by Jo Ann Brown
* * *
Two days later, Ruth looked over to the door from her seat on the backless bench next to Hannah when the men started filing into the house, which the hosting Zook family had readied for church today. First the ministers and the older men walked in, then the younger married men, followed at last by the unmarried men and boys. There was silence where she sat among the single women, but she could feel the tense alertness as Malachi and his brothers shuffled by. Ruth pressed her lips together to keep from snorting. It was like a livestock sale, with potential buyers critically examining the new options that circled the arena. Well, there was no shopper more savvy for a bargain than an Amish woman.
Eyeing them critically herself, Ruth had to admit the Schrock brothers were a good-looking bunch. No wonder they were causing a discernible stir among the unmarried women. Ruth speculated on how long they’d be able to stay single. Gideon, the youngest, had a few years yet to grow into himself, although he seemed a pleasant and hardworking young man from her limited interactions with him at the shop. She shook her head at Samuel, who’d had the audacity to wink in the direction of the young ladies. Ruth didn’t envy the girl who’d try her hand at putting a yoke on that charmer.
And then there was Malachi. She watched as he took a seat, nodding to a few men he might not have met out in the barn where the menfolk gathered before the church service. Unlike Samuel, not once did his eyes stray toward the women. Ruth’s mouth tipped slightly up at the corners. There was a lot to admire there. His vivid blue eyes, shared by his brothers, were approachable and steady. His shoulders under the black collarless jacket were broad and dependable. His hands, resting casually on his lap, were strong and capable. With only a limited number of families in the district, many with several daughters, any new unmarried men were regarded with a great deal of interest. Understandably, the unmarried ladies of Miller’s Creek would pounce on him like dogs on a bone.
In fact, if she were looking for an Amish man, Ruth admitted to herself as she studied him further, she might look in that direction herself. With a heavy sigh, she turned toward the vorsinger as the song leader stepped forward to lead the congregation in the first hymn. But she was not looking for an Amish man. If she married, it would most likely be someone from the Englisch community. She’d marry into a lifestyle where she’d have freedom to learn more than her short years in education provided. To do things she was currently prevented from doing because of community constraints. To be more than what Plain living allowed for women. She’d made a promise to her father. Ruth swallowed against the lump in her throat as she tried to keep her face blank.
But that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy Amish church Sundays.
It was something Ruth strove to remind herself of two hours later. The second preacher was giving his sermon. Ruth knew the man hadn’t wanted the role as minister. He was a well-respected, hardworking dairyman who’d been nominated along with other men from the district. During the selection process, he’d picked the hymnbook with the scripture note hidden inside. The whole district had shared in his dismay. Because the man was obviously more suited to milking his cows on Sunday than leading the church service. And it’d probably be more interesting watching him do so than listening to him struggle through a sermon.
Ruth’s wandering eyes fastened on movement on the benches where the unmarried men sat. Her coworker Benjamin’s bruder was nodding off. She watched him sway ever further on the backless bench across from her. Her eyes widened as he teetered forward. Benjamin’s countenance was expressionless, but his eyes danced with laughter as he shot out an arm to stop his eighteen-year-old brother from planting his face between the shoulder blades of the man seated in front of him.
Only the clasp of her hand over her mouth kept Ruth from laughing out loud. Her eyes, wide with merriment, briefly met Malachi’s, where he sat straight backed, farther down the row. His well-shaped lips twitched before he returned his attention to the uncomfortable speaker.
A few hours later, Ruth shared the incident with Hannah as they poured coffee for the men when they gathered to eat. Hannah hadn’t seen it, as she’d adhered to the church custom of not making eye contact with others during the service. But she joined in Ruth’s laughter over the story. Later, when they sat down to eat after the men had finished, they speculated on who would be successful in winning over the Schrock brothers, a pursuit obviously being planned and executed by the young single women gathered in clusters around the room.
A few were already going out the door. Hannah and Ruth watched them from the kitchen window as the girls hurried across the buggy-track-rutted snow in the farmyard toward the barn, where the men had gathered to visit.
“They’re going to freeze without their capes.” Hannah’s eyes were concerned under her furrowed brow.
“Oh, Hannah,” Ruth scoffed. “They’d look like a flock of crows with their capes on and that’s not how they want the single men to see them today. The barn is full of hay and men to flirt with. They’ll stay warm enough.”
“You’re so cynical.” Hannah’s soft tone was more wry than chiding.
“I’ve seen them come into the shop often enough. And I’ve watched the maneuverings for other single men over the past few years.”
“You should be joining in, not watching.” It was a gentle admonishment.
“You know my thoughts on that.”
“I was hoping you’d change your mind, with the business now sold.”
“I think I’m even more set on leaving, now that the business is no longer mine.” Her stomach twisted slightly at the memory of her promise to her daed to pursue her choice for her life.
“Has he been difficult to work for?”
Ruth didn’t have to ask whom Hannah meant by he. “Actually, no. He’s been pretty fair.” Memories of the trip home in the snowstorm made her add, “And kind.” More than kind, actually. He was funny, with a dry sense of humor. Hannah didn’t need to know all these opinions, though. It might give her the idea that Ruth was interested in her new boss.
Her mouth went dry. She was a coward for not telling her best friend yet that she was leaving the community.
With relief on her part, they returned their attention to the window. The focus of their discussion was leaning against the fence of the dairy lot, talking with Isaiah Zook, the owner of the farm. Probably about cows. She’d heard Malachi mention to the men at work that he was interested in picking up a few head of dairy cows.
What he didn’t seem interested in were the single women traipsing past him on their way to the barn. Or reappearing to pet the standardbreds in the lot nearby. Ruth scowled. Like they’d never seen a horse before. But no matter how much the young women flapped about the yard, Malachi didn’t pay them any attention, remaining more absorbed in the cows and his discussion.
“Do you think he has a girl back in Ohio?”
Ruth blinked. It was possible. Some Amish young men didn’t marry right away because they didn’t have money or a job that could support a wife and family. That obviously wasn’t the case with Malachi. He had the means, what with him buying the furniture shop.
Miller’s Creek’s single women were doing their best to attract his attention and it didn’t seem to be working. Amish courtships were generally kept secret until the weddings were announced in church. Her eyes narrowed. Perhaps he’d come early to the community and his future bride was going to join him later, with a wedding soon to follow. She attributed the sudden odd feeling in her stomach to indulging in too many pickled beets at Sunday dinner.
“I don’t know. Could be. But even if that isn’t the case, Samuel seems interested enough for the both of them.”
Hannah laughed in agreement as they watched Samuel, a girl on each arm, enter the barn.
A few other men, beardless and bearded, wandered over to join Malachi and the farm owner at the fence. Ruth saw Lydia Troyer, one of the capeless girls, a
pproach the small knot of men. A few moments later Jacob’s sister was at Malachi’s elbow, his head bent in her direction. Ruth didn’t know what was being said in the conversation, but she wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t include a hint for a ride home later.
The surprisingly melancholy thought of Malachi taking Lydia home in his buggy prompted Ruth to remember her own need to head toward hers. She’d been tempted to let Rascal stay in the house alone while she was gone, but the idea was abruptly scrapped when she’d noticed a few tiny teeth marks on the bottom of one of her father’s furniture pieces. Although she still felt guilty every time she left Rascal in the chicken coop with its accompanying yard, he seemed happy enough, and her furniture was safe for the moment. But she didn’t like to leave him longer than was necessary. Especially when she felt like she abandoned him every day during the week.
“I need to harness Bess and get home.” She’d already stayed much later than she’d intended. She’d forgotten how much she’d enjoyed the social aspect of church now that, as the business had fully changed hands, she wasn’t the subject of as much discussion among her neighbors.
Or perhaps she still was. While pouring coffee at one of the long tables during the meal, she did hear some gossip linking her and Malachi’s names, with no mention of furniture. The coffeepot had wobbled a little in her hand at the surprising thought of their names together. She’d steadied it with the reminder that having an Amish husband meant being an Amish wife. And that was no life for her.
As Ruth gathered her cape and bonnet and prepared to leave, Hannah reminded her, “Don’t forget you agreed to come over to my haus for Thanksgiving.”
Ruth promised that she wouldn’t as she hugged her friend goodbye. In fact, she was thrilled with the invitation. It wasn’t the first time the Lapp family had invited the Fishers to join them for a meal. But this was the first holiday after her father had passed. Ruth had dreaded the prospect of spending it alone.
Feeling warmer from the genuine farewells she’d received as she headed out the door than from the black cape that draped her shoulders, Ruth strode over the rutted farmyard to the barn. Blinking a bit in the barn’s dim light after the brighter light of the fading winter afternoon sun, Ruth nodded to the male acquaintances gathered there. She made out Bess among the numerous bay horses and headed in the mare’s direction.
With a smile, she shook off the offers from a few men to help her harness the mare. Ruth noted they’d all been eligible, unmarried men. She attended to the bad-tempered Bess. Farther down the row of horses, she could see Malachi doing the same thing with Kip.
Apparently Samuel had gotten his own horse, as he’d certainly be staying for the Sunday night singing. An activity that was actually more about ogling the opposite sex and allowing the young people to flirt than singing. But Malachi wasn’t staying. Ruth quashed the errant, happy thought as she slapped Bess’s hip when the mare cocked her rear foot menacingly. She finished harnessing the cranky bay, glancing up as Malachi led Kip out to where all the buggies were parked. Perhaps he did have a girl in Ohio. He didn’t seem interested in exploring who was of marriageable age in Wisconsin.
As she exited the barn herself, she noted with glee that he wasn’t taking Lydia home, either. Although the girl’s eyes lingered on Malachi as he passed by her, she didn’t leave the group of young people she was with to follow him out.
The snow in the unused pasture where the buggies were located was deeper than the much-traveled farmyard. Leading Bess across it, Ruth felt her shoes get wetter with every step. By the time she reached her buggy, her black stockings were soaked up to her ankles. Ruth grimaced. Even with the blanket she always carried in the winter, her feet were going to be freezing by the time she got home.
To keep from dwelling on her increasingly chilly feet as she maneuvered Bess between the shafts of the buggy, Ruth entertained herself with thoughts of summer footwear. She, like many Amish women and children, went barefoot as soon as possible once spring arrived. She couldn’t do that in the furniture workroom because of potential hazards there, but she spent most of the season away from the shop barefoot. Ruth wiggled her toes in her wet socks as she imagined freshly cut, lush grass under her bare feet, or toes curling in the sun-warmed, loamy earth of her garden. A small smile worked its way to her face at the pleasant distraction when a voice from over the top of Bess’s back jerked her to the chilly present.
“What are you smiling about?” Malachi regarded her quizzically as he attached the harness breeching to the shaft on Bess’s right side.
“I was thinking about going barefoot.”
“In this?” His eyebrow dubiously lifted as he took in the snowy landscape and the churned-up slush under their feet.
Her mouth twitched further at his expression. “Would it make you think I’m stranger than you already assume?”
“I don’t think you’re strange.” He grinned as he ran the reins into the buggy through the opening in the windshield. “For all I know, you could be normal for Wisconsin people. Which frightens me.” He ducked his head just in time to avoid the hastily made snowball, which splattered against his black hat and not his face.
Ruth watched warily as she hurriedly finished attaching the harness on her side, but he didn’t retaliate. After banging his hat against his leg to knock off most of the snow, he replaced it and leaned against his side of Bess. The mare craned her head around to look at him and then shifted in Ruth’s direction. Bringing Malachi’s lopsided grin a step closer.
“You’re not staying for the singing?”
“Does it look like I am?” Ruth forgot about cold feet as she met his amused blue eyes.
“Why not?”
“For one thing, I’m too old. For another, I know what I want and it’s not in there.” She nodded her head in direction of the barn where the single men were currently gathered.
His eyebrow rose again, touching the bottom of his blond bangs under the hat. “You don’t look that old.”
“I’m twenty-two,” she announced pertly, knowing that her small stature made her appear younger.
“I stand corrected,” he said, reaching up to flick a few crystals of slush from the shoulder of his black coat. “You don’t act that old.”
He had her there. “You provoked me.”
“You provoke easily,” he countered.
Ruth did. And she knew it. But she didn’t have time to dwell on the fact or respond before he repeated a question.
“Why not?”
“Why not what?”
“Why are you not interested in anything in there?” He, too, nodded toward the barn.
Ruth didn’t know if it was the cold or embarrassment that made her cheeks heat up. “Because they’re Amish.”
Both eyebrows rose into the blond fringe this time. “So are you.”
“Maybe not forever.” Bess stomped her hind leg and swished her tail, the long black strands barely missing Malachi. He leaned away from the mare and patted her on the hip as Ruth scrambled up into her buggy. She didn’t remember to toss the available quilt over her lap as she guided Bess away from the other buggies and down the lane. She was plenty warm for other reasons. A glance in the rearview mirror revealed that Malachi stood there watching her departure for a moment before he strode over to the patiently waiting Kip and climbed into his own buggy.
Ruth smiled. Finally recalling her cold feet, she snagged the blanket and pulled it across her lap. She toed her shoes off and reached down to peel off her wet stockings before curling her feet up on the seat under the blanket. Ruth cast another look in the rearview to see Malachi turn out of the lane.
She sighed. There had to be a girl in Ohio. It was unusual that someone as attractive as Malachi was still single. A second sigh followed. As she had said, she wasn’t looking for an Amish husband. And even if she was, she certainly wasn’t going to fall for a man who already had a s
weetheart.
Chapter Eight
Malachi was ready to get back to work by the time the Monday after Thanksgiving arrived. He’d been surprised at how much he’d missed his family in Ohio on the holiday. Adjusting to Wisconsin was easier and happier than he’d anticipated, but a letter from home made him nostalgic of past holidays there.
Thankfully Mamm hadn’t mentioned Leah in her letter. It was more than he could say for his aunt Miriam, where the Schrock men had spent Thanksgiving. The Moses Lapps—no relation to Hannah’s family—had been good friends of the Solomon Kings, so it wasn’t surprising that his aunt mentioned Solomon’s daughter a few times. Malachi just wished Aunt Miriam wouldn’t look at him so meaningfully every time she said Leah’s name.
But he’d been glad to be at his aunt’s home rather than accept the other invitation they’d received from Jacob Troyer’s family. Samuel had lobbied for that option until Malachi had given his brother a look and advised in no uncertain terms that they were spending Thanksgiving with family. Samuel had wanted to go for the same reason Malachi hadn’t: the Troyer daughters. Particularly Lydia. There’d been a lot of longing in that one’s gaze, as well. And Malachi knew exactly what the red-haired girl intended.
Amish communities were relatively closed, with a limited number of families. Based on church last week, Malachi estimated this community to be around twenty families. That provided some but not numerous options when looking for a spouse. As a man with a well-established job, sometimes Malachi felt like he was hunted prey in a game preserve. He planned to marry someday, but he wanted it to be his choice. Not because he felt driven to it like a steer channeled through the barn until loaded for market.
So he was glad to be back at work. Where there was only one irksome woman to deal with. Although Samuel was finding her more irksome than Malachi this morning. Malachi observed the two preparing an eight-drawer dresser for shipment. Samuel was wrapping the piece in plastic to secure the drawers in place when Ruth stepped back to scrutinize the front of the dresser.
