Their Convenient Amish Marriage

by Cheryl Williford

  Almost an hour later, Albert was moved from ICU and put into a room on the third floor. He and Solomon had been asked to wait outside the room while their daed was hooked up to a fresh IV and monitor. They’d been told there were more tests to be run before they could be sure whether it had been another ministroke.

  Footsteps sounded down the hall. Solomon’s head lifted.

  Leviticus glanced up, expecting it to be Otto rejoining them. He’d gone downstairs for coffee. But when he looked, he saw Verity threading her way past a large family crowding the hallway. She appeared stressed, her usual tidy appearance forgotten. Just what she needs. Something else to stress over.

  “I left the kinner with Clara and got a ride with Mose. Is there any news?”

  She was pale and shaking. Leviticus could see Verity’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point.

  Always thoughtful, Solomon patted the chair next to him and slid his arm around Verity’s shoulders when she sat.

  Leviticus balled his fists, not liking the familiarity of his brother’s touch. Verity was a widow; she was to be treated with respect. Strong feelings of protection washed over him, not that he had any claim on her. She was her own person, someone who’d forgotten him and married another man. Had he expected her to wait until he got his head screwed on tight?

  He calmed himself. His brother was being compassionate, not flirtatious. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder brought on strange and bewildering moods and added internal drama he had a hard time understanding.

  Solomon spoke in hushed tones. “Nee, there’s no news yet. But I’ve seen this before with Daed. He’s had another stroke.”

  A tear trailing down Verity’s cheek. She lifted her shoulders in a half shrug. “Ya, I thought as much. Mose Fischer said Albert was unable to use his right side. Was the damage to the grove so devastating that the sight shocked him?”

  Leviticus waited for Solomon’s reply. He knew their bickering back and forth was responsible for their father’s sudden stroke.

  “The crop’s in a bad way.” Solomon massaged the back of his neck with long fingers caked in mud. “But that’s not what set Daed off. It was Leviticus and I arguing. We didn’t agree on replanting trees.” His forehead furrowed with emotion.

  Rekindled regret? Leviticus was dealing with plenty of regrets of his own.

  Leviticus spoke up. “Daed said the trees should come out and be replanted. I found fault in his wisdom and said so. I suggested we plow up the land and plant hay as some are doing around the state.”

  Verity rubbed her temples. “Is it possible your daed is right? Can the grove be saved?”

  Leviticus didn’t care if Solomon wanted to hear his opinion again or not. “Ya, Daed was probably right. The grove could be replanted. It’ll just take more work. Most of the serious damage is in the small grove on the east. Fresh dirt can be brought in to strengthen the roots and keep fungus away. We can plant peach and plumb trees where the soil’s been eroded.”

  Solomon bristled. “Is this your Englischer wisdom, Leviticus? Daed’s plan is sound, but do you have any suggestions on how we’ll pay for all this replanting and soil replacement?”

  “I didn’t tell Daed yet, but I have money saved.”

  “We don’t need your Englischer money.” Solomon’s glare was challenging.

  Overwrought, both men slipped out of their chairs and circled each other like birds of prey.

  Verity rose and touched Leviticus on the shoulder. “If this is how you two acted today, no wonder your daed had another stroke.” She pointed to the chairs behind them. “Both of you sit down and gather your wits.”

  Like a wayward child, Leviticus sat, and Solomon soon followed his lead. Verity was right. He and Solomon swiping at each other only compounded their problems. What fools they’d been. “I’m sorry, Solomon. Forgive me.”

  “Ask Gott to forgive you, Englischer. I have no pity for you. I only have pity for my daed. The grove is ours. Not yours. You never loved the land like Daed and I. We’ll figure this out without you once you’re gone and he’s well enough. Go back to where you came from. There is no inheritance here for you, no one to cling to.”

  “Was ist letz?” Otto’s brows snapped together as he approached, his frustration showing in his tone and stance. He stood near them, feet planted wide apart. “Is it not enough that you put your vadder in the hospital? Do you want to kill him, too? No more squabbles.” He threw up his arms in frustration. “Who is right and who is wrong? Such foolishness out of two grown men! Stay seated and be silent.”

  Leviticus buried his hands in his hair, struggling to pull himself together. Everything Solomon had said was true. How could he expect him to understand his restlessness back then? He couldn’t understand it himself.

  But he had changed since the war. Death all around had a way of making what was important crystal clear. His faith, his familye and the grove were important now. His newly found desire to put his faith in the Lord had pulled him home, and he was bound and determined to stay in God’s will this time around. The grove would continue. “You’re right, Otto. This is no time—”

  “Albert is all that matters now,” Otto interrupted. “Both of you must work together to keep his dream alive. He needs a reason to live.” The old bishop shrugged, his broad shoulders drooping. “Once he’s gone, you two can fight over the land and settle your difference any way you like. But for now, there will be peace.” His tone was serious, his look penetrating.

  Solomon held Otto’s gaze, hostility draining from his face. “Ya, we both hear. No more fighting. This is a time for prayer and renewed hope. Forgive me.”

  Leviticus tugged at his collar, smoothed down the front of his dirt-smeared shirt. He watched tears well up in Verity’s eyes, but then she turned away, displeasure for him written in the wrinkles on her forehead. He could always find a way to disappoint her without even trying. “I’m sorry for acting such a fool, Verity.”

  Otto gave both men a frosty appraisal. “Has the doctor returned with results?”

  Verity turned back, her eyes glistening with tears. “Nee, there’s no news.”

  “Then we sit and wait.” Otto slid into a narrow chair and made himself comfortable.

  Leviticus didn’t need test results to know what was wrong with his father. He’d seen it before in Afghanistan. Stress did terrible things to a body. His father was under a burden too heavy for any man his age to carry. He’d had a stroke all right, but just how bad a stroke had yet to be proven.

  The clock on the wall ticked off each passing second, though each seemed an hour long. Leviticus finally asked, “The children? How are they?”

  “They’re gut. Clara promised to take them to my mudder and schweschders to be seen to.”

  “Danki.” Leviticus bent his head low, listened to the heartbeat of the hospital. Were these his father’s last hours? Only Gott knew for sure, and He was being very silent.

  Have mercy on my father, Lord.

  * * *

  Verity slipped into Albert’s dimly lit hospital room alone. She’d left Solomon and Leviticus to deal with the bishop’s anger.

  She paused just inside the hospital room, letting her eyes adjust before shutting the door behind her. One by one, she took halting steps toward the single bed in the middle of the room. The nurse had instructed her not to wake Albert if he was asleep. Was she prepared to see him paralyzed? Unable to walk and talk?

  She took three more hesitant steps. Pale, his breath shallow, Albert lay on his back, deep in sleep under a white sheet and a lightweight blanket of pale blue cotton. The oxygen tube positioned under his nose hissed. He snored lightly, the familiar sounds giving her a measure of comfort. The monitor on the wall showed his heartbeat was strong, but sometimes erratic. He looked almost serene—but what did she know about recovering from strokes, heart attacks and such matters? Nothing. An hour ago, she’d
read a pamphlet about heart disease and strokes, but its words did little to reassure her. Instead, they scared the life out of her.

  She glanced around Albert’s bed. He was connected to lines plugged into the machines that buzzed and clicked around him. There must be a way to keep his blood pressure under control at home, so this won’t happen again. Her hand trembled as she touched his arm, the side of his face. He felt warm, not cold and clammy as she’d expected.

  Years ago, her mamm had had problems with high blood pressure while pregnant with Mary, the fourth of her mamm’s dochders. But her problems had been nothing as serious as this.

  During that time Verity had become familiar with beeping heart monitors and at-the-ready call buttons that worked much like Englischer phones.

  She sighed, longing to talk to Albert, needing to know he was all right.

  Light from the hall momentarily flooded the room. She glanced around and saw Leviticus slip in. She stepped deeper into the shadows. His gaze sought out his father. He moved forward, slow and steady. She couldn’t tell what his expression was, but she heard him sniff, as if he was holding back tears.

  Not wanting to intrude, she stayed at the foot of the bed and quietly lowered herself into the hardback chair against the wall. Had Leviticus seen her when he’d come in? She didn’t think so. Let him have his moment with his daed. He deserves that much.

  “I’m sorry, Daed.” His voice cracked and was barely audible. “Please don’t die. I need you in my life...in Naomi’s.”

  Verity’s heart skipped a beat. As Leviticus moved to touch Albert, she rose, placing a hand on his arm. “Don’t wake him. The nurse said he needs his sleep.”

  Leviticus whirled round, a hand reaching for his heart. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

  “Nee, I didn’t think so.” She gave a half smile. She’d scared him like he used to scare her a hundred times a day as kinner. Their relationship had always been fraught with teasing words and battle cries. Today was no different.

  “My words were private. Meant for my father.”

  Shame on you, her conscience murmured. She lost her smug, self-satisfied smile, ashamed. He’s dealing with his father almost dying, and here you are starting up a cat-and-mouse game from the past. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.”

  A scant smile turned up his lip. “It was, but it was so like the old Verity I knew.” His expression turned serious again. “How does he look to you?”

  She moved over to the head of the bed, leaving a gap between them. “He’s a shade pale, but otherwise looks gut to me, like he’s going to wake up at any moment and ask what all the fuss is about.”

  “I thought he looked gut, too. I wondered if it was just my wishful thinking.” He chuckled ruefully, his hand rubbing at the rough stubble on his chin. “When do you think the doctor will be back?”

  “Probably not until morning, unless the tests they just did reveal something sinister.” She put her hand on Albert’s bed. She needed to feel a connection to the sick old man.

  “Do the nurses know we’re still waiting for answers?”

  She smoothed out the sheet under her fingers. “Ya, they know. Last time it took two days to finish all the tests and get back most of the results.”

  He took a step closer to be heard by Verity. “What exactly are they looking for?”

  His breath brushed past her, tickling her neck. “They’re trying to figure out why he keeps having strokes.”

  Leviticus moved away from her. “It’s me coming home so suddenly, isn’t it? I should go, find someplace else to raise Naomi.”

  “Nee!” Albert’s word was soft and slightly slurred, but he managed to get his point across.

  Leviticus bent, his fingers reaching for his father’s limp hand.

  “Di u sell er?” Albert pushed out the slurred words, his face contorted.

  “No, Daed! Don’t talk. The nurse wants you to remain quiet. You need rest. Go back to sleep.” Tears rolled down Leviticus’s face and dropped onto the front of his mud-spattered shirt.

  “Ell er!” Albert lifted his left arm and let it drop.

  “Tell me what?” Verity’s heartbeat kicked up and began to race. What could be so important that Albert demand she be told?

  Leviticus stiffened. “He’s confused, doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

  Albert’s hand lifted inches off the bed, his finger pointing Verity’s way.

  Verity tugged at Leviticus’s arm. “Tell me what you’re holding back. You’re upsetting him.”

  “Are you sure, Daed?”

  Albert blinked rapidly.

  “Just remember I tried to stop this foolishness.” Leviticus tugged at his shirt collar, undid a button at the neck of his throat. He didn’t look directly at her as he spoke. “Otto has a plan and Daed agrees with him.”

  A funny sensation hit the pit of her stomach. Clara had heard correctly. She knew what Leviticus was about to say. “What plan?”

  He cleared his throat, and then spoke loud enough for his father to hear, too. “Otto has decided it’s best we marry for the children’s sake.”

  “I can’t believe you’d even consider...” She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow. Dry mouthed, she forced her tongue to form the words screaming in her head. “There’s no way I’m marrying you.”

  “Ya.” Albert stumbled over the word, but it was clear this marriage was what he wanted for them.

  Verity considered Leviticus’s expression and saw the same trapped emotions she was feeling. She became aware of her body trembling, rocking back and forth. Uncontrolled tears coursed down her face, into her ears. “This is your will for my life, Albert?” She held her breath. He nodded. Her heart sank.

  Hysteria bubbled just under the surface. There was no way she would marry Leviticus Hilty. Not even for their kinner. She had her little girl’s future to think of, and the man standing in front of her would have been her last choice. Leviticus hadn’t changed. He’d never been dependable.

  There had to be a way out. She went to speak, but nothing came out. She wasn’t going to upset Albert. For now there was nothing to do but shut up and play along. At least until she found a way out of this insanity. Certainly, Albert wouldn’t expect her to go through with the wedding once he was better and thinking clearly.

  Breathless, she whispered, “If that is what you want, I’ll marry your soh.” Deep inside, she knew. Oh, yes. She knew. This marriage to Leviticus would never happen.

  Chapter Seven

  Albert’s hospital door opened. Leviticus rose from the chair he’d retreated to. His gaze followed a tiny, dark-haired woman as she flipped on the overhead light and walked in the room with Otto by her side. A cream-colored chart tucked under her arm and a black stethoscope dangling from her oversize lab coat pocket told him who she was.

  Solomon, who had slipped in moments before, appeared to be surprised, no doubt by the attending physician’s gender. Leviticus’s army experience had taught him women in the Englischer world could rise to high position and rank. He’d risk a guess the young, attractive woman standing a few feet away was the head cardiologist they’d all been waiting for.

  Otto shuffled to the foot of the bed, his black hat in hand. The paleness of the old bishop’s skin and the serious expression on the doctor’s face told Leviticus more than he wanted to know. A trembling raced down his spine. The doctor must have told Otto the worst before coming in to talk with Albert. Tough as he was, Otto kept taking in deep breaths, like he was having trouble holding in his heartbreak.

  Leviticus observed his father. Was the shrunken, blue-skinned old man of Gott ready to hear what was coming? How could he be? No one was prepared for bad news, no matter what their age.

  His gaze swept to Verity. She stood tall and straight, and altogether too lovely for the heartache about to be heaped on her. A nerve ticked in her
cheek, proving she was seething with anger. Without a doubt, the strong Amish woman would put a stop to Otto’s wedding plans the first chance she got. She was no one’s fool. Even he knew he wasn’t good enough for her.

  Solomon stepped forward, avoiding his brother’s gaze. “Doctor Wendell?”

  “Yes.” She approached, her small-boned hand extended. “You must be Albert’s youngest son, Leviticus. He’s been asking for you.”

  Solomon’s face blanched. With a scowl, he gestured his brother’s way. “Nee. He’d be Leviticus.”

  “Doctor Wendell.” Leviticus took the doctor’s extended hand. Her grip was strong as any man’s.

  She glanced around, taking in the number of people in the small hospital room. “Perhaps I could have some privacy with you and your brother.”

  He looked at his father, waiting for a cue from him. Did he want everyone to know about the seriousness of his health? Albert lay still and quiet, his eyes opened and focused. Leviticus nodded. “We’re all family here. You can speak freely.”

  Doctor Wendell directed her words to his father. “Our test results show you’ve recently had multiple ministrokes. There’s also evidence of a past silent heart attack that’s left one of your heart’s ventricles slightly damaged.”

  He kept an eye on his father’s facial expression as he took in her words. Optimism turned to resignation.

  “I’m sorry, but we can’t do bypass surgery on you. Your body’s been weakened by undiagnosed type two diabetes and mild kidney failure, which we need to get under control before we make any further plans.”

  Solomon stood by their father’s bed, his hand clutching Albert’s. Leviticus thought he saw Verity sway, but she quickly righted herself.

  He realized he’d been holding his breath and took in a raspy gulp of air. The room tilted. Tiny dots of light blurred his vision. That’s right, Sergeant. Faint at the foot of your father’s bed.

  “I wish I had better news, Mr. Hilty, but I’ve consulted with several of the on-staff cardiologists. We all agree. Perhaps in time, six months or more, we can operate, but for now we want you to heal and become stable.”