The Amish Bride (5 page)

“But we’re hungry,” Joel whined, retreating to the Deitsch dialect. “My belly hurts a lot.”

“Then cookies and milk will only make it worse,” Neziah pronounced. He scooped up Asa and draped him laughing over his shoulder and took Joel’s hand. “Bed. Now.” Joel allowed himself to be tugged along reluctantly to the bedroom and the double bed the boys shared. Neziah deposited Asa between the sheets then reached down for Joel.

“Read,” Asa reminded. He pulled the sheet up to his chin and dug his stuffed dog out from under his pillow while Joel wormed his way over his brother and curled up on top of the light cotton blanket and sheet.

A breeze blew through the curtainless windows on the north side of the bedroom. Like the bathroom, this was a sparse chamber: the bed, a bookcase, a table and two chairs. There were no dressers. The boys’ clothing was all hung inside the single, small closet. Neziah pulled up a chair, lit the propane lamp and together they shared a short prayer. Then he took the latest copy of
Family Life
magazine from the table. He’d read to Joel and Asa every night since their mother had died. It was something she’d always done with the children, and although he wasn’t as much at ease with reading aloud as Betty had been, he felt it was the right thing to do.

Strangely, the practice, which he’d begun out of a sense of duty, had become the highlight of his day. No matter how tired he was, spending a few moments quietly with his sons brought him deep contentment. Asa, in particular, seemed to enjoy the poetry as much as Neziah did. It wasn’t something that Neziah would have willingly admitted to anyone, but he found the sounds of the rhyming words pleasing. Joel preferred the stories, the longer the better, but Neziah suspected that it was simply a way of delaying bedtime.

Tonight, Neziah chose a short and funny poem about a squirrel that stored up nuts for winter and when he had finished it he said, “Sleep well,” as he bent to rest a hand lightly on each small head. Joel’s hair was light and feathery; Asa’s thick and curly. “God keep you both,” he murmured.

“Dat?”

“
Jah
, Joel, what is it? No more about cookies tonight.”

“
Nay, Dat.
I was wondering. Is Ellen going to be our new
mutter
?”

Neziah was surprised by the question; he had wondered how much his sons had understood from the conversations he and Micah had had with their father and later at the Beacheys’ table. Apparently, they’d caught the gist of it. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He made it a point never to be dishonest with his children, not even for their own good. “Maybe. Would you like that?”

“
Grossdaddi
said she might marry you,” Joel said, avoiding the question.

“
Jah
, and...and Uncle Micah, too,” Asa supplied.

Neziah chuckled. “A woman can only marry one man, and a man only one woman. Ellen might marry me or your uncle Micah, or she might not marry either of us.” Neziah slid the chair back under the table and retrieved a crayon from the floor. It was almost too dark to see, and he wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t stepped on it. “Good night, boys.”

“But will she?” Joel persisted.

He stopped in the doorway and turned back to his boys. “We’ll have to wait and see. If she marries your uncle Micah, she’ll be your aunt.”

Joel wrinkled his little nose. “Is that like a
mutter
?”

A lump rose in Neziah’s throat. Joel had been so small when his mother died, and Asa only an infant. Neither of them could remember what it was like to have a mother. Neziah felt a faint wave of guilt. Had he been selfish in waiting so long to remarry? His sons deserved a mother; everyone in Honeysuckle thought so. But would Ellen be right for them? For
him
?

“Ellen makes good pie,” Joel said.

Asa yawned. “I like pie.”

“Ellen
does
make good pie,” Neziah conceded. “Now, no more talking. Time for sleep.” Pretending not to hear the muted whispers behind him, Neziah made his way out of the boys’ room and down the stairs. He didn’t need a light. He knew the way by heart.

He continued on through the house, past the closed door to the parlor, where a thin crack of light told him that his father was still awake reading the Bible or working on correspondence as part of his duties as a church elder. He walked through the kitchen and outside, making his way to the old brick well that stood near the back porch. The windmill and a series of gears, pipes and a holding tank delivered water to the house and bathroom, but the coldest water came from the deep well. Neziah unlatched the hook and slid aside the wooden cover. With some effort, an overhead pulley, a rope and a wooden bucket rewarded him with an icy drink of water scooped out with an aluminum cup that was fastened to the iron frame.

Neziah leaned against the old brick and savored the water. This was another habit of his. Every night, if it wasn’t raining, sleeting or snowing, he’d come out to the well and draw up fresh water. He liked the sensation of the liquid, the rough texture of the bricks and the familiar curves of the bucket and cup. He’d always loved the well. It was a good place to think.

He was still standing there, one hand steadying the bucket, when he heard the rhythmic sound of a stone skipping across water. Instantly, he knew what it was. He finished his water, hung the cup back on the hook and walked across the yard, past the grapevines. At the edge of the small pond in the side yard, he spotted the outline of a figure. The figure tossed something just so and again Neziah heard the familiar splash, splash, splash of a rock skipping across water.

“Only three. Can’t you do better than that?” he called, walking toward his brother.

“It’s not about how many hops. I’m practicing my technique,” Micah explained.

“Ah.” By the light of the rising moon, Neziah picked up a stone from the water’s edge and slid it back and forth over his fingertips, judging its shape and weight. A good rock had to be flat and oval and just the right weight. “Your spin’s still not right.”

“My spin is fine.” Micah picked up another rock, crouched and threw it.

Four skips.

“You should try standing up to start...like this.” Neziah lifted his hand above his head, his wrist cocked, and then swung down and out in one smooth movement. The stone hit the water and skipped one, two, three, four, five times before disappearing beneath the surface.

“Okay, that was just practice. Best two out of three tries,” Micah challenged, picking up another rock.

Neziah smiled. The two of them had been competitive for as long as he could remember, mostly because of Micah, he liked to think. To Micah, everything was a game. But the truth be told, though, Neziah had a small competitive streak himself. Or maybe it just bugged him that his little brother was so good at everything. Nothing ever came hard to Micah.

“Best score of three,” Neziah agreed. He leaned over to find three perfect rocks. “How was fishing with Ellen?”

“Great.”

Neziah could just make out Micah’s face; he was grinning ear to ear. “And Ellen really is agreeable to marrying one of us?”

Neziah saw Micah shrug in the darkness as he picked up a stone, ran his fingers over it and rejected it. “It makes sense, and she’s a sensible woman. Or haven’t you noticed that?”

“You’re not usually so quick to seize on one of
Vadder
’s ideas.” Finding a near-perfect stone, Neziah passed it to his left hand for safekeeping.

“He’s right. It’s past time I married. I look at you with your two boys and...” Micah turned to Neziah, casually tossing a stone into the air and catching it. “You know what I think of them. Scamps or not, it’s time I had a few of my own. And for that I need a wife. Why not Ellen?”

“She’s older than you.”

Micah laughed. “That’s what she said. Wasn’t our
mutter
older than our
vadder
?”

“A year, I think, but there’s more than that between you and Ellen.”

“If it doesn’t bother me, it shouldn’t bother you, brother.” Micah stared at Neziah for a moment. The grin came again. “Not having second thoughts, are you? Wishing you hadn’t called things off when you did?”

“Of course not,” Neziah said a little too quickly. “We walked out together, that’s true, but there were differences that we couldn’t seem to...” He sighed and stood at the edge of the water. “Your turn.”

Micah squatted down. “If my courting Ellen is a problem for you, now’s the time to speak up. I like her, but I won’t let a woman come between us. Not even Ellen.” He let go of his first stone. “Yes!” he cheered when it hopped five times.

“
Dat
’s idea is that she choose between us. I agreed to it, same as you.” Neziah tossed his stone and it skipped five times. “I just don’t want you to hurt her, Micah. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Micah tossed his next stone. Three skips. He didn’t cheer. “Sounds like you’ve made up your mind to step aside.”

Neziah skipped his second stone. Five again. “I didn’t say that.” He didn’t like it when people put words in his mouth.

Micah prepared to toss his final stone, taking his time to glance at the water and get himself into position. “So you do still have feelings for her?” He let the stone fly...five skips.

Neziah thought about it for a minute and realized that as much as he would like to deny it, he couldn’t. He raised his hand high over his head, the rock just right between his fingers. “We didn’t break up because we didn’t care for each other. It was because we weren’t sure that we were suited to be the best partners. Marriage is for life, and some differences can loom large as years pass.” He let the rock go, spinning it just right...six skips. “I win,” he declared.

Micah turned to Neziah, his tone teasing. “So what you’re saying, brother, is that you’re in?”

“I’m in,” Neziah admitted.

“And no hard feelings if she picks me?” Micah opened his arms wide. “Because you know I’m hard for the girls to resist.”

“Why would there be any hard feelings?” Neziah asked and then glanced away. He loved his brother, always had, but he wondered, as the words came out of his mouth, how he would feel seeing Ellen marry him. “It’s her choice.”

“
Goot.
Contest on. And may the best Shetler bring home the bride!” Micah snatched up another stone. “Now come on. One more time. Best out of five stones.”

Chapter Four

E
llen pushed her scooter into the yard and scanned the road below. Immediately, she caught sight of a horse and buggy coming from the direction of town. It was Micah. He reined in the gelding and waited. Suspecting that she’d been ambushed, Ellen smiled and walked down the hill toward him.

As she approached the buggy, she saw Micah grinning at her. She knew the expression. He hadn’t changed much since he was a mischievous boy. He knew that she hadn’t been expecting him to be here this morning, and he looked delighted to have surprised her. “You’re right on time today,” he called.

“Good morning, Micah.” She wasn’t sure if the tingling she felt in her chest was pleasure or aggravation. She felt as though everyone around her was trying to manage her, and she liked to make her own decisions. Was this how it was going to be—Micah popping up everywhere, grinning?

“Good morning.”

“Did you come to see my
dat
?” she asked, pretending innocence, but certain Micah had come to see her, probably to offer to drive her to the shop. “He’s in his workshop.” She stood there a few yards from the buggy. “We had the fish for breakfast this morning. Delicious. Thanks for letting me keep them.”

“Wish I’d been here to have some with you.” Blue eyes twinkling, Micah swung down lightly out of the buggy. He wasn’t a small man. He was muscular, with broad shoulders and long legs, but Ellen had always thought Micah moved easily, like a fine-blooded horse. Maybe it was because he liked playing ball. He’d always been more athletic than his brother, Neziah.

“Maybe not. I burned the last batch.”

“I doubt that,” he said laughing. “I’ve come to drive you into Honeysuckle.”

Unconsciously, she folded her arms, tightening her mouth into a thin line. If only he wasn’t so cute, she thought. It was so hard not to be flattered by Micah’s attention, but he got his way far too often because he was hard to resist. “No need to put yourself out. I’ve got my scooter.” She offered a half smile. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot of work to do today at the sawmill.”

He spread his hands in an endearing gesture. “No trouble at all.
Dat
needs turnip seeds. He’s a mind to put in a fall crop where we tore down the old shed. So I’ve got to drive right past your shop. It would be foolish for you to take the scooter when you could ride.”

She nodded. “I can see your point. But you can’t convince me that you’d drive all the way into town for turnip seeds so early on a workday.”

Micah chuckled and reached for her scooter. “I’ll put this in the back of the buggy so you’ll have a way home after work.”

She wasn’t letting Micah off so easily. “Tell the truth. This is all part of some scheme of yours, isn’t it?”

His smile broadened, showing even white teeth. One thing about the Shetler brothers, Ellen thought. They’d been fortunate enough to inherit their mother’s beautiful teeth. Neither Neziah nor Micah had ever had a cavity, while she had made regular trips to the dentist. If she did marry one of them, maybe their children would have good teeth. She almost laughed out loud at the thought. Was she really considering marriage prospects based on dentistry?

“Just giving a neighbor a lift into town.” Micah tucked her scooter under his arm. “But that brother of mine will be wishing he thought to come this morning. He can be slow at the start, but he likes a good competition as much as I do. He just doesn’t like to admit it.” Behind him, the black gelding shook his head and shifted impatiently. Like his owner, the spirited horse was happier when in motion.

“I’m not sure I like being part of a
competition
. And I haven’t said I’d ride in with you, have I?” she asked.

It was flattering to have Micah show up bright and early this morning, and she’d enjoyed herself on their fishing expedition the previous evening, but her quiet life was suddenly moving way too fast. Simeon had only mentioned this scheme to her the previous morning, and this would be the second time she and Micah had been alone together in less than twenty-four hours. And riding to town in his buggy would set tongues to wagging. This was a close community, and by nightfall people would be wondering if she and Micah were walking out together.

“Come on, won’t you ride into Honeysuckle with me?” Micah asked. “I’m already here. You might as well.” And for the first time this morning, behind the teasing, Ellen could see that it was important to him. He’d be hurt if she refused.

“I suppose you’re right,” she replied. “It’s going to be a warm day for September. Better I arrive looking fresh for my customers.”

“You look fine to me,” he said as he loaded the scooter into the back of the vehicle. “Is that a new dress you’re wearing? I like green on you. It makes your eyes green.”

“My eyes are just hazel,” she said as she climbed onto the front seat. “I wasn’t looking for you to give me compliments, but
danki
for saying so.”

“Didn’t suppose you were.” He slid onto the seat beside her and picked up the reins. “It’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you, Ellen. Your eyes aren’t always the same color. They change.”

“Change how?” She averted her gaze and brushed at the wrinkles in her apron. Was this what it would be like to court Micah, all compliments and blushing? Was this what she wanted, a woman of her age?

“Just, whatever color dress you wear, your eyes look different. It’s one of the things I remember about you from school. Thanks to your eyes, I ate Henry Chupp’s whoopie pies four days in a row.”

Puzzled, she stared at him. “How and why did you eat Henry’s dessert?”

“I bet him that he couldn’t guess the color of your eyes each day before you arrived and I could.” He grinned at her. “Your eyes were always the color of your dress, and you always wore the same color dress on the same day—green on Monday, blue on Tuesday, then the green again and then the blue. On Friday it was supposed to be a lavender dress, but that week you wore brown instead and ruined the whole thing.” He shrugged. “I told Henry your eyes were going to turn purple and I lost.”

Her eyes widened. Gambling was forbidden by the
Ordnung
, the rules most Amish communities lived by. “That was very wrong of you. We don’t bet on things, not horse races or what color a girl’s eyes will be.”

Micah grimaced. “I know. Neziah found out and threatened to tell
Dat
if I didn’t make it up to Henry. I had to give him my Little Debbie cakes for a whole week. My favorites. The ones with the sticky cream inside.”

“Served you right.”

“I guess. Neziah was tough. I didn’t think he would tell
Vadder
because Neziah wasn’t a tattletale, but he had ways of making me toe the line. It was enough to make me give up gambling for life.” He sighed dramatically. “My mother didn’t buy us store cakes often. Usually we had the ones she made. Those Little Debbie cakes were a big deal.”

“I suppose children do make mistakes. How old were you?”

“Let me see. Neziah was out of school and working in the sawmill. I must have been eleven. Teacher used to have you give us spelling tests, and you always gave us more than one chance to spell the word correctly.”

“You didn’t need an extra chance. You were the best speller in your grade.” It was strange to think that the rosy-cheeked boy in suspenders and bare feet she’d once known might now become her beau. Micah had always been a handful, never a bad kid, but always full of mischief. She’d always suspected that Micah had been the one who’d put a frog in her lunchbox when she was in the eighth grade.

“But I always liked you, Ellen. Even though the teacher called on you to be her helper, you never took advantage of it. You weren’t silly like most of the other girls. You don’t play games with people.”

She chuckled. “Don’t I? And who used to strike you out when we played softball at school?”

“Not those kinds of games,” he said as he maneuvered the horse to turn the buggy around. “You know what I mean. You always went out of your way to include the shy girls in your group. You were popular with the teacher and the other kids, but it didn’t make you stuck up.”

“I hope not.”

“
Nay
, you weren’t. If you had been, I’d have noticed.” He glanced at her. “You didn’t have any brothers or sisters. That’s unusual. A lot of people expected you to be spoiled, but you weren’t. It was something my
vadder
used to talk about, how much he admired your parents for being sensible raising you.”

“I was blessed with good parents,” she said softly. “And I think you were, too.”

“
Jah
, but I wish...” He trailed off and Ellen suspected that he was thinking of his mother, who’d died so tragically in that van accident, the same accident that had claimed the life of Neziah’s wife, Betty.

“That you hadn’t lost your mother.”

“True enough,” he said. “
Dat
never says much, but I know he still grieves for her.”

“We have to believe that she’s safe in the Lord’s hands.”

“We do,” Micah agreed. “I pity those who have no faith to hold them up in hard times. It must be bitter...not to know that.” His brow furrowed. “Easier by far for me, a man grown, to lose a mother than Neziah’s two boys. They need a mother’s hand, and if you pick one of us, I hope you’ll give them what they’re lacking.”

“I’d do my best,” she promised.

“And that’s all anyone can do, I suppose. Do your best.” He eased his horse to a halt at the end of the driveway. A car approached, and Micah held the lines firmly. “Easy. Good boy.” When the car passed, he said, “Walk on.” He flicked the leathers over the gelding’s back, and the horse started forward, first at a walk and then at a pace.

“You’ve done well with him,” she said as the buggy rolled swiftly along the blacktop. She had to admit to herself that she liked fast horses almost as much as Micah did. And it was plain to her that he’d taken a roughly broken saddle horse and worked with him until the animal showed amazing promise as a driving horse. When Micah had come home from the auction with the three-year-old last fall, his father and her own had expressed doubt that the gelding would ever make a reliable driver.

“He was bred to be a racehorse,” Ellen’s father had explained more than once. “Lots of standardbreds turn out to make good driving horses, but that animal was left a stallion too long. I wouldn’t trust him.”

As usual, her mother had echoed her father’s warning, but Ellen had kept her opinion to herself. Micah was known for having patience and a soft hand with horses. She’d secretly hoped that the dire predictions would turn out to be groundless. Flashy the black might be, but the horse Micah called Samson had intelligent eyes, and she’d seen no evidence of meanness around other animals. This was the first time she’d ridden in a buggy behind Samson, and it was too soon to pass judgment, but she thought the gelding seemed well suited to his owner.

“He has a sweet mouth,” Micah said. “Still a little nervous around motorcycles, but he’s young yet. I think he’ll be fine.”

“Worth a lot more than you paid for him,” she agreed. “If you wanted to sell him.”

“Which I don’t. I’m not fickle. When I commit to something or someone, I stick with it.”

Ellen didn’t answer. She felt safer when the conversation was confined to the horse or to other ordinary subjects, but she felt that Micah was straying from the shore into deeper water. She slid over on the seat a little, widening the distance between them so that she could brace her hand on the buggy frame. “Thanks for thinking of driving me in this morning,” she said. “It was kind of you.”

He raised his shoulders and let them fall. “I’m giving my good neighbor a ride to town. It isn’t as if we’re crying the banns for our wedding.”

He was right, and she felt a little foolish for making so much of his showing up in her lane this morning. Slowly, she nodded. “It’s just that it takes some getting used to, thinking of you as a...”

“A suitor?” He smiled and clicked to the horse. Samson quickened his pace. “I thought we’d settled that last night.”

“Did we, Micah?”

“I thought so.”

She tightened her grip on the edge of the seat. “But it doesn’t bother you that this was all your father’s idea?”

“
Dat
said that he thought that it came as an answer to his prayers. And maybe it did. We can’t say for sure how God tells us what He wants us to do, can we?”

She shook her head. “I guess not.”

“Maybe it was me who needed the nudge to see what was right in front of my eyes for years. I like you, Ellen. If it’s meant to be and we give it a chance, maybe...”

“Jah.”
She sighed. “Maybe.” A bubble of happiness tickled her insides. Maybe Micah was right. Maybe he’d been right in front of her and she’d never really looked at him. The possibilities were intriguing.

“It
is
just a ride to town,” he reminded her. “No strings attached...unless you decide you want them.”

They exchanged a smile, and she closed her eyes and savored the sensation of the wind on her face. This was certainly cooler than she would have been pushing her scooter along the road. She found herself relaxing and enjoying the ride.

Micah, never at a loss for words, began to tell her about a pig that had escaped from Roland Yoder’s wagon. Roland, a butcher, was taking the animal to his brother’s place to be fattened for autumn, but as he was crossing the highway near Bird-In-Hand, a dog ran out at the buggy. The barking frightened the pig that then jumped over the rails and landed in the center of the road. Cars braked and horns honked. The pig ran back and forth causing a traffic jam.

Ellen smiled and waited for the punch line. Like his father, Simeon, Micah’s stories were usually funny, sometimes hilarious. But Micah abruptly broke off in midsentence and reined in the horse.

“Did you see that turtle?” he asked.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Turtle?”

“
Jah
, a box turtle. Just a little one, smaller than your fist.” He guided Samson onto the shoulder of the road. “Sit tight,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” Micah handed her the reins, climbed down off the seat and hurried back along the road. About thirty feet behind them, Ellen saw him cross to the center of the blacktop and pick up a round object. “Got him!” he proclaimed, holding the creature up for her to see. He carried the turtle to the far side of the road and put him down safely at the edge of the woods.