The Amish Bride (14 page)

She squeezed his hand and pulled free. “Thank you for tonight,” she said.

“Will you come with me again? Soon?”

“Maybe.” Her face was in the shadows, but he sensed that she was smiling at him.

“Can I walk you up to the house?”

“If you like.”

A funny hollow feeling settled in his stomach. A minute ago, he’d felt sure of her...sure of his chances, but now he wasn’t so certain. Was she teasing him? “
Nay
, Ellen, only if you want me to.”

It wasn’t that far to her back porch. He wished it were a mile. Neither spoke until she stopped at the bottom step.

She turned to him in the darkness. “Have you kissed a lot of girls?”

Her question surprised him. “
Nay
, only two. But nothing serious. Not something I should be ashamed of.” He straightened. “And don’t ask me who, because I’ll give no names. All I can say is it was nothing I, or they, took seriously.”

“You’re sweet, Micah.” She raised up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Good night.”

He touched his fingertips to where her mouth had just been on his cheek. “Night.”

In seconds, the door closed behind her, and he stood there wondering if things had changed between them. Inside, he felt like they had. Something important had happened this evening, but whether it was for good or bad, he couldn’t tell. As he made his way back to Samson and the buggy, he tried to think what was different in their relationship.

He was still puzzling over Ellen’s responses when he reached his father’s stable. As he approached the barn, he saw a tall figure leaning against the double doors. “Neziah?”

“
Jah.
You’re late getting home. Everything all right?”

“Right as rain,” Micah said.

“You went bowling with Ellen?”

“Jah.”
He got down and led Samson through the double doors into the barn. Neziah followed him, and Micah began to worry that maybe something was wrong. It wasn’t like his brother to be waiting for him this way. “
Dat
all right? Kids?”

Neziah took down a lantern from inside the barn door. Micah heard the scratch of a match, and then a circle of yellow light glowed from the kerosene lamp. Neziah hung it back on the wooden peg. “Everything is
goot
here.” Neziah began to unharness Samson. “Okay to give him water now?” He stroked the horse’s neck. “He feels a little warm. You weren’t driving him hard on the way home, were you?”

“Walked him from Ellen’s. Water’s fine.” He backed the buggy into an empty space near the stalls and waited while Neziah hung up the harness.

“Much traffic on the road tonight?”

“Not much.” He found a curry brush and began brushing Samson’s neck and chest in long, sweeping strokes. Neziah went out of the barn and returned with a bucket of fresh water from the well. He carried it to Samson’s head and offered it to the horse. Samson drank until he was satisfied, then blew a spray of wet slobber over Micah’s trousers.
“Danki,”
he said. “Fool horse.” But he grinned as he said it and took care as he brushed along Samson’s back. “You know that gray that Jonah Schwartz drives, the one that used to race on the tracks in Delaware and New Jersey?”

“Strong legs, that mare.”

Micah drew the brush along Samson’s rump. “She’s not as fast as they say.”

“Who isn’t?” Neziah asked.

“Jonah’s horse.” He threw the brush into the open aisle outside the stall and turned to Neziah. “Are you jealous? Because I took Ellen bowling?”

“Took a long time at her house. After you got her home, I mean.”

“How do you know when I got her home?” Micah asked. Feeling out of sorts, he found the brush and put it back on the wall where it belonged. Their
vadder
liked things in place. If he found it on the barn floor tomorrow, he’d ask questions.

“Saw your lights coming down the road,” Neziah said. “Quite some time ago.”

“Not that long. We were talking.” He made a sound of exasperation. “You
are
jealous. We went bowling. Two other couples went with us. Then we had pizza and sodas. Then we came home. End of story.”

“That’s all?”

“I didn’t kiss her, if that’s what you want to know.”

“But you tried, didn’t you?”

Trying to tamp down his irritation, Micah led Samson to the back door that led to the fenced-in compound and turned him out. It was a warm night, and he would be more comfortable outside than in his stall. “What Ellen and I do on our date is none of your business, big brother.”

“It is my business,” Neziah insisted. “Because Ellen’s going to be my wife.”

“And that would bother you? If she ever kissed me?”

“It would.”

Micah closed the half door and locked it so neither Samson nor any of the other animals could get back into the main area of the barn and raid the feed barrels or the haystack in the night. “I didn’t kiss her, Neziah, but it’s not something you should be asking. You might
not
be marrying her. She could well choose me, instead of you.”

“No need for me to worry about that, little brother. It’s me she’ll marry, and you’d best get used to the idea.”

“We’ll see about that.” Micah walked off into the dark, making the decision it was time to pin Ellen down and set their wedding date.

Chapter Thirteen

O
n Saturdays, merchants in Honeysuckle hosted a farmer’s market and auction at the northern end of town. It was one of Ellen’s favorite aspects of the village, and she rarely missed a market day. Vendors came from all over to rent outside space for tables, selling everything from household items to vintage furniture to seasonal food. That day, the tables were a feast of colors with red-and-gold mums, and baskets of early apples. There was also an area where farm equipment, both horse-drawn and motorized, was auctioned off. And there were always tables of odds and ends. Ellen liked to look for old handmade items: wooden butter churns, oil lamps and small antiques, things that customers who visited her shop were eager to buy.

The real draw for tourists and the Amish community alike were the food stalls inside, offering choice cuts of beef and pork, cold cuts, locally made cheese, baked goods, ice cream and homemade moon pies and funnel cakes. A pizza truck and other mobile snack stands sold scrapple and sausage sandwiches, hand-cut fries and non-alcoholic drinks. Picnic tables stood inside and outside under the trees, so that shoppers had a place to sit and talk or enjoy a simple meal. Like most Saturdays, Dinah had come early to the market to meet friends from her widows’ club for breakfast, and she was happy to keep an eye on the store and their new
Englisher
employee while Ellen took a break.

As Ellen was walking between tables, she came upon Saloma and her sister Joanie sitting at one of the tables in the shade. Ellen saw from the outline of Joanie’s dress that she was expecting a child, and Ellen couldn’t help the smallest wince of envy. Joanie was younger than she was by at least five years, but she’d found a husband she adored and was already starting a family. One by one, most of Ellen and Saloma’s friends had married. With God’s help, Ellen prayed, she would make the right choice and become one of those wives before the first snowfall.

“Sit down, sit down,” Saloma urged. “Joanie was telling me about a new job that her husband has just gotten. He won the contract to build a big barn for an English family that bought the old Peterson farm. He’ll have to hire more people to help him, but the work will keep them busy for three or four months.”

“I’m so happy for you, Joanie.” Ellen set her cup of lemonade on the table and slid onto the bench across from the two sisters. She didn’t say anything about the coming baby. Pregnancy was a subject not spoken about outside the family until the last few weeks.

“Ellen’s walking out with the Shetler brothers,” Saloma said as she finished off her scrapple sandwich and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Both of them.” Joanie looked dubious, but Saloma laughed. “It’s true. Tell her, Ellen.”

Ellen smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know that we’re walking out, but I have been seeing a lot of both Micah and Neziah,” she admitted. “My parents would like to see me marry one of them.”

Joanie narrowed her gaze. “And you? Is it what you want? I can understand you considering Neziah’s suit, but Micah...” She spread her hands, palms up, in a gesture that said a lot about her opinion of Micah without putting her criticism into words.

“Well, I hope she
doesn’t
pick Micah,” Saloma said eagerly. “Then maybe I’d have a chance. He’s so cute.”

“
Jah
, he is.” Joanie glanced at her sister. “But cute doesn’t put groceries on the table. Micah has a reputation for being flighty. And he hasn’t joined the church yet.” She turned her attention to Ellen. “Are you sure he’s ready for the responsibility of baptism and marriage?”

“We’ve been talking about that and I think he is,” she answered.

“I know you and Neziah courted once before,” Joanie said. She opened a Ziploc bag of homemade potato chips and offered some to Ellen. “Maybe that’s where your heart will lead you. He seems to be the steadier of the two.”

Ellen selected a potato chip and ate it slowly. They were salt and vinegar, her favorite. “I do know Neziah better, but...” She shook her head. “I’m not sure. They are both solid men, and Micah...he’s so easy to be with. So much fun, you know?”

“Pray on it,” Joanie suggested. “When I accepted my husband’s proposal, there was someone else who’d written to me to ask me to be his wife. He seemed like a better choice. He was well set up, with a big farm.”

“And an interfering mother,” Saloma put in. “A widowed mother who would have tried to run their marriage.”

“
Nay
, sister,” Joanie admonished. “Caring for elders is a privilege, not a duty. That he had responsibilities that I would have shared wasn’t something that would have kept me from accepting his offer.” She smiled and touched the place over her heart. “It was a feeling in here, and the sense that the man I chose is who God wanted for me. Sometimes important decisions can seem overwhelming, but remember, if you hold with our faith, you are never alone. Listen with your head and your heart, and you’ll know who is right for you.”

“
Goot
advice.” Ellen nodded as she munched on another potato chip.

Talk then turned to less personal subjects as they finished their snacks, and she was just about to go inside to purchase goat cheese for her father when she saw a familiar figure strolling between two vendor stalls. Certain that the young woman in the blue dress was Gail, Ellen said her goodbyes to Joanie and Saloma and strolled nonchalantly across the market to intercept her.

“Oh, hey,” Gail said when she nearly bumped into Ellen. She stopped short, a mixed expression of eagerness and embarrassment on her face.

The girl looked tired. Dark circles beneath her eyes smudged her fair complexion, and she was scratching several large mosquito bites on her arm.

“Gail. It’s good to see you.” Ellen noticed that Gail had a stuffed backpack over her left shoulder and was carrying the rolled-up sleeping bag under her other arm. It was everything she owned, probably. “How are you doing?” Ellen asked. “Are you on your way to work?”

“Not until four.” Gail shifted her feet nervously and lowered the backpack to the ground. “I... I like to see what people have for sale.”

“Me, too.” Ellen smiled at her, hesitated, then spoke her mind. “Would you think me rude if I ask where you slept last night?”

Gail flushed and averted her eyes. “Not on your porch. Honest.”

“But where?” Ellen pressed. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this meeting hadn’t been by chance. Sometime in the night, she’d awakened in a cold sweat. She’d suspected that she’d had a bad dream but couldn’t remember any of the details. Gail had certainly been at the heart of her concern. All the way to the shop this morning, she’d wrestled with her conscience. Dinah’s advice about not being too trusting of strangers was wise, but... Could it be that they’d both been too cautious?

“I can take care of myself,” Gail said, edging away. “You don’t have to...”

“Wait.” Ellen laid a gentle hand on Gail’s forearm and gazed directly into the girl’s eyes. It was obvious that Gail was struggling to keep from crying.

Gail swallowed hard. “A sheep barn,” she admitted, looking down at her feet. “Without permission.”

“Well, that won’t do,” Ellen said. “It’s going to get cold soon and I want to help. Will you come back to the shop with me?”

Gail looked uncertain.

“Please. I have a proposition to make,” Ellen said in a rush. “If you don’t mind a little work.”

Gail shook her head vigorously. “I’m not afraid of work. If I could earn a little extra, it would help me save up for the security deposit to rent a room. They come up sometimes, you know, in the paper.”

“I think I can do better than that,” Ellen told her with a smile. “Come on.”

Gail stood there for a moment and then, with what could only have been a leap of faith, she fell into step beside Ellen.

“There used to be an apartment up on the third floor of my shop,” Ellen explained as they walked. “It’s not much, but it’s yours if you think it will suit you.”

“Really?” Gail’s eyes widened. “You’d let me stay in your shop?”

“I couldn’t ask any rent for it. It’s a bit of a mess. We’ve been using it for storage.” She glanced at Gail, whose face now seemed bright. “Maybe in exchange for the room you could help by sweeping the sidewalk of leaves, scrubbing the porch, little chores that I hate to ask Dinah to do.”

Gail beamed. “I’d be glad to help in any way I can.”

It was only a short walk back to the shop and once they’d reached it, Ellen led the way around to the side of the building to the foot of an exterior staircase. “The rooms will need a
goot
cleaning and airing out, but there’s a cot in the storeroom. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to, until you find something permanent. I’ll warn you, though, the place hasn’t been dusted in over a year. It’s probably full of cobwebs.”

“Spiders I can deal with,” Gail declared, gazing up the metal staircase that somewhat resembled a fire escape. “They don’t bleat at night like sheep.”

She laughed, and Ellen laughed with her. Then Gail grew serious. “How can I thank you enough?” Tears suddenly glistened in her eyes. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.
Ever.
”

“I’m glad that I can help. I just feel bad that I didn’t think of this sooner,” Ellen told her. “I’ll have to tell my father and Dinah that you’re staying here, of course, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to anyone else about it. Let’s just keep it a secret between us.”

“Because you’d get into trouble with your church...for helping someone who left their community.” Gail nodded. “I understand.” She offered a trembling smile, and her cheek grew pink. “I guess you already figured it out, but my name isn’t Bond. It’s Bontrager. Abigail Bontrager.”

Ellen returned the smile. “I’m pleased to meet you, Abigail Bontrager.”

She shrugged. “Everyone will know soon enough that I fibbed, anyway. My brother found my birth certificate and my social security card and sent them to me, so Margaret won’t get in trouble for letting me work there.”

“So your family knows where you are?” Ellen asked.

Gail shook her head. “Just my brother, and he won’t tell. He’s leaving home, too, as soon as he turns eighteen. One of my mother’s uncles is going to hire him to work on his dairy farm. He’s going, but he’s not turning English.”

“And you are?”

“Maybe, I’m not sure. It’s something I have to think about.” Again, she stared at her canvas sneakers. “I’m just, you know...trying it out.”

“Your community would take you back,” Ellen said thoughtfully. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You can always go home, if it’s what you want.”

Gail sighed. “
Nay.
I can’t. I won’t.”

“But surely your mother and father—”

“You don’t know my father.” Gail shook her head. “He would never forgive me, no matter what the bishop or the elders said.” She glanced up at Ellen, making eye contact. “Not all fathers are kind ones.”

There was something in Gail’s tone that made Ellen think there was more to her story. She was suddenly grateful for the man who was her father. She had always known how blessed she was, but sometimes it took a reminder, such as this girl in the faded dress, to remind her that she should give thanks every day for the family God placed her with.

Gail glanced up the stairs, clearly eager to investigate her new quarters.

Ellen reached into her apron pocket, plucked out a ring of keys, sorted through them and removed the key that would unlock the door at the top of the steps. “You go on up and look around,” Ellen said, handing the key over. “I’ll see about that cot and some bedding and cleaning supplies. I need to let Dinah know you’ll be staying here.”

* * *

After looking in on the high-school girl behind the counter, Ellen climbed the stairs to Dinah’s apartment on the second floor. Dinah was busy making oatmeal-raisin cookies to take to a friend and invited Ellen to have a cookie just out of the oven that was as big as the palm of Ellen’s hand. They were one of Dinah’s specialties that always went over well at potlucks and schoolhouse auctions.

Ellen accepted the sweet, warm cookie, spiced with cinnamon and told Dinah about inviting Gail to stay in the third-floor apartment. Her decision didn’t go over as easily as she had hoped. Ellen tried to convey Gail’s plight sympathetically, but Dinah’s brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed behind her glasses. If she’d been a hen, Ellen could picture her feathers ruffling.

“You can’t be serious,” Dinah exclaimed. “I don’t believe you handed a total stranger the keys to your shop and told her to make herself at home. You’re too trusting, Ellen.”

“She’s Amish, the age of your own granddaughter. She’s just a young girl who needs a friend. And having her up there on the third floor is no danger to us or the business.” Ellen shrugged. “I didn’t give her the keys to the shop, just to those unused rooms in the attic. The inside door from the third story to the hall is locked. What harm could she do?”

Dinah pursed her lips and again Ellen imagined an angry chicken, beak poised to peck. “It isn’t as if we haven’t had prowlers before. Have you forgotten the fire that nearly ruined your father? I warrant that was no accident.”

Ellen waved away her older friend’s objection. “That was years ago. Gail would have been only a child. Surely you don’t think she started the fire.”

Dinah shook an accusing finger. “You’re a softy for a sad story.”

Ellen took a big bite of her cookie. “Doesn’t the Bible teach us to offer kindness to strangers?”

“What will your father say?”

“He’ll respect my decision.”
As should you,
Ellen thought, though she didn’t dare say it for fear of hurting Dinah’s feelings.

“I don’t know that he’ll agree with you. It sets a bad example, harboring a girl who’s run away from her people.”

“It will be all right. I promise.” She got up from the table to hug Dinah. “You’re not fooling me. You aren’t as prickly as you’d like to pretend. You’ve a generous heart.”

Dinah squeezed her back and pushed her gently away. “I hope I do,” she murmured, “but when you’ve lived as long as I have and seen people behave in ways they shouldn’t, maybe you won’t be so trusting.”