An Amish Wedding Feast on Ice Mountain

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An Amish Wedding Feast on Ice Mountain Page 13

by Kelly Long


  “Sure.” Beth smiled, pleased he was willing to play with the children.

  Ransom sat down next to her.

  “Pretend you’re married,” Sienna suggested brightly.

  Beth couldn’t help the flush that she knew stained her cheeks, and it surely didn’t help matters when Ransom gave her a wolfish grin.

  “Okay,” Beth said, taking a breath. “Herr, er, King and I are the customers. So, we give our order to the waiter and the cooks go off and cook!”

  “We need ’gredients for our recipes,” April cried.

  “What are we going to use for ingredients? We don’t have a refrigerator out here,” Sienna said logically.

  “Well, we pretend. For example . . .” Beth had pulled a leaf from the ground. “You can use a large leaf as a plate.”

  Beth glanced sideways at Ransom, and he hastily grabbed some grass between his fingers. “And grass can be your salad!”

  “And sticks can be forks!” Sienna smiled, passing one to Ransom.

  The game had gone on for a gut twenty minutes—long enough for Beth to wish that she might become Frau King one day....

  Now she tested the thoughts against her normal insecurities and found that the truths could hold their own weight. It was like a candle in the snow, and she held the idea close to her heart.

  * * *

  Later that evening, Ransom bent over the worktable in the back of the woodshop, showing his fater the sketch choices Mrs. Lott had picked out.

  “The children’s furniture would look gut in hickory sapwood. Just right for little girls, with its bright white, and it’s stronger than oak to stand up to quite a few years of wear and tear,” his fater mused, tracing a finger across the page. “As a matter of fact, it might be nice to start on a few of these for when the grandkinner come about.” His fater nudged him gently with a smile.

  Ransom nudged him back. “You’ve got to be talking about Jeb and Lucy . . . right?”

  “I heard from your mamm that Beth Mast was over here the other day. . . .”

  “Daed.” Ransom sighed.

  “Go on now, sohn. I’m only teasing.”

  “I know.” Ransom smiled, but then sobered as something came to his mind. “Hey, Daed . . . can you tell me how Beth’s fater died?”

  “Ach, that’s a sad telling, sohn.” His fater considered. “But I’ll tell you just the same. Chet Mast was a gut friend, and at times, I miss him sorely. But . . . he was killed in a buggy accident one afternoon on the way home from Coudersport.”

  “I knew that.” Ransom nodded. “But was there anything—strange about what happened?”

  “Strange?”

  “Ach, I don’t know what I mean.... It’s just that Beth appears so pale and almost frozen by terror when I’ve chanced to mention her fater.”

  “Well, you know, there was one thing strange, now that I think of it. Beth herself couldn’t be found after the accident. Some of the men even started to search for her. Chet had taken her along to enjoy the ride.”

  “Where was she?”

  “In a cornfield.”

  “Near the accident site?”

  “Nee, nearly a mile away. It’s a wonder we found the child. She was silent for days, even through the funeral. Then she slowly seemed to come back to herself.”

  Ransom thought hard and determined to gently ask Beth about that day. Though what right do I have to pry into the past? I certainly couldn’t bear anyone looking into mine. . . . Still, she is my friend . . . my friend with kisses . . . who I love.

  * * *

  The following day, Beth was tired after spending most of the hot afternoon at the worksite playing with the kinner, but she was also grateful for time next to Ransom on the ride home.

  “I had fun with you and the girls today,” she said with a smile.

  He gave her an absentminded nod. “Me too.”

  She was silent for a few minutes, sensing he was deep in thought. “Is everything all right, Ransom?”

  “Hmmm? Jah—I—was just thinking of a conversation I had with Bishop Umble, and it kind of weighs on me.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “The past.” He half-turned to look at her. “How we have to forgive ourselves for the past.”

  Beth felt overwhelming desolation. As if that were possible, she thought with sudden and deep pain. She turned to look out at the cornfields, growing high with the summer sun. She remembered how their leaves had felt—cool and stiff against her skin. And had to drag her mind back to the present when she realized Ransom was speaking.

  “Beth?”

  “Jah—I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I was just asking about the day your daed died . . . My fater told me you were missing for part of that day.... Do you remember where you were?”

  “In a cornfield,” she said slowly. Then something in her rebelled and screamed that he had no right to question her about that day. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  She saw him nod, but he went on, almost musing. “I thought you might have seen the accident or—”

  “I said that I don’t want to talk about it,” she shrilled, then leaped down from the slow-moving wagon and just barely cleared the wheel.

  Ransom pulled back on the reins and Benny protested with a loud noise. Beth covered her ears and ran into the Loftus’ cornfield without looking back.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ransom pulled Benny off to the side of the dirt road, then jumped down and dove into the high corn, following Beth’s path.

  “Beth! Beth, stop!”

  But she kept going and he had to run, diving through the stalks. He finally caught up with her and nearly fell over her huddled form on the ground in front of him.

  “Beth?” He gentled his voice, as if he were speaking to some wild fawn he’d found, and sank down beside her. “Beth? Honey . . . what is it?”

  She spoke no words but let out a low, keening wail, her small mouth open and her eyes closed. He recognized her abject misery and it tore at his heart. He tried to put his arms around her, but she jerked away from him. He could only kneel beside her, listening to her cry.

  This lasted for several long minutes until, finally, she quieted and was still, her head bent low. He waited, saying nothing, but praying hard inside for her, praying that he would have the wisdom to know what to do for her.

  He took a deep breath. “Aenti Ruth says you know a powerful secret.” He wanted to kick himself, but nothing else had come to mind except to speak of the commonplace things in their lives.

  “Do you know a secret, little hare?”

  To his immense relief, she nodded slowly, still not opening her eyes.

  “Yeah, I know one too.... Our secrets make us kindred spirits. Did you know that, Beth? We have companionship in our suffering and companionship with Derr Herr—that’s something pretty special, don’t you think?”

  He listened to her breathing slow as she shuddered, then swiped her hands across her runny nose. He gently reached out two fingers and touched her sleeve, a whisper of a touch; she opened her eyes. She looked around, seeming to take in her surroundings for the first time. Then she looked at him, her eyes wide open. He risked gathering her to him and she yielded. He leaned over and picked her up as he got to his feet.

  “Ach, Ransom,” she said in a choked whisper, and he cuddled her close, his own heartbeat finally slowing to normal as he strode back through the corn with her in his arms.

  * * *

  Later that night, in her bed, Beth thought about the moments in the cornfield. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she owed Ransom an apology. It had all happened so fast . . . just like that day. She thought about what she had done then, when she was younger, and knew she hadn’t cried. Not then. Just running, running, free . . .

  She sighed aloud and reached down beside her to touch Thumbelina, who purred contentedly at her presence. “Well,” she whispered to the cat, “I might as well do something productive and start on the s
ewing for the dollhaus.”

  Ransom had shared with her that he and his fater had framed out a dollhaus to give to Olivia Lott. “A dollhouse!” she’d cried happily. “For Mrs. Lott. You remembered what she said about her grandfather’s dollhouse being burned in the fire.... How kind you are, Ransom.”

  “Danki, Beth. The haus is made of pine.”

  “I can almost smell it. Pine smells so like Christmas!”

  He’d nodded. “And it has a spiral staircase planned.”

  “You remembered she said it had a spiral staircase. . . you really listened.”

  “Thank you,” he’d said softly. “I was hoping you could give me advice on colors for the rooms, and perhaps sew little cushions or rugs, and curtains for the windows. I want the window frames to geh up and down.... Anyway, I hope we can work on this together, and that it might be a special gift we leave in the cabin for her and the kinner.”

  Beth had caught his hand and given it an impulsive squeeze. “Danki, Ransom. I’d love to build it with you.”

  Now she stayed up late, carefully crafting tiny pillows and miniature quilts from her sewing scrap bag. She also braided four miniature rugs and sewed each one together. Beth realized that it might be fun to teach the Lott girls how to do some sewing and decided to take her sewing kit with her the next time she went to the worksite.

  Finally, she grew tired and drifted off, holding Thumbelina close, as if he might ward off any bad dreams.

  * * *

  Talking with Aenti Ruth while she was taking Sarah’s herbal pain medicine was interesting, to say the least. So far that early morning, Ransom had been directed to remove an imaginary beaver from the tabletop and pull an elephant from his aenti’s old-fashioned shoe. But then she settled down, and he was able to share the chair by the couch with Petunia. “So, what do you think of Beth’s secret?” she asked in a slurred voice.

  “I don’t know it, or at least not all of it,” he returned quietly.

  Aenti Ruth stretched to pat his knee. “She’ll tell you when she’s gut and ready. ‘Tell the truth in love’—she needs to feel your love, Ransom . . . and get that narrisch squirrel off the table; it’ll scare Jack.”

  Ransom didn’t bother to deny what his aenti was saying—chances were the auld lady wouldn’t remember saying it anyway. But she was right; he knew that deep inside, even as he removed the imaginary squirrel from the tabletop.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Beth beat the egg whites until her arm and shoulder were stiff, but finally, they began to form stiff little peaks. She added cream of tartar and vanilla and almond extract, as well as the dry ingredients, then poured the lot into a tube pan. She would make the frothy, boiled icing later. It was Viola’s favorite cake and today was her birthday. Beth wanted to surprise her with it after supper that evening.

  Next, she concentrated on getting the pies ready to take with her to share at the worksite; then she went to look out the window at the oncoming dawn. She turned hastily when she heard a soft knock at the back screen door. Her heart began to thump in her chest as she realized it was Ransom.

  She went to open the door, unsure of how she should behave after the incident yesterday, but then he came in and smiled at her and everything felt normal again.

  “Ransom, I’m sorry about yesterday. I–I can’t really explain what happened, but I was scared. I appreciate your help and kindness.” She knew she sounded rather stiff, but she couldn’t let him know anything else.

  He bent down and put his arms around her. She didn’t pull away, yet at the same time she wasn’t sure of herself with him. “It was my—honor to be with you in those moments, little hare. And no, I don’t understand completely, but I think Gott is moving in our lives, and that is powerful.”

  She hadn’t thought about it like that, but a sudden image came to her mind. When she was a little girl, her fater had taken her to the Susquehanna River in March to see the ice go out. It had been an amazing experience to watch the great, white, bluish-tinted pieces of ice jostle one another to make their way down the river. The sense of power and wonder at this beautiful phenomenon of nature somehow involved a release like the one she found in Ransom’s arms.

  “I think that you are right,” she said finally. “But it is a scary experience.”

  “Tell me about it,” he said ruefully.

  She watched his eyes search the kitchen and asked what he was looking for. “Well—I haven’t had breakfast yet, to tell you the truth, and I wondered if I might buy a blueberry pie from you. I’m in the mood for pie.” They both laughed softly at this, and she shook her head at him.

  “Please sit down and I’ll get it for you.”

  “I’m going to take you up on that, little hare.”

  Beth watched him geh and sit at the table and went to gladly cut a piece of blueberry pie. He took a taste and smiled broadly. “Excellent pie, Miss Mast! You seem to have many hidden abilities, including your kissing, I might add.”

  She blushed and he laughed. She realized that this quiet time in the morning together was a gift, and she wondered if this was what it was like to love someone—just to sit in their company and feel peace and happiness.

  “Ach.” Ransom grinned. “I can see those feminine wheels turning in your pretty head. What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing that bears repeating,” she said airily, proud of herself for being able to talk to him with ease. “I made some things for the dollhaus last nacht,” she said, and Ransom nodded with interest.

  “It’s coming along well and should be finished by the time we have the work frolic at the cabins. Abel has been tinkering around with some miniature furniture.”

  “Would you like to see what I’ve made?” she asked shyly.

  He smiled at her tenderly. “Of course.”

  “I’ll be right back, then.”

  * * *

  Ransom waited patiently for Beth and was surprised when there was a soft knock on the back door. Thinking it might be Abel with some question about the work, he went quickly to open the door and was amazed to see Ryan Mason standing there in the half light. The Englischer was staying with Bishop Umble for a bit while the cabins were finished.

  “Yes?” Ransom asked, feeling jealousy rise up in his throat. What is this guy doing at Beth’s door this early in the morning?

  “Ransom.” Ryan smiled. “May I come in?”

  “I suppose.” Ransom widened the door reluctantly, and the other man entered cheerfully.

  “I came to check on Beth,” Ryan explained. “I heard there was some trouble for her in the cornfield yesterday.”

  “What?” Ransom was incredulous. No one knows that happened but Beth and I . . .

  “You’d be surprised how news travels,” Ryan said, as if reading Ransom’s mind. “So, how is she?”

  Ransom glared at the man. “She’s fine.”

  “Is she? Because I think she was reliving some part of the day of her father’s death.”

  “What? How do you know—”

  “Like I said, news travels. And because we are talking about Beth and that day, I’ve heard that she didn’t speak for a while. It’s funny how guilt can silence us on one hand but make us scream inside on the other.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ransom growled softly.

  “I mean, guilt and regret are powerful things, and you do know what I’m talking about, Ransom King. You still have the sonogram, don’t you?”

  Ransom was speechless. No one but Gott knew of the small black-and-white picture he had tucked in the Bible he’d brought back from his grossdauddi’s. He hadn’t looked at it in years, but it was there, ever present in the back of his mind.

  Ryan shrugged at his continued silence. “See, you can’t speak. You worry what people will think of you, that no one would care for you if they knew, right?”

  “Get out.” Ransom stepped closer to the other man and longed to beat him with his fists. He had no idea why this anger should be
churning so intensely inside him, but he didn’t want this odd man near Beth.

  “It’s okay, Ransom,” Ryan said softly. “I won’t hurt her and I’ll go. I see I’ve pressed too hard this morning.”

  Ryan slipped out the door and Ransom stood with his head bowed in the kitchen, frozen by Mason’s words and insight. The Englischer had turned over rocks in the water of Ransom’s mind and the experience was painful. “Nee,” Ransom said out loud. “I don’t want you near Beth.”

  * * *

  Beth came back to the kitchen carrying her sewing box. “Ach, I thought I heard you talking with someone.”

  Ransom crossed the kitchen in two long strides. He stood in front of her and lifted his hands to frame her surprised face. Without preamble, and with the pressing need to somehow keep her safe, he bent his head and kissed her hard. Then, because her lips were so sweet, he softened the kiss and moved to press his forehead against hers. “Ach, Beth,” he whispered. “Sweet, sweet little hare.” He kissed her again, with deepening passion.

  “What is going on here!”

  The screech made Ransom’s head ring, but he automatically pressed his arms around Beth, feeling her shiver with sudden fear.

  He looked over Beth’s head and met Rose’s furious gaze. He was wondering vaguely how he might explain the situation to shield Beth when Viola joined the fray, looking disheveled in a surprisingly hued purple dressing gown.

  “Mother! He—She was kissing him!” Rose screamed the words like a petulant child, clearly hoping to put Beth in the wrong.

  Ransom felt Beth move in his arms and he glanced down, seeing her pale face and knowing instinctively that she was about to assume the blame. He pulled her closer.

  “Frau Mast, Rose.” He kept his words measured. “You’ve discovered our secret. Beth and I are courting.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Beth had to skip to keep up with his long strides as he threaded his way through mountain laurel and sumac, obviously headed for the creek.

  “Why did you say that?” she demanded for the fifth time, but he didn’t seem to hear her. Instead, he kept walking fast until the dim roar of the rushing creek became a background noise. Then he turned to her.

 

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