Amish Circle Letters (20 page)

He cleared his throat and glanced at the road then back at her. “I thought you’d prefer courting in a buggy that wasn’t borrowed,” he finally blurted out, hoping that he hadn’t presumed too much with Mimi. Perhaps she didn’t feel as strongly about him as he did about her. His heart fluttered inside of his chest, knowing that if she said the wrong thing, it would break forever. Long ago, he had given up hope of finding a young woman who made him long for family life. But that had changed the day he had first walked into Hostetler’s Store and laid eyes on Mimi.

“Steve,” she started, the solemnness of her voice frightening him.

“I shouldn’t have presumed,” he mumbled and started to turn the horse around, embarrassed at the way the conversation had shifted.

“What are you doing?” She sounded alarmed as they quickly started back up the road toward Route 340.

“Taking you home,” he replied. “I made a mistake.”

“Oh Steve,” she sighed and sank back into the seat. “Stop the buggy for a minute. Please,” she pleaded.

Reluctantly, he did as she requested but continued avoiding her eyes. How could he have misread her? How could he have thought that she might actually be interested in an old bachelor like him? He cringed waiting for her next words.

And then she said them. With softness in her voice that he had never heard before, she leaned forward and whispered, “Don’t you realize that I would have courted you in a borrowed buggy, any buggy, even a car if that meant it was the only way to be near you!” Then, to his surprise, she lightly brushed her lips against his cheek. “I thought you knew that, by now.”

He felt his heart race and he stared at her. His skin tingled where she had kissed him. It was the first time that a woman had kissed him and he was stunned at her sweet boldness. “Does that mean…?” The hesitation lingered between them and he couldn’t form the words. “You mean that you might eventually consider to…” He paused, the words stuck in his throat. “You would one day…”

Finally, feeling sorry for him as he stumbled over his words, she said it for him. “If you are asking me to marry you, Steve Fisher ,” she started, her eyes sparkling and a hint of a smile on her lips. “The answer has been and certainly is a very happy yes! I just wonder what took you so long to ask!”

A very happy yes.

His ears seemed to ring and he couldn’t digest what it was that he had just heard. He hadn’t intended to propose to her. Not today. Not like this. It had only been a few short months of courting. But he had known that he would ask her and he now knew that, with Mimi Hostetler, no planning was necessary because nothing ever went as planned.

A very happy yes.

“I…I don’t know what to say.” This day certainly wasn’t going the way he had planned it. “I’m speechless,” he said in complete disbelief. He had wanted to find out if she cared about him in the same way he cared about her. Instead, they were engaged!

“Is that a happy speechless?” she teased.

“Ja!” he said, slowly allowing a smile to cross his face. The realization hit him that Mimi Hostetler had just agreed to be his bride. Beautiful, fun, and playful Mimi Hostetler had just said yes and committed to spend the rest of her life with him. They would move to his farm, work side-by-side, hopefully have children, and worship God together. Mimi Hostetler was his soul-mate, the very one that he had been waiting for all of his life, despite not knowing it. God had a plan for him, after all.

“A very happy speechless,” he said and reached over to hug her, his arms wrapping her in an embrace that he vowed would never end.

It was Friday. Mary Ruth had just finished making some fresh bread for the Yoder children to enjoy when they would return home from school. Her life had taken a pleasant turn into a new routine, now that school had started. She would spend the mornings helping her sister, Leah, and then head to the Yoder farm after dinner. That gave her time to do afternoon chores and prepare the supper meal.

Still, despite the simpler routine, something had been eating at her. She found herself not able to concentrate or focus. For three weeks, she had been tossing and turning at night, thinking back to that strange proposal from Menno Yoder in the hayfield. She thought about Melvin’s concern that she would leave and how he was so afraid that he’d lose her, too. She thought about how much she had come to love those children.

Just that morning, Mary Ruth’s mind had been in a complete whirl. She was so distracted that Leah had asked her three times what was wrong. When Mary Ruth had hung up the laundry, she hung up the dirty clothes and started re-washing the clean. Leah finally told her to go lie down for clearly she was ferhoodled beyond being of any help.

But that didn’t help.

Fortunately, during the past three weeks since that uncomfortable discussion with Menno in the hayfield, she had been able to avoid him. It hadn’t been too hard since the children had returned to school and now Mary Ruth only came in the afternoons to clean the house, wash the clothes, and prepare supper. During that time, Menno was usually busy with his chores in the dairy barn or in the fields. Yes, avoiding him in person had been easy, she thought.

Except for one time.

She had just finished straightening the upstairs when she heard the door open. The hinge was rusty and squeaked. She was shutting the door to Melvin’s bedroom, her arms carrying his dirty pants and some shirts, when she heard the downstairs door slam shut. She knew it was too early for the children to be home so that it meant Menno had come into the house. Taking a deep breath, she started walking down the stairs, holding the railing with one hand. She paused at the end of the staircase and looked around the kitchen. No one was there. Perhaps, she had wondered, I imagined the door?

Setting Melvin’s dirty clothes on the edge of the kitchen table, she had walked over to collect the dishtowels from the counter. She had already brought down the girls’ clothing and, with everything gathered together, she headed into the washroom, her arms full of laundry. It was when she had started the washtub, the warm water flowing into the big basin, that she felt as if she was no longer alone. Her back stiffened and she turned her head, glancing over her shoulder.

He has been standing in the doorway, watching her. It was the first time that they had seen each other these past two weeks and she didn’t know what to say. Studying his expression, she tried to get a reading on his mood. His blue eyes were no longer dull and lifeless. Instead, there was a new look, one of curiosity and interest.

Neither one of them spoke.

Instead, he had simply tipped his head at her as a way of extending a silent greeting before he had hurried out the side door to return to the barn.

Shutting off the water, Mary Ruth had dried her hands on her apron and walked over to the screen door. He was walking back to the barn, his hands in his pockets and his broad shoulders dipped down. With a frown, she had returned to the chore of washing the clothes. It was later, when she walked back into the kitchen, that she had found the flowers in a glass, half filled with water, on the table. Her heart fluttered and she had glanced out the kitchen window. Had he left those flowers for her?

That had been earlier in the week. And she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the look in his eyes when he had stared at her. She couldn’t stop wondering why he would have left those flowers.

Now, as she stood at the counter, her hands covered in flour and the kitchen not as tidy as she would have liked it, she thought back about those flowers. Her stomach jumped and she bit her lower lip, wondering why he had left them on the table. It was a far cry from the weeks that he had spent yelling and ranting at her. Of course, he had softened a bit in recent weeks and then came his offer. Since then, He hadn’t spoken to her, hadn’t apologized for his strange behavior. But clearly it was a gesture. She just didn’t know what to make of it.

“Mary Ruth.”

She spun around, startled out of her deep thoughts at the sound of his voice. Backing against the counter, she lifted her hand to her chest and tried to catch her breath.

He was standing by the table. She hadn’t heard him enter the room. He must have oiled that hinge, she thought. Even more strange was the fact that he was dressed in his Sunday clothing, his hat in his hand. For a moment, he seemed to be nervous as he stared at her, that same look of curiosity in his face that she had noticed on the day of the flower incident.

“I wanted to ask you to share a glass of ice tea with me on the porch,” he said, his voice soft and low.

“Ice tea?”

He reached out his hand toward her. “Please,” he pleaded.

Wiping her hands on her apron, she frowned. What on earth, she thought. “Well, reckon I should pour you a glass, then.” She glanced at the counter. The bread could wait; it only needed a bit more kneading. “I made some fresh meadow tea yesterday,” she said, hurrying to the refrigerator to take it out. He was still standing there, waiting and watching as she took two clean glasses down from the cabinet and poured the cold, fragrant tea into them.

He held the door open for her and she slipped by him. To her surprise, there was another bouquet of flowers already on the porch bench. This one was bigger than the previous flowers that he had left on the table for her. Carefully, she moved them and sat down, making certain that she was far enough away from Menno that her leg didn’t brush against his.

For a few minutes, they sat there in silence. The birds were chirping from the dogwood tree by the corner of the house. In the field, the cows were wandering through the pasture, calling out to each other from time to time. The sky was perfectly blue and the air just right for early September.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he finally said after he cleared his throat. “’Bout the other day in the hayfield.”

“No need to apologize,” she said quickly. “I understand your distress, Menno.” She just wanted to get back into the kitchen, away from him and his overpowering presence. He was trying and she recognized that. Still, her own feelings were jumbled inside of her and she couldn’t help but want to just run away.

But he had more surprises for her.

“I wasn’t going to apologize,” he said.

She frowned and looked at him. “Why ever not?”

That sparkle in his eye grew deeper and she realized that there was a hint of a smile on his lips. She hadn’t seen him smile too often and it made him appear much younger. “Because I meant it,” he said. “I meant what I said to you.”

Oh help, she thought.

“Mayhaps I didn’t go about it the right way,” he admitted, his eyes scanning the fields for a moment. “But I meant what I said to you, Mary Ruth.

Her heart raced and she felt her palms begin to sweat. She didn’t have to look into a mirror to know that her neck was bright red and the color was traveling up her cheeks. “Menno…” she began softly. “You’re still grieving.”

“I have a promise for you, Mary Ruth,” he said, ignoring her. His hands fiddled with the glass and he stopped staring at the field. Instead, he made certain to maintain constant eye contact with her. “You stay here and you marry me. Be a
fraa
for me and mother for my
kinner
,” he started. “And I promise that I will always be a right
gut
man to you. I will take
gut
care of you and work very hard to prove myself worthy of you so that, one day, I have your love.”

Stay here and marry me.

She stared at him, repeating his words to herself. She didn’t know this man and she certainly didn’t love him. However, she knew that she loved his children. From what she had heard from everyone, he
was
a godly
man and had been most kind to his wife, Martha. Now, as he stared at her with crystal blue eyes full of hope, she wondered why he had chosen her. Marriage was forever. She was not a replacement wife.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen
, she wanted to shout. There was supposed to be a courtship and shy buggy rides. In her mind there were stolen glances at church service and whispers when no one was looking. But not once, in any of her dreams about finding a man to love, was there a previous wife who had just been killed in a farming accident that left the family grieving.

“Menno, I don’t know what to say,” she said, her voice soft and even. “It’s a very flattering offer but I…”

“I will make you very happy,” he said, interrupting her. “I will work hard every day to win your heart.” He took a deep breath. “I know you are not Martha and she is never coming back. But you are Mary Ruth and I see God’s blessing working through you.”

If her heart would beat any faster, she was afraid that it would jump out of her chest. Her head felt dizzy and she wanted to run away. This isn’t happening, she told herself. This isn’t real.

But it was real.

“Menno,” she said slowly, avoiding his eyes. She didn’t want to see the hope that was there. “I really think I need to finish that bread.” She didn’t wait for his response but quickly stood up and, without another word, she started to open the door.

“Mary Ruth!”

She turned around and, despite herself, she looked at him.

He stood up and held his hat in his hands again. There was a look of humility about him but also a look of peace. “You saved me and I want to spend the rest of my life thanking you for that. Real actions, not just words, to show you how much I care about you and for what you have done for me and my
kinner
.” He slid his hat on his head and gave her a small smile. “You think on that, ja?” This time, it was Menno who didn’t wait for a response but turned around and walked down the steps of the porch and headed toward the barn.

She stood there, her hand on the door and one foot inside of the house. His house, she realized. Her eyes watched him as he walked away, taking in his broad shoulders and confident walk. There was something about him that had changed and she realized that, indeed, he was saved. With a heavy heart, she walked through the doorway, determined to finish her chores and get home as fast as she could. She needed space and time to digest what he said and why her own heart had fluttered when he had smiled at her.