An Unexpected Amish Courtship

by Rachel J. Good

  Chapter Nine

  Sovilla headed for the exit, but she stopped as Isaac pulled books out of the canvas sack he was carrying. She strained to read the titles.

  Demosthenes? It looked like both books were about the same thing. He sure had strange tastes in reading.

  “What took you so long?” Wilma demanded the minute Sovilla opened the car door.

  “Sorry. I had trouble finding the nonfiction section.” She’d memorized the layout of the library in Sugarcreek, but she’d had to search for the 640s in this library.

  “Hmph. That’s what librarians are for. Why didn’t you ask?”

  Sovilla should have, but she wanted to learn the layout of the library here. Although she might not have any way to get there once her aenti went into the hospital.

  Wilma started to back out of the parking space. Then she slammed on the brakes.

  Sovilla pitched forward, and the seat belt cut into her. Books flew from her lap and crashed around her feet. “What . . . ?” Glancing around to see what they’d almost collided with, she spotted Isaac exiting the library.

  Uh-oh.

  “Is that Isaac Lantz?” Wilma asked through gritted teeth. “You came here to meet him, didn’t you?”

  “Neh, I had no idea he’d be here.”

  Her face almost purple, she glowered at Sovilla. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m telling the truth.” But protests would be useless.

  “Yesterday, you met him at the pretzel stand.” Wilma spat out each word. “Today, it’s the library. Where will it be next?”

  “I don’t have any plans to meet him.” Sovilla could barely force words from her constricted throat. “I’m not interested in Isaac. I have a boyfriend in Sugarcreek.”

  “So not only is he cheating on you, you’re cheating on him. I’d hoped my sister’s dochder would have more morals than an alley cat.”

  Too stunned and hurt to respond, Sovilla twisted her fingers in the fabric of her apron. Although it might make her look guilty, she kept her eyes focused on her hands. If her aenti had slapped her, Sovilla couldn’t have been more shocked.

  “Speaking of cats, a cat got your tongue? You don’t even have the decency to look me in the eye? Wait, what am I saying? You? Decent?”

  Sovilla’s chin shot up, and she stared directly into her aenti’s eyes. “I have never given you a reason to not trust me. And I’ve never done anything—ever—like that. I follow the Bible and the Ordnung and—”

  Wilma cut her off. “You’re not perfect.”

  “I never claimed to be.” Close to tears, Sovilla tried to keep her voice from wobbling. “I try my best to stay away from sinning. And I would never cheat on my boyfriend or steal from you.”

  “Pretty speeches cover up plenty of sin.”

  Sovilla was tempted to retort that maybe Wilma saw evil everywhere because she’d turned her back on God. But Sovilla bit her tongue.

  “Nothing to say to that, huh? How did you get to know Isaac? Never mind. I bet you met him when you worked at Gideon’s stand.” Wilma pushed on the gas so hard, they shot forward, and the books that had hit Sovilla’s feet earlier smacked into her ankles. She’d have several bruises tomorrow.

  The whole way home, Wilma harangued Sovilla. As they neared their road, her aenti moved from lecturing to threatening. “That boy nor any other had better not set foot in the house while I’m gone. If they do, you’ll live to regret it, believe you me.”

  Sovilla sat hands and jaw clenched. Please, Lord, open her eyes. Help her to see the truth.

  “I can imagine what trouble you and that boy will get up to.”

  Trying hard to keep her tone measured, Sovilla said in a quiet voice, “I barely know Isaac. I’ve said maybe four or five sentences to him when we’ve met. So far, we’ve talked about pretzels, books, and dogs.”

  “Oh, sure.” Wilma wielded her sarcasm like a sharp sword, as if hoping to draw blood.

  Her jerky driving revealed her agitation. As they came to a red light, she tromped on the brake. Sovilla had prepared for it by putting her feet on top of the cookbooks, so at least she didn’t get hit by flying books. But the seat belt chafed each time she was thrown forward.

  Wilma seared Sovilla with a fiery glare. “I know the kinds of things teenagers do.”

  “I’ve joined the church. I don’t intend to do anything to dishonor God or break any of the Ordnung rules.” That didn’t mean she always kept them, but she did her best.

  And as for being around boys, Mamm had had no problem with Sovilla being alone with Henry. She knew they both could be trusted.

  “All kinds of things can happen, even to those who plan to be good.”

  Evidently, Wilma believed—with no proof—that leaving Sovilla alone meant she’d do something bad. And Sovilla had no way to convince her differently.

  They rode in silence the rest of the way home.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t go into the hospital,” Wilma mused as she unlocked the front door.

  Although Sovilla had tried to make allowances for Wilma’s grumpiness, she wouldn’t stay where she wasn’t wanted. Wilma seemed to have had an abrupt change of heart. Not that long ago, she’d written Sovilla into her will. Now, she didn’t even trust her alone in the house.

  “If you’re not having the operation, I can write to Mamm to see about going back.”

  Wilma whirled around. “You’d rather stay with Lloyd than with me?” Her accusatory tone didn’t match the hurt in her eyes.

  “I didn’t say that. It just seems I’m trouble for you.”

  “Excuses, excuses. If you don’t want to be here, be honest.”

  Sovilla couldn’t help the sigh that escaped. “I came to help you. If you need me, then I belong here. But maybe you should tell me if you want me to stay or go.”

  Her aenti turned her back before saying grudgingly, “I want you to stay. After all, who’ll take care of me if you don’t?”

  Sovilla was torn. She didn’t know if she’d prefer to stay here or return to Lloyd’s. Neither seemed like a gut option. If she had her way, she’d return to Sugarcreek, but with every day that passed, that possibility seemed more and more remote.

  While her aenti went into the kitchen to can more pickles, Sovilla sat on the couch, thumbing through the cookbooks. She tore up a piece of scrap paper to mark recipes that looked good. She picked organic recipes, both because they seemed to do well for Gideon and Fern and because the largest market stand sold organic meats and vegetables, including odd-colored ones. Sovilla couldn’t figure out why people wanted to buy vegetables in such strange colors—orange or green cauliflower, purple asparagus, black carrots, and purple broccoli—but that stand did a brisk business. So it made sense to follow their lead.

  One of the organic cookbooks had a section on other recipes. Their granolas looked good, and Sovilla hadn’t seen any for sale at the market. Maybe instead of baked goods, she should do that instead. She read through all of the cereal recipes and then flipped the page.

  She’d found it. The perfect recipe. And a totally different angle. This cookbook had a whole section on making organic pet food. Snickers came to mind. Would Isaac buy homemade dog treats?

  Sovilla shook herself. What difference did that make? She wasn’t looking for ways to lure him to her stand. The last thing Wilma needed to hear while she was in the hospital was gossip about Isaac visiting the stand every day. Still, she liked the idea of selling pet food.

  As she added another marker to the cookbook, a loud knock echoed through the house.

  “You’ll have to get that,” Wilma yelled. “The brine’s ready to pour over the cucumbers.”

  Sovilla set the last cookbook on the stack and hurried to the door. An Amish man and his wife stood on the doorstep. Sovilla doubted they’d come to see Wilma, but she didn’t know them.

  “I’m Laban Troyer, and this is my wife, Mary.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Sovilla wasn’t sure if she should invite them in. If it we
re her own home, she’d have done so immediately. But she worried about Wilma’s reaction.

  “My husband’s the bishop,” Mary said.

  Sovilla shifted nervously. Should she explain why she hadn’t attended church since she’d arrived?

  “We’d like to talk to you. Do you have time now?”

  Though the bishop’s smile and words were warm and friendly, Sovilla’s failures made her feel judged.

  Dreading having to be a buffer between Wilma and the bishop, Sovilla opened the door wide. “Please come in.”

  “Danke.” Mary followed Sovilla into the living room.

  The bishop stood in the entryway frowning down the hall to where the phone plugged into an outlet.

  “Laban,” Mary called as Sovilla motioned to the couch. “What’s keeping you?”

  He entered the room and sat beside his wife. “You have electricity here? I assume you’re planning to remove it.”

  “I most certainly am not,” Wilma called from the kitchen.

  The bishop’s bushy eyebrows rose.

  “I’m staying here with my aenti to take care of her after her hip replacement.”

  “I see.” The bishop pulled on his lower lip for a second. “I didn’t realize we had an Amish woman living here, or we’d have come sooner.”

  “No Amish live here except Sovilla.” Wilma’s annoyance spilled into her words. Though she was participating in the conversation, she hadn’t appeared.

  Sovilla had to explain. Keeping her voice low, she explained, “My aenti is Englisch.”

  “She’s left the church?” Mary kept her words as quiet as Sovilla’s.

  Sovilla nodded, although she didn’t really know if Wilma had ever joined.

  “It’s quiet in there. Are you talking about me?”

  Laban cleared his throat. Instead of answering Wilma, he addressed Sovilla. “We received the letter of recommendation from your church in Sugarcreek.”

  “You—you did?” She hoped the bishop didn’t pick up on her consternation. Inside, her mind raced, struggling to make sense of this.

  Mamm wants me to join the church here? I thought she only meant for me to stay with Wilma for a few months.

  Sovilla fought back tears. Had Mamm planned for this to be permanent? I’m never going back to my family?

  “We noticed you didn’t attend church last weekend.” The bishop spoke kindly, but tiny frown lines formed between his brows.

  Sovilla whispered in case Wilma was still listening. “I wasn’t sure how to find out when and where you were meeting. Also, I don’t have a buggy, so I can only attend services in walking distance.”

  Back in Sugarcreek, that would never be a problem. She knew all the families in the community, and several people would have offered her a ride. Here, she wouldn’t mind walking several miles to church, but when Sovilla had asked her aenti about the Amish community in the area, Wilma had gone ballistic. Sovilla hadn’t wanted to stir up trouble so soon after she’d arrived.

  “Hmm.” The bishop smoothed a hand down his beard and looked into the distance. “You do have neighbors not far from the intersection. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind coming up the lane to get you.”

  “I don’t want to be a bother.”

  Mary smiled. “They’d be happy to do it, I’m sure.” Then she laughed. “That is, if you don’t mind being squashed in with their many children.”

  “Not at all.” Sovilla loved children, and she’d be grateful for a way to get to church.

  “Some of them are old enough to drive buggies,” Mary added, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “They might be happy to drive you in a separate buggy.”

  The bishop laughed. “What my wife means is that they have several boys around your age. Only one of them is courting.”

  “I have a boyfriend in Ohio.” Sovilla’s response came out with more stiffness than she’d intended.

  “I’m sorry.” Mary’s repentant expression didn’t reach her eyes, which still brimmed with merriment. “I was only teasing.”

  “Teasing or not”—Wilma burst into the living room—“the last thing I need is boys coming calling while I’m in the hospital.”

  Everyone turned startled eyes in her direction.

  “I’m already fretting about her friendship with one boy at the market. I’m scared to death she’ll get into trouble while I’m not here.”

  “Ach, I’m so sorry I worried you.” Mary’s eyes filled with compassion. “As a mother myself, I know how hard it can be sometimes to trust our children to the Lord.”

  Sovilla clenched her hands, dreading Wilma’s reaction. Mary must have assumed Wilma was religious because she dressed like a Mennonite.

  Her aenti’s face swelled, and she thundered, “First of all, I’m NOT her mother. And, second, I’d never trust God for anything.”

  The bishop and his wife stared at her in shocked silence.

  Then, in a gentle voice, Mary ventured, “I’m sorry you feel that way. I’ve found God to be a very present help in trouble.”

  Tears stung Sovilla’s eyes. Mamm loved that verse. Many times since Daed had passed, she’d quoted it. She often repeated the beginning of that passage as well: God is our refuge and strength. And Sovilla had claimed it often since she’d been at Wilma’s.

  The bishop closed his eyes and seemed to be mumbling a prayer. Then he lifted his head and spoke gravely. “We’ll all watch out for your niece to be sure nothing happens to her. In fact, we could see about having someone come to stay with her if that would ease your mind. And we’ll keep both of you in prayer.”

  “You can keep your prayers.”

  “I’d appreciate them,” Sovilla said.

  Wilma glared at her.

  “Also,” the bishop added, “the boys we mentioned are good boys. You’d have nothing to fear from them.”

  “No boys can be trusted.” Wilma turned her back and headed toward the kitchen. “But I would like you to watch Sovilla.”

  The bishop waited until Wilma had left the room before turning to Sovilla. “We’ll make sure you have a ride to church. It’s a bit of a walk this weekend.”

  His wife tugged on his arm. “We should go now. This might be a good time to catch John to ask him about picking up Sovilla.” She smiled at Sovilla. “I’m sure he’d be happy to do it. He’s one of the most generous men I know.”

  “Danke.” Sovilla disliked asking for help from a stranger. But if she didn’t, she’d have no way to get to church.

  After Sovilla stood to show them to the door, Mary embraced Sovilla. “It may seem difficult at times, but I believe God brought you here for a reason. Keep showing your aenti God’s love, and we’ll be praying.”

  Touched, Sovilla nodded. It had been so long since she’d hugged her mamm or sisters. And now she wondered if she’d ever get to see them again.

  The bishop smiled at her. “We’ll look forward to seeing you in church on Sunday.”

  After she closed the door behind them, tears trembled on Sovilla’s eyelashes. She plodded into the living room and slumped onto the couch.

  If she joined the church here, she’d have to change to the Lancaster-style dress and kapp. She had little money left from Mamm. Not enough to buy or make clothing. But that wasn’t her main concern. She’d no longer belong to Sugarcreek. And she’d look different from the rest of her family.

  Worst of all, though, had been discovering Mamm didn’t intend for her to return. Sovilla had been able to endure life here because she’d been expecting to leave. Her spirits plummeted. Now it seemed she’d be stuck here forever.

  Chapter Ten

  Isaac had gotten through his pebble practice by reminding himself of his conversation with Sovilla in the library. It bothered him to answer her with nods, head-shakes, and facial expressions. Daydreams of speaking in full sentences—the way he did in his mind—spurred him to work harder.

  Then he went out to train Snickers. He’d soon have to give up his new puppies to puppy raisers, but he�
�d chosen to raise Snickers himself from the previous litters. Once she got a little older, she’d have to leave for her formal training. He’d really miss her.

  A buggy pulled up to the barn. Isaac secured the other puppies in one of the play yards and hurried over.

  The bishop? What was Laban doing here? Especially in the middle of the day?

  Wishing he could ask the questions flooding his mind, Isaac waved and helped the bishop by tying his horse to a post. Snickers stood quietly beside the horse.

  Isaac bent to pet her. “G-good dog.”

  “Hello, Isaac. We’re here to see your daed.”

  Isaac motioned for them to follow him into the house. Mamm came from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her black work apron.

  “Laban, Mary, good to see you.” She appeared as puzzled as Isaac. “Come sit down. Would you like some lemonade?”

  Laban wiped a few beads of sweat from his brow. “It is warm out there. Lemonade would be nice. Danke.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Mamm started to the kitchen.

  “We’re actually here to talk to you and John,” Laban said.

  She turned. “Everything’s all right, I hope.”

  “Jah, jah. Just a chance to help someone in need.”

  “We’d be happy to do that.” Mamm tilted her head in Isaac’s direction. “Why don’t you get your daed?”

  Isaac went out to the small shed attached to the barn to collect his daed. “B-bishop.”

  “Laban’s here? Did he say what he wanted?” Daed put down the sandpaper he was using to smooth the top of a small wooden box.

  They sold the boxes to several area gift shops to make extra money. Isaac helped out whenever he could, but taking care of the puppies took much of his time. He helped the family by selling them, but he mainly did it because most of his litters went to be trained as guide dogs.

  Although Isaac should be training Snickers, the two of them trailed Daed into the house. Daed did many charity projects, and the whole family helped, so they’d all hear about it at dinner. For some reason, though, Isaac felt drawn to listen.

  He settled on the bench in the kitchen, close enough to see and hear, but not near enough to be included in the conversation in the living room. He’d rather not face friendly questions from the bishop or his wife.