Their Convenient Amish Marriage

by Cheryl Williford

  His father’s throat worked. “Danki.” His word was as clear as a bell, as if nothing the doctor had said had touched his frail mind.

  But the reality of the doctor’s words hit Leviticus hard. He had to sit, concentrate on keeping his knees from knocking together as he trembled uncontrollably. He’d come home to rekindle his relationship with his father, only to lose him again? Anger welled up. He had no one to blame but himself. This was Gott’s will for Albert’s life. His father seemed resigned to his fate, be it death or surgery somewhere down the road. Somehow, he had to learn to trust Gott in the same way.

  Help me, Lord. Show my vadder favor.

  Verity peddled as fast as she could, her dress and apron soaked and sticking to her from another heavy downfall of rain. She regretted not accepting Otto Fischer’s offer of a ride home from Memorial Hospital, where Albert lay fighting for his life.

  Otto had said Mose had room for her in the cab of his furniture truck and that her bike could be stored in the back until they got to the grove. But no. It wasn’t raining then so she’d stubbornly refused, convinced she needed time to think.

  With the back of her hand, she wiped rain from her eyes. What a fool I am. I would be home already.

  Clara would have picked up the children from her mother’s by now. Faith would be waiting for her, wondering where she was. At five, the little girl wasn’t old enough to really understand the seriousness of Albert’s illness.

  Verity shoved a wet strand of hair out of her eyes and sped up. Like all humans, Albert would someday die. She knew that. The problem was, she loved the kind old man almost as much as she loved her own father and didn’t want to lose him. Mixed in with her own emotions, she didn’t want Albert to die for Leviticus’s sake, as well, and the feeling made her frustrated. He’d left Pinecraft on his own. If he’d come home too late, it was on him, not her.

  Grief and anger added power to her legs.

  Am I mad at Gott? Shaken, she had to admit she was. She could lie to herself, but she wasn’t fooling Him. The Father knew how she felt about Albert’s poor health and the arranged marriage to Leviticus. She lowered her shoulders and sped on, almost blinded by the downpour. Sometimes life made no sense at all. Gott had taken Mark from her, as well as her tiny soh. Would Albert soon rest on that lonely hill on the grove where his wife lay?

  She didn’t bother to wipe the tears streaming down her face. The rain took away all traces of her anguish. She sniffed, stuffed down her bitterness and peddled on. Her damp skirt and the up-and-down motion of her knees made it hard to see eroding potholes in the unpaved road she had to travel back to the grove.

  A vehicle honked behind her. Startled, she splashed through a deep pothole she normally would have seen and avoided. With a bump, she fell over.

  Thanks to the rain pouring down in sheets, it took real effort to untangle herself from the bike and crawl to the edge of the road. Her knee hurt and her palm was bleeding.

  She heard the vehicle door slam shut and looked up. Probably the fool who honked and caused me to fall.

  A long-legged man walked over. “You all right?”

  Ach. She didn’t have to look up. She knew Leviticus’s voice. Why did he have to drive past now? Couldn’t it have been Ulla, or one of the other local grossmammi who often traveled down the lane to buy fruit from Albert or Solomon?

  Thunder clapped overhead. A warning from Gott that He would not put up with any more of her pettiness about Leviticus? She rose like a phoenix out of the ashes, until the toe of her shoe caught one of the spokes of the bike wheel and caused her to fall on her already bloodied knee. Muddy water splashed up in her face, momentarily blinding her.

  “Here. Let me help.”

  Under his drenched hat, was that a smirk on Leviticus’s face? No, but his tone sounded much too amused for her liking. She would have expected him to mock her situation when he’d been a bu, but today? Back then, they’d teased each other mercilessly, but they were grown now.

  She peeked at her grazed knee. Her skin was dotted with ground-in bits of tiny gravel. It was sure to hurt after the thorough cleaning it needed.

  Leviticus extended his hand toward her. His fingertips dripped with rain. She pondered her dilemma. Surely, the sin of pride wouldn’t keep her sitting in a mud puddle? Anger and frustration warmed her face, but she reached out and accepted his firm grip.

  She’d ride in the old truck with him, but that didn’t mean she had to talk to him. She had nothing to say. Not a word. Gott kept reminding her that He, in His loving mercy, required her to forgive Leviticus for the past, but He’d said nothing about her having to like the man.

  “I thought you got a ride home with Otto.” Leviticus hoisted her into the truck’s front seat with a grunt.

  “Nee, I’d ridden my bike into town and couldn’t just leave it at the hospital.” You’re beginning to lie much too easily. “It wasn’t raining when I started off.” At least that much was true. She avoided his gaze, seething inside. Ya, I know, Gott. I must find my way out of this mess without harming my walk with You.

  Leviticus deposited her bike in the truck’s rusty bed with ease, as if the ancient bike weighed less than nothing.

  The driver’s side door opened, and he dashed in and buckled his seat belt. Rain and mud dripped off them both, and onto his truck seats and floor mats. Her grumpy mood allowed a measure of satisfaction at the mess being made. Thoughts totally unworthy of a Plain woman.

  Busy buckling up, she imagined how disappointed Gott must be in her, especially when Leviticus handed her a soft white handkerchief and said, “Press that against your knee. It’s clean.”

  “Danki.” His kind act made her feel even more mean-spirited and worthy of Gott’s punishment. She sucked in her breath as the cloth touched her skin.

  “If I were you, I’d clean that scrape really well when you get home.”

  “I will.” Did he think her a bensel? She was a mother, after all. She’d become an expert at cleaning scrapes and bumps.

  He’s been nothing but nice to you since he came home. Did her conscience always have to be right? Couldn’t she get away with one harsh thought without feeling petty?

  “More rain is the last thing the grove needs.” Leviticus clicked on the windshield wipers, flipped on the truck’s turn signal and roared off down the road.

  Pinecraft had experienced many hurricanes, but this last one seemed far worse than the others to her. It had lingered over the tiny community, demonstrating a will of its own while destroying property and people’s lives without apology or signs of remorse. What the main brunt of the wind and downpours hadn’t decimated, the residual rain bands forecasted for the next few days would finish off.

  Leviticus pulled into the drive and stopped close to the farmhouse. He turned off the engine and unbuckled his seat belt as his head turned toward Verity.

  Dealing with daunting thoughts, Verity watched the windshield wipers slow and then come to a stop before she realized they’d arrived at the farm. She needed to get inside, wanted to get away from Leviticus more than she’d ever wanted anything. The man kept her in a maelstrom of self-pity and bitter, confused emotions. But before she could reach for the door handle, he stopped her with the touch of his hand on her arm. “Wait. Before you go in, I need to talk to you in private.”

  Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she unpinned her drooping prayer kapp and laid it in her lap. “Our dochders haven’t seen us since yesterday. Perhaps another time would be better.”

  He drew back his arm. “Give me five minutes, Verity. Please.”

  With a swipe of her hand, she pushed strands of wet hair off her face before daring a glance Leviticus’s way. His hair was wet and plastered to his head like a pale skullcap. Holding his gaze, she was taken aback by the look of sincerity in his eyes. Her resolve to be distant and direct with him crumbled. It was early morning. Clara could han
dle Naomi’s feeding. Faith, most likely, was still asleep. “Five minutes,” she agreed and waited for his words.

  “I know you’re upset by Otto’s crazy plan.”

  “Upset? I think revolted is a far better word. Why did you suggest there might be a chance we’d court again?” There’s no reason to be cruel. “I’m sorry. That was mean-spirited of me and totally unnecessary.” She lowered her head. “I wasn’t prepared...didn’t imagine you’d mention my name to Otto and that he’d come up with such nonsense as a marriage of convenience. Do he and Albert really expect us to marry without so much as a private conversation between the two of us? There have to be far better choices.”

  “He misunderstood what I was trying to say when I spoke your name. He’s growing older. Don’t blame Otto for the mistake. I should have made my intent clear. Remember, he only wants what he feels is best for us.”

  “Ya, well, if someone had bothered to ask me, I would have told them I have no plans to ever remarry.” Verity pulled her wet skirt away from her stinging knee. She yearned for a long hot bath. Sweet-smelling shampoo.

  I’m not going to marry Leviticus Hilty. Not anyone. Period. If he needed a wife so badly, she could think of a half-dozen maidals and widows who were interested in marriage.

  As if reading her thoughts, he spoke. “Otto wants you for my wife, plain and simple. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t have any say in the matter, either.”

  Verity could feel heat rising past her neck and into her cheeks. “And you? Am I not gut enough for you now that you’ve experienced the Englischer world?” Her fingernails cut into the palms of her hands. Why did I say that?

  He rubbed the side of his nose. Remained silent. Finally, he spoke, his words coming slow. “I feel the same about marriage. I’m not ready, but it seems Otto’s not going to accept any option but his own.” He glanced her way. “But like you said, it won’t work between us.”

  The words why not? almost came out of her mouth, but she stifled them and swallowed hard before she made another blunder. The last thing she needed was him thinking she wanted to be his fraa, and a mamm for his kind. “You must know my decision not to marry has nothing to do with Naomi. She’s a lovely kind. Any woman would be blessed to have her as their boppli.”

  “Not every woman.” His tone grew hard, his eyes narrowing. “Some women love their profession more than they love their own kinner.”

  That haunted look was back in his eyes. An aching ball in the pit of her stomach told Verity she didn’t dislike Leviticus quite as much as she thought. In that moment, she hurt for him. Hurt for tiny Naomi... But certainly not enough to make them her familye. She’d help him find a wife. Someone who could love him. But that was all she’d do.

  She took in a deep breath and prayed for guidance silently. “I’ve been thinking. Your daed is fond of me. Perhaps he suggested to Otto that we wed. Albert knows you’ll need someone to help you through the difficult times if he passes and wants to tie you down to the grove, so you’ll stay. Solomon loves the land. But you? I don’t think Albert’s so sure you’ll stay unless you have a good reason.” She tipped her head down, concentrating on the mud chunks and splatter on her plain black shoes. She couldn’t look him in the face and say harsh words. Not with that hound dog expression in his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I won’t marry you, Leviticus. I—I can’t.”

  “Perhaps we could pretend to court. The pretense doesn’t have to end in marriage. Lots of couples end their relationships before their wedding dates.”

  She raised her head. “I’ll simply tell Albert I’m not ready to remarry and he’ll understand.”

  “Will he?” Leviticus’s frown made him look as doubtful as she felt. “He didn’t seem to be thinking too clearly today. The stroke’s affected his mind. And as for Otto, he always gets his way. If I’m willing to sacrifice a short period of time for Daed and pretend, why can’t you?”

  Verity all but sputtered, her annoyance growing with each word out of his mouth. “You make it sound like spending time with me would be a sacrifice you’d have to endure. A bitter pill to swallow.”

  “That’s not exactly what I meant.” He ran his hand through his pale wet hair, leaving plowed furrows.

  “Not your exact words, but close enough.” Verity clasped the door handle. “I’m the hired help, the paid housekeeper, remember? Nothing more.” She opened the truck’s door. Rain blew in, drenching her again. “I’ll continue working until I’m no longer needed, and then Faith and I will leave.”

  “Where will you go?” he called after her. “Back to your parents’ home just as they’re ready to retire?”

  Yes, she would have to go home. And her going home would disrupt her parents’ future as they got older. They still had young kinner in an already crowded house. The reality of her situation didn’t sit well with her, making her reply sharp. “My future is my business, Leviticus. Not yours.” She stepped out of the muddy truck. “Find yourself another sacrificial lamb!”

  As she trudged toward the door, she dealt with reality. She had no choice but to obey the community’s Ordnung rule of obedience to authority, and Otto certainly was her authority.

  She hurried in, wanting to be away from Leviticus. A strong gust of wind caught the door as she stepped into the house, slamming it behind her, right in Leviticus’s face. At least he couldn’t blame her for the gesture. Or would he?

  Chapter Eight

  Leviticus swung the door open and hurried in, the wind-driven rain wetting the great room’s wooden floor. He worked on checking his rising temper. Waves of anger rolled over him. He’d had a hard time dealing with drama of any kind since the war. The smallest things could set him off, cause him to lose his temper. Be calm. Don’t say more than is needed.

  He understood where Verity was coming from. He didn’t blame her. Not really. He had no right to expect her to go along with a pretend engagement or unwanted wedding. They were virtual strangers now, and marriage was forever for the Amish.

  A troubling thought hit him. Perhaps Verity has a reason for not wanting to court. Did she already have someone she was fond of? But what difference did it make to him? He had no intentions of marrying, and certainly not Verity. He wasn’t gut marriage material, and not fit for any woman for that matter. He was damaged goods. A life alone was what he deserved. But what about Naomi and her need for a mamm?

  Wise up, Leviticus. Verity’s a fine woman. Why wouldn’t someone be interested in her by now? She’s not for you. You gave up your chance long ago and now it’s much too late.

  He found Verity and an Amish teenage girl he didn’t recognize standing by the table. Verity’s expression had softened. Faith came running past him, her arms outstretched toward her mother. The child’s blue eyes sparkled with joy. “Mamm! I thought you were gone forever.”

  Shut out, he watched as Verity knelt and scooped up her daughter, holding her close to her heart. Her rain-soaked clothes saturated Faith’s plain cotton nightdress, but the kind didn’t complain or pull away. She held on to her mother for dear life.

  “I’d never leave you, liebling. You know that. I was with Albert. He’s sick again and needed me.”

  “I don’t want him to go live with Jesus.” Faith’s lip trembled, her blue eyes were big, round and earnest.

  “Who told you such a thing?” Verity glanced over her shoulder, her gaze resting on the gangly, freckled-faced teenager standing a few feet away.

  “Aenti Irene came to help with Naomi. A minute ago, I heard her tell Clara that Albert might die.” The little girl clung to her mother’s neck. “Is it true?”

  Saying nothing, Leviticus bent to remove his filthy boots at the back door.

  “I’m sorry for my schweschder’s foolish words, Leviticus. She had no right speaking to anyone about your daed’s condition. She’s old enough to realize this kind of conversation is best left for adults.”

&
nbsp; “Faith would have overheard someone soon enough,” he stated matter-of-factly. Death had become black-and-white to him since the war.

  Verity laid her kapp on the kitchen table and adjusted her bun once again. “Ya, sure. She probably would have, but in the right way and at the right time, from me.” Verity shot another accusing look at her sister, who ducked her head in shame.

  “Is there a good time to learn of a loved one’s impending death?” Leviticus padded across the room in his rain-soaked socks, past Verity and the red-faced teen who was a younger blond-haired version of Verity. His mind was trying to concentrate on things eternal. He needed to pray, ask God to touch his father before he lost him forever. And he needed to pray for himself, too. And for Solomon, his familye and the grove. As for the foolish arrangements made by Otto? They’d figure something out eventually. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

  A headache beginning, he rubbed his temples as he moved down the dark hall toward his bedroom. His mamm’s sewing room door stood open and a young man came strolling out, whistling, his bright red hair and freckled nose a sure sign he was another of Verity’s kin, perhaps her younger brother. The teen wore traditional Amish garb, but his coppery hair was shorter than most Amish boys’. Enjoying rumspringa, no doubt. “You’re kin to Verity, if I remember correctly. Your name’s Joel?” He took the bu’s extended hand and they exchanged firm handshakes.

  “Ya, I’m Joel, Verity’s youngest bruder. And you’re Leviticus, Albert’s youngest, too.”

  “I am.”

  Joel placed a battered baseball cap on his head and shoved up the brim. “Mom told me about your daed’s illness. I hope he gets better soon. Albert’s a gut mann. I got to know him when he coached our baseball team when I was a young bu.”

  Leviticus nodded. There were so many things he didn’t remember about his father. The man’s love of sports was one of them. He shoved his shaking hands in his pockets and cleared his throat, his stomach roiling, his head pounding. “Ya, he’s a fine man.”