The Promised Amish Bride

by Marta Perry

  Before Aaron could come up with something to distract Daniel, it was done for him.

  “That looks like a tool chest over there. I have to have a look.” Daniel headed off, intent.

  “I’m sorry.” Aaron rushed the words off. “He didn’t know... I mean, nobody suspects anything. I wouldn’t talk about it.”

  “It’s all right.” The pink had washed out of her cheeks, leaving her looking a little pale. “I understand. Daniel would never say anything like that if he knew.”

  Sally’s response was so heartfelt that it was a separate little barb in his heart. She understood. She always had, and she always would. That was what made this whole thing between them so hard.

  She seemed to sense his inner struggle. “It’s all right,” she said, her soft words meant only for him. “We were friends first of all, and that doesn’t change. We’re still friends.”

  “Denke.” He should be grateful that Sally was being sensible about the situation. So why should that annoy him at the same time? Was he mean enough to want her to show the world a broken heart?

  Chapter Twelve

  Sally leaned back in her spot at the kitchen table with a sigh of satisfaction. Supper had been a light meal of Elizabeth’s homemade vegetable soup, and it had been just right after a long day spent at the school auction.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if today was the best school auction we’ve had in years.” She smiled at Ben and Elizabeth. “Thanks to all the support we had.”

  “Yah, it was gut. Caleb said he’d try to have the totals by tomorrow.” Ben’s gaze turned toward the harness that was slung over the back porch railing, clearly visible through the screen door.

  “You can’t wait to get that harness polished up,” Elizabeth said, topping off his coffee. “I see you eyeing it. I think you men are even worse than women when it comes to finding a bargain.”

  “It’s not for me,” Ben protested. “It’s chust what Daad needs for the pony cart. He wouldn’t want me to pass it by when it’s in such fine shape.”

  “I guess not.” Elizabeth patted the fat brown teapot she’d found. “I never thought I’d find the perfect teapot. And so cheap, too.”

  Sally’s lips curved. That was the great thing about a sale...everyone donated and then they all went home with something they needed. The school made money for repairs and equipment and, she hoped, some new books she’d had her eye on.

  “I don’t think there was a thing left at the end,” she said. “Elizabeth’s pies disappeared in no time at all. Folks knew something good when they saw it.”

  Elizabeth brightened, but only for a moment. Her gaze moved back to the back door, left open so they could hear the phone from the phone shanty. Daad had said he’d call tonight. Maybe he’d have news of Alice’s baby.

  Elizabeth would try to be happy for Alice. She would be happy. But Sally understood now how each new baby reminded her of her loss. She’d felt the same each time she’d seen a courting couple walking around the sale, eyes only for each other. Each glimpse had been a fresh pain in her heart for what could never be.

  Sally had gotten up to put her dishes in the sink when they heard the sound they’d been waiting for. The phone rang, and since she was already on her feet, she beat Ben to the back door. They jostled each other, each trying to get to the phone shanty first.

  Sally snatched up the receiver, edging Ben out by a step. “Hello. Daadi?”

  Her father’s deep voice boomed from the phone, and she held it so the others could hear.

  “Gut news! Our Alice has a baby girl—chust as sweet and pretty as can be. They’re both fine, thank the gut Lord.”

  Sally breathed a silent prayer of thankfulness. “That’s wonderful. How much does the little one weigh? Does she have hair?”

  Daad chuckled. “A little wisp of hair so light it’s almost white. Mammi says it will darken up. And she weighs almost seven pounds.”

  “Tell them we’re wonderful happy for them,” Ben shouted into the receiver. Like Daad, he seemed to think yelling helped the telephone carry his message.

  “Yah, yah, I will. Your mammi says to tell you all she misses you.”

  “We miss you, too, Daadi.” They couldn’t know how much Sally longed to have them near enough to confide in. “When will you be coming home?”

  “As for that, I don’t know. There’s lots to be done here with getting the new church district organized. These young folks actually seem to appreciate having us old people around to advise them.”

  A whisper of concern ran along her nerves. Daadi almost sounded as if he were growing attached to that new place. He was always one who liked a challenge. Maybe he felt as if life here in Lost Creek had gotten stale.

  “We need you here, too.” She couldn’t say more, much as she’d like to. That would be selfish. “So come back soon. Give our love to everyone.”

  Sally handed the phone over to Ben to say his goodbyes, trying not to let dismay get the upper hand. Maybe she was being selfish, but if Mamm and Daad decided to stay out there, what would become of her?

  Her gaze caught the expression on Elizabeth’s face, and she felt ashamed of her own self-centeredness. Elizabeth was struggling with a far deeper pain, and Ben, being more obtuse than usual, didn’t even recognize it.

  She slipped her arm around Elizabeth’s waist as she turned toward the kitchen. “It’s getting chilly out here now. Let’s get inside and try out that new teapot of yours. Want to split one of those whoopie pies we brought home?”

  Elizabeth seemed grateful to have something else to focus on. “Yah, I’d like fine to give it a try. Denke, Sally.”

  They went inside, closing the door against the evening chill. Ben stopped inside the door and stretched. “Ach, what an end to a busy day, ain’t so? We had a wonderful gut sale, and our little Alice has a new baby girl. Quite a day.”

  “Yah, it was.” Sally sent him a warning glare, but he didn’t seem to get the message.

  “Sounds like he and Mamm are really enjoying life out there. Could be they’ll decide to stay.”

  She’d hoped she was reading too much into Daad’s comments. But if even Ben, obtuse as he was, had noticed it, it could be real.

  Elizabeth turned away from the kettle and came to put her arm around Sally’s waist in much the same gesture Sally had used. “Don’t worry about it. I think they’ll be eager to get home before long. And if they don’t, you know you always have a home with us.”

  Naturally that was what she’d say. It was automatic in any Amish family. But Sally heard the real caring that underlay the words, and though it wasn’t the life she would have wanted, she was comforted.

  * * *

  The next week went quietly for Aaron. He started working with the new filly, and between that and the farm work, he kept busy. But not quite busy enough, since he found he was thinking of Sally too much.

  Still, it was better not to see her. Better for both of them, he felt sure. But it was a long week.

  Worship was held the following Sunday morning at the home of a distant cousin of the King family, Elijah Esh. That meant that Aaron and his brothers arrived early to help with the final setup for worship.

  Elijah and Mary had a large prefab shed that they used when they hosted worship, and it was easy to see that the family had been hard at work removing the equipment that usually lived in the shed and scrubbing the space until it shone.

  The church wagon was pulled up next to the shed, and Aaron joined Daniel and Onkel Zeb in pulling the benches out and carrying them inside. Timothy scurried along behind them, eager to help, while Caleb took Jessie and the baby into the kitchen to wait until time for worship. Becky marched along with them, proudly toting the diaper bag.

  Onkel Zeb grabbed one end of a bench before Aaron could beat him to it. “I told Caleb to wait and bring Jessie and the baby a bit later. It’s a
mite cold out this early for such a little one.”

  “I’m sure Jessie will enjoy a quiet gossip with Mary in a warm kitchen before everyone comes flooding in.” Aaron swung his end around so that he was the one to walk backward.

  “Yah, I guess so.” Zeb shook his head at the teenage boy who tried to take his end of the bench. “Ach, I’m not that old yet. Aaron, you remember Elijah and Mary’s oldest boy, Adam, yah?”

  The boy grinned at him. “I’ve changed since you last saw me.” His voice was as low as his father’s.

  “You have. I’d say the least Onkel Zeb could do is let you carry a bench, given how big you are.”

  “Yah, that’s so. Timothy and I can take it, ain’t so, Timmy?”

  Timothy’s small chest expanded. “Sure thing. Let us, Onkel Zeb.”

  Zeb handed it over. “What can I do, with two young men eager to help?”

  Relieved, Aaron saw Onkel Zeb move off to greet Elijah’s father. Always so eager to carry his share of the load, that was Zeb, but it was time he took things a little easier.

  And if you leave again? The small voice in the back of his mind asked the question. Who will be around to lend a helping hand until Timothy and his baby brother are old enough to step in?

  He didn’t want to go where that question led him. He hadn’t even thought about things like that before his world had fallen apart around him, and he felt a flicker of shame. It was one thing to pursue his call to the outside world and another thing entirely to cut off the family he’d left behind.

  That realization clung to his mind like a cobweb he couldn’t wipe away. Why had he given so little thought to them?

  At first it had been a necessity, he knew. If he’d thought too much about his family and his home, he’d have given up and gone home. Those first months had been hard, and it was only his pride that had kept him from heading back.

  Eventually he’d pushed his family so far back in his mind that he’d barely thought of them at all. There’d been nothing and no one to remind him that he’d once had another life.

  Now...now he couldn’t forget. If and when he left again, there would still be an unbreakable cord attaching him to this place and these people. And to Sally.

  Helping Adam arrange the benches kept his body occupied, but it didn’t do a thing to stop his thoughts. Images of her tossed and tumbled through his mind... Sally laughing, Sally pensive and even Sally looking at him with her blue eyes filled with love.

  How could he leave, knowing he’d never see her again? But how could he stay, seeing her and knowing she’d never be his?

  Once the service began, Aaron forced himself to concentrate on the songs and prayers. At first it was difficult, but he found his agitated thoughts mellowed by the long slow notes of the songs. His mind automatically made the adjustment to the High German that was used in worship and scripture. He found the familiar words of the readings resonated, waking his mind to their meaning.

  Odd, how he’d have said he’d forgotten all this during his years away. It wasn’t forgotten; it had simply been stored temporarily, ready to come back the moment he needed it.

  The longer sermon was given by the youngest of the ministers, a boy he remembered from school, only a few years older than he was. He’d never have said that Jacob Beiler had it in him to be a minister, but the call of God fell without the intervention of anyone else. God had chosen Jacob, and he’d grown into the job, it seemed.

  When the service had ended and the tables had been set up, he found himself sitting across from Ben. Aside from a little initial uneasiness the first time they’d met after he’d asked Aaron about his relationship with Sally, Ben had gone back to his usual manner. Today he was even a little more animated than usual.

  “Did you hear our news?” he asked around a large bite of sandwich. “Our Alice has had a baby girl.”

  “No, I didn’t know.” He’d guess Sally was relieved if that meant that her parents would soon be coming home. “Your mamm and daad must be happy.”

  “Ach, wonderful happy. Daadi called us last night, and he couldn’t stop talking. Seems like she’s the prettiest baby girl he’s ever seen, by the sounds of it.”

  If the birth of a new niece made Ben think of his own childless home, he didn’t let it show. And since Ben wasn’t subtle enough to hide his feelings, Aaron would guess that his happiness was genuine.

  He’d guess Elizabeth might be feeling differently. Sally had given him the idea that she was struggling when it came to that subject.

  It seemed a shame, given how many unwanted babies there were in the world, that good people like Elizabeth and Ben should be childless.

  Ben turned away to greet Bishop Thomas, who’d stopped at the end of the table, and regale him with their news. After congratulations and best wishes for the family, the bishop asked the question that Aaron had been wondering.

  “Does this mean we’ll have your mamm and daad back with us soon?”

  Ben’s plain, open face clouded over. “I don’t know. Seems like they’ve really gotten involved in helping that new community get on its feet. There aren’t so many Amish down in that part of southern Ohio, from what Daad says.”

  The bishop didn’t offer an opinion, but then, that wasn’t his way. He rested his hand on Ben’s shoulder for a moment. “You’ll tell them we’re missing them, yah?”

  Ben nodded and then turned away to answer a question about Alice from the woman who’d just put a full serving plate on the table. That left Bishop Thomas free to turn his attention to Aaron, who began to wish himself elsewhere.

  “I’ve been hearing about you, Aaron.”

  It swept into his mind to wonder who’d been reporting on him to the bishop before he realized Bishop Thomas was smiling.

  “Something gut, I hope.”

  “Ben says he had his doubts that gelding of Sally’s was even trainable, but I hear you’ve got him behaving like a lamb.”

  Aaron’s face relaxed. “I wouldn’t say Star was exactly lamblike, but I don’t think Sally will have any more trouble with him.”

  “You always did have a gift where horses were concerned.”

  He’d said what everyone did, and Aaron realized that coming from the bishop, the fact gratified him. Whatever else folks said about him, there was at least that positive thing.

  “Star just needed retraining, that’s all. Some folks skip past the fundamentals when it comes to horses.”

  “Some folks skip past the fundamentals when it comes to a lot of things,” Bishop Thomas said. “It never does work out, not in the long run. We just have to go back to the beginning—to the things we learned first.”

  He gave Aaron that characteristic pat on the shoulder and moved off before Aaron could respond. He sat still for a moment, pondering those words.

  Had the bishop been thinking of faith when he’d said that? Somehow that seemed to echo his feelings when he’d slipped back into the familiar worship without needing to consider it. Those, he supposed, were the beginning things—the things that a person knew in his heart without struggling.

  He wasn’t sure how long he’d have sat there, lost in thought, but one of the teenage girls who’d been pressed into service swept his plate out from in front of him. He realized that everyone else was getting up, so he followed suit. He’d have to leave deep thinking for another time.

  No one was in any hurry to clean up and get back on the road except perhaps for those teenage girls. They were probably eager to finish their work so they could gather in giggling groups, eyeing the boys who tended to talk a little louder and gesture a little more broadly when the girls were watching. He smiled, remembering what it felt like to be one of them, so caught up in what your peers thought that you didn’t have room for anything else.

  “Have some dessert?” Sally appeared next to him, carrying a tray with various kinds of cake and pie s
lices. “The lemon squares are all gone, but there’s plenty of chocolate cake.”

  “Thanks.” He picked up a slab of chocolate cake with what looked like caramel icing. If Sally could behave normally around him, the least he could do was follow suit. “I hear you have a new little niece.”

  Her smile sparkled. “A beautiful girl, so we hear. I wish I could go and see her. Maybe over Thanksgiving, when we have a few days off school.”

  “Your mamm will be eager to head back and see how she’s grown by then.” It occurred to him that it might not be the most tactful thing to say, especially when a tiny wrinkle appeared between her brows.

  “If they’ve come home by then. I keep fearing they’ll say they’ve decided to stay out there.”

  “Surely not. Their lives have been here. To say nothing of their other kinder.”

  “I hope you’re right.” She seemed to shake herself. “That sounds selfish.”

  “But understandable.” He couldn’t help thinking about that promise he’d once made to marry her when she grew up. If Sally were married, she wouldn’t have to worry about living with her brother and his wife for good.

  But there was no sense in thinking about something he’d already decided was impossible. “If they stayed out there, are you thinking that you might join them? Their community will probably need a teacher.”

  Now, that sounded as if he were trying to get rid of her. Why was he being so awkward around her?

  “No, I won’t do that.” Sally spoke with certainty. “I know where I belong, and it’s here.”

  Simple, it seemed, to her. Sally knew where she belonged. Too bad he couldn’t say the same.

  She started to turn away, and he spoke abruptly.

  “There’s something I ought to tell you.”

  She looked back at him, blue eyes questioning.

  “What we talked about...about why I left my job. I started thinking about what you said, and I decided I should write to Winfield. Just to tell him what happened from my side.”