An Amish Wife for Christmas

by Patricia Davids

  “What does she have against Jesse?” Michael asked.

  “Nothing, except he hasn’t noticed her in all the time she has been trying to catch his attention.”

  “She likes Jesse? Are you sure?”

  “Very sure. Do you think this is everyone?” She glanced into the full living room, where the church benches had been set out in two rows for the men and the women.

  “I think so.”

  “Where are the children?” Bethany looked around. “I hope Jenny is not getting her new dress dirty.”

  “I think she’s trying to figure out some way to smuggle Sadie Sue in.”

  “As much as I like your dog, I’m not going to have her at my wedding.”

  He laughed and pointed up the stairwell. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

  Jenny was kneeling at the top of the steps with Sadie Sue lying beside her. The two of them scurried back down the hall when they realized they had been spotted.

  “Do you want me to speak to her?” he asked.

  “Nee, she knows better. She will behave. I hope.”

  The bishop came up to them. “Are you ready?”

  They smiled at each other and nodded. “We’re ready,” they said in unison.

  While the preparations had been rushed, the ceremony itself went off without a hitch. The bishop was short-winded for a change and the preaching lasted only three hours. As Bethany stood beside Michael in front of the bishop, she couldn’t help but realize how very blessed she was to have found the perfect man. She couldn’t stop smiling.

  Afterward, Bethany went upstairs to change her black kapp for a white one. In the corner of the room facing the front door, the Eck, or the “corner table,” was quickly set up for the wedding party.

  When it was ready, Michael took his place with Jesse and Ivan seated to his right. Bethany was ushered back in and took her seat at his left-hand side. It symbolized the place she would occupy in his buggy and in his life. Her cheeks were rosy red and her eyes sparkled with happiness. They clasped hands underneath the table. Michael squeezed her fingers. “You are everything I could have asked for and so much more.”

  “I promise to try and be a goot wife to you,” she said with a meekness he distrusted.

  “Just be yourself. That will be good enough.”

  “You realize you get to choose the seating arrangements for the single people this evening, don’t you?” Gemma asked.

  Michael shrugged. “I haven’t given it much thought.”

  “This might be the first wedding in New Covenant but I’m going to make sure it isn’t the last,” Bethany said with a wink at her friend.

  Jenny sat on the other side of Gemma. “Are you going to pick a husband for me?”

  “I may just do that.” She smiled at her sister.

  Michael leaned back in his seat. “Are you taking up matchmaking now?”

  She chuckled. “Clarabelle is my only local competition. I think I can do better than her.”

  He leaned close to her. “The old cow did right by me.”

  “I beg to differ. She never once mentioned your name.”

  “Do you know what?”

  “What?” she asked, intrigued by the light in his eyes.

  “I can’t wait to kiss you again.”

  Bethany felt the heat rush to her face. “I can’t wait for that myself, my husband.”

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, look for these other

  Amish stories by Patricia Davids:

  An Amish Harvest

  An Amish Noel

  His Amish Teacher

  Their Pretend Amish Courtship

  Amish Christmas Twins

  An Unexpected Amish Romance

  His New Amish Family

  Keep reading for an excerpt from His Amish Choice by Leigh Bale.

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  Dear Reader,

  This is the first book in my new Amish series set in Maine. I hope you have enjoyed the story. In case you haven’t noticed, I am a dog lover. The remarkable Sadie Sue was patterned after my own dog Sadie. Sadly she is no longer with us but we have wonderful memories of her happy personality and relentless drive to fetch the ball, fetch the ball.

  PTSD is a disorder that has been in the news a lot in recent years. Many of our soldiers are returning to civilian life crippled by this devastating disorder. More research is needed to combat this problem but therapy dogs have been shown to have a positive effect on the men and women who own them. I have limited knowledge of the disorder and this is not meant to be a tutorial on the subject. Any mistakes or incorrect assumptions are purely my own.

  Blessings to all,

  Patricia Davids

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  His Amish Choice

  by Leigh Bale

  Chapter One

  Elizabeth Beiler set her last crate of honeycrisp apples into the back of the buggy-wagon and took a deep breath. Picking the fruit was hard work but she could never get enough of its fresh, earthy-sweet smell.

  Brushing the dust off her rose-colored skirts and black apron, she adjusted the blue kerchief tied beneath her chin. Because she was working outside, she’d left her white organza kapp at home. She arched her back, her gaze scanning the rows of apple trees.

  Finally, they were finished. Not that Lizzie begrudged the work. It brought her a sense of accomplishment and security. She was just tired and feeling jittery with Eli Stoltzfus’s constant presence.

  At that moment, he emerged from the orchard, carrying two heavy crates of fruit in his strong arms. His blue chambray shirt stretched taut across his muscular chest and arms. His plain broadfall trousers and work boots had dust on them. Wearing a straw hat and black suspenders, he looked unmistakably Amish. His clean-shaven face attested that he was unmarried. Lizzie was dying to ask if he’d had any girlfriends during the four years he’d been living among the Englisch, but kept her questions to herself. It wasn’t her business after all. Not anymore.

  His high cheekbones and blunt chin gave him a slightly stubborn look. With hair black as a raven’s wing and gentle brown eyes, he was ruggedly handsome. Not that Lizzie also was interested. Not in this man. Not ever again.

  As he approached, she turned away, conscious of his quiet gaze following her. She often found him watching her, his intelligent eyes warning that there was an active, gifted mind hidden beneath his calm exterior.

  “Come on, Marty and Annie. It’s time to go home,” she called to her two sisters in Deitsch, the German dialect her Amish peo
ple used among themselves.

  The girls came running, the long ribbons on their prayer kapps dangling in the wind. At the ages of ten and seven, neither girl was big or strong, but they were sturdy and a tremendous help on the farm. Their happy chatter also alleviated Daed’s quiet moods. He hadn’t been the same since Mamm died almost five years earlier. The union of Lizzie’s parents had been one of love. The perfect kind of marriage she had once dreamed of having with Eli.

  “What are we having for nachtesse?” seven-year-old Annie asked, slightly breathless from her run.

  “Ja, I’m starved.” Marty was right behind her, biting into a crisp, juicy apple from the orchard.

  “I’m going to make slumgullion,” Lizzie said, thinking the meat and pasta dish was easy to make and very filling. “And we’ve also got leftover apple crisp from yesterday.”

  She was conscious of Eli adjusting the crates of apples in the back of their buggy-wagon, no doubt listening to their conversation. He must be ravenous too, but he would eat at home with his parents.

  “Yum! I’m so hungry I could eat Billie.” Annie leaned toward the bay gelding and made gobbling sounds. The gentle animal snorted and waved his head. Everyone except Marty laughed.

  “You couldn’t eat Billie. He’s a horse. Don’t be dumm,” Marty said.

  “No calling names, please. Be nice to your sister,” Lizzie reprimanded in a kind voice. “As soon as Daed gets here, we’ll go home.”

  They didn’t have long to wait. Jeremiah Beiler emerged from the orchard, walking with their Englisch truck driver. Daed’s straw hat was pushed back on his head. Sweat-dampened tendrils of salt-and-pepper hair stuck to his high forehead. Dressed almost identically to Eli, Daed’s long beard was a light reddish shade with no moustache, signifying that he was a married man, now a widower.

  The truck driver nodded, said something Lizzie couldn’t hear, then climbed into the cab of his tractor trailer and started up the noisy engine. A rush of relief swept over her. The back of the 18-wheeler was loaded with crates of apples from their orchard and the driver would deliver them safely to the processing plant in Longmont. Their harvest was secure.

  Because of Eli.

  As the truck pulled away, Daed turned and smiled at them, but frowned when his gaze met Eli’s. Lizzie knew her father didn’t approve of Eli. He feared the younger man’s worldly influence on his children and had hired him only at the bishop’s urging.

  “You all did gut work,” Jeremiah said.

  Eli gave a slight nod, then went to hitch his horse to his buggy. Lizzie watched him for a moment. Out of the blue, he had returned just over three weeks ago, asking to be reinstated in the Gmay, their Amish community.

  If he had been a full member of the church before his decision to live among the Englisch, his choice to leave them would have been seen as a breaking of his faith and he would have been shunned. But because he’d never been baptized into their faith, he’d been welcomed back with open arms, no questions asked. Just a blind acceptance that he really wanted to be here. But Lizzie wasn’t convinced. Eli had broken her heart. Leaving her the day before they were to be baptized together.

  When they’d been only fourteen, he’d proposed marriage and she’d accepted. But long before then, he’d whispered about attending college to learn more about science and biology. Their eighth-grade education had never been enough for Eli, yet she had thought he’d made peace with the life they had. The life they’d intended to share. Lizzie hadn’t believed he’d really leave. At least not without saying goodbye.

  Annie and Marty beamed at their father’s praise. They all felt a great weight lifted from their shoulders. The warm weather was an illusion. When they’d first settled in Colorado eight years earlier, they hadn’t realized the growing season was much shorter than their previous home in Ohio. A killing frost could strike at any time. With their apples picked, they could now turn their efforts to other pressing matters.

  To the south, the alfalfa was ready for cutting. The last of the season. They would store the hay in their barn to feed their own livestock through the long winter. Daed would mow it tomorrow. The weather should hold long enough for the hay to dry, then Lizzie would assist with the baling. Between now and then, she planned to bottle applesauce. They no longer needed Eli’s help and she wouldn’t have to see him every day. Though it wasn’t charitable of her, she counted that as a blessing.

  “Komm, my girls. Let’s go,” Daed called.

  Annie giggled as her father swung her into the buggy. Marty scrambled inside with Lizzie. Daed gathered the leather leads into his hands and slapped them against Billie’s back, giving a stiff nod of parting to Eli.

  “Sehn dich schpeeder,” Eli called as he lifted one hand.

  See you later? Lizzie hoped not, then felt guilty for being mean-spirited. The little girls waved goodbye, but not Lizzie. It still hurt her deeply to think that Eli had loved worldly pursuits more than he’d loved their faith and Gott. More than he’d loved her.

  “Heemet!” Daed called.

  Home! With a cozy barn and hay awaiting him, Billie had plenty of incentive to take off at a brisk walk. The buggy-wagon wobbled as they traveled along the narrow dirt road leading out of the orchard.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Lizzie noticed that Eli had his horse hitched up to his buggy and wasn’t far behind them.

  When they reached the paved county road, Daed pulled the horse up and looked both ways. A couple of cars whizzed past, spraying them through their open windows with a fine mist of grit. Once it was clear, he proceeded forward, setting the horse into a comfortable trot along the far-right shoulder. Within minutes, they would be home. Marty and Annie leaned against Lizzie and yawned. The gentle rocking of the buggy and the rhythmic beat of hooves lulled Lizzie to close her eyes.

  She awoke with a start as the buggy-wagon jerked forward. A sickening crash filled her ears. Apples went flying, peppering the road. Lizzie reached for Marty, but found herself airborne. Bloodcurdling screams split the air. The hard ground slammed up to meet her. Pain burst through her entire body, a lance of agony spearing her head. She cried out, then choked, the air knocked from her lungs. Her brain was spinning, her limbs frozen with stinging shock. One thought filled her mind. Her familye! She had to help them.

  Lifting her head, she stared at the remnants of the wood and fiberglass buggy-wagon, strewn across the county road. The fluorescent slow-moving-vehicle symbol that had been affixed to the back of their wagon now lay broken beside her. In a glance, she saw a blue sedan parked nearby, the right front fender smashed in. She blinked as a teenage boy got out of the car, his eyes wide with panic. In his hand, he held his cell phone. Had he been texting while driving?

  Lying below Lizzie in the ditch, Billie snorted and thrashed in his harness. Giving a shrill whinny, the horse lunged to his feet, the laces hanging limp from his back. The poor beast. At least he didn’t appear to have a broken leg.

  Lizzie wiped moisture from her forehead, then gasped when she discovered it was blood. She scanned the road, looking for Daed and her sisters. From her vantage point, she couldn’t see any of them. Her vision swam before her. She couldn’t focus. Falling back, she lay there for a moment, trying to fight off the woozy darkness, but despite her best efforts, it crowded in on her.

  When she came to, Lizzie realized she must have fainted. She had no idea how long she’d been out. A rush of memory made her jerk upright, then cry out with anguish. Her entire body hurt, a searing pain in her head. She must get up. Must find her father, Annie and Marty.

  “Schtopp! Just rest.” A soft, masculine voice came from above her.

  Blinking her eyes, she saw Eli kneeling over her. In a glance, she took in his somber expression filled with concern. He must have come upon them right after the crash.

  “Vie gehts?” he asked in a soothing tone roughened by emotion.

  “Ja, I’
m fine. Marty and Annie. Daed. Help them,” she said.

  “They’re all alive. The Englischer has called for help on his cell phone. An ambulance is coming from the hospital in town,” he said.

  “Where...where is my familye?” She sat up slowly to look for them, her head whirling from another dizzy spell.

  “I didn’t want the girls to see you until I was certain you were all right. They’re very frightened as it is. I’ll bring them to you now.” He stood, looked both ways, then hurried across the road.

  He soon returned, holding the hands of her sisters as he crossed the busy road. He hesitated as a car and truck whipped past, swerving to avoid the debris scattered across the asphalt. One of the vehicles stopped and asked if they needed help. The Englisch boy went to speak with the driver.

  “Lizzie!” Annie cried.

  Both little girls fell into her arms, sobbing and hugging her tight. Cupping their faces with her hands, she looked them over, kissing their scratched cheeks, assuring herself that they were safe. Their faces and arms were covered with abrasions, their dresses soiled, but they otherwise seemed fine.

  “There, my liebchen. All will be well,” Lizzie soothed the girls for a moment. Then, she looked at Eli. “But where is my vadder?”

  “He cannot be moved just now. He has a serious compound fracture to his lower left leg. I believe his tibia is all that is broken. I have splinted the leg and stopped the bleeding, then wrapped him in a warm blanket I had in my buggy.”

  A broken leg! But how did Eli know what to do? A blaze of panic scorched her. They’d already lost Mamm. What would they do if they lost Daed too?

  “I must go to him.” She tried to stand.

  “Ne, just sit still a moment. There’s too much traffic on the road and you are also hurt. I believe you have a concussion.” Eli held out a hand to stop her.

  Lizzie recoiled, fearing he might touch her. How could he know she had a concussion? He wasn’t a doctor. Or was he? She no longer knew much about this man. Was four years long enough for him to go to medical school? She had no knowledge of such things.