Their Surprise Amish Marriage

by Jocelyn McClay

  Lifting his head, he stared at Rachel, whose white face was surely a reflection of his. “You’re sure?”

  Avoiding his gaze, she bobbed her head once. “Ja.” The whisper drifted to him across the feet separating them.

  Inhaling sharply, Ben straightened from the tree. He stepped toward Rachel, only to halt abruptly at a call from behind him.

  “There you are! Here’s your hot chocolate. Although hot probably won’t describe it any longer.”

  Ben pivoted to see Lydia descending upon them, a smile on her lips while her hooded eyes shifted rapidly between him and Rachel. The hand he’d been extending toward Rachel reluctantly moved to accept the unwanted cup of chocolate. Not knowing what else to do, Ben concentrated on keeping his tremors under control so the dark brown contents didn’t splatter over the snow as he carefully brought the cup to his lips and took a sip.

  “Denki,” he choked out as some of the lukewarm liquid went down the wrong tube in his tight throat. Thanks was not what he wanted to tell Lydia. Ben’s gaze swept over the woman he longed to talk with—needed to talk with—then returned to the one he needed to sidetrack from her. Stepping between the two females, he reluctantly gave his physical attention to the one, while his awareness and emotions were fixed on the other.

  The sound of Rachel’s deep sigh reverberated through him. It was followed a moment later by the crunch of the snow as she walked away. It took all his willpower not to look in her direction as he headed back toward the gathering by the sled, Lydia walking close enough beside him for her arm to brush his elbow. Her dangling hand bumped against his own. Shifting the cup to that hand, Ben lifted it out of range.

  “Thanks again for the chocolate. It’s just what I needed before the drive home.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want company?”

  Ach, he surely did. Just not hers. “I’m gut. Got a few more things to take care of this evening than I expected.” Like dealing with the concept of becoming a father. Ben stumbled at the realization, the hot chocolate arcing out in front of them to drop like a dark rain onto the snow.

  To his chagrin, Lydia used the excuse to latch on to his arm. “Are you all right?”

  Nee. He was far from all right. He’d betrayed his brother. He’d put himself and a friend he’d always cared for—even loved?—in a precarious situation. Ben’s feet continued to move of their own accord while the arm Lydia hung from was as stiff as the oak tree he’d recently leaned against.

  Rachel was going to have a baby. Ben’s heart began to race. They needed to get married. His heart rate picked up even faster. Marrying Rachel had been his dream for years. The breathless smile that lifted the corners of his mouth froze. But what about when Aaron comes back? Ben had reluctantly watched the relationship between his brother and the girl he loved develop from the time she’d started her rumspringa at sixteen. Aaron Raber and Rachel Mast. Amish courtships were usually kept secret but the knowledge of those two together was so ingrained in their Plain community in the past four years, it was like saying salt and pepper.

  What if Rachel wouldn’t marry him? What if Aaron came back to wed Rachel and he had to watch his brother raise his child? Ben’s steps slowed. The plastic cup crumpled in his suddenly tightened fist, the remainder of the cold chocolate dribbled from his hand. At his shoulder, Lydia glanced at him with a furrowed brow.

  Ben shook his head, warding off her questions. “Ach, just a lot of things to do tonight. Much more than I expected,” he murmured. Much, much more.

  Lydia nodded, patting his coat-covered arm with one of her hands that encircled it. “I suppose Aaron’s departure has prompted some changes.”

  Ben’s breath whistled out through clenched teeth.

  He couldn’t agree more.

  * * *

  Even though the temperature had dropped with the setting sun, firmly lodging itself below freezing, Ben’s gloveless hands were sweating. He wiped them down the sides of his pants as he walked up the sidewalk to the Masts’ front porch.

  He’d known Susannah Mast for years. He’d always respected Rachel’s mamm. She’d witnessed and laughingly forgiven him for many youthful transgressions when he’d played as a youngster in a group with her daughters. Ben’s ears burned. She wouldn’t be laughing about this one. Swallowing hard, he mounted the stairs and crossed the porch. He took another deep breath before he could rap his knuckles on the door.

  The dim glow of an interior lamp shone through a window, advising folks were home. Still, Ben flinched, conscious of the last words they’d spoken, when the door opened to reveal Rachel. The solemn expression on her lovely face told Ben he’d been expected. But was his presence welcomed? He’d soon find out.

  Thoughts of how to handle the unsettling situation had overwhelmed Ben as he helped his father—who was surprised with his unexpected appearance—with chores. As he’d flung bales of hay to the cattle, Ben had practiced proposing to them. None had accepted. He was afraid he’d get the same response from Rachel.

  But he had to try. Marrying her had been his dream. But not like this. Not in a situation that was surely a nightmare to her.

  Rachel stepped back, opening the door farther to allow him entrance. Ben swept off his knitted winter cap, wondering if he should’ve worn his black felt hat for the occasion. What was the proper protocol for proposing to his brother’s girlfriend? Ben stifled a snort. There surely wasn’t anything related to the topic in the district’s Ordnung. He bit the inside of his cheek at the thought of the community’s set of rules they’d obviously disobeyed. A confession—perhaps, even probably a public one—was required of both of them. Ben’s stomach churned at the thought.

  Susannah looked up from where she stood at the sink washing milking gear and smiled. Along with keeping bees, the Masts milked some goats that Susannah and her family used to make soaps and other items to sell.

  “Ben, how nice to see you. Do you think we’ll have a good year of sugaring? I asked Rachel, but she hasn’t said much about the day.”

  “Ja. Sap seems to be running pretty gut.”

  Susannah shook water from her hands and reached for a dish towel. “What brings you over this evening?”

  Ben wadded the knit cap in his fist. “I... I was wondering if Rachel would like to go for a drive.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Susannah looked from him to her silent daughter and back again.

  “I’ll grab a blanket and my cloak.”

  Ben’s tense shoulders dipped in relief at Rachel’s words. He couldn’t tear his eyes from her as she hastened to collect the items from the room. She was with child. Did she look different? His gaze lingered on her face. There was no evidence of the animation that normally lit her eyes. Her eyes looked tired. She looked tired.

  He was aware that under her furrowed brow, Susannah’s thoughtful gaze followed them out the door.

  “Does she know?” Ben’s voice was quiet as he trailed Rachel down the porch steps.

  “Nee.” Her words and a waft of condensation drifted over her shoulder. “No one knows but you.”

  Ben sighed as he watched her black-cloaked figure precede him through the yard’s gate. Folks might not know now, but with Rachel’s slender form, it wouldn’t be long before they would. He stopped to free his mare, Sojourner, from the hitching post. Ben’s tongue felt as tied as the knot he fumbled with. He wasn’t good with words. Would he find enough appropriate ones to convince Rachel to marry him?

  The prospect wasn’t looking good when he climbed into the buggy to see Rachel sitting so far on the opposite side she was in danger of falling off the seat. The blanket she’d brought was piled between them like an instant mountain. Backing his horse away from the post, Ben studied his passenger’s profile. He didn’t speak until they pulled out of the lane and onto the country road. His pounding heart greatly exceeded the steady clip-clop of Sojy’s slow jog.

  �
��Denki for coming out. And for...telling me.”

  Her soft sigh carried to him on the quiet night. “I had to. Much better sooner than later.”

  “No word from...?”

  Rachel shook her head before her chin dipped to rest against her chest.

  Ben’s fingers flexed on the leather reins. “I know I’m not the one you wanted, but, since you’re having a boppeli... I’ll marry you.” He cringed as he heard the words fall out of his mouth. He’d done better proposing to the cattle. Another deep sigh from Rachel. Ben counted sixty-seven beats of Sojourner’s hooves before she spoke.

  “I’d like to make our confession to John Stoltzfus.”

  At least it wasn’t an outright no to his question. It was a better outcome than he might have hoped, given the way he’d bungled it.

  “Sounds gut. When?”

  “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to get it over with.”

  Ben nodded. When they reached the intersection, he turned the mare in the direction of the Stoltzfus dairy farm. “How are you feeling?”

  Rachel turned to him with a weak half smile. “I’ve been better.”

  What did that mean? Had she been sick? Years ago, Ben might have coaxed her to expand upon her short answer. But that was before she and Aaron became a couple. When their relationship became apparent while other Amish courtships were usually kept under wraps, Ben’s comments when he was with them had dwindled. The pair seemed to have so much to say to each other that, when they were all together, his contributions to the conversation weren’t needed. Even the evening after Aaron’s disappearance, he hadn’t said much. He’d just wanted to be there to offer Rachel support. But while he may not have said much, he’d unfortunately done plenty. Ben’s head sunk lower as he hunched his shoulders. Apparently, the less he said and did the better.

  Twenty minutes later, and with fewer words than that spoken between them, he turned Sojourner into the Stoltzfuses’ lane. Upon drawing to a stop, Ben descended and hurried around the buggy to assist Rachel down. How much help did a woman six weeks with child require anyway? He didn’t recall any of the times his mamm had been with child. He had younger siblings, but he’d been pretty young as well when they were born. If the Amish kept courtships under wraps, they definitely didn’t speak of pregnancies. Ben flushed at his ignorance. Things would seem normal, then there’d be some excitement and female company, and the next day there’d be a boppeli. He didn’t know anything about being a husband to a woman with child. That knowledge, or lack of, had him breaking a sweat.

  By the time he reached Rachel’s side of the buggy, she was on the ground, twisting her hands together. “Do you think they’ll put us under the Bann?”

  “I don’t know. In past situations, if they have, it hasn’t been for long. We might be out for a Sunday or two.”

  At Rachel’s anxious expression, Ben hastened to assure her, “I think you made a wise suggestion in choosing to confess to John Stoltzfus. I’d rather face him than Bishop Weaver or another minister.”

  “He was a friend of my daed’s. I thought he might be more...sympathetic.” She grimaced. “But he might be more disappointed, as well.”

  Ben winced. The minister would be one of many in the community. “Well, we’re here now.”

  Glancing about the surrounding farmyard in the early dusk of the February day, Ben’s attention sharpened on the dim glow visible through the windows of the large barn. With his help, their farm’s chores had been early, but the Rabers didn’t have as many cows as the Stoltzfuses did. “Looks like he might be in the barn. I don’t know what time he normally milks. Shall we go see?”

  When he returned his gaze to Rachel, Ben bit his lip at the forlorn figure she made. Knowing how he felt, and that she felt the same or worse, he strove to provide whatever support he could, extending a hand toward her. Glancing at it, Rachel frowned before looking toward the barn and crossing her arms. With a deep sigh, Ben let his hand drop.

  * * *

  Rachel longed to take Ben’s hand. But not if it would lead her into the barn. On top of being anxious and physically miserable, she felt so stupid. What kind of Amish girl was afraid of cows?

  Ach, this one was. When she was a little girl, she’d been so excited to see a newborn calf she’d rushed into the pen and gotten too close to the new mama and her baby. The protective cow had knocked Rachel down, stepping on her several times in the process. Rachel had been terrified of cattle ever since, particularly Holsteins, one of the larger of the dairy breeds. Fortunately for her, unrelated to her harrowing adventure, her folks had traded out the cow for some goats shortly afterward. She hadn’t been around cattle since, which was more than fine with her.

  “Hello?” The call came from the house, where Mrs. Stoltzfus had stepped onto the porch to investigate the new arrival.

  Returning her wave, Ben quietly asked, “Do you want to wait in the house?”

  Rachel gave him a heartfelt smile. “Ja. Denki.” The weight of his gaze followed her as she made her way across the ruts of the yard, where slush was refreezing after the warmth of the day. Mary Stoltzfus ushered her inside. The minister’s wife obviously had other folks drop in to see her husband and thankfully didn’t ask any questions. She and Rachel chatted about community events until the door opened and the men stepped inside. Although Ben met her gaze with an encouraging smile, any ease Rachel had developed with Mary’s comfortable conversation evaporated at their arrival.

  After getting her husband a cup of tea, Mrs. Stoltzfus made herself scarce. Rachel tipped up one side of her mouth at the unmistakable scent of cows wafting from the older dairyman. The odor didn’t bother her at all. It was just the animal itself that scared her witless.

  Settling into his chair, John Stoltzfus wore a smile on the weathered face above his graying beard. “Benjamin said you wanted to speak with me?”

  Rachel had always liked her daed’s friend. The two had been ministers together in the district, up until Vernon Mast passed away. From John Stoltzfus’s curious expression, he wasn’t sure why they were there, but looked hopeful that it was for some positive occasion.

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, although she supposed weddings in the Amish community were always considered a positive event. But was she going to marry Ben? Rachel hugged her arms to her chest. She hadn’t answered him, and in his Ben-like manner, he hadn’t pushed her. This wasn’t his fault. She’d felt jilted, abandoned, deserted when his brother had left. Aaron had become so much of her identity. What was she without him? The night he’d left, she’d reached out for comfort, some type of affirmation, and Ben had provided it. He was a gut man and didn’t deserve this situation.

  Still, she didn’t know how to answer her daed’s old friend. Clearing her throat, Rachel sent a beseeching glance to where Ben sat motionless in a nearby rocker. She saw his hands tightened on the ends of the chair’s wooden armrests before he shifted and straightened in the seat.

  “Um...ja. We need to make a...confession.”

  “A confession?” Mr. Stoltzfus frowned. Brow furrowed, he considered them both, his gaze darted back and forth between her and Ben before his face drooped into sorrowful lines. “Ach. I’m sorry to hear of the need. Best tell me though.”

  Haltingly, she and Ben separately confessed to their sins, Rachel reddening as much during Ben’s confession as she had during her own. To her surprise, Ben was adamant that he was the instigator of the regretful situation. She slid a glance at him from below lowered eyelids, knowing it wasn’t true. Still, she appreciated his actions. That was Ben, always stepping up to take care of things.

  “And do you repent? Are you sorry for your sins and seek forgiveness?”

  “Most assuredly.” Their fervent responses were in unison.

  “That’s gut. And now, are you getting married?” The minister pinned Ben with a gaze as pointed as the tines of a pitchfork.
<
br />   “I...uh...” Rachel saw Ben’s throat bob as he swallowed. “I’ve asked. That will be Rachel’s decision.”

  “And are you getting married?” Now John Stoltzfus’s intent yet sympathetic eyes focused on Rachel. It was the sympathy from her daed’s friend that did her in. That and the hopeful look on Ben’s face before he quickly controlled his expression. He was the father of the child she carried. She should be married to the child’s father. And she knew Ben. He would make a good daed and husband. But could she make a gut wife for him? When she’d always love another man? A man who was his own brother?

  Rachel flinched when the clock struck the hour, the sound overly loud in the silent room. Time was something she didn’t have. She longed to wait on the decision, as marriage was for life. What if Aaron came back? But would he even marry her, knowing she carried his brother’s child? The threat of nausea had her throat bobbing in a hard swallow. Flicking a piece of lint off her skirt, she shifted her hand subtly to rest against her stomach. She glanced across the room to the baby’s father. Ben met and held her gaze. Again, so like him. Ben Raber would always be steady and true. Rachel drew in a deep breath, knowing whatever she might feel she needed to be fair to the two lives now connected to hers.

  “Ja,” she exhaled. “Ja. We’re getting married.”

  Both the men in the room sighed, as well. Ben’s was accompanied by eyes that drifted closed.

  John Stoltzfus thoughtfully rubbed his hands together. “A sin confessed is a sin forgiven. As you’ve freely confessed and asked forgiveness of your sins, I don’t see a need for this to go any further. The situation will obviously—” he grunted uncomfortably “—impact your wedding plans.”