Their Surprise Amish Marriage

by Jocelyn McClay

  “I know I’m not the one you want to hear it from. I shouldn’t say it. But I can’t hold the words back. You’re beautiful. I don’t understand why Gott saw fit to make you mine. But I’m so thankful He did. And I’ll do everything in my power that someday, hopefully, you’ll be thankful, as well.”

  He froze as she murmured something and shifted to her side. When she resettled, he placed one last kiss on the coiled length of her hair and quietly left the room.

  Chapter Ten

  Ben leaned the bag of feed against the wall, grabbed the tab at the top and jerked it open with a resulting brr sound as the heavy thread ripped loose from the reinforced paper. As he poured the brown pellets into two pails, his thoughts were far away from his task.

  His earliest memories regarding chores on the farm had been of tailing after his older bruder. Aaron had been the one to show him how to carefully maneuver about in the corn bin. He’d been the one to show him how to harness their pony. Aaron had taught him how to tie his first boots when it’d gotten too cold in the fall to go barefoot. How to put a worm on a hook, how to take a fish off and how to get one on in between. Ben had been two steps behind the older bruder he’d adored all the time when they were young. Their folks had even commented on it, joking, Gut thing we named them with the first letters of A and B, as Benjamin’s always following Aaron.

  Unhooking the barn door, Ben slipped through carrying the first two pails of corn he’d filled earlier. “Hey, back off,” he admonished the numerous black-and-white heads crowding around him. “You’ll all be fed soon if you’re just a little patient. Just let me get through.” Bumping the buckets against some noses that got a little too close, he made his way through the restless steers to the feed bunks. Ben grimaced as he noted the end bunk he’d destroyed weeks earlier to save the steer. I need to get that fixed. Always something to do, particularly with livestock. Pouring the two buckets in a long line down one of the other two bunks, he hurried back to the barn for two more pails of corn. The cattle, except for a few, were jostling for position at the first bunk, freeing his path to the second.

  He glanced over to where Rachel was working in the garden. Although breakfast had been more leisurely this morning as he didn’t have to go to town for work, they still hadn’t talked much. She’d been charmingly disconcerted and apologetic about falling asleep before supper last night. And about finding the kitchen cleaned up when she’d awakened this morning.

  Enjoying her rosy cheeks, he’d assured her it was fine. And it had been. More than fine. He’d treasure those quiet moments for some time, never knowing when he’d have a chance to store up more.

  Emptying the buckets, Ben returned to the barn, his gaze still on Rachel in the garden. The first time he’d wondered about gardening was when his grossmammi had called him and Aaron two peas in a pod. That’s the way they’d remained growing up. At home, at church, at school, where Ben had expressed little interest because he was shy and much more intrigued with any other aspects of life. But anything Aaron could do—except for schoolwork—Ben strove to emulate his hero older brother.

  For sure and certain, they’d been competitive. They’d played baseball on opposite teams, raced horses, competed eating the most pancakes and throwing hay bales the farthest. But he and Aaron had been best friends, even though his older bruder seemed to always have been a little better, a little faster, a little smarter.

  Until Aaron entered his rumspringa.

  Then everything changed. Ben was left behind as Aaron’s close friends became the ones he met at the parties he was either attending or continuously talking about. With those, and other Englisch pursuits as his main interests, he was frequently distracted from his work on the farm. Then it was Ben that came along, finishing up tasks or correcting errors so Aaron didn’t get into trouble when he’d head out early to meet up with guys driving cars to parties. A cell phone and charger were tucked into the dresser the two shared, along with magazines on mechanics and Englisch blue jeans. Aaron no longer sported a bowl cut, his hair was now trimmed shorter under a ball cap instead of a straw or felt hat.

  The only Amish thing Aaron seemed to enjoy was courting Rachel. When Ben finally entered his rumspringa, his bruder had already paired off with the girl he’d always admired. Although he was glad to spend time with his Amish friends, the only reason Ben had gone to singings and youngie parties was to see Rachel. And torture himself that she was now with Aaron.

  Nudging the barn door open with his shoulder, Ben carried out the two pails of pellets. He’d been shocked Aaron had left Rachel. But even though they’d taken baptism classes together, although he’d been disappointed and heartsick at Aaron’s disappearance, Ben wasn’t really that surprised his bruder had left for the Englisch life he’d seemed so fascinated with. As Ben climbed into the first bunk to walk between the cattle’s broad heads and sprinkle the pellets on top of the rapidly disappearing corn, he wondered what Aaron would’ve come up with to delay baptism into the church if he hadn’t been kicked by the horse and broken his arm that Sunday morning. Aaron had left without being baptized. He could therefore return to the community without severe consequences. Had that been his plan all along? If he’d left after having been baptized, he’d have been shunned if he came back. The fact that he hadn’t been baptized left the door open for a return. The now empty pails banging against his legs, Ben glanced again at his wife’s profile as he climbed down from the bunk.

  Ach, maybe Aaron’s consequences of departure, if he planned to return, had been rather severe after all.

  * * *

  Rachel straightened and arched her back before resting a hand on the underside of her burgeoning middle. As this was mid-July and the midwife had mentioned early October, she couldn’t imagine how she’d be able to work closer to when the boppeli would arrive. While she was still wrapping her mind around the thought of two, her body well knew the burden she carried.

  Heaving a sigh, she considered the wall of vines climbing up the woven wire ahead. She appreciated Ben’s idea of the fence for the cucumbers more than he’d know. Gathering her apron into a basket, she dropped the summer squash into it and trudged toward the end of the garden, curling her bare toes into the sun-warmed tilled earth. Rachel relished in the sensation, but when she recognized the beginning of a waddle in her gait, she winced.

  Her face warmed as she recalled that she’d slept while Ben had taken care of her and the supper chores. Although she appreciated his constant solicitousness, it always seemed directed toward her as a woman with child. Ach, Rachel sighed, it would be hard to see a woman who walked like a duck as anything but that at the moment.

  She wanted to be seen as a woman who was attractive to her husband. But it understandably would be hard for him to see her that way when the whole of their marriage, she’d been a swirling mess of emotions and physical changes. Surely a man didn’t find his wife attractive when she was red-eyed with weeping, or wearing a deathly pallor as she raced for the bathroom. Or looking like she’d swallowed a watermelon whole instead of tending to its vines.

  At least with Aaron, she’d known where she stood. Like her daed, he’d praised her in one way or another. As the oldest of a growing family who strove to do everything right to gain her busy parents’ attention, she’d craved affirmation. Although not proud of the need, Rachel recognized that praise had made her feel less invisible.

  She blinked in the morning sun. Was that what prompted her to fall for Aaron? Certainly, he was very handsome, but really, when she thought about it, no more so than Benjamin. Had she been enamored by the way he automatically filled her subconscious need for validation with his flowery compliments?

  Rachel considered the wall of green interspersed with pale yellow blossoms in front of her. She wished she knew where she stood with Ben. Besides just as a responsibility. She wished she knew if her husband found her attractive. Because she did find him attractive. Rachel blushed at the a
cknowledgment. She might want words, but Ben’s continual practice of doing things for her was starting to grow on her. Maybe her mamm was right. Words were sweet, but they didn’t get things done. There were definitely many things that needed doing around a farmstead. To her surprise, she’d found doing those things brought a feeling of partnership to a couple. One more deeply rooted than one based on flowery words?

  She certainly didn’t feel invisible with Ben. She felt...cosseted. Was that because of responsibility to the mother of his children? Or because he cared for her as herself?

  Rachel plucked a robust green cucumber at waist-height from a vine. Maybe she should tell Ben how much she appreciated his thoughtfulness. Things had been better between them lately. Weeks ago, he’d apologized about not trusting her. She’d understood. Given the situation, she’d have wondered the same thing.

  She sighed. The rare kind word from Ben meant so much to her. Even though he never said anything, it probably worked in reverse. Her lips twitched. Was this part of the work in marriage her mother had referred to?

  Adding the cucumber to her apron, she glanced over to where Ben was feeding the cattle. Rachel had to admit, he was certainly putting in the effort. He was always doing thoughtful things for her. If they were sitting at the table and she’d forgotten to put the butter on, before she could shift in her chair, he was up like a jack-in-the-box and rushing to the cupboard. When he was home, she couldn’t climb into the buggy without his steadying hand under her arm, whether she needed it or not. When he wasn’t home, and he found out she’d gone out, harnessing her horse by herself, he’d narrow his eyes in dismay. The next time she went to the barn, the harness was hung with lower pegs on the wall, making it easier to reach. He’d even mentioned getting a pony and cart for her to get around, reasoning that the babies would need one at some point anyway.

  Snorting, Rachel worked her way down the fence to where she spied another cucumber hiding amongst the green leaves. How did he expect her to get around when he wasn’t here if she didn’t harness the horse and hook up the buggy? The babies hadn’t affected her arms and legs. Although—she shifted at a twinge in her hips—they definitely were affecting other things. Still, it was sweet of him to be so attentive.

  She should tell him. He wouldn’t say anything, but his blue eyes might soften and his lips might lift in that endearing half smile she was beginning to watch for. A smile on her own lips, Rachel glanced again toward the cattle pen, where she could see Ben from the hip up as he walked along inside in the bunks, pouring something from the buckets he carried.

  The cattle were jostling each other to get close to the feed. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed they were steering clear of the big bull, Billy. Through the rails of the fence, she could see slices of his large black profile. The bull’s massive head was lowered. One cloven hoof was digging into the dirt, throwing clods of it over his shoulder.

  Rachel’s breath caught in her throat as she turned to fully face the pen. A rrumph, rrumph bellow rumbled to her through the quiet summer morning. Open-mouthed, Rachel’s horrified gaze swiveled to where Ben had just climbed down from the last bunk and turned toward the barn, the empty pails swinging from his hands.

  Frozen, Rachel watched the bull sprint across the pen. She willed herself to shout a warning, but no sound escaped her throat.

  But something had alerted Ben. Turning at the last moment, he threw the pails toward the charging bull, giving him a second to try to dodge from its path. With a toss of Billy’s colossal head, the pails went flying over his broad back. He struck Ben a second later.

  Ben’s hat sailed in one direction while he went flying in another. When he disappeared from her view, Rachel found her voice. She screamed so harshly, her throat was instantly raw. Rooted there in the garden, she kept screaming. Numb fingers dropped her apron. Vegetables scattered around her as she raised her hands to cup her face and scream, her horrified gaze locked on the pen. Through the space between the two lower boards of the fence, she saw a glimpse of Ben. He was belly-crawling toward the bunks along the side of the pen. Black-and-white legs milled around him as the steers tried to scatter from the wheeling bull.

  Rachel’s heartbeat pounded in her ears when she caught a flash of Ben’s blue pants as he struggled to roll under the bunks amidst the churning feet. She shrieked anew when the bull slammed into the bunk. Unfazed, the huge Holstein rammed it again with his head. The sharp crack of splintering wood cut through the air.

  A black blur flew into her peripheral vision. Gasping through her burning throat at the fear it might be one of the other bulls, Rachel swiveled in its direction. Gravel flew as their neighbor’s rig raced up the lane. Jethro Weaver launched himself from the buggy while it was still rolling. Yelling at the top of his lungs, he sprinted toward the fence. Whipping off his flat-brimmed hat, he threw it at Billy. With an ominous bellow, the animal turned in his direction. Jethro scrambled up the fence, continuing to yell at the big Holstein. Snagging a heavy stick leaning against a post, Jethro waved it at the bull. Shaking his massive head, Billy snorted. A few tense moments later, he lunged toward the shouting man. Keeping up his verbal onslaught, Jethro held his ground. With a final bawl, the bull veered off and trotted hostilely to the center of the pen.

  Keeping his eye on the agitated animal, Jethro called over his shoulder. “Rachel! Rachel, can you hear m-me?”

  “Ja.” Rachel’s mouth formed the word but she was voiceless. She’d screamed herself to hoarseness. Struggling to find enough saliva to swallow, she tried again, wincing at the pain in her throat as she got sound out. “Ja.”

  “Can you get in m-my rig? You need to ride d-down t-to the phone shack and call 911.” Attention still on the pen in front of him, Jethro was slowly moving his way down the fence toward the bunks.

  Only knowing the need for urgency kept Rachel from collapsing into the tilled earth of the garden. Bracing an arm under her stomach, she ran for the untethered buggy. The horse, in its confusion, had headed for the barn. Flinching at the rough gravel under her bare feet, Rachel raced across the driveway toward it. She barely had breath for words as she clambered up the buggy steps. “Is he...?”

  “Hurry, Rachel!”

  Jethro’s tone didn’t invite further questions. Seizing the dangling reins, Rachel wheeled the buggy. She gasped as, from her perch, she spied Ben’s motionless figure sprawled under a bunk. With a slap of the reins, the horse lurched down the lane. Careening onto the road, they raced the mile to the nearest phone shack.

  Tumbling out of the buggy, Rachel barely caught herself when her feet hit the ground. She hadn’t allowed herself to think during the frantic drive, just kept urging Jethro’s Standardbred faster. She didn’t stop to tie him. The horse’s head was lowered as he panted for air, his bay coat flecked with lather.

  Throwing open the shack’s door with a bang, she stumbled inside. Her fingers trembled as she punched the emergency number. With an equally shaky voice, she relayed what she knew of the situation to the calm dispatcher.

  Following the call, it took Rachel two attempts to get the handset back into its cradle. Once it rattled into place, she sagged against the bare wood wall of the shack. She’d told them what she knew, but what she didn’t know was the status of her husband. Or if she still had one. They might rush out to find it was too late. She might be too late. Oh, Ben, please let me have a chance to tell you how wunderbar a husband you’ve been, and what a wunderbar father I know you’ll be. Cradling her rounded belly, Rachel slid the rest of the way to the linoleum-covered floor.

  Was he still alive? Please, please, Gott, let it be so. Tears flowed down her cheeks to drip onto her collarless dress. Her eyes squeezed tight at the memory of the shock, followed by wonder and joy in his face when he’d heard they were going to be parents of twins. Wonder and joy she’d shared. Quiet, endless support she’d known he’d give. Please, Gott...

  The steady clip-clop of hoov
es gained in volume as someone passed by on the road. Sniffing, Rachel wiped her face on the sleeve of her dress and pushed to her feet. She wasn’t doing any good here. Jethro might need her help. Ben—if he was alive—would need her. On shaky legs, she exited the phone shack. Jethro’s horse, head up but still blowing slightly, eyed her warily.

  “It’s okay,” she murmured, patting his sweaty side as she hurried past to the buggy. Please, Gott, let it be okay. Climbing onto the seat, she swung back onto the road. At a slightly less frantic speed, she drove back toward the farm.

  The wail of a siren came up behind her. Rachel closed her eyes with a sigh of relief. Guiding the horse to the edge of the road, she pressed her lips together to keep from crying anew as a truck with a blue light flashing on its dash raced by. Recognizing Gabe Bartel’s vehicle, she urged the horse to a faster speed. Turning into the lane, she slumped on the seat at the sight of Billy grazing placidly in the pasture with the steers. Somehow, Jethro had gotten him out of the pen. At least now they could safely reach Benjamin. But what would they find when they did?

  Even burdened with the bags he carried, Gabe was scurrying up the rails of the fence when she drew the horse to a stop. Jethro waved him to where he stood by the bunk. Setting the buggy’s brake, Rachel dropped the reins and scrambled down from the seat. Pressing a palm to the hitch in her side, she hurried over to where the bunks lined the fence. Kneeling, she peered between the first and second rails to see underneath the weatherworn wood of the feed bunks.

  Ben lay motionless. His head was turned away from her.

  “Is he...” She drew in a ragged breath, unable to finish.

  At her voice, Ben groaned and slowly swiveled his face toward her. Rachel’s heart ached as he obviously tried to give her a smile, any hint of dimple hidden in the smeared dirt on his cheek. She burst into tears at seeing him alive.