The Amish Bride (17 page)

“But you loved
Dat
and so you chose him.”

“
Jah.
Sometimes a woman must follow her heart. Logic said marry the man with the farm, but your
vadder
warmed my heart.”

“And you never doubted your choice?”

“
Nay
, never once. We have been happy together. Our greatest trouble was that I could not give him a houseful of sons and daughters. But he never blamed me. And he does not blame me now that my tongue says the wrong word and that I forget—”

A loud knock at the door interrupted her
mam
. “Ellen!”

“Coming, Micah,” she answered. Ellen leaned close and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“Is that Micah?” her
mutter
asked. “Is he looking for gingerbread? Tell him I’ll bake gingerbread tomorrow.”

“He’s taking me to work. To the shop.”

“Is your
vadder
going to the shop?”

Ellen shook her head. “He’s staying here with you. I’ll be late this evening.”

“Micah’s taking you?”

“Jah.”
Ellen removed her work apron and donned the starched one she wore at the store. “Just a second, Micah.” She hurried out onto the porch. “Just let me get my scooter.”

“Don’t bother,” Micah said. “I’m coming back for you.”

“But...we always take my scooter.”

“No need for it,” he said firmly. “I’m looking out for you now.”

* * *

As Micah guided Samson out of Ellen’s lane and onto the blacktop, she looked back toward the house. Micah was right. He was picking her up after work; she didn’t need her scooter. But not having it made her uneasy. They always took the scooter in the back of the buggy so that she’d have it if she wanted it. It wasn’t about needing the scooter so much as knowing it was there if she did need it. Or want it. It was silly of her, but the farther she got from home, the more the absence of the green scooter became like a thorn in her heel that she couldn’t pluck out. It was a dull ache she couldn’t dismiss.

If she was unusually quiet on the ride to Honeysuckle, Micah didn’t seem to notice. He was as entertaining as always, relating a story about an Amish farmer he’d met at the sawmill. There was no traffic on the road, and Samson was moving along at a good clip when raindrops began splattering on the horse’s back.

“See, it’s starting to rain.” Micah gestured toward the sky. “Wouldn’t you have been a fine sight riding home after dark in the rain on that scooter of yours?”

Ellen squirmed on the seat. Her distress was making her more uncomfortable by the moment. She didn’t want to be warm and dry and safe in the buggy with Micah; she wanted to be on her scooter. It made no sense. She didn’t know why she felt she’d been wronged when all Micah was doing was trying to take care of her, but that was exactly how she felt.

She’d heard other girls talk about wedding jitters. This must be what they meant. It was probably just the excitement of their pending announcement that was making her feel like she didn’t fit in her own skin. She hadn’t been herself since Saturday. She nibbled at her bottom lip, thinking about how excited she had been that morning, how eager she’d been to go to the apple frolic. She’d had a wonderful time, and the day had ended with the problem of her husband solved.

She should be relieved, she told herself. She should be elated that Neziah had made the decision of which brother to choose for her.

But then she thought about what her mother had said to her in the kitchen. Her words reverberated in Ellen’s head.
If Micah doesn’t make you feel that way, then maybe you’d better think some more.

Did
Micah make her feel
that way
? Was his face the last thing that came to mind before she fell asleep and the first thing she imagined when she opened her eyes in the morning?

She squeezed her eyes shut, not caring if she looked silly.

She loved Micah. She
did
.

But did she love him as a husband or a friend? And was part of the excitement having handsome, popular Micah court her? Had she been influenced by what everyone else thought? She loved him, but was she
in love
with him? Would she ever be?

The thought of her scooter sitting in the shed came to mind again and she opened her eyes. Suddenly, she realized it wasn’t the scooter she cared about, it was the fact that Micah didn’t understand how important her scooter was to her. How important her independence was to her. “Stop,” she said abruptly. “Micah, stop the buggy.”

“What?” He looked down the road and then glanced in the mirror. “What’s wrong? Did I miss something?”

“Please, Micah.” She bunched her skirt in both her hands and stared straight ahead at the wet pavement. This was crazy, but she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t ride another moment in the buggy. “Stop the horse. I have to get out.”

“What do you mean you have to get out? In the rain?”

She gripped the dashboard and got to her feet, even though the buggy was still rolling. “I mean it, Micah. Stop the horse or I’m jumping out.”

Micah reined in Samson and turned to her, his face flushed. “What’s wrong? Did I say something to upset you? Did I do something?”

“
Nay
, Micah, you didn’t. This isn’t your fault. Please know that. It’s mine. It’s me.” She reached out and gripped his upper arm and made herself meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, Micah, but I need to think. I have to be alone.”

“Is this about your scooter?” He was upset now. She could tell that he was fighting to control his annoyance. “If you want the scooter that bad, I’ll go back and—”

“It’s not the scooter. Not really.” Suddenly, her heart was pounding. “Oh, Micah, I think I’ve made a terrible mistake,” she murmured as much to herself as to him.

“What do you mean, a
mistake
?” His shocked blue gaze locked with hers. “About what?” he asked suspiciously.

He knew.

“I can’t marry you, Micah,” she blurted, tears filling her eyes. She didn’t want to hurt him, but to marry him would hurt him more someday. “I love you, but we’re not right for each other. I’m just so sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”

“What...what do you mean you can’t marry me? We’re perfect for each other.”

“
Nay
, we’re not.”

He looked away. “But I’ve told everyone we’re going to be married. I’ll look like a fool. What will I say to them?”

“That’s what matters to you? What others will say?” she asked him.

He looked at her. Blinked. “What?”

She shook her head. Now she was even surer of herself than she had been a minute before. “You can tell people the truth. Tell them that we decided that we were better friends than husband and wife.” She climbed down out of the buggy.

“Ellen, you can’t be serious,” he called down to her. “You can’t break up with me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said once more. Then, straightening her shoulders, she started walking the way they had come. Raindrops wet her face and cheeks and arms, but she didn’t stop. And she didn’t look back.

Chapter Sixteen

B
y the time Ellen reached the end of her parents’ lane, the spits of rain had turned to full-fledged raindrops, but if she squinted she was certain that it looked brighter to the west. The way the clouds were scudding overhead and the way the air smelled, it seemed to her that serious rain might miss them and the sun might come out. Either way, she’d made up her mind to go to the shop. If it cleared, she’d take her scooter. If it was going to rain, maybe she’d just take the buggy.

It was funny how it was Micah’s insistence that she leave her scooter behind that had brought her to the realization that she couldn’t marry Micah. She felt bad about the way she had broken the news to him; she knew she’d hurt him. But better to endure short-term pain than one that would stretch through years of marriage. Now Micah would be free to marry the woman God truly intended for him.

As she walked up her driveway she was surprised that thoughts of Neziah drifted through her head. She loved him. And not the way she had loved him as a young girl. She loved him for who he was now: a mature man, a father, a son, a brother.

Ellen fought back tears. What had she done? She’d made a mess of things, that was what. How could she have been so blind not to see it? She’d never stopped loving him and wondering how their courtship had gone wrong. It was Neziah whose plain face rose in her dreams... Neziah, whose fathomless, dark eyes touched a chord in her heart. But loving someone didn’t mean that you couldn’t live without him. Marriage had to be the coming together of
two
hearts and
two
minds.

But Neziah had been the one to reject her, she reminded herself.
Neziah
had decided she wasn’t the one for him.

So now she would have neither of the Shetlers. Maybe God’s plan for her had always been to remain unwed. This way, she could devote her life to caring for her parents. She wasn’t unhappy. It was a life full of joy. She had friends, her faith, her family and a job that she looked forward to going to. If she didn’t marry, she wouldn’t have children of her own, but that wouldn’t keep her from caring for other children. She could still help raise his little boys; she could volunteer to help other young mothers in her church. She could be content with the many blessings the Lord had bestowed on her.

Ellen continued trudging up the steep driveway, feeling older than thirty-three, wishing she’d been wiser, kinder. Micah hadn’t deserved the way she’d sprung her decision on him. She hoped he would forgive her and that they would continue to remain friends. She hoped Simeon wouldn’t be too disappointed with her. She didn’t know how she would explain things to her parents. But somehow, she would make them understand that she just couldn’t do it. It would be unfair to become Micah’s wife if her heart longed for Neziah. Of course, she couldn’t admit that to anyone, not even to her mother and father. That was too personal. They’d just have to accept her explanation that she’d decided not to marry. And they would accept it. They loved her unconditionally. No matter how they might wish she’d make another choice, they would support her decision.

What she’d done to Micah was awful, but going through with the courtship and wedding would have been worse. Marriage was forever. “God forgive me,” she murmured. She only hoped that whatever gossip their parting caused in the community, it would be directed at her and not him. Micah had done nothing wrong. And neither had Neziah, honestly. He had the right to say she wasn’t the wife for him, the same way she had the right to say Micah wasn’t for her.

As Ellen walked into the yard, headed for the shed where she kept her scooter, her mother came bustling toward her. “What are you doing?” She’d thrown an old apron over her head to protect against the rain and peered out from beneath it at Ellen.

“
Mam
, it’s raining. You shouldn’t be out in the rain,” Ellen admonished.

“Nonsense. Do you think I’ll melt? I’m not a sugar cake.” Her mother pulled the apron off her head and tugged her blue scarf in place over her gray hair. As always, her bun was secure and not a pin was out of place, a skill Ellen had never learned. “Didn’t I see you ride away in Micah’s buggy? I thought he was driving you to church service.”

“Nay,”
Ellen replied gently. “It’s not the Sabbath. Micah came to drive me to the craft shop.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “So why are you here? What’s wrong? Did you and Micah quarrel?”

Ellen shook her head. “We didn’t quarrel. But I’ve broken off with him. I can’t marry him,
Mam
.” She let her hands fall to her sides. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

“And what’s wrong with Micah, I ask? Such a
goot
-looking boy. Such a hard worker. But naughty to make you late for church. Shame on him.”

“It isn’t Sunday,
Mam
,” she repeated. “And, it’s not Micah’s fault that I refused him. Nothing like that. It’s me. I don’t love him—not in that way. In the way you talked about this morning.” Rain ran off the shed’s tin roof, dripping down the back of her dress. “Can we talk about this later? I need to get my scooter and go to work.”

“On a Sunday?
Nay.
You’ll not go to work on the Sabbath.” Her mother pushed her firmly back into the shed and followed, stepping around the scooter that blocked part of the door. “Best you tell me all of it,” her mother said.

Ellen felt like she had the time she was fourteen and had played hooky from school to spend the afternoon fishing with friends. Her mother had found out, and she’d been more concerned that Ellen didn’t consider the gravity of her offense than angry. But the intensity of that concern had stung more than harsh words. Ellen hadn’t repeated the mischief. And after that, she’d applied herself to her studies. Mam had never told her father, saying that it would disappoint him too much. That kindness had endeared her to Ellen and strengthened the bond between them.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Ellen hedged. “I made a mistake. I thought that I could marry Micah, that those feelings would come with marriage, that being his friend was enough. But it isn’t.”

Her mother folded her arms. “So? You feel the same about Neziah? You turned him down, too?”

“Neziah turned
me
down. He doesn’t want to marry me.” She’d told her mother that when it had happened, told both her parents when she’d announced that she’d be courting Micah only. Ellen didn’t want to remind her that they’d already gone over this, especially since her mother had seemed so lucid earlier that morning. She’d given her good advice, advice that might have caused a problem today but would prove to be wise in the years to come.

“Neziah decided that I wasn’t the right woman for him, remember?” Ellen explained softly. “Isn’t that what courtship is for, so that both parties will have the opportunity to get to know each other?”

“
Jah
, that is true,” her mother agreed. She tilted her head to one side and tapped the side of her nose in the way she did when she was thinking hard. “But why did Neziah decide not to marry you? Was he thinking of his happiness or yours?”

“His,” Ellen replied quickly. “I’m sure...at least...” She hesitated. “I think...”

To her surprise, her mother did an unusual thing. She put her arms around Ellen and whispered, “You are sure you know Neziah’s mind, or you
think
you know his mind?” She peered into Ellen’s eyes. “There’s a difference.”

Ellen’s throat constricted. “I... I’m sure,” she answered. She returned her mother’s embrace, amazed that she’d showed so much emotion twice in the same day. Ellen was almost overcome with love for her. She’d never doubted it, but their relationship had been reversed for so long. Oftentimes she felt like the mother instead of the daughter. But at this instant, everything was as it should be. She hugged her mother tightly.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re sure to me. Best find out. You must go to him,” her mother said firmly as she let go of her. “To Neziah.”

“To Neziah? I can’t do that. What would I say to him?”

Her mother released her and stepped away. “You must go to him and tell him that you’ve broken off with his brother. That you made a mistake and that he’s the one you should have chosen.”

Ellen stared at her mother. “I didn’t...didn’t say that.”

Her
mam
smiled. “I’m old, and sometimes I’m confused, but I’m not blind. Go to him, daughter. Tell Neziah the truth.”

“And then what? What good will it do?” Ellen asked. “It’s too late.”

“Nay.”
Her mother chuckled. “When you’re in the grave, only then is it too late to right wrongs. I’m not saying you telling him how you feel will change anything. It probably won’t, but you’ll have done the right thing. You’ll say your prayers tonight with a clear conscience. Now, gather your courage and go to him. Now.”

“Now?” Ellen’s eyes widened. “I... I can’t go now. I have to open the shop. Customers may—”

“Horse feathers. Dinah is there.”

She shook her head. “No, she has a doctor’s appointment this morning.”

“Then your father can hitch up the horse and we can go to the store ourselves. All day he putters around the house spying on me, fussing like a broody hen. You go and make right what you have made wrong with your Neziah.” She stepped back to the open shed door and called. “
Vadder!
Where are you?”

Ellen tried in vain to think of a reason not to do as her mother ordered.

Her mother glanced back at her and made a shooing motion. “What are you standing there for? It’s stopped raining. Take your silly green scooter and go find Neziah.”

* * *

Ellen was halfway up the Shetler lane when she realized that there was no reason to believe that Neziah would be at the house at that time of the morning. He would be at the sawmill. She hadn’t heard the grinding of the big saw, but if Neziah wasn’t there, he could be away from the farm buying or surveying uncut timber. Joel would be at school, and Asa would be with Simeon. Ellen hoped she wouldn’t meet Simeon before she found Neziah; she was unprepared to explain her decision not to marry Micah.

It hadn’t stopped raining as her mother had said, but it was more of a drizzle than a downpour. Much of the lane passed under trees, and they dripped an unending series of drops on her head and clothing. The dirt road was hard-packed and not so steep as her own driveway, but the rain had made the surface slick. When she reached the fork that led to the sawmill, it became easier to walk than to use her scooter. She propped it up against a fence post and hurried on toward the mill.

A movement at the wood line caught her attention. Just coming out of the trees was a team of oxen pulling a massive log. Two men walked beside the animals, one tall, and the other shorter and stockier. It was too far to be certain, but from the way he carried himself, Ellen guessed that the taller man was Neziah and the other, one of his employees. She waved and shouted.

On her second attempt, Neziah saw her and waved back. He left the plodding team and cut across the field toward her. Ellen’s heart sank as warm needles of rain pattered against her face and arms. Wet grass under her shoes squished with every step she took, and tendrils of her wet hair clung to her face. She wished she hadn’t come. What was she thinking? Now, not only would she embarrass herself in front of Neziah, but they’d have a witness.

“Ellen!” Neziah called. “What are you doing out in this rain?” He tugged off his rawhide gloves and banged them against his trousers to knock off the mud. “Is everything all right?”

She walked toward him. His shirt was soaked through, and it clung to his broad chest and shoulders. His boots were muddy and the bottom of his trousers caked with bits of leaves and dirt. His straw hat was dark with moisture and bore bits of twigs.

Ellen swallowed hard as they met halfway. She wondered how she could have ever thought his features plain. A flush of heat washed over her throat and crept up to scald her cheeks. Looking at Neziah here in the fields, his callused hands scarred and blistered from the heavy work of cutting timber and handling logs, his stride so confident and graceful. He didn’t need the beard to identify him as a mature man. That was evident in his gaze and in his bearing. Next to him, she realized, handsome Micah was still a boy.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, her voice sounding oddly vulnerable to her ears. “I’ve broken off the betrothal with Micah.”

He stared down at her. His features revealed nothing of what he was thinking. “This is no place to talk. You’ll catch your death of cold.” He motioned toward the sawmill’s main building. “Let’s get inside, out of the rain.”

Numbly, she followed him. This was worse than she’d thought it would be. Why had she let her mother convince her to talk to Neziah today, while she was still reeling from the implications of what she’d done? As they walked quickly toward shelter, it began to rain harder, and she started to shiver.

When they reached the overhang that ran around the side of the building Neziah said, “Let me find you something to put on. Wait here.” Seconds later he was back with an old denim jacket. She stood stock-still as he draped it around her shoulders.

It smelled like sawdust, the forest and Neziah. She huddled inside the coat, wishing she could disappear. “I...I told your brother I can’t marry him,” she said.

“And why would you do that?” He was standing very close. His dark gaze held hers.

She sucked in a breath. “Because...because I don’t love him.”

“But you had told him that you
would
marry him?” Neziah’s tone was matter-of-fact, not accusing. Calm.

“I did, but it was a mistake, a terrible mistake.”

“I see.”

She sneezed, and to her shame, her nose was beginning to run. Neziah pulled a clean handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her. Gratefully, she took it.

“And now you’ve come to tell me.”

She nodded.

“In the rain. You rode your scooter here in the rain to tell me?” He offered her the hint of a smile.

“I don’t love Micah,” she repeated. “I can’t marry him.” She wiped her nose with his handkerchief again.