An Unexpected Amish Courtship

by Rachel J. Good

  * * *

  The excitement flooding Isaac’s body made it hard for him to eat. By the time he returned to the auction, he’d only taken one bite of his pretzel.

  Andrew confronted Isaac the minute he returned. “Where have you been?”

  Isaac waved his pretzel in answer.

  “What’s with the pretzel? You’ve never bought one before.”

  Ever since the day when he’d been eight and Pickle Lady had shamed him for his stutter, Isaac had avoided that end of the market. He had no need for pickles or flowers. And he’d never wanted to risk running into Wilma ever again.

  “We needed you here. What took so long?”

  With a quick shrug, Isaac took a casual bite, although he was feeling very un-casual. He still tingled inside as he replayed his conversation with Sovilla.

  “Wait a minute.” Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “You took a long time getting a roll at breakfast too. Pickle Lady’s stand is nearby. I don’t suppose a certain girl is helping her aenti?”

  Pretending not to hear, Isaac strolled past Andrew.

  “You have a speaking problem, not a hearing problem,” his brother said behind him.

  Isaac whirled around. Andrew had never been deliberately cruel before.

  His brother held up his hands. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But you shouldn’t have walked away without talking to me either.”

  “S-stop t-teasing me.”

  “I can’t even ask a simple question?” Andrew acted hurt. “Don’t you think when your brother gets interested in a girl he should share? Especially with his twin?”

  “N-not if he l-likes the same g-girl.”

  “You think I like her? What gave you that idea?” Andrew’s innocent look appeared fake.

  Isaac answered with an eye roll.

  “Ach, just because I talked to her and . . .” Andrew followed Isaac back to the auction building. “How else could we find out more about her?”

  That wasn’t all. What about him announcing Isaac was interested in Sovilla? Up until now, the two brothers had never had a rivalry over a girl, mainly because Isaac never felt comfortable approaching anyone at the singings.

  Andrew talked to a lot of girls but never seemed serious. What if he settled on Sovilla? Isaac wouldn’t stand a chance. Not when Andrew could charm girls and Isaac struggled to speak.

  She’d been sweet to talk to him and to listen patiently. That meant nothing. As a polite person, she’d be equally kind to a small child or an older person who needed special attention. That didn’t mean they shared a connection. And Andrew couldn’t be competition for Sovilla’s affection anyway. She already had a boyfriend.

  Chapter Eight

  Sovilla waited until Wilma, an almost-contented smile on her face, settled on a stool to finish her pretzel. This was the calmest Sovilla had ever seen her aenti, so she chanced asking, “When will you teach me to make these pickles?”

  Wilma sat bolt upright, almost tipping over the stool. “I’ve spent years getting my recipe just right. People come from miles around, even from other states sometimes, just to get my pickles.”

  Her aenti did have some very loyal customers, and Sovilla had to admit the pickles blended a vinegary tang with the perfect touch of sweetness.

  “You’ll never get your hands on my recipe. It’s all up here.” Wilma tapped her forehead. “And that’s where it’ll stay.”

  “What if I run out of pickles while you’re in the hospital?”

  “I have no choice but to trust you to sell what I have, but believe me, I’ll count every jar, so if you have any plans to cheat me—” Wilma’s ominous tone intensified her vague threat.

  “I’d never do that.” Sovilla couldn’t believe her aenti suspected that. Although Sovilla tried to remind herself that Wilma didn’t trust anyone, it still stung. “I asked about making pickles to help your stand earn more money.”

  “More for you to pilfer?”

  Sovilla shook her head. No wonder Wilma had no friends, if she accused everyone of trying to hurt her.

  Her aenti tsked loudly. “There they go again. I can’t believe they’re leaving their stand unattended.” Wilma waved toward the pretzel stand.

  Gideon and Fern stood waiting in line. They were the cutest couple, at least to Sovilla. Her aenti had a different opinion and mumbled to herself.

  “Whoever thought it was a good idea to put such a young man—and even worse, an Amish one—in charge of the whole market?” Wilma sniffed. “What was the owner thinking?”

  Having worked for Gideon, Sovilla could understand the owner’s choice. Gideon seemed fair and upright and kind. He also must be a smart businessman, because he’d expanded his chicken barbecue stand to include two more businesses—candy and baked goods. And everyone seemed to like working for him.

  “Seeing Fern reminds me,” Wilma said, “I told them you’d sell baked goods while I’m in the hospital. That’s what you did in Ohio, right?”

  “Jah, I did, but I don’t want to compete with Fern.”

  “Lots of stands in this market sell meat or crafts or other things. Competition is good. Besides, your baked goods will be so much better.”

  “I’ve never tasted Fern’s cooking, so I don’t know how mine compares.” Sovilla doubted her products would be as tasty. Nick had mentioned that Fern’s mother and grandmother had owned the stand. Fern must have recipes that had been perfected and passed down through the generations.

  “I imagine we’ll need Gideon’s permission to change the products we sell at the stand.” Wilma waved him over as he and Fern passed by.

  Fern smiled at both of them. “So nice to see you again, Sovilla. And how are you doing, Wilma?”

  Interestingly enough, Fern hadn’t mentioned she was happy to see Wilma. But Wilma didn’t seem to notice.

  “I’m doing terrible. And I’ll be in even worse shape in another week or so, if I’m even alive.”

  Fern’s eyes widened. “I hope not.”

  “Well, you never know about doctors nowadays. They’d just as soon kill as heal.”

  “I don’t think they’d do that,” Fern said in a calming tone. “Most people do fine after hip operations. Better than ever, in fact.”

  “I’m not other people.” Wilma shot Fern an indignant look. “My health has always been delicate.”

  It has? From everything Sovilla had seen, Wilma ate well, slept well, and worked long hours. She did limp a bit when she walked, and she winced if she had to stand for long hours. Other than that, she seemed quite healthy.

  Gideon smiled at both of them. “We need to get back. It’s good talking to you, and we’ll be praying for you, Wilma.” He took Fern’s elbow to steer her away.

  “Wait,” Wilma commanded. “I need to talk to you.”

  Sovilla admired how patient Gideon acted. She’d watched other people’s irritated reactions to her aenti.

  “Sovilla will be working here while I’m in the hospital. Obviously, I can’t trust her to make my pickles the way I do.”

  Fern’s brows rose. Then she sent Sovilla a sympathetic glance.

  Wilma pinned Gideon with a piercing gaze. “I assume I need to get your permission for her to sell something else. I’m sure you remember I told you Sovilla is a spectacular baker.”

  Behind Wilma’s back, Sovilla shook her head. She opened her mouth to contradict her aenti, but Wilma bulldozed her way along.

  “My niece is actually the best baker in Ohio, so I suggested she sell her cinnamon rolls, pastries, cookies, and cupcakes.”

  Gideon sent a tender, questioning look at Fern.

  “That’s nice.” Fern smiled at Sovilla. “I’m sure people will appreciate your wunderbar baking.”

  You’re sure? Gideon mouthed to Fern, and she nodded.

  But Sovilla wasn’t. Why had her aenti listed the exact same items that Fern had for sale? “I, um, don’t want to compete—”

  “Of course you do,” Wilma broke in.

  “Neh, I don�
��t.” Sovilla hated to argue, but she couldn’t allow her aenti to hurt someone else today. She’d already done enough to humiliate Isaac.

  Wilma glared at her. When she started to speak, Sovilla interrupted her aenti before she said anything more.

  “You don’t sell pies, do you? Or donuts? I could sell things you don’t.”

  Fern’s relieved smile conveyed her appreciation for Sovilla’s idea. Fern probably had family members to support.

  “That sounds like a fine plan.” The frown lines on Gideon’s forehead smoothed out. “I’ll let Mrs. Vandenberg know. I’m sure she won’t have any objection. When do you plan to switch?”

  Wilma’s disgruntled look made it clear she disliked Sovilla’s plan. “My operation is in two weeks. Sovilla can sell my pickles this week and maybe next. Then she can start making her pies.” At her sarcastic emphasis on the last word, Wilma seemed to indicate there’d be a change of plans.

  Gideon stared at her sharply. He’d detected the undertone too, but he had nothing to worry about. Sovilla had no desire to take business away from Fern. She and Gideon had been so kind during Sovilla’s first week in Pennsylvania. But Sovilla dreaded facing her aenti’s wrath once Gideon and Fern left.

  * * *

  On Wednesday morning, Isaac again practiced with his mouthful of gravel, trying to shout out Bible verses to his dogs as he went around feeding, grooming, and petting them after his morning chores. Then he let them out into their runs.

  Despite doing this exercise every morning and evening for more than a week now, he could manage no more than incoherent mumbling. During that time, Isaac had read and reread the books about Demosthenes and memorized the passages about him learning to speak. The biographies didn’t say how long it took Demosthenes to succeed. What if it took years and years?

  After Isaac had cared for all the dogs and puppies, he spit out the gravel and washed it. Then he hid the small container of gravel in the cupboard with the dog food and brushes. His family would wonder what he was up to if he picked up a handful of gravel every day. To prevent his brothers from finding the biographies, he kept them in the cupboard too, along with the Bible.

  Now that the puppies were playing and tumbling outside, peace descended on the kennel. The pups’ joyful yips and playful growls filtered in through the open dog doors. The sound filled Isaac with contentment. He savored the glimpses of his sweet dogs running and wrestling with one another.

  Isaac enjoyed his time away from the lively household with his eleven siblings. Having time alone was precious. Once his brothers noticed all the dogs had been let outside, they’d soon break his solitude.

  He had one more thing to do before they found him. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the paper Mrs. Vandenberg had given him yesterday. Tips from a Speech Therapist, it said at the top.

  Take a deep breath first and make sure you’re filling your diaphragm with air. Then speak on the out breath. It may feel unnatural, but keep practicing. Shallow breathing, lack of air, and trying to force out words can be one cause of stuttering. Speak slowly. Your speech might sound a little halting, but it can reduce stuttering.

  Isaac sucked in some air and tried. Did most people talk this way? It felt odd, but not as strange as speaking with gravel in his mouth.

  With all these techniques, maybe he’d be a great orator like Demosthenes someday. Isaac chuckled, imagining himself giving speeches to crowds of people. Jah, like that would happen in the Amish community.

  Besides, all he wanted to do was to ask and answer questions without turning bright red, to carry on conversations with people, and to order food at the market without stumbling over his words. Just doing those things seemed impossible.

  He’d stick with it until he conquered it, but he wished it didn’t seem like such a lengthy project. He had someone he wanted to talk to now—a certain green-eyed brunette popped into his mind and distracted him from Mrs. Vandenberg’s list.

  He indulged in those pleasant thoughts as he refilled all the water dishes. The puppies would be thirsty after romping in the warm sunshine. He’d come back later to play with them, but right now, he needed to buy more dog food. It also might be a good time to return the library books.

  He just had to get the books out to the buggy without any of his siblings spotting them. Isaac dug through the closet and unearthed an old canvas bag. He tucked the books inside and headed out to the barn to hitch up the horse.

  “Isaac,” his sister Leanne called, “come be on our team.” She tossed a baseball in the air.

  “Neh,” Andrew yelled, rushing out the back door. “Isaac’s on my side. Right, Isaac?”

  He shook his head. He couldn’t be on anyone’s team. Not right now. He had errands to run.

  “What?”

  At Andrew’s shrill question, Isaac turned to explain. He took a deep breath and tried to push the words out along with the air. “D-dog food.”

  “Ach, but you’re the only one who can strike out Leanne. Can’t you wait until later?”

  Isaac debated, but he wanted to play with the puppies before he had to do afternoon chores. The stop at the library would take time too.

  When he shook his head, Leanne thrust her lower lip out in a fake pout. “Come on, Isaac. Mamm only gave us a little time to play. We have to go in to help her can in half an hour.”

  Leanne almost convinced Isaac, but he had the books in the canvas sack. If he set it on the ground, one of his curious siblings might peek inside.

  He disliked letting everyone down. Without him, they’d have nobody who could strike out Leanne. But something seemed to be drawing him toward the town. It seemed urgent to go immediately, not later.

  Isaac shot his sister an apologetic look. “N-not now.”

  “Aww, Isaac. We won’t have time later. We’ll be in the hot kitchen all morning and afternoon.”

  “S-sorry.” Feeling guilty, he turned away and continued to the barn, leaving his siblings arguing over how to divide up the teams fairly without him.

  Not sure why he’d been so adamant about going for dog food right away when he could have postponed it for a half hour, Isaac hitched up the horse. Twenty minutes later, he tied her up at the hitching post in the library parking lot and entered the air-conditioned building. Over near the checkout computers, he spotted a familiar barrel-shaped kapp.

  Sovilla? His heart sped up. Joy filled him. If he’d stayed to play baseball, he might have missed her.

  He walked closer. He tried filling his lungs with air before speaking. “Sovilla?” He didn’t stutter, but the word blasted into the silent room like the crack of a bullet. People turned to stare.

  Sovilla jumped. She turned with both hands pressed against her heart. “Ach, Isaac, you startled me.”

  “S-sorry.”

  “That’s all right.” She picked up her stack of books. Then she looked at him with delight. “When you called my name, you didn’t stutter.”

  She’d noticed that? Isaac pulled the paper from his pocket to show her.

  As she took the page he held out to her, her smile lit a flame inside him that even the air-conditioning couldn’t cool.

  “Tips from a Speech Therapist,” she read aloud before skimming the page. “This is great. You were trying the first one? Pushing out words on your breath?”

  He bobbed his head up and down. “T-too loud.”

  “If you keep practicing, you’ll get it.”

  Isaac thanked her with a smile.

  “Nice talking to you,” she said. “I’d better hurry. Wilma’s waiting in the parking lot, so I can’t stay long.”

  Isaac wanted to spend more time with her. He breathed in and prayed he’d get the words out. “I could t-take you h-home.” He spoke each word slowly, the way the paper suggested, but each beat between words seemed agonizing.

  He expected Sovilla to look impatient or pained, but her smile never faltered.

  “Thanks for offering, but I only needed to check out a few cookbooks.”
/>   He cocked his head as if asking why.

  She got his unspoken question. “My aenti will be going into the hospital in two weeks, so I’ll be taking over the stand.”

  Isaac’s spirits sparkled with colored fireworks. She’d be at the market every day without her aenti. He wanted to ask how long Wilma would be gone, but that would be rude and unkind.

  Sovilla continued, “Wilma doesn’t trust me to make her pickles.”

  Isaac’s “Huh?” came out on an explosive breath. He was so upset for her, he hadn’t even tried any techniques.

  He wished he could erase the hurt in her eyes. Why in the world would Wilma not trust Sovilla? Anyone who met her could tell she was trustworthy.

  “Jah, well, it’s not only me she doesn’t trust.”

  Had Sovilla read his mind? Neh, she’d been responding to his huh.

  “I think something painful happened to her that’s made her suspicious of everyone.” Sovilla’s laugh held a note of ruefulness. “She’s probably wondering where I am right now and suspecting me of all kinds of wrongdoing. I’d better go.”

  Isaac sent her a look of sympathy. He couldn’t even imagine how hard it must be to live with Wilma.

  “I needed these cookbooks because my aenti wants me to sell baked goods while she’s in the hospital.”

  Yum! Isaac wouldn’t have to pretend to be interested in buying pickles. Deep breath. “Your sticky b-buns are g-good.”

  “Danke. Wilma wanted me to make those, but I don’t want to compete with Fern, so I’m going to make something different. Maybe pies and donuts.”

  Plenty of people in the market opened competing stands. But it said a lot about Sovilla’s kindness that she’d think of Fern’s feelings. She’d done the same by patiently listening to him garble out his words.

  As much as he wished she’d done that because she returned his interest, Isaac had to remind himself she’d have done the same for anyone. But it didn’t stop him from rejoicing over spending time with her. And he saw plenty of pies and donuts in his future.