Amanda Weds a Good Man (3 page)

T
he following Thursday, Abby felt so giddy she could have skipped across the road to her mamm's greenhouse like a schoolgirl. What a wonderful wedding she'd witnessed! Her nephew, Matt Lambright, had just married Rosemary Yutzy in a traditional yet touching Old Order service. Rosemary had radiated with love as she repeated her vows, completing her transformation from being a young widow to becoming Matt's bride. Her toddler, Katie, hadn't made a peep, sitting in her mammi's lap, and Sam had preached his first sermon so well that the guests were now clapping him on the back as heartily as they were congratulating the newlyweds.

As one of Rosemary's sidesitters, Abby had been seated on the front row of the women's side—directly across from James, who had served in the same capacity for Matt. James's flirtatious gazes had distracted her often, making her believe that soon
she
would be a bride, at long last. As much as she loved weddings, however, Abby was eager to help Mamm and Sam's wife, Barbara, with the feast and to visit with friends and family for the rest of the day.

And what a fine September day it was for these festivities! The pasture, dotted with Matt's sheep, shone a radiant green in the sunlight. The sumac bushes blushed with their first hint of autumn color. The garden alongside Sam's white farmhouse still had some ripe tomatoes on the vines and several acorn and butternut squash were nearly ready to pick. The glass walls of her mother's greenhouse sparkled from their recent cleaning. When Abby stepped inside, the aroma of the traditional “roast,” made with chicken and stuffing, filled her soul.

The long white-draped tables looked dreamlike, set off by small potted mums and plants from her mamm's store. On the eck—the raised corner table where the wedding party would be seated—a white tiered cake gave the entire room a festive air. Because Treva's Greenhouse had no cooking facilities, they were blessed that neighbor ladies had prepared a lot of the wedding feast in Beulah Mae Nissley's café, while Lois Yutzy and others had baked the pies and bread in her bakery.

Abby's sister-in-law, Barbara, her mamm, Treva, and other women were setting the catering pans on the serving table, but when Abby saw Emma Graber cutting pies, she hurried over to help. “We have quite a variety here,” she said as she picked up a clean knife.

“Jah, I've seen peach and rhubarb and apple, along with cherry and blackberry,” Emma replied as she slipped cut pieces onto serving plates. “With Beth Ann Yutzy and Ruthie setting them on the tables, it's all I can do to keep up!”

Abby laughed. “Those two remind me of us when we were that age, Emma. Never able to sit still—”

“Always together, laughing and chattering, too.” Emma emptied another pie pan, her expression more serious. “It was so gut to see you and my brother sitting up front for the wedding. Nice of Matt to ask his aunt and his best friend to witness for him.”

“Well, since Matt has no brothers—” When Abby noticed Emma's quivering chin, she slipped her arm around her best friend's shoulders. “I'm sorry, Emma. It's probably been a tough day, watching Matt marry somebody else after all the years you had your heart set on him,” she murmured.

“Jah, well . . . I thought I'd gotten over it. Rosemary's a gut match for him, and he's crazy about her little Katie.”

“God's got somebody special in mind for you. I believe that with all my heart,” Abby insisted. “But the waiting's never easy when we can't see into the future like He does.”

Emma sighed. “You're probably right. And now's not the time to be sniffling. Folks will pester me about being down in the dumps while everyone else is celebrating.”

“Better to put on a smile,” Abby agreed. “Maybe as the day goes along, you'll feel better. No doubt the food's going to be gut! And there'll be singing later, and out-of-town folks we don't often get to visit with.”

“And if I keep myself too busy to fret about being the only gal hereabouts without a beau, the time'll go faster.”

As Abby ran her knife through a few more pies, she realized that today's groom wasn't the only source of her friend's heartache. Emma was also feeling left out because James was with Abby every chance he got—and even the best of friendships changed when one girl was courting and the other wasn't. Not that long ago Abby had agonized as other girls in her buddy bunch got hitched, and she'd been thankful to have Emma as a steadfast—and single—friend. Abby had gotten past that disappointment, though, when she'd started her Stitch in Time business and built her own home.

As her niece Ruthie raced Beth Ann Yutzy to their cutting table, however, it was impossible to remain downhearted. “I'm gonna finish
my
side of the table before you do!” Ruthie challenged as she picked up a tray filled with sliced pie.

“Puh! I might just
eat
some pieces from your side so you'll have to put more out,” Beth Ann countered.

“Jah, I'm ready for dinner, too,” Abby chimed in as she cut another pie. “It's a gut thing folks are crossing the lane to take their places for the first sitting.”

“And once Rosemary and Matt get here, you and James will be sitting up front where all of us can watch how moony-eyed you get,” Ruthie teased.

As the two girls hurried to set out more pie, Abby wondered about that. Were she and James really moony-eyed? Were they too affectionate in public? Or was her youngest niece playing things up?

A little while later, as Abby savored her plateful of chicken roast, creamed celery, mashed potatoes, green beans, and several kinds of salads, she shared an occasional glance with James while making sure to sit so they weren't touching. Neither of them had ever been seated on the eck as a member of a wedding party, and it seemed a lot like being on a stage.

“Feels kind of funny eating with an audience, ain't so?” he murmured.

“We can hope everyone's watching Rosemary and Matt—especially with little Katie sitting between them as though
she's
the reason for all this celebrating.”

James glanced toward the center of the table and chuckled: Katie had sprung up with her fork in one hand and her spoon in the other, as though she was about to lead everyone in singing. “It
is
her celebration, when you think about it. It's not every day a girl gets a new dat, and another family to go with him,” he said in a thoughtful tone. “That's a gift she'll appreciate more as she grows up, I'm thinking.”

“It makes me grateful that Dat lived to see me grown up . . . helped me build my house a couple years ago,” Abby replied quietly. “I feel him with us in spirit today, sharing our happiness for Matt.”

“I miss your father.” James looked deeply into Abby's eyes. “While my dat and I are close, and he's ecstatic that I'm courting you, I looked up to Leroy Lambright as a fellow I wanted to be just like when I grew up.”

Abby gripped her napkin, caught up in a poignant moment . . . and in this handsome man's undeniable admiration. “That's a fine tribute to him, James,” she whispered. “Your dat has always been one of my favorite fellows, too. He seems especially dear now that his memory's not so gut.”

James flashed her a grateful smile. “With Dat, every day's a new day because he's forgotten things he messed up—along with the sharp remarks Mamm probably made about it. Not a bad way to live, really. Forgiving comes easier when you've already forgotten what the problem was.”

And wasn't that an interesting insight? “I think you just gave me the idea for a
Budget
column,” Abby murmured. She glanced at the long, crowded table in front of them and forked up another bite of her potatoes. “My word, most folks are already eating their pie! I'll need to help clear the tables soon.”

James, too, refocused on his dinner. “That's just one of the things I love about you, Abby,” he said. “You put other people first and you're glad to jump in and help. Especially since, as a member of the wedding party, you could sit up here all day.”

“You could, too, James. But I don't see that happening.”

“So you think you've got me all figured out.” James set his pie on his empty dinner plate. “Guess I'll have to find different ways to do things—just to surprise you. Sharp cookie that you are, that might take some doing.”

Abby's heart fluttered. Wasn't it good to know that such a wonderful man thought she was worth some extra effort?

•   •   •

T
hat night after supper Amanda slipped into the barn to wait for Wyman's call. During harvest, when he had no time to drive all the way to Bloomingdale, they had agreed to keep in touch by phone. It gave her something to look forward to after each busy day of packing and preparing for the move . . . a few moments to just sit. The big old barn filled with peaceful shadows as the sun dipped below the horizon. The sound of animals chewing their hay—mostly Jerome's mules, and the donkeys and horses he kept for breeding them—soothed her.

As she inhaled the earthy scents of manure and hay, Amanda again felt grateful that she didn't have to have her wedding here. The celebration for Matt and Rosemary would still be going strong at Sam Lambright's place . . .
and I thank You, Lord, for surrounding me with family and friends to help me through so many changes—

The phone on the wall trilled. “Jah, hullo?” she said.

“Amanda. It's gut to hear your voice after a busy day, my love.”

She closed her eyes to savor Wyman's endearment, for most Amish fellows didn't wax romantic when they spoke to their women. As her intended's low voice seeped into her being, she relaxed on the old wooden bench. “We've been scurrying like squirrels, too, Wyman,” she remarked. “The girls washed jars and chopped the vegetables while Jemima and I canned a big batch of chowchow, along with the last of the tomatoes for the season.”

“Mmmm. We'll all enjoy those this winter,” Wyman said. “Vera does her best with the garden, but keeping food on our table from one meal to the next occupies most of her time. We haven't had much homemade jam or chowchow lately.”

“She's very capable for a girl of seventeen.” Amanda rested against the barn wall, soaking up Wyman's pleasant conversation. “And how about you? Did you fellows unload a lot of wagons today?”

“Jah, and what with the drought, several of the locals have already cleared their fields. Some of them will have to live mighty tight this winter.” He sighed, a sign that he was both weary and concerned. “It's not gut when Plain fathers with large families talk of taking on a job in town. Makes me thankful that the elevator is just across the road from home, and that English farmers bring their crops to us, too, so Ray and I can support our families. But enough about business.”

Amanda could feel his gentle smile coming through the phone line as she anticipated more intimate conversation. Once their courting phase was over, private time together might be hit-and-miss, so she was enjoying every moment of it while she could. “And what else is on your mind tonight, dear man?”

“You.”

Oh, but that single word made her feel alive. Ready to emerge from her cocoon of grief. “How so?” she asked, hoping for more of this enticing talk.

“I've been thinking how much easier it is, falling in love this time around,” he replied. “When I was courting Viola I was a bundle of nerves, wondering how I'd pull everything together. Ray Fisher and I had been friends all our lives but we hadn't been in business long, so we were both worried about getting the elevator off to a profitable start as we took wives,” he explained. “With you, Amanda, it's like wrapping myself in a cozy old sweater. We've both been through the newlywed jitters—and we've known our share of trials and tragedy, too. So we can just be who we already are for each other.”

“And who you are, Wyman, makes me feel gut about who I am . . . who I can be from here on out, too,” Amanda murmured. “But I'm hoping that when I wrap myself around you, it's not an old sweater you'll be thinking about.”

Wyman's low laughter sent shivers up her spine. “I can't wait to be with you . . . in our room,” he murmured. “I crave you like a ravenous man who's arrived at a feast. But food—and jah, old sweaters—will be the furthest things from my mind once we're man and wife.”

Amanda hugged herself, barely able to contain her longing—her need for both emotional and physical affection. “Just a couple more weeks now, and we'll make it all come true.”

“I wish I could drive over there tonight,” he whispered. “Twenty years ago I wouldn't have given a second thought to being out at all hours, to spend time with you.”

“Twenty years ago we might not have liked each other,” Amanda pointed out. “Our first marriages have molded us into different people.”

“You've got a point there. And before I completely forget to tell you, I hope it'll be all right if the kids come over for the day on Saturday?”

Amanda's eyebrows shot up. She still had so many things to pack—

“It was Pete's idea that he and Eddie could help Jerome bale your hay, as a way to make up for tormenting Lizzie in the mercantile,” Wyman went on. “Vera's hoping to help you pack boxes, or she'll watch the kids while you and Jemima work, or whatever you need her to do. I think she'd like to spend time with you and Lizzie, maybe to talk about how things will be when you folks move in with us.”

“Ah. Well, that'll be fine—”

“And Simon's leaving his dog at home,” Wyman added. “We're all very sorry about your pottery getting broken.”

Although Wyman had paid her for her shattered pieces, he had no idea how it had pained her to see her pie plates and pitchers lying smashed in her wagon. “Well, I could have put my end gate up before I went in to speak with Sam,” she murmured. “Could have padded my pieces with newspaper, or—”