Emma Blooms At Last (20 page)

Emma found an instruction booklet for earflap caps that included a couple of other styles as well. What a treat it was to shop for yarn in such fresh colors! The basket on her arm was soon stuffed with variegated and solid skeins in neon pink, lime green, aqua, lavender, and bright white. She hoped Abby was right about people wanting her homemade hats, because she'd have to sell several of them to earn back what she'd be spending.

“You've got quite a collection of colors here!” Gail remarked as she rang up Emma's order. “I bet I know what you'll be doing this weekend.”

“Jah, you guessed it,” Emma replied. She didn't want to reveal her plans for these flashy colors, because everyone who crocheted had met up with patterns that didn't turn out the way they looked in the pictures. Even so, just imagining the different styles of hats she wanted to try made her itch to start one
right now
, instead of eating supper. And wasn't
that
something!

*   *   *

W
hen Abby and James stepped into the house early Sunday afternoon, after the threat of snow shortened their visit with cousins in Breckenridge, Abby felt a difference in the atmosphere. Although the skies were clouded over, Emma was humming while she took a rectangular pan of chocolate cake from the oven. A pot of heavenly smelling potato soup simmered on the stove. Merle was poring over the latest issue of the
Budget
at the kitchen table, reading snippets to Emma just as he'd once done with Eunice.

“This is a cozy scene,” James remarked as he hung up his coat. “What-all went on while Abby and I were away?”

“You didn't miss a thing,” Merle insisted.

Emma's lips twitched with a secretive grin. “You'll find out when you go upstairs to unpack.”

Abby nearly asked if Jerome had stopped by again, but Merle would have mentioned that. “I'm headed that way right now, and then I'll be down to help with dinner. Whatever you've got in the oven smells awfully gut.”

“I'll be right behind you, Abby-girl, so don't go hefting that box,” James said as he clapped his dat on the back. “The Graber cousins send their best—and they gave us enough linens to last the rest of our lives, I think. Sheets, kitchen towels, and even a quilt they said your mamm made years ago, Dat. They found it in a trunk and wanted you to have it.”

The catlike expression on Emma's face sent Abby upstairs while James and his father took a look at the old quilt. During the ride to and from their visit, Abby had wondered if Emma's fingers had been flying with her crochet hook, and the display on the bed made her gasp with surprise. Not only were four girls' hats laid out, but a large afghan with a wedding card on it was there as well.

Wishing you happiness for your life together, Abby and James. Denki for all you do for us, and for the way you encourage me. Much love, Emma.

“Ohhh,” Abby murmured as she unfolded the afghan. As she studied the intricate argyle pattern in red, blue, purple, green, and black, she realized that some of the squares were solid and some were half one color and half another—forming two triangles within the square—arranged to make the overall pattern. It had taken some time and Emma's close attention to make the design come out right.

The girls' hats made Abby giggle as she held them up. One was lavender with a big white flower and lime green leaves, while another was striped with alternating bands of variegated and solid aqua. The other two caps had earflaps—a bright pink one with a pig's face on top and a white one with a lamb's face. Abby popped
those two over her hands like puppets and hurried back down to the kitchen.

“Emma, these are too cute!” she exclaimed. “I'll take all of your hats to the store tomorrow, and I'm guessing these two with the faces will be gone before the day ends.”

“Oh, Abby, sometimes you carry on—”

“I'm not kidding! We've got nothing like this in the store!”

“I did have great fun making them,” Emma admitted. “I'll crochet more if you want them, maybe an aqua donkey and another pig. That one's the funniest.”

Abby hugged her best friend tight. “Denki so much for the beautiful afghan, too,” she murmured. “I've not seen that pattern anywhere, and the colors are so bold. I'm glad we're sisters now, Emma. You and your dat have made me feel so at home here.”

Emma eased away from her embrace but kept her hands on Abby's shoulders. “Sometime soon let's pack away Mamm's old dishes and put the ones Amanda made you in the kitchen cupboards,” she said. “It would be a shame to keep them boxed up, pretty as they are. I'm sorry I got so upset about them the other night.”

Abby sucked in her breath. “Oh, Emma, are you sure?”

“Jah. Let's do it.” Emma's hazel eyes glowed as she returned Abby's gaze. “Crocheting those hats was a great idea. While I worked, it was almost like Mamm was sitting beside me. I feel a lot better now—like I'm moving forward. What would I do without you, Abby?”

What a lovely sentiment, one she didn't want to diminish by replying with a snappy answer. Abby glanced toward the stove and the counter. “Chocolate cake and potato soup—treats that make a wintry night special. I can't wait to dig in!”

Emma reached for a long knife and went to the counter. “Actually, it's dark chocolate fruitcake bars, with candied cherries and
nuts and coconut. I thought it was time we enjoyed some Christmas goodies.”

Abby snatched the first bar that came out of the pan. The mouthful of warm, chewy goodness felt like the beginning of a much happier holiday than she'd anticipated after Eunice passed away. And for that she was very grateful.

A
s Jerome pulled his rig into the stable Sunday evening, he felt heavyhearted. He'd spent the day visiting with every family he knew around the Bloomingdale area, inquiring about whether they'd seen Pete, while Wyman had once again hunted for his son in Cedar Creek and Clearwater. This marked the fourth day of Pete's disappearance—far longer than any of them had anticipated. He wasn't looking forward to going inside without the teenager in tow.

When Jerome stepped into the kitchen, he was surprised to find Amanda there alone. Her face lit up for a moment and then fell again when she saw that he, too, was by himself.

“I stopped at every house for miles around,” he murmured, “but nobody has any idea about Pete. I'm really sorry.”

Amanda shrugged listlessly. “Wyman got the same report from Sam and Ray and the others out that direction. We must've really misread our boy, as far as how upset he was,” she replied
with a sigh. “Maybe it's time to notify the police. I—I've been praying that Pete's safe, rather than . . . out in the cold, hungry or maybe
hurt
or—”

“Going down that road only leads to troublesome assumptions, Aunt,” Jerome murmured as he rested his hands on her shoulders. “We're leaving it in God's hands, jah?”

“That's the better answer.” Amanda looked up at him with a stronger smile. “Did you get some supper someplace? We ate a littler earlier tonight so Wyman could take the kids out in the sleigh. It's a nice evening for that.”

“Gut. The little ones will have a fine time and lift their dat's spirits as well.”

“I'll warm you some of Vera's split pea soup. How about a sandwich to go with that?” Amanda said as she opened the refrigerator.

“And can I have a side of your advice as well?” Jerome eased into his place at the table, hoping a few moments alone with his aunt might help him see his future more clearly.

Her raised eyebrows made him chuckle. “And what's on your mind, dear? You've done all you possibly can, as far as looking for Pete, so—”

“It's about Emma.”

“Ah.” Amanda's expression wavered between curiosity and hopefulness as she ladled cold soup into a small pan. “I've got some pottery orders to deliver to Cedar Creek as well as pieces to sell in Sam's store, if that gives you a gut reason to see her again. From what you told me, your last visit went really well.”

“I'll take your pottery in for you, sure,” Jerome replied, wondering how to word his concerns. “But while I think my instincts are right this time, about Emma being a better match than either of my two earlier girls—”

“I agree with you there.”

“It struck me the other day that I don't have a lot to offer her,” he continued earnestly. “Sure, I can take Emma out, and I think I'm convincing her I'm a worthwhile kind of guy, but
then
what? Where's the proof that I can make a gut life for her?”

Amanda's brow furrowed. “Whatever do you mean, Jerome? You're a fine man with a gut business and a heart big enough to love young and old alike.”

“But where would we live, if indeed Emma would have me?” Jerome gave his aunt a moment to consider the ramifications beneath the surface of his plea. “If I were to move my mule-breeding business there to the Grabers', I'd need to build a much larger barn, and—”

“You don't want to live
here
?”

Amanda's question—her disappointment—pierced his heart. “Oh, it's not that at all,” he insisted. “But I'm pretty sure Emma would only come if she can bring her dat along . . . and as I count up the bedrooms, I run short. And while I'm glad Wyman and his kids have come here . . .”

“The house
is
awfully noisy and full now, compared to what we were used to,” Amanda agreed. “And while Merle would be happy to be surrounded by the kids' hubbub, Emma's quieter. More private.”

Jerome flashed Amanda a relieved smile. “Denki for understanding that, Aunt. I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful or unwilling to be here with you any longer.”

Amanda slid into the chair beside him and slung her arm around him. “I know better than that, Jerome. But there can be too many hens clucking in one kitchen, I think. And you deserve to rule your own roost as well.”

He chuckled, secretly pleased that she was knuckling his scalp like she'd done when he was a kid. “Jah, I've heard it said I can be pretty cocky. Emma's implied as much, more than once.”

“You're
confident
, but not to the point of being too proud or vain,” Amanda assured him. “And let's not forget that when I first married Wyman and we moved to Clearwater, I intended for this house—the whole farm—to be yours because it belonged to your uncle.”

Jerome's pulse thrummed as he gazed into Amanda's eyes. While they had discussed this subject before her marriage—before the Brubakers had decided to live here, rather than in Clearwater—he hadn't felt it was his place to bring it up again.

“You've been awfully gut about accepting the way all of our lives have changed these past couple of months,” his aunt went on in a firm voice, “so I want you to consider the bulk of this land as your own, Jerome. It's only fair—and it's not like Wyman will ever farm it, except to raise hay for the horses just as you already do.”

“You're sure he'll agree with that?” Jerome quizzed her. No sense in getting his hopes up, knowing how her new husband saw things from a more traditional Old Order male perspective. “Wyman's the head of the household—”

“And I will always be the neck that turns the head,” Amanda teased, playfully tapping his chest with her finger. “I have no doubt that James and Merle—and Wyman and I—will help you with the money for a house, too.”

“Oh, I've got a gut start on the money part. It's knowing
where
to build a home that's been the holdup.” Jerome grasped Amanda's shoulders, smiling excitedly. “You have no idea how many doors this opens for me, Aunt! Your telling me these things is the best Christmas gift ever.”

“Glad to hear it. I'd better stir your soup before it scorches.”

As she rose from the table, Jerome silently thanked God for the way this conversation had changed his entire outlook. The large bowl of soup Amanda set in front of him made him inhale
appreciatively, and as she sat down beside him to make his sandwich, he smiled gratefully at her. “Can I ask you something more? Something . . . women understand better than guys do?”

Once again her eyebrows rose expressively. “This is
you
, asking me how to handle women?” she teased.

Jerome let out a short laugh. “I used to think I knew what I was doing,” he confessed, “but with Emma, well . . . after she gave Bess Wengerd a piece of her mind and then went on that sleigh ride with me . . .”

“She came back with rosy cheeks and a big smile,” Amanda recalled. “I thought you'd won her over, for sure.”

“Me, too, until—until I asked if I could kiss her. She said
no
.” Jerome sighed. “I was making progress with her on Friday, too, but Merle walked in on us and she jumped away from me.”

What had his love life come to, that he was making such an inglorious confession to his aunt? It was fine to have the promise of land and a new home, but he wouldn't need those if Emma wouldn't kiss him.

Amanda slathered mustard on a slice of bread before arranging cold pork roast on it. “I know something about that, from Emma herself. But if I tell you this, Jerome, you
must
respect her feelings—keep this information to yourself—or you'll lose her,” she insisted. “Emma will be too embarrassed, too upset with you and me both, to ever see you again, I suspect.”

Jerome lowered his spoonful of soup back to his bowl. “All right. I'm listening.”

His aunt slowly drew the knife through his sandwich in an X, as she'd done when he was a boy. Then she looked into his eyes. “Emma has never been kissed, Jerome. She
wanted
to kiss you after your sleigh ride, but she was afraid she'd do it wrong and ruin her chances with you.”

His mouth dropped open, and then closed again. “You don't
say,” he rasped. He quickly reviewed crucial moments they'd spent together: the way Emma had seemed so afraid of him when they'd shopped; her refusal to kiss him after their sleigh ride; her hazel-eyed gaze as they'd shared a lemon bar but nothing more. “I can't believe the boys in Cedar Creek didn't take Emma the long way home after Singings and didn't introduce her to smooching in the seclusion of their rigs.”

Amanda slid his sandwich toward him. “A woman her age doesn't admit such a thing unless . . . unless she's every bit as concerned as
you
are about this relationship,” she said.

“Just one more thing Emma missed out on while she was waiting for Matt to notice her,” Jerome murmured.

“Even before they marry, girls are at the mercy of the men in their lives,” Amanda remarked pensively. “To me, this proves what a respectable, decent young woman Emma has always been. She just needs someone like you, Jerome, to show her how happy she can be . . . to show her how love can change her entire life.”

Jerome's breath escaped him in a rush. “Now you're scaring me, laying all the responsibility on
me
for—”

“Puh! Since when have you ever been afraid of a kiss?” Amanda's tone was light, yet she held his gaze as surely as she was holding him accountable for the secret she'd just revealed. “Emma's waiting for a gut man like you to help her become the woman and wife she was meant to be. It's all in how you handle it.”

His thoughts were spinning wildly. Jerome felt as though an invisible barrier had just been lifted, revealing his entire future.
Emma has never been kissed! She's not afraid of me—she's unsure of herself.
And didn't that fit with everything else he knew about the elusive young woman in Cedar Creek?

“If you need another reason for going there—besides to visit with Merle, of course,” Amanda said lightly, “Jemima and the girls have nearly finished the quilts we've been making for Abby and
James. Emma will want to see them, since she and her mamm helped piece the tops, and you can give them to the newlyweds while you're there as well. So, see? Pottery, quilts, and Merle. I've given you three reasons for visiting Emma again without making it seem like you're chasing her.”

“Not to mention land and a future home. Denki for the way you've always looked after me, Aunt.” Jerome grinned and grabbed a section of his sandwich. He believed he had a better chance of winning Emma's hand and heart now—and a lot more to offer her than he'd anticipated.