Their Convenient Amish Marriage

by Cheryl Williford

  “How can that be?” Clara’s honey-colored eyes widened in surprise. Always nosy, she flicked her kapp’s ribbon behind her shoulder and inched closer to the screen door for a better look. “He’s not anything like the Leviticus I remember. That man’s an Englischer.”

  “Ya, he is, but he’s Leviticus Hilty all the same.” Verity strived to steady herself. Her nerves were jingling like the Christmas bells on Faith’s shoes. Leviticus had returned. So what if he’s returned? He no longer means anything to me.

  Verity watched as Leviticus turned toward the backfield of blown-over citrus trees and moved on. His shoulders rounded, no doubt in reaction to the damage stretched out before him.

  The grove had been slammed by high winds during the recent late-season hurricane. Squalls of heavy rain had flooded field after field until they were all underwater. The house had been spared, for the most part, but the damage to the grove would be considerable, if not devastating, financially. Verity loved the fields of miniature orange trees, this old house, its family. How will the grove survive?

  “Solomon’s not going to like Leviticus’s returning home an Englischer. Even now, when an extra hand is needed and appreciated.” Clara patted her stomach, as if rubbing it would rid her of the concerns that might upset her boppli. “And Albert. Do you think he’ll easily forgive his soh for leaving the faith and never joining the church?”

  “He certain-sure missed him.” Verity forced her fisted hands to relax at her sides. “As far as I’m concerned, Leviticus coming home is exactly what Albert didn’t need. And bringing a kind with him, even though she’ll be a blessing, will bring more problems. We’ve got thirty nosy women in the house, all of whom love to spread rumors. We’ve got to get rid of them as fast as we can. I can hear them now. Albert’s soh is home and has brought shame to the community yet again.” Verity smiled reassuringly at Clara. “You find a way to get rid of the ladies while I deal with this situation.”

  Verity opened the screen door and scooted past. Consternation put a frown on her face. Why had Leviticus chosen now to come home?

  * * *

  Leviticus hurried along, his thoughts scrambled by the funny games God seemed to allow people to play with their lives. His mother’s sudden death, his leaving home, his time at the Amish rescue home, his enlistment into the army. Serving a six-month tour in Afghanistan and nearly dying just days before he was to leave had left him dealing with PTSD.

  He would have never guessed Verity, one of the people he’d hurt the most, would be taking care of his aging father. She was no longer a girl, and he had to admit she looked good. Better than good.

  She’ll never take you back, no matter how forgiving an Amish woman she is. You don’t deserve someone like her. Not after what you did.

  He was still captivated by the spirited Plain woman with coppery red hair and green eyes that sparkled like jewels, but his leftover feelings would have to be crushed.

  She would have been my fraa if I hadn’t left.

  Naomi fussed. His hand trembled as he shaded his daughter’s face from the morning sun. A reminder that his PTSD was kicking up. He had to keep using the stress management techniques he learned in the hospital and take his pills regularly. Naomi was so young and vulnerable. Her whole life lay before her. She had only him. Would he be enough? Was he up to raising a daughter by himself?

  Deep in thought, he ambled toward the rose garden. Memories of his happy childhood flooded in, tugging at his heartstrings. He visualized his mamm clipping off dead rose blooms with care. She’d loved all living things, even him, and he’d seldom earned a day of her devotion.

  Perhaps she’d still be alive if he hadn’t brought shame to their door with his wild ways. He should have joined the church young and been baptized as she’d asked him. But no. He’d had to live the life that suited him best.

  Regret swamped his mind. His father had always held his mother accountable for his inappropriate behavior. Late at night, he’d often heard his parents argue. His older brother, Solomon, never caused tension. Leviticus shrugged in regret and continued to his father’s favorite resting place.

  It broke him to know his mother would never know he’d grown closer to the Lord, straightened out his ways and returned to Pinecraft, where he belonged. With a dochder to bring up, it was far better to return home with tremors from the war than to linger in the Englischer world.

  He took in a deep breath, the scent of the roses reminding him of who he was meant to become. A Plain man, with Plain ways.

  The thick grass underfoot was still marshy from days of torrential rains. He squinted from the bright sun peeking out beneath a cluster of storm clouds. Up ahead his father, Albert, sat in a wooden Adirondack chair, his back to him.

  Leviticus walked up quietly, searching for the words he’d practiced repeatedly, but found he’d lost them to the nerves twisting his gut. “Daed?” he whispered. If only speaking Pennsylvania Dutch would make me Amish again.

  A strong gust of wind carried his word and rushed it toward the sea. He stepped closer, fighting the urge to reach out a hand and touch his father’s silver hair blowing in the breeze. He had no idea how he’d be received. Like the prodigal son, he’d lived with the pigs and eaten their slop for far too long. It was time he faced his past. But doubt crept in. Would he be forgiven? Could he live the Plain life? “Daed.”

  Albert Hilty’s head twisted round, glancing over his shoulder. His smile melted away. A dazed expression crossed his weathered face. He rose with effort, staggering, then reaching out for the arm of his chair. His father’s blue eyes blinked, his countenance growing incredulous. “It’s you, Leviticus? This time I’m not dreaming?”

  “No, Daed. You’re not dreaming. It’s me. Such as I am. I’m home for good if you’ll have me.” Leviticus waited. A sense of peace came over him, edging out the dread he’d felt at the thought of confessing his sins to his father and the bishop. He was glad to be home, glad he didn’t have to deal with the remnants of PTSD alone. He’d needed his family and his growing faith more than he’d realized.

  Albert stumbled forward, arms reaching out. He threw himself at his soh and clung to him in a warm embrace as he kissed his neck, murmuring, “At last you are home.”

  As Albert held him, Leviticus could feel his father’s frail body trembling. A wave of love washed over him. This old man was more precious to him than he’d realized. For a moment, he couldn’t let go. It’s been so long. He’d been so angry. “I’m sorry I left so abruptly. I thought... Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought back then.” His head dropped with shame as his father’s gaze sought his. “I should have come home sooner.”

  “Ya, you should have.” His father nodded in agreement. “Ach, and who is this child between us?” Albert held on to Leviticus’s arm for support, considering the face of his grandchild for the first time. The edges of his mouth turned up into a smile.

  “This is my dochder, Naomi. She’s come to see her grossdaddi.”

  Albert appeared bemused for a moment, his thin, graying brows arching down. His gaze locked with Leviticus’s. “The kind has your mamm’s button nose and her name. This is gut.” He nodded again. “You have a family now. I should have realized you would after all these years.” The old man’s next words rushed out. “Welkom home, Leviticus. You have been sorely missed.”

  “But not by everyone. I’m sure Otto and some of the elders were glad to see the back of me all those years ago.”

  Albert squeezed his son’s arm. “Nee. They prayed for your soul and your safe return home, as I did. But let’s forget all that for now. My soh is home. Gott in His mercy will forgive your past sins if you repent. He who was lost has returned. I care not what others think. Today is a gut day. Komm, let’s go into the haus. I want to get better acquainted with my kinskind.”

  Albert shuffled forward, his steps unsure. Leviticus stayed close. How had Daed gotten so w
eak in a matter of years? When he’d left, his father had been a strong and able-bodied man.

  Leviticus glanced up. Verity hurried to his father’s side, supporting him as he took small steps. He leaned heavily on her for strength. How long had his daed needed help just to walk? Shame raced through him, burned his cheeks. While he’d been busy living his own life, he’d forgotten time hadn’t stood still for his father, or for the grove. Gott forgive me, I should have never left this place.

  “What happened to you, Daed?”

  Verity supported his father by the arm. Her eyes surveyed Leviticus, saying, It’s too late to be concerned now. You should have stayed home.

  Her arm around his waist, Verity assisted Albert up the back steps and through the kitchen door. The old man shuffled over to the table and sat with a loud sigh, then wiped sweat off his face with the swipe of a bandanna he carried in his back pocket.

  Verity stood by the sink, her hand pressed to her throat, a worried frown creasing her forehead. His gaze shifted between her and his father.

  Albert smiled. He spoke, as much to himself as anyone. “That Englischer doctor said I had a stroke a while back.” He shook his head. “Nee. I don’t see how he could suggest such a thing. I can still walk and talk just fine.”

  Leviticus pulled out a chair at the kitchen table next to his father and lowered himself, watching the aged man’s every move, seeing confusion cross his father’s wrinkled face.

  Albert’s age-spotted hand smoothed the tablecloth in front of him. “I’m certain-sure most folks can’t walk or talk after a stroke.” He smiled Leviticus’s way, one side of the old man’s mouth slightly drooping. “Verity can tell you. I’m doing mighty fine for an old man of seventy plus years. Ain’t so?”

  Verity locked eyes with Leviticus and shook her head, encouraging him not to correct his father’s misconceptions. She reheated the coffee she’d made for herself a few minutes before and laced a cup with two scoops of sugar to ward off Albert’s shock. “He’s doing fine now that he’s up and about.” She placed her hand on Albert’s shoulder and set a cup of sweet coffee in front of him.

  “Would you like something hot to drink?”

  “Sure.” Coffee sounded good. Leviticus took off his billed cap and placed it on the table, revealing his windblown, long blond hair that grew down around his collar.

  Verity’s mouth pursed, her disapproval narrowing her green eyes. Once he changed his clothes to Amish and had his hair cut around his ears he’d fit in better.

  There’d been a time when he’d fit in fine, belonged...regardless of how rebellious he’d become. He was one of them. But now? The loss of who he could have been caused his heart to ache. What must Daed be thinking?

  Verity poured another cup of coffee and set the steaming mug in front of him. As she went back to the stove, Leviticus could hear his new sister-in-law ushering the last of the singers out the front door. The pregnant woman’s nervous giggles told him she was doing her best to avoid saying too much about his appearance and the suddenly shortened choir practice.

  A glance at the battery-run clock over the stove told him it was high noon. Solomon would probably be home soon for his lunch. Leviticus feared his return wouldn’t bode well with his hardworking bruder. There’d be enough gossip flying around the community about his homecoming without the ladies spreading tales of a heated argument between him and Solomon.

  Verity swatted wisps of hair away from her forehead and then lowered her head, concentrating on making hearty roast beef sandwiches for the men. Albert slurped his coffee as he always did. Leviticus remained quiet for a moment, observing and remembering. Verity stole a glance his way as the kind in his arms began to fret. Naomi’s pudgy bare feet kicked the air in agitation.

  “She needs a diaper change. Any chance my old room’s still available?”

  “It is.” Verity cut into a ripe tomato and took out all the seeds for Albert’s sandwich.

  Everything was different. Never in a million years had he imagined he would someday come home and have need of a cot for a boppli. Nothing had prepared him for the shock of seeing his father so emaciated. Not even the war.

  “I’ve got a small porta-cot Faith used stored under my bed. I’ll wipe it down and put it up in a minute, just in case she gets sleepy again.”

  Albert’s head bobbed. “Ya. Use your old room, soh, but leave the kind and such things to Verity. She’s had plenty of experience with kinner of all ages. Ain’t so?”

  Verity raised her chin and nodded.

  He was sure she had taken care of many children, but this one was his and another woman’s child. There’d been a time that fact would have hurt her beyond measure. From the glare she was giving him now, Leviticus could see he was no longer important to her.

  “Ya, I’ll see to the boppli, if that’s all right with her daed.”

  Leviticus lifted his shoulders in a half shrug. “I had thought...”

  Albert tugged at his beard, watching him as he shifted Naomi to his shoulder and soothed her.

  “A woman knows what’s best for bopplis. I’m surprised Naomi’s mamm’s not here, seeing to her needs. Will she come later?”

  Leviticus straightened out his daughter’s pink collar. “Nee. Julie’s not coming. She’s a judge advocate of some importance. Her job keeps her busy in Washington. We’re not married, Daed. When Naomi was born, Julie made it clear she wanted nothing further to do with me or our dochder.”

  His daed’s eyebrows shot up. The room became silent, as if time stood still. Albert sat soundlessly digesting Leviticus’s disturbing words. “This woman, Julie. She is Englisch, ya?” He scratched at his beard, his deep-set eyes surveying Leviticus closely.

  “She is.”

  “That explains the lack of a wedding.” Albert took a sip of coffee. “Nee Plain woman would walk away from her kind and leave a mann to care for it. Gut thing you came home. Naomi will be well loved here on the grove.” Albert twisted in his chair, his bony hand motioning Verity over. “Komm, lunch can wait. The boppli needs a woman’s touch.”

  Leviticus’s gaze locked with Verity’s as she lifted the kind from his arms. She nodded, their silent conversation missed by Albert. She would take good care of his child. Naomi whimpered and pushed away as she was taken out of her father’s arms. Without a backward glance, Verity made her way through the kitchen door, into the great room.

  Albert followed his housekeeper with his eyes. “She’s had a hard few years, Leviticus. I think a husband is what she needs. Someone to carry the load of parenting with her. You’ve been away a long time. People change. Just go easy if you have a mind to court her again.”

  Leviticus dropped his head. What his father said was true. He and Verity had been over for a long time. And in the condition he was in, she was off-limits to him. He’d make sure of that. She deserved someone whole. Not a man who fought night terrors and jumped every time he heard a loud noise.

  He couldn’t help but think about the way Verity used to look at him, like he was something special. Today that look had been replaced with indifference, but who could blame her? She had forgiven him for breaking her heart, but not forgotten. He was sure of that. True, it was her nature to forgive. But she wore her heart on her sleeve and always had.

  Yet, it was evident by her disapproving expression that she had no feelings left for him. He was just someone to be tolerated now. He was Albert’s son, but not her lost love.

  Chapter Two

  Leviticus finished the sandwiches Verity had started and served one to his father before settling down with his own. His thoughts stayed on Naomi as he chewed. She was in good hands, but had Verity noticed Naomi was a squirmer? Less than a year old, she needed to be closely watched or she’d be rolling off the bed and onto the floor.

  “Danki, soh.” Albert pulled the well-filled sandwich closer. “There’s chips in the larder, if you ha
ve a taste for them.”

  “Nee. This is fine.”

  “My doctor said no more greasy foods for me, but Verity lets me have baked chips occasionally.”

  “She treats you well, then?” Leviticus’s gaze focused on his father’s pale skin, noticing the way his heart beat fast in a vein on his neck.

  “Ya, Verity treats me special gut.” Albert took a small bite of his sandwich and began to chew.

  In truth, time hadn’t stood still for either of them. His father’s eyes were on him, too, judging what he saw and probably finding fault with his clothes, the scar running down his cheek that screamed violence. But if his father was disappointed, he said nothing as he ate several bites and then pushed his half-eaten sandwich away. “My appetite isn’t what it used to be.”

  “Nee. Mine, either.” Leviticus glanced around the sunny kitchen. Some things remained as he remembered them. The same pot rack held his mamm’s old cookware. The pot holders she’d made from spare quilting blocks hung from the same golden hooks. A familiar set of plastic canisters sat against the back wall on the counter. His mamm’s indecipherable handwriting labeled them as flour, sugar and coffee. Memories of her love and care caused him pain and added regret. She had been a woman of tiny stature, barely the size of a twelve-year-old child. But what she lacked in height, she made up for in spirit and determination.

  He could still picture her scurrying around this room, preparing meals fit for a king. Her spunk kept him out of trouble with the elders during rumspringa. She’d always expected the best from everyone and gave back in kind. But he’d stolen, lied and drank too much during his time of running around, bringing her nothing but disgrace in the end. Shame ate at him, burned his throat. Had the stress been the reason she’d died so suddenly, and not hard work?

  Leviticus stored away his memories. His father didn’t need to see him cry on his first day home. “You want a glass of water?”