The Amish Wedding Promise

by Laura V. Hilton

  Zeke bowed his head with the others and silently repeated the prayer the missionary uttered.

  Peace, or something, fluttered to life inside Zeke. Filled him. He couldn’t keep from smiling.

  Not even Gracie and her issues could dampen his thoughts…

  He took in a deep breath. Okay, maybe they could affect his smile but not this new, amazing peace that settled deep within him despite the outside turmoil.

  Lord, danki for saving me. Help me to minister to Gracie as I should. And help Timothy to be found alive.

  A rock settled in the pit of his stomach. But Timothy should be the one to raise his own child, if she was in the family way. But wow, it hurt. He might be a fool for believing she was as attracted to him as he was to her and that her stories about Timothy were true…He exhaled. Then he would be a fool. He needed to be her friend.

  Help Gracie to find happiness and peace with her situation. He sighed. Help me to find peace with it, too.

  Zeke thanked the missionaries and returned to work. Most of the Amish hadn’t paid any attention to them being gone. But of course, except for Cliff, they were strangers. Zeke reached for a beam to swing himself back up, but Cliff grasped Zeke’s arm. There was peace in his eyes, too. “Want to go visiting with me tomorrow? I need to look for that boy.”

  So Cliff felt the same burden with Patience’s not-so-welcome news.

  “I heard that someone who resembles Timothy was seen in town,” Zeke said quietly. “They weren’t sure if it was him or not.”

  A strange light flashed in Cliff’s eyes. “Oh, it’s him. I’m sure of it.”

  * * *

  The field near Toby’s haus had about a dozen buggies parked in it. But people would be coming and going the rest of the day and the next for visitation. A church bench wagon was parked in the driveway. The family must’ve borrowed benches from another district.

  Grace trailed Elsie into the haus and filed past Toby’s body, looking at him one last time. She and Elsie murmured condolences to his parents; then they went to sit down beside Hallie, one on each side of her. Hallie’s icy fingers closed around Grace’s, and a strange sort of gasping sob escaped.

  Grace shifted closer to her friend as Timothy’s parents came in, their eyes red rimmed. His mamm openly wailed as she viewed Toby’s body, then embraced Toby’s mamm. She was still crying when she sat on the other side of Grace and murmured, “Horrible, horrible, horrible.”

  Grace gulped and grasped Lavina’s hand with her free one. “No word yet?”

  “Nothing. It’s like Timothy vanished into thin air,” Lavina sniffled.

  Which was kind of what he did, getting sucked up in a tornado.

  “And Peter is hovering between death and life. He hasn’t woken up from his coma yet. Maybe never will.”

  Grace had nothing to say to that. She squeezed Lavina’s hand. And Hallie’s.

  They fell into silence, except for sniffles and an occasional sob.

  Grace glanced at Toby’s body in the casket, then closed her eyes to pray for Toby’s soul. Then her prayers wandered from him to Peter and his family, to Hallie and her comfort, to closure for Timothy’s family, to Zeke.

  Oh, Zeke.

  Danki, Lord, for bringing him into my life. Please heal our relationship that I messed up by being impulsive, and if it’s Your will—she pulled in a breath—please open the doors for us to be together.

  Though that was an impossible dream.

  As impossible as Timothy walking in the backdoor.

  And then he did.

  Maybe.

  Chapter 16

  Zeke faced Cliff. “Are you sure of it?”

  Cliff shrugged. “I’m as sure as sure can be. There’s just a smidgen of room for doubt. The boy looks just like him, but he sure as shooting doesn’t act like him. Not that I ever liked the boy that much anyway.” He lowered his voice a little and Zeke leaned closer to hear him. “He seemed a bit two-faced to me. Acting and talking one way around the adults and Gracie but a totally different fellow when he thought he was alone or that no one who’d report back to the bishop or preachers was around. He used drugs, alcohol, and sometimes chewing tobacco or cigarettes…” Cliff shook his head and swung back up to the beam where he’d been working.

  Zeke followed suit. “Lots of Amish youngies do.”

  Cliff frowned. “Not just the youngies. It’s who you are when you think no one is looking that matters.” He shook his head. “That said, Alvin—he’s Timothy’s daed—said he told Timothy that if he wanted to live at home and inherit the family business, then he needed to straighten up, join the church, and marry some sweet Amish girl like our Gracie.”

  So that was why Timothy ordered Gracie to let him take her home? Told her they were getting married?

  Zeke’s stomach hurt.

  Cliff pounded in a nail. Picked up another.

  Zeke didn’t like Timothy very much at the moment. Gracie did have valid concerns. He glanced down at Seth, who was crouched beside a young child, helping him hold a hammer correctly. What had Gracie told Seth, and was he at all concerned?

  “Never dreamed the boy would actually— Well, jah, I know some kids get pregnant outside of marriage, but…” Cliff puffed out a breath. “Figured with Alvin’s warning, Timothy would respect our Gracie.”

  Zeke made a noncommittal grunt. Based on Cliff’s summary, Timothy didn’t sound like the sort of man Zeke would want courting or marrying his sister.

  “I prayed hard that Gott would stop the wedding if Timothy shouldn’t marry Gracie. He did, in a big way. I prayed Gott would send a nice young man for our girl to marry instead.” Cliff raised his head and looked into Zeke’s eyes. “He sent you.”

  Gracie had prayed the same thing. Had Gott gone to extreme lengths to bring Zeke here? He was so out of his league at the mercy of such a powerful Gott. A chill worked through Zeke’s bones. He shivered. His thoughts stalled.

  The wind suddenly gusted. Cold, cold air. Straw hats went flying. Someone at the top of the barn yelled something.

  Zeke looked up from his perch. And a man came tumbling down.

  * * *

  Grace sucked in a breath and her heart skipped several beats as she stared at the man who entered. Hallie’s hand squeezed hers painfully.

  Lavina gasped loudly as the man who might be Timothy walked up to the casket and silently stared down at Toby. The man sort of resembled Timothy, except for a bad cut on one side of his face surrounded by bruising, and an eye that was swollen shut. His head had a large white bandage covering part of his brown curly hair. Blood seeped through part of the bandage. He wore Englisch clothes: ragged blue jeans and a bright-green T-shirt.

  It seemed as if everyone filling the benches stilled. Breathing was suspended. No one moved.

  “Timmy,” Lavina breathed, but the man standing beside the casket showed no reaction.

  Was he deaf? Or did he have amnesia? She should feel concern for the man’s obvious injuries that apparently kept him away from his family…But she felt more concern for his mother and Toby’s mamm than for her missing groom. Which was an uncomfortable awareness that her feelings weren’t cold feet but a true lack of love…And how would she explain that to her parents and Lavina? Hopefully, this wasn’t Timothy, because she didn’t want to have to deal with those lingering questions yet.

  Toby’s mamm, Tabitha, stepped up to him with a watery smile. “Timmy. So glad you stopped by.” She reached to pull him into a hug, but he held up a hand and moved away.

  “Don’t. Touch. Me,” he growled. He sounded like Timothy did when he was sick. Kind of husky.

  Tabitha looked away, a tear running down her cheek. Her shoulders shook. “Why are you acting like this, Timmy?” Her voice broke.

  “Do I know you? And who’s Timmy?” He scowled, pushed past her, and limped toward the front door without so much as a glance at Grace.

  “If he’s not Timmy, who is he and how’d he know to come?” someone asked in sort of a confused y
et judgmental way. Grace didn’t turn to see who.

  Lavina trembled beside her, then lurched to her feet, still holding Grace’s hand, and stumbled toward the man.

  Grace let go of Hallie’s hand and allowed Lavina to tug her along. Grace’s legs quivered and threatened to fail her, but whether that was due to her painful fall down the stairs or because of fear, she didn’t know. Her heart pounded, and her lungs struggled to find enough air.

  “Timothy. Stop! Please.” Lavina released Grace’s hand and grasped the man’s arm. “Gracie and I have been so worried.”

  Well, she’d been more relieved, but jah, worried worked. She also felt confused, hurt, mad, numb, and guilty for having feelings for Zeke.

  The man stopped and jerked out of Lavina’s grip as he glared at them. “Who are you? What’s with you people?” No spark of recognition flashed in his eyes when they slid over Grace. None. There was just…a dark nothingness. Like her feelings for the man right now.

  She couldn’t marry a man who didn’t know who she was. More relief washed through her.

  “Timothy!” his daed, Alvin, roared. “Stop your foolishness!”

  “Whatever.” The man rolled his eyes skyward and turned his back on them and walked out.

  Lavina collapsed on the floor, wailing, and Alvin gathered her into his arms.

  “It’s an ill wind that blows no good,” someone said in a tone low and dark.

  Grace shuddered as she stood there, paralyzed with fear and doubt. Was he Timothy? Or not? Was he just pretending to not know anyone? But why would he do that? He had to know his mamm was worried if he was truly Timothy. Grace swallowed the fear that threatened to take hold of her, firmed her shoulders, and followed him outside.

  A chill wind had picked up. She wrapped her arms around herself in a hug. The strong breeze tossed her kapp strings and ruffled the short hairs at the back of her head. She went down the stairs. “Wait.”

  The wind blew the stench of cigarette smoke toward her as well as something else she couldn’t identify.

  The man straddled a rusty green bicycle, one foot already on a pedal, but glanced at her. He cocked his head in a way that was so familiar. It reminded her of the fun Timothy. The one she sometimes liked to spend time with.

  “What?”

  But there was no friendliness in his voice. Just barely controlled rage. Also familiar.

  He was Timothy. He had to be.

  “Look, I don’t know you people. I don’t want any more of your drama.”

  She sucked in air. Let it out in a whoosh. “Then why’d you come if you aren’t Timothy? Toby was his best friend.”

  The Timothy look-alike stared at her. “I just felt I should. But I don’t know you, and I don’t know who Timothy is.” He hesitated. “I’m James.”

  Timothy’s middle name was James.

  Grace narrowed her eyes, stared at him. He was familiar but not. She tried to imagine him without the bruises, without the eye swollen shut, without the bandage. He looked like a man who’d survived a tornado.

  “Look, nice to meet you, but my head is throbbing.” James’s brown eyes—make that eye, since the other was swollen shut—widened. He winced, his face pale. Then he turned and pushed off, mumbling. It sounded like he said something about “finding Paige” under his breath. Who is Paige?

  Grace watched him go.

  Was he or wasn’t he Timothy?

  When he turned onto the road headed toward town, Grace spun around and went back inside.

  Lavina was still huddled on the floor in Alvin’s arms. Tabitha stood at the window, arms crossed, back ramrod straight, and muttered under her breath. Toby’s female relatives whispered behind cupped hands. Hallie and Elsie stared at Grace, eyes wide, unspoken questions in their eyes. Was he Timmy? What had just happened? What did it mean for the future?

  All Grace had was a Who knows? that she couldn’t verbalize, so she shrugged a nonanswer to their questions and returned to her seat. She bowed her head but stared at her folded hands on her lap.

  She couldn’t help but compare the maybe-Timothy who just left to the Zeke who’d arrived yesterday about this time.

  Well, tried to compare.

  Because there was no comparison.

  Grace just couldn’t see Zeke being rude and inconsiderate to a roomful of strangers at a visitation.

  But then the Timothy she knew wouldn’t have acted that way, either. He was always kind and well behaved in gatherings. It was when they were alone that he seemed to barely hang on to his anger.

  But why would an Englisch man show up at an Amish viewing and be disrespectful to the bereaved? It made no sense.

  None whatsoever.

  * * *

  Zeke watched in horror as the man hit the ground with a thump, bounced a few times, then lay still. Too still.

  He quickly pulled out his cell phone, dialed 911, and told the operator what happened, then gave the phone to Cliff to recite the address.

  A woman wailed, screamed a name that Zeke didn’t catch, then fell on her knees beside the fallen man.

  Hammering ceased. Joking and gibes stopped. Some men climbed down to help; others stayed put. They’d be in the way anyway. Work stopped.

  Cliff handed Zeke the phone.

  Zeke slid it into his pocket and watched, feeling helpless. He knew CPR, but someone was already doing that. He wondered if he’d met the man—he couldn’t tell who he was from this far away.

  Zeke was about to climb down, but then in his peripheral he caught movement. He turned his head and…oh no. No, no, no. Patience approached with a tray full of water glasses.

  If she saw this, her reaction would be deafening. Maybe enough to wake the dead. Of course, that might be a good thing. But just in case, he’d better not risk it.

  Zeke glanced at the fallen man. “Got to go,” he said to Cliff, hooked his hammer on the tool belt someone had loaned him, and swung down.

  He caught up with Patience three or four feet into the barn, before she noticed the man. He took the tray from her, handed it to another man, then steered Patience out of the way. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

  She beamed at him. “You walk with me?”

  Zeke forced a smile, though it probably flopped. “Jah, if you would.”

  “I love to.”

  They left the barn, and he walked beside her to the road.

  He tried to remember which way to town and picked the opposite direction. He wasn’t sure if an ambulance would frighten the girl or not. Maybe if the lights were flashing and siren screaming.

  Slush came running, jumped a swollen drainage ditch, and fell in step beside them, tail wagging.

  Zeke would miss the dog. Patience. This family. He gulped. Gracie.

  It was weird, like he’d come home and found where he belonged.

  Which, of course, was plain foolishness. His home, his family, his friends, his job, his life were in Indiana.

  “I tell Gracie she not in way.” Patience bounced on her heels.

  Zeke looked at her. “What?”

  Patience huffed. “She not in family way. I tell her. She stay.”

  That clarified that she must’ve thought Gracie was literally in the way. Unfortunately, that didn’t change anything, but a smile formed and spread. “You’re sweet, Patience.”

  “I like you, Zeke.”

  “And I like you.”

  Patience pointed. “Look. There Gracie.”

  A horse clip-clopped down the pavement pulling a closed buggy toward them. Zeke didn’t know how Patience knew it was Gracie, or even where Gracie had gone. But two women were in the buggy. It neared and one of the women said, “Halt.”

  It was one of the women Zeke had tried to rescue from the tornado shelter. The one with the matchmaking mammi. He cringed a bit.

  Gracie climbed out, and the buggy rolled on. Her brow was furrowed, her mouth set. “Mamm said I had to be back before noon.” She stopped beside them.

  Zeke glanced toward the sky.
Not noon yet. Maybe half an hour. “Where’d you go?”

  The wind gusted again. Hopefully, no one else fell. Oh, he’d forgotten to pray for the man who had fallen in his haste to get Patience away from the scene. Zeke dipped his head. Lord, if it’s Your will, let that man who fell be okay. If he’s not, please comfort his family and friends. There’d been so much loss as a result of this storm.

  “Visitation for Toby. Where are you going?” Gracie shifted.

  “Zeke ask me on walk.” Patience beamed.

  Zeke gazed in Gracie’s eyes and attempted a meaningful look.

  Gracie hesitated, opened and shut her mouth, then nodded.

  “I tell him you not in way,” Patience said.

  Gracie’s face reddened. “Danki, Patience. No. I’m not in the family way. Not even a remote chance of it.”

  Zeke’s face heated. But oh, joy flooded him along with immense relief. This news was so good to hear. He wouldn’t need to worry about that issue now. He grinned, reached for Gracie’s hand, and squeezed. “I am so glad. Would you like to join us for a walk?”

  “Sure. We need to talk sometime.”

  Jah, they did. “Tonight.”

  Her return smile seemed strained. “I can’t wait.” She tightened her grip on his hand.

  He didn’t want to release it. He wanted to hold on tight. But with a sigh, he let go. “Jah. Looking forward to it.” Sort of. Unless she admitted she was using him. And then he’d keep his distance from her.

  But if she genuinely liked him…maybe they could clear some things up.

  And finish that unspoken conversation they’d started on the steps before she fell.

  Oh jah. Please.

  Chapter 17

  Grace fell into step beside Zeke, remembering the sparks of his hand holding hers. Well, technically, she was beside Slush, since he was between them. She limped along, but the pain was getting better with the movement of walking. Patience rambled on about her morning, working in the kitchen washing glasses, then filling the clean glasses with vinegar water and delivering them to the men working. “Mamm say it important job.”