The Amish Bride (13 page)

After collecting the mail and mailing her package, Ellen continued on to the Mennonite family restaurant. She just wanted to say hi to Gail if she was there. Check on her. She propped the scooter against the porch and started up the steps. As she reached the door, it swung open, and Gail nearly collided with her.

“
Ach!
I’m so sorry,” Gail said. Her cheeks reddened. She wasn’t in her waitress uniform and was wearing the same clothing she’d had on when Ellen had surprised her on her back porch.

“Good morning,” Ellen said. “Are you off today?”

“
Nay.
No,” Gail corrected. “They don’t need me until later.”

“Have you found a place to stay yet?”

Gail shook her head. “Not yet, but I know I will soon.” She glanced back at the restaurant. “You aren’t going to say anything to Margaret about me sleeping on your porch, are you?”

Ellen shook her head. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but...where
did
you stay last night?”

“With a friend,” Gail said quickly. But she averted her eyes, and Ellen wasn’t sure she believed her.

“You know, you might talk to Margaret. Her church helps people sometimes.”

Gail shook her head and backed away. “I don’t want charity. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” She forced a half smile. “I know you mean well, but really, I’m
goot
. I can take care of myself.” She turned away and waved. “Have a good day.”

“You, too,” Ellen called. And then, under her breath, she murmured a prayer for Gail and all the vulnerable young women like her.

Chapter Twelve

F
riday evening, Micah arrived to pick Ellen up, said all the right things to her father and had her mother laughing and blushing like a fourteen-year-old before they drove out of the yard. Ellen had looked forward to the bowling expedition from the moment Micah had invited her. Bowling dates for twentysomething young people were not exactly encouraged but were allowed by the church elders so long as they were group activities. Mennonite parents in the neighborhood regularly took their children to bowling alleys for birthdays and other special occasions, but it was rare that Amish families participated. Ellen’s father had been an exception, and she’d gained some proficiency and a love for the sport by going with him when she was a teenager.

“You look pretty tonight,” Micah said as he guided Samson out onto the blacktop at the end of Ellen’s lane.

She murmured a thank-you and sat up tall on the leather seat, pleased that she’d worn one of her newest dresses, a modest, pine-green dress and a matching green headscarf. She wasn’t trying to look English, but knew that she’d attract less attention from strangers than she would if she wore her prayer
kapp
. She’d brought twenty dollars in a plain black purse, a precaution she’d taken after Neziah had once forgotten his wallet and they’d had to convince the English manager of a pizza restaurant that he would return the following day with enough money to pay the bill for their refreshments. That had been more than ten years ago, but the memory of Neziah’s and her own embarrassment remained vivid in her mind.

A mile from the house, Micah reached under the front seat, pulled out a battery-operated radio and tuned in to a Christian rock station. Ellen knew she should have scolded him. She was a baptized member of the church, and listening to the radio, no matter what station was playing, was definitely forbidden by the community. Music, other than hymns and
praise songs
sung without accompaniment, was forbidden as being too worldly. But Micah wasn’t baptized yet, so officially, he was still in his
running around
stage.

Rumspringa
was the time in a young person’s life when they were permitted to experience some of the English lifestyle. A few kids—mainly boys—took it too far, getting driver’s licenses and buying motor vehicles, even moving away to sample a reckless lifestyle among the English. Micah hadn’t done that, and he was studying for baptism, so chastising him for the radio might make her appear too strict.

Those were the excuses that rose in Ellen’s mind, and she almost convinced herself that they were good ones. But she’d never been one to be less than honest with herself, and the truth was, the beat was really catchy, and she enjoyed the guitar, drums and whatever other instruments were accompanying the male singers.

“Great song, isn’t it?” Micah asked as the final notes rang out from under the seat. Before she could answer, a young woman’s voice began another song, every bit as enthusiastic and exciting as the first one. “That’s Myra Grace. She’s terrific, isn’t she?”

This music was a long way from the spirituals sung at youth singing frolics, and further still from the
Deitsch
hymns that played such an important part of the Sabbath worship services. But she couldn’t deny that this Christian rock thrilled her and filled her with emotion.
“Wonderbor,”
she said, and meant it.

“So you like it? For real?” Micah asked. He patted the seat next to him. “You could sit a little closer, you know. I don’t bite.”

She shook her head and laughed. “I’m fine where I am.”

Micah guided his horse to the shoulder of the road as an oversize truck carrying farm machinery approached. “We’re picking up Abram and Linny,” he said. “Do you mind?”

“Nay.”
She didn’t know Linny well. She was much younger and belonged to another church district, but she’d seemed pleasant enough when Ellen had met her at a farm auction recently. “So, Abram is walking out with Linny now?” she asked him. “I thought he and Saloma—”

“Oh, Saloma’s coming, but with Marvin Yordy and another couple from Marvin’s church district. Abram likes Saloma well enough, but he’s still dating different girls. Abram’s a long way from settling down yet. He’s a few years younger than me.”

“Are you certain you’re ready?” she asked. He glanced at her with a slow, heartfelt smile and nodded. “Even if it means giving up your radio and cell phone?” she reminded him.

One blond eyebrow shot up. He pushed his hat back and asked, “How did you know I had a cell phone?”

Ellen laughed, folding her arms and replying, “Hershey Park. You told me.”

Micah grimaced. “Right.” Then he shrugged and grinned.

He was trying to charm her and Ellen knew it, but he was hard to resist. Life with Micah would always be full of laughter and fun. She could almost picture a small boy or girl with Micah’s dimple and bright, inquisitive eyes. He was a good uncle to Neziah’s sons, and he would make an excellent father, if a bit indulgent. Micah was slow to anger and quick to forgive. She’d have to be a fool not to let herself love him.

The clatter of hooves alerted Ellen to the approach of another horse-drawn vehicle coming up behind them. When she glanced in a side mirror, she saw an open courting buggy pulled by a gray horse. After a moment or two, the topless buggy’s sole occupant reined his horse to the left lane, drew alongside and passed them, his showy gray stepping high. Ellen recognized the driver as one of Solomon Schwartz’s sons, maybe Jonah. It was difficult to tell which one it was at a brief glance. There were several brothers of running-around age, all about the same height and all with longish bowl haircuts. The Schwartz boys took turns using the open buggy and driving the fine gray mare. Everyone knew that she was fast, and the Schwartzes were fond of saying that she had been a winning pacer before being sold at an auction when she grew past racing age.

Micah frowned as the open buggy passed them. “Show-off,” he muttered.

As horse and driver pulled back in line ahead, the Schwartz boy turned, grinned and waved at Micah before turning on a string of blue-and-red lights that flashed on the back frame.

It was definitely Jonah, Ellen decided. She rolled her eyes. “Juvenile.” She looked over at Micah. “Seriously,” she continued. “Joining the church will make a lot of changes in your life. Are you sure you’re prepared for it?”

“I’ll be sure the day you agree to marry me.” Micah’s eyes narrowed, and he urged Samson to move a little faster. They quickly closed the distance to the rear of the buggy ahead of them.

“Micah,” she warned. “Don’t get too close.”

He caught her hand and squeezed it, but he didn’t take his gaze off the flashing lights and rolling buggy just ahead. “You mean everything to me, Ellen. It’s what I want. You as my wife, baptism, a life that has meaning.”

She gauged the distance between Samson’s nose and the string of blinking lights. Micah’s horse wasn’t happy, because his ears were back and he was leaning forward in the harness. “Don’t do anything foolish,” she murmured. “This is a busy road.”

“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I’d never take chances with you in the buggy.” He was saying all the right things, but his expression was exactly the same as it had been the day one of the sixth-grade boys had dared him to walk the ridgepole of the bishop’s barn, two stories up.

“And you think we can be happy together, live according to our faith, make our families content?”

“I do,” Micah answered. “If I didn’t, I’d never have agreed to my father’s proposition. I’ve been waiting for a woman like you, a wife, children, responsibilities. We’re a lot alike, you and me. And you’re steady. We’ll make a
goot
match.” He hesitated. “I know that you and Neziah...you know.” He shrugged and glanced at her. “Anyway, he’s probably a better man than I am, but he’s too serious for you. Being Amish, living Plain, doesn’t mean we can’t still enjoy ourselves, does it?”

“Nay,”
she agreed. “It doesn’t.”

“Goot!”
With a triumphant grin, he slapped the reins over Samson’s back and reined the horse left, surprising Jonah and quickly gaining on the open buggy ahead of them.

“Micah!” Ellen braced herself against the front dashboard as one of their wheels hit a pothole, and the buggy jolted hard enough to make her fly an inch off the seat.

“Get up!” Micah shouted, and Samson’s head went up and his stride lengthened. “Hold on tight!” In barely a minute, Micah’s horse inched up and then drew nose to nose with the gray mare.

Jonah’s eyes widened in surprise as he saw them passing him. Grabbing his long buggy whip, he snapped it through the air over the mare’s withers. The gray leaped ahead, and the race was on.

Ellen knew she should be protesting, insisting that Micah stop this nonsense, but she found the race thrilling. Seemingly evenly matched, the two horses stretched out, hooves pounding the pavement. First one buggy edged ahead, and then the gap narrowed between them before the other took the lead. “Faster! Faster!” Ellen cried, her heart pounding with excitement. “Go, Samson!”

Wheels spinning, buggies rocking from side to side, they pounded through an intersection. Two Amish teenage boys, waiting at the stop sign on the left side of the crossroad, waved and whooped excitedly at the horse race. Jonah, on Ellen’s right, stood in the two-wheel open carriage, reins in both hands, yelling encouragement to his gray mare.

Fifty yards, a hundred, and finally Jonah’s horse seemed to be tiring. Inches, and then by a head, and finally a length, Samson pulled ahead. Far down the road, Ellen caught sight of a blue garbage truck. “Micah, rein in. There’s a truck coming!”

Jonah saw the truck at almost the same time. He pulled back on the leathers, slowing the gray so that Micah could safely pull into line ahead of him. Micah eased Samson’s pace to a slower one, and by the time the English vehicle passed them, the two buggies were proceeding at a steady pace.

Ellen sank back on the seat, exhilarated. “You won! Your Samson is faster than his gray.”

Micah looked at her and grinned as he turned to wave triumphantly at Jonah, who whooped and waved back good-humoredly. “Ellen Beachey! Listen to you,” Micah admonished. “And you’re supposed to be an example for other young women?” He glanced down at the toggle switch on the buggy dashboard. Mischief danced behind his intense blue eyes. “I dare you,” he challenged.

Ellen didn’t hesitate. Before she lost her nerve, she threw the switch that powered Micah’s string of battery-operated, flashing red-and-blue lights. She leaned far out and waved at Jonah. “Slowpoke! Dusteater!”

Micah roared with laughter and she couldn’t help joining in, laughing until tears ran down her cheeks.
Maybe he’s right,
she thought.
Maybe Micah is the one I belong with.

* * *

Hours later, Micah guided Samson up Ellen’s steep driveway. The house was quiet, lights out, with no sign of either of her parents. He reined in the horse in the deeper shadows of the oak trees at the edge of the yard and slid closer to her on the buggy bench. “Did you have a
goot
time tonight?” he asked her.

“I did.”

It was strangely intimate, just the two of them sitting so close in the buggy. The moon was up, and a blanket of stars glittered in the navy blue sky. “I did, too,” he said.

“You don’t mind that my score was higher than yours?”

“
Nay.
I’m proud of you.”

“The preachers tell us that pride is a bad thing.”

“Pride in one’s self, not for someone else’s accomplishments. Besides, we beat everyone, didn’t we? We left them in the dust.”

She laughed. “Like Jonah and his gray mare.”

“Exactly.” He chuckled and slid an arm around her waist. Ellen leaned close, so close that he thought he smelled the scent of her shampoo. Peaches. Happiness surged up in his chest, seeping through him from the crown of his head down to his toes. Samson shook his head, and the harness jingled. Micah could imagine that this was
their
home and they were coming home together after a frolic or visiting friends. Being with Ellen made him content, made him eager to join the church community and join in marriage.

He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning her face toward his, and bending to kiss her.

“Nay.”
She pressed two fingers to his lips. “It’s not seemly that we behave this way.”

He let out a slow breath. “You want to kiss me, don’t you?”

“
Jah
, I do,
and that’s all the more reason we should show restraint
.
” She gently took his hand and lowered it.

“You’re not a girl, Ellen,” he said. “We’re old enough to know our own minds. I’d never do anything that would shame you.”

She sighed. “But
I
might. I care for you a great deal, Micah, but some things are best kept for marriage.”

Her voice was soft and sweet, no longer the teasing Ellen or the one so quick with a crisp comeback. The sound of it made him go all shivery inside. And maybe she was right. If he allowed himself to pull her into his arms, if he kissed her with all the pent-up emotion he felt, would he be able to remember what was proper for a courting couple and what went beyond what was decent?

“It’s all right,” he said, and his words came out deep and scratchy. “I like the idea of marrying a chaste woman, one who can teach our children by example the right way to live.” He chuckled. “But then again, maybe it would be better to share at least
one
kiss before we take our wedding vows. What if I’m a terrible kisser?”

She laughed. “I doubt that, and I doubt that you think so.”

“Would it be so dangerous? One good-night kiss between friends?”

She got down out of the buggy. He scrambled after her and found her hand again.

“Between friends might be harmless,” she told him, “but with a man I’m considering marrying, maybe more than I want to dare.”

“Other girls don’t consider a few harmless kisses so dangerous.”

“I’m not other girls.”

He nodded, knowing when she had the best of him. “I know you aren’t, Ellen. You’re special. And if you’ll marry me, I promise I’ll try to be the man you deserve.”