Dear David,
I don’t really know how to tell you this.
I am heartbroken. I want you to know that I’ll always love you and consider you one of the greatest blessings in my life.
Apparently, my father did not approve of you (which you already knew) and has found another husband for me. By the time you read this, I will be married to him in word and deed.
This was not my choice. I protested, but my father insisted. You know I had to be a dutiful Amish daughter and obey him, especially since he’s the bishop.
If it makes you feel any better, Micah is a nice man. He is a widower with several children who need a mother. I admit that being a mother does appeal to me, since we don’t have any children of our own, although I will miss you sorely.
You have been a gut husband to me. My father says Micah and I are better suited to each other than you and me. I’m not sure, but it really doesn’t matter now.
I hope you can move on with your life and find another woman to marry.
No longer your wife,
Michaela
“What?” He shook his head. “No! This can’t be true.”
A sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach like one of the rocks he and Jonathan used to throw into the lake.
“Ach, Gott!” Tears burned David’s eyes. How could Bishop Saul do this? He’d approved of their courtship and marriage in the first place and, as far as David knew, there was nothing he’d done to make Saul hate him.
God, help me not to be angry. I’m not sure what to do. Should I just allow the bishop to steal my fraa away? It doesn’t seem right. She is my wife! How can he just give her to another man?
David knew what he would do. He tucked the letter into his pocket and headed for the barn. He saddled up Warrior and jumped into the seat. In a matter of minutes, he’d be face to face with Saul. What he’d say to him was anybody’s guess, but David was certain it wasn’t going to be pleasant.
TWENTY
David urged Warrior on, most likely at speeds he’d never demanded of the creature. But he knew the retired racehorse was more than capable. He might not win any more races, but he was still the fastest creature David owned.
Dust arose as he charged up Bishop Saul’s driveway. He slid off the horse before he even came to a complete stop and sprinted toward the back door. Ach, so many of his gut memories were wrapped up in this house. How had things changed so much?
He closed his eyes as his heart pounded wildly in his chest. He needed to get a hold of his emotions lest he knock Bishop Saul into next Tuesday. That wouldn’t be gut, especially not for an Amish minister. Although, that was what he felt like doing.
To his surprise, Jonathan answered the door. Jon’s grin filled his entire face until he noted David’s expression. “Dave? Is something wrong?”
“What are you doing here?”
Jon frowned. “My father asked me to check up on things while he is gone.”
“You knew?” David grimaced.
A puzzled look flashed across his friend’s face. “Knew what?”
“That your father stole my wife and married her off to someone else.”
“What? What in the world are you talking about?”
David was too upset to speak. He reached into his pocket and grasped the letter. He thrust it at his friend.
Jon eyed him warily. He scratched his beard, then opened the letter. His eyes roamed silently over the treachery it contained. “Ach, Dave. I’m so sorry.”
“So you didn’t know?”
“I had no idea. Surely I would have stopped him, had I known.”
“Which is why you didn’t.” David scowled. “He didn’t tell you on purpose.”
“I can’t understand why or how my father can do this. This is not okay. Is he insane?” Apparently, Jon shared his thoughts.
“What should I do?” David’s hand slid through his windblown hair. He only now realized he’d forgotten to don his hat before riding over. Probably wouldn’t have stayed on anyhow.
“If it was my wife, I’d go fetch her.”
“But this says she is already married to someone else,” David argued.
“Perhaps it is wrong. Perhaps Der Herr has stalled the wedding for you. Besides, how can she marry if she is not yet divorced from you?”
“I don’t think your father has any regard for the laws of the Englisch.”
“You are right.” Jonathan frowned. “But he should regard Der Herr’s laws.”
“But I will go to Colorado anyway. I need to see my fraa to believe this is true.”
Jonathan sighed. “And if it is?”
Cursed tears once again welled in David’s eyes and he shoved them away as quickly. “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Jon disappeared momentarily and returned, handing David a slip of paper. “You’ll need the address.”
David folded it in two and slid it into his pocket. He nodded his thanks, not trusting his voice.
Jonathan reached over and grasped David’s shoulder, pulling his friend into a hearty embrace. “I will be praying for you, friend.”
“Denki. I’ll need it. I just hope I don’t do something dumm.”
“Dave, I’ve never known you to do anything dumm. You are one of the wisest men I know.”
“I do not deserve your praise.”
“Jah, you do. My father has shown you nothing but ill will, yet you have been faithful to him and a wonderful gut friend to me.”
“As you have been to me.”
“You will always have my friendship. Always.” Jonathan nodded. “No matter how my vatter feels.”
“Denki, Jon.”
TWENTY-ONE
David had many hours to contemplate the words he’d say to Bishop Saul when he arrived in Colorado. But if Michaela was indeed already married to another man now, what good would any of them do? He didn’t understand how the bishop could use his authority to do something so devious, so wrong.
Michaela was his wife. No, they didn’t always see eye-to-eye on everything, but what married couple did? What God hath joined together, let not man put asunder. Hadn’t Der Herr spoken those words? Why, then, would Saul tear David and Michaela’s marriage apart?
Had Saul taken her all the way to Colorado because he thought that David would not go after her? If so, he was sorely mistaken. Of course he’d come for his wife! He didn’t know any married man who wouldn’t.
~
David’s driver pulled up to the address he had given him. The drive had been longer than he’d expected, but the scenery had been beautiful. He looked out the window at the majestic mountain range. Ach, would Michaela even want to leave this place?
“Do you mind waiting a bit?” He’d asked his driver to wait just in case…
Just in case what?
He really had no idea what to expect. He just wanted his wife to come home with him. If all went well—the way he’d prayed—they’d all three be back on the road in just a little while. And, instead of sharing a motel room with his driver tonight, he’d share one with his wife.
His wife. Not that Micah guy’s.
But what if it didn’t go as he’d hoped, as he’d prayed?
Ach, he wouldn’t think of that.
Not when he was about to face one of the most disturbing, one of the most frustrating, one of the most heartrending situations in his life.
He sucked in a deep breath and held it as long as he could stand it. Gott, I need Your help.
Finally, he summoned the courage to close the vehicle’s door and walk to the house.
He tapped his fingers on his thigh as he waited for someone to answer his knock. It seemed like he stood out there for an eternity. In reality, it had probably been less than a minute.
The door opened.
“Ach, David!” Michaela’s eyes flew wide and she glanced behind her. A worried look flashed across her face, but it was quickly replaced with what was supposed to be a smile.
“Momma!” One of little ones jabbered.
David looked past her and stood erect as an Amish man approached behind her.
“Who is it, Michelle?” The man asked.
Michelle?
David frowned. This man was most likely ten years older than Michaela. Was this Micah?
“May I help you?” The man offered a tentative smile.
Michaela disappeared behind him into the house. Where was she going?
“Jah, I’d like to speak with Michaela. My fraa.” David’s arms fastened hard across his chest.
“Your…wife?” He frowned and shook his head. “There is no Michaela here.”
“Your Michelle is my Michaela.”
“What is this all about? Michelle is mei fraa. Her father and I have exchanged letters for over a year now. If she was married, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”
What? Neither Saul nor Michaela had said anything? “Not was married. Is. I have come to take mei fraa back home.”
The man’s mouth hung open. “I…I’m sorry, but Michelle and I, well we… We are husband and wife now. Her father said she was unmarried. I can’t let her go.” He shook his head and his face almost turned ashen. “My kinner have a new mudder now. And after we lost Tabitha, well, I couldn’t do that to them again. They’d be devastated to lose another mamm. Surely, you can understand.” The man’s eyes pled with David.
David squeezed his eyes shut. So…what? He was just supposed to go home without his fraa? Ach, Michaela…
“Where is Saul, her father?”
“As far as I know, he’s gone back to Pennsylvania.” He shrugged.
“Figures.” David sighed, then glanced back to make sure his driver was still there. “I’d like to talk to Michaela.”
The man frowned. “I’m not sure if that’s a gut idea.”
“Please.”
He nodded in resignation, then turned back. “Michelle, come. This man wants to talk with you.”
Michaela appeared at the door, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. Ach, how he wished he could take her in his arms.
“I’d like a few words with her in private, if you don’t mind.” David wished the man would go back into the house. Or just disappear altogether, along with this awkward situation.
He opened his mouth to protest, then nodded.
David silently prayed for wisdom. Because, if he acted on instinct alone, he’d hoist Michaela over his shoulder and haul her back to Lancaster with him in a split second and never look back. But she was not a pawn. Although that was how her father had treated her.
But he wouldn’t do that. He loved her. And he wanted what was best for her. He wanted to hear her side of the story.
She stepped outside. “Let’s walk?”
“Jah.” David swallowed.
They remained silent until they were far enough away from the front door of the house for a little privacy.
“Ach, isn’t it beautiful here?” David caught the wonder in her voice.
“Jah, it is. But those mountains are nothin’ compared to mei fraa.”
She gasped. “David…”
They stopped at the pasture fence. “Look at me, Michaela.” He waited until she did. “What do you want? Are you happy here?”
Tears pricked her eyes. “Ach, David. I do love you, but…”
“But, what?”
“Micah and the kinner, they need me.” She brushed away a tear. “I feel like the little ones are my bopplin now.”
He wanted to protest. He wanted to say that he needed her just as much. He wanted to say that he had just as much right to her as anyone else, if not more.
But this wasn’t just about him. Nor was it about him and Michaela anymore. It wasn’t about his rights. It was about several children—he thought he’d seen at least four or five—who desperately needed a stable home, who desperately needed a mother.
Did he want to be known as the callous man who took someone’s mother away from them? Or did he want to be known as the man who had given up his own selfish desires for the benefit of someone else?
He didn’t even have to ask himself what Jesus would do. He knew.
Ach, this was so so hard! He wasn’t ready to give Michaela up.
“Michaela, I love you more than just about anything. But if you want to stay here, I won’t stop you.”
“I don’t know what I want. But if I go back home, my father…”
He understood. Saul was not only her father, but the bishop as well. Even if David did bring her home, who was to say Saul wouldn’t haul her back to Colorado on the first train west?
“Why did you not tell this man you were married?” David frowned. It hurt to even say those words. It felt like a denial on his wife’s part. Almost as if she’d been party to the entire plot.
“My father forbade me to ever speak of it—or you—again. He wants me to forget you.”
And there it was again. Saul’s rejection.
“I do not understand why your vatter hates me so.” David lamented. “And how does he just expect you to forget someone you are married to?”
“I don’t know. I could never forget you,” she whispered.
He reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. Most likely for the last time. Physical pain clamped down on his heart.
“Ach, Michaela…” He couldn’t help the tears that pooled in his eyes. He didn’t even bother to brush them away. “I guess this is goodbye, then.”
He pulled her to him for one last fierce embrace. Her body trembled against his.
“I’m so sorry, David.”
He moved back and wiped her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. Then he leaned near and grazed her cheek with his lips.
One. Last. Time.
He suddenly pulled away and allowed his eyes to feast on his wife—make that former wife—for another second. He wanted to memorize, nee memorialize, every detail. Because if he admitted it to himself, this was very much like a funeral.
Then he turned to go.
He marched to the awaiting vehicle, opened the door, and slid inside.
“Let’s go home now.” He nodded to the driver.
He shouldn’t look back. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
Life would never be the same again.
TWENTY-TWO
David hadn’t known what to expect to feel, but it wasn’t this. This twisting aching drowning feeling all at the same time. Ach, it hurt to breathe.
This wasn’t just some stranger Saul had taken from him, it was his wife! His life mate. His helpmeet. His friend and confidant.
This was Michaela, whom he’d gone to school with. Whom he’d courted. Whom he’d fallen in love with.
As the reality of his situation came crashing down on him, an avalanche of tears came as well. How could he just move on without her? How could he return home emptyhanded?
What was that saying? Don’t know what you got till it’s gone? It should be something like you don’t know what you got until it’s ripped from your hands, from your heart, from your life.
Because he was certain that grieving the death of a marriage, while his wife was still alive and well, had to be worse than being a widower indeed.
Ach, Gott…
~
David hadn’t bothered confronting Bishop Saul when he arrived back home, although he sorely wanted to. But he realized that his efforts would be fruitless. And most likely met with resistance. He didn’t need to give the bishop any more reasons to hate him. He had enough turmoil in his life as it was.
He’d made up his mind. As long as it lay within his own power, he would remain single. Or a widower. Or a bachelor. Or whatever you called someone in his type of situation. Because loving and losing a woman hurt way too much.
He would not go through that again. He. Would. Not.
Si
nce word had gotten out, he figured the g’may must’ve felt sorry for him. Several available young women in the community had dropped off meals more than one night each week. He’d also had several invitations to supper by well-meaning parents, which he’d declined.
The last thing he desired was a romantic relationship right now. Nee, he needed to focus on Der Herr’s work and how he could better serve the g’may.
He’d keep himself busy. Because, if he was about his Father’s business, he wouldn’t think about not having a beautiful woman to come home to every night.
Jah, that was a gut plan.
~
Beth hadn’t missed the murmuring that had gone on once Minister David’s wife Michaela had been given to another man by her bishop father. Word was that he was an eligible bachelor back on the market. Not that she was interested. She already had Uri, her one and only love.
She did admit, however, that David would be a fine catch for someone. With his good looks, sturdy frame, and kind eyes, who wouldn’t find him attractive? On top of all that, he was a Godly man. He possessed every positive trait a woman could possibly want.
Jah, Minister David would be a fine catch for someone indeed.
TWENTY-THREE
Two years later…
“Uriah, how are those harnesses coming along?” David walked into the repair shop on his property. Hiring Uriah Shetler had been a blessing from Der Herr. David had seen many leather craftsmen. Uriah was surely one of the finest.
“Almost done, Preacher.” He handed one of the finished harnesses to David.
“Ach, this is wunderbaar. You do fine work. I think you need a raise.”
“Ach, really? Mei fraa will be happy to hear that.” Uriah grinned.
“I’ve never seen anyone take such pride in their work.”
“Ach, pride is a sin, ain’t so?”
“I just mean that you are a fine craftsman. I wasn’t calling out any sin. It is not a sin to work hard and do the best you can. It brings glory to Der Herr.”
An Amish Betrayal Page 7