Emma Blooms At Last by Naomi King

theyard behind Abby’s small house, playing hide-and-seek with other young children. Abby’s niece, Ruthie Lambright, and her best friend, Beth Ann Yutzy, encouraged them to hurry and find new hiding spots, while Simon stood against the side of Abby’s home with his eyes covered. “Ten, eleven, twelve . . . ,” he called out in his husky little-boy voice.
    Why was it no surprise that Simon was peeking from beneath his hands, watching the kids hide? Rather than disrupt their game by allowing his son to spot him, Wyman turned toward some fellows who were loudly congratulating Merle Graber on his son’s marriage. “James looks mighty happy,” Titus Yutzy remarked.
    â€œAs well he might!” Merle crowed. “No finer girl in the world than our Abby, after all.”
    â€œSo now the countdown toward the grandkids begins,” Rudy Ropp remarked. The dairyman clapped James’s dat on the back as Preacher Abe Nissley guffawed.
    â€œAs well as the countdown to when Sam informs Abby she’ll no longer be clerking in the mercantile,” Abe added. “Won’t be the same, shopping there without her greeting us from her upstairs sewing nook.”
    Wyman considered this. Although it was a deeply ingrained Amish belief that wives should not work outside the home, Abe’s Beulah Mae ran Mrs. Nissley’s Kitchen and Rudy’s Adah worked several days a week at the Fisher Cheese Factory near Clearwater. His Amanda made her pottery at home, however, so she would be on the premises for him and the kids—just as she’d earned the family’s living at her wheel while taking care of her first husband during the illness that took his life.
    As Amanda came out of the Lambright house, her expression rivaled the brilliant afternoon sunshine. Wyman’s heart swelled as he went to meet her. His dear wife’s outlook had improved so much since they’d moved into her farmhouse in Bloomingdale.He was again reminded that God’s hand had led them there—and that the Lord would guide his dealings with Reece Weaver, no matter how disastrous his financial situation seemed.
    â€œHave I told you how your smile lights up my life?” he murmured as Amanda grabbed his hands.
    Her grin widened. “Would you look at
this
?” she said in an excited whisper. “Barbara was in the kitchen putting more food in the oven, when Sam fetched his checkbook, and she ordered a set of pie plates, mixing bowls, and a couple of pitchers for her Phoebe’s upcoming birthday,” she exclaimed. “Then Bessie Mast wanted some serving pieces, and Lois Yutzy ordered a salad bowl set for her sister—and she wants me to sell my work in Mother Yutzy’s Oven! Then Sam said that when I had
time
, he wants another display of my pieces in the mercantile. I had to make a list to keep all my orders straight!”
    She handed him a fistful of money and checks. Wyman’s eyebrows rose as he made a quick count. “This is incredible,” he murmured. “You’ve got more than five hundred dollars here.”
    â€œThese are just down payments, Wyman,” she said earnestly. “When I complete the orders, we’ll have that much more—plus what my new displays for Lois and Sam bring in later. And with Christmas coming, several other ladies in the kitchen said they’d be calling me with gift orders.”
    Although this pottery money was a drop in the bucket compared to what he’d need to complete his grain elevator, her giddiness was contagious. And Wyman couldn’t miss the way Amanda had said
we
.
    â€œYou’ll need to buy clay and glazes,” he reminded her, “so I don’t expect you to contribute to the household—”
    â€œPhooey on that! I still have the cash from the pottery that sold in the mercantile before Uriah Schmucker smashed the rest of it.” Amanda grabbed Wyman’s hands, crumpling