The Farmer's Bride

by Kathleen Fuller

  She closed her eyes and settled into the back of the buggy, enjoying the peaceful morning, the sound of the horse’s hooves against the asphalt road, and the slight breeze that did little to cool her but provided a bit of refreshment as she prepared herself for morning worship. The service was at the Yoders’ house this week.

  The Yoders lived only a few streets away, so it didn’t take long for them to arrive. Her father pulled the buggy into the side of the yard where several others were already parked. When they came to as stop, she climbed out. A few families lived close enough to the Yoders to walk. That included Seth’s aunt, Carolyn, and her husband, Atlee, who were already slipping into the barn. Carolyn owned the bakery down the road, and Atlee was a cabinetmaker and carpenter. They lived in a small house Atlee had built next to the bakery. They were an older couple, but they didn’t have any children.

  She started for the barn but then saw the Bontrager boys arrive. They lived near the Yoders and approached the property in staggered groups. Zeke and Zeb were in the lead, followed by two sets of younger brothers, then the youngest children and their parents. Thirteen children were in the family, twelve of them boys, and four of them close to her age. Zeb and Zeke, the oldest of two sets of twins, reached the edge of the Yoders’ driveway first. This was her moment to stand her ground. She would walk into the service, and if either of the boys said anything to her, she would pleasantly acknowledge him, but that was all.

  Her brain was willing, but her feet wouldn’t move. Her stomach started to twist in knots. What if one of them—or all of them—became angry with her the way Paul was? What if they ended up hating her the way he did?

  Martha ducked behind one of the buggies, disappointed in herself. Why was she such a coward?

  “Hiding out again?”

  Martha whirled around to see Seth standing behind her—smirking. He hadn’t teased her about avoiding suitors when she’d invaded his woodshop yesterday, but she got the feeling he was now. Maybe he would have if he hadn’t been so aggravated by her sudden appearance. Yet he’d showed some concern, and in the end, he’d agreed to teach her carving. She preferred the less cantankerous Seth to the mocking one she was seeing now. She didn’t like being teased about this.

  She opened her mouth to say something, then froze when she saw the huge red lump above his swollen eye. “Goodness, what happened to you?”

  “Had a bit of a run-in with a wasp nest.” He waved off her concern. “It’s nix.”

  “It doesn’t look like nix.” She took a step toward him, inspecting the sting. “Does it hurt?”

  “Feels better than it did yesterday.”

  “You probably should have stayed home.”

  He shook his head. “First, a wasp sting isn’t an excuse to miss church. Second, church is at mei haus. Unlike some people, I’m not going to hide while the service is going on.” He grinned.

  “I’m not hiding.”

  He glanced around the buggy, then looked at her. “They went inside the barn.”

  “Who?” Martha said, feigning ignorance.

  “Zeb and Zeke. That’s who you’re hiding from, ya?”

  The spark of amusement in his eyes annoyed her. “I told you I’m not hiding.”

  “Then let’s geh to church.” There was that grin again.

  “I will . . . in a minute.”

  His smile disappeared. “You really are afraid, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not afraid.” She glanced away, her hands folding together. “I just don’t want to upset anyone. That’s all.”

  “But you’re upset, like you were when you first burst into mei woodshop.” He peered down at her. “Is that any better?”

  She looked at him and nodded. “Ya. It is.”

  He regarded her for a moment. “Cevilla and I talked the other day.”

  Her cheeks heated, and not because it was so hot out. She was surprised he’d brought that up, considering he hadn’t said anything about Cevilla when they were in the woodshop yesterday. “I guess you didn’t discuss the weather.”

  “Nope.” He pushed back his black hat as if he wanted to see her better. “She told me about yer mann problems.”

  She straightened, indignant. He made it sound like she had a contagious disease. “Excuse me, but I don’t have any problems with men.”

  “Your behavior seems to support that idea, and that has to be why Cevilla asked me to pretend to date you.”

  “Cevilla should mind her own business,” Martha muttered.

  “Guess Cevilla has it all wrong, then? Even though you’ve been running away and hiding?” His grin returned. “I guess I’ll have to tell her she made a mistake—”

  “Nee!” She grimaced. That came out more forcefully than she’d planned, but she didn’t want him talking to Cevilla again. That would make things worse.

  “So you do have mann problems.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  He chuckled, then peered around the buggy again. “As entertaining as this conversation is, we should get to church. Daed doesn’t like it when I’m late.”

  She didn’t want to disappoint Freemont. He was a nice man, and a good bishop. She also didn’t appreciate being Seth’s morning entertainment, and she was glad to end the conversation before she was further humiliated. At some point she would have to clarify things with Seth, but it was time to go to church. Mann problems. What a weird way to describe her predicament.

  “The coast is clear,” Seth said. At her annoyed look he added, “Just helping you out.”

  Why was he being so irritating? “Let’s geh already.” Eager to get to church and away from Seth, she shoved past him and the buggy and headed toward the barn. She was halfway there when she heard an unfamiliar voice ring out.

  “Yoo-hoo! Seth!”

  She turned around to see Seth skid to a halt a few inches behind her. Marching toward them was an older woman Martha had never seen before, accompanied by a younger woman who appeared to be close to Martha’s age. She trailed behind, dragging her feet. They didn’t have many visitors from other communities at church services, although Ruby had said her brother, Timothy, who was the church deacon, had mentioned that more people than ever were interested in visiting Birch Creek.

  “Hi,” Seth said, sounding less confident than he had a minute ago.

  The older woman picked up her pace and stopped in front of Seth. Martha could see she was younger than Cevilla but older than Martha’s mother. The woman looked up at him, then turned to speak to the young woman next to her. “Nina,” she said, waving her hand, “hurry over here. Service is starting shortly, and we need to take care of business.”

  The girl rolled her eyes. Curious, Martha didn’t move, and neither woman acknowledged her. The young woman had a unique look about her. Stout was the first word that came to Martha’s mind, and she had the thickest black eyebrows she’d ever seen. They were paired with large, round, brown eyes, and a nose that was a bit on the big side. The entire combination, while unusual, made her rather attractive, in Martha’s opinion. Except right now she had a scowl on her face, as if she’d rather be anywhere than here. How do they know Seth?

  The older woman wiped her forehead with a plain white handkerchief. Heat and humidity hung in the air like a wet wool blanket, and it had yet to rain. “I’m glad I caught you before you went into the service, Seth,” she said. “I didn’t have a chance to properly introduce myself and mei grossdochder to you yesterday.” She held out her hand. “I’m Delilah Stoll, and this is . . . Nina.” She introduced her granddaughter as if she were royalty.

  “Nice to meet you, uh, again.” He gave Martha an awkward glance. “This is Martha Detweiler.”

  But Delilah kept ignoring her. “Nina would like to thank you for yer help.”

  “She thanked me yesterday,” Seth pointed out. “That was thanks enough.”

  “It was not, considering what you did for her.” She nudged Nina with her elbow. “Thank the yung mann, Nina.”

  Martha
wondered if something was wrong with Nina. She seemed too old to be treated like such a child.

  Nina rubbed her nose, then thrust her hands behind her back. “Danki.” Her grimace deepened. Was that because of Delilah? Or Seth? Martha wasn’t sure.

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  “Yer eye is looking a little better.”

  “It’s healing.” Seth shifted from one foot to the other. Martha had never seen him looking this uncomfortable.

  “To show our gratitude, you’re invited to supper this week.” Delilah’s smile was a bit calculating, Martha thought. The woman also reminded Martha of Cevilla, especially when Cevilla was up to something.

  Seth’s panicked gaze darted from Delilah to Nina. “That’s not necessary.”

  “Of course it is.” Delilah’s grin widened. “We’ll expect you at six sharp on Tuesday. You’ll have to excuse the mess, though. We’re in the process of adding on to the inn.”

  “The inn?” Martha asked.

  As if she’d noticed Martha for the first time, Delilah looked at her. Her smile dimmed a bit. “Ya. Mei sohn bought the English haus on Parker Street, and we’re converting it into a small inn.”

  Stoll. This was the woman Ruby introduced herself to, then. But Delilah hadn’t said anything to Ruby about the home being transformed into an inn. Martha thought that was an excellent idea.

  Delilah looked back at Seth. “The renovations shouldn’t interfere with us having a lovely supper.”

  “Grossmammi,” Nina said, “maybe we should wait until another time—”

  “Nonsense. It’s best to get to know everyone as soon as possible. Then we’ll feel like a part of the community.”

  Nina opened her mouth, then pressed her lips tightly together, as if she was used to not getting very far with her grandmother.

  “Seth, Nina can tell you all about her latest quilting project,” Delilah gushed. “She’s excellent with a needle.”

  “Sounds . . . fascinating.”

  “Trust me, it isn’t,” Nina grumbled.

  Seth took a step back from them and shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t make it on Tuesday.”

  “Oh?” Delilah gasped as if she’d never had one of her invitations refused. “Why not?”

  “Grossmammi,” Nina hissed.

  “Because . . .” He glanced at Martha, his eyes filled with pleading. He couldn’t say he was busy teaching her woodworking. That would spoil his secret.

  “Because?” Delilah asked again, this time looking straight at Martha.

  She had to come up with something quick. Seth apparently had forgotten how to talk. “Because mei mudder already invited him for supper that night,” she said, the words rushing out. She squeezed her eyes shut. Good gravy, of all the excuses she could have come up with, why had she given that one?

  “I see.” Delilah sniffed. “I didn’t realize you two were together.”

  “We’re not,” Martha and Seth said at the same time. They glanced at each other before Martha added, “Mamm wants to thank him for helping us out the other day. Seth’s such a helpful person.” Oh boy, she was terrible at this. She just used the same reasoning Delilah had. Why couldn’t she come up with an original thought?

  “Apparently.” Delilah brightened. “Wednesday will work fine as well.”

  Nina shook her head. “We’re having the floor replaced in the kitchen, remember?”

  “That’s right.” Delilah dabbed her damp brow again. “We’ll schedule it another time, then. But we will have you over for supper, Seth. I promise you that. Now, I must find mei sohn and grosssohn to speak to them a moment before we geh inside. They’ve been parking our new horse and buggy.” She turned and strode away.

  Nina mouthed the words I’m sorry, then hurried after her grandmother.

  Seth blew out a breath. “First time I’ve ever heard a supper invitation sound like a threat.” He scowled and turned to her. “What do you mean I’m invited for supper at yer haus? I didn’t help yer family with anything.”

  “I . . . I was trying to help you.”

  “Very helpful.” He wiped the back of his neck with his hand. “Now what are we going to do?”

  She shrugged. “Have supper at mei haus before going to yer woodshop?”

  His scowl deepened. “You haven’t changed yer mind about that, I see.”

  “Of course not.” She lifted her chin. “Besides, yer only alternative is to have supper with Delilah and Nina. Want me to tell them you’re free after all?”

  “Woodcarving it is. And good luck explaining this to yer mudder.” He turned toward the barn. Everyone had already gone inside. “Great. Thanks to Ms. Matchmaker, we’re late to service. I’ll have fun explaining that to Daed later.”

  “How do you know she was matchmaking?”

  “Because that seems to be the prime interest of grandmotherly women in Birch Creek lately.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I just figured it out. Cevilla’s doing the same thing. She’s just being a little less obvious about it.” He shook his head and hurried away.

  Martha frowned. Cevilla was matchmaking the two of them? Now that Seth had said the words out loud, she could see through the ruse. How had she missed it before?

  She felt like this was her fault. But was it really? She hadn’t asked him to help her with Cevilla’s plan—her matchmaking plan, as it turned out. Cevilla had done that. And if he wasn’t so weird about keeping his woodcarving a secret, she wouldn’t have panicked and told Delilah he was coming to her house for supper. She hadn’t even realized that Delilah was attempting to match him with Nina, but now she realized her plan had been glaring. He didn’t have the right to be irritated with her. She had kept his secret. That was the important thing.

  She shook her head and headed for the barn. She needed to focus on the service, not on Seth Yoder, plan B, or how she was going to tell her mother they were having company on Tuesday. Somehow her not-so-simple life had become even more complicated.

  Chapter 5

  Cevilla always sat in the front during services. When she was younger, she wanted to pay attention to the sermon and not be distracted by anyone. Now that she was older—and she wouldn’t admit this to anyone—she was having a bit of trouble hearing. Her nephew, Noah, who had Meniere’s disease and wore hearing aids, had offered to take her to get some. “They’re comfortable once you get used to them,” he’d said. But she wasn’t ready for them. For some reason she felt like it was one step closer to admitting that age was creeping up on her. Noah was in his midthirties. His hearing loss was because of his disease, and while that was tragic, he was still young and vital. Her young and vital days were behind her, something she didn’t like to think about.

  However, sitting in the front didn’t preclude her from looking over her shoulder and watching congregants come into the barn. It was one of her favorite Sunday activities. Not so long ago, Birch Creek had been a small, oppressed district. Now it was growing, and a sense of joy and peace permeated the community. She praised God daily for that. As the different families came inside and everyone settled in on their benches, the women on one side and the men on the other, she couldn’t help but smile. She’d watched from the sidelines as these young couples had found their spouses and started their families, and she’d had a direct hand in her nephew Noah’s relationship with his now wife, Ivy, Freemont’s oldest child.

  Then there were the new families that had moved in. Some were married with children, mostly young, except for a few young adults. Two of those young adults, Chris Ropp and his wife, Ruby, had met in Birch Creek and married last year. Of course, other young men were in the district, eager for a date—or on the hunt for something more permanent.

  And then there were Martha and Seth. Seth had rejected her plan B, but that didn’t mean Cevilla had given up on them. The more she dwelled on the coupling, the more she was sure they belonged together. She had been right about Noah and Ivy, and about Lucy and Shane, the young
couple she’d matched two years ago. She was confident she was correct about Martha and Seth too. So when she saw them walking into the service together right before the singing began, with Seth darting to the men’s side of the barn and Martha slipping into an empty seat next to Ruby, she couldn’t help but grin. Perhaps they were both protesting too much when it came to their lack of interest in each other. I might not have to do anything at all.

  Cevilla reached for her cane, knowing the singing would begin any minute. She looked over her shoulder one last time and saw two men, one older and one younger, both without beards, hurrying into the barn. That surprised her, since they rarely had visitors to Sunday service, although she should start expecting it with the booming growth of Birch Creek. She was about to turn to the front when she saw two women dash into the barn. One of the women was plump and short, her gray hair evident from underneath her kapp. Closer to her own age than not, Cevilla surmised. The young, interesting-looking girl with her must be a niece or a granddaughter.

  The congregation stood, and Cevilla moved to stand, her back creaking as she did. Richard sometimes attended service with her, sitting in the back as a non-Amish guest, although today he was going to a Mennonite church. She didn’t begrudge him that. He wasn’t Amish, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to join the church. She tried not to let that bother her. She was grateful for his companionship, but sometimes she let herself wish for more. That wouldn’t happen if he didn’t become Amish, and she would never pressure him to do that. That wasn’t the Amish way.

  Cevilla shifted her attention to the service. She concentrated on worship, then on the sermon Timothy Glick, the district minister, gave. He was a little rough around the edges, but Freemont had been as well when he first started. It was the content of the sermon that mattered to her, not the delivery system.

  After church she spent her usual time chatting with everyone while maintaining an eye on Seth and Martha, who had slipped out of the barn right after the service. Separately, she noticed with a little disappointment. But maybe they were meeting up later. She’d have to figure out a way to find out what was really going on with them. Richard would probably chastise her for her nosiness, but he didn’t realize the importance of the situation. His granddaughter, Meghan, had been engaged once, but now she was focused on her career as an interior decorator and had no plans for marriage. The Amish culture was different. Most of the women married, and she was one of the few exceptions. But as Martha said, she wasn’t uninterested in marriage. She just didn’t want to be pressured into a relationship.