of you can go.”
“What is it, son?” his mother questioned.
“Nothing serious, I’m sure,” he said. “Just drop me home. I’ll be fine.”
His parents exchanged a look before Peter’s dad nodded. “All right. But we are going to go on, if that’s all right.”
“Jah. I want you to.” Peter felt a bit foolish, but he was in no mood to go to the funeral meal and visit and laugh and get caught up with everyone’s news. He needed time to think. What in the world had happened back there at the graveside with Amy? What was the matter with her? She was grieving, of course. He got that. But why in the world was she so angry with him? It made no sense.
He was already frustrated. He’d tried three times to see her after Grace died. Two times, she was gone, and the other time, her mother had told him that she was fast asleep. He’d hoped Fiona might awaken her, but she didn’t offer, so he’d gone on back home. Maybe he should have written Amy. Yes, he should have. That way she would have known for sure that he was thinking of her. He scowled at himself. Why hadn’t he thought of it? He’d written her about riding in his buggy plenty of times.
Was that why she was angry? Because he hadn’t made more of an effort to see her?
His dad pulled into their drive, and Peter got out, waving them off. Then he headed into the house. It was a rare occasion when he had the house all to himself. Now, the emptiness mocked him. He’d made a mistake with Amy. He couldn’t get her vicious expression out of his head. It was almost like she was daring him to argue with her. And the way she’d held onto that baby. Why, it was as if the child was hers, and she didn’t want anyone else to touch it.
Was this normal? He knew she’d had a special friendship with Grace. But still… It seemed strange to him. And now she was going to stay at Andrew’s? Stay? That couldn’t be good. Not for his own relationship with her. Wait. What was he thinking?
And hadn’t Amy said that Beulah would be there, too?
Beulah. He couldn’t imagine that girl being much help. He’d gotten the distinct impression from Amy, more than once, that Beulah was mainly concerned with Beulah. He walked through the empty rooms of the house, feeling like a lost puppy. Maybe he should have gone to the funeral meal. Should have insisted on speaking with Amy again. Concentrated on clearing things up with her.
Now, he’d have to go to Andrew’s to see her, and he couldn’t very well march right up to the door and demand her company. He rolled his eyes. He was in a fix, for sure and for certain. He should have asked Amy to marry him months ago. That was what he should have done.
But what could he offer her? And was his dad ever going to bequeath some land to him? And what if he never did? What was Peter going to do? Keep waiting and waiting and waiting?
Amy was a lovely girl. And kind … usually. She wasn’t going to wait around for him forever.
He walked to the bureau in the front room and opened the top drawer, taking out a sheet of paper. He’d write her now and not waste another minute. He went to the kitchen and sat at the table.
Dear Amy,
I’m so sorry about Grace’s passing. You must miss her a lot. It’s nice of you to care for the boppli. I know you’re being a huge help.
Peter did wonder where in the world Grace’s parents were. Shouldn’t they be already there or at least on their way back? Perhaps they were. Since he hadn’t spoken to Andrew, he didn’t really know. Maybe Amy’s stay at Andrew’s would be short-lived. He hoped so. It bothered him—her being over there. It shouldn’t, because he knew Andrew needed the help. But why Amy? He shook his head. He knew why, but he still didn’t like it. Andrew could have easily gotten help from someone else.
Are Grace’s parents on their way? I imagine they will help with the boppli as soon as they arrive. I feel bad about not at least writing you earlier, Amy. But please know that you’ve been on my mind. As I told you, I did try to see you—it just never worked out. I thought that maybe I could stop by some afternoon this week. Check on Andrew, you know. And maybe see you.
I miss you, Amy. I hope you miss me.
Your loving,
Peter
He reread what he’d written. He thought it was a good letter. Hopefully, it would smooth things over some. And Amy should be feeling better now that the funeral was over. Life went on.
He got an envelope and addressed it to Amy at Andrew’s address. Even better if he got it into the mailbox right away, so she’d have it as soon as possible. He could ride his bicycle over to Andrew’s and stick it in the mailbox, so he wouldn’t have to wait for mail delivery. But if he did that, he’d likely pass all sorts of folks in their buggies coming and going from Andrew’s house. Did he really want to encounter them all?
No. He settled on putting a stamp on the envelope and taking it out to their mailbox. He raised the red flag and glanced around, feeling the heat of the day. There was a stillness in the air. He didn’t even hear any birds chirping. But at least, it wasn’t raining. A burial service in the rain was miserable. He thought of Grace. He’d liked her, too. She was always smiling, always friendly.
Such a shame, he thought. But then, Gott knows best. Gott always knows best.
* * *
Amy lay in the double bed next to Beulah. She could tell by Beulah’s even breathing that she was asleep. Amy was far from asleep. She couldn’t relax. In truth, she felt stiff and uncomfortable, and her ears were on the alert for any sound coming from the nursery. She’d thought to sleep in there, but Andrew had shown her and Beulah to the bedroom right next to the nursery.
“You both can sleep in here,” he’s said, his voice weary. “Will it suit?”
And Amy hadn’t the heart to say anything otherwise. She had half a notion now to sneak into the baby’s room and leave Beulah by herself, but she wasn’t sure if she should. She did know that Andrew probably wouldn’t be awakened by Susie. He was so tired, he could hardly function as it was. She needed to hear even the slightest sound and get in there before Andrew heard anything.
She chewed her bottom lip, and then, making a sudden decision, she slipped out of bed and went to the nursery. She crept inside and leaned over the cradle and listened to Susie’s breathing, so soft and so rapid. Such a sweet baby. Amy’s eyes teared up; she already loved her as her own. She patted Susie’s tummy and then tiptoed to the single bed next to the cradle and sat down. She stayed like that for some minutes, until her eyes grew heavy. She’d stay just a bit longer. She lay down on the bed and snuggled into the pillow. Just a bit longer…
Chapter Eleven
“W-what?” the sleepy voice said.
Amy shot up, nearly falling over when her feet hit the ground. “Ach! Andrew!”
He backed away. “I didn’t know you were in here. I didn’t hear anything.”
“I’m sorry. I must have fallen asleep.”
Even though it was fairly dark with only the moonlight coming in the window, he shielded his eyes as if standing in the blazing sun. Amy was suddenly aware that she was standing there in her nightgown. She pulled the quilt off the end of the bed and quickly wrapped herself in it.
“I didn’t know you were in here,” Andrew repeated. “I’ll leave.”
Amy shook her head and whispered, “No need. I’ll leave.”
Just then, Susie woke up and started to fuss. Amy rushed to her, leaning over the crib. The quilt slipped from her shoulders and fell to the floor. She picked up the baby, noting how wet she was. She had leaked right through to her gown. Amy turned and saw that Andrew had left the room.
She put Susie on the changing table as her cries grew in v
olume.
“I know, I know,” Amy said gently. “You’re hungry. I have a bottle ready for you. But you’re soaked, and I’m not going to feed you like this.”
She continued talking to Susie, even though Susie clearly didn’t care a fig about listening. She was hungry and she wasn’t being fed. Her cries increased. Amy worked quickly and got the diaper and gown changed. Then she cuddled Susie to her shoulder and made her way downstairs. It was a good thing Amy knew the house so well. But, in truth, there was enough light to see her way down the steps easily. However, when the moon wasn’t full, she was going to have to keep a lantern handy for night feedings.
She went into the kitchen and warmed the bottle. By then, Susie was so frantic, it took her a moment to even be able to drink. But once she did, she settled right into Amy’s arms, sucking contentedly.
Amy relaxed. She needed to get faster at this. Of course, if Susie hadn’t been so soaked through, she could have waited to change her. Amy noted that Beulah hadn’t stirred. Not even checking to see if Amy needed help. It wasn’t really a surprise, and in truth, Amy didn’t mind. She was perfectly fine with caring for Susie all by herself.
Was Andrew still awake? Had he listened to Susie’s continued cries? How embarrassing to be standing right in front of him in her nighty. Well, it couldn’t be helped. Amy giggled, then pressed her lips together. Andrew would likely never go into the nursery again during the night. It wasn’t funny. Her mother would scold her, saying how inappropriate it all was. Amy giggled again. Of course, it was inappropriate, but it was still a bit funny.
* * *
Amy got Peter’s letter the next day. She knew immediately it was from him, although he didn’t put a return address on it. She recognized his handwriting. And really, who else would be writing her there? She had to wait a good two hours before opening it, as she wanted to do it in private and there were so many things going on that afternoon.
Caring For Susie (Amy's Story Book 1) Page 6