The Farmer's Bride

by Kathleen Fuller

  She didn’t mind at all. She patted the grassy spot next to her. When he sat down, she noticed he didn’t have a pole or bait. “You’re not fishing?”

  He shook his head. “Nah. Sometimes I come out here just to enjoy the peace and quiet.”

  “But it’s Friday night. Don’t you have plans?”

  “Like a date?” He raised a dark eyebrow, then looked away.

  “I was thinking more of a social event. Don’t you have singings and frolics here?”

  “Yeah, but I’ve decided to quit going to those.” He tugged on a blade of grass. “I used to think I might have a chance with someone . . .” He shook his head. “She’s made it clear she’s not interested.” He looked at Nina. “I’m not gonna beg someone to like me.”

  Nina couldn’t imagine him having to beg anyone to like him. He was very attractive, not to mention friendly and nice. She didn’t know him that well, but what she did know she found appealing. It also dawned on her who he was interested in. “You’re talking about Martha.”

  “Obviously. She’s the only maedel in Birch Creek.”

  “I see.” She looked at her bare feet. Martha wasn’t the only girl in the community now. Then again, why would Ira notice that? Nina was used to being treated like one of the boys and ignored as a girl. Why would Ira see her any differently? The bigger question was why did being ignored as a girl matter to her? It never had before.

  “Sorry,” he said, touching her shoulder. “I shouldn’t be dumping mei problems on you.”

  “That’s all right.” She lightly tugged on the line, so the bait and hook would move in the water and hopefully catch a fish’s attention. “I’ve been told I’m a gut listener.”

  “You are.” He kept his gaze on hers for a moment, then spoke. “Anyway, there’s not much to do tonight. Judah’s next door with the Chupps, and Seth and Daed have been thick as thieves lately. They’ve got the farm ledgers spread out on the table at home, and they’re looking them over for some reason.” He shrugged. “Can’t think of anything more boring than that, so I decided to come here and talk to the fish. They’re gut listeners too.” He grinned.

  She smiled back. “Where’s yer mamm?”

  “At mei schwester Karen’s. She and Ivy and Mamm are doing some kind of craft thing. They usually do when they get together.” He laid back on the grassy bank and clasped his hands behind his head. “I wonder when we’re going to get some rain. We sure do need it.”

  She looked at her pole, then glanced at him over her shoulder. “Do you want to use mei fishing rod? I don’t mind sharing.”

  He shook his head. “I’m fine here.”

  Nina faced the pond and tugged on the rod again. Maybe the fish weren’t biting tonight. That would be okay. She didn’t always have to catch something to enjoy fishing.

  A few seconds later she felt a pull on her line. She jumped to her feet and started to reel it in.

  “You get a bite?” Ira scrambled up from the ground and stood next to her.

  “Ya.” She pulled on the pole, then turned the reel again. A sunfish dangled from the hook as she pulled it out of the water.

  “That’s a gut-sized one,” Ira said.

  Nina nodded. It was a nice-looking fish. She brought it closer, released it from the hook, and then let it go back into the pond.

  Ira looked at her. “Catch and release tonight?”

  “Ya. I forgot to bring mei creel. I don’t feel like taking fish home and cleaning them tonight anyway.” She turned and looked for her container of bait.

  Ira spotted it before she did and handed it to her. She opened it and pulled out a ball of bread. She hadn’t had time to find any live worms.

  “Do you want some live bait? I can run to the haus and get some.”

  “Nee. This seems to be working fine.” She cast the line back into the pond, then sat down.

  Ira paused. Then he said, “I’ll be right back.”

  After a few minutes Ira returned with a pole and some bait. “I changed mei mind,” he said, plopping down next to her. “Couldn’t sit here and just watch you fish.” He baited his hook, then cast his line.

  They didn’t say anything, just sat in the dusky evening and waited for the fish to bite again. To the west the sun had disappeared behind the trees, and fireflies began to appear. Nina couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Friday night. Her grandmother had encouraged her to fish, which was a miracle. She’d made a friend in Martha, and now possibly with Ira. Birch Creek wasn’t as horrible as she’d initially thought it would be.

  “This is nice,” she said, turning to him.

  Ira looked at her and smiled. “Ya. It definitely is.”

  Chapter 12

  As the rest of July and half of August passed, Martha couldn’t have been happier. She spent two, sometimes three nights a week in Seth’s woodshop. She pored over the dusty woodworking books on his shelves and familiarized herself with each tool. By the end of the second week she was already carving some fancy designs in the wooden plaques she enjoyed making. She’d even bought stencils and had started to carve some simple signs with short verses or inspirational words on them. She often lost track of time while she was working.

  Except at church, she hadn’t seen Seth since their supper at the Stolls’. Other than at the shop and church, she hadn’t seen anyone, really, as she had become consumed with her new hobby. She now understood why Seth wanted to keep this a secret. No one was here to bother her or question what she was doing. She was free to create.

  The only exception to her happiness was the fact that she still hadn’t told her parents she and Seth weren’t together. When she arrived home from the Stolls’ that night when Cevilla and Richard had unexpectedly showed up, her parents had been in bed. She had decided to tell them the next morning. But when she woke up, they’d left on an impromptu trip to Holmes County, and when they returned, she was in the woodshop. When she got home and her mamm asked if she’d been with Seth, she’d said yes.

  “Have you decided to keep yer dating a secret for now?” her mother asked.

  Martha knew some couples preferred that, unwilling to face scrutiny from the community. “Ya,” she’d quickly answered, glad for a plausible excuse. “We have. If you and Daed could keep this to yerselves, and not even talk to Seth’s parents about it—”

  “Of course. We understand.”

  Those were outright lies, but she didn’t want to break her word to Seth, and she realized it was better if her parents thought she was spending time with him. That way she could keep his secret, and they wouldn’t ask any more questions. They seemed pleased about her and Seth being together.

  But now as she unlocked the door to the woodshop, guilt plagued her, and it was growing stronger each day. She would have to tell them the truth soon, or the guilt would swallow her up. Nothing was going on between her and Seth, and it never would.

  For now, she was going to focus on her woodworking. She chose a stencil and took the sanded plaque she’d made the other day to the worktable. Carefully, she started to carve the word love on the plaque in large letters.

  The door to the shop opened.

  Martha whirled around, her heart thumping in her chest. Then she saw it was Seth. “Goodness, you scared me,” she said, leaning limply against the worktable. “I thought I locked the door.”

  “You did. I have a key too.” He walked into the woodshop and looked around, then let out a low whistle. “Wow, is this mei shop?”

  Hearing him talk about the shop so possessively was a stark reminder that she was the interloper here, even though he’d given her free rein. How long would he allow her access? Surely he wanted to get back to the hobby he loved—a hobby he preferred to do alone. The thought of not being able to come here and work made her heart wrench. She shoved the feeling aside. “I did a little cleaning,” she said, giving him a smile not 100 percent genuine.

  “I’d say you did more than a little.” He walked around the shop. She had cleaned all the sh
elves, organized his tools, brought bins for the different sized wood and categorized them, wiped off his books and put them all in the same place, and always left the shop clean and swept before she left. Since she had barely started on today’s project, it looked pristine.

  “I can’t think in chaos.” She bit her lip. “Not that I’m saying yer shop was chaotic.”

  He laughed. “Oh, it was. I don’t have a problem with it, though.”

  Her teeth sank into her lip further. “Do you have a problem with it now?”

  Seth looked at her, his expression sincere. “Nee. I absolutely don’t.”

  Relieved, she picked up her plaque and prepared to put it away. “I can work on this later.”

  But he didn’t answer her. He was looking at two of the shelves she’d cleared off to put her finished projects. They were full of the lacquered plaques. He pulled one down. “God is love,” he said, reading the words aloud.

  She set down the plaque and hurried to him. “That was mei first one,” she said, taking it from him, feeling self-conscious. “It’s not that gut.”

  He touched the plaque. “May I?”

  After a pause, she nodded and let him take it. He studied it for a few minutes, then set it back on the shelf. “You’re doing gut work.”

  “Danki,” she said softly. His compliment meant a lot to her.

  He took down another plaque, looked at it, and then replaced it and looked at another. She put her hands behind her back, the self-consciousness coming back. The plaques had a variety of small designs on them, from flowers to ladybugs to curlicues that weren’t perfect, but gave the end product homemade charm.

  “You learned all this in a month?” Seth turned and faced her.

  She nodded. “You have some great instructional books.”

  “I guess I do,” he mumbled, glancing around the shop again.

  Martha went back to the worktable and picked up the plaque she’d been working on. “Like I said, I can work on this later.” She looked at him. “If it’s all right with you, that is.”

  His expression was impassive. Then he spoke. “You can work on it now. I can’t stay long. I just came because . . .”

  “You missed being here?”

  “Ya.”

  “Then why don’t you come back?”

  He sighed. He looked hot and tired, his forearms tanned and muscular. “I don’t have the time. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy.” He gave her a half smile. “I’m glad mei things are going to gut use.”

  She saw a forlorn look in his eyes, as if he’d given up on his hobby completely. But there was no way he’d do that. He couldn’t give this up. She understood that now more than ever. To cheer him up, she gestured to the shelving unit. “Did you see where I put yer projects?” She’d set them up in a nice display.

  “Ya,” he muttered, looking away. “I saw them.”

  For some reason he seemed disappointed, and she didn’t want that. She searched her mind for something to bring a smile to his face. A smile I’ve missed. “I need some help with sweep cuts,” she said.

  “Yer sweep cuts look gut to me.”

  “They could be better. Would you show me?”

  He hesitated, then finally nodded and walked over to the worktable.

  They practiced sweep cuts on scrap wood for a little while. “I can see where you’re having the problem.” He put his hand over hers on the handle of the tool. “Keep yer wrist relaxed. Like this.”

  The shiver down her spine was back. It intensified when he moved to stand behind her. Because he was several inches taller, he could guide her hand with the tool and still see what he was doing.

  “Right,” he said, his voice low. “You’re getting the hang of it.”

  In truth she had lost her concentration the moment he put his hand on hers. She had no idea if she was getting the hang of anything. All she knew was that the shiver was gone, replaced with a wildly thumping heart. But instead of warning bells going off in her brain, she began to relax.

  Seth took a step closer until her back was against his chest. Thinking he would move after he realized he was so close, she was surprised when he remained in place. His hand stilled in the middle of the cut, and she could feel him breathing near her ear.

  Then he cleared his throat and moved away. “Uh, yeah. You’ve got it now.”

  She turned to see him backing up. “Yeah,” she said, feeling a little breathless. “I think I do.”

  He stopped when his back hit the door. “I, uh, I’ve got to get home. Lots of, uh, work to do there.”

  “Right.” She couldn’t keep her gaze from his. Her heart still hammered in her chest, and she realized she didn’t want him to leave. “You don’t have to—”

  “Bye.” He threw open the door and ran out.

  She leaned against the worktable, willing her heart to slow. As it regained its normal rhythm, she began to think clearly. Oh bother. Why had she reacted to him like that? As though she liked him? As though she were attracted to him? Very attracted.

  Martha sighed, confused, her woodworking completely forgotten. All she could think about was how she’d felt when Seth was close to her. It felt right being that close to him in the woodshop he loved so much. Very right, even though she knew it was wrong.

  * * *

  Seth slowed down in the middle of the woods before he reached the field that backed up to his father’s land. He bent over, put his hands on his knees, and drew in a deep breath. He’d run the entire way from his woodshop—in the heat, no less. What had happened back there? All he’d wanted to do was show Martha a different way to hold the tool. That had turned into moving closer to her . . . and then wanting to turn her around and hold her in his arms.

  He stood up and blew out a breath. How stupid was he to think Martha would want him to embrace her? He’d expected her to elbow him in the stomach when he moved near her. Instead she stood there, and he thought he heard a small sigh. That had nearly undone him, and he knew he had to get out of there. Because if he hadn’t, he would have gone with his impulse. And from the crazy way he’d been acting this summer, he would have done something completely wrong . . . like kiss her.

  He started to walk, although slowly. He hadn’t expected her to be in the shop, much less see everything she’d done to it. The transformation was impressive. He hadn’t realized how messy his shop had been until it was cleaned up, and he did like it. He also liked her carvings. She had innate talent, that was plain. With a little more practice and some polish on those plaques, she could easily sell her creations.

  She was ahead of him already, and he’d been doing woodworking for more than a year. His creations paled in comparison, and a stab of jealousy hit him. This was his dream, not hers. She didn’t have the right to be better at it than him. Then he realized the ridiculousness of his own thoughts. She had a gift. He didn’t.

  Not that it mattered anyway. His father had started to show some more signs of poor eyesight over the past month, and tomorrow he had an appointment in Cleveland to see a specialist. That made their time together more urgent, and Seth had been consumed with the ins and outs of farmwork, both the technical side and the nuances of it. He had to admit that he was starting to reevaluate his feelings about farming. No doubt it was demanding work, but it was also challenging and satisfying. He had a new appreciation for the food on the table now that he knew exactly what it took to get it there. Before he’d seen the work as chores; now he was seeing it as more.

  But he still missed being at the shop and had planned to do some simple whittling this evening. Then he’d found Martha there. He’d genuinely thought she might do a bit of fiddling around with the wood and tools a few times, get bored, and then give up. Now he could see that wasn’t going to happen. It shouldn’t happen.

  He’d used the farm as an excuse to get away from Martha, but he had a little time before he had to get back. He started to walk down the road, away from his house. The temperatures in August had been as hot as they were in Jul
y, but today they were a bit cooler. They’d had a few pop-up showers over the past couple of weeks, but the ground was still parched, and some of the leaves were already brown. They’d skipped their normal autumn color.

  A buggy approached. He recognized the couple inside as it neared. Martha’s parents. He waved at them, expecting them to pass him by. Instead, they pulled to a stop beside him.

  “Hi, Seth,” her mother said, a surprised look on her face. “Where’s Martha?”

  “Martha?”

  “We know you two want to keep yer relationship a secret. You haven’t even been to our haus for weeks. But we already know how you feel about each other.” She tapped her husband’s knee. “Don’t we, John?”

  He nodded and looked at him. “We thought Martha was with you tonight.”

  “She told you that?”

  “She didn’t have to,” her mother said. “She’s usually with you when she goes out during the week. Right?”

  Realization dawned. Martha had never told her parents they’d been pretending to like each other that night at their house, all for the sake of implementing plan B at the Stolls’. “I was with her earlier,” he said, anger rising inside him as he tried to think of an excuse to tell them. He wasn’t about to ruin his secret because Martha couldn’t stop lying. “I needed to run home for something.”

  “Isn’t yer haus in the opposite direction?”

  “Um, ya. But I’m heading to . . . Ruby’s haus. Martha’s meeting me there.”

  Her mother tilted her head, a puzzled expression on her face.

  “Regina, we need to get to the Beilers’. We’re late as it is.” Martha’s father tapped the reins on the horse’s back.

  “Nice to see you,” her mother said, the confusion still there as Martha’s father chirruped to the horse. “Don’t be a stranger, now.”

  Seth waved and grinned, the grin falling from his face as they disappeared down the road. He continued to walk a little farther as if he were really going to Ruby’s. When the Detweilers had turned at the end of the road, he took off in the direction of the woodshop.