The Amish Midwife's Courtship

by Cheryl Williford

  Disappointment and relief battled within her as she trailed behind Ruth toward the pizza shop. She wanted Isaac to come with them, but was glad he didn’t. The agreement between them had left her tense, unsettled. She should have kept her mouth shut and not told Ruth about her and Isaac’s deception. What if Ruth couldn’t be trusted? She could tell someone, and the truth could get back to Mamm.

  Amish women loved to gossip. It was something to help pass the hours as they quilted, a tasty tidbit they could share over their fences. They were all the same. Ruth was no exception. Still, she and Isaac would only be pretending for a few weeks and then would part as friends. No one would be hurt by their little deception.

  * * *

  The smell of hot pizza floated into his bike shop, causing Isaac’s stomach to growl in loud protest. He had to count his pennies after the bicycle debacle at the thrift store. He glanced over at the six dented bikes lined up at the back of the store. At half price, the cost of the bikes had still taken a huge bite out of his food money. He’d have to tighten his belt. Miss a few dinners until he sold something.

  The bell rang out. Isaac glanced toward the door. Molly came charging in, her cheeks a rosy pink. She handed over a small, square pizza box and grinned awkwardly. “Ruth and I couldn’t eat the whole pie. I thought you might enjoy the last three slices while you work.”

  Isaac took the box from her hand. “Danke, but I thought Ruth was taking home the leftovers to her husband.”

  Molly’s smile disappeared and a grooved frown replaced it.

  “Ya, she was.” She fingered her prayer kapp ribbons. Her voice rose an octave, just enough to let him know she was uncomfortable. “She changed her mind...well, not exactly changed her mind. I might have mentioned that you were probably hungry.”

  He placed the pizza box on his desk and then turned back toward her. “You didn’t have to take care of me, Molly. I have some peanut butter crackers in my desk drawer reserved for busy days like this.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know.” She glanced toward the shop door, edging away, inch by inch. A red flush creeped up her neck. “I’ll see you later then. Tonight. At dinner. Mamm’s making fried chicken.” She almost smiled. “We have the singing at seven if you’re still willing to come.”

  “Ya, I want to come.” He did want to go with her and wished he didn’t. They were just starting their courting charade, and already he regretted it. He shouldn’t be taking the chance of falling in love with Molly. When she found out the truth about him, she’d back away, leave him brokenhearted.

  She fumbled for the doorknob behind her. “Gut. I’m glad. Well...enjoy your pizza.”

  “Sure,” he said, leaning against the low wall to take the weight off his aching leg.

  The bell over the door rang wildly as Molly rushed out and down the sidewalk, leaving Isaac alone with his thoughts.

  Isaac knew very little about women, but he recognized infatuation when he saw it. Molly had waited a long time to find love, but he was the wrong man for her. Somehow he had to make sure she saw that without crushing her young heart.

  Chapter Six

  “Don’t break that,” Ulla urged, her brow arched in annoyance.

  Molly glanced at her mamm’s expression of disapproval, slowed her pace and then placed her grossmammi’s beloved chicken platter gently on the linen-covered dining room table.

  She pushed a golden brown, perfectly fried chicken leg away from the plate’s edge and then turned to head back to the kitchen.

  “It makes me to wonder what all the rush is about,” her mamm said in a low tone, straightening first Isaac’s dinner plate and then stabbing a small knife into the dish of homemade butter.

  Molly watched as Isaac meandered through the dining room door and joined them, his dark hair still damp from a shower and curling at the ends.

  “This looks gut,” he said, and pulled out the chair he’d been assigned to by Ulla’s gesture. Molly smiled blandly at him. Ulla ignored him completely.

  “Danke, Isaac. Mamm knows her way around a frying pan,” Molly said, cutting a glance at her mother who was busy placing knives and forks next to three perfectly spaced plates.

  Molly frowned, and fluttered her eyelashes as a warning to Isaac. Her mother didn’t acknowledge Isaac coming into the room or Molly’s compliment in any way. The older woman was still stewing in some kind of silent simmer, having declared she’d had a long day when she’d begun to cook an hour earlier. Ulla remained silent as Molly assisted in any way she could.

  Molly breathed in deeply. She’d had a long day, too, and the last thing she needed was to be treated like some careless schoolgirl by her sullen mother.

  Isaac’s gaze flicked from Molly to Ulla, as if gauging the temperature between the two women.

  Molly left Isaac to fend for himself. He was a grown man. Let him deal with her mamm’s bad mood for a few moments. She had other things to do. There was creamed corn to place on the table before they could eat, and it was already close to six.

  In her haste she almost dropped the bowl of corn, and moments later she dripped a trail of water as she filled three glasses at the table. The singing frolic began promptly at seven. The Mennonite sports field would fill up quickly. It always did. She and Isaac would have to hurry if they wanted to find a good spot before the singing began.

  “You have somewhere to be, dochder? A child to birth? A shift at the café?” Ulla lowered herself into her chair, scooted forward and then clasped her hands in her ample lap.

  Molly had hoped they could get through the meal before telling her mamm she and Isaac were going out together. There’d be words, and in the black mood her mother was in, they’d probably be harsh and embarrassing. It was inevitable. “The frolic is at seven.” She hadn’t lied. She just hadn’t said she and Isaac would be going together and begin their courting ruse.

  They prayed in silence and then Ulla’s prayer kapp fluttered as she turned her head and took in Isaac’s freshly pressed dress shirt and clean trousers. “Will you be going to this frolic, Herr Graber?”

  Isaac pulled his hand back from the table. “Ya, I thought I would.”

  “I see,” Ulla said, fingering the edge of her plate. Her gaze shifted to Molly, to the clean dress she’d changed into just before they sat down to eat. Her mouth formed a hard edge.

  “Will you two be going together?”

  Molly bristled, realizing after tonight there would be plenty of questions to answer, but they didn’t have to be answered now. Her mamm would be furious when she thought Molly had shoved Samuel aside for Isaac, a man who had no money.

  Isaac nodded as he shoveled the last of his peas into his mouth and chewed vigorously. “I thought you’d think it best.” He glanced up, his expression innocent. “We can’t have you worrying that I might fall again.”

  Ulla smiled. “Ya, sure. That’s fine. And will Samuel be coming, Molly?”

  “Ya, he usually shows up if there’s food at the frolic.”

  “Gut,” Ulla said with a nod, letting her daughter’s comment about Samuel’s robust appetite slide past. She stopped to take a sip of water, then turned back to Molly. “Don’t worry about the dishes tonight, dochder. I’ll do them. You two best hurry now. You’ll want a good spot up front.”

  Molly didn’t need to be told twice. “Danke, Mamm.” She slipped from her chair and darted toward the kitchen, her relief visible on her smiling face. “Hurry, Isaac. I’ll grab the cookies. You grab the quilt.”

  “Is the frolic being held at your church?” Isaac asked ten minutes later as Molly sped through the sun-filled streets, the cart puttering along at a good clip.

  “Nee. Not this time.” She turned down a short street and joined a group of Amish bike riders. She slowed, waving to several women her own age as they passed. “The Mennonite church is sponsoring the commu
nity frolic. Most of the singings are held during the busy part of the winter. It’s not so hot, and there’s a lot more youngies looking for something to do.”

  “You’re sure about starting the ruse tonight?” Isaac asked.

  “You heard Mamm. ‘Is Samuel going to be there?’ She’s still pushing him in my face. If it’s to stop, I have to take a stand.”

  “I just thought...”

  Molly parked the golf cart next to the church’s chain-link fence and then turned to Isaac. “Are you backing out, because if you are, I understand.” She checked the position of her kapp and then picked up the cookies and slid out of the cart. “I’m not comfortable about lying, either, even for a little while. I just don’t know what else to do.”

  Daylight didn’t seem to be in any hurry to fade away. Molly looked Isaac’s way but couldn’t read his undecipherable expression. She did hear the tone in his voice as he said, “I’m your friend, Molly. I’ll do what I can to help you out. You know that.”

  She extended her hand his way.

  Isaac looked her in the eyes, seemed to momentarily hesitate, but then grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the growing crowd arriving around them. “Let’s get this mess with Samuel Bawell settled, once and for all.”

  She liked the feel of his rough palm pressed against hers, the way his warm fingers intertwined around hers. A thrill shot through her, and she was surprised by the power of it. She glanced up at Isaac as they walked, tethered to him in a way that made her heart beat fast and wild. But all this wasn’t real. He wasn’t walking out with her, wasn’t her true love. He was just a man who felt he owed her a favor and was paying her back in a kind way. Her joy died a silent death. Her smile faded. Once Samuel went back home, Isaac would step away.

  Isn’t that what she wanted? Her independence? Molly wasn’t quite sure.

  * * *

  Isaac hobbled to a distant bench at the back of the baseball field and sat alone, his cane leaning against his leg. The volleyball game was going well, the youngies’ enthusiasm growing as Molly launched the ball across the net again and again, winning points for her Amish teammates.

  Memories came back to haunt him. Thomas had been playing the same game the day he died. They’d all yelled themselves hoarse encouraging their team. Thomas had twisted his ankle playing this game. It was the reason Isaac had been driving the old truck on the country road back to his Mennonite friend’s farm.

  A spasm of pain clutched his thigh, reminding him he hadn’t died in the crash. So why did he feel so dead inside?

  Two laughing Mennonite girls ran past and waved. Dressed less formally than Molly’s pale blue dress and starched white kapp, they wore simple but bright colored dresses, with no kapps, their hair pulled back into long ponytails that streamed behind them. They ran barefoot across the soft grass.

  He waved back at them, but didn’t smile. He didn’t feel like smiling. He felt like sobbing out his heart for Thomas right there on the bench.

  Isaac looked up to see Molly’s wild ball shoot over the net and win the game for her Amish team. The game ended suddenly, with a choir of shouts. She came running toward him, glowing with excitement.

  “Did you see my last serve? I thought I’d completely missed the ball, but then it caught the edge of my fist and went soaring past them all.” She plopped down next to him and grabbed him around the neck, her arms hugging him tight to her side. She smelled of fresh air and lilacs. He gently pulled her arms from his neck and shifted away an inch or two. “I’m proud of you. I really am.”

  * * *

  Molly’s laughter stopped. She scooted away, putting more distance between them. Isaac had a smile on his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Her closeness had made him uncomfortable. “I’m sorry I got caught up in the moment. Forgive me for overstepping my boundaries.”

  “Don’t be silly. We’re supposed to be pretending to be courting. No harm done.” A breeze picked up. He pulled his straw hat down, his green eyes avoiding hers.

  Then why did he look so uncomfortable? “It’s getting dark. The singing should begin in a moment. You coming?”

  “Ya, sure. I don’t want to miss all the fun.” This time he held out his hand to her.

  She placed her hand in his and did her best to ignore the electricity that ran through her fingers as they walked across the field, him limping and her slowing her pace to match his steps.

  “Most people sit in the bleachers, but we can use the quilt and sit on the ground if you’d prefer.”

  “Nee, the bleachers are fine,” Isaac said, taking the lead, their hands still clasped, weaving them in and out of people until he found a spot big enough for the two of them on the first row.

  Wedged in on both sides, Molly had never sat so close to Isaac before, but he didn’t seem concerned about their proximity now. He grinned down at her and then gave all his attention to the singers who clustered together and began an old worship song Molly remembered from her younger years. The song was fast and lively, causing her to tap her foot as she’d done as a child.

  Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention. Samuel walked past, his eyes flicking over Isaac and then her. Unsmiling, he tipped his dark hat her way and then proceeded on.

  “Was that Samuel?” Isaac inquired.

  “Ya,” she responded and witnessed the instant change in Isaac’s expression, felt the tension in his hand she still held. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to remain still and calm. The expression Samuel threw her way spoke volumes. Samuel would tell her mamm that she and Isaac were setting close, holding hands.

  There was the lie to tell her mamm about her and Isaac’s courtship and then the questions she’d be asked. Her mamm would be disappointed in her, make a fuss. How would her mother treat Isaac once she had heard? Would she ask him to leave their home?

  The tempo of the music became soft, the words to the old Amish song tugging at her heart. The words said Gott would sustain them, keep them strong in the Lord. Had she angered Gott with her plan? Would her lie distance her from Him, from His salvation?

  She watched as Isaac rubbed at his leg, his brow creasing into deep furrows. “Is your leg troubling you?”

  He looked down, pale, his mouth a fixed line. “Some.”

  “We can go now if you want.”

  “Nee, you said you wanted to hear the singing. I’ll be fine.”

  Molly rose and tugged at his arm. “Come on. The singing will go on until ten. Let’s go home.”

  He stood and had to brace himself against his cane for the first time that day.

  They moved toward the parking lot, their steps slow, Isaac holding on to his cane for support.

  “I’m sorry, Isaac. I didn’t think of the long walk to the bleachers. I should have suggested we go somewhere less strenuous because of your leg,” Molly said as they reached the golf cart.

  He slid into the passenger seat. “I’m fine. The doctor said I should be venturing out more now, putting more weight on my leg.”

  Molly started the engine and turned on the cart’s lights. “I think we should talk about this courtship, Isaac. I hadn’t thought about how my mamm might act toward you once we began the ruse.” She reached out and touched his arm. “It could get ugly. She might even ask you to leave the house.”

  “You let me worry about your mamm. Your job is to look happy and smile a lot.”

  She drove away from the church, the little golf cart sputtering in protest as she gunned it. “I had a good time tonight,” she said, glancing at him. She saw him grasp the edge of the cart and hold on. Molly knew she did many things well, but driving wasn’t one of them.

  “So did I. We’ll have to do something else later this week if you’re free. I heard there’s a pie-eating contest coming up soon, and a public auction I’d like to go to if you’re in
terested.”

  Molly sped down the well-lit street, her thoughts a jumbled mess. The words to the old hymn came back to haunt her. Gott will take care of you. She longed to have this charade over, but knew she’d miss Isaac more than she wanted to admit when he walked away.

  Chapter Seven

  Dressed in dark trousers and a fresh white shirt and matching vest, his cane polished to a honey glow, Isaac gave the Old Order Amish church a glance and favored his healing but still throbbing leg as he slowly rode past the brick building on his bicycle. A row of traditionally dressed Amish men stood at the side doors of the building, their line ending on the grassy lawn.

  He leaned toward the more modern Anabaptist church philosophy, not that he ignored Ordnung rules or bylaws of the church. One of the many reasons he’d decided to come to Pinecraft was to get away from his disappointed, angry, Old Order Amish father. The man ran his home with harsh rules that felt more man-made than Gott-given since Thomas’s death.

  Isaac rode on. When he’d arrived in Pinecraft, he’d been surprised to hear the community had built churches, their houses too small to accommodate local church services during peak seasons.

  With the turn of his bike handles, he pulled into the driveway of the smaller New Order Amish church a few streets over and headed to the back parking lot. A line of six young, unmarried men stood behind a stretch of older men with long beards blowing in the wind. Some nodded in his direction as he parked his bike and hobbled up. Several were stone-faced as his father had always been on Sundays before church, but most smiled a greeting.

  Isaac glanced around, saw a few familiar faces, but Molly was nowhere in sight. They hadn’t agreed to meet at church when they’d gone their separate ways the night before. She’d gone to her room without a glance back, and he’d avoided the kitchen when he’d left early that morning in hopes of avoiding Ulla.

  Several of the elders filed into the church through the building’s side door. Isaac recognized Mose, and his father, Bishop Otto Fischer.