An Unexpected Amish Courtship

by Rachel J. Good

“Napping midday?” Wilma’s critical tone matched Onkel Lloyd’s. She blew out a loud breath. “Maybe it’s for the best. Then I don’t have to talk to you.”

  Sovilla bit the inside of her lip. Had Mamm known Sovilla would be such a terrible burden? How was this any different than staying at Lloyd’s? Sovilla had been expecting an older version of her gentle mamm. Instead, she’d gotten a female copy of her onkel.

  Even worse, Wilma had left the Amish, and her lip curled every time she looked at Sovilla’s Plain dress. How would Sovilla live with her Englisch aenti? One who seemed mad at the world? How would she live in a house with electricity? How would she get around without a horse and buggy?

  Please, Lord, help me to adjust and show Wilma your love.

  Sovilla wished Wilma would hurry. After traveling all day, all Sovilla wanted to do was wash off the grime, eat supper, and curl into bed. The next thing she knew, though, her aenti had dragged her into the market to meet Gideon, who owned a chicken barbecue stand, and Fern, who sold baked goods at one end of his stand. They’d offered her a part-time job for the following week. Too tired to concoct a polite excuse, Sovilla found herself railroaded into agreeing to take Fern’s place in the bakery and into baking a long list of pastries and cakes to sell.

  Still reeling from the rapid changes in her life, Sovilla had fallen asleep that night in a strange bed uncertain about her future. What had Mamm been thinking to send her to another state to stay with an aenti who seemed to despise the Amish?

  * * *

  Wednesday, their day off from the market, passed in a blur. Isaac did most of his weekly kennel work, along with his farm chores. Today, though, he found himself longing for a cinnamon bun. He’d eaten plenty of Fern’s light and airy rolls, but the one he’d had yesterday had been denser, with a chewier texture he preferred, and the perfect blend of sweetness to contrast with the tang of cinnamon.

  Andrew’s chuckle brought Isaac back to the barnyard with a thud. “Who are you thinking about?”

  Although he hadn’t been thinking of Sovilla, at least not that moment, he shook his head.

  “Come on. You can’t fool me.”

  Isaac managed to spit out the truth.

  His brother’s mocking laughter filled the air. “Cinnamon buns? You looked all”—Andrew lowered his lids halfway and assumed a dreamy expression.

  “D-did not.”

  “Jah, you did.” In a falsetto voice, Andrew warbled, “Ach, Sovilla, you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” He exhaled a long, shuddery breath.

  For the first time in his life, Isaac longed to punch his brother in the stomach. How dare he make fun of Sovilla! And of the tender feelings Isaac held for her.

  Andrew laughed. “You look like Mamm’s teakettle.”

  Huh?

  “All steamed.” With a snicker, he danced out of Isaac’s reach.

  That was probably for the best. Isaac would never forgive himself if he hit his twin. But he needed to find a way to get these feelings under control. If even remembering her cinnamon rolls made him as dreamy eyed as his brother said, he had to erase Sovilla from his mind. Yet the harder he tried, the more it proved impossible.

  In fact, he woke at dawn on Thursday hungering for cinnamon rolls and a glimpse of the angel who baked them. Her name replayed as a lilting melody. Sovilla, Sovilla, Sovilla. Had he ever heard a prettier name? Or seen a lovelier face?

  At breakfast, he missed his plate when he dished out scrambled eggs and almost knocked over his glass of milk when he tried to scoop up the slippery mess.

  “Goodness, Isaac, what’s gotten into you this morning?” Mamm peered at him over the top of her glasses.

  “Don’t mind him, Mamm. He’s in love.” Andrew sang the last word.

  Daed’s stern glance sobered Andrew, but everyone else stared at Isaac.

  He shook his head and lowered his gaze to his plate.

  “Leave your brother alone.” Mamm passed a bowl of applesauce. “Eat up so you won’t be late to market.”

  To Isaac’s relief, Daed turned the conversation to a new brand of chicken feed he’d heard about at the market. Mamm asked questions, and his brothers and sisters concentrated on eating. In his eagerness to see Sovilla again, Isaac practically inhaled his breakfast.

  Once they reached the auction, he waited impatiently for a chance. He intended to slip off without being noticed, but Andrew spied him and Snickers edging in the direction of the market.

  “Bet you’re going to get a cinnamon bun, right?” His brother waggled his eyebrows. “I’m hungry for one too.”

  Pinching his lips together as Andrew walked beside him, Isaac stewed. Now he couldn’t stare at Sovilla. He focused on Snickers as they entered the market from the auction parking lot outside. The three of them headed for the bakery line.

  “You do know she’s only going to be there for a week while Fern’s gone?”

  She is? Isaac’s gaze flew to his brother’s face to see if Andrew was teasing.

  No laugh lines crinkled around his brother’s eyes. Andrew’s face held the serious expression it always did when he told the truth. “That’s what Nick said.”

  Isaac’s spirits had been soaring like a kite zipping in the wind. His brother’s words snipped the string. Down, down, down the kite tumbled to land with a crash. The kite—and Isaac’s excitement—lay in a heap of torn cloth and broken sticks.

  Only three more days to see her.

  Andrew clapped him on the back. “I changed my mind. I’ll skip the cinnamon roll today.”

  What? Isaac stared as his brother headed back outside to the auction. How odd. But it did mean he was free to stare at Sovilla. He turned around, but rather than Sovilla, Fern stood behind the counter.

  She smiled at him, so he couldn’t slip out of line. What had happened to Sovilla?

  * * *

  Sovilla reached her aenti’s stand. She’d rushed right over after getting the message. Wilma appeared to be in fine form as she traded insults with a customer.

  “Don’t buy it, then.” Wilma turned her head away as if she couldn’t care less.

  Drawing in a relieved breath, Sovilla asked, “You needed to see me right away?”

  “Is that what Margery told you?”

  “Well, not exactly.” But she had made it sound urgent. From Margery’s breathless account, Sovilla had had mental pictures of Wilma collapsed on the floor.

  “It figures. Can’t trust people to take a simple message.”

  The customer broke in. “I’ll take it.”

  “You’ll regret not getting two jars if you’re having company.”

  “Fine. Give me both.” With a resigned look, the woman pulled out her wallet and handed over the money.

  After Wilma gave the customer her change, she turned to Sovilla. “I heard Fern came back early. I only wanted to tell you that you can come help me if they don’t need you.”

  Was her aenti being thoughtful? Or had she needed help but didn’t know how to ask?

  “Don’t look so surprised,” Wilma snapped. “I’m not going to have people talking about my niece being thrown out on her ear.”

  Sovilla doubted Gideon or Fern would toss anyone out. They seemed much too nice. “Nettie’s out sick today, so Fern has been helping with the salads.” Or she had been until Sovilla had to leave. “I should get back unless you need me.”

  “Does it look like I’m busy?”

  Not really. But Sovilla didn’t want to say that.

  “Be honest, girl. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

  Sovilla eyed the empty space in front of the counter. “Neh, but I’m sure you will be.”

  “Yeah, right. I’ll be run off my feet.” Wilma waved toward the bakery. “Go on back to work before you get fired.”

  “You can send someone for me if you need help,” Sovilla said, reluctant to leave her aenti looking so despondent.

  For a second, Wilma’s expression softened, then she shooed Sovilla with a rapid hand flap. “
Get out of here.”

  Sovilla scooted. Once again, though, she’d had a glimpse behind her aenti’s battle armor. Somewhere inside, Wilma seemed to be hiding a hurting heart.

  Please, Lord, help me to break through that toughness with Your love.

  When Sovilla returned to the stand, she had to brush past that blond guy to get inside. But before she did, she couldn’t resist bending down to pet his cute puppy.

  “N-neh!” The word exploded from his mouth.

  She jumped back. To calm her jittery nerves, she took a deep breath and smoothed down her apron. All right, then, be that way. She whirled around and, head held high, entered the stand.

  “You’re back.” Fern greeted Sovilla with a wide smile. “Can you take over here? Gideon needs help.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she started for the other end of the stand.

  Sovilla turned to face the young man who’d just yelled at her. She put on her be-kind-to-customers face. She wasn’t about to let him know he’d hurt her feelings.

  “Oh, Isaac will have one cinnamon roll,” Fern called over her shoulder.

  “Is that right?” Sovilla asked him.

  He stared at her as if she’d startled him. Then he nodded.

  After she’d bagged it, he held out his payment, but his eyes seemed to be offering her an apology.

  She tried never to hold grudges, but it was hard not to resent someone who was so selfish he wouldn’t let anyone touch his dog. She’d thought him rude before, but now she added unkind.

  When she handed him his change, he flicked his head in a nod that might have been thanks. And his eyes begged for understanding. Sovilla relented a little. Maybe he was just awkward around people. She’d give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “Have a good day,” she said as she gave him the bag.

  His blinding smile dazzled her so much she could barely concentrate on the next customer.

  Nick brought her down with a thud. “I’m warning you,” he said, “those Lantz boys can be charmers. You don’t want to get mixed up with them, especially if you already have a boyfriend.”

  “It never entered my mind,” Sovilla retorted. But she had to admit Isaac’s smile stayed with her. And somehow, even thoughts of Henry didn’t erase it.

  * * *

  Isaac couldn’t believe he’d yelled at Sovilla. Not yelled exactly, but snapped at her. Even scared her. He’d had to stop her before she petted Snickers.

  He’d only seen a hand reaching out. If he’d glanced up and seen her, maybe he’d have softened his command. Or perhaps he’d have been too paralyzed to move or make a sound.

  He owed her an apology. But how could he give her one?

  Caught up in regrets, Isaac glanced over his shoulder at Sovilla one last time and almost ran into Mrs. Vandenberg.

  The elderly woman waited at the end of Sovilla’s line. “My, my. I’ve never seen anyone so smitten.” She lifted her cane and almost poked Isaac in the stomach. “If you want my advice, you should speak up. Let her know you’re interested.”

  Isaac glanced around, his cheeks burning. Mrs. Vandenberg’s voice carried. He hoped Sovilla hadn’t heard. Or if she did, that she wouldn’t realize they’d been talking about her. Well, Mrs. Vandenberg had been speaking. As usual, he’d remained silent.

  She set her cane down with a thump. “Better tell her soon before someone else does.”

  “I—I—I c-can’t.”

  “Of course you can. Don’t be shy.”

  “B-b-but—”

  “You mean what will she think? She’ll discover you’re as wonderful as everyone else knows you are.”

  From the time he’d been small, Mrs. Vandenberg had encouraged him. She always knew what he needed and tried to help. He appreciated her advice, but in this case, she was wrong.

  “I have a suggestion.” Her this-is-just-between-us smile conveyed she was sharing something special. Something that could change his life. “Why don’t you do what Demosthenes did?”

  “D-d-dem who?”

  “Demosthenes,” she repeated. She fished around in her huge handbag and pulled out a small notepad with a pen attached. Then she jotted down a word, tore out the page, and handed it to him.

  Isaac had no idea what Mrs. Vandenberg’s word meant, but maybe he’d stop at the library to find out.

  “I’ll be praying,” she called after him.

  Although Isaac believed prayer worked wonders, he’d often begged God for a solution to his inability to speak to people and never received an answer.

  Chapter Four

  As Sovilla finished cleaning the bakery shelves, Wilma clomped over to the stand. Her aenti never walked; each footfall vibrated with displeasure. And a cloud of gloom enveloped her. Negativity radiated from her in waves that made people back away. Little children hid behind their parents or ducked behind the pillars when she passed.

  Whatever pain Wilma had experienced, she had no intention of suffering in silence. She intended to make the rest of the world pay.

  Sovilla sighed. The busy day had kept her from dwelling on missing Mamm, her sisters, and Henry. All of her customers had been friendly and welcoming—except for that blond guy with the puppy. But Wilma’s grumpy face brought all the loneliness and sadness rushing back.

  “Be ready to leave in ten minutes.” Wilma barked out her order and marched off.

  “Whew.” Nick pretended to wipe his brow. “That woman would have made a great drill sergeant. I wouldn’t even wish her on my worst enemy.” He grinned. “Naw, maybe I would.”

  Sovilla didn’t answer. She wouldn’t criticize her family.

  Nick chuckled. “I can’t believe the two of you are related.”

  Neither could Sovilla. The idea that Wilma was her aenti still seemed unreal.

  “Wait a minute.” Nick wrinkled his brow. “How come you’re Amish and she’s not?”

  “I don’t know.” Sovilla had wondered the same thing.

  “How could you not know?” His narrowed eyes revealed his suspicion.

  “I’d better finish up here before Wilma returns.”

  “Something fishy’s going on. How come you call her Wilma instead of aunt?”

  “It’s the Amish way. We call people by their first names.”

  “Is that part of your silly beliefs like not letting people get high school degrees so they don’t get uppity?”

  “We’re all the same in God’s eyes.”

  Fern came up behind her. “Stop picking on her, Nick. She’s only been here two days.”

  “Nothing wrong with being curious.” He looked from Fern to Sovilla and then back again. “How come she has that barrel-shaped thingie sticking out of the back of her head? Everyone else has those flat see-through ones that look like hearts.”

  “They’re called prayer coverings.” Fern took out the cash drawer and said to Sovilla, “I’ll take care of the rest of the cleaning after I close out, so you can leave with your aenti.”

  “Danke.” Sovilla appreciated Fern saving her from Wilma’s tongue.

  “OK, so prayer coverings, then,” Nick persisted. “Why are they different?”

  “Each Amish community has their own style of dress.” Fern’s practiced fingers riffled through the dollar bills. She tucked a few back into the drawer and stuffed the rest into a zippered pouch. “Sovilla’s kapp is a style from the Midwest.”

  Nick stared at her, incredulous. “They have Amish in the Midwest? I thought only Pennsylvania had them.”

  Sovilla smiled. “Amish live in many different states all across the country. Ohio and Indiana have quite a few Amish. So do New York State and—”

  “Wait a minute. You’re saying they’re all over?”

  “That’s right.” Fern snapped a bill holder in place and moved on to the next divider.

  “But how come I never knew that?”

  Before either of them could answer him, Wilma’s loud yell interrupted them. “Sovilla, what’s taking so long?”

  �
��I’d better go.” Sovilla scurried around Fern. She’d been expecting Wilma to return for her.

  When Sovilla rounded the corner, Wilma blew out an explosive breath. “It’s about time. I said ten minutes.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her excuse shriveled on her lips at Wilma’s impatient expression. Wilma had already made it clear she wouldn’t suffer fools or tardy nieces.

  As they left the building, they passed Isaac holding his puppy in the air and rubbing noses with him. The puppy licked Isaac’s face, and he laughed, a deep, mellow tone that strummed Sovilla’s heartstrings. Once again, a dazzling smile lit his face, sparking deep delight that spread through her whole being.

  “How disgusting.” Wilma’s harsh tones shattered Sovilla’s joy. “Why would anyone want a filthy animal to slobber on them?”

  “Some people enjoy their pets.” Sovilla avoided saying love. Wilma had made it known she despised that word.

  “I have no idea how he can stand it. And he takes that animal with him everywhere. I have a mind to complain to the market owner and forbid him to bring it inside.”

  “Please don’t do that.” Sovilla couldn’t bear to think of the pain that would cause.

  Isaac may have been rude to her, but he adored his puppy. Separating them would be cruel. He looked like a different person when he interacted with his dog. Maybe it was easier for him to communicate with animals than with people.

  Sovilla wished she could wrap some of Isaac’s happiness around her as a shield against Wilma’s constant complaints. The rest of the way home her aenti whined about her day, detailing every real or imagined grievance. With her eyes closed, Sovilla could easily mistake Wilma’s deep, low grumbling for her onkel’s. Not only did Wilma’s tone mirror Lloyd’s, they both oozed the same discontent.

  At the house, Wilma stopped at the mailbox out front and pulled out circulars and a rolled-up newspaper. She tossed it all onto the back seat of her car without sorting through it. “Trash.”

  When she tromped on the gas, the pile slid to the floor and scattered. The corner of an envelope peeked out from under one of the ads. A letter? Maybe Mamm or Henry had written.

  As soon as Wilma slammed the gearshift into park, Sovilla hopped out. She had to prevent Wilma from scooping up the mail and tossing it in the garbage.