Courting His Amish Wife

by Emma Miller

  Eve smiled. “I wish you’d tell him that.”

  Rosemary chuckled. “I tell them both, sometimes at the same time, but—” she shrugged “—men. With matters of the heart, they can move at a snail’s pace.”

  Eve met Rosemary’s gaze. “Danke.”

  Rosemary drew back, her green eyes crinkling at the corners. “For what?”

  “For your kindness.” Eve lowered her head and then raised it again to look her in the eye. “For welcoming me here, even if it wasn’t in the circumstances you had expected. I’m so happy here, and part of that is because of you, Rosemary.”

  The older woman smiled. “Ach, I’m glad you’re happy.” She gestured with her chin in the direction of the harness shop. “Now, what say you and I break up this discussion between our husbands before they raise their voices and scare off all our customers.”

  Eve laughed at Rosemary’s practicality and walked beside her, the list tucked safely in her pocket, along with hope that her relationship with Levi’s stepmother would only grow stronger over time.

  * * *

  The following church Sunday, Levi stood a few feet from a group of older men who had gathered beside the Fishers’ fence, his hands deep in his pockets, head bowed so that the brim of his wool hat shielded his face. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he didn’t need to. He had heard his name spoken, and by the body language he was observing, he knew what they were saying.

  After services and the midday meal, those adults who would become a part of the new church district had gathered to accept nominations for the two preacher positions and one deacon. Members of the congregation had been instructed two weeks before to spend time in prayer to seek God’s will in their new church’s founding. The duties of the preachers would be to give sermons at services. The new deacon would serve as Bishop Simon’s assistant of sorts. He would collect donations, when required, in their community, speak to those in need of moral righting or counseling, and make marriage announcements, among other duties. Deacons and preachers were unpaid, and many hours and sacrifices were required from both the candidate and his family. They were no positions any man wanted, but when called by his people, by God, it was a sacrifice required by their faith.

  Earlier, folks had stood and called out names. Any man whose name was given up three times or more would be included in the list of possible candidates. At the next church service in two weeks, two slips of paper would be placed in two hymnals, and those books would be placed in a stack with hymnals that did not have a slip of paper in them. Each man whose name has been offered up as a possible preacher would choose a hymnal. The two men who chose the hymnals with the slips of paper in them would be the men God had chosen to be the new preachers. The same process would take place to select a new deacon.

  Levi’s gaze shifted to his father, who stood in the circle of men. His heart ached that his father still believed he had sinned and not confessed. All men and women sinned; that was a given. But to not to confess—that was what stuck in his father’s craw. He knew that because during their evening prayers, led by his father, the subject was often addressed.

  Levi had probably been more surprised than anyone else the first time his name was announced as a possible preacher candidate. Having his name repeated twice more had shocked him. So he would be one of the men to choose a hymnal during the next service. And possibly become one of their preachers.

  The first time his name was spoken, he’d heard a shuffle of feet, a few whispers. By the third time, there were audible sounds. No one spoke, but throats were cleared, and there was coughing and shifting on the pews.

  It was obvious to Levi that there were those who did not believe his name should be in the pool. Because Levi had married without his parents’ knowledge, everyone had jumped to the conclusion that he had sinned. Because they believed that Levi was not a man right with God and should not, therefore, be considered.

  Levi stood there a few minutes longer, listening to the rumble of the men’s voices. A raindrop fell on his hand and he looked up into the sky. The air was humid and rainclouds were gathering.

  He wondered if he ought to find Eve and set off for home. If they didn’t go soon, they’d get wet on the two-mile walk, but it was either walk or get into a buggy with his father, and right now, he didn’t know if he could do that.

  Just as Levi was about to turn away, he heard his father’s strong baritone voice. “I value everyone’s thoughts on this matter, but I have to ask you this...” He paused, looking from one man to the next, taking his time, drawing their undivided attention. “Do we trust in the process?”

  “What?” someone asked.

  “Do we believe in this process of selection for our church?” Levi’s father asked.

  Men responded one after another.

  “Ya.”

  “We do.”

  “It’s how it’s done. How it’s always been done,” came the voices.

  “Then why, my friends,” he asked, “would we remove a man’s name that has been offered up not once, but three times by our congregation?” Again, Levi’s father paused. He waited for a ripple of muted utterances to pass and then went on. “If we trust this process, if we accept that it is God who will be choosing these men by setting their hand on the right hymnal, why would we think we should remove a name from the candidates?”

  No one said anything. Men stared at their shoes.

  “If Levi Miller is not meant to be a preacher, God will not choose him,” his father said in a calm, steady voice.

  Sadness washed over Levi. His father had not defended him, only the process. His father didn’t think him fit to be a preacher.

  Levi walked away.

  He crossed the barnyard as the sky grew darker and walked up to the house. Spotting his brother Jesse, he called out to him. “Have you seen Eve?”

  Jesse was sitting on the porch rail with two boys about the same age. “Ya, in the kitchen, I think.”

  “Could you go inside and tell her I’m ready to go?”

  Thirteen-year-old Jesse, who had grown tall and lanky over the summer, jumped down from the rail. “But Levi. It’s going to rain. That’s why—”

  “Please do as I ask,” Levi interrupted.

  Without another word, Jesse went into the house.

  Levi walked out to Marshall’s driveway and waited. A few minutes later, Eve hurried down the porch steps, her bonnet in her hand.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked as she joined him.

  “It’s going to rain. If we don’t go now, we’ll get wet.” Levi started down the driveway toward the road.

  Eve put her bonnet on her head and began to tie it under her chin. “That’s why we brought two buggies, so—”

  “I’m going home. Come with me,” he intoned, lengthening his stride. “Or stay and return with my family. Your choice.”

  She hurried to catch up with him, hurt obvious in her voice. “You are my family, Levi. Of course I’ll come home with you.”

  They walked in silence to the road and turned toward home before she spoke again. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He kept walking. He wanted to tell her, but he was afraid he would cry if he spoke of it right now. He knew his father was disappointed in him, but he couldn’t believe he hadn’t spoken up for his own son’s character.

  “Levi, please,” Eve murmured, slipping her arm through his. “Please talk to me.”

  He shook his head. “Not now,” he muttered.

  And then the rain began in earnest and he wondered if it had been a mistake ever coming home to Hickory Grove.

  * * *

  On her hands and knees, Eve spread the thick green leaves of the closest sprawling plant and spied a cucumber just the right size and color for picking. She snapped it off the vine and added it to the peck basket in the row between her and Tara.

  “Yo
u’re quiet today,” Tara said. “What’s troubling you?”

  Eve took a moment to respond. A part of her thought she shouldn’t say anything about Levi. He was her husband and it wasn’t right to talk about him behind his back. But a part of her thought it was time she did something. Else she feared their marriage might not ever be what she had begun to think was possible.

  Eve had tried to be patient with Levi. For two full days, she had kept quiet and waited for him to tell her why he had become so upset after church on Sunday. She had waited for him to tell her why he had barely spoken to her, to anyone since leaving Lovey and Marshall’s. She suspected it had something to do with his name being one of the five who had been proposed for preacher, but she had no way of knowing because he wouldn’t tell her.

  That morning, now the third day, she had stood in the doorway of their bedroom, blocking his escape, and asked him outright what had him so upset. She didn’t tell him that his black mood made her fear they were losing everything they had accomplished in their marriage in the last two months. Since church on Sunday, he had gone back to avoiding her, barely speaking, and bordered on rudeness with her and his family. He had turned so far inward that she wasn’t only worried about the health of their marriage, but about him.

  Levi had refused to meet her gaze. He told her he would talk about it when he was ready and he wasn’t ready. And then he had ducked under her arm and walked out of their bedroom.

  Eve had been so frustrated, so angry with him, that she had wanted to throw something at him. Not something hard that would hurt him—maybe a pillow or a balled-up sock, something to knock some sense into him.

  “Did I do something wrong?” Tara asked, getting Eve’s attention again.

  Eve sat up, settling her dusty hands in her lap. She was quiet for a moment and then made a decision. “It’s Levi,” she said softly. “He’s not been himself since church Sunday and I’m not sure why.”

  Tara looked surprised. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Tara, who’d been picking cucumbers a few feet ahead of Eve, crawled the distance between them and sat up. Her knees pressed against Eve’s. “There was a big hullabaloo after services,” she said in a half whisper.

  Eve frowned, feeling her forehead crease. “About what?”

  “Choosing the preachers!” She leaned closer. “Some people don’t think Levi is an acceptable candidate.”

  “Why?” Eve asked, slapping at a mosquito. Since the rain Sunday, they had been bad. Because of the pests, she and Tara had waited until late morning when the sun was higher, but not so high as to be roasting, to come out to pick cucumbers to make pickles.

  Tara bit down on her lower lip.

  Eve rose to her knees and grabbed Tara’s hand. “Please, Tara. You have to tell me because Levi won’t...or can’t. And I can’t help him if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  Tara pursed her lips. “Mam says I need to do a better job of minding my own knitting.”

  Eve released her. “This is not gossip. I’m Levi’s wife, and I need to help him. And I need your help to do that.” She frowned. “Why don’t they think Levi should be considered for the job of preacher?”

  Tara folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. Her cheeks reddened. “Because no one knew you were getting married,” she whispered under her breath. “And... And some say he should have made a confession to Bishop Simon.”

  Tara’s words practically knocked the wind out of Eve, and she sat back hard on her heels.

  “I’m sorry,” Tara said softly. “That’s what Martha Gruber said she heard her mother telling their neighbor.”

  Wiping her damp brow, Eve looked away. The huge garden was beautiful, with its neat rows of bright green plants and the soft, turned-up soil that created paths between them. She watched a butterfly flutter above a flower in a small patch of mixed wildflowers. Rosemary had interspersed beds of herbs as well as flowers in the vegetable garden.

  Eve took a breath and turned back to Tara. “It’s okay,” she assured her. “It’s going to be all right.” She straightened her spine. “Levi and I are going to figure this out.” She glanced across the garden to stare at the big dairy barn in the distance. Then she looked back at Tara. “Could you finish up picking the cucumbers? I have something I have to do.”

  “Ya, of course, Schweschder.” Tara offered a shy smile. “I would do anything for you.”

  Touched that Tara would call her sister, Eve threw her arms around the younger girl and hugged her tightly. Determined to get to the bottom of this matter with her husband, she rose, dusted bits of dirt and leaves off her apron and strode barefoot down the row.

  She was scared, but she would go to Levi. Because she wanted their marriage to be a good one. And even though he didn’t love her, she was still hopeful that someday he would.

  Chapter Eleven

  At first, Eve was disappointed when she didn’t find Levi in his shop. Then she was annoyed when Bay, who was busy watering mums in her greenhouse, told Eve that he had left in a wagon an hour previously to repair a buggy axle a good distance away. When Eve had asked her how long she thought he’d been gone, she’d shrugged and said something about as grumpy as he’d been, she was hoping he’d be gone a week or so.

  With nothing to do but wait, Eve went about her day. She returned to the garden to help Tara finish harvesting cucumbers and then spent hours washing them, slicing them, and making bread and butter pickles to can. Again and again, she went to the kitchen window, hoping to see the wagon parked near the shop. As the hours on the wall clock ticked by, she went from being annoyed with her husband to becoming worried. He’d never said a word to her about being gone all day, and she began to fear that he’d been in an accident on the road. It wasn’t unheard of. Horse and buggies and wagons were hit on the road all the time, and Amish folks died in those kinds of accidents.

  When Levi finally walked into the house, Eve was putting supper on the table. Her chest heaving with relief, she had greeted him with a smile, but he only nodded and excused himself to wash up.

  Levi was quiet through the entire meal of cold ham slices, chow-chow, mustard potato salad and sweet and sour beets. He didn’t even comment on the cheddar biscuits he had to know she’d made fresh just for him. Several times as the evening dragged, Eve tried to make eye contact with him, hoping they could step outside together to talk, but he avoided her gaze.

  After evening prayers, Eve climbed the stairs alone, prepared for bed and waited for her husband in their bedroom. He was so long in coming that she feared he wasn’t, but she was still awake when he opened the door.

  Levi walked into their bedroom and seemed startled to find her sitting on the edge of the bed. She’d washed up and was wearing a white summer nightgown Rosemary had given her. Eve’s prayer kapp was lying neatly on top of the chest of drawers, stuffed with white paper to keep its shape. She wore her hair loose down her back, which fell to her waist.

  He looked so surprised that, for a moment, she feared he might turn around and walk out.

  “Close the door,” she said softly, but in a tone that told him she meant business.

  He hovered in the doorway. “Eve—”

  “Close the door,” she repeated evenly, making a point to keep her voice down. “Unless you want everyone in this house to hear what I have to say.”

  He got a stricken look on his face and closed the door.

  Eve pressed her lips together. She’d been rehearsing what she wanted to say to him, but now her knees were shaking beneath her gown. She sent a little prayer heavenward, asking for God’s help in finding the words she needed to get through to her husband. Her whole life, she’d tried to be quiet, meek and mild. She had tried to be the woman her father wanted her to be. He had warned her repeatedly that it was not a woman’s place to speak against a man. She imagined he had given her mothe
r the same lecture.

  But what if her mother had spoken up when her father had tried to silence her? Would her father have become a different man? If Eve’s mother had established a different sort of marriage in their early days as husband and wife, would her father have not grown to be so harsh and rigid?

  On Sunday, the deacon had read a verse from the Bible that came to Eve’s mind. The only words she could recall right now were: Be courageous, be strong. Had those words been meant for her? For this moment?

  When she heard the sound of the door click closed, she stood up. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

  He pressed a thumb and forefinger to his temples and blinked. He looked tired. “Tell you what?”

  “That people spoke up against you after church. That there are those who—” Her words got caught in her throat and she had to take a moment before she could go on. “There are those who think you aren’t fit to be a preacher.”

  His hand fell to his side and his gaze to his bare feet. He’d already cleaned up for bed. “I didn’t want to be a preacher anyway.”

  She took a step toward him. “That’s not the point, Levi. It’s not up to you. It’s up to Gott,” she said, somehow finding the strength she needed to keep from backing down. To say what needed to be said.

  He set his jaw, still not meeting her gaze.

  “You should have told me,” she repeated. “I’m your wife, and to make this marriage work, we have to be able to tell each other things. Even if we’re embarrassed. Even if they hurt.”

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, shaking his head. “It was only that I didn’t want to...upset you.”

  “Not a good reason.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Those people who spoke against you, it’s because of me, isn’t it? It’s because we married so quickly and everyone made the assumption that we—” She felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment, but she pressed on because this was not the time to be shy and girlish. “They thought we acted as man and wife when we were not.” She hesitated and then asked, “Is that why you’re so upset? Because they don’t think you are morally fit to speak God’s word?”