Their Convenient Amish Marriage

by Cheryl Williford

  Had Faith’s conversation about his mamm run him off? She never knew for sure what would upset him anymore. He’d changed, become more sensitive, hard to read.

  Lord, help me to help him. I don’t want to wed him, but I hate seeing him so unhappy. Like he doesn’t have a friend to call his own.

  Her own appetite gone, she cleared the table, wiped down the girls and sent them off to play at her feet as she washed the dishes. So much was going on. She couldn’t keep her emotions steady. She looked at the girls, her heart swelling. One thing her mother was right about—these kinner needed both a mamm and a dat. Gut, loving parents was Gott’s plan for a kind’s life. They were to be raised in a home full of love. But there was no love between her and Leviticus. Wouldn’t they be cheating the girls out of a loving environment if they married?

  * * *

  Leviticus was still gone as darkness shrouded the house and groves. Solomon left for the hospital, leaving Clara behind to help finish the supper dishes. Glad Clara and Solomon were still living in the house, Verity smiled as she bathed Naomi and fed her a bottle before bed. After a kiss on her head, she hummed low and sweet, her hand soothing the restless toddler with circular motions on her back. She chose to hum one of Faith’s favorite songs, all the while thinking, Where has Leviticus gone?

  Naomi soon fell asleep, her thumb stuck in her rosebud mouth, but Faith was another matter altogether. Just keeping her in bed was a nightly battle. The child needed a firm hand, a father to stand his ground and show her he meant business.

  Minutes later, stars sparkled as Verity stepped out onto the porch. A fall moon hung heavy in the clear night sky, its beauty there for everyone willing to raise his or her head. Verity stepped farther into night, her old cotton dress glistening in the moonlight. She slipped into her favorite chair, the one Leviticus had made for his mamm before he’d escaped into the Englischer world.

  She covered her bare feet and legs with the hand-crocheted throw Albert’s fraa had made years ago. Tired, she eased back, her sigh soft. Why did life have to be so complicated?

  Verity remained stationed in the rocker, thinking about Faith’s need of a father. Since her daughter had been tiny, she’d fought bedtime. If only Mark were here to set down the law to the cranky little girl... But he wasn’t. An ache tore through her. And he never would be again.

  Through tears, she pushed away her pain and noticed the moon’s glow shimmering on the rim of her tea mug. She lifted the drink and took a long, satisfying sip of the warm brew, then placed the mug on the arm of the wooden chair. She nestled back against the cushion, making another effort to get comfortable. She needed a bit of “me time,” a moment to gather her thoughts and pray before she went to bed. Too much had gone on the last few days. Albert was better, but still ill. She and Leviticus’s arranged marriage still hung in the air like a drifting black spider web ready to snare her.

  Verity sucked in a long, calming breath, determined to find a measure of peace from the near-silent night. Moonlight pooled around her, placing her in a protective cocoon that would bring about a much-needed calm.

  Her lashes dipped. She’d been up since five o’clock that morning. Naomi had woken her with the need of a clean diaper and warm milk. Her day had dragged on from there. There’d been so much drama since Leviticus’s return and Albert’s stroke. How long had it been since she’d slept through the night? She couldn’t remember. Her normally calm nerves were stretched taut, almost to the point of breaking. Verity welcomed the solitude around her, the delicate sounds of the night creatures singing their lonely songs.

  Earlier in the morning, her mother had come by the grove, inquiring about Albert and playing with the children while Verity washed tiny play clothes and a dress or two of her own. Her mother showing up had proven to be a blessing, but still Verity was glad when her mother had gone home to fix a meal for her own family.

  Joel remained, still left behind to act as chaperone. Deep inside, she knew it was right he stayed. The Ordnung was clear. Single men and women did not share the same dwelling alone, and they would soon have to. Solomon was determined to dwell in his own home as soon as the damages from the storm were repaired.

  A chill went through her. Thoughts of their proposed marriage sped up her already racing mind. She’d been hurt when he’d walked away from his life in Pinecraft. Walked away from her. Rejecting him came naturally to her, but somehow she couldn’t honestly say she’d completely forgotten the love she’d once felt for him.

  But if she’d wanted to remarry, she would have chosen a kind man of strong faith, someone older, who would make a good father for Faith. Someone completely opposite of Leviticus. Never would she have chosen a struggling Englischer who had to learn all over again what it meant to be Plain.

  As if summoned up by her troubled thoughts, Leviticus pulled into the drive and the motor died. He ambled across the moonlit yard and up the stairs, his movements slow and easy. Was it her imagination or was he favoring his right leg a bit?

  “You look comfortable.” He sauntered past, making his way toward the closed screen door.

  “I was.” Her reply was out before she had time to correct herself. That’s right. Pick on the man while his daed lies sick in the hospital. There had to be a way to curb her anger besides cutting out her own tongue.

  Since a child, she’d been taught to be humble. Not act like some spitfire with a chip on her shoulder. But here she was, thinking bitter thoughts and speaking harshly again.

  She pulled forward and rolled the taut muscles in her neck and shoulders. Her mother’s words came back to haunt her. She and Leviticus needed to talk, find a way to deal with this marriage situation once and for all.

  “I’m sorry I disturbed you. I’ll leave you to your peace and go look in on the girls.” Leviticus’s hand reached for the doorknob.

  “Nee, wait. Don’t go in just yet. Please.” Gott, You will have to put words in my mouth, because I don’t have a clue what to say. “We need to talk.”

  He remained silent but pulled a chair over and positioned himself next to her. He sat, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the dirty jeans he wore reminding her of who he still was. An Englisch man pretending to be Amish.

  She swallowed hard. Even though her throat had gone dry, she began. “Did you see your daed tonight?” Her gaze drifted his way, but only for a moment. She wished she had time to figure out what to say. Forgiveness was required, and she had little to offer him. She could never marry him feeling this resentment.

  She glanced back his way. He looked thin and restless, like he used to when he was young. His fingers tapped out a rhythm only he heard on the fabric of his jeans stretched across his thigh. All the changes in his life, his father’s poor health had to be getting to him.

  “Ya, I saw Daed earlier.” He glanced up at the full moon and studied it like he’d just noticed its beauty. His face glowed, bathed in its light.

  She nodded, even though he wasn’t looking her way. She felt a need to acknowledge his words. Hope rose in her. Maybe Albert was thinking clearer now and realized what a foolish plan Otto had conjured up. “How does Albert look? Is he able to speak?”

  “Nee, not much. Just a few words and they were almost unintelligible, but he looks better.” He rubbed his hands up and down his arms, then massaged the muscles around his shoulder. “The nurse said this stroke did more damage than the last one, but his test results are improving a bit.”

  Verity finished her lukewarm tea, her eyes watching him over the rim of her cup. She found it impossible not to feel compassion for him, no matter how annoyed she was with him.

  He turned toward her, as if he felt her eyes on him. He spoke casually. “Solomon came to see Daed just after I got there.”

  A cold breeze blew, ruffling the wispy hair at the side of her cleaning scarf. “Have you two been able to get past your differences? You know you’re going to have
to find a way to mend old fences.” She smoothed out the throw across her legs. She didn’t want to talk too much about Albert. If she did, she would cry, and she refused to cry in front of him. “Albert’s going to need both of his sohs.”

  His blue-eyed gaze sought her gaze. “I know, but Daed’s heart problems have Solomon running scared. He’s angry, and not prepared to deal with me coming home, bringing shame to the familye again, and I can’t blame him.”

  “You didn’t tell your daed what I said to you, did you?” Verity’s fingers picked at the twisted yarn that made up the crocheted throw on her lap.

  “About you not wanting to marry me?” He settled back, his legs crossing at his ankles. “Nee. I didn’t bring up the subject. It would just upset him. Come with me tomorrow and see Daed. We’ll tell him our feelings together.”

  “We’ll see,” she murmured, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering. “I spoke with my mudder. About our marriage.” She had to force her words out past raw nerves. She could have talked to young Leviticus about anything, but not this Englischer man. But they both had aged, changed. They were little more than strangers now. She tried to calm the pounding of her heart, but to no avail. As an Amish widow, she was expected to consider marriage offers after a suitable time and eventually marry but wouldn’t be forced.

  His laugh surprised her. It came out in a low rumble from deep inside his throat.

  “I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation.” He leaned forward and looked directly at her. “What did she do? Threaten to take you home?” He laughed again. “She must think Otto’s lost his mind...trying to match the two of us in holy matrimony.”

  She pulled up a strand of yarn from the throw and twisted it around her finger. He was the last person she wanted to admit this to, but it needed to be said. “She surprised me. She agrees with Otto. Said she and Daed think it’s time I remarry. Seems I’m getting stodgy and set in my ways...like some maidal.” She nibbled the edge of her lip, wishing she hadn’t added the last part. She wasn’t an old maid. She was a widow in mourning.

  He pulled up his legs and twisted his chair around to face her. “Have you gotten stodgy?” he asked, a teasing tone entering his voice.

  The flutter was back in her stomach, the moonlight and shadows cutting across his face, making him seem more appealing than she was comfortable with. “You don’t want to know what I am.” She tucked a wayward strand of hair in her scarf and continued. “But I’ll tell you what I’ve decided to do.”

  He pulled off his baseball cap and laid it in his lap, his hand running through his fair hair. “Go on.”

  There’s no turning back now. You opened this can of worms. “I will promise to court you, pretend to love you, but that’s all for now.” She sucked in air and pressed on. Watching him for his reaction, she slumped back against the cushion like all the stuffing had been pulled out of her when he grinned, his dimple reappearing. That confounded dimple melted her insides, brought about a longing in her she could never understand, even as a young girl.

  “Your promise is good enough for me.”

  Moonlight glistened on his fair hair as he spoke, making him look wan and ethereal.

  Verity sank deeper in the chair. She recognized his satisfied smirk. She remembered it from a long time ago. He’d gotten his way again and he knew it. Her eyes burned from held-back tears of frustration. She jumped up, her bare feet smacking against the porch as she made a beeline for the door. “I’ve got to go check on the girls.”

  She didn’t wait for his reply. She didn’t have time to listen to his smug retort. Tears splashed down her face and onto the front of her dress as the screen door slammed behind her. She hurried to her room, her heart pounding in her ears. She didn’t have the energy to deal with Leviticus anymore tonight.

  Chapter Ten

  An early chill from the north spread down the Florida peninsula during the night. Verity was going into town to talk to Albert privately, before the lies began. The last thing she wanted was to court a man she didn’t love.

  Perched on her bike, Verity ignored the light drizzle falling. She waved to Clara and Faith, who stood under the covering of the porch. The picture of disappointment, Faith clutched Clara’s skirt.

  “Don’t worry. She’s just disappointed she can’t go with you, but she’ll get over it. Right, Faith?”

  Faith nodded, an impish grin replacing her sulky frown.

  Verity appreciated Clara understanding her predicament. “Danki for helping out the last few days.”

  Clara grinned. “You can return the gesture when the boppli comes.”

  “You have a deal.” Verity inspected the darkening skies overhead. “I’d best get going. This drizzle is turning into rain.” She gave one last wave and pushed off, ignoring the cool breeze blowing at her back as she headed down the lane toward town. In a hurry, her legs pumped up and down, the graveled private road slick under her narrow bike wheels.

  Leviticus would be returning from the grove soon, prepared to take her to see Albert. She didn’t want to ride with him. She needed a chance to talk privately to his daed, without Leviticus there. It was her only hope to end this ruse before things got out of hand. Albert would listen. He must.

  Thunder rumbled at a distance. Her heart sank as she saw Leviticus’s old truck turn down the grove’s private lane. When had he left that morning? She hadn’t heard him rumble past her bedroom window. It had to have been while she was bathing the kinner.

  She dropped her head, peddling harder. The dark head covering and jacket she’d donned before leaving the house helped keep the rain off, and did a good job hiding her identity, too. Still, his truck slowed and came to a stop directly across from her.

  As if she hadn’t noticed him, she sped on, her bike tires slipping on the gravel from her sudden burst of speed. Rain pelted down, wetting the collar of her dress, dampening her hands and arms.

  The truck reversed. Leviticus positioned himself alongside her. “Verity!” he called out through his partially opened truck window.

  Her shoulders fell. She slowed to a stop, straddling the bike, her feet sinking into the gravel and mire. “I’ll be back soon. I have a few things to do in town. Don’t worry about Naomi. My sister Rose is caring for her, and Clara is there!” she shouted over the racket his old truck’s motor was making.

  “It’s not Naomi I’m worried about. It’s you.”

  “Me?” she questioned, her thumb jerking toward her chest. “Why in the world are you worried about me?” She had to look like a fool, straddling a bike in the middle of a downpour. “I’m perfectly fine.” Her words were a lie. She wasn’t perfectly fine. She’d always been afraid of lightning and Leviticus knew it. She worked hard at not squirming as rain ran in rivulets down her back, dampening her dress.

  “Yeah. I can see how fine you are.” His dimple flashed her way, even though rain hit him full in the face. “Let me throw that bike in the back and I’ll take you where you need to go.”

  Rain dripped off the end of her nose. “Nee, that’s all right. I’ve only got a short way to travel. But danki for your kindness.”

  “Do we have to go through this again? Just get in.”

  “Nee, seriously. I’m fine.” She pushed off, but thunder rumbled overhead again. Her fear of lightning stalled her.

  “You’re being ridiculous, you know.” His teasing tone set her teeth on edge.

  Lightning split the sky, illuminating her as thunder growled overhead. “I’m sure—”

  He opened his door, lifted her off the bike as effortlessly as he might have Faith and moved around to the back of the truck.

  Her back plastered to his chest, she tried to protest. His feet crunched against the wet gravel. He ignored her objections like he would a sullen child. She spat rain from her mouth, her protests silenced by the downpour.

  He stopped next
to the passenger side door and lowered her to her feet. His hands free, he opened the truck door and gave her an encouraging prod forward.

  Furious at being manhandled, at his arrogance and condescending comments, she whirled on him and instantly wished she hadn’t. He hadn’t stepped back, and now her face was planted in the center of his hard chest. He smelled of rain, damp fabric and good plain Amish soap. Her knees went weak. She lifted her gaze. Leviticus’s eyebrow arched, his expression as frustrated as she was feeling. Was this to be her plight with him, constantly needing his help and him driving her home like a runaway kind?

  Verity sighed. Just get in the truck. Don’t make yourself look more foolish than you already do.

  “I’m not kidnapping you, you know. I’m just trying to get you out of the storm.”

  She watched him walk away, pick up her bike and place it in the back. Oh, how she hated it when he was right. She was still being hardheaded and churlish with him, and she knew it. A nasty storm was brewing overhead. She had no business trying to make it into town on a metal bicycle.

  She clambered into the truck, arranged her damp, limp skirt around her legs and then took the dry cloth he handed her from the glove compartment. “Danki.” She patted at her face and then jerked off her waterlogged head covering. Her prayer kapp came away with it. The tight bun she’d placed at the nape of her neck that morning unraveled, the coil of sodden hair falling against her back before she could gather it up.

  She reached to grab the hair, but he brushed her hands away, exposing the ginger mane few eyes had seen loose around her shoulders. His gaze shifted to her face. “I’ve always loved your hair. It’s the color of a new penny.”

  “Ya, well, it’s a shame you never learned to love the whole of me.” She jerked away. With little regard for her tender scalp, her fingers worked at twisting a bun back into place on her damp neck. She used her one and only remaining pin to secure the knot. In haste, she positioned her kapp and tied the wet ribbon under her damp neck.