Now, faced with his son’s resentment, he had to admit: A man cannot get much more desperate than to hire a wife.
His sister had done a good job, balancing her household and his . . . until the twins were born. For a while after the babies were delivered, Stella had tried traipsing back and forth between her house and his, and it still shamed him to remember Karl’s frantic plea: “If she keeps up this pace,” his brother-in-law had said, “I fear I will lose her.” Since none of the eligible women in Pleasant Valley wanted to step into Stella’s shoes, Karl had suggested his second cousin, Bethel Mast. “If she is such a prize,” Aaron had asked, “why is she unmarried?” Karl held his tongue, in part because he worked for Aaron, in part because he avoided altercations whenever possible. “Beth was born with a limp, and everyone thinks it likely rendered her barren.”
The distinctive clatter of steel wheels grinding along the polished tracks broke into his thoughts. The train would screech to a stop any minute now, and when it did, he’d stand face-to-face with the woman who would soon become Mrs. Aaron Bontrager. “We cannot condone a woman living in your home without benefit of marriage,” Bishop Fisher had said. And so it was decided: He would marry Bethel as soon as possible. But could he really go through with it? Should he go through with it?
Molly grasped his forearm and shook him into the here and now. “Tell me again, Daed, why our new mother limps.”
“She is not our mother,” Sam snarled. “She is here to cook and clean and take care of the chickens and goats. And that is all.”
“Sam!” Molly said. “Daed, make him stop saying such mean things!”
“Your sister is right, Son. Bethel is not a servant or a hired hand. She has a big, caring heart, and if you need proof of it, just think about everything she has given up, coming all the way out here to help us. We will welcome her and treat her like family—because that is exactly what she will be. Is that clear?”
The boy hung his head, but Aaron could tell that he’d pretty much made up his mind not to like Bethel. Aaron hung his head, too, and said a prayer for guidance. Things wouldn’t be easy, especially not at first, but they’d be a lot harder until Sam came around. If Sam came around.
Lord, I have a feeling I will call upon You a lot in the coming days.
“You never answered, Daed. Why does Bethel limp? I do not want to be rude and stare.”
“Why not just ask her?” Sam said. “Since she is so bighearted and all, I am sure she will be happy to tell you.”
Aaron chose to ignore his boy’s latest outburst. “The way I understand it, Bethel was born with the limp. No one knows what caused it. But Karl says she gets around as well as the rest of us.”
Passengers and those who’d come to greet them shared warm hellos and hearty hugs. It wasn’t enough activity to blot his own words from his mind: She will be family. In a week, two at most, he and Bethel would be husband and wife. Their union must appear traditional in every sense . . . on the surface. First chance he got, Aaron intended to take her aside and gently explain that he still felt bound by his vow to love Marta until death, and that while he’d happily share his name, his home, and his bed, he could never share his heart.
Aaron chuckled to himself. What makes you think she wants your too-old heart?
“Are you looking forward to meeting her, Daed?”
“I . . . well . . .” He cleared his throat. “What makes you ask?”
“You are smiling.”
“Yes, I suppose I am looking forward to meeting Bethel.” And living like a normal man for a change.
“You said she sounds like a very nice lady.”
He remembered the slight tremble in her voice, and how edgy she’d sounded, asking and answering questions. To her credit, Bethel had laughed, too. Several times. And the music of it had given him hope that as they worked toward providing a stable home for the children, they might one day develop a companionable partnership.
“Yes, Molly, a very nice lady.”
He’d learned a few things about her during their two hourlong phone conversations. For starters, she wasn’t a whiner. She hadn’t complained about the businesslike arrangement between her father and himself, the hurry-up nature of the final conclusion, or the 26-hour train ride from Nappanee, Indiana. It had been her agreeable attitude that prompted him to reserve the sleeper car for her, rather than a regular seat. God willing, it had made the trip a bit more pleasant.
“I hope she can cook,” Sam said. “I am hungry.”
“You are always hungry. Why, you eat more than Daed’s horse! I am sure that she can cook. But if not? She will learn.”
They didn’t call her Molly the Peacemaker for nothing, Aaron thought, grinning at his daughter.
“What will we call her, Daed?”
“Anything but Maem!” Sam shot an imploring glance at Aaron, and in that moment, he looked like the carefree boy he’d been before Marta’s death. “Please, Daed, do not make me call this stranger Maem.”
“Karl calls her Beth. That or Bethel will do. Once she has been with us a while, we can ask what name she prefers.” Aaron had already decided to call her Mrs. Bontrager, a factual title that would ensure a respectful emotional distance remained between them.
When the train slowed, little Matthew gasped quietly and pressed his cheek to Aaron’s knuckles, pressed so close that he couldn’t tell which of them was trembling . . . the boy, or himself.
“Relax, kids.” Who are you reassuring . . . you? Or them? “In time, everything will be fine. She will be good for us. You will see.”
Even Molly, the eternal optimist, looked doubtful. “How can you be so sure, Daed?”
“Because, sweet girl, I have prayed on it, long and hard, and I believe it is God’s will.” For us, and hopefully for Bethel, too.
At last, the train came to a full stop.
And for an uneasy instant, so did his heart.
Amish Christmas Twins Page 26