Amish Joy (The Amish Bonnet Sisters Book 4)

by Samantha Price

  “Has he gone already?”

  “He has,” she told Mamm.

  She heard Florence in the kitchen and knew her younger sisters had gone upstairs to bed She sat down next to Mamm as she sewed.

  Mamm gave her a sidelong glance. “Everything alright?”

  The question took Joy by surprise. “Jah, why wouldn’t it be?”

  “You look a little pale and somewhat confused. Before that, you seemed to walk into the house with no spring in your steps.”

  “Oh.”

  “Are you coming down with something?”

  “Nee. I feel perfectly fine.”

  Mamm wove her needle into the fabric and then folded up the white baby dress she was sewing. “My eyes are troubling me.” She blinked a few times. “I might need glasses.”

  “You should go get checked out.”

  “All in good time. Right now, I’m off to bed.”

  Joy was a bit upset by her mother going to bed early. She had wanted to talk to her about a few things. There was no one else to give her advice with her two older sisters married and living a distance away.

  Her mother walked over and kissed her on the top of her forehead. “Gut nacht. Can you tell Florence I said good night?”

  “Jah, I’ll do that. Night, Mamm.”

  When her mother walked up the stairs with her sewing tucked under her arm, Joy lay down on the couch and swung her feet up onto the armrest—something she wouldn’t be able to do if Florence or her mother were about.

  Her two brothers-in-law had declared their love early in their relationships and had been desperate to get married, but Isaac hadn’t done that. Did that mean he wasn’t as much in love with her?

  Then she remembered Florence’s admirer. Joy couldn’t help being slightly envious of Florence and those flowers. It was a feeling that she didn’t like and was uncomfortable with, but still, she couldn’t shake it.

  Annoyed with herself, she sat upright with her feet now resting on the floorboards. In God’s word, she’d find a Scripture to encourage her and bring her thinking back into line. His words would slice through the negative feelings swirling through her heart and her head.

  Chapter 7

  When Florence finished cleaning the kitchen, she walked into the living room expecting to see Mamm sewing, but even Mamm must’ve been so tired that she’d gone to bed. Florence had been keeping herself busy by doing extra cleaning in the kitchen. Wiping a dirty mark off one of the shelves had turned into pulling everything off the shelves and wiping everything down.

  She glanced at the clock on the mantle and was surprised that it was after twelve; she’d guessed it was around nine thirty.

  No one had come into the kitchen while she’d worked in there; not even to say goodnight. Still, at least the kitchen cupboards were clean and that saved her doing it another day.

  She let out a yawn raising her arms over her head and then the sweet fragrance of her roses captured her attention. She walked closer to admire them for the fiftieth time since she’d gotten them.

  Carter still cared!

  However, she didn’t need roses to remind her about him. He was never far from her mind or her heart.

  She plucked a rose from the bunch, headed to the kitchen and filled up a glass. After she had shortened the stem by half, she popped the rose in the water and headed upstairs with it. Once in her room, she set the glass on the nightstand. A reminder of Carter might help her sleep soundly tonight.

  She changed into her nightgown, took off her prayer kapp and unbraided her hair. Then she took hold of her boar bristle brush, sat on the end of the bed and brushed out her long hair all the while worrying what to do about Carter. When she had finished, she opened the window and looked out into the darkness in the direction of Carter’s house.

  Did he understand why she'd never come back to see him? She had to go to him, and she had to do it soon.

  It filled her with happiness to know that a man like Carter liked her, wanted her.

  No one before him had ever thought of her as special. In her youth, she’d been passed over. Even Ezekiel, the pig farmer, hadn’t been interested. To have someone handsome and nice like Carter interested, made her feel worthwhile.

  Soon, she had an important decision to make. Without him, her day-to-day life was monotonous. When he was close, that was when she truly came alive. It was the moments with him that felt like the truly important ones and she didn’t know if it was wrong to feel like that.

  Every moment since they’d shared that kiss, she was aching to see him again.

  He felt that way too, she just knew it. He wasn’t some lady’s man using fancy words to try to seduce her or lead her astray like other Englischers had done to girls within the community.

  If only she could dive into her future and get a glimpse of how everything would end.

  It led her to wonder, did life itself have several possible endings depending on what decisions she made, or was it all predetermined? Was she in control of her life or was God?

  She wiped her brow, somehow beaded with sweat, even in the freezing temperature.

  If she ended up leaving the community for Carter, would she be lost to God’s grace? Would she find herself cast into the pit of fire after she died? That was what she had been raised to believe. She’d always thought it best to err on the side of caution, but that was before she’d met Carter.

  In her heart, she knew not everybody fell in love so deeply.

  This wasn’t the kind of love that you could take or leave. It had taken over her mind, her heart and everything within her.

  Maybe if she prayed real hard Carter would join them. That would be the perfect ending. She turned her head and stared at that single rose on the nightstand. It made her smile, but it needed something else. A solitary rose wasn’t good enough. She was through with loneliness.

  She crept down the stairs in the darkness and made her way to the roses. Reaching out her hand she felt carefully until her hand brushed a rose at the edge of the vase. When her fingers touched the petals, she ran her hand down to the stem, careful of thorns. Then she pulled out the rose and took it up to her bedroom.

  Better to have two roses than one. The bunch wouldn’t miss those two special roses that she kept in her room. She broke the long stem in half to fit in the glass, then tossed the lower half of the stem out her partially opened window.

  When she popped the rose into the glass with the other one, she couldn’t stop smiling. One was taller than the other.

  One is Carter and one’s me.

  Feelings of love welled up within her, overflowed, and surrounded her. She closed her eyes and soaked it all in. She stood there for a good few moments, until the chilling breeze whistled through the window.

  She hurried over to shut it and then looked through the window.

  “Good night, my love,” she whispered before turning to her bed.

  After she slipped between the cold sheets, she turned off the gas light beside her. She’d forgotten to close the curtains, but that didn’t matter. The light of the moon wouldn’t wake her. It was a dark and cloudy night; the same as it had been for the last few nights. When her eyes closed, a hint of rose fragrance wafted under her nose and lulled her peacefully to sleep.

  Chapter 8

  Florence was doing the washing up after breakfast the next morning when she heard the faint sounds of a buggy—the rhythmic clip-clop of the hooves, and the crunchy sound of the pebbles on the driveway as the wheels rolled over them.

  “Who’s that?” Wilma asked, seated at the kitchen table.

  The dark bay horse with its bright white star was a familiar sight at their house. “It’s Ada.”

  “Ah, good. I’ll put the teakettle on.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Denke.”

  As Wilma went out to meet Ada, Florence shook her hands dry and then popped the mostly-full teakettle back onto the flame of the gas stovetop. Minutes later, Ada was in the kitchen sitting with M
amm. Normally, Florence would’ve greeted Ada and then left the older women alone to talk, but before she could even say hello, Ada had asked her to join them.

  Then Ada added, “Unless … you’ve got something better to do?”

  “I’ve got lots of things to do, but I can take a few moments to have another cup of kaffe.”

  “Good.”

  Ada and her mother were so abnormally quiet while Florence made them a pot of tea that she knew something was going on. Once she had set the tea items down on the table, she sat down with a mug of coffee.

  It didn’t take long to find out what was on their minds.

  Ada was the first to speak. “What’s this I hear about you having a secret admirer?”

  Florence steadied her mug so it wouldn’t spill, as she giggled like a young girl. “It’s not true.”

  “It is,” Wilma said. “You saw the flowers, didn’t you, Ada?”

  “I surely did. They’re beautiful.”

  She looked at the two women and knew that they had talked about it previously. It seems that Mamm told Ada everything no matter how small and insignificant.

  “It’s no big deal.”

  “Are they from Ezekiel Troyer?”

  Florence shook her head. “Things are through with me and Ezekiel, didn’t you know?”

  “Jah, but I thought … Who could they be from?”

  “I wouldn’t know for certain. It’s a mystery.” Florence hoped her face wasn’t saying something different from her words.

  Ada’s eyes bored through her. “You don’t know?”

  “How could I know? There was no sender on the note that came with the flowers.”

  “Ah, that’s a shame.” Ada shook her head. “He was so well suited.” She was still focused on Ezekiel.

  “Humph,” Mamm said with just the merest hint of a snarl. “He didn’t appear to think so.”

  Ada opened her mouth in shock and asked Florence, “It was he who ended things?”

  “Jah, didn’t Mamm tell you?”

  “Jah, but I didn’t believe it until just now. Not that I didn’t believe you, dear,” she said to Wilma. “I just never thought that Ezekiel would’ve been the one to not persevere.”

  'Persevere?' Florence didn’t like the thought of someone having to persevere with her. Or the thought that Ada was saying she hadn't tried to give a relationship with Ezekiel her best effort. “No words were said exactly, but I knew from his letter what he meant. Things were too difficult for the both of us to continue seeing one another with the distance between us. Then his mudder got ill, and on top of that, his bruder left the farm. It all became just too difficult.”

  Mamm said, “And she was all ready to go on that trip to see him and she had to cancel the bed-and-breakfast that she’d already paid a deposit on. I thought I told you all of that.”

  Florence felt horrible remembering everything about Ezekiel’s rejection of her. In faith, and to do the right thing, she had decided to give him a chance. She’d opened her heart and booked the trip. And then the possibility of a life with him was over. A small part of her was pleased that she’d at least given him a chance.

  “That’s dreadful.” Ada pressed her thin lips together. “That’s not good enough. Did he at least pay you back for the deposit?”

  “Ach, nee. I never let him know that I’d placed a deposit on the accommodation. I didn’t want him to feel bad. When I got that letter, there was no reason to ever contact him again. I just want to forget all about it.” She put her elbows on the table and clutched her coffee mug.

  “I’m sorry Florence. If I had known that would be the outcome I never would’ve suggested him. I feel dreadful.”

  “Don’t. I mean, it could’ve worked.”

  “She liked him,” Mamm said as though she were helping matters.

  “Anyway, all that’s behind me now. And I’m looking forward to what the future might bring.”

  A mischievous twinkle came to Ada’s eyes. “With your mystery man?”

  “Maybe.” It was natural for Ada to assume the man who’d sent those flowers would be an Amish man. Florence had little contact with Englischers with the exception of the apple customers.

  “So, you want me to stop looking?” Ada inquired.

  “Ach! You’re not still looking for someone for me, are you?”

  “I wasn’t anymore, because I thought you and Ezekiel were well matched, but I could look if you want me to.”

  “Nee. That’s fine. If it’s going to happen …”

  “Ada, find someone for her, would you?”

  “Mamm!” Maybe another man would be a good distraction to stop her thinking about Carter, or it could be another disaster. “Nee, Ada, truly I’m fine.”

  “I won’t look for somebody but if someone comes to mind, I’ll let you know.”

  Florence nodded. “That sounds like the best idea yet. Why don’t you do that?” Florence took a large sip of her coffee, trying to put Ezekiel’s rejection from her mind. She’d been rejected too many times in her youth. She wasn’t sure why.

  When Florence finished her hot drink, she left Ada and Mamm there to talk and left the house. With the girls in their bedrooms, Florence hurried to hitch the horse before her sisters asked where she was going.

  Chapter 9

  Florence hadn’t seen much of her best friend, Liza, who was quite busy these days with her two young children. She hoped Liza had time for her today. She needed to talk. If not, she’d drive around the streets alone while she figured out what to do about Carter.

  As she approached Liza’s house, she saw her outside pinning out the washing. It didn’t take Liza long to notice the buggy, and as soon as Florence pulled up in the yard, a fresh-faced Liza rushed toward her.

  “Hello. This is great timing. I have the boys down for a nap—at the same time.” She laughed cheerfully.

  That was the best news Florence had heard in days. “Good. Can you spare a bit of time for me?”

  “All the time in the world … until one of them wakes up.” Liza giggled. “Is something troubling you?”

  Florence stepped down from the buggy and threw the reins over the hitching post. “Many things, but I don’t know where to start.” Part of her wanted to unburden herself about her attraction to Carter and part of her wondered if it wasn't best to keep it to herself.

  Then there was the letter from her mother. She had to know what her mother meant about making mistakes. To do that, she had to find out more about her mother’s life. “I want to know more about my mudder, and everybody seems quiet about her. For as far back as I can remember no one ever mentions her and I don’t know how to find out more about her.”

  “I don’t remember anything about her.” Liza shrugged her shoulders.

  “I know. I didn’t think you would since we’re the same age, but where should I go to find out who would know, and am I right in thinking there is some secrecy surrounding her?”

  "Let’s go inside." As they walked, Liza said, “I don’t mean to be rude or insensitive, Florence, but she’s gone, so why would people talk about her?”

  “I wouldn’t expect people to, but her close family should still talk about her. I guess Dat didn’t mention her because of Wilma. But he never talked to me about her, or to my brothers, and I just have a yearning in my heart to know her. I found a letter in the attic that she wrote to me a little while before she died.”

  “Really?”

  They both sat down on the couch in the living room.

  “Jah, and there was one for Earl and one for Mark.”

  “What did they say?”

  “I haven’t given them theirs yet, but mine didn’t say much of anything really. Just something about following my heart and something like … not making any mistakes.”

  “That sounds the same thing every mother says. I’ll say that to my boys too. Us mothers just want to save our kinner from mistakes—protect them from everything.”

  “I guess.”

&nb
sp; “That’s right.”

  She wasn’t ready to tell her friend about Carter, she realized, or the letter from the Englischer to Mamm. She was certain her mother wouldn’t want her memory tainted. Not that she had a reputation to uphold, what with no one talking about her, but if they found out about that, tongues might wag.

  Florence sighed. “There are boxes and boxes of my mother’s belongings in the attic. I had started to go through them when I found the letter.”

  “If you go through her things, that should give you an idea of the kind of person she was.”

  “That’s what I thought. I should go back to that again, shouldn’t I?”

  “Why not? There’s no point leaving things in the attic to gather dust. Why don’t you see what things of hers you can use? It sounds like you need to have some of your mother’s things around.”

  That was why she and Liza were friends. They thought along similar lines. “Exactly. That’s why I started to go through her things. Her sewing machine is the only thing I've ever used. I wanted a cushion, or a rug—something I could keep in my bedroom, so I could feel her close.”

  “Is there anything else upsetting you?”

  Liza wasn’t silly, she knew there was something weighing heavily on her. Florence stared at her best friend hoping she wouldn’t be too judgemental if she told her about Carter. “Well, there is one—” She was interrupted by the baby crying out.

  “That didn’t last long. I’ll leave him be for a bit longer. What were you saying?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I made some white chocolate cookies yesterday.”

  “And, are there any left?”

  Liza giggled. “I managed to rescue some of them. They’re Simon’s favorites. We can have cookies and tea.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  They moved from the living room into the kitchen and Florence decided it was best to keep quiet about Carter. She’d figure out what to do. A large decision had to be made and it would be best that she make it alone.