Emma Blooms At Last (12 page)

O
n Monday morning, Emma got up a little earlier than usual and paid particular attention to looking her best. Even though she was wearing black from her kapp to her shoes, she wanted Sam to believe she was ready to move past her mamm's death and work at the mercantile. It seemed she'd spent the weekend watching the clocks and wondering why their hands didn't move. Maybe Dat was right. Maybe it was time to look ahead rather than staying stuck in a rut of sorrow, and with Abby sewing at home and James resuming the livestock chores, Emma wouldn't have as many tasks to occupy her time.

And maybe Jerome would find her more interesting—more compatible with his progressive ways—if she proved she could handle working at the mercantile. Images of his handsome face and kind smile had been on her mind a lot these past couple of days. Emma regretted the fuss she'd made on Friday, when he'd encouraged her to join the Brubakers for another quilting frolic. He'd had her best interests at heart. Everyone did.

Emma went downstairs determined to begin this day with a better attitude. She had to believe God's plan for her life included something other than suffering and loss, something to make her look forward rather than back.

She was turning the bacon in the skillet when Abby came into the kitchen. Emma smiled, hoping her new sister-in-law would go along with her decision. “I'm heading over to the store after breakfast to see about starting work for Sam,” she said. “I think it's time to give it a shot before he hires somebody else.”

Abby's eyebrows rose, but then she smiled. “If you think you're ready, Sam'll be glad to have you. Your dat and I will get along just fine.”

Emma thought she detected a hint of wistfulness in Abby's answer. “It's a big switch for you, not being amongst the customers all day,” she remarked as she took the skillet from the burner. “I wish we could work there together.”

Abby shrugged. “Sam's made his decision. I still think he'll want me to come back when the store gets busier, but now that I'm married
and
mourning your mamm, that's two reasons for him to find somebody else, ain't so? God'll show us all the path we're to travel.”

Dat seemed inclined to sleep in, so after a quick breakfast with James and Abby, Emma put on her coat and bonnet. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she walked across the county blacktop to the mercantile. Knowing Sam and Gail would most likely be stocking shelves at this hour, before the store opened, Emma slipped in the back door to the workroom. Her heart pounded as she called out, “Sam? It's Emma.”

She peered out into the main store, which was dimly lit with only a few of the gas fixtures burning. Sam was standing across the huge room, hefting bags of sidewalk salt into display bins. “Gut morning, Sam!” she spoke out. “You're already hard at work, I see.”

The storekeeper turned, his eyes widening when he recognized her. “Emma—gut morning. Is everything all right over at your place?”

“Jah, with Abby and James living there now, we're as right as rain, for the most part,” she replied. “I—I was wondering if you still want me to work. Abby said it would be in the back room, most likely, and that suits me fine—
if
you still want—”

“Happy to hear it.
Real
happy.” He tossed the bag of salt from his shoulder into the bin and approached her with a smile. “We got behind on the bookkeeping last week, so I'll bring out the ledgers and the receipts, and we'll look at them together. You're an answer to a prayer, Emma.”

She smiled. Sam's remark was a fine start for a new day, a new week . . . a new chapter in her life. She hung her wraps on a peg in the workroom, and a few moments later they were seated at a small table surrounded by big bins of rolled oats, noodles, baking mixes, and other staples. Emma had always liked this room because it smelled like the sugar, spices, and herbs they scooped into plastic bags before they stocked the shelves with them.

“Gail's running late,” Sam said as he opened the big black accounting book. “She says she's helping Barbara clean up after breakfast and getting Ruthie ready for school, but I suspect she's flirting with Eddie Brubaker. Having him stay at the house while he's painting the store is a practical arrangement, but it changes the family dynamic a bit.”

Emma chuckled. And wasn't it good that something tickled her? “Eddie's cute, so I'm not surprised Gail's sweet on him,” she remarked. “He's a gut worker, too. I didn't realize how faded our walls were looking until he painted the kitchen and Abby's sewing room—even if James chose a bright yellow that almost makes me squint.”

“Eddie's a fine young man,” Sam agreed. He opened a shoe
box full of folded cash register receipts and removed a lined tablet, a small calculator, and a couple of pencils. “Here's how we keep track of each day's receipts and whether customers paid cash or used credit cards,” he began.

Emma nodded, following his finger along the columns in the ledger . . . listening carefully as Sam explained the accounting system he had probably learned from his dat as a young man. “This isn't much different from the way James's books are set up,” she said, “except folks pay him larger amounts for fewer items.”

Sam raised his face to the ceiling. “Thank you, Lord,” he murmured happily. “Gail gets flummoxed at the sight of all these figures. By the time she's recalculated each day's totals and she's gotten a different number each time, she throws up her hands.”

“Jah, these daily cash register tapes are pretty long,” Emma said as she unfolded one, “but your system makes sense to me.”

“Glad to hear it.” Sam glanced up as Gail and Eddie came through the back door, laughing and pink cheeked from the cold. “Look who's here—our new bookkeeper,” he said.

“Oh, but it's gut to see you!” Gail exclaimed as she hugged Emma's shoulders. “I'll be real quiet while I'm bagging up baking supplies on the big table. I'm
so
glad you're taking over the books, Emma.”

“Once you've got us caught up on the receipts, I'll show you how to handle the inventory and ordering,” Sam went on. He looked at Emma as though considering what to say next. “While I'd be ecstatic to have you working every day, I know that'll be an adjustment for you.”

“And I really should be at home whenever James and Abby leave for their weekend visits,” Emma pointed out. “Dat had a little spell yesterday afternoon. Woke up from a nap, and it took him a while to recall that Mamm wasn't there, and that the newlyweds have moved into his bedroom upstairs.”

“That's bound to happen, after so many changes in his routine,” Sam murmured. “You've got a lot on your mind, Emma. How about if we have you come in early like this, on weekday mornings, and before you go home for dinner at noon, we'll decide whether you need to—or want to—come back each day? I don't want you to feel overwhelmed so soon after your mamm's passing.”

Emma swallowed the lump that threatened to rise into her throat. “That's kind of you, Sam.”

“Well, it's also the way Vernon suggested we do things while you're in mourning,” he replied. “It's not proper for you to be working amongst the customers, especially with so many English coming in for holiday shopping. I hope I'll get some responses to my help-wanted ads, so we'll have more sales help soon.”

“Me, too,” Gail added as she began scooping rolled oats into gallon-size plastic bags. “Even with Grandma helping, we're stretched pretty thin.”

Emma nodded. “Jah, it'll take more than one person to replace Abby.”

“So she's told me,” Sam said with a laugh. “But that's my problem, and I'm glad you're here to be part of the solution, Emma. The
Ordnung
has its rules about women working for a gut reason, and Cedar Creek's a better church district all around if we abide by them.” He stood up and stretched, glancing at the wall clock. “I'll leave you to your book work now. You know where to find me if you have questions.”

When Sam and Eddie left the workroom, Emma chatted with Gail for a moment before she turned back to the ledger. Some of the entries had been made in Abby's neat, distinct printing, and some were in Sam's smaller script. She was in good company, keeping the accounts for this well-respected family business.
I hope my best work will be gut enough,
Emma thought as she found
the oldest cash register tape. It dated back to early last week, before Sam had closed the store to officiate at Mamm's funeral, so she had a lot of days to catch up on.

She was feeling useful, and she was helping Sam after he'd done so much for her family of late. That was something to be thankful for as she faced this first winter and the holidays without her mother.

Better days are surely ahead,
she told herself as she began to tap the calculator's keys.

“E
verybody tucked in?” Jerome asked as he peered into his rig. It was the Saturday of the second quilting frolic, and he'd left Bloomingdale before daylight to fetch Eddie and the Grabers. “Extra blankets are in the bin under the seats, if anybody needs one.”

“Eddie and I are gut to go!” Merle replied from the back. “What with the newlyweds off on another gift visit this weekend, I'm happy to be running the roads, too.”

“And I'm glad to get off the ladder for a couple days,” Eddie joined in. “I lost track of the cans of paint I went through this week, but the upstairs of the mercantile's nearly done.”

“That's a huge job,” Jerome remarked as he climbed into the driver's side. “I bet Sam's happy to have you sprucing up his store.”

The teenager chuckled. “Sam's busier than all get-out now that Abby's not there,” he quipped. “All the Christmas stuff's coming in and getting snatched up practically before he and Gail
can put it on the shelves. I'm glad I'm just painting instead of helping them run that place.”

As he clucked at his mules, Jerome smiled over at Emma. She met his gaze for a moment, yet she seemed withdrawn . . . paler than usual, all wrapped up in her black winter coat and bonnet. “Whatever's in that pot you brought along smells awfully gut,” he said.

Emma shrugged. “Nothing special. Chili.”

“The pan'll be licked clean, then. Our bunch can go through a lot of chili,” Jerome replied. “Everybody's real excited about you and your dat spending the day with us. Vera and Lizzie set up the long table last night, and the first quilt's already in the frame. The little girls made sugar cookies with Jemima yesterday, too. Does Abby have any idea what you and your dat're doing today?”

“Nope.”

Jerome listened as Merle chatted with Eddie about who-all he'd met in the mercantile as he painted. What would it take to get Emma out of her shell? “How's it going, having Abby and James living there now?”

“Fine.”

Was Emma missing her mamm today? Or was she resentful about the way Amanda and Merle had gotten her out of the house against her will? Maybe a different topic . . .

“I took Amanda's dishes over to Sam's before I came to your place—the set of sixteen he and Vernon ordered, with serving pieces,” Jerome went on. “I think Abby and James will like Amanda's new pottery style. The way the cobalt glaze seeps from the edges into the rusty brown centers makes every piece a little different.”

Emma's eyes rose. “We've
got
plenty of dishes—but I'm sure Amanda's are really pretty,” she added quickly.

Now
there
was a comment he wouldn't share with Amanda, because his aunt had truly enjoyed crafting that set of dishes. As
they rolled down the county highway, Jerome hoped Emma's mood wouldn't spoil the other girls' fun today. For the rest of the trip he chatted with the two fellows behind him—mostly about the potential girlfriends Eddie was meeting on the job, while Merle gave his wry commentary about their families and personalities.

While Eddie and her dat were chatting, Emma yawned and then glanced over at Jerome. “I'm sorry I got snippy,” she murmured. “I'm kind of tired because I, um, worked in the mercantile every day this week.”

When a little grin flickered on her lips, Jerome grabbed her hand. “And how did that go? If you were on your feet all those hours, no wonder you're worn out.”

“I worked in the back room, updating Sam's ledger,” Emma clarified. “And I bagged some baking supplies so Gail could restock the shelves. Sam's showing me how to make out orders now. My mind's still spinning with all this new information after I go to bed, but one of these days I'll get back to sleeping like I should.”

Jerome's heartbeat sped up. Emma did look like she could use some more rest, yet she seemed a lot happier than she'd been the last time he saw her. “Gut for you,” he murmured as he steered the mule up the lane toward Amanda's house. “When you're ready to tell me more about your new job, I want to hear all about it.”

When they arrived at the Brubaker place, Wags greeted them with boisterous barking. Simon and the twins rushed outside to grab Merle by the hands. Vera and Lizzie exclaimed over seeing Emma as Amanda held the door open for everyone.

“Ach, we've been so busy getting the fabric and food ready, I had no idea it was snowing,” she said as she peered outside. “Gut thing Wyman's elevator foundation got poured this past week.”

Jerome let everyone else precede him inside, and then he
spoke near Amanda's ear. “Emma's got some big news, but I'll let her share it,” he murmured. “And don't be surprised if she curls up for a nap later today.”

“At least she still wanted to come,” Amanda replied as their guests hung up their coats. “Emma can let Vera and Lizzie do the talking and just sew along with us if she's tired. But would you look at her dat!”

Jerome had to laugh. Merle had scooped Alice Ann up to his shoulder while Simon and the twins led him eagerly to the corner of the front room, where the card table was set up for playing Chutes and Ladders.

“I'm gonna be red!” Dora crowed.

“I'm yellow,” Cora chimed in as the two little girls shared a chair.

“I wuv pink,” Alice Ann chirped as Merle sat down and settled her in his lap.

Merle's face was lit up like a Christmas candle. He kissed the toddler's cheek. “That leaves the green and blue markers for us guys, Simon,” he said. “You pick.”

“Green means
go
, so that's gotta be me!” the boy replied. “I'll be climbing all the ladders and skipping all the chutes, so the game's already in my pocket.”

“If you're so sure I'm going to lose, you'd better have a little mercy and let me make the first move,” Merle teased as he spun the spinner.

Amanda chuckled fondly as she watched them from the kitchen. “He can be the grandfather they never had, ain't so?”

“He's the perfect man for that job,” Jerome agreed. “Abby and James's kids will never lack for attention, either, as long as he's around.” He watched Jemima add the last of her chopped vegetables to a soup pot, inhaling the aroma of the bread she'd baked
that morning. “I'll stay out of you ladies' way now, or you might put a needle and thread into
my
hands—and that would make for a disastrous quilt.”

“I'm sure we'll see you come time for dinner,” Jemima remarked from the stove.

“Wouldn't miss it.” Jerome passed through the front room, smiling at Vera, Lizzie, and Emma as they were choosing which colorful fabrics to cut for their second quilt. Then he paused beside the card table to observe the progress of the Chutes and Ladders game. When Alice Ann threw him a kiss, Jerome bussed the top of her blond head. He patted Wags, who was lying near the woodstove, and then went upstairs to work on some bookkeeping.

Jerome opened his ledger but didn't focus on the figures. The quilting table was beneath his room, and because talk drifted up through the open grate in the floor along with the woodstove's warmth, he heard the thrum of female conversation.

“You'll never guess what I've done,” Emma spoke up during a brief lull. “I'm working in the back room of Sam's store, doing his bookkeeping and bagging up baking supplies.”

When the other quilters exclaimed in surprise, Jerome chuckled. Everyone began asking Emma questions at the same time. She sounded more awake now and seemed tickled to be working—and he was pleased for her.

If she's overcoming her shyness enough to work at the store, maybe she won't be so skittish around me. But now that she's got a regular job, it won't be as easy to find time when she can go out, either.

He would find a way. Jerome considered himself pretty resourceful when it came to convincing young women to spend time with him, and Emma was certainly worth his best efforts.

When he heard laughter outside, he went to the window. Wyman was running errands this morning, so Pete and Eddie had
decided to go deer hunting—this wooded Bloomingdale farm offered a better opportunity than they'd had in Clearwater. It was good to see the brothers walking side by side with their bows tucked under their arms. The vapor of their breath floated around their stocking-capped heads as they caught up with each other's news after a week apart. No one else hunted on this property, so if they were quiet and watchful, they stood a good chance of getting a deer.

Jerome went downstairs for coffee—but mostly to steal a glance at Emma. She sat between Vera and Lizzie, carefully cutting a stack of fabric with a circular blade as she followed the lines of her paper pattern. Nibbling on a frosted sugar cookie in the kitchen, he watched the set of her jaw as she concentrated . . . the swift, efficient motion of her hands as she made each cut. Even clothed in black, Emma looked like a late-summer rose: her skin was dewy soft and pale pink, her lips were a delectable shade darker, and her eyebrows were an expressive brown.

Once again dreams of settling down and starting a family taunted him. Twice before he'd believed he'd found the right woman—and twice he'd walked away. Why was he now so drawn to Emma Graber? Was he interested in her as a potential mate, or only because her determination to deflect his attentions presented a new challenge?

Jerome resisted the urge to strike up a conversation with her. Without interrupting the hen party, he headed back upstairs with fresh coffee and another cookie. As he passed the quilting frame, he caught Aunt Amanda's knowing wink: she and Jemima were hand stitching the quilt with the colorful flower baskets on it. Jerome immersed himself in updating his business records for a while . . . Then he heard the back door open, followed by the rapid thump of stocking feet on the stairway.

“Jerome, can you help us?” Pete called out breathlessly.

“Jah, Pete got a really nice deer!” Eddie's cheeks were flushed with cold and excitement as the boys stood in the doorway. “We got it field dressed, but we need to haul it out of the woods.”

“Sounds a lot more interesting than this book work.” Jerome clapped Pete on the shoulder. “We can take it right over to the locker, and it'll make some mighty fine eating this winter. See there? You're putting food on the table without having to quit school for a job.”

Pete rolled his eyes. “Jah, well, I guess Dat and I had
that
discussion already.”

The boys shared the details of their hunting adventure with Merle, the kids, and the quilters while Jerome put on his heavy coat and boots. He kicked himself for bringing up the subject of Pete's leaving school, but after they hitched a wagon to a draft mule and started across the snowy field toward the woods, Jerome got an idea.

“What if I paid you to take over the daily chores with my mares and donkeys?” he asked. “Now that the mule foals are here, I'll have my hands full, so it would be gut if someone else tended—”

“Don't go making up a new job, trying to humor me,” Pete interrupted brusquely. “Truth be told, I'm fed up with school because Teacher Dorcas and I don't see eye to eye. Teacher Elsie was a pill, but I knew what I could get by with in Clearwater and . . . I'm just ready to be out of the schoolroom and doing something
real
.”

Jerome recalled feeling that way, too. He also remembered when Lizzie had gone through a tough time changing schools, those first weeks after her family had moved to Clearwater. When they located the downed buck, however, they turned all their energy to hefting it into the wagon. On the way to the processing plant, the boys gave Jerome a moment-by-moment account of how
they'd heard movement in the bushes and Pete had gotten in a perfect shot without having much time to take aim.

By the time they returned home, the snow was coming down in thick, flat flakes. Jerome sent Eddie and Pete inside to see if Jemima had left them something for lunch while he unhitched the mule. As he rolled the wagon back into place, he spotted the old sleigh that had belonged to Amanda's first husband, his uncle Atlee. Could he convince Emma to go riding with him? The hills were covered in a perfect, pristine blanket of fresh powder . . .

Jerome set aside that happy thought. When Emma saw how the snow was coming down, she'd probably insist on heading home to Cedar Creek. Maybe some other time this winter he could talk her into taking that sleigh ride. In his mind's eye, he saw the two of them snuggling together beneath the blankets, with only the clip-clop of hooves punctuating the silence of a perfect winter evening. He wanted to hold Emma close and kiss her, out where none of the kids would spot them and make a fuss.

Jerome sighed. Even though Emma seemed more confident now, he had a lot of persuading to do before
that
would ever happen.

*   *   *

E
mma stood up to stretch, surprised at how quickly the day had passed. While she'd been engrossed in sewing, she'd felt closer to her mamm and more grateful for the Brubakers' company than she'd anticipated. Lizzie had taken the kids outside to run off some energy, so she and Vera were clearing away fabric scraps and stacking their finished squares. Amanda and Jemima had gone to the kitchen to start supper.

“We made gut progress today,” Vera remarked. “Now that most of our nine-patch squares are sewn together, we'll only need another day or two to finish this second quilt top.”

“I'm really glad I got to work it, too,” Emma replied. “I was
ready to work with pretty colors after concentrating on columns of numbers all week.”

After they stashed the table in a closet, Emma and Vera joined the others in the kitchen. As they began setting the table for supper, Emma watched her dat lifting pot lids and sniffing appreciatively while Jemima was nice enough not to scold him for it. Even though he hadn't had a nap all day, he looked alert and very much at home.