An Amish Man of Ice Mountain (The Amish of Ice Mountain Series Book 2) (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Joseph caught himself twice during the three-hour church service nearly falling asleep and probably would have done so had Ben Kauffman not elbowed him discreetly. He’d stayed awake all
nacht
as promised . . . his wedding night. But he had the extreme satisfaction of seeing Priscilla sleep, even if she did toss a bit—which, of course, led his already heated mind and body into secret places not suitable for guard duty. In the end, he’d resigned himself to studying the moon, and dawn had
kumme
steady and sure.

Now, he tried to focus as Bishop Umble began the usual announcements that followed the service. He wondered if Priscilla was nervous, but had already arranged with the bishop that he would go and stand with her when she asked for a place in the community. But first, he knew, Bishop Umble would speak in the strange way that he had of making a person feel both frustrated and alive.

The
auld
man was speaking now, stroking his gray beard, as he paced before the rows of backless benches filled with both old and young of the Mountain
Amisch
.

“There are times, my friends, when Derr Herr demands from us more than we think we have to give—our dreams, our fears, our lives. But it is He Who gives us the power to make the necessary surrendering of these and much more. This morning I ask the new
frau
of Joseph King, Priscilla King, to
kumme
before you with her husband and present to you a question of surrender.”

That’s all
, Joseph thought ruefully.
We could have used a bit more of an introduction.
But he stood and met Priscilla’s eyes across the sea of interested faces, ignoring the faint murmurs of those who had somehow missed the news of yesterday’s impromptu wedding.

He eased out of the row to take Priscilla’s hand as she came forward, but he paused to wink at Hollie, who was now ensconced on Frau Umble’s ample lap.

Then he led his wife to the front of the pews laid out in the Kauffmans’ clean barn. He glanced down at Priscilla and hid a smile when she lifted her chin. It was appropriate to let her speak first without him, and she was apparently prepared as much as he was ultimately unprepared for what she began to say.

“What is a husband? Many of you may have heard some of my story or mine and Joseph’s story, and I want to tell you that there is much more to know. A husband treats a child with tenderness, with laughter and affection. A husband treats a wife with gentleness and honor. A husband . . . stays awake all of his wedding night to keep watch against anything that may plague a wife’s mind and heart . . .”

Joseph choked on a laugh as she’d no doubt shocked some of those present with her details of their wedding
nacht
, but it felt
gut
at the same time. He pressed her hand hard as she went on.

“I had the pleasure of meeting Grossmudder May yesterday and found her to be a woman of my own heart. When I asked her how Mary Lyons’s
boppli
was, she said ‘Everything is as it should be.’ I realize now that she was speaking from Gott’s sight and with the truth, knowing that Mary would deliver that very day and without her help. It was—my honor to be part of that help instead. And I know, as I stand before you, that everything is truly as it should be, as I have found sisters and brothers among you, fathers and mothers, and grandparents for my—our—daughter. So I beg you,
sei se gut
, for the gift of community as I study to learn and grow and understand your ways, to become part of you and wife to Joseph King, forever.”

Joseph waited, filling his heart with his wife’s words, knowing they were right and spoken in truth.
She wasn’t going to run again . . .

Bishop Umble came to stand beside them. “You have heard Priscilla King’s words, her confession of love for you. What do you say to her plea for community? Her lifetime with Joseph?” A joyous chorus of jahs broke out and Joseph smiled down into Priscilla’s bright eyes until a lone, strident voice cried out.

“No!”

Priscilla jumped at the cry that silenced the voices of acceptance. The barn door had opened and she blinked into the bright sunlight of the morning as a lone figure came forward. It was a woman, attired in
Englisch
dress and holding her head high. Without knowing how, Priscilla understood that this was Joseph’s abuser, daring so very much to come before a people to whom she did not belong.

Priscilla was aware of many things happening at once—Joseph’s hand fisting inside her own, his big body tensing, Bishop Umble moving to face the woman, and then the woman locking eyes with her, a smile of vengeance on her lips.

“What right have you to interrupt this service?” Bishop Umble demanded.

The woman spun to face those gathered. “You joyfully welcome a woman into this community without asking about the fitness—of her husband. What do you really know of Joseph King? Of his past?”

“Enough!” Abner King rose and pointed a shaking finger at the
Englischer.
“You will not speak against my
sohn
. You have no right.”

“Even when it is the truth? Don’t your people live by the truth?” the woman cried.

“What truth do you speak of?” Bishop Umble asked sternly. “Say your piece and be gone from here.”

The woman pointed a finger at Joseph. “This man . . . assaulted me in the most intimate way. He was at my cabin yesterday to try and quiet me about it. He even sent one of your young men away so he could be alone to threaten me. And then”—she sniffed—“he said you’d all forgive him anyway— I’m only a widowed
Englischer.
I have no one but myself to speak for me.”

Priscilla knew a fury in her chest that bubbled up from reserves suppressed for years. She clawed past Joseph and the bishop to grab the woman by the arm and shook her hard enough to rattle her teeth. “Liar!”

“Of course you’d want to defend him—you’re his wife now. I am so sorry for you.” The woman now sobbed with effective anguish and the crowd of
Amisch
murmured among themselves.

“She lies, I tell you!” Priscilla screamed, then spun to the bishop, still not letting go of the other woman.

Bishop Umble met Priscilla’s stare and something in his eyes made her drop her hands from the intruder. Then the old man turned in profile to Joseph, giving him a fierce look. “Joseph King, what do you say to these accusations?”

Everything moved in time to the play of his senses. Joseph could smell Amanda’s familiar perfume from where he stood and a sick feeling roiled in his stomach, forcing him to swallow. He felt the wood of the barn floor beneath his feet, the crack in the timbers reminding him of the rift between heaven and hell, and he saw his beautiful wife wild with fury. He knew his delay in speaking caused concern among the onlookers, but he wasn’t sure how to begin. Thoughts pounded in his brain, images he’d long tried to suppress—him kissing Amanda, stroking her white thighs, dipping his head according to her direction.
My fault . . . my fault . . .

Then, somehow, he focused on Dan Kauffman, standing with the other youths at the back of the barn. Dan’s face was stricken and centered on Joseph almost immediately. He remembered the bishop’s words at the end of the service:
Derr Herr helps you to give
. Maybe he could give truth here and be free at last . . .

“What she says is false.” He heard his own voice from far away and had the strange feeling that he was standing outside himself, watching everything from a distance. “I did not assault her . . . she assaulted me.”

He realized the barn had grown dead quiet and briefly saw Frau Umble and some of the mothers slip outside with the younger children, including Hollie. Then he went on. “I was sixteen—seven years ago. I had—never known a woman. I gave in to temptation, true, but it was never at my seeking. I did—wrong things with her, but my wife knows of this. Priscilla—she convinced me that what had happened when I was young was not purely my fault. I give you the truth today and will answer any particulars that the bishop or deacons would care to ask. I was at her cabin yesterday, but I believe that Derr Herr allowed me to be there to prevent such an event as happened to me from reoccurring with another young
buwe
. I ask you to forgive me as I’ve asked Gott for forgiveness in not confessing before you all . . .” He was about to stop when he saw Amanda’s face—older, broken, her makeup running in a ghastly mask to a gaping red mouth. He cleared his throat and felt a cool breeze touch the back of his neck. “And I ask you to forgive Amanda too—as I forgive her, through the power of Derr Herr.”

Joseph stared at Priscilla as people began to come forward. She quickly moved to his side and he caught her close. He didn’t know what to expect, but he knew that Priscilla would stand with him through it, and it was the first time he hadn’t felt alone in a long time.

He watched as Bishop Umble gently touched Amanda’s arm and bent to murmur something to her, but she threw up her arms and ran shrieking from the barn. “You Amish are crazy . . . Forgiveness! Ha! You’re all fools. There is no forgiveness . . . not ever!”

Joseph felt Priscilla reach to stroke his arm as he shook his head with regret over Amanda’s decision, but he knew now that he’d seen the last of the woman this side of Judgment Day.

Ben Kauffman approached him, his hat in his hands, then pulled Joseph close in a bone-jarring hug. “
Danki
,
bruder.
I know my
sohn
was working for her—but I never would have thought . . .” Ben swallowed and broke off before moving away.

Grossmudder May stepped up, leaning heavily on her carved cane. “Now, see, my
kinner
, all is as it should be.”

Joseph felt his heart swell with emotion as Priscilla embraced the
auld
woman and Grossmudder May laid a hand on the red hair escaping Priscilla’s white
kapp.
“Fair blessings on you, child. May your lap be filled with
kinner
.”

Joseph flushed at the
auld Amisch
blessing, especially when Grossmudder May tapped him on the knee with her cane. She leaned in and he bent low. “And may you both have pleasure in the making of those
kinner
—you can see to that, I imagine, young Joseph.”

He could barely nod and was glad when the next friend came forward.

Finally, all had received them into the community, and Bishop Umble approached.

“Well,
sohn
. . . how does freedom taste? I’d wager you’ve carried that burden far too long. And I cannot help but wonder if you’d do me a favor, perhaps . . . seeing that you’re right with the community and all.”

“Of course,” Joseph replied, seeing Priscilla’s nod of agreement.

“
Gut . . . gut. Kumme
by and see me next week and we’ll talk about it.”

“Jah
, sir
. Danki.”

“All right, then. I’ve a mind to sample Frau Kauffman’s honey ham. Will you two join us?”

Joseph smiled. “It’ll be the most blessed meal we’ve eaten in a very long time.”

And Priscilla squeezed his hand in agreement.

 

 

They sat on the high ridge of a hill on a large blanket. Priscilla leaned back against a sheltering oak tree with its green, gracious branches while Hollie turned somersaults down the hill with the other children. Joseph lay with his head in Priscilla’s lap, sound asleep.

She was so grateful for the heavy weight of him pressed against her thighs, and she looked with pleasure from the children back to Joseph’s handsome face, unable to decide which gave her more satisfaction in the moment.

She studied Joseph objectively and knew he could have had his choice of any woman,
Englisch
or
Amisch
, but he’d chosen her. And now she wondered how to tell him that she didn’t need time to wait and learn to nurture herself, that he’d been teaching her right along, and that she was more than willing to accept his feelings for her. Though he hadn’t mentioned love—at least not outright—but respect was a great start to build upon.

Joseph stirred in her arms and she looked down in surprise to see his sleep-drugged, green-gold eyes open and watching her as if she were a dream.

“Hello,” he breathed.

“Hello,” she whispered back, feeling herself blush at the lazy heat in his gaze.

“I can see the swell of your breasts from this vantage point,” he murmured, turning toward her a bit.

“Joseph . . . everybody can see us.” But she could not control the contracting thrill his words gave her, making her unconsciously arch her back against the tree so that he smiled.

“And now twin points of interest are pressing through your dress, my sweet.”

She caught her breath and snatched her arm across her front.

He laughed lazily. “
Ach
, you can wall up the garden, little spitfire, but you cannot take away the scent of the flowers—or the images in a man’s mind.”

“You’re overtired.” She tried to admonish him but he merely closed his eyes, a smile on his perfectly shaped lips.

“And you cannot think about anything else when I kiss you—shall we test that theory here?”

“Now I think you really are sleep-deprived. Bishop Umble would have a heart attack,” she burst out.

He laughed, a rich, throaty sound that echoed back against her stomach and made her feel hot all over.

Then the bell rang, signaling Sunday dinner was ready.

“
Ach
, well—” He lifted his head. “Time to eat.” But he gave her a wicked glance as he sat up, his dark hair ruffled. “Though I think I’ve already had my dessert . . .”

She flushed and swatted him on the arm.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Later that night, Joseph hurried through evening chores, anxious to kiss his wife, and pleased with her responsiveness to his teasing that afternoon. He whistled to himself as he walked back toward the
haus
, enjoying the play of lightning bugs in the open field. Then he passed the toolshed and stopped in his tracks—realizing he had one more thing to do to make the day complete.

He entered the dark building, holding his lantern high, and saw his toolbox beneath the workbench. He bent low and slid the metal box out, no longer feeling the impulse to shudder as he glanced at the images staring up at him. He calmly took a match and flint from his pocket and struck a purging flame as he dropped the match into the box. The photos caught and burned in minutes and then he dumped spring water from a jug onto the ashes and closed the toolbox, sliding it back beneath the workbench.

He picked his lantern back up, glad there was only a slight breeze so his
fater
would not be troubled by the smoke, and carefully fanned the shed door back and forth until the scent of smoke had dissipated freely into the night air. Then he closed the door and made for the
haus
, glad to be able to tell Priscilla that he was free of the photographs now forever.

 

 

“But, Mommy,” Hollie wailed softly. “Why can’t I sleep with you again? Joseph didn’t seem to mind the chair.”

Priscilla shook her head and put her finger to her lips. “Please, Hollie, Abner’s gone to bed. We mustn’t wake him; he’s sick, remember?”

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” Joseph said softly from the doorway to Hollie’s bedroom.

Priscilla looked up with an apologetic smile. “She’s afraid again tonight.”

“
Ach
, I see . . .” Joseph entered with Bear in attendance. “Well then, I must tell you,
kind
, that you have a protector that will always keep you safe. In fact, I’d bet that Bear would defend you with his very life if necessary. Do you know he killed a wounded bear—that’s how he lost his eye and why he limps so.”

“A real bear?” Hollie’s eyes were now diverted to Joseph and wide with interest. Priscilla had to smile.

“
Jah
, a big bruiser too, much bigger than Bear the wolf dog, but he fought and protected us all.”

“Wow!” Hollie exclaimed, reaching to scratch Bear, and then yawning widely.

“So,” Priscilla asked softly, “will you try your own room again tonight, sweetheart?”

Hollie nestled down among the quilts. “Yeah . . . with Bear.”

Priscilla bent and kissed her and Joseph leaned over the bed to kiss Hollie’s cheek as well. Priscilla’s heart was caught as she watched with tenderness as Hollie’s thin arms looped around Joseph’s neck. “You’re different from Daddy, Joseph. I think you won’t hurt Mommy ever.”

“Nee, kind,”
he whispered softly. “I give you my word.”

Hollie snuggled deeper next to Bear and murmured as she drifted off to sleep. “I wish . . . I wish Daddy would never scare me again . . .”

Priscilla’s eyes welled with tears, knowing in her heart that the child had been exposed to far more violence than any child should be. Yet her daughter was willing to trust, to build new relationships and accept new experiences. How could she do any less? Priscilla looked directly into Joseph’s eyes and knew what she had to tell him.

 

 

Joseph watched his wife as she sat on the edge of the bed, idly pulling pins from her hair and removing her
kapp.
She had no idea what an alluring image she presented in her disheveled state and he paused at his dresser to clear his throat.

“You no doubt know that it is only a husband’s right to see an
Amisch
woman’s hair unbound?”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “You’ve seen my hair down a hundred times.”

Not in my bedroom, I haven’t . . .
“True.” He tried to sound casual. “But there’s something about being in your boyhood room with a girl that makes it all different.”

“I have to talk to you, but I’m not sure how to begin,” she said, immediately diverting his wandering thoughts.

“Okaay.”
She doesn’t want me, won’t ever be able to be with another man after Heath, she—

“Joseph?”

“Jah,”
he said, straightening to attention.

She clasped her hands tightly together in her lap and looked him in the eye. “I think, in the bedroom, that you know too much and I know too little.”

He blinked, then put a hand to his temple, rubbing hard, puzzling out her words. “You mean because of what happened with Amanda—you think . . . and you . . .”

“I never experienced any pleasure with Heath. There. I’ve said it.” Her small shoulders seemed to sag with relief and her words hit him hard.

Say something, you idiot . . . she’s telling you she’s never had . . . “Ach,”
he said finally, then went to sit down next to her on the bed. “Well, my
frau
, I can promise that I shall do everything possible to make sure you find pleasure in our marriage bed.”

“And you understand pleasure. Do you—do you think it’s all the same, no matter what woman you’re with . . . ?” She twisted a length of hair about her fingers tightly and he caught her hand in his.

“Are you asking me about Amanda—if it’s going to be the same, feel the same for me, with us?”

She shrugged rather helplessly. “I know it’s not my business, but I feel so unsure sometimes.”

He slid his hand away from hers to put his arm around her shoulders and draw her close. “Everything about me is your business, Priscilla. You’re my wife . . . and do I have images in my head of being with Amanda? Well, yes . . . but I wish they’d go away, that Gott would take them away and replace all of that with all of you.”

“I might not be enough of a replacement.”

Joseph sighed. “You are weary and worn and so heart-wrenchingly beautiful that I can’t stand to look at you sometimes, because I want until it hurts, and I feel out of control and wonderful at the same time.” He turned and pulled her closer, into the crux of his thighs. “Priscilla, trust me. Let me have time to court you, to get to know you better, so that you might trust me more.”

“Court me?” She looked at him with puzzled eyes.

He leaned forward and kissed her once hard on the mouth then drew back. “
Jah
, court you. And more than that, give you some control. You never had any with Heath. Part of you must feel like that’s the way it’s supposed to be between a man and a woman. But I love the little spitfire you are . . . the tempest and the storm.” He reached to cradle her face in his hands. “So why don’t you be in control for a while—ask me what you want, tell me what you need. I’ll answer; I’ll do whatever you like.”

She stared at him and he felt as if he could drown in the vivid blue twin pools of her eyes.

“But if I . . . take control, won’t that be like with Amanda?”

He shook his head. “She took from the
buwe
I was; I give to you from the man I am.” He half laughed. “It might not seem like much, but it’s all I can offer. Just as I made an offering to Derr Herr of those pictures Amanda sent. I burned them tonight. I want to start fresh. I want a new beginning with you, Priscilla.”

She covered his hands with her own and he smiled faintly as she lifted her chin. “All right, Joseph. I accept what you give. You can take your shirt off. I want—I want to see your shoulders and chest before you sleep.”