A Family for Gracie Page 19

  She was roused from her disturbing thoughts as Stephen trudged to their quilt and plopped down next to her and crossed his arms. His bottom lip protruded slightly, and she could see a storm brewing in his eyes.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  But then Henry came up and flopped down beside him. “There’s a dat and son race.”

  “And my dat isn’t here.” The words couldn’t have sounded more heartbroken unless he had taken a page from Baby Grace’s book and squalled while he said them.

  “Can someone else—” she started, but he shook his head.

  “What good is a father-son race if it’s not a father and son? Plus, Amanda said it would only be fair if everyone did it the same.”

  Amanda was right, but Gracie couldn’t get past her anger with Matthew. There was something inherently off about the whole situation. Why couldn’t he be there today? Why he had stayed gone all day yesterday? Why did he sleep in the room down the hall?

  “It’s just a silly old race.” Gracie waved one hand as if to show just how silly and pulled the towel from atop their picnic basket. “Don’t tell anyone, but I have three slices of cherry pie left. I sure wouldn’t want them to go to waste. And it looks like the picnic is about to wrap up.” She allowed her gaze to roam around the play yard, but the picnic festivities were still in full swing. Yet Henry and Stephen didn’t know that. How easily the mind of a young boy could be swayed if food was involved.

  “We can help you eat it, Gracie,” Henry boasted. He stuck his chest out importantly and jerked a thumb toward himself. “I’m one of the best pie eaters there is.”

  “Are,” she corrected, then she frowned. Was it is or are? Now they both sounded wrong. “It doesn’t matter.” She pulled the pie pan from the basket and grabbed a couple of paper plates. She knew she shouldn’t bribe them with food to forget their disappointment, but she couldn’t stand to see the heartbreak on their faces. And if a piece of cherry pie could correct that, then so be it.

  * * *

  But she had more than cherry pie on her mind as she pulled her buggy to a stop and unloaded the kids later that afternoon.

  “Can we check the money jar?” Henry asked as he jumped down from the buggy.

  Gracie winced as he hit the ground. Honestly, the boy was so rambunctious she was surprised he didn’t go around with two broken arms all the time. Only by the grace of God.

  “Stephen, go with him.”

  Stephen nodded but his footsteps were heavy as he followed his brother to the little shop to see if anyone had stopped at their store and bought something while they were gone. Most everyone in their community had a shop in front of their house and it was impossible to man it at all times. So the honor system was put into place. As far as she knew, Eunice never had any problems. Gracie supposed if you expected people to follow the rules and respect another’s property that the reverence could fall into place on those expectations alone.

  She helped the twins down and as she knew would happen, they followed their brothers to the shop.

  Then Gracie pulled Baby Grace’s carrier seat from the back of the buggy. As was her custom when she arrived alone back at the house, she would place the baby in the shade of the porch, unhitch the horse, hand him over to Stephen and Henry, then get the baby and the twins into the house. And like so many other times since she had married Matthew, she was alone.

  Because he was gone.

  The thought kept playing over and over in her head. She just didn’t understand it. He had seemed like such a good father before. What had happened?

  She had happened. She was pretty sure that his marriage to her and realizing that the crushing responsibility could be shifted to another was enough. He knew he was free to do and act in any way that he liked.

  Well, Gracie didn’t like it. Not one bit. Especially when it disappointed Stephen or any of the children.

  She wanted to unload everything and wait at the kitchen table for him to return. She imagined laying into him the minute she saw him, telling him the what-for and how the cow ate the cabbage, and all those other things that Mammi Glick said. But Mammi also said that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar and that was exactly what she planned on doing.

  “Look!” Henry ran toward her, a fistful of money in his good hand. “We made like a hundred dollars.”

  Stephen hurried behind him, rolling his eyes and pushing his glasses up as he skipped in his brother’s wake. “You might be able to read, but you can’t count worth a darn. There’s not more than twenty dollars there.”

  “Is too!” Henry didn’t stop until he was standing directly in front of Gracie. “Tell him.” He waved the money around so erratically that she couldn’t even begin to guess how much was there. She saw a twenty in the mix, so there was at least that much, but the rest was impossible to see until she got the bills away from him.

  “Give it here,” she coaxed. “You can help me count it.” It was the perfect learning opportunity. It was true that Henry was a whiz at reading and all things that had to do with the written word, but his math skills had yet to be developed. But that was expected. She had read somewhere that the two different sides of the brain controlled a person’s love or acceptance of certain things like art and math. Henry had certainly gotten the love of Englisch stories and art. But math would need some work before he started to school in the fall.

  The thought of him being gone from the house until three every day made her want to cry. How was it possible to wish someone would slow down and stop growing, but at the same time wanting all the best for them? She wanted Henry to grow up, be a strong man someday, but at the same time she wished he could remain small and innocent forever.

  They counted it out loud, all five of them. Stephen was the only one to get all the numbers correct. Henry, not willing to be wrong, hesitated before each number, waiting until Stephen said it before saying it himself. The twins shouted random numbers and Gracie couldn’t decide if they were trying to count or sabotage their brothers’ concentration.

  “Sixty-three dollars,” Henry exclaimed. “How close is that to a million?”

  “Not very.” Gracie smiled.

  “What do you know about a million dollars?” Stephen challenged.

  Henry shrugged. “I know I would like to have a million dollars one day.”

  That was a surprise. “Why?” Gracie asked. “What would you do with it?”

  “Bury it in a coffee can behind the shed,” Stephen teased.

  “Spend it on toys,” Thomas shouted.

  “Jah,” Benjamin agreed.

  “Just keep it, I guess.” Henry’s frown seemed to indicate that he hadn’t thought about it that far.

  “What good is it, if you just keep it?” Stephen asked.

  “Jah,” Thomas agreed. “You should spend it.”

  Henry shook his head. “I would keep it,” he said decidedly. “That way if I ever wanted anything I would have all the money I needed to buy it.”

  Except for love, she thought. Nothing in the world could bring a person love but a little luck and the grace of God. Right now she seemed to have neither.

  * * *

  “Can I talk to you for a moment?” Gracie stopped in front of the chair where Matthew sat, and waited for his response. Supper had been eaten, the boys washed and put to bed, and Baby Grace was already asleep in her crib. The supper dishes had been cleaned and put away and all the evening chores complete.

  Matthew had been sitting in his favorite chair reading The Budget and basically ignoring everything that was going on around him.

  He hadn’t read to them from the Bible since that first night, and she missed that ritual. She wanted to ask him to bring it back, for the children’s sake if not for their own, but not tonight. Tonight she had something else to talk to him about.

  “Jah,” he said, though his voice sounded exasperated and wary all at the same time.

  “There’s a couples’ night t
omorrow at Aaron Zook’s. I thought it would be fun to go. What do you think?” Why was her heart pounding so? It was a simple invitation, but somehow it meant a lot for him to accept.

  “What kind of couples’ night?”

  She shrugged. “Potluck supper and games.” Why did it sound so boring when just a few minutes ago it was the most fun she could think of?

  “I don’t think so.” He shook out his paper as if he was about to open it once again and dismiss her for the night.

  White-hot anger surged through her, intense and unfamiliar. She couldn’t ever remember being this angry before, and she couldn’t contain the feeling. “You’re embarrassing me.”

  He looked up from his paper, his eyes narrowed in confusion. At least she hoped that’s what it was. “What are you talking about?”

  She could say never mind and walk away, but what would that accomplish? Their marriage might be unusual, it might even be unorthodox, but it was the one they had. Surely they could find some common ground where they could meet. Right now they were living separate lives, only intersecting for supper and church. And she was tired of it. She knew people were talking about them, and it bothered her. No matter how many times she told herself to forget it, not worry about it, it always came back to poke at her.

  “I’m talking about everybody we know is talking about us and how we don’t do things together and how our marriage is suspicious.”

  “Suspicious?”

  She waved away the word. Maybe that wasn’t exactly what the women had said, but it didn’t matter. The fact that they were wondering about them was enough. “You and I never go anywhere together and people are noticing. How can I pretend that this is a normal marriage if you won’t even go to the end-of-school-year picnic with me? Or to your son’s doctor appointment?”

  “That’s what you’re doing? Pretending we have a conventional relationship?”

  “What else am I supposed to do?” A new embarrassment was creeping up on her. “I thought that it would be a little . . . different than this.” She couldn’t come right out and say it. Married or not, it was too personal by far.

  “It?” he asked.

  Was he really not following the conversation or was he playing dumb in order to stall her out and hope she dropped the whole thing? Maybe it was a little bit of both.

  “I—” Could she do this? Could she talk to him about such personal matters? She supposed if she was going to get what she came into this marriage for, she was going to have to. “I told you when we got married that I wanted a family.”

  He nodded. “You have a family.”

  “A baby,” she clarified.

  He stopped nodding to frown. “You have a baby.”

  “My own baby.” She laid a hand over her heart, not quite believing she said the words.

  “But I asked you,” he said.

  “You asked me if I wanted more children.”

  “I did—would you please sit down?” He had to crane his neck back to look her in the face. And she supposed it was uncomfortable to continually look up at a person you were almost arguing with.

  She eased down onto the couch on the end opposite him. This conversation had taken an unexpected turn and was lasting a lot longer than she had expected.

  “You asked me What about more children?” If her memory served her right, those were his exact words.

  “And you said you would take what God gave you.” His voice took on a musing quality.

  “He has a plan for me. For us.”

  Matthew shook his head, almost sadly. “I thought you meant that you were happy with the children you would have coming into this marriage.”

  “I love your kids, our kids,” she stressed. “But I’ve always wanted to be a mother in my own right.” Why it was so important to her she couldn’t say. It was just one of those things, those life dreams that she had carried with her as long as she could remember.

  “I don’t want any more children.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  His confession stabbed through her.

  “What?” The word was more of a shocked exhale. Was he really telling the truth, or had she slipped into some horrible dream?

  “I don’t—”

  “Don’t repeat it.” She held up one hand, though her gaze was firmly on her lap. She couldn’t look at him. She was angry, yes. And hurt. But it wasn’t directed at him. She wanted it to be. She wanted to yell and rant and pace back and forth, but the whole thing had been a misunderstanding. She had married him with false expectations, and he her. They were both victims of a situation of their own creation. She had asked him to marry her first. She had told him that she knew he needed help with his children. He had asked her what she would get out of the deal. A family was all she said. Not a baby of my very own. Those were the words she should have told him. Now, after all the words had been tossed around, she had practically asked him to fulfill the intimate side of their marriage. And it was never his intention. The embarrassment was staggering. Much more than Mary Ann Hostetler and Freda Esh talking about them. So much more.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. She rose to her feet and tears sprang to her eyes. She had been an utter fool. A complete and utter idiot. “So sorry.” She turned and crossed to the hallway, intent on going to her room.

  “Gracie.” Her name was a soft whisper on his lips. But she wouldn’t stop. She needed time. Time to work all this out and make peace with the decisions and mistakes that she had made. “Gracie,” he called again.

  “Not now, Matthew.” She tossed the words over one shoulder and ducked into her room. She closed the door quietly as to not disturb Baby Grace and prayed that he didn’t come after her. She needed to be alone, to work through it all. And maybe then this marriage wouldn’t feel like the biggest mistake of her life.

  * * *

  He called her name again, but she either didn’t hear or she ignored him. He was pretty certain it was the latter.

  Some emotion he didn’t understand churned inside of him. He should jump up and run after her. But she had told him not in so many words to leave her alone. Not now, Matthew meant I’m not ready to hear your explanation.

  Or to her they would be excuses. That’s how it went in such important differences of opinion.

  But to think of it like that made it seem small. And it was huge.

  And even if he did go after her, what would he say? That he was sorry? That he hadn’t meant for her to misunderstand his intentions?

  But she had apologized to him. What did she have to be sorry for, other than calling him on his reluctance to do things with her?

  He didn’t quite understand all that himself, except that the more time he spent with her, the more he liked her as a person and that was a bit terrifying. She took care of his children and watched over them better than their own mother had. She hadn’t complained once about the baby and how much she cried. It was as if Gracie knew what was in the baby’s heart and only time and love would correct the wrongs that had been dealt her. Gracie had brought in a goodly amount of money from the shop and handed it over with only a small allowance to help pay for the supplies needed for the lotions and soaps. She had supper on the table every night, the clothes cleaned and put away. She had his entire house running like a well-bred horse—smoothly, steadily, and beautifully.

  And she was sorry because she wanted a baby of her own. That was something he just didn’t think he could give her. He knew he couldn’t. She thought she knew what she wanted, but she didn’t understand all the risks, all the terrible things that could go wrong. Children were a blessing, that much was true. And he was content with the blessings the Lord had given him. Maybe with time she would be too.

  But he had seen the hurt in her eyes, the embarrassment, what it had cost her to talk to him about such matters. And he wanted to take that away. His only hope was to give her all that she wanted and asked for. Everything but a baby.

  * * *

  Dear God in heaven . . .

 
She started the prayer but lost the words. How had she been such a fool? It was all right there if she had just seen what was really in front of her instead of what she wanted to see and hear.

  Before the wedding she thought he had been asking if she was willing to have another baby. She was, and she was willing to try and see what blessings God would bestow on them. Yet that wasn’t what he had been asking her at all. And then after the wedding, when he brought her to her room. That should have been enough to warn her right there, but she thought he was just giving her time to adjust to their new arrangement. It wasn’t like they had to jump in. They were married for life and had all the time in the world, God willing. Baby Grace was only a few months old. They could wait a bit. Maybe court after marriage and get to know one another better. But he hadn’t wanted to go anywhere with her but church, and she spent most of her time caring for the baby and making sure the boys stayed out of mischief, which completely made it nothing like courting.

  Lord, forgive me for thinking of Your holy church that way. Amen.

  That wasn’t really how she meant it. She just meant that the one time she did go somewhere with Matthew it was to church, and that wasn’t courting at all. That should have been a warning to her. Yet once again she had seen only what she wanted to see and heard only the things that fit into her own reality. He hadn’t wanted to go to any events with her. He hadn’t even wanted to go to the doctor with her.

  Or had he been using her to take care of things so he didn’t have to?

  The idea was staggering. She was nothing more than a nanny and a housekeeper. No wonder she stayed in the room off the kitchen like some Amish Cinderella. He had tried to tell her and she hadn’t listened. She had no one to blame but herself.

  But today, things were going to change.

  She checked the mirror to make sure her appearance was as perfect as possible. Not one hair out of place, prayer kapp set in the proper way. Dress clean, apron clean, and ready to face the day.