Amanda Weds a Good Man (23 page)

B
y the next afternoon, Wyman, Ray, and the Fisher boys had hacked the fallen trees into manageable pieces with their chain saws while Eddie and Pete hauled the chunks off into the yard with the forklifts from the elevator. One of Ray's cousins, who worked for the electric cooperative, was to come with a “cherry picker” truck so they could fasten tarps over the exposed section of the house when they had finished working for the day. The situation was grave and everyone was upset about losing some of their belongings, yet Amanda thrummed with hope. She hadn't pointed this out to Wyman, but because her furniture from Bloomingdale had been stashed in the shed, all her pieces had been spared. Wasn't this God's providence at work?

When Uriah Schmucker pulled in the lane, however, Amanda steered the kids to the side yard to pick up debris, figuring the bishop would rather speak with Wyman than her. When the chain saws stopped, Uriah's reedy voice rang out as he surveyed the damage.

“Time to set your house in order, Wyman,” he declared. “If this storm damage isn't God's punishment, what else would you call it?”

Amanda scowled at Uriah's self-righteous tone. She watched Wyman set down the section of crushed kitchen cabinet he'd been carrying to wipe his forehead on his sleeve. “Jah, I see this as the Lord's way of saying it's time to remodel—both our home and our family,” he replied confidently. “I'm sure you'll understand why we'll not be at the service on Sunday. We won't be able to live here for a long while, so we'll be staying in Bloomingdale. On Amanda's farm.”

Amanda's heart danced. She'd secretly hoped Wyman would consider that angle about church—just as she knew the bishop would get steamed about it.

“That's ducking your responsibility to God,” Uriah replied with a glare. “And if Amanda fails to confess, as I've directed, you're both setting a bad example for your children. Not to mention risking your wife's salvation.”

“Ah, but God was the first one I talked to about this,” Wyman replied quietly. “What a blessing it was to find our Brubaker family Bible unharmed, and to read our evening devotions in the safety of our motel room. Jesus was saying that ‘In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.'”

Amanda held her breath. That passage had brought them great comfort last night, but Clearwater's bishop discouraged his flock from reading the Scriptures. He believed lay folks were too inclined toward their own interpretations.

“Beware of using God's word to justify your actions,” Uriah warned in a strident voice. “You're crossing the line into heresy—”

“But how can that be?” Wyman asked in all sincerity. “While Jesus was referring to making a place for believers in Heaven, in our hour of need we were able to stay at the motel. And because Amanda has a furnished home, our family can recover from this disaster together as we rebuild our lives here. Seems God has provided us many mansions even in this earthly life, wouldn't you say? And for that we are truly thankful.”

Uriah's scowl could have made the hens stop laying. “You'd best halt
right there
with your loose interpretation of—”

Wyman crossed his arms. His expression remained calm, but he was clearly not in the mood for Uriah's lecture. “Is it wrong for Lizzie and Pete to keep up with their schooling in Bloomingdale, while Eddie and I work with carpenters to rebuild this house?” he asked. “Is it wrong for Amanda to keep our family together, running the household—as you've told her to? While it's painful to see my family in such upheaval, I believe God is working His purpose out during this setback. He's showing us ways to fix what's broken. Ways to amend our lives.”

Amanda's heart beat faster and she wanted to cheer for her husband. She and Wyman had talked late into the night, and his faith—the transformation of yesterday's devastation into today's hope and purpose—was an inspiration for the whole family.

“I can see my words are falling on deaf ears.” Uriah glanced disparagingly at the three Fishers, who had quietly continued carrying debris from the kitchen. “You folks have been associating too closely with these Mennonites . . . another topic we'll pray over at the Members' Meeting on Sunday.”

“We'll appreciate any prayers you offer in our behalf. And now, bishop, I have work to do,” Wyman replied coolly. “Denki for stopping by.”

Oh, but Uriah looked ready to pop. Amanda sensed the bishop would soon return with the district's other two preachers to discuss Wyman's
attitude
. And what could they say about her husband's partnering with the Fisher family for all these years? Wyman and Ray had built the elevator before they'd married or joined the church—before Uriah had become the bishop—with help from both families. Amanda couldn't help but notice that Uriah hadn't lifted a finger . . . and that it was Ray's wife, Sally, who brought over a noon meal for them.

As they were finishing their dinner of fried chicken, stewed tomatoes, and cabbage with noodles, Amanda's ears perked up. While it was everyday business for the men to discuss local crops and the farmers who raised them, Trevor Fisher's voice had an interesting edge to it.

“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.”