“Hard to believe a rich English mann like him is fitting into our community so easily.”
“I’m sure Cevilla keeps him in line.”
Ira looked at the hay in the cart. “What are you doing with those?”
“Dropping them off at Aenti Carolyn’s on the way home. We had some extra bales.” Seth climbed up onto the bench seat. “Want to come with me?”
Ira shook his head. “Nee. I told Daed I would hoe the cornfield before the weeds take over. They seem to love the heat and humidity.” He pulled his hands out of his pockets and headed for the second barn, where they kept their farming implements.
“See you later,” Seth called out. When Ira didn’t turn around, Seth shrugged. Clearly something was on his brother’s mind, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, Seth wasn’t going to press him.
A short while later he arrived at Cevilla’s. He parked the cart near the barn, made sure Pinto was secure, and picked up the small box of jelly jars his mother had packed. When he knocked on the front door, Cevilla answered it immediately, as if she’d been standing on the other side. She looked a bit surprised.
“Oh, Seth. I can’t believe I forgot you were coming today.” Then she smiled. “Yer timing is perfect. Well, a little less than perfect. It would have been better if you’d been here a few minutes earlier—”
“Are you going to invite the boy in?” Richard showed up next to her, opened the screen door wider, and then held out his hand. “Hello, Seth.”
Seth shook his hand, still surprised by the strong grip the old man had. “Hi, Richard.”
“Richard’s right. Where are my manners? Come in, Seth. Have a glass of tea and a butterscotch cookie. Carolyn dropped a few off the other day, fresh from her bakery. Richard’s allowed only one. He has to watch his sugar because of his diabetes.”
Richard rolled his eyes. “I’m sure Seth isn’t interested in my medical issues.”
Seth wasn’t sure what to say about that. Seemed like all the older people he knew talked about their aches and pains, and he didn’t expect Cevilla and Richard to be any different. “Thanks for the invitation, but I just came to drop these off.” He held up the box. “I can put them in the kitchen for you.”
“How nice,” Richard said. “Thank you for bringing those by. I’ve developed a love for gooseberry jam, thanks to Cevilla and your mother. Are you sure I can’t pay you?”
Cevilla put her hand on his arm. Then she looked up at him. “This is our way, remember?”
Nodding, Richard looked at Seth. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He stepped inside the house and headed for the kitchen. He’d been here several times over the years, and the house was so small he knew it by heart.
“Can you wait for a few minutes before you leave?” Cevilla said, following him. “I won’t take up much of your time.”
“Sure.” He had a few minutes to spare, and truth be told, he didn’t mind visiting with Cevilla and Richard for a little bit, even though he did have to finish his errands and get back to the farm. Richard was a nice guy, and, of course, Seth never knew what Cevilla would say next. He was up for a little entertainment.
He set the jars on the counter. In the past, extra bales of hay would have been brought for Cevilla, too, but she had to give up driving her horse and buggy. His father had always made sure Cevilla was taken care of. “Do you need me to do anything around here?” he asked.
“We’re fine,” Cevilla said, as Richard went to the opposite counter. He picked up a knife and started chopping carrots. “Cevilla’s making vegetable stew for supper tonight,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind if I finish the prep work while you two talk.”
“Not at all,” Seth said.
Cevilla sat down at the table and pointed to the chair next to her with her cane. “Have a seat, Seth.”
Seth sat down, clasping his hands loosely in his lap. He squirmed a little as Cevilla looked him up and down. That was unexpected. “Ya,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before.”
“About what?”
“You just missed Martha.” She sat back in her chair and leaned her cane against the table.
He nodded, frowning a little. “Uh, okay.”
“She’s going through a hard time, poor thing.” Cevilla clucked her tongue. “She could really use your help.”
“Me?” Seth lifted one brow. He knew Martha, but not all that well. She’d moved to Birch Creek about two years ago, he thought, and he hadn’t had much interaction with her. He’d stopped going to singings last year to devote his free time to his woodcarving. Overcoming his surprise at Cevilla’s comment, he switched gears. He was always willing to help. “What can I do?”
“Date her.”
“Cevilla.” Richard turned around. “You’re being rather blunt, don’t you think?”
Seth agreed, and he would have said so if he wasn’t so shocked.
“Oh, all right.” Cevilla let out a sigh. “Martha is having a bit of boy trouble, for lack of a better term. Perhaps you already knew that, though.”
“Um, nee.” He didn’t pay attention to other folks’ social lives, so he had no idea what Cevilla was talking about.
“To make a long story short, she needs a boyfriend.”
“Now, wait a minute,” Seth blurted. “I’m not interested in dating.”
“Oh, I know that.” Seth was about to ask her how she was privy to his personal business, but she kept on talking. “I don’t mean you have to really date her. Just make it look like you are to the other single men. They’re bothering her. Just be her friend. Take her home from church a couple of times. Everyone will get the message.”
“The wrong message.” Seth stood. “I’m sorry, Cevilla, but I don’t want people thinking Martha and I are an item.”
“It’s only for a little while.” Cevilla waved her hand. “Just long enough so the rest of the boys will leave her alone. Then you can break up with her.”
“Oh brother,” Richard mumbled. When Seth turned and looked at him, he held up his hand. “I tried to stop her.”
Seth couldn’t believe this was happening. “I’ve got to get back to the farm,” he said, heading for the back door, the quickest way to escape. “I’m sorry I can’t help you with this . . . this—”
“Plan B.” Cevilla gave him a curt nod. Then she frowned. “I’m sorry, Seth. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“Too late for that.” Richard went back to chopping the carrots.
“I’m not . . . uncomfortable.” But he was exactly that. Why in the world did she think this was a good idea or that he’d even agree to such a thing? “I’m sorry Martha’s in a pickle, but I just can’t help her.”
“I see that now.” Cevilla slowly got up from the chair. “Thank you for hearing me out.”
He gave her a look, making sure she wasn’t mad at him. When she finally smiled, he felt relieved.
“Thanks again for the jam.” Cevilla shooed him toward the door, the exact opposite of her behavior when he’d arrived. “Tell your folks I said hello.”
“I will.” As soon as Cevilla opened the door, he went outside, and she shut the door behind him.
He took off his hat and scratched his head. That was the strangest conversation he’d ever had. Him dating Martha Detweiler. Talk about out of the blue. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Not that she wasn’t attractive. He had to admit she was. But he wasn’t interested in her or in dating. He’d finally convinced his mother to leave him alone on that subject after two years of her applying pressure for him to find someone. It had been her idea for him to ask out Ruby after he accidentally bloodied her nose with their screen door last year. He agreed, but only because he felt he owed her one.
When he arrived at her house, though, Chris was there, acting strange, as usual. He’d noticed there was something going on between them, even if they didn’t know it yet, and he’d jumped at the chance to make his
escape. He hadn’t thought about asking anyone out since—anyone being Martha, since she was the only valid candidate.
No, there wasn’t room in his life for Martha, or any other woman. He was fine being single and focusing on the farm . . . and his secret passion. That was all he needed and wanted.
* * *
“That poor kid,” Richard said as he picked up an onion from the bowl near the sink and started chopping.
Cevilla sat back down at the table, still smiling. Plan B was in motion. She would have been shocked if Seth had agreed to pretend to date Martha. First, it was deceptive, and she knew it. Second, she’d been keeping an eye on him lately. He hadn’t been staying for fellowship after church, and when she and Richard had supper at the bishop’s house last month, he’d left right after they’d eaten, saying he had some business to take care of. Something was going on with him, that she was sure of. She had a sixth sense when it came to these things, just like the sixth sense she had when it came to matchmaking. Or would that be a seventh sense? Anyway, she’d at least planted the seed in Seth’s mind, and since she knew he was a kind and generous young man, she was certain he would be thinking about Martha’s plight. Fairly certain, anyway.
“Uh-oh.”
Cevilla looked up at Richard, his back to her. “What?” Had he cut his finger? She’d told him he didn’t have to help her in the kitchen, but he insisted. And she hadn’t put up too much of a fuss. She liked working with him there. And being with him. She really loved this man. Only one thing was keeping them apart—a big thing.
“You’re quiet,” he said with a faint smile. “That doesn’t bode well.”
“Very funny.” She got up, the bones in her back creaking. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was slowing down, faster than she wanted to. But she wouldn’t let a few aches and pains and uncooperative body parts stop her. She started washing her hands. “I’m just thinking, that’s all.”
“About what you put that unsuspecting boy through?” Richard added the onions to the chopped carrots.
“I didn’t put him through anything. I asked him a simple question.”
“That question made him look like a jackrabbit in a trap.” Richard turned to her. “I think this might be a situation where you should mind your own business.”
“Poppycock. This is exactly a situation where I should interfere.” She lifted her stewpot from a cabinet.
“At least you’re calling it what it is—interference.”
“With good motives.”
His expression softened. “You always have good motives. You really care about your community.”
“I do.” Oh bother, she was getting teary. But she didn’t like to see Martha, who normally was self-assured and sweet, afraid to leave her house. And when she mentioned that Seth wasn’t pursuing her, the lightbulb had gone off in Cevilla’s head. Martha and Seth were perfect for each other. They were both kind, generous, hardworking young people. That could be said for all the young people in Birch Creek, but she couldn’t get it out of her mind that these two were meant for each other. It would just take a little nudging on her part to make them realize it.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to change your mind about this,” Richard said.
“Nope.” She filled a pitcher with water and carried it to the stewpot, now sitting on the stove. She poured the water into the pot, longing for the days when she didn’t have a cane, when she could carry a full stewpot of water from the sink without thinking about it. But she’d adapted, and although it would take another pitcher to fill the pot three-quarters of the way, this was reality. “It’s been a while since I’ve done some matchmaking. My record is two out of two, I’ll have you know.”
Richard nodded. “All right. If you have confidence, I have confidence too. I just ask one thing.”
“Anything.”
“Keep me out of your shenanigans.” He put his hand over his chest. “My heart can’t take it.”
Cevilla laughed, and he hugged her. She was happy, and she wanted that happiness for Martha and Seth. If she had anything to do with it, they would have it.
Chapter 2
“Ya, Loren. I think this place will do nicely.”
Nina Stoll rubbed her nose with the back of her hand as her grandmother perused the outside of the property her father had bought nearly a month ago. This was their first time to see it. When he’d returned from Ohio and said he’d found the perfect place to open a small inn, Nina had hoped it was just a whim. But after seeing Grossmammi’s approval of the house, small barn, and grounds today, Nina’s hopes were dashed. She couldn’t see anything wrong with the place, either, which made her certain they wouldn’t move back to the only home she’d ever known.
Her brother, Levi, came from around the back of the house. “Nice big field back there,” he said, pushing his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. “The barn needs some work, but it shouldn’t take too long to get it into shape.”
“The property has been abandoned for quite some time. An English familye used to live here, according to the real estate agent.” Her father stroked his chin. A widower of many years, he’d shaved off his beard long ago. “We won’t have to add any electrical for the guests, which is a plus. We’ll build a small haus for ourselves in nee time. With a little elbow grease, we’ll have a nice little inn on our hands, and a new place to live.”
“This was an excellent decision.” Grossmammi stood next to her son. She was short, a bit wide, and strong. Much like Nina herself. More than once she’d been compared to her grandmother, at least physically. Personality-wise . . . That was another matter.
“What do you think, Nina?” Daed turned to her with an expectant look.
She threaded her fingers together, wishing she could tell him the truth. She wasn’t okay with leaving Wisconsin. Her life had been fine the way it was. She’d had her favorite fishing hole, the huge oak tree in front of the house she still climbed whenever she thought her grandmother wouldn’t catch her, a seasonal job at the bait shop near Orchard Lake, and, of course, her friends. So what if they were all male? And married. Don’t forget that part. She couldn’t spend time with them the way she had when they were all growing up together, but she was fine with that. She didn’t mind being alone, as long as she wasn’t stuck inside tending a house.
Or an inn. This property didn’t even have a decent climbing tree on it.
“Nina?”
She blinked and looked at her father. Instead of telling him what was in her heart, she said, “It’s . . . nice.”
Daed looked at her a bit longer. She could tell he didn’t believe her, but fortunately he didn’t question her further. He turned to Levi and Grossmammi. “As I told you, the bottom floor of the inn is livable for us while we renovate. Levi, you’re in charge of repairing the barn and getting the front and back yards into shape. Nina, you and Mamm will work on the inside of the inn, alongside the workers I’ve hired.”
“And what do you plan to do?” Grossmammi asked, tapping her foot twice. Delilah Stoll didn’t like being bossed around by her son or anyone else. Not that anyone dared.
“Start on our haus, Mudder.” He gave her a long-suffering look. “Mei hope is that we can open the inn in four months. I want our haus to be finished sooner than that.”
Nina rubbed her nose again. Was it too late to go back home? They had extended family in Wisconsin. She could move in with her cousin Fannie, or even get a full-time job and live by herself. She’d prefer that anyway. Fannie was nice, but she, like her grandmother, had been urging her to give up her tomboyish ways. “How will you ever get a husband if you can barely do laundry?” she’d asked one day when Nina had stopped by for what turned out to be a regrettable visit.
“I do laundry just fine.” She’d plopped down on one of the kitchen chairs. Fannie was peeling potatoes for the potato salad she was making for lunch after church the next day.
“Yer Grossmammi does the laundry.” Fannie pointed the paring knife at he
r and then resumed peeling.
“She makes me get out mei own stains.” Nina glanced down at her light-green dress. Faded grass stains were still visible on its skirt, but she didn’t care. It was clean enough for her.
Fannie sighed. “You’re twenty-two years old, Nina. When are you going to start thinking about marriage and a familye?”
Never. Well, not exactly never, but she didn’t want to get married anytime soon. Then she’d really be stuck in a house doing chores and taking care of kinner. That didn’t appeal to her at all. She still had living to do. She rubbed her nose yet again.
“Stop that,” Grossmammi said. “It’s not ladylike.”
Nina put her hands behind her back. Her grandmother had been trying to mold her into a respectable Amish woman for years. That hadn’t worked out too well.
Neither would moving back to Wisconsin. She could see that. Once her father made a decision, he didn’t change his mind, and he did need her help. A lot of work had to be done. Perhaps after the inn was ready, she could leave. She’d miss her brother, father, and even her grandmother, despite their tense relationship. But at least she’d be home. A knot of homesickness tightened in her stomach.
“You look a bit peaked.” Grossmammi walked up to her. “You also picked at yer breakfast this morning before we left the hotel. Usually you have a hearty appetite.” She glanced at Nina’s hips. “A little too hearty, sometimes. What’s wrong with you?”
Nina shook her head, unfazed by her grandmother’s directness, although she didn’t miss the irony that her plump grandmother was mentioning Nina’s appetite. Nina didn’t care that she was on the stout side. A little extra weight had never interfered with her job, her fishing, or her other activities. “Nix,” she said, hoping Grossmammi wouldn’t pick up on the fib. “I’m fine.”
“Gut. Because we need all hands on deck for this business to be successful.” Grossmammi crossed her arms over her chest and looked around the property again. “This place has potential.”
The Farmer's Bride Page 2
