Their Convenient Amish Marriage

by Cheryl Williford

  The Englischers’ new technology was mind-blowing. What in the world had he brought home? Mixed emotions curled her toes in her shoes.

  There was no agitator? How would the clothes get clean with nothing to swish them around?

  Leviticus came into the kitchen wearing a smile. He had a kiss for the girls and a cheerful wave in her direction as she mulled over her predicament. “Would you like another cup of coffee? There’s at least a cup left,” she offered as she watched him and Naomi play tug-of-war with the kind’s favorite toy. His hug for Naomi was, as always, long and loving. It was plain to see the child meant the world to him.

  He glanced her way as he ruffled Faith’s already messy head of hair. “Nee, but thanks. I’ve got a lot to do today.”

  She waved him off with a smile, but her thoughts remained on her new husband. He seemed calm this morning, had a slight spring to his step. Almost as if he were happy. Like he’d finally found contentment. Watching as he plodded along, she waved at him as he turned back around and sent the girls a hand-blown kiss. She tried hard to hold down the spurt of joy warming her soul. Leviticus was becoming the man she’d been promised to all those years ago. She wasn’t sure if and when she should reveal how much their new friendship meant to her.

  Naomi asleep and Faith coloring on the porch, Verity made her way to the shed and upturned a basket of children’s clothes into the big machine’s tub. Her thoughts were on Leviticus.

  Clara followed her out into the shed, kicking a basket of laundry along with her bare foot, her baby safely tucked in her arms. “What’s the matter? You’re wearing the strangest expression. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a lovesick fool.”

  Not ready to confess her growing feelings for Leviticus and how they kept her perplexed, Verity avoided the subject. “Maybe I should use the homemade soap on the kinner’s clothes. I keep looking at these funny liquid washing cubes.” She held up one of the colorful squares she’d found in a small cardboard box at the bottom of the washer.

  “Leviticus would have warned you against them if he thought they were dangerous.” Clara took the tiny soap square from Verity and examined it. Her brows raised, just as confused as Verity. “You know, we’ll look complete bensels if we break the machine the first week. Best use this soap. It came with the machine.”

  “You’re bound to be right.” But still, Verity’s stomach gyrated with nerves. Englischer things unnerved her, even though Otto had given his consent. What if the soap doesn’t clean well or gives both kinner a rash?

  Taking a deep breath, she took the cube back from Clara and dropped it in the slot marked soap that she’d accidently found a moment before. She shut the lid and punched the button for delicate clothes, reserving judgment until the children’s clothes were washed. If all went well, she’d allow herself to feel confident with Leviticus’s trousers and her dresses next.

  Two hours later, after refusing to use the dryer on such a pretty day, she lifted another sheet from her wicker basket, snapped it out and pegged it on the wire line stretching from the garage wall to a T-shaped post stuck in the ground.

  The wind caught the damp sheet and smacked her in the face. Placing her kapp back in place, she worked her way down the wire clothesline, pegging and grumbling to herself as she went. She missed her old wringer washer. Albert had been kind when she’d first come to work for him and bought it for her convenience, not that the machine ever performed that well. Why hadn’t Leviticus just gotten it fixed? She would have hung on to the old machine for sentimental reasons, which was silly, considering its flaws, but she was sentimental. She smiled, remembering how many times she’d smashed her finger in the wringer before she got the hang of its peculiarities, but it had run faithfully...until Monday morning, when she’d tried to start it and nothing happened but a terrible groaning and shaking.

  Verity sniffed at another damp sheet ready to be hung. The abnormal smell of store-bought soap tickled her nose. The clothes coming out of the washer seemed clean enough, but still she doubted.

  She peeped through the two sheets blowing in the wind. Beyond the concrete sidewalk, Faith rode her bike, her head down like the race-kart driver they’d seen at the community fair the day before.

  Naomi squealed in delight, pulling Verity’s attention to her youngest daughter playing in the playpen with a pile of old pots and pans. Drool dampened her terry cloth bib and lightweight sweater. There were plenty of soft dolls and cloth blocks in the toy box the girls shared, but the kind learning to walk around the playpen preferred kitchenware and mixing bowls as toys. A born cook? Perhaps, but she doubted the talent came from Leviticus. He couldn’t boil water, much less make a meal. If Naomi had a bent toward culinary arts, it would have had to come from Julie, her birth mother.

  Pegging down a pair of Naomi’s store-bought onesies, she allowed her thoughts to wander back to Julie, the woman who’d caught Leviticus’s eye while he was away. Was it jealously eating at her? He hadn’t said much about Naomi’s mamm other than she was a professional woman who worked an important job for the military. But what he had said didn’t make her sound the type who might be found in a hot kitchen, cooking for her family.

  Verity’s lip curled. Unless she was cooking one of those fancy gourmet meals I read about at the pediatrician’s office.

  After waving at Clara, who stood at the window watching the children’s antics, Verity pressed a hand to her back. She was glad her sister-in-law had dropped in to chat this morning. For some reason, Verity had woken in a melancholy mood. She missed Albert. Missed their comradery and friendship. Clara’s teasing and laughter was just what she had needed to cheer up and think positive.

  She snatched up the last cloth diaper from her wicker basket. Pegs in her mouth, she looked up, the sounds of a car speeding down the gravel road leading to the compound drawing her interest. Dust and tiny rocks flew behind a fancy red sports car.

  “Faith. Quick! Go tell your Aenti Clara someone’s coming.”

  Who in the world could this be?

  * * *

  Solomon and Leviticus strolled toward the farmhouse in companionable silence. It had been a long, arduous day. Dirt had been brought in and spread in the small grove where the most damage had been done. The planting of new midsize peach trees was almost finished. They both agreed they would have never gotten this far along if it hadn’t been for the local men’s continued help. To say they were grateful would have been an understatement.

  “Daed’s home day after tomorrow.”

  Solomon nodded, his smile reaching his eyes. “Ya, I know. I’m certain-sure he’s going to be happy when he sees all the progress made.”

  A flash of red shining through a row of small orange trees caught Leviticus’s eye. He didn’t think it probable, but he asked the question anyway. “You know someone who drives a red sports car?”

  Solomon stretched his neck, peering over a row of miniature trees. “Nee, that’s no one I know.”

  Leviticus shrugged, no longer interested in the car or its driver. Shoulder to shoulder, the brothers walked on, past Verity’s line of clothes flapping in the breeze.

  Leviticus pulled off his work hat and wiped perspiration from his brow with the sleeve of his sweat-drenched shirt. One of the few things he missed about his Englischer clothes was his beat-up baseball cap. It had a built-in sweatband that really worked.

  Solomon reached out and playfully popped one of the black suspenders holding up Leviticus’s hand-me-down trousers.

  “Two can play that game, bruder,” Leviticus called as he chased Solomon down, both men having to avoid a doll carriage and Faith’s swing suspended from a tree limb as they ran. Inches from his target, Leviticus reached out and missed the black elastic suspender stretched taut against his brother’s left shoulder.

  Laughing, both men ran up the steps and burst through the kitchen’s back door, much as they had as boys. So
lomon dodged his brother’s hand. Leviticus pursued him, not giving up the chase.

  If only Mamm were still alive. He and Solomon had always gotten into trouble for their exuberant play. He pictured his mamm in front of the old range, her face red from the late-summer heat. He could almost hear her voice as she scolded them for running into the house like they were kinner again.

  His feet still slick with mud, Leviticus skidded to a halt. A man wearing a suit sat at the breakfast table, in a chair nearest the sink. Verity stood transfixed a foot away, her eyes round, her irises a dark shade of emerald green. Something is wrong.

  The tall man rose, his forehead creased, expressing his disapproval at their behavior. Leviticus approached. Their eyes met and held. This was no country bumpkin. An air of authority clung to the man like the scent of his expensive cologne. Leviticus had seen men like him before in big cities up north. He’d avoided them like the plague.

  “Who’s this?” he asked Verity. She remained dumbstruck. Silence vibrated through the room until he heard the wail of a young boppli crying in earnest at the back of the house. Was it Naomi? Nee. The child sounded too young. Perhaps Clara’s new daughter, Rose? But where are Faith and Naomi?

  His hand outstretched, an obligatory smile twisted the stranger’s lips. His smart, well-fitted suit told Leviticus their visitor had money—and lots of it.

  Verity cleared her throat, fighting to regain her composure. “This is Maxwell Horthorn. He’s come to speak to you about Naomi.”

  Leviticus continued to ignore the man’s outstretched hand. It took a moment for him to take in the ramifications of what Verity had said.

  “Where are the kinner?”

  Verity swallowed hard. “Faith is with Clara and her boppli.” The tone of her voice was too high. Something was very wrong.

  Solomon’s shoes scuffed the floor as he moved out of the kitchen toward the bedroom, where his wife and child waited.

  Leviticus stepped forward. He pulled a kitchen chair out and sat, his legs stretched out in front of him. He knew how to deflate pompous fools. He’d done it enough in the army. Act like you’re not intimidated. “What about Naomi? Where is she?” His words were for Verity, but his scowling glare never left Maxwell Horthorn’s face.

  Horthorn lowered his hand but remained standing. “She’s with her mother.” The man’s accent spoke of the islands to the south. Perhaps Jamaica. “I represent the Miami law firm of Zamora, Smith, Landers and Espinoza.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  Leviticus’s eyes cut back to Verity. She stood twisting a dishcloth in her hands, her fingers working the fabric, her tortured gaze fixed on the man. He could hear Naomi now. She had begun to whimper and cry out, “Mamm!” Her wail of fear sucked the air from his lungs. He stiffened. The floral scent was unmistakable. Chanel. Julie always wore too much.

  High heels clicking on hardwood signaled her arrival in the kitchen. He pulled his gaze away from Verity. The one woman in the world who could ruin his daughter’s life stood just inside the kitchen. Julie Hernandez. She hadn’t changed in the months since he’d seen her. She was still rakish thin.

  There was no smile of greeting between the two, just her usual petulant frown and pouting red mouth. She held Naomi in her arms much like a kind might carry a rag doll. Not the way a mother should hold her desperately unhappy child.

  Naomi reached out her chubby arms to Verity. “Mamm... Mamm!”

  Verity took a step forward and then stopped as if held by an invisible string. She stood motionless, her arms dropping limp to her sides. Gentle as a lamb, Verity was no match for Julie’s annoyed glare.

  “What do you want?” He looked her up and down. Out of her military uniform, she wore her usual business attire: a dark slim pencil skirt and lacy blouse meant to give an air of big-city sophistication. Like the fool he had been, he’d fallen for her gentle Southern charm and delicate features, but he’d finally seen through her, though too late. She had already been pregnant with Naomi by the time he was ready to pack his bags.

  His hands clenched into fists. He’d take them both on...and the Miami court system if it meant saving his daughter from the likes of Julie. His thoughts swirled with ugly possibilities, making him sick to his stomach. This isn’t supposed to be happening. Julie had wanted nothing to do with Naomi when she was a baby. What had changed? For the millionth time, he regretted not getting a signed legal document from her relinquishing custody before he’d left Washington with his daughter.

  “Still not warm and welcoming, I see.” Contempt laced Julie’s soft words. Her smile might have turned up her lips, but her eyes were bright and shiny with rage. She’d always liked power games, playing with people like they were bugs until she squashed them under her heel.

  “For some reason, I don’t feel friendly today.” Anger laced Leviticus’s voice.

  Naomi continued to cry. Julie put the squirming child on her shoulder and rubbed her back, only making the child cry harder.

  “She doesn’t know you, Julie. Let Verity hold her for a moment and comfort her.”

  Julie threw back her head and hooted. “Don’t be silly. She’s fine with me.” Her eyes sought out Verity’s gaze. “After all, I’m her mother.” Julie looked down at the child in her arms with ownership, seeking to intimidate Verity further.

  He saw an ugly glimmer of determination in Julie’s eyes as she lifted her head and looked directly at Verity. “The kid’s just tired. It’s probably past her bedtime. Isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

  Naomi pushed away from Julie, stretching toward Leviticus, sobbing her heart out. But Julie wasn’t finished with them yet. He could see it in the set of her mouth, the way her eyes watched Leviticus and Verity’s reactions to her being there.

  Julie hiked Naomi up higher on her hip and turned toward Leviticus. “Now, before we end this family reunion, let me ask. Does your little Amish wifey know about you joining the army and going to Afghanistan?”

  Verity gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

  Julie smiled. “I didn’t think so. Shame you weren’t honest with her. You think she’s going to be okay with you killing all those men and that young kid while you were over there?”

  Pale and shaking uncontrollably, Verity looked as if she was going into shock. Leviticus walked over to her and tried to guide her to a chair, but Verity jerked her arm away, her gaze condemning, her stance rigid.

  A manila folder of papers slid across the table and hit Leviticus on the arm. A pen marked with a law office’s logo lay on top.

  Julie spoke up, satisfaction etched on her face. “They’re legal documents. Sign them and I won’t call the police and report you for kidnapping.”

  “I’m not signing anything.” Leviticus advanced toward Julie, reaching for Naomi.

  “Look, Huckleberry. You can either sign or go to jail.” The lawyer jumped up and sidestepped in front of Leviticus. “It’s your choice.” He smiled at Julie. “Miss Hernandez has every right to see her daughter, spend time with her as often as she likes. You took the child known as Naomi out of the state illegally, without her mother’s consent. Unless you have a court decree granting you full custody from the state of Washington, DC, and a psychiatrist saying you’re of sound mind, I strongly suggest you sign the papers and let us be on our way.”

  The urge to break the nose on Maxwell Horthorn’s long, wrinkled face rose to a screaming crescendo in his head. He struggled to forget the ways he’d been taught to kill a man with one blow. He sought Julie’s gaze. “Leave Naomi with me as we agreed and get out of this house. Make sure you take your pretty boy with you.”

  “Oh, honey. I plan on leaving, but not alone. Naomi goes with me. Women are prone to changing their minds. You ought to know that by now.” Julie smiled sweetly at Naomi. “I want Naomi. We belong together, don’t we, sugar?”

  Leviticus rubbed his hands down his pant l
egs. Be calm. Breathe. He could see it in her eyes. Julie wanted him to put hands on Horthorn, kick them both out with brute strength and fury. She’d love having him arrested for violence. It was part of her plan. But he wouldn’t play along. He didn’t play those games anymore.

  He walked toward her, hoping his angry expression might intimidate her. “I’ve enjoyed seeing you about as much as having a root canal. Now, give me Naomi and get out.”

  Clutching the whimpering child closer, Julie turned to her lawyer. “Come on. Let’s go. I have what I came for.”

  Leviticus stood firm, not moving. “I mean it, Julie. You’re not taking my daughter.”

  “Watch me.” Her brow rose, perfectly arched. Furrows of rage marred her perfectly made-up face. “I know you better than you think. You’re not man enough to deal with the threat of prison hanging over your head. You stop me and there’ll be no chance of you ever seeing the kid again.”

  “The child’s name is Naomi.”

  Julie handed her bulky purse to Horthorn and took a step forward and then another, testing the waters. “That old-fashioned name’s not going to last long. I let you call her Naomi at first, but I’m having her name changed on Monday. I think Izzy’s a pretty name. Don’t you?”

  “You can’t do that!” Verity cried out.

  Naomi recaptured Verity’s gaze. Tears darkened the Amish woman’s thick lashes.

  Julie moved toward Leviticus, her assured smile piercing him to the bone. “I can and will take her. Without your name on the birth certificate, you don’t have a leg to stand on and you know it.”

  Reality punched him hard in the chest, robbing him of air. “But you said you didn’t want her, that your job—” He hated the way his voice trembled, exposing his doubt, giving her the edge she wanted.

  Julie’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You know me better than that, sugar. I said a lot of things I didn’t mean while we were together.” Laughing, she thrust out her left hand, showing off an engagement ring clustered with sparkling diamonds and rubies. “My fiancé really wants kids. He’ll like this one.”