The Amish Bride of Ice Mountain (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Mary couldn’t help but feel excited knowing that Jude would be coming that night. She realized that she had missed this
Amisch
aspect of dating, the secret alone time, and was grateful for the chance to experience it.

She’d gone to her room to wash up and redo her hair into its heavy mass beneath her prayer
kapp
. And then she chose a clean blouse of light blue to put on beneath her black dress and apron. She added a few drops of homemade rosewater to the places behind her ears, hoping that Jude would discover the scent, then went out to the main room to sit with Bear for a bit.

The dog was still tired often but had made an amazing recovery, though he’d lost his right eye and limped a bit when he walked. But even her
Dat
considered him the family hero for killing a wounded bear, and he’d gained a great deal of loving attention from everyone as he grew better.

Mary sat on the couch, keeping quiet and still, glad that her
fater
and
bruders
had gone to bed and no light shone from beneath their doors. Normally, the first time an
Amisch
man would come to court, he’d already have identified the girl’s bedroom window and would throw pebbles at the glass to let the girl know he was outside. Then she would decide to let him in or not. Mary smiled at the thought of teasing Jude and not letting him in but knew that she didn’t have the heart to do it to him. And as it was, she was having trouble controlling her own excitement at the prospect of maybe a few kisses or a caress from her handsome husband.

She closed her eyes, daydreaming as she rubbed Bear’s fur, then was startled back to the moment by a light knock at the front door. She gave a quieting pat to Bear’s head and skimmed across the floor to open the door. Her eyes drank their fill of Jude in the black
Amisch
coat and hat, and he already had a subtle shadow of beard growth on his fine face, making him look faintly piratical and all the more appealing.

“A
gut nacht
to you, Mary Lyons,” Jude said, slipping off his hat. “May I
kumme
in?”

Ach, he’s so formal, maybe he’ll not attempt a kiss at all . . .
She widened the door and returned his serious greeting while Bear made his own welcome.

Jude slipped out of the coat and she noticed that he’d changed into a burgundy-colored shirt which suited his skin and eyes well.

She hung up his coat and hat on the pegs beside the door, then turned, feeling a bit shy. “We have to be quiet,” she whispered.

He nodded gravely. “What’s your favorite color?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “Mine’s green. What’s yours?”

She wondered where he was going with the conversation as she indicated with a sweep of her hand that they might sit on the couch.

“Blue,” she said softly. “Like your eyes.”

“
Danki
, and your favorite season?”

“Summer. Is this a test?”

“Jah,”
he answered. “I also need your darkest fear and the secret you have that no one else knows . . .”

He gave her an expectant look and she stared at him, feeling at a loss. “Well, I . . .”

“Go on,
sei se gut
.”

Maybe his sugar is low
. . . She bit her lip in thought and Jude made a low sound in the back of his throat.

“Don’t bite your lip,” he half pleaded.

She stopped but then some female instinct made her rub her tongue tip over the part of her lip she’d bitten and she heard his breath catch. Her heart beat faster and she leaned nearer to him, but he had his hands folded in his lap and appeared resolute in keeping them there.

“My darkest fear,” she whispered, reaching to run a hand down the hard muscle of his arm. “Let’s see . . .” She wanted to spin out her words, like wool on a loom, and wrap him up, cocoon him in heat. “I’m afraid of bats,” she confessed, leaning close to the tanned length of his throat. “I’ve heard they bite.” She surprised even herself by taking an experimental taste of his skin, letting her teeth scrape against him, finding him both salty and sweet. He groaned and arched his neck.

“Mary, what are you . . .”

She let her hands splay over the breadth of his chest, not missing the tension in his body as her fingers found a pin near the center of his shirt and she slowly withdrew it.

“I don’t especially like the howl of a wolf . . . not when it’s lonely and sad. It makes me hurt inside.” Her fingers slid beneath his shirt in the small gap and pinched at the taut skin. “Do you know what I mean?”

She wanted to smile when she saw that he was having difficulty concentrating and that his hands were now white where he clenched them together.

“No . . . yes . . .” he muttered as she found another pin and took it, wriggling her fingers further across his bare skin.

“And should I tell you secrets?” she asked, sliding her hand over the tempting line of his taut rib cage.

He was breathing deeply, his handsome face flushed, and he nodded as if hearing her words from far away.

“Tell me anything you want,” he finally gasped, then turned his body to press hers into the soft cushions of the couch.

 

 

Jude was amazed at her responsiveness, the yielding of her soft lips, and the hands she used to thread through his hair and down to touch his shoulders.
Right here. Right now . . .

But his mind intruded where his body held hard attention. He’d probably regret it later, but he had no desire to make love to his wife for the first time half-on and half-off a small couch, with her brothers and father in the next rooms. And she deserved better than some hurried, fully dressed groping . . . He sat up abruptly and dragged her with him.

“Mary—Mary . . . listen. I want . . .”

“
Ach
, I know what you want.” He saw her smile in profile as she nuzzled against him.

“Yes . . . I mean, no. Mary . . .” He caught her shoulders in a gentle grasp.

“Look, sweetheart . . .”

She drew back and studied his face. “Wait . . . you mean you’re turning away . . . again?” Her voice rose with agitation.

“No, I’m not turning . . . well, I want us to . . . you to . . .”

She flounced out of his hands and leaned back on the couch, crossing her arms.

“Jude Lyons, I do believe you . . . you are a teaser!
Jah
, that’s truth.”

He winced as her voice increased in volume. “Mary, shh,
sei se gut
.”

“
Ach
, don’t you use your Penn Dutch with me,
Herr
Teaser. I am done. This courting night is over.” She got up and stormed to her bedroom, opening and slamming the door.

Jude looked at Bear. The dog grunted and, almost on cue, Abner’s and the boys’ doors opened. Jude rolled his eyes and prepared for the onslaught even while he longed to go after his wife.

Abner appeared, easing a suspender up and rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on out here?”

Jude got up and walked to the front door. “Courting, Abner . . . your daughter and I are courting!”

He hollered the last word loud enough to be sure Mary had heard, then stepped out into the cold night, closing the door behind him and wondering where he’d gone wrong.

 

 

Mary pressed her hands to her hot cheeks in the darkness of her room. She was embarrassed and ashamed of her behavior, but it had also felt
gut
to let go of her temper for once. Yet she must be over-tired to have reacted so angrily when Jude had obviously been thinking—while she’d been . . . She closed her eyes in the dark as her face flamed anew
. What must he think of me? But I didn’t plan on behaving that way—he was simply so attractive and
Amisch
-looking and . . . and . . .

“But I am his wife,” she said aloud suddenly.
And I am determined to have a marriage and not simply a wedding, to be a wife and not merely a bride. Grossmuder
May’s words rang in her mind:
And that includes more than the bedding . . .

“
Ach
,
jah,
it does!” she exclaimed.

And then she laughed and knew instinctively that her behavior of the evening had maybe been exactly what it should have. She couldn’t wait to see what Jude would do next.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Jude entered the Umbles’ house, feeling both discouraged and frustrated.
Herr Teaser . . . Great, Lyons . . . great.
Now he wanted nothing more than the relative comfort of the Umbles’ guest room, where he’d be living for the month.

He moved through the dark kitchen and almost jumped out of his skin when the bishop spoke from the living area.

“Well, that was the shortest courting time on record—did you have a fight?”

Jude caught his breath. “No . . . why are you up? Is that part of the
Amisch
tradition?”

The old man laughed and turned up a kerosene lamp. “
Kumme
and sit for a moment. I couldn’t sleep and was thinking on a book I’d read recently. Mr. Ellis, at the bottom of the hill, you know, loans me books now and then.”

Jude came with reluctance and found a seat in the warm glow of light. “A Bible translation?” he asked.

“You must think me an entirely boring man—spiritual, but boring.
Nee
, here.”

Jude caught the thin paperback easily. He leaned into the light to read the title.
“Shipwreck at the Bottom of the World—The Extraordinary True Story of Shackleton and the Endurance.
This is what you read?”

“
Jah
, it’s about Ernest Shackleton’s exploration attempt in Antarctica.”

“I know the story somewhat.”

The bishop nodded. “But do you know about what they call now the Third Man factor?”

“Are you allowed to be reading this stuff?”

“Answer my question.”

Jude settled more comfortably in his chair. “
Nee
, I don’t know it.”

“They say it’s when those in dire peril of their lives have felt a sudden presence at their side, inspiring them to hang on and to survive. Shackleton and the two men who hiked out felt it, said it always felt like ‘a fourth man’ walked with them, kept them going. Another fellow hiking Mount Everest thought the presence was so real, he offered to share a snack, and another—”

“Wait a minute. I know this!” Jude couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice. “I had the same experience.”

The bishop raised a shaggy eyebrow at him.

“No, really. Right when Mary and I were leaving Ice Mountain, we stopped at the Ice Mine and I fell in. I saw the shadow of another man who helped Mary pull me up and out. I wouldn’t have survived without that . . . presence. And when I think back to it, I feel this tremendous feeling of peace and hope when I consider that . . . other man.”

“Very strange,” the bishop mused. “I could not sleep tonight because of the desire to tell you about this book. I wonder if it’s a message for you from
Derr Herr
? Do you know, there’s an another man story in the Bible?”

Jude shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

“Then I’ll sum it up for you—wouldn’t want you to be bored . . . A king insisted all men worship his golden idol. Three young Hebrews refused to worship any but
Derr Herr.
The king had them thrown in a fire so hot, it killed the guards who did the throwing. Then, while the king and his court watched, the three young men walked around in the fire, but the Presence of a fourth man could be seen walking with them through the flames.”

“What happened then?” Jude was surprised to discover he was genuinely curious.

“
Ach
, the three men came out unharmed, even their clothes not burned. And the king worshipped
Derr Herr
. Maybe he figured a God who walks with you through life’s fires—or ice—is better than no god at all.”

Jude knew a strange conviction in his heart at the old man’s words. How had he been living lately? In truth, feeling like he’d lost his home in Atlanta, but maybe this Presence, the one at the Ice Mine, the one he’d discovered here, in this place, could give him a new home and a new beginning . . . and could help him find his way with Mary.

He met the wise old eyes of Bishop Umble and smiled.
“Danki.”

“Anytime,
sohn
. Anytime.”

Isaac Mast was buried the following day, ten days before Thanksgiving. Mary dressed all in black, as was the custom, for the sober affair. She kept her eyes downcast as she filed past the wooden coffin, glancing only briefly at Isaac’s still face through the glass top third of the coffin. The mountain
Amisch
cemetery was on the lonely side of a shadowy hill, and she was glad of Jude’s arm as she navigated the slippery ground. The graveside words of Bishop Umble were brief, and soon the community was headed back to the horses and sleds.

Jude hadn’t spoken to her about the night before. In truth, there was no time to speak about much of anything as Joseph took her arm to help her into the sled beneath the pile of quilts. She worried that she wouldn’t be able to talk with Jude at all until he leaned over the edge of the sled and bent as if to brush something from her cheek.

“I’ll be over tonight. Is that all right?”

She couldn’t suppress the flush of pleasure at his request and gave a demure nod, though inside, she was brimming with happiness
. And I know exactly what we’ll do . . .

 

 

Jude hadn’t realized, when he’d spent the summer researching, how much hard physical work was involved in keeping a fair-sized farm running, but the bishop seemed determined that he learn. Bishop Umble and his wife kept cattle as well as a good-sized garden. But Jude discovered that the cattle feed yard, where the big animals were moved off the pastures, was the place much of his day was spent. He privately vowed never to own cattle, which raised the question in his mind as to whether or not he’d be happy simply farming on the mountain.

A young calf jolted him back to the present with a knock on the hip.

“Taking
gut
care of these cattle means hard work in the winter and also
gut
concentration,” the bishop said as Jude rubbed at his side. “It’s not snowing today, so you can go and scrape the manure from the pens and put it into the fertilizer pile. The cattle need pens that are kept clean for good living.”

“Right,” Jude muttered, adjusting his
Amisch
hat and heading off for the pens.
Goat milk, and we’ll be vegetarians . . . no cattle.

Twenty-four pens and six back-breaking hours later, Jude went to his room to grab a set of clean clothes. He blew past Martha and didn’t miss the downward tilt of her nose at his smell.

“Going to the creek, Martha. I’ll be back.” He grabbed a bar of homemade soap from the kitchen sink as he hurried through.

“Jude, you will freeze,” she protested. “I will heat water.”

“Nope.” He started to whistle a few notes and slung a towel over his shoulder and picked up a lantern. “I’ll be fine.”

 

 

I am going to freeze to death . . .
He was shivering so badly in the frigid, ice-crusted water that he could barely manage to hang on to the soap, but he was determined to be clean to court Mary. He knew the
Amisch
didn’t bathe every day, but hours in the manure pens surely required drastic measures. He managed to wash his hair, jumped out to towel off for a few mind-numbing seconds, then dressed and drew on Henry’s Sunday coat and even cleaned the boots Ben Kauffman had given him with mud and snow, then rinsed them in the creek. By then, his fingers were so cold, he decided he wouldn’t be able to manage the reins on the sled and knew that a brisk jog would probably be a better way to get to Mary.

He hurried back to the Umbles’ with his things and Martha greeted him at the door.

“See, you’re freezing,” the old woman declared, hands on hips.

“N-nee.”
Jude shivered as he spoke. “Invigorated, Martha. Ready to court.”

“You’re not supposed to tell anyone,” she scolded.

He smiled at her, then bent to give her a spontaneous kiss on the cheek. “Don’t tell, then, Martha,” he whispered.

She actually giggled like a girl and he laughed until she took his things and shooed him back out the door with her apron. He took a deep breath of the cold air, then plunged into his jog, deciding that life was all right for the moment.