An Amish Wedding Feast on Ice Mountain

by Kelly Long

  Beth picked up the lantern and hurried out of the barn. The bishop and his wife lived quite near the mountain store, and she knew she could reach him faster on foot than by hitching up Teddy. Most likely, the bishop was at Ben Kauffman’s store anyway, for an early morning round of checkers.

  All of this went through Beth’s mind in an instant as she walked the dirt path to the big white store. She intended to check inside before going on to Martha’s haus and she climbed the stairs quickly. She went inside and was met by the familiar sights and delicious aromas that accompanied each trip to the well-lit space. She saw the gathering of Amish men in the back aisle and quickly made her way over the hardwood floor, her normal shyness lost in the urgency she felt for Cleo.

  She explained the situation, and Bishop Umble promised to be there within the half hour, so she walked back to the barn and paced outside. When she saw the pinkish purple streaks of dawn cross the sky, she wondered vaguely what Ransom was doing at that hour. Then Bishop Umble came whistling down the lane and she walked over with the light to greet him.

  “Beth, so it’s Cleo, is it?” he asked, already in his shirtsleeves.

  “Jah, but I think we caught it early.”

  The auld man did a quick examination, then drew some fluid from the teat. “I heard Ransom King gave you a hand with the delivery. The lambs look well hydrated, in any case.”

  “Um . . . jah, Ransom helped.”

  She didn’t miss the assessing glance the bishop shot at her and felt herself flush.

  “I see.... Gut man, Ransom.”

  “Yes, he is,” she replied, feeling out of her depth.

  “Well, I’ll take this fluid back to the house and have a look. We’ll decide which antibiotic to use then. I’ll be back out in a few hours.”

  “Danki, Bishop Umble,” she murmured.

  “Good morning, Beth.”

  She held the lantern so he could take his leave, then walked back into the haus. It was time to start breakfast and get her pies in order for the stand.

  * * *

  Ransom woke late, which was completely unlike himself, but he was glad he’d only dreamed fitfully and not progressed to the sheer panic that often kept him awake all night. He pulled on a dark blue shirt and slipped up his suspenders. He drew a yellow-lined sheet of paper from his dresser drawer and read over the ad he’d sketched out to advertise that the family woodworking shop would be expanding to include fine furniture. He’d already met with his fater and the bishop to gain their permission for the plan, and he was especially excited about making it known that the King family was taking a step forward into developing a broader business range.

  He went out to where Esther was cooking blueberry pancakes. “How many do you want?” she asked pointedly.

  He bussed her quickly on the cheek before she could swat him away, then laughed as he poured his coffee.

  “What’s got you in such a good mood?” Esther asked.

  “Going into Coudersport . . . to set out the advertisement that the King family is expanding,”

  “Well—” Esther grinned mischievously. “Mind you don’t stop and buy any more pies from Beth Mast. Mamm and I have made enough to last for weeks.”

  “Beth can bake,” he said with a raised brow.

  “Uh-huh.”

  He smiled and swallowed down his coffee, then headed out to the barn to get Benny. His brother Abel was hanging around the barn door, obviously wanting to talk to him.

  “Abel, what’s going on?”

  “Well . . . uh . . . can we geh for a walk a ways? I don’t want Daed to hear.”

  “Sure.”

  Ransom walked quietly beside his bruder and couldn’t help the feeling of fear that seemed to bite at the back of his neck.

  “What is it, Abel?” he asked quietly as they neared the property’s pond.

  “You know the other nacht, when you gave me that money for—”

  “Jah.”

  “Well, how do you know when it’s the right time to—do that?” Abel finished lamely.

  Ransom swallowed hard. “You—might wait until you’re married.”

  Abel shot him a bleak look and Ransom blew out a tight breath. “All right . . . I can’t tell you when, but you better be darn sure before you make—a mistake.”

  “Well, when did you—uh—first—you know?”

  Ransom shook his head, lost in a nightmare in the broad light of day. “Look, Abel—” He heard himself form the words, but it didn’t sound like his voice. I’m a coward, he thought. “Just pray about it.”

  “Pray about it? Really?”

  At least the kid doesn’t sound defensive . . . “Yeah . . . pray hard.”

  Abel shrugged. “Okay.”

  Ransom turned on the far side of the pond and they headed back in silence, even as Ransom felt a roaring in his ears.

  He felt the jolt of impact and heard Barbara screaming. He tried to reach her, but his hands found hard metal instead, slick with some wet substance....

  He blinked in the sunlight and realized that Abel was still speaking to him. Unable to find his voice, he left his younger bruder to walk away alone.

  * * *

  Beth had seen the bishop off for the second time that morning and was comforted by the fact that Cleo was on a strong antibiotic. Beth paused now as she saw her blurred reflection in the pail of water she had carried outside to water the other sheep before she went to the pie stand. She stood alone, trapped by the sudden knowledge that she hated her reflection . Round-faced sinner, never loved, sad and so very broken . . . I don’t deserve forgiveness or love, and I don’t believe that Gott loves me personally. . . .

  The dangerous train of her thoughts was broken by Rose’s critical voice.

  “Why are you just standing there? I don’t know what gets into your head sometimes.”

  Beth drew a deep breath and turned to her stepsister. “Rose?”

  “What?”

  “Do you . . . love me?”

  The air hummed with the question as Rose slowly scowled. “Now I know you’re narrisch, Beth. What kind of question is that?”

  Beth stood trembling as she watched Rose turn and go. I knew what she’d say . . . I knew it would hurt my heart, but I wanted to punish myself for being alive.... I wanted to suffer....

  She bent her shoulders forward and automatically finished the watering. Then she went inside the haus to wash her hands and pack up the pies.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ransom sat bleakly staring out of the buggy as Benny ambled along. The conversation with Abel had shaken him in more ways than one. If only someone had talked that way to me . . .

  He was so absorbed in his difficult thoughts that he almost didn’t realize how far he’d traveled until he came upon Beth setting out the pies for the morning’s sale. Her shy smile as he was about to pass was enough to make him hesitate, and his eyes focused on the light green dress she was wearing. There was something restful about her, even though her shyness sometimes made conversing with her difficult.

  “Gut morning,” he said, a smile coming to his lips.

  “Hello,” she murmured.

  “Listen,” he said, before he realized the words were even out of his mouth. “I’m in the mood to hike down the mountain and have a breath of air from the Ice Mine.”

  “Jah?” she said slowly, her brow wrinkling in question.

  “Well, how about we leave the pies here on the honor system.”

  “You mean, let people pay themselves and take their own change?”

  Ransom nodded. “You’ll probably sell just the same and I’ll have you back up the mountain before Viola even knows you’re gone.”

  He waited a few moments, his heart thrumming in his ears as he realized how hasty his idea sounded, but Beth didn’t answer.

  Finally, though, he heard a single soft word. “Why?” she asked.

  “Why what?” He took a step nearer to her.

  “Why do you want to spend time with me?”


  “Beth, I don’t know—I told you—I like you, we could be—friends.” The word sounded like what it was—thin. He hadn’t planned on saying it and, in truth, wished he might take it back, because he suddenly knew in his soul that he loved her. But Beth’s gentle features seemed to take on a beautiful hue as she tested the word on her tongue. “Friends?”

  He nodded, then looked at the ground. “I should warn you maybe—I’m not what you’d call good friend material.”

  She smiled rather sadly then. “Perhaps the same could be said of me.”

  * * *

  As they walked, Beth glanced at his handsome profile and firm lips and tried to recall his mouth touching hers. It seemed a kindled flame of a memory, and she kept stealing brief looks at him.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Ach, nothing—I was just remembering . . . I mean—” She felt her words become glue in her mouth and paused in defeat.

  But he half-smiled and his dark eyes seemed to drink her in as he turned to look her way. “Remembering that kiss?” he asked.

  “Ach, no—I mean, how did you know?”

  She saw him look back to the mountain trail. “I remember it too. It’s kind of hard to forget. You have a mouth that was made for kissing, Beth Mast—strictly speaking as an observant friend, of course.”

  “Of course,” she returned. But then, all the insecurities and self-loathing she’d felt that morning came flooding into her mind.

  If he only knew the real me—or what’s left of me—he’d never want to be my friend. He’d probably think I’m narrisch or even worse. And I am worse, because I choose to be ... I might have the power to be a gut friend, one who could help and build and dream, but I know I don’t deserve any of it. And I . . .

  She nearly jumped when Ransom caught her hand.

  “Watch out for those exposed roots,” he cautioned.

  Beth looked at the twined root structure of a tall pine, even as she thrilled to the steady strength of Ransom’s fingers fitting easily through her own. Was this friendship then? she wondered.

  As they walked, Beth felt the heat of the summer’s day give way to a subtle coolness around her feet, and she glanced at the bright green ferns that began to pepper their way on the mountain descent.

  “How long has it been since you’ve been to the mine?”

  Beth glanced up at him shyly. “Too long,” she admitted. “I haven’t been off the mountain in a gut long while.”

  He nodded. “I haven’t been to the mine in years, though I heard that an Englischer is going to open it up for tours once more.”

  The Ice Mine that sat at the base of Ice Mountain had been discovered accidentally when a miner who’d been seeking silver found beautiful summer ice instead. The curious thing about the mine was that it was filled with ice during the summer but completely bare and temperate in the winter. The Amish saw it as an example of Gott’s Provision, while the Englisch over the past hundred years had toured the mine in fascination, and while ownership passed from one to another.

  “Do you remember the story of the ferns hereabouts?” Beth asked, seeking something to say.

  “That they won’t survive anywhere else, nor will they grow and take root anyplace but Ice Mountain?” He swung her hand a bit. “Fanciful, isn’t it?”

  “Jah, my fater used to tell me that the ferns grew in Gott’s Footprints when He trod up Ice Mountain for the first time.” She wanted to say more, but this brief revelation about her fater brought her pain and she swallowed her words.

  “You don’t like to talk about him much, do you?”

  Beth shook her head, hoping Ransom would let the topic of her earthly fater geh by. She was surprised when he stopped on the trail and swung her around so the sunlight that filtered through the tall trees made her blink.

  “What is it?” she asked softly, lifting her head to look up into his dark eyes.

  “We’re alike, you and me, little hare.”

  She shook her head. “How can you say that when you’re so beautiful and I’m . . . well, you know . . .”

  “What do I know?”

  She frowned, not quite able to say the words that hovered anxiously on her lips.

  He slid his big hands up the length of her arms, and she shivered involuntarily. His fingers began to caress the plumpness of her shoulders and she felt as though a wash of warm butter was running down her spine. Her impulse was to pull away, but instead, she made a small sound of pleasure when his hands came up to cup her cheeks and massage behind her ears.

  She scrunched her eyes closed and drew a deep breath. “You know that I’m—fat.”

  He stepped closer to her, his hands still gentling her face, and he bent very near to whisper in her ear. “Fat, little hare? Is that what you think? The secret you hold?”

  She swallowed, wondering vaguely what he’d think if he knew her real secret, but then she was lost in the moment, as his mouth came down on hers, gentle but fast.

  * * *

  Ransom knew that what he was doing was out of bounds, but he couldn’t help himself. He kissed her, then muttered words into her shell-like ear, wanting her to know how very much he desired her.

  “Ach, little Beth, do you know how many sharp edges there are in the world? Your body was made to cradle a man and I love the way you—curve.” His lips found hers once more, and he impulsively deepened the kiss, gently exploring her pearly teeth with the tip of his tongue. Then he begged quietly, “Open for me, little hare.” He caught the awkward hiccup of air that she exhaled, and he realized she’d never kissed before. The thought both delighted and humbled him.

  When he finally pulled away, he was shaken and ran nervous fingers through his hair; then he caught her hand in his once more and continued their descent. He felt out of his depth, so lulled by the ethereal magic of Ice Mountain that, for once, he didn’t think of Barbara.

  They emerged at the bottom of the trail, and Ransom blinked in the bright sunlight as he helped Beth down the last few steps. The magic spell was broken when he glanced around and spotted a tall Englischer striding toward them from what used to be the mine’s gift shop.

  “Good morning!” The Englischer’s voice was hearty and seemed to match his dark red hair and brawny good looks.

  Ransom answered politely. “Gut morning.”

  “I’m Ryan Mason.”

  Ransom shook the other man’s hand. “Ransom King and Beth Mast.”

  Ransom wasn’t entirely sure what the man wanted but knew that Englischers were sometimes fascinated by the Amish; he wasn’t in the mood to be a novelty.

  The Englischer must have sensed some of Ransom’s reserve because he was quick to step away. “You came down to visit the mine, right? Please go on ahead. I just bought the gift shop here and am looking over things. I’m a youth pastor in Coudersport.”

  Ransom nodded and steered Beth away toward the heavy oaken door that shielded the entrance to the mine. He couldn’t really think about anything more than kissing her again and was glad when he found the heavy padlock on the door undone.

  “Watch your step,” he cautioned as he eased open the door. A blast of cold air greeted them, and then they were swallowed in thick darkness until Ransom turned up the lantern hanging on the cold wall inside.

  * * *

  Beth had forgotten how beautiful the palatial display of summer ice could be. Icicles, some as thick as a man’s forearm, hung in a delightful, crystalline cascade. Ransom kept an arm about her waist as they inched forward, careful to avoid the steep drop of the mine shaft itself.

  “It’s like a bit of heaven, isn’t it?” Beth asked, amazed as always by the wonder Gott had made.

  “Jah,” Ransom answered throatily. “A bit of heaven.”

  She felt the breadth of his chest press against her back, and she turned against his arm to look up into his dark eyes, which were illuminated by the lantern light. “You—you’re not talking about the ice, are you?”

  He shook his head sl
owly. “Nee.” Then he bent to press his mouth against the line of her throat. She arched like a contented feline, letting his kisses fall where they might.

  “I–I don’t know how to kiss right,” she murmured. She felt him smile against her lips.

  “I’ll teach you,” he promised.

  She felt as though some of the ice had melted around her at his husky words, but then she recalled the world atop the mountain and broke free from him in confusion.

  “What is it?” he asked, raising the lantern higher. “You must be careful of your step.”

  “Sei se gut, Ransom—can we geh now? I–I’m cold.”

  “Then let me warm you.” He took a step closer, but she drew away. “Little hare, what’s wrong?”

  “Don’t you see?” she pleaded, feeling a single tear trail down her cheek. “When we geh back—to Viola and Rose and everybody—you won’t—you won’t want this—me.”

  “Viola,” he snapped softly. “That’s where your thoughts are? Well, then, let us geh. I see I’m in need of kissing practice myself.”

  Beth felt her heart sink. “Please don’t be offended.” She touched his arm with tentative fingers and saw him give her a rueful smile.

  “I suppose I am acting like a fool. Kumme. Let’s geh out and see if that Englischer has any ice cream to buy.”

  Beth smiled and then laughed for a moment of joy as he swiped her mouth with a quick kiss.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ransom closed the heavy oak door to the mine, and the first thing he noticed outside was that the air hung heavy with the smell of smoke.

  The Englischer, Ryan Mason, gestured to them and then pointed to the top of Ice Mountain.

  “Fire!” he called. “Looks like it’s uncontained.”

  Ransom grabbed Beth’s hand. “It’s the Englisch cabins, I think, but . . .” He stopped, not wanting to voice the fear he could plainly read on Beth’s face—the forest land that grew near the cabins might catch fire as well, and that was a step too near the Amish community.