Runaway Amish Bride

by Leigh Bale

  Inside the barn, the scent of animals and fresh straw filled his nose. He lit a lamp and tossed feed to the cows. While they munched contentedly, he set a milking stool beside one of the black-and-white Holsteins. Bucket in hand, he eased himself onto the stool and leaned his head against the animal’s warm side as he began his morning ritual. He’d moved on to the second Holstein when Abby slipped into the barn.

  “Guder mariye, Jakob,” she said, her face glowing with a shy smile.

  “Good morning, Abby. You slept late today,” he said.

  A glaze of doubt filled her eyes, and she twined her fingers together in front of her. He had learned that this was a nervous gesture she did whenever she feared retribution.

  “I’m sorry. I... I’ll get up earlier in the future,” she said.

  He snorted and spoke softly, so she would know he wasn’t angry. “Ach, no need to fret. I think you could use a rest. No one can fault how hard you work.”

  Her tensed shoulders relaxed just a bit, and she retrieved a clean bucket and stool. Sitting beside the cream-colored Jersey, she started milking. The whoosh-whoosh sounds of the milk spraying into the buckets had a calming effect, and they didn’t speak for several minutes.

  “Are you helping Mamm bake pies today?” he finally asked, knowing tomorrow was Friday and bakery day.

  “Ja, and a strawberry swirl sheet cake with white icing. Sarah Yoder said it’s a special order. One of the Englischers wants it for their daughter’s birthday party tomorrow evening. Naomi is going to decorate it with clouds and balloons. It’ll bring in double the normal price.”

  Not that it would cost the Englischer a lot. They charged only what was fair, never allowing greed to enter into the equation. That was one reason the bakery was so popular among the Englisch. Their prices were so reasonable.

  “Gut.” He chuckled, then paused before broaching the question on his mind. “Abby, I’m sorry to pry, but there’s something I’d like to ask you. It’s rather personal.”

  “What do you want to know?” she asked.

  She kept milking, barely looking up...a sure sign that she wasn’t as skittish around him anymore. In fact, he thought they were becoming good friends.

  He took a deep inhale, remembering what Naomi had told him several days earlier. Even now, he still felt furious and tried to remember that Gott expected him to be patient and kind no matter what. “Did Simon or your father beat you with a whip or a strap?”

  She jerked, so suddenly that the Jersey cow shifted her weight restlessly and swung her large head around to look at Abby with round, dark eyes.

  Abby stared into her bucket, her bent head appearing so sad and forlorn. At first, Jakob thought she was still milking, but he couldn’t hear the whooshing sounds anymore. He’d upset her with his question, but he had to know. He resisted the urge to stand and take her into his arms and comfort her.

  “Why...why do you ask?” she said, her voice sounding small.

  He shrugged. “Mamm mentioned that she’d seen some old scars on your shoulders. You told her they were from an accident, but she said the marks looked like someone had whipped you. She’s just worried about you. So am I.”

  There. He’d admitted it to her. No taking it back. And yet, the confession came so easily, which surprised him. He told himself that he cared about this woman the way he cared about all of Gott’s children. That was all. And yet, he knew what he felt for Abby was a bit more than that.

  “It’s over and done with. I’d rather not discuss it now,” she whispered.

  So. Maybe they weren’t as good friends as he had hoped. But her response answered his question well enough, although he still didn’t know what had happened, or if it had been her father or Simon who had beaten her. And though it no longer mattered, he wished she would confide in him. He sensed that bottling up what had happened inside herself would prevent her from healing fully. She needed to let it out. To talk about it with someone who cared. He was just glad that she was far away from the people who had once abused her. All Amish tried to follow the Savior’s loving example by shunning acts of violence. For this reason, he didn’t understand how Simon could be so cruel to his sister yet still call himself a man of faith.

  She returned to her milking, ignoring their conversation. From his angle, he could see the backs of her arms flexing rhythmically as she milked the cow.

  “Are you going to the singing with Martin on Sunday evening?” Jakob purposefully changed the discussion by addressing another uncomfortable topic that was weighing heavily on his mind.

  She missed a beat in her milking, and the Jersey stomped a foot in agitation. “I... I don’t think so.”

  He hesitated, wondering what he should say. A part of him knew it wasn’t good for her to hide out here on the farm. She should mingle with others of their faith. But another part of him didn’t want her to socialize with other men. He was being selfish again.

  “I don’t want to interfere, but Martin is a gut man. You should go with him,” he said, forcing himself to be magnanimous.

  “He...he comes on a bit too strong for me,” she said.

  “Ja, but he means well. You always know where you stand with Martin. He is strong in his faith and would be a good provider to whomever he marries. The more time you spend with him, the more you’ll get used to him.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him with a doubtful glint in her eyes. He didn’t want her to leave anytime soon, but her welfare and happiness meant more to him than his own self-seeking desires.

  “I’ve already told him I’m not interested in being anything more than friends,” she said, turning back to her work.

  The Jersey jostled against her and gave a mournful moo, as though eager to be finished with this chore. Abby patted the cow’s side in a reassuring gesture.

  “That is too bad. You’re young and should have some fun. You won’t know if you really like him unless you go with him more,” he suggested.

  “I... I’d rather not.”

  Jakob read between the lines. Abby didn’t trust men and feared Martin might be assertive like her father and brother.

  “If it helps, I have never heard anything bad spoken about Martin or his familye. His mudder and sisters always seem so happy that I don’t believe he or his vadder treat them unkindly,” Jakob said.

  Abby looked up, her eyes wide and filled with suffering and angst. Then it was gone and she smiled, hiding her inner feelings. But he knew the truth and longed to comfort her. To tell her she was safe now. But the moment she left his home, he would no longer be able to protect her. And that’s when he realized he didn’t know much about Martin Hostetler either. Not really. Martin had come from Indiana. Jakob’s familye had not known the Hostetlers before they moved to Colorado six years earlier. He thought they were good people, but how could he really know what went on inside the walls of their home when no one was watching? It would require a leap of faith on Abby’s part.

  “I’d rather take it slow. I may never marry at all,” she said, her voice sounding noncommittal.

  He jerked his head up, blinking at her in surprise. Not marry? Ever? The idea was alien to him.

  “You should marry. It is what Gott would want.”

  “I know you really believe that. I do, too. Or at least, I used to. I’m not so sure anymore.”

  Hmm, he didn’t like the sound of that. No doubt she felt that way because of him. She’d come all the way to Colorado, thinking he would become her husband. She didn’t seem to want Martin or any man, which left her with few options. But marriage was a way of life to the Amish. Familye was everything to them. Jakob couldn’t accept anything different. And yet, how could he fault Abby when he was shunning marriage for himself?

  “Of course you will marry one day. Until that time, you have a home here for as long as you want it,” he said.

  Again, she showed a d
oubtful frown, but didn’t say anything. The Jersey gave a low bellow and lashed out with her back hoof, striking Abby against the shoulder. The woman cried out and toppled over her stool, lying on her back on the hard-packed ground.

  “Abby!”

  Jakob scrambled off his stool and crouched over her. She groaned, reaching to clutch her injured shoulder. She breathed hard, her eyes closed.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, grateful the cow hadn’t struck Abby’s head.

  She nodded and opened her eyes, rubbing her shoulder. Gazing up at him, she released a whimsical laugh. “You and I make quite a pair. We keep getting kicked by the livestock. At this rate, we’ll both be black-and-blue before long. Bishop Yoder will wonder what’s going on here at this farm.”

  He chuckled, enjoying her sense of humor. Considering her past, it was good that she could laugh about the situation. The flash of worry he’d felt had left him shaking. He didn’t want to worry about this woman. Didn’t want to care.

  But he did.

  Leaning over her, he pulled several pieces of straw away from her white kapp. Her wide blue eyes met his, and he felt lost in their depths. Captivated. Drawn closer until he kissed her, a gentle caress that deepened for several moments. She lifted a hand to rest against his chest, just over his heart. He breathed her in, then remembered who he was and who she was and that she was not Susan. He jerked back, his face heating up with embarrassment. They gazed into one another’s eyes with startled wonder. And Jakob felt a new awareness sweep over him. Abby wasn’t just a girl from his past. She was now a beautiful woman.

  “Jakob,” she said his name, so softly that he almost didn’t hear her.

  Reality crashed over him and he felt awful for what he’d done, as if he’d taken advantage of her. “I... I’m sorry, Abby.”

  He hurried to his feet and helped her stand, then moved away and folded his arms. He couldn’t meet her gaze. Couldn’t face the disloyalty he felt toward his wife. He’d taken vows with Susan. He’d promised to love her until the day he died. Never once had he been tempted by another woman.

  Until now.

  “That was wrong of me. A lapse in judgment. It won’t happen again,” he said.

  He bent over and picked up his milk bucket, eager to give his hands something to do. Abby was overly quiet, and he wondered what she was thinking. He already knew she didn’t trust men, and he’d just given her a reason not to trust him.

  “Is your shoulder all right? Maybe we should ask Mamm to put a cold pack on it for you,” he said, trying to ease his guilt.

  She nodded, looking flushed and embarrassed as she moved her shoulder carefully to test its soundness. “It’s fine. I suppose I’ll have a bruise, but it’ll be all right.”

  A long, dark silence followed as they gathered up the milk pails and headed toward the house. They didn’t speak, didn’t acknowledge what had transpired between them. Jakob thought that was best. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget what had happened. Nor could he deny that he had feelings for Abby. He was definitely attracted to her, but that wasn’t enough. Not for him, and not for her. Because deep in his heart, he didn’t believe he could ever love her the way he loved Susan. And after everything Abby had been through, she deserved for someone to adore her. But that someone couldn’t be him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Abby took a deep inhale of fresh air before tucking a strand of hair back inside her kapp. Gazing at the wide-open sky, she squinted at the noonday sun, enjoying its warmth on her face. A couple of weeks had passed since Jakob had kissed her in the barn. A couple of weeks that made her feel jittery every time he was near. They hadn’t spoken about the incident since then, and she thought perhaps she’d imagined it ever happened. Now, she wished that she could forget.

  Soft clods of dirt broke beneath her feet as she walked along one wide furrow of the cornfield. Shifting the wicker basket she carried to her other hand, she thought about Jakob’s and Reuben’s lunches tucked inside. Later that afternoon, she would plant tomatoes. Hopefully she would have lots of beans, peas and corn to put up in bottles in August.

  A mild breeze ruffled the green sprouts growing in long rows of the fertile field. Like any farmer, seeing the verdant color of the new plants brought Abby a deep sense of joy and satisfaction. She paused a moment, waiting for Ruby to catch up. The girl hopped over several rows, then came running in her bare feet. The edge of her purple pinafore apron rippled in the wind.

  “There’s Daed and Reuben.” Ruby pointed toward the south corner where Grape Creek bordered the fields. Clutches of purple wild iris grew along the banks.

  Jakob’s father had been wise to buy this farm. It came with deeded water rights and spring-fed water for the livestock. The creek twined its way across their property. Very handy for watering their garden and front lawn.

  Correction. This was Jakob’s property. Funny how she felt as though she belonged here, because she didn’t. Not really. And yet, Abby had done so much work here that she couldn’t help loving this land and caring about the familye that lived here.

  She followed the long row to the end, conscious of Ruby skipping behind. Skirting the edge, she couldn’t help noticing Jakob. And without a word being said, her cheeks flushed with heat as she again remembered the brief kiss they’d shared.

  No! She shook her head, refusing to think of what had happened that day. It would only make her long for things that never could be.

  Dressed in gray broad fall trousers, a blue shirt, suspenders and work boots, Jakob straddled the irrigation gate. His head was bowed as he scooped mud, sticks and grass out of the creek with a shovel. He slopped the black muck against the outer bank, then dug out some more. No doubt the irrigation ditch was clogged.

  Back east, they had much more rainfall to sustain their crops. But here in the West, there was a reason they called the life-sustaining water “liquid gold.” Without it, Jakob’s fields would dry up to dust.

  If all went well, they would harvest the corn in the fall. And then the wedding season would begin. Abby dreaded it. She’d come to Colorado planning to marry. Though she was determined to carry on, she couldn’t help feeling slightly disillusioned. Okay, more than slightly. If she were honest with herself, it had been a huge disappointment.

  “Now?” She heard Reuben ask. Neither he nor Jakob were aware that Abby and Ruby had arrived with their noon meal.

  “Ja, let it go.” Jakob stood back and nodded, looping his free hand around one of his suspenders.

  The boy grunted as he tugged on the metal gate. It finally gave with a low grating sound. A rush of water sped past them, soon filling the small ditch. Tossing his shovel onto the opposite bank, Jakob reached for a hoe and directed the water down a number of corn rows. The cracked earth greedily soaked up the moisture as it sped forward along the furrow.

  Abby watched in fascination. On her brother’s farm in Ohio, they’d used gravity irrigation for the garden and pivot sprinklers for their soybean crops, but they didn’t have to water nearly as often as they did here in the West. At supper last night, Jakob had indicated it would take hours each day for him to water their thirsty crops. And Abby knew an inch of water could make all the difference in doubling their production versus reaping just enough to barely subsist on.

  “Daed, we brought your food,” Ruby called in a cheerful voice.

  Jakob looked up as he pulled several weeds out of the ground and smiled at his daughter. “And just in time, too. I’m ravenous.”

  “Me, too,” Reuben said. He smiled at his sister, but the disapproving frown slid into place when he glanced at Abby.

  Jakob’s gaze shifted to Abby, and she looked away, feeling suddenly flushed with heat. He removed his straw hat and wiped his forearm across his forehead. Abby stood next to him, trying not to notice how his slightly damp hair curled against the back of his neck.

  “The cro
ps seem to be doing well. Every row has sprouted,” she said. Which meant she had planted the seed properly.

  He nodded, a smile curving his handsome mouth. “Ja, and I’m finding very few insects that will harm the corn. We should have a bumper crop this year, but I may need to use an herbicide next year to keep the weeds down.”

  To emphasize his point, he gave a jerk of his hand, pulling another weed out by the roots before tossing it aside.

  “After I’ve planted the garden today, I can help weed,” she offered.

  “I’ll help Daed with the weeding,” Reuben said, his jaw hard as he lifted it slightly higher.

  “I’m sure you’re a big help to your vadder,” she said, trying not to rile the youngster. She still felt bad that her mere presence seemed to rankle the boy so much.

  “I think there are enough weeds for all of us to pull.” Jakob chuckled and tossed another one aside where its roots would dry up in the sunshine. “Let’s sit down.” He gestured toward the bank by the creek.

  Ruby took the basket from Abby and plopped down before opening the lid. “Wait until you see what we brought you.”

  She pulled out a cloth and laid it across the coarse grass, then removed several plastic containers. She grunted as she popped the lid of one and held the dish up for inspection.

  “Chocolate cream pie. Yum!” Reuben said.

  “Ja, Abby made it and I helped.”

  At the mention of Abby’s name, Reuben scowled and looked away. Abby didn’t understand. Sometimes the boy would smile at her, then seem to catch himself and frown instead. During meals or as they were working around the farm. Almost as though he were fighting against himself and purposefully trying not to like her.