Their Surprise Amish Marriage

by Jocelyn McClay

  Shuffling down the counter, Ben leaned to grab the stool’s seat and immediately froze in place as his torso complained. Loudly. Resting his hands on the counter, he panted as he hooked a leg of the stool with the foot that had the bum ankle and tried to tug it toward him. He was glad Rachel wasn’t in the house to hear the squeak he emitted at the flash of white-hot pain. Grimacing, he reevaluated the situation.

  Working his way back down the counter, he snagged a large bowl from the dish drainer, along with a smaller one. Setting them on the counter in front of the stool, Ben limped back to the pail. Elbows protectively tight against his chest, teeth gritted in preparation of rogue pain spikes, he used both hands to carefully tip the bucket so green beans spilled over the counter toward the bowls. As he returned to the stool, Ben swiped more beans in that direction. With a sigh, he eased himself onto the stool and went to work, the snap, snap, snap of fresh green beans echoed about the otherwise empty kitchen while he watched his expectant wife work in the garden.

  * * *

  That was where Rachel found him when, hot, sweaty and with her back and hips aching more than she wanted to admit, she entered the kitchen. Her gaze shifted in amazement from the bowls and bowls of evenly snapped beans to the empty bucket sitting on the floor next to the door.

  She slumped a hip against the doorjamb. “How?”

  Ben rubbed his fingers together. “Billy didn’t get ahold of these.” He pointed farther down the countertop. “I saw you heading this way. There’s a glass of lemonade for you by the refrigerator.” Eyes on her face, he frowned. “You’re flushed. You need to sit down.”

  Rachel nodded toward the sink, where the lunch dishes were now stacked haphazardly in the drainer. “What about you?”

  “I’ve been sitting. And sitting. And sitting.” Quickly masking a grimace, Ben levered off the chair. “So why don’t you sit for a minute with your drink. I don’t promise that it’ll be much more than just edible, but I’ll find us something to eat for supper.” He grinned, his dimples making a brief appearance. “It just won’t be green beans. I’m tired of looking at them.”

  Rachel picked up the glass before gratefully sinking into the chair at the table. Taking a deep drink of lemonade, she raised her eyebrows at the tartness of it—Ben had a heavy hand with the powdered mix—but the taste was perfect for how hot and tired she was. Sighing in contentment, she scanned the cluttered countertop. It looked like he’d used every bowl in the kitchen to contain the snapped beans. Rachel didn’t care. She’d been dreading spending the evening snapping beans. A task that needed to be done, but not one she cared for. She’d much rather pod peas. Actually tonight, she’d much rather sit and do nothing. Or just hand sew the little outfits she’d been making for the babies. And now she could.

  Taking another sip, she studied Ben’s back, broad between the bands of his suspenders and his lean, corded forearms, the dark tan of them sharply contrasting with the rolled up sleeves of his white shirt as he pulled a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. His brother, Aaron, might have frequently filled her ears and soul with sweet words, but right now, Rachel couldn’t think of anything sweeter or more satisfying for her body and soul than what her husband had just done for her.

  Chapter Twelve

  “It pains me to watch you walk across the room, so I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.” Ben’s eyes were worried when Rachel glanced over at his comment.

  She shifted her unconscious grimace into a weak smile. “Well,” she pressed one hand against what seemed the constant ache in her back and hips and the other under her greatly rounded midsection, “I must admit, it pains me too.”

  “Why don’t you sit down?” Ben patted the chair he was passing. “How long before...they arrive?”

  “They’ll come when they’re ready. But the midwife says that twins usually arrive three weeks or so before single babies. It’s September so maybe in another few weeks?” Her tentative glance met his.

  Ben’s eyes widened. He looked down at her stomach, then back to meet her gaze. Rachel knew what he was thinking. She was thinking the same thing. How much bigger would she get before the babies came? How much bigger could she?

  “Do you—” he swallowed “—do you regret not doing the pictures and procedures like the Englisch people do?”

  Stifling a groan as she shifted position, Rachel twisted her hands together. “It’s not our way. I don’t care whether they’re boys or girls, but—” she started to inhale deeply, flinching when she was reminded it wasn’t possible to do so anymore. “I’d like to know how they’re doing. To know they’re...all right.” Her voice ended as breathless as she felt.

  “I know. But whatever happens, it’s Gott’s will.” Ben quietly echoed her thoughts.

  Rachel steered her mind away from what wasn’t hers to control. “And I can’t sit. There’s too much to do.”

  “I can help.”

  “Nee. When? You returned to work weeks ago, probably sooner than you should’ve. Now that the doctor reluctantly cleared you to feed the cattle after six weeks, with that and all the other livestock chores you persuaded Jethro to leave for you.” She shook her head. “You won’t have time for much more.”

  “You need some help. We’ll need to hire a helper after the babies are born anyway. How about hiring one now?”

  Rachel blinked at the possibility. Employing a hired girl after a baby’s arrival was common practice in the Amish community. Rachel didn’t know about having one come before the child was born, but the way her hips and back constantly bothered her and the sleep she wasn’t getting at night was beginning to wear on her. She shuffled over to the chair Ben had indicated earlier and sank down into it.

  “Who would you suggest?”

  Ben sat down in his chair as he pondered the question. “Your schweschder?”

  Rachel shook her head. “Rebecca likes her job at the restaurant. She’s worked there for years. I couldn’t ask her to quit to help me for a short time and risk not getting her job back.”

  “Ach, the same with mine. With two of us in the family recently gone—” Rachel shared his wince at the words, knowing he was referring to Aaron “—they’re needed at home, at least until winter.”

  They sat in silence. Rachel figured Ben, like her, was trying to think of available young women in the community.

  Ben straightened in his chair. “Jacob mentioned at work that his sister was looking for a job. Perhaps...”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Ben grinned at her quick denial and flat tone. “No?” Rachel could see his dimples flash. She raised her eyebrows at him so he knew she didn’t appreciate his teasing.

  “No,” she reiterated empathically.

  “Why ever not, I wonder.” Folding his hands together, Ben thoughtfully considered the ceiling.

  Rachel snorted. “I’d rather do everything myself before and after the boppeli are born than have Lydia Troyer in my house.” Just the thought made her want to shudder. “Besides, do you want everyone in the district to know what goes on in our house?”

  Ben was still smiling when he glanced back at her. “I’m sure someone will come to mind before we have to resort to certain considerations. But as far as gossip, it’s not like we’re really that interesting...” His voice trailed off as his gaze touched on their separate bedroom doors. “I suppose not.”

  Rachel’s attention rested on the wooden doors as well. What would happen after the boppeli were born? Would she and Ben continue to stay in separate rooms? Shifting in her seat, she carefully avoided looking at him as she felt her cheeks warm. Now, the way she constantly twisted and turned in a futile attempt to find a comfortable position for the night, she’d keep anyone else in the room awake, as well. But after the boppeli arrived... Rachel flushed further as she realized she wouldn’t mind sharing a bedroom with her husband. The two rooms, an embarrassing and adamant necessity w
hen they’d moved in immediately after their awkward wedding, now didn’t seem quite as necessary. Needing to do something with her hands, Rachel picked up the dark blue cloth on the petite table next to her chair and searched it until she located her sewing needle.

  “Probably a gut thing about Lydia.”

  Frowning at the mention of the woman’s name and the memories it stirred, Rachel looked over in question at Ben’s overly casual remark.

  “As Jacob said the job she’s looking for is in Pennsylvania.”

  Rachel sat forward abruptly, or tried to with the burden of her stomach. “What?”

  “Going there to live with a cousin. Seems she thinks the opportunities might be more plentiful there.”

  Rachel’s lips twisted, although they were on their way to a smile. “The opportunities to chase men, you mean.”

  “Think I ought to warn them?” Ben picked up the paper from the small table beside his chair. “I could run an advertisement in The Budget. Sort of like a public service announcement.”

  Her chuckle expanded to a laugh, followed by a groan when she couldn’t find enough air to support her giggles. “Nee. She might be just what someone is looking for.”

  “That’s a frightening thought. Even to inflict on Pennsylvanians.”

  Rachel giggled some more, her hands bouncing on her rounded belly. When she regained composure, she mused, “I hope for even Lydia to find her chosen one. She wants a husband very much.”

  Ben met her smiling gaze. “Well, we don’t always get what we want.” If the room weren’t so quiet, she wouldn’t have heard his following words as he lifted the paper and turned his attention to it. “Although sometimes it’s possible.”

  Rachel continued to study him, her smile softening. Although she certainly hadn’t thought it at the time, she was realizing more and more that Ben was surely Gott’s chosen one for her. She was sure she’d been in love with Aaron. But Ben just grew on you over time. Her hands on her stomach shifted to identify a knee here, an elbow over there. Kind of like her little passengers. Who would soon be arriving.

  Refocusing on potential hired girls, Rachel considered the young women in the community. But any that came to mind either had jobs, were needed at home or were perhaps too young. Which was quite young indeed, as many Amish girls in large families were already well accustomed to taking care of younger siblings and household chores at an early age.

  Ben’s sigh drifted to her as she picked up her sewing. He was apparently running into the same roadblock. With his work-roughened hand, he began stroking his short beard. Rachel hid a smile at the sight. After all these months, he still didn’t seem used to its presence. But, seeing his eyes narrow as he stared at the wall, perhaps the action was thought-provoking.

  “Gideon Schrock mentioned wanting to get one of his sisters up to Wisconsin. He’s been living at the farm with Samuel and Gail since they were married, but Gideon figures when they start growing their family, they’ll want the place to themselves. He’s not opposed to moving out, but not if he has to fix his own meals and take care of housework.” Ben grinned. “Apparently, he and Samuel weren’t too successful at that before. But if a sister moved up, they could share a place.”

  Rachel paused in the middle of a stitch. She liked the Schrock brothers, who’d moved into the area a few years back when Malachi Schrock had purchased the furniture business where Ben worked. If the sister was anything like her brothers, Rachel figured they could deal pretty well together.

  “Weren’t they from Ohio? Do you think she’d move that far from home to come up here?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll ask Gideon or Malachi. From what he said, I know Gideon would be all for it. Do you think she’ll be able to care for two boppeli?”

  Wrinkling her nose, Rachel resumed her sewing. “I don’t know how well I’ll be able to care for two boppeli and I’m going to be their mamm.”

  “I think you’ll be a wunderbar mamm to them.”

  Rachel flushed under his warm regard. Her husband may not say sweet words to her very frequently, but when he did, she knew they were heartfelt and all the more precious. Her gaze darted about the picked-up living area, cleaning that she hadn’t done. Another thing he just quietly did for her. Ben’s kind words might be the frosting on the cake of all she was discovering he did for her. And, to Rachel’s surprise, she was discovering, between the two, she’d rather have the cake.

  * * *

  Rachel’s heavy sigh echoed across the quiet room. Ben looked up from reviewing local livestock sales listed in The Budget. Someday, when they had their own place, he’d liked to get a few cattle. If his wife could tolerate them. “What’s wrong?”

  “I left my scissors in the bedroom.” Shifting awkwardly, she placed her hands on the edge of the chair to lever herself up.

  Ben was relieved the twinge that stung his chest when he bounded out of his seat was minimal. “You stay put. I’ll get it.”

  “Denki,” she murmured gratefully as she sank back into her chair with a soft smile.

  “Where am I looking?” Ben called over his shoulder as he headed for her bedroom.

  “I was working the other night when I couldn’t sleep. Should be somewhere on the stand by the bed? Maybe in the drawer?”

  When he lit the lamp on the nightstand, the only other items on the otherwise neat surface were a spool of thread and a half-finished outfit, similar to the one she was currently working on in the other room. Ben smiled. Rachel had started two, reasoning that, with twins, many outfits would need to be completed. Having projects in both rooms saved walking back and forth if she happened to carefully settle where one wasn’t within reach. Lifting the dark blue fabric to confirm the scissors weren’t hidden underneath, Ben marveled at its miniature size, at the wonder that it could soon hold his son or daughter. He was flooded with emotions he wasn’t yet ready to share with his wife. Tempted, as things had been so gut between them lately, but not yet ready.

  Closing his eyes, he brought the tiny garment to his chest and pressed it against his heart. Gott, denki for this dream I never figured could be realized. The chance to love this woman. To raise a family with her. Although I feared at first, I believe that we can make it. That in time our marriage can thrive and not just exist. His fingers tightened around the garment. That these will be the first of many children. Help me to be the husband and daed I need to be.

  Raising the fabric to his face, he pressed his lips to it before carefully setting it down. Not finding the scissors on top of the nightstand, he tugged on the nob of the simple single drawer below. It slid out easily, revealing the scissors and a few spools of thread. Relieved at the discovery, Ben picked them up and started to slide the drawer shut. He froze when he saw what lay beneath the scissors.

  Inside the drawer, its few contents neat like the surface of the stand, was an envelope. Instantly recognizing the handwriting that scrawled Rachel Mast across the front of it, Ben’s breath had locked in his throat. As brothers sharing a desk at school, they used to tease each other. Aaron had liked to write as much as Ben hadn’t. Sometimes he would write Ben’s homework for him in exchange for Ben doing chores. Until the teacher noted Aaron’s handwriting, as Ben did now.

  After a moment, his eyes shifted to the empty white corner. No return address.

  His bruder had written his wife. And she hadn’t said anything about it.

  Unconsciously straightening, Ben put a few more inches between him and the drawer, his eyes still fixed on its contents. When had the letter been sent? The postmark was smudged. Had she brought it over when they’d moved? It was addressed to her family’s farm. It could be an old communication. Aaron was good about that. Writing letters. Saying sweet things. They’d had a long romance. Aaron could’ve sent several letters and she’d only kept this one. That was history.

  But still, she’d kept this one.

  His heart r
ate accelerated as his stomach twisted. Things seemed to have been going so well between them lately.

  He shouldn’t look at it.

  But it could be recent. It could reveal where his bruder was. What he was doing. Ben reached toward it, his hand pausing an inch away. If it was recent, it could be something he didn’t want to see. What could be good about his wife communicating with the man she’d thought she’d marry? What could be good about her keeping secrets from her husband?

  Ben jerked his hand back. He swallowed before snorting softly. He’d been less cautious when he’d once encountered a rare Massasauga rattlesnake while clearing brush.

  “Did you find it?” He flinched as Rachel’s voice floated in from the other room.

  “Ja.” He responded hoarsely. He’d found it, all right.

  He’d rather deal with the snake. Tentatively, as if it was the poisonous reptile, he lifted the envelope and turned it over. It was open. Whatever was in it, Rachel had read it. She knew what it said. His breathing shallow, Ben opened the flap and pulled out the single sheet of paper. Flicking it open, one ear tuned to the door in case Rachel decided to see what was keeping him, he scanned the words. His bruder had written so little. Said so much. Folding the paper with a slow exhale, Ben returned it to the envelope.

  No word of where his brother was. Only that he was thinking about Ben’s wife and regretted hurting her. No word of whether he was coming back. It’d been sent to Rachel’s home address. Did he know she was married? Did Aaron know Ben had taken his wife? His life?

  Speaking of secrets, didn’t Ben have his own? His hand clenched, reminding him of the forgotten scissors when the edges of the blade cut into his palm. Slowly, carefully, he pushed the drawer shut. Rachel was to have been Aaron’s wife. Her children should’ve been Aaron’s. He’d stolen his brother’s life.