The Amish Bride (6 page)

“That was a small one,” she agreed as Micah got back into the buggy. “You don’t usually see them on the roads by the first of September.” This wasn’t the first time Micah had shown compassion for a small animal. She remembered him catching a six-inch black snake in the school cloakroom. Some of the other boys had wanted him to snap its neck against the shed wall, but he’d faced down two sixth graders and marched the snake to a hedgerow where he released it in the brush.

“I always liked box turtles,” Micah said. “When we were young, Neziah and I always wanted to keep them as pets and train them to do tricks, but
Dat
wouldn’t let us. He always made us put them back exactly where we found them. He said they have their own territory, and if you move them out of it, they won’t rest until they get back to where they belong. A lot of them are run over by cars on the roads. I feel sorry for them, so I always take them across when I see one.” He arched an eyebrow. “You probably think it’s dumb.”

“Nay.”
She shook her head. “I think it’s a decent thing to help any of God’s creatures.” She smiled in approval. “And I think you are a
goot
person, Micah Shetler, one any woman would be proud to have court her.”

* * *

The day at the shop was spotty, customer-wise. No one would come in for an hour, and then two or three cars would stop. Once, Ellen was ringing up an English woman, Dinah was showing quilts to another and two more people were waiting in line. At midday, she and Dinah took advantage of a lull in business to take their lunches out onto the porch where they could eat and watch the tourists and her Amish neighbors drive by.

“I’m so excited about the new watercolors that arrived today,” Ellen told Dinah as she took another bite of her ham salad sandwich. There were four watercolors of Amish scenes painted by an ex-Amish woman in another area of the state. Each one showed a different season of the year. Her favorite, summer, was a scene of a mother hanging clothes on a line. Two daughters helped while a baby played on a blanket. All of the figures were shown from the back so that none of the faces could be seen, a concept that fit perfectly with the Plain way of living. The artist had signed her work simply as Rachel. Ellen thought the paintings were beautiful. The colors were soft blues and greens, and the frames were handcrafted of cherry. She expected them to sell quickly because Amish art was a favorite with her out-of-state customers.

“They’re fine paintings,” Dinah agreed, sipping from a pop can. She cocked her head toward the shop. “Did you hear something?”

“I don’t think so.” Ellen shook her head. “What do you mean?”

“It’s nothing.” Dinah adjusted her glasses. “Been hearing things all week. Yesterday morning I was sure I heard someone on the back porch in the middle of the night. Silly.”

“Do you think someone was trying to break in?” Ellen asked, immediately concerned. They had a very low crime rate in Honeysuckle, but she wasn’t so naive as to think nothing bad could ever happen.

“No, nothing like that,” Dinah pshawed. “I should probably have my hearing checked next time I see that doctor.” She returned her full attention to Ellen. “What do you think you want to do with the watercolors?”

“I was thinking that we have enough stock to open the other front parlor.” Pushing the last corner of bread into her mouth, Ellen carefully folded the waxed paper and tucked it into her lunch box to use again. “I think pottery and the two Windsor chairs would go nicely in there with the paintings and the carvings. Then we’d have more room in the main area for jams and the display of baby clothing.”

“Jah,”
Dinah agreed. Since she lived upstairs in the apartment, the older woman could easily have gone up to have her lunch, but eating on the porch was one of the highlights of their day. “Remember, I’m leaving early today. Right after lunch. I’ve got to help Naomi get ready for tomorrow night’s haystack supper.”

“That’s fine, we can do it later in the week. I’d like to hang these paintings on the wall by the fireplace.” That section of the old house hadn’t been damaged in the fire, and the woodwork and floor were lovely in there. “I’ll have Carl make another of those oak benches and put it in there for customers to sit on.” Ellen removed a peach from her lunch box. It smelled heavenly. She took a bite, and juice ran down her chin. She quickly wiped it with a napkin. “How is the Blauch baby? Do the doctors know when he can come home?” She knew that the widows’ group’s upcoming supper was to raise money for Mary’s little Raymond. The baby had been born several months early and had been rushed to the children’s hospital in Philadelphia.

“Nay,”
Dinah said. “He has to be five pounds. He’s gaining, but he still has some other issues that have to be taken care of. It’s a blessing that Mary and David didn’t lose him, like the last two.”

“But the doctors are hopeful?”

“
Jah.
Little Raymond is a fighter. My daughter says the doctors expect him to be just fine.” She shook her head. “But the hospital bills are awful. The widows’ group can help, but I think the whole community will have to pitch in.”

Ellen nodded. Their faith didn’t hold with insurance, but whenever tragedy struck a member of the church, other families were quick to offer help. There had already been a livestock auction for the Blauch baby, and the youth group was planning a pancake and sausage breakfast. The bishop had asked for donations, and she knew her parents had contributed. It was one of the things that made life in Honeysuckle, and in all Amish communities, fulfilling. There were many families, but they came together as one when someone needed help.

As Ellen finished her peach, a tour bus pulled into the restaurant down the street, and dozens of people got out. Some went into the Mennonite restaurant, but others made their way toward the businesses along the street. A group of three women crossed over and came in Ellen’s direction.

“Maybe I should stay,” Dinah said. “You might need the help.”

“
Nay
, you go on. I’ll manage,” Ellen said. “Naomi and the others need you.”

“Are you coming to the supper?”

“I wouldn’t miss it. And I’ll bring that tray of brownies I promised you. Folks love their desserts.”

Dinah took her leave, and Ellen welcomed her potential customers. One of the three purchased an Amish rag doll and complete set of clothing for it. They were just making their way out when two more women entered. By 2:00 p.m., she’d surpassed the previous day’s total. Before the afternoon was over, Ellen had made two more substantial sales and several smaller ones. And in the midst of the confusion, two acquaintances arrived to add and remove food from the large freezers on her enclosed back porch.

Since electricity had been approved by the bishop for use in the shop, Ellen had convinced her parents that it would be worthwhile to buy several commercial freezers. Members of the Amish community paid a fee to rent space in the freezers, so there was constant coming and going. Often friends would come in to chat or drop off crafts for her to sell. It added to her enjoyment in managing the shop.

Just before closing, Lizzie Fisher stopped by to pick up her money from the sale of her quilt. Since there were no other customers in the store, Ellen made tea and the two sat and exchanged neighborhood news. Ellen reached over and clasped Lizzie’s hand. She was a petite girl of nineteen who appeared much younger. Far too young to be a widow and a mother of so many, Ellen thought. When her husband suddenly died recently, she was left with seven stepchildren, ranging in ages from three to thirteen. “How are you doing?”

“All right.” She nodded. “Everyone has been so kind. Selling that quilt was a big help to me.” Lizzie sighed. “The kids have taken the loss of their father very hard. Between trying to help them through this and managing the garden and the children, I don’t know when I’ll find time to return to my quilting. I keep telling myself that I should be working in the evenings after they go to bed, but...” She shrugged. “The days just keep getting shorter.” She finished her tea. “I better run. The kids are with family, but I don’t want to be gone too long.”

“I understand.” Ellen couldn’t imagine how full Lizzie’s day must be. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

Lizzie tucked a loose strand of dark auburn hair under her
kapp
. “Are you coming to the haystack supper tomorrow night?”

“Absolutely. My
vadder
and
mutter
,
too. They’re looking forward to it.”

“The kids are, too.” She offered a slight smile.

Ellen walked to the door with her. Lizzie limped slightly due to a birth defect, but it had never slowed her down. “You’re in my prayers, Lizzie. Please remember that.”

“
Jah
, I do. I think prayer is what will get us through this bad time. See you tomorrow night at the supper.”

Ellen was clearing away the teacups, the sugar and the milk when the sleigh bells on the front door jingled. To her surprise, it was Neziah who walked into the store, his wide shoulders filling the open doorway.

“Neziah.” She laughed, flustered, not sure why.

His two boys peeked around him into the shop.

“Stay where you are,” he warned them.

“It’s all right. They can come in.” Ellen walked toward them, drying her hands on her apron.

“Not unless you want half the things in your shop broken. A store is no place for them. Where they go, trouble follows.”

Ellen wasn’t sure how to respond; his observation was accurate. Instead, she just smiled.

“You close early on Wednesdays,” he said.

“
Jah.
I do.”

“And it’s past closing time. I was wondering—”

“Ice cream!” Asa blurted.

“We’re going for ice cream cones, and Asa and Joel and I thought maybe you’d like to come along,” Neziah explained. “Have one with us. I’d like to talk with you.”

Ellen knew immediately what he wanted to talk about. He wanted to talk about the fact that he wasn’t interested in courting her. He probably just wanted to discuss how they would handle their parents. To her surprise, she was disappointed. Just a little, though why, she had no idea. “Ice cream?”

“Don’t you like ice cream?” Asa demanded. “
Dat
said you did.”

Ellen smiled at Asa. “
Jah
, I do. Very much.” She couldn’t believe that he remembered she loved ice cream.

“I think they have strawberry,” Neziah said. “I’m buying.”

And he remembered her favorite flavor.
She sighed to herself. If this conversation had to take place, she thought this was as good a way as any. With the boys with them, it wouldn’t get too personal. Ellen’s smile widened at the boys. “How could I say no to strawberry ice cream?”

Chapter Five

N
eziah and the children waited on the front porch while Ellen went through her routine to close the shop for the day. She locked the side door that Dinah would use when she returned, and the inner back doors. She left the outer doors leading to the enclosed porch unlocked for those who might want access to the freezers. She counted out the cash drawer and locked the contents in an old safe that had come with the property. Then she turned off the lights. As she went out the front door she reversed the wooden sign in a window that read
Open
to reveal the other side, which declared:
Closed, Please Come Again.

“Almost ready,” Ellen said as she joined them on the front porch. “My push scooter is around back.”

“We can pick it up after we have our ice cream.” Neziah lifted his gaze to meet hers for just a second. “We thought maybe you’d ride home with us in the buggy.”

“Danki,”
she replied softly, following him down the steps. She was apprehensive about having this talk with Neziah, but she admired him for coming to her. Maybe he would have some idea about how to deal with their parents concerning the matter. Of course, she would have to make it clear to Neziah that just because they wouldn’t consider each other, that didn’t mean she was just going to agree to court Micah. Agreeing to court a man, at her age, was a serious matter. It meant she was considering marrying the man, barring any serious issues. Issues like the ones she and Neziah had encountered when they were courting.

Ellen smiled down at Asa as he trudged down the sidewalk, holding his father’s hand, and peering back at her with curiosity on his face. The boy spoke well for a four-year-old, although most of what he said was an echo of his brother. He was an attractive child, but like his father, appeared to be serious in nature.

Several cars passed as the four of them walked along the street, but Honeysuckle was only a small village, so traffic was light. The historic village, consisting of old stone-and-frame buildings, a few stores and a tiny post office in what used to be a bank, had been there since the early nineteenth century. Large trees shaded the homes and sidewalks, their gnarled roots pushing up through the concrete to make the path uneven, but the residents had long grown accustomed to the irregularities. Porches were lined with rocking chairs, window boxes of flowers and friendly neighbors who smiled and waved as Ellen, Neziah and the children passed.

“Afternoon, Ellen.” A gray-haired man looked up from his flower bed and raised a garden trowel in greeting. “Nice weather today.”

“Not too humid. Fall’s in the air,” she replied. “Your roses are wonderful.”

George beamed. He was a retired high-school principal and an avid gardener who had, several years ago, rescued a neglected Queen Anne–style house on Main Street and restored it.

Although most of the residents of the actual town of Honeysuckle were English, no one stared rudely or pointed fingers at the Amish in their quaint dress. Those
Englishers
who lived and worked there had long come to accept their Amish neighbors and were often on a first-name basis with them. It was a friendly village, a place where Ellen always felt at ease, unlike busy Lancaster or the larger towns that were overwhelmingly worldly.

McCann’s Grocery occupied the site of a 1920s schoolhouse, and the parking lot had once been the play yard. Several pickup trucks, a few cars and two gray Amish buggies stood outside the brick store. Baskets of fresh vegetables were displayed on wide tables on either side of the peaked entranceway. Jason, a teenage stock boy, stopped stacking watermelons to greet them.

“Hey, Ellen.”

“Hi, Jason,” Ellen said. “We’ve come for ice cream. What’s the flavor of the day?”

Jason, a freckle-faced redhead with a flattop buzz, grinned. “Peach. And it’s great!”

“I want a double dip!” Joel cried. “
Dat
, can I have a double dip?”

Ellen chuckled, looking down at the boy. “I think a single dip is plenty of ice cream, even for a big man like your
vadder
. You couldn’t eat a double if you tried.”

“I could!” Joel protested.

“Jah.”
Asa nodded vigorously. “I could.”

Neziah pushed open the door, and the boys rushed past him, dodged around the two checkout lanes and ran toward the ice cream counter, where another Amish family was waiting for their order.

Neziah held the door for Ellen. Their gazes met, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. “
Ach
, sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to interfere.” Why couldn’t she control her tongue? What Neziah did with his sons was none of her affair.

To her surprise, his expression was more relieved than defensive. He offered a lopsided grin that was similar to his brother’s. “You weren’t interfering. I agree with you. The servings of ice cream here are huge. One dip should be enough, but...” He shrugged. “It’s not easy knowing how strict to be with Asa and Joel when it comes to food.” He followed her in. “My
vadder
says that Joel is just healthy, a boy with a
goot
appetite and that his weight will even out over time. But Joel doesn’t run around like other boys his age. He always seems out of breath. I think he eats too much, but how do you refuse your child food when he tells you he’s hungry?”

“It must be hard for you, being both mother and father.” She reached into the pocket of her apron for her change purse, but Neziah stopped her with a wave of his hand.

“I told you this is my treat. I invited you.”

“Danki.”

The expression in his eyes warmed. “You know how it is, living with parents,” he said quietly. “My
vadder
is a wise man, and he has raised children to adults, and it’s not my wish to argue with him in his home, but...” He lifted a broad shoulder and let it fall.

“Sometimes it’s difficult for our parents to see us as grown-ups,” she offered. They reached the ice cream counter where Joel was bouncing eagerly.

“Two scoops,” Joel begged.

Neziah laid a hand on his shoulder. “Four cones,” he told the teenaged Amish girl behind the counter. “One dip each.” He glanced at her. “Strawberry?” She nodded, and he went on. “Two chocolate, one strawberry and a butter pecan.”

When they had all gotten their ice cream and Neziah had paid, Ellen took napkins from a dispenser and pointed out the window. “Would you like to go out back to the picnic area? The boys can play on the playground. It’s shady and we can eat without worrying about dripping ice cream all over the store.”

“
Goot
idea,” Neziah agreed. “I just need to remember to come back in and pick up a loaf of bread, and some ginger cookies for my
dat
. He likes a sweet after supper.”

“We want whoopie pies,” Joel said. He had ice cream on his chin. “The chocolate ones.”

Asa was busy licking his ice cream, and for once didn’t repeat what his brother had just said.

Neziah glanced at Ellen and then at his son as he led the way to a side door. “No whoopie pies today.”

McCann’s sold a large assortment of wooden sheds, lawn furniture, children’s play equipment, picnic tables and small, portable chicken houses for backyard flocks, all of which were enclosed by a tidy split-rail fence. Store customers were welcome to lunch or snack in the picnic area, and children were free to play on the sturdy swings, climbing walls and slides.

Ellen and Neziah sat down at a picnic table while the two boys ran to explore the play area. For a few minutes they just sat and ate their ice cream and watched the boys. This was something she’d always found admirable in Neziah. He didn’t always feel as though he had to keep a conversation going. It was one of the things she remembered fondly from the days when they had courted. The two of them would often go for long stretches of time without speaking. But he had asked her there to talk. She wondered if she should start the conversation.

Neziah pointed out a brown thrasher in the grass on the far side of the enclosed yard. “Bold, isn’t he?” He pointed to the little bird. “To be more concerned with what he can scratch out of the dirt than frightened of those two.” He indicated Asa and Joel, who’d devoured their ice cream cones and were now attempting to cross a narrow swinging bridge that led to a barn-red tree house at the top of the structure.

“We have a pair of brown thrashers nesting in our orchard,” she answered. “I think they raised little ones this summer.” She’d always favored the rusty-brown birds with their long tails and bright eyes. Thrashers were in the mockingbird family and usually got along well with other species of backyard birds, unlike the grackles and cowbirds.

Asa had successfully crossed the swaying bridge and was scampering ahead of Joel up the ladder to the small structure on stilts. Joel plopped down on the bridge and dangled his legs over the side of the wooden walkway. “Come on!” Asa yelled in
Deitsch
. Joel shouted back, but Ellen couldn’t make out what he’d said.

Neziah finished his last bite of cone and wiped his hands on a napkin. “I’m glad you came for ice cream, Ellen. I wanted to talk to you. Alone.”

“
Dat!
Dat!
Look at me!” Asa cried from the top of a sliding board.

“I see you!” Neziah waved and looked back at Ellen. “Well, not
exactly
alone,” he said wryly. “I’m never alone.”

Ellen popped the last bit of cone into her mouth.

He slid a napkin to her. “I wanted to talk to you about this whole courting business. First, I want to apologize for my
vadder
’s—” He shook his head. “I don’t even know what to call it.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Neziah.” She wiped her mouth and then her fingers, beginning to relax a little. He was being so kind. She didn’t know why she’d been nervous about talking with him about this. They weren’t kids anymore. They both knew what they wanted, and neither of them was going to be controlled by their parents. “My
vadder
was a part of it, too,” she told him. “I know our parents mean well, but sometimes it might be better if they didn’t get so...
involved
.”

He smiled and looked down at his hands. “My father, and my brother for that matter, can sometimes border on being meddlesome, but this time I think our fathers might have a point.”

Ellen had been watching Asa as he exited the tree house, sliding down a pole. She turned to look at Neziah, thinking she must have misheard him. “You think...” She just stared at him for a moment in confusion. Was he saying she
should
consider both him and Micah for a husband? That couldn’t have been what he meant. She could feel herself frowning. “You mean you think our fathers have a point in saying it’s time we each thought about getting married?”

He met her gaze. He was the same Neziah she had once thought she was in love with, the same warm, dark eyes, but there was something different now. A confidence she hadn’t recalled seeing on his plain face.

“Yes. And I think our fathers are right in saying that you and I, Ellen—” he covered her hand with his “—should consider courting again.”

Ellen was so shocked, it was a wonder she didn’t fall off the picnic table bench. Again, all she could do was stare at him. This was the last thing on earth she expected to hear from him. The warmth of his hand on hers made her shiver...and not unpleasantly. She pulled her hand away. “I...” She was rarely speechless. And had never been so with him, but she was so taken aback that she didn’t know what to say. “Neziah, I...”

“The past is the past,” he said when she couldn’t finish her thought. “I think it would be fair to say that we were both young then, emotionally if not in years. But we’re older. Wiser. Neither of us is the same headstrong, stubborn young person we once were. I know I’m not.” He kept looking at her, his gaze searching hers. “Ellen, I was in love with you once and I think—” he glanced at his boys “—I think I’m still in love with you.” He looked back at her. “I
know
I am.”

She glanced away. The boys were seesawing. The birds were chattering in the trees. She could hear a young woman speaking
Deitsch
through an open window in the store. The world around her seemed normal, but hearing a man—an Amish man—speak of his feelings was not something she normally encountered. Even her father, who had always been a sensitive man, avoided talk of his emotions when he could help it. “I... I don’t know what to say, Neziah,” she said finally.

“Then don’t say anything. Just think about it. Pray about it. It’s important to your parents that they see you married. I don’t mean this unkindly, but they’re aging. As a parent, I understand the desire to see your children happy and cared for.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “As for me, enough time has passed since Betty died. My boys need a mother and I need a wife. Everything my father said is true.” He shrugged. “We live next door to each other. It would be a good match. We would be able to take care of your parents and my father when the time comes that they can’t care for themselves. And I would be a good provider. The lumber mill is doing well, and you’ve sold two pieces of my furniture in your store in the last two weeks.”

Ellen studied his face for a moment, so confused, so overwhelmed that she couldn’t think straight. Neziah was still in love with her? That made no sense. They had ended their courtship mutually, agreeing they were unsuited as husband and wife. Neziah had never spoken of love before or after the courtship had ended. He had married another woman, had children. He couldn’t possibly have been carrying a flame for her for the last ten years. And yet...he sounded sincere.

Could she really consider courting Neziah? Would she actually consider marrying him?

Neziah would be a good catch for any woman. He was hardworking, intelligent and a faithful member of the church community in the prime of his life. While he might not be as strikingly handsome as his younger brother, Neziah’s appearance was pleasant. As a widower, Neziah had kept his beard, but it was close-cropped, and Ellen thought that the few flecks of gray scattered amid his dark whiskers gave him a distinguished appearance.