Old Mae, the district medicine woman, had come to visit, checking on the baby. And Susie was fussy, although Old Mae thought it completely normal.
“Some little bopplis like to make their presence known more than others,” she had commented with a chuckle.
And then there was the evening meal to see to. And sometime during mid-afternoon, Beulah had run off. So it was after Andrew came in from the fields that Amy finally got a minute. Susie was sleeping, and Andrew was washing up for supper. She told him that she’d have it ready in five minutes and dashed upstairs.
Her mother would likely have scolded her for that, too. Keeping a man waiting for his meal wasn’t done, but Peter’s letter was begging to be read by then, and Amy didn’t want to wait another minute. She went into the bedroom she was sharing with her sister and perched on the edge of the bed. She tore open the envelope and read it through twice.
Her eyes dwelled on the closing. Your loving, Peter it said this time. Not just, Your friend. That was something, wasn’t it? He’d never signed his letters like that before.
Whatever anger she’d felt against Peter the day of Grace’s funeral had long since faded. She didn’t really know why she’d been so angry with him in the first place. Now, she just missed him. They hadn’t had any time together for well over a week. Not really.
So, he might stop by some afternoon. That’d be right nice, although, Andrew would likely be out in the fields. Did she dare invite Peter in if Andrew wasn’t about? Hopefully, Beulah would be around. Amy stopped her pondering and got up and went to the window. She pulled back the white curtains and peered down at the front yard. Where was Beulah? She’d been gone for hours now.
Worry wriggled through her thoughts. Was Beulah out with Uriah? But then, where else would she be? And why hadn’t she at least told Amy she was leaving? As far as Amy could tell, Beulah had slipped away when Old Mae had been over. And should Amy report this to their parents? She shook her head. She didn’t have time to stew over Beulah’s behavior—she had enough on her plate as it was.
She tucked Peter’s letter back into the envelope and placed it in the bedside table’s tiny drawer. Ach, but it was nice to hear from him. Were things all right between them? Amy still hoped he’d ask her to marry him. Would he ever get around to it? Would he ever love her enough to want to spend their lives together?
She drew in a long breath. Another question came to mind. Would she ever be caring for a baby of her own? That was her fondest wish. Well, in truth, it was what most Amish girls dreamed of—a loving husband, a parcel of children, and a home of their own.
Would that ever be true for Amy? Susie let out a cry from the next room, and Amy scurried across the hall.
“Hello, little one. You’re just in time to see your dat. Come on,” she said, lifting the child. “Let’s get you changed and downstairs. Are you hungry for supper, too?”
Susie looked up at her and blinked.
“Goodness, but you’re cute,” Amy crooned, smoothly changing the child’s diaper. Then she put her to her shoulder and headed downstairs.
Amy heard the side door slam and wondered whether Andrew had gone out and come back in again. But then she heard Beulah greeting Andrew. So. Beulah had decided to come back. She walked into the kitchen and Beulah had the decency to look a bit sheepish.
“Hello, Beulah,” Amy said, deciding to ignore her sister’s absence. “Can you take the roast from the oven and get it on the table? Everything else is ready.”
“Smells gut,” Andrew said. He was looking at Susie in Amy’s arms.
“Here,” Amy said. She handed the baby to him.
Andrew stared into Susie’s face, and Amy saw the tenderness there.
“I have a bottle ready,” she said. “I just need to warm it a bit. Do you want to feed her?”
He gave her a wide-eyed look. “Uh, nee. You go ahead.”
Amy hesitated. “All right. But let’s all go out to the table. I can feed her there.”
Beulah got the roast onto the table, so everything was ready. Andrew led in silent prayer. Amy couldn’t help but think that they were an unlikely group sitting around Grace’s table. Beulah seemed jumpy, and Amy recognized her excitement. Just what had she been up to all afternoon?
She set her jaw. She couldn’t control her sister, so spending her energy worrying about her was useless. She could pray for her, and she would, but for now, all her energy was going to go to Susie and running this household.
And Peter. Yes, and Peter. She smiled to herself when Andrew cleared his throat and started to pass the dishes around the table. Maybe Peter would come as soon as the next afternoon. That would suit Amy just fine.
Chapter Twelve
The next afternoon, Peter peered into the small bathroom mirror over the sink. He ran a comb through his hair, but it didn’t seem to make much difference. He wanted to look good when he stopped by Andrew’s place. If all went well, he would see Amy. Things hadn’t been going well between them, and he hoped today would change that.
He wished he could ask her to marry him. He truly did. But he had to get things in place first. He was going to take the plunge and talk frankly with his father. Find out exactly what his dad had in mind regarding dividing up his land when the time came. If it was bad news for Peter, then he was going to have to make serious plans about how he could make some real money. He had some put back over the years, of course, but it wasn’t enough to buy any land. Not yet, anyway.
He brushed his teeth again for good measure. Goodness, whoever heard of taking such pains before going on a visit? But he couldn’t get the image of Amy out of his mind. He loved the way she smiled—and it was all the better when he was the one who made her smile. She’d make a wonderful good wife. He had no doubt about that. And his folks would be pleased with his choice—everyone in the district liked Amy. Which, of course, was part of the problem. If he didn’t declare himself soon, someone else might.
He spit out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth out. He glanced down at his clothes—they seemed perfectly clean to him. He needed to get going.
He met his mother on his way out of the house.
“What are you doing inside in the middle of the day? I thought you went back out after the noon meal,” she asked, her brow cocked.
“I’m going out now.”
“Wait… Do I smell toothpaste? What are you doing?”
“Nothing, Mamm. I’ll be back soon.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond, he just bounded out of the house and down the steps.
It didn’t take long to get to Andrew’s place. He’d decided to bike over since his dad would probably have need of the driving horse. As he rolled up to the porch, he glanced around. No one was about. Andrew would probably be out in the fields, so he supposed that coming over to visit Andrew was a pretty thin excuse. Still, he had to have some reason for stopping by. It wasn’t exactly proper to go to a door and ask to see your girl.
He lay his bike in the grass next to the flower beds and then went up the porch steps. The door was open, so he knocked on the screen.
Within seconds, Amy was there, smiling at him. Seeing her sent a wave of relief and pleasure through him. How he’d missed her.
“Amy,” he said, grinning. “Hello. I thought I’d drop by to check on Andrew.”
She gave him a knowing smile and joined him on the porch. “He’s out in the fields. You can go on out, if you like.”
He looked into her eyes. “I will in a bit. Can you visit some?”
She nodded. “Susie is asleep, and Beulah is redding up the kitchen from the noon meal.”
“Gut.” He looked about awkwardly. Now what?
“Let’s sit for a while,” Amy said, gesturing toward the porch swing and a rocker. She took the rocker and immediately began rocking gently.
He sat in the swing. “Um, how have you been?”
She nodded. “Fine.”
Such a short answer. In truth, she looked a bit worn out. He should say some
thing nice or comforting, but he had no idea what that might be.
* * *
Amy breathed in the warm summer air and looked expectantly at Peter. It was good to see him. When he took off his straw hat, she could tell that he’d combed his hair for the occasion, which made her smile. But now that he was here, she felt self-conscious, as if they hadn’t already spent hours together on numerous evenings, riding about in his buggy.
He appeared to be just as nervous as she was.
The screen door squawked open and Beulah stuck her head outside. “Ach, Peter. I never heard you come. Did you come by buggy?” She glanced around.
“Nee. I rode over on my bike.”
“That explains it.”
Amy saw a mischievous glint in her sister’s eye and cringed. She had no idea what Beulah was about to say.
“How nice of you to come see our dear Amy,” she said tartly. “She’s been awful busy with Susie, you know. And Andrew, too, in reality. There’s so much to do around here…”
Amy tensed. What was her sister implying? She swallowed and dared a glance at Peter. Peter was staring at Beulah as if she’d removed her kapp and let down her hair. Amy could almost see the wheels turning in his head.
“Both Beulah and I have been busy,” she interjected quickly.
“Jah, we have,” Beulah agreed. “But we all know that Amy is really the one who carries everything. She’s so… Well, so… homey, I guess is the word. Amy is working hard to make sure Andrew is taken care of and that the home runs smoothly. Why, it’s almost like this is her home in a way. I know that Andrew really appreciates all her help.”
“And your help, too,” Amy said sharply, wanting to wring her sister’s neck. What was she trying to do?
“Jah, mine, too. I suppose.” Beulah smiled sweetly at Peter. “Would you like some lemonade, Peter? I can get you a glass. Chances are the boppli might wake up soon and then Amy will be busy.”
Amy stood. “I’ll get the lemonade,” she said. “Beulah, you can help me.”
Amy grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled her inside to the kitchen. “What are you doing?” she cried.
Beulah gave her a wide-eyed look of innocence. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You know full well what I mean.”
Beulah sighed. “Fine. I’m helping you is what I’m doing.”
“Helping me?” Amy was incredulous.
“Sure, I am. I’m trying to light a fire under Peter’s behind and get him moving—now that I know for sure he’s the one who’s been courting you for forever and a day. Has he asked you to marry him yet?”
Amy’s face grew hot.
Beulah shook her head with disgust. “Well, I guess the look on your face answers that question. What’s wrong with him? What’s he waiting for?”
Amy peered out the window nervously, wanting to make sure that Peter couldn’t hear them. Of course, he couldn’t. They weren’t taking that loud, and Peter was on the far end of the porch.
Beulah was tapping her foot, clearly waiting for an answer.
“All right. Nee. He hasn’t me to marry him.”
Beulah gave her a sympathetic look. “Don’t you want him to, Amy?”
“Of course, I do!” Amy cried and felt instant remorse. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s not your fault.”
“I’m sorry, too. I guess I shouldn’t have said anything.” But Beulah’s expression didn’t match her words.
“What are you thinking?” Amy asked. She didn’t like that look on Beulah’s face.
“I’m thinking that Uriah doesn’t sit around pondering things for ages. He acts. He does things quick-like. I never have to wonder.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Amy said, hating the sarcasm that dripped from her voice. She sat down on the kitchen bench. “Sorry. Again.”
Beulah shrugged. “I don’t blame you for being upset. Plus, your best friend is dead now. So, there’s that.”
Amy stared at her sister. Could she put things any more bluntly?
“I was trying to help,” Beulah said. “Whether you believe it or not.”
Amy studied her sister’s face. “I believe you.”
Just then, Susie let out a wail from upstairs.
“Go on up,” Beulah said. “I’ll get Peter his lemonade.”
“You sure?”
“It’s the least I can do,” Beulah said and then grinned.
Amy ran up the stairs and picked up the baby. She was soaked through. Amy changed her and put her in a new gown.
“You should look your best, right, little one? We’ve got company downstairs,” she said and laughed. “Imagine that. Sprucing up a boppli for company. Whoever heard of such a thing? But, it’s Peter downstairs. He’s my beau. Someday…” She paused. “Someday, maybe, he’ll ask me to marry him.”
She waited for the surge of excitement to run through her, but there was nothing but a feeling of resignation. Peter would likely never declare himself. Maybe if he saw how comfortable she was caring for a baby, he’d change his mind. If he saw that she’d be a good mother, he’d want to marry her.
You’re grasping for straws, she told herself.
“Come, Susie. We’ll get you a bottle and feed you out on the porch. How does that sound? It’s right pretty outside. You’ll like it. Your mamm…” she cleared her throat, “…your mamm loved the summertime. It was her very favorite season of the year.”
Amy blinked back her tears and took the baby down to the kitchen. She could see that Beulah had already taken the lemonade outside, and through the window, she saw Beulah and Peter chatting. She bit her lip. Hopefully, her sister was behaving herself.
She prepared a bottle as quickly as she could and then went out to join them. Peter looked up at her and smiled. Then his focus fell to the baby.
Amy cleared her throat. “Susie is hungry. I hope you don’t mind me feeding her out here.”
He shook his head. “Not at all.”
Beulah stood. “I’m going inside. Later, I’ll be going out for a while,” she said, looking at Amy. “Don’t wait supper for me.”
“You’re going to be gone through supper?”
Beulah beat a hasty retreat, calling out, “Don’t wait for me,” as she went inside, the screen door banging shut behind her.
Amy settled into the rocker. Her sister was no doubt going out to see Uriah again. Amy swallowed a tinge of jealousy and then wondered at herself. Why in the world was she jealous of Beulah? Uriah didn’t come close to being the man that Peter was. She frowned, not liking it when she made comparisons. But this time, she couldn’t help it. So why should she be jealous?
And then, it hit her. The passion. The excitement. The emotion of her sister’s fervency in seeing Uriah. That was missing from her relationship with Peter. She glanced at him and noted he was still smiling at her. She shivered and smiled back.
Grief did funny things to a person, she thought. Mixed things all up in a person’s head, until sometimes, they didn’t know what to think.
“How’s your day been, Amy?” Peter asked, and the warmth in his voice soothed her agitation.
“I slept better last night. We all did, I think.”
Peter glanced at the front door then back at her. “And Beulah? She’s helping you?”
Amy laughed. “Sometimes. You know Beulah.”
He shrugged. “And Andrew. How is he?”
Was it her imagination, or was there something in Peter’s eyes when he said Andrew’s name? No. It was only her imagination, for sure and for certain. More evidence of what grief did to a person’s mind.
“He’s all right, I suppose. Getting better.”
“How long will you be here?”
“I’m not sure. Andrew and I haven’t really talked about it. We don’t talk that much.”
Was that now relief on Peter’s face?
Maybe, Beulah had known what she was doing after all.
“I’ll go out to the field to talk with him before I
leave.”
“To me?” Andrew said, approaching them from around the side of the house. He took off his straw hat and wiped his brow with his arm. “Hello, Peter.”
“H-hello, Andrew.”
“You came to see me?”
“Uh, jah. How are you doing? All of us have just felt so bad for you. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Nee,” Andrew said. “But thank you just the same.”
Amy watched the two of them visit. Peter was a nice man.
“Would you like some lemonade?” Amy asked Andrew. “I can fetch you some right quick.”
Andrew shook his head. “Nee. You’re busy with Susie. I don’t need anything.”
Chapter Thirteen
Peter watched Andrew walk over to Amy and bend down to caress the baby’s cheek. But he didn’t straighten up right away. He gazed at Susie for a good long moment. Both of them did. Amy and Andrew were gazing at Susie as if the world revolved around her. As if they were both the parents of the child.
His heart lurched, and his eyes widened. This scene was much too cozy for his liking. He gaped at them now, dread and foreboding filling his heart. He needed to act. He was going to mess this up if he didn’t.
“Are Grace’s parents coming soon?” he blurted.
Both Amy and Andrew looked at him.
He tilted his head. “Uh. I was just wondering. I imagine they’re excited to see the boppli.”
Andrew straightened up. “I think Mavis’s dat is near death. When he passes, they’ll come.”
“Uh, then, it’s a gut thing you have Beulah and Amy to help out, ain’t so?”
Andrew let out a long sigh. “I couldn’t do it without them.” He glanced at Amy, and they smiled at each other.
No. No. No. This was worse than Peter had thought. “Uh…” he stood, trying to break this intimate thing—this closeness he was witnessing before his very eyes.
Caring For Susie (Amy's Story Book 1) Page 7