Amanda Weds a Good Man (24 page)

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.

W
hat 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.

•   •   •

A
s 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.

“So, Mamma, do we get our old rooms back?” Lizzie asked eagerly. “Where will we put the boys?”

“I don't want Simon in our room!” Cora declared.

“Jah, because he sneaks Wags in at night,” Dora said. “He wants to help Jerome with the mules, so maybe he should sleep out in the barn with them!”

Amanda turned to smile at her daughters, who were clearly excited about this return to Bloomingdale. “Let's remember that Vera and Simon shifted into different rooms when we moved into their house, so we should share and be willing to change, just like they were,” she replied. “And it's not like we're staying for gut, you know.”

“I have a suggestion,” Jemima said. “It would suit me just fine to sleep in the dawdi haus, which would open up a room for Eddie and Pete . . . and get me out of the main bathroom, too.”

Amanda smiled ruefully, for her mother-in-law had felt like she was in the way at the Brubaker place. “If you're sure you'll be all right—”

“A downstairs room is better for me anyway, with these legs acting up,” Jemima insisted. “Probably should've moved into those rooms long ago . . . and it'll be quieter there. No pitter-patter of little feet in the hallway at night.”

“But, Mammi,” Cora said. “We won't need to go to Mamma's room anymore, because that wolf doesn't live at our house.”

“Jah, he won't be scratching on our wall or howling anymore,” Dora chimed in.

“
That
would be an improvement,” Amanda murmured. After finding a metal currycomb beneath Simon's bed yesterday, she and Wyman had confirmed where those scratching noises had been coming from, and this change of houses would be the perfect opportunity to stop them. “What do you think, Lizzie? Would you and Vera rather share Mammi's old room?” she asked. “We'll let Jerome stay put, and your dat and I will be in my room, and we could put a bunk in the sewing room for Simon. But I'll put you girls in charge of where Alice Ann and the twins should go, and Eddie and Pete, too.”

“Jah, that works!” Lizzie said. “Vera, you and I can go upstairs and figure that out first thing.”

“Jerome will help you shift beds or set up the extra ones we've stored in the attic.” Amanda checked that chore off her mental list. It would be best for the older girls to arrange their siblings' rooms and clothes, anyway, while the boys helped Wyman with the unloading. She and Wyman had agreed that all the kids needed more responsibility, and that they should be held accountable for their decisions, too.

She glanced at Jemima. “Shall we stop by the mercantile? See if they'll load our frozen food and those cooking supplies Abby offered us? You and I could get the kitchen whipped into shape that way, and make dinner, along with something to take for tomorrow's common meal.”

“Jah, and if I do the cooking that'll free you up to tell the fellows where to put things as they unload.” Jemima was trying to suppress a satisfied grin. “Even if Jerome's left the place looking like a bachelor's hideout, it'll be gut to have my kitchen back . . . if only for a few weeks, jah?”

“We'll know more about that after Wyman talks to the carpenters. He hasn't had time to call them, busy as we've been.” Amanda hadn't let on to Wyman or the kids, but she harbored a secret hope that the rebuilding would take most of the winter. Was she being selfish? It would be so good to worship with old friends tomorrow . . . to eat meals cooked in the kitchen she'd known since she'd married Atlee, and to watch autumn ease into winter through the large, sunny windows in the room where she'd worked on her pottery.

It won't be the same without my wheel and clay and glazes . . . but I'll be too busy to notice
, she told herself.
And if the girls want that nice downstairs room for themselves, well, I don't have a gut reason to refuse them, do I?

As they rounded the bend near Cedar Creek, Amanda could see that most of the downed trees and broken windows had been cleaned up to the point it didn't look like this little town had even seen a storm.
Neighbor helping neighbor
, she mused.
That's how it's supposed to be.
She had hardly halted the horse in the mercantile's parking lot before Sam stepped outside.

“You gals got an early start!” he said cheerfully. “Let me tell Abby you're here. She and Emma put a few things together for you.”

Moments later Sam was pulling a wooden cart toward the wagon, and as he lifted bulk bags of flour and other kitchen staples to the wagon bed, Vera and Lizzie shifted them over beside the other packed boxes. Abby, too, came outside with a cart that was filled with bundles wrapped in brown paper while Emma walked along beside her, holding a garment bag.

“You ladies have a busy day ahead of you,” Emma remarked. “I can't imagine changing houses and having to move your things again so soon. James and the folks send you their best.”

“Mamm and Eunice and Emma and I had our own little sewing frolic last night,” Abby added as she beamed at Amanda. “We got some dresses made, and then we wrapped up some socks and underthings from the store—”

“And I'd better see a bill for the fabric and the underwear—not to mention for the cooking supplies,” Amanda rasped. Who would have believed such generosity? As she helped Abby and Emma hand the packages up to the girls in the wagon, she saw that each one was labeled—and there was a bundle for each member of the family, not just for the kids who had lost their clothes. “Wyman will have a fit when he sees how much you've given us.”