The Amish Wedding Promise

by Laura V. Hilton

“It is a very important job.” Zeke glanced at her sister, then looked to Grace. “How was the visitation?”

  “I not like to go.” Patience shuddered.

  “Well, jah, I don’t like to go, either. But they are necessary to show a sense of community and joining together in mourning the dearly departed.” Zeke kicked at a broken shingle lying in the road, then bent to pick it up. “Although, in some cases, they are not so dear until they are departed.”

  Patience frowned. “I not understand.”

  Grace agreed with Zeke. When her great-aentie’s husband died, he stopped being the ogre that Aentie Linda complained about and turned into a saint who could do no wrong.

  “Anyway. Visitation. As per usual?” Zeke asked.

  How could she answer that? She considered her answer and glanced at Patience to see how closely she was listening. Then she stared at Zeke, willing him to understand what she wasn’t saying. “Um, jah. It started that way. But then some man walked in and, um, sort of upset the norm.”

  Zeke gave her a sharp look. “Timothy?”

  Grace nodded, then shrugged. “I think so, but I’m not sure.”

  “You marry Zeke. Not Timothy,” Patience insisted.

  Grace’s face warmed.

  Zeke grimaced, a bit of red tinge to his cheeks. “Let’s not talk about that right now, Patience.”

  Jah, because while Grace had a massive crush on Zeke, twenty-four hours was hardly enough time to fall in love. They barely knew each other. She didn’t even know his favorite flavor of ice cream. Or when his birthday was. Or a thousand other things that were shared during the courting season. But oh, she wanted to learn all she could about this man.

  “I no like Timothy. He mean to me.” Patience’s eyes widened, and she slapped a hand over her mouth.

  “How was Timothy mean to you?” Grace stopped and stared at her sister. Patience always made herself scarce when Timothy came over.

  Patience shook her head. “No.”

  “Come on, Patience. I need to know.”

  “Can no tell.”

  “We can’t fix it unless you tell us,” Zeke said.

  Moisture glistened in her eyes. “He make fun of me. Call me mean name, like ‘ugly retard.’”

  Zeke made a low growling sound deep in his throat.

  Slush tucked his tail.

  Grace’s eyes burned. “Oh, Patience. Why didn’t you say so?”

  Tears dropped off Patience’s chin. “He tell me bad thing happen if I do.” A loud sob escaped. “Now bad thing happen.” She sniffled, and tears flowed heavier.

  If Daed and their brothers knew what Patience had just said, Timothy—if he was Timothy—would wish the tornado had finished the job.

  Zeke made another low rumbly noise.

  Slush dropped to the muddy ground and rolled.

  Grace wrinkled her nose at the dog, then gathered Patience into her arms. “You should have told me. You are not ugly. And—”

  “And you are the sweetest, most lovable girl I know, and as long as I’m here, I’ll take care of you. I promise,” Zeke broke in. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Grace. “When you spoke to your daed, did you tell him any of this, Gracie?”

  “I didn’t know!” Okay, maybe she shouldn’t have raised her voice.

  Patience wailed louder, lurched into Zeke’s arms, and buried her runny nose against his chest.

  He rubbed her back. “There, there.”

  Slush stopped rolling and got up, leaning his muddy body against Patience’s formerly clean dress and giving Grace a look that clearly communicated, What did you do?

  An ambulance approached from the direction they’d been walking. It turned into the driveway.

  Thankfully, Patience didn’t notice. Grace fought the urge to run. Who got hurt? Daed? One of her brothers? Daadi? Why hadn’t she thought to ask?

  Though Zeke didn’t know many in the community. He wouldn’t have been able to tell her.

  A police car followed the ambulance.

  Oh no, no, no.

  Grace looked at Patience snuggled in Zeke’s arms, the dog leaning against her. Her sister was well taken care of.

  “I’ve got to go.” She looked at the action and tilted her head that way to signal. Now she understood why Zeke asked Patience to go on a walk. He took even better care of her sister than she did.

  Zeke nodded, kindness and understanding in his eyes. A glint promised they’d have that talk later. “Then go.”

  She turned and ran.

  * * *

  Zeke wanted to cry along with Patience. She was such a sweet girl, and to be verbally abused by Gracie’s missing groom…He sighed. It was just unfathomable that anyone would treat another person that way. Especially one who couldn’t defend herself.

  But if what Cliff said about Timothy was true, then Gracie’s postponed wedding had been a gift of Gott. Nothing less. Especially if she found the courage to tell him no, if he was still alive. Zeke tried to dissect his memory of her expression for hurt or grief, but all he remembered was irritation.

  It was nothing short of amazing that Cliff and Gracie had prayed the same thing and that Gott had answered. Maybe Gott also answered Cliff’s other prayer to bring a new man for Gracie.

  Zeke’s heart pounded as he tried to soothe Patience and ran a hand over Slush’s muddy fur.

  The same Gott who forgave him his past mistakes. If Gott truly answered prayers, then maybe Zeke should add his own prayer that the full truth about Timothy would come out and Gracie would be set free. Even if she wasn’t for Zeke, she deserved better than Timothy.

  But Cliff’s prayers made it baffling why he hadn’t spoken to Gracie’s daed—his son—about what he’d observed. It didn’t make sense that Seth wouldn’t care enough to approach his daughter about it if he knew, because he seemed like a loving, caring father.

  Or maybe Cliff didn’t want to talk to Seth because Gracie’s mamm was friends with Timothy’s mamm and, according to Gracie, very much in favor of the marriage. But if they were truly friends, wouldn’t they be honest with each other about why Timothy was courting Gracie?

  Oh, this was getting beyond confusing, not to mention Zeke was fairly certain this kind of restoration wasn’t in his job description. People were ever so much more complicated than buildings.

  Then again, people were more important than anything made out of wood or stone. Relationships mattered. That was why Zeke wanted to help with special-needs individuals as well as troubled boys at the ranch.

  Zeke recalled his own reckless and youngie days where he might have gotten involved in the things Cliff said Timothy was doing. If his boss hadn’t made him spend time with special-needs or troubled boys, he might have judged harshly what he didn’t understand. Perhaps Gott’s grace kept him from truly becoming what Daed once accused him of being. “Hmm,” he murmured.

  “What?” Patience sniffled.

  “Just thinking.” He shifted and the dampening material of his shirt touched his skin. He would have a wet patch, compliments of Patience’s tears, but it was a badge he’d wear with honor.

  “Why he mean, Zeke? Why he not nice like you?” Patience sniffed.

  “I don’t know, Patience. I don’t. All I know is that suffering is part of life. I’ve never met a strong person who hasn’t suffered. And you’re a strong person.” He’d learned to stand on his own feet in construction in part because of Daed’s harsh and unfair judgment.

  “I pray Jesus to calm the storm. Why He not listen?”

  Oh, she asked tough questions. “I think maybe He is working behind the scenes. That He still has more parts of the storm to calm.” Like Timothy. Maybe like Zeke’s relationship with Daed. Though how that’d be soothed with Zeke miles and miles away was beyond him. “All I know is the fiercest storm, the highest wall, the harshest word have no power against our Gott. He will prevail.” An inner peace guarded his heart like the ultimate storm shelter.

  “He just speak and storm obey.” Patience attempted to
snap her fingers.

  “Weather storms obey Him. But now He’s dealing with people. He could make us obey Him, but He’s given us free will so we have to want to listen. It’s like if your daed tells us to do something, we have to choose to obey.”

  How many times had Zeke disobeyed Daed? Maybe that had something to do with his miserable opinion of Zeke. He probably owed Daed a huge apology.

  He’d call home tonight and apologize to Daed.

  Patience sniffled again and wiped her nose on her dress. “I hungry.”

  Zeke glanced at the sky again. It was near noon, but neither the ambulance nor the police car had left yet. Would she be upset to see them working on someone?

  But of course, Patience didn’t know about the man falling. She turned and trotted toward home.

  Slush whined and looked at Zeke.

  Zeke fought his own whimper. If Patience witnessed anything, she might not handle it well. But on the other hand, he couldn’t tell her no, that she couldn’t go home. He shrugged at the dog and followed behind Patience closely.

  The ambulance drove up to the end of the driveway.

  Quietly. No lights.

  Maybe because of all the horses or maybe because there was no need for the drivers to rush to the hospital.

  Zeke’s eyes stung. So much loss.

  Seth met him when he rounded the end of the haus. Patience darted ahead of him inside.

  “It’s Jon.”

  Jon. Brother number twelve. The one Zeke had the beginnings of a friendship with. His vision blurred.

  “A driver is on the way to take my wife and me to the hospital.”

  A measure of hope filled him. “He’s still alive, then.”

  In the distance, sirens started to wail.

  “He was when they loaded him in the ambulance. Gracie is a mess.” Seth inhaled deeply. “I trust you. But just in case, her grossdaadi and eleven brothers are still here. For now.”

  Which translated into I don’t trust you. Zeke nodded. “Got it.”

  “By the way, Gracie told me you told her to talk to me. I appreciate it. I had no idea she felt that way.” Seth had a grim expression.

  “You need to talk to Cliff and to Patience. There’s more you don’t know.”

  Seth grimaced. “I was afraid of that.” A heavy sigh. “Gracie ran to her room. I trust you,” he repeated.

  And with that bit of not-so-helpful information mixed with the implied warning, Seth walked away.

  Zeke stayed put. If only life came with instruction manuals for fathers. Or maybe one for young men attempting to understand fathers.

  What was he supposed to do?

  * * *

  Grace bypassed her room and ran into Jon’s room, locked the door, and threw herself on his twin bed. He was still alive but unconscious, and his fiancée, Aubrey, was sticking to his side, even riding in the ambulance with him to the hospital.

  Not fair, not fair, not fair. It was her brother, for pity’s sake. Her favorite brother. The one only two years older than her, the one who taught her to drive a buggy, the one who taught her how to swim, the one who went looking for her and Patience when they got lost in a record-breaking Illinois blizzard and couldn’t find their way home from school.

  Grace wanted to argue, but it seemed fiancées trumped sisters and even parents. Which she kind of understood. If it were Zeke, she’d want to be with him.

  Her breath lodged in her throat. Zeke. Not Timothy.

  And Timothy was her fiancé.

  Oh, that said so much.

  One day, slightly more than twenty-four hours, and she’d fallen in love with a man who wasn’t her groom.

  A man who’d never be her groom.

  A man who’d leave her and return to his life in Indiana.

  A man who her favorite brother actually liked…unlike Timothy.

  She remembered their antics with the bird in her room just yesterday and then “Sleeping Beauty” and Patience’s kiss.

  Tears flowed as she clutched Jon’s pillow to her heart.

  Oh, Jon…

  Chapter 18

  The joking and gibes had stopped. Except for the hammer-and-nails melody of a barn under assembly, conversation had ceased, replaced by a heavy blanket of silence.

  Zeke strode in, hoping to regain his perch, just for the nearness of a friend. Men had their gazes cast down, their eyes red rimmed, mouths set. Maybe some prayed. Maybe not.

  Zeke added a whispered prayer of his own.

  Vernon had taken Zeke’s place on the beam next to Cliff. Figured. Now Zeke had to find someplace else where he probably wouldn’t have a friend to talk to. Not that they’d talk. Not with the oppressive absence of sound. Still, having a friend nearby would’ve been comforting.

  Jon Lantz. It was nothing short of a miracle he hadn’t died on impact considering the great distance he’d fallen. If allowed, Zeke would visit him in the hospital. He liked Gracie’s brother number twelve.

  Cliff caught Zeke’s attention and nodded toward the haus. Zeke glanced that way. Women, including Patience, carried out food for the slightly delayed noon meal. With the church benches gone and other districts’ benches in use for funerals, the men would be eating dinner on the grounds, literally. Unless they sat in the back of wagons.

  But Zeke’s appetite was gone.

  He shook his head and murmured, “Not hungry.” Hopefully, Cliff could read lips.

  Cliff sighed so heavily his whole body sagged. “Gracie.”

  Right. Except Seth didn’t trust Zeke.

  “Go to her.”

  Cliff was kidding. He had to be.

  Zeke might be stupid compared to straight-A Vernon, but he didn’t have a death wish.

  Exaggerated motions from above caught Zeke’s attention.

  Cliff was again pointing toward the haus as if Zeke were daft.

  And maybe he was. Because this time, he obeyed.

  But if the biggest gossip in this district caught him in Gracie’s bedroom, then it wouldn’t be his fault.

  He trudged toward the haus, past the ladies setting out the noon meal—which included platters full of wedding sandwiches—through the kitchen, and into the front room where the stairs were located. Up the stairs where he and Gracie almost kissed. Her bedroom was right across from the bathroom. The door was open, but the room was empty. Gracie wasn’t there.

  Disappointment warred with relief. He wanted to be her hero, but at the same time, he didn’t deal well with tears.

  But then her muffled sobs reached him. He wouldn’t know what to say, but maybe he could hold her. Pray for her. As he had for Patience on the road. He followed the sounds to Jon’s room. The door was shut and locked.

  He pulled in a deep breath and knocked. “Gracie?”

  Silence.

  Except a sniffle.

  “It’s Zeke.”

  A squeak or something came from the other side of the door, followed by creaks.

  “Your, uh, I mean, both your daed and Daadi Cliff sent me to find you. Sort of,” he explained to the closed door.

  The door opened with another creak—the hinges needed oiling or adjusting—and then she stood there, head dipped, tears dripping off her chin.

  She swiped at the tears and looked up, her gaze still watery, mouth quivering. “I feel like such a big baby. But really, Jon…”

  She hiccupped, made sort of a gasping sound, then wonder of wonders, she was in his arms.

  Or at least he thought she was.

  But before he had a chance to decide for sure, she was gone, retreating to one of the twin beds in the room.

  His body burned from the brief touch.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bump into you. I was checking to see if anyone witnessed you coming in. Since the coast is clear, you can shut the door.”

  “I’d rather keep it open to protect our reputations.” And to keep from misbehaving, because wow, he liked her. He wanted to be close, closer than he had any right to be.

  “My repu
tation is pretty much in shambles, thanks to my intolerance of coffee.”

  He chuckled but then thought better of it. Though it was absurd to get a bad reputation over a beverage. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh.”

  “I understand. Mamm was going to try to set the gossips straight, but since the rumor reached the barn, it might have to be misproven by the test of time.”

  Oh! Now her comment made sense. But Zeke’s brow furrowed. “Misproven? Do you mean disproven?”

  “I meant misproven. As in it’s a misunderstanding to be proven false.”

  He couldn’t keep from laughing outright.

  “I am sorry, though, for what I did on the steps. Trying to kiss you, I mean. I thought maybe I was dreaming, and since kissing you will never happen in real life, then…” Her face warmed. “I never would’ve tried if I thought it might be real.”

  His heart warmed. She’d wanted to kiss him, too…but only felt that brave in her dreams.

  “Patience has never appeared in my dreams, though. Not like that. And, well, I didn’t want you to think I was desperate.” A nervous giggle escaped. “I might be desperate, but I really wanted to thank you for listening to me.” She picked up a pillow and clutched it to her chest.

  Relief filled him. She wasn’t trying to trap him, after all. She wasn’t using him. He wasn’t a fool for falling for her.

  “You can sit down, if you want, but if you stay, you might be subjected to more dramatics.” Her voice broke.

  Zeke nodded. “That’s why I’m here. Your daed and grossdaadi both sent me. I didn’t realize it was Jon until after I got back, or else I would’ve warned you.” He sat on the other twin bed on the opposite side of the room. In case the gossips peeked in. Because if he had his choice, he’d sit beside her, arms around her, holding her near while she cried on his shoulders.

  He plucked at the wet spot Patience had left.

  If he and Gracie went for a walk, someplace out of sight of casual observers, he might be able to hold her, too.

  He shouldn’t think like that, especially since she was weeping into the pillow she’d pressed to her face.

  He sighed, feeling helpless. After a moment, he bowed his head. Lord…please comfort her…