The Farmer's Bride

by Kathleen Fuller

  He was out of breath when he got there. He’d run more in the span of a half hour than he had all summer. He tried to open the door, but Martha had locked it after he left, something he would have appreciated if he wasn’t so upset. Maybe she’d left too. He hoped not. If she had, he’d have to go to her house and find her. The thought of running back there made him even angrier.

  His key clicked in the lock and he opened the door. She was placing her plaque on the shelf with the rest of them, a satisfied look on her face right before she turned her head toward him. Her eyes widened with surprise. “Seth, what are you doing back—”

  “You didn’t tell yer parents, did you?” He stormed over to her until he was almost standing on her toes. “You didn’t tell them the truth.”

  * * *

  Martha’s stomach turned with dread. “How did you find out?”

  “I just saw them. They thought I was with you, or you were with me. Whatever, they thought we were together. Apparently, they think we’ve been together all this time.” He leaned over her, furious. “Don’t they?”

  “Ya,” she squeaked.

  He groaned. “You said you were going to tell them it was all a ruse.”

  “I know. And I intended to. I promise I did.” She threaded her fingers together. He was really angry, and she didn’t blame him.

  “Who else thinks we’re an item?” He made quotes in the air.

  “Nee one else. I haven’t said a word about us to anyone.”

  “Us?” He ground out. “There’s nee us, Martha.”

  She was painfully aware of that, now that she truly wished there was. She’d thought she’d given up on men, only to find herself with intense feelings for Seth. Feelings he clearly didn’t return. “I know. But it was a gut excuse. They didn’t question where I went as long as they thought I was with you. So I didn’t have to lie to them to be here.” She tried to smile. “See, I was keeping yer secret.”

  He glared at her, looked away, then rubbed his eyes with his thumb and finger. “So you’re saying this is mei fault.”

  She held two fingers close together. “A little.”

  Seth blew out a breath, looked up at the ceiling, then looked at her. “I guess I can see that.” He sounded calmer, and the redness in his face had subsided. “This is both our faults.”

  “But mostly mine.” Martha shook her head. “I’m sorry, Seth.” Her voice started to wobble. “I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”

  “Hey.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right. We’ll figure this out.”

  She looked up at him, and their gazes locked for a moment. Then Seth moved away from her. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his grass-stained work pants. “We need to tell them. Together. Tonight.”

  Martha’s mouth dropped open. “Tonight? Why don’t we wait until tomorrow—”

  “Because it’s time to end this. All of it, once and for all.”

  She tilted her head, stunned. It really was her fault they were in this mess, all because she’d been a coward. She was hiding behind lies and running away so she wouldn’t have to do something hard—be truthful. Seth had only wanted to keep his secret safe, which he had a right to. She wouldn’t even know about this place if she hadn’t barged into it when she was running away from the other single men at Ruby’s. He didn’t need to face her parents. She did. “Nee. I’ll tell them. It’s mei responsibility.”

  He shook his head, looking at her intently. “Nee. It’s both of ours.”

  Something pulled inside her chest. She had given him an easy out—one she probably would have taken, considering her track record lately—but he was standing his ground. How could she not like this man? How could she not—

  No, this couldn’t be happening. She hadn’t fallen in love with him, had she? That was nonsense. They hadn’t even officially dated. Yes, there was a spark of attraction. She had to admit that. But love? That was something different. Something far deeper. Something she had never felt before. Not with Paul.

  Only with Seth.

  Now what was she supposed to do?

  “Yer parents were on their way to the Beilers’,” he said.

  “Huh?” She looked at him, and that same warm sensation filled her, like a jar of honey that had spent the day in the sunshine. She ignored it. She wasn’t in love with Seth Yoder. That wasn’t possible. Besides, they had just agreed to tell her parents they felt nothing for each other. Yet Martha knew that would be another lie, at least for her.

  “Hello?” Seth leaned down and looked her in the eye, annoyed. “Are you listening, Martha?”

  “I’m listening,” she said, her voice quiet, her mind trying to focus on what he was saying. “Mamm and Daed said they were visiting the Beilers for a little while tonight. They won’t be gone that long, since they don’t live too far away.”

  “Then we’ll geh to yer haus and wait for them.”

  Did she have a choice? Just because she’d realized her feelings for Seth didn’t mean she didn’t have to fix things with her parents. She nodded, dread reaching to her toes. Seth deserved to have the record set straight. “Ya,” she said, unable to fake a shred of enthusiasm. At least she was being honest for once. “Let’s geh.”

  * * *

  Delilah knocked on Cevilla’s front door. She’d been invited to her house for supper, via Richard dropping by yesterday and hand delivering an invitation. Delilah had been surprised to read what the card said, written in neat script.

  Please do us the honor of having supper with us tomorrow night.

  Cevilla

  P.S.—I hope you like pork chops.

  She did like pork chops, but that’s not why she accepted the invitation. She had yet to make amends with Cevilla. They had nodded to each other at church, and God was urging her to apologize for her past behavior. The excuse of having lots of work to do and decisions to make with the inn wasn’t enough. She’d been avoiding Cevilla. It had never been easy for Delilah Stoll to apologize, but as she held the still-warm peach cobbler in her hands, she knew she couldn’t avoid Cevilla forever. The woman had extended an olive branch, Delilah assumed. It would be poor form not to accept it.

  The door opened, and Richard stood there. He smiled, his eyes pleasant and warm. “Hello, Delilah. We’re glad you could make it.”

  She nodded. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  “Cevilla’s in the kitchen finishing up the potato salad. I’m just about to put the pork chops on the grill. Please make yourself at home.”

  Delilah nodded, and more than once she wondered what type of relationship Cevilla and Richard had. She’d never seen the man at church, and he was wearing typical English clothes—light-brown trousers and a short-sleeved checked shirt—and his hair was cut short. It was clear he and Cevilla were close . . . but how close? And why did no one in the community seem concerned about it?

  She stopped her thoughts. She wasn’t here to snoop. She was here to apologize, get through supper, and go back home, her duty done. She walked into the kitchen just as Cevilla put a small bowl of potato salad on the table.

  “Hello,” she said, looking up. She smiled, as if she and Delilah had been friends for a long time.

  “Hello.” Delilah was thrown a little off guard. She held up the cobbler. “I brought dessert.”

  “Wonderful. I have some pudding setting in the fridge, but we’ll have yer dessert instead. You can set it on the counter near the sink.”

  Delilah followed Cevilla’s instructions, then turned around. She looked around the kitchen. It was small, but neat and adequate. In addition to the potato salad, the table held a plate of pickles, a loaf of sliced bread, butter and jam, and a small plate of raw carrots, cucumbers, celery, and cherry tomatoes. It all looked delicious.

  “Richard’s been eager to use his new grill,” Cevilla said, gesturing to the back patio. “I’ve never grilled in mei life, but he says it’s the one aspect of cooking he’s confident in.”

  “How long have you two
known each other?” Delilah couldn’t help asking.

  “Sixty plus years, I guess.” Cevilla looked at her. “I suppose you have some other questions too.”

  She sniffed. “I don’t want to be nosy.”

  Cevilla laughed. “I’d be disappointed if you weren’t.” Then she sobered. “We got off on the wrong foot, Delilah, and I’m sorry about that. I behaved badly at yer haus.” She frowned. “I’m embarrassed by mei behavior.”

  Her sincere apology helped spur on Delilah’s. “Nee need. I was just as much in the wrong. It’s just that when it comes to mei grosskinner, I want what’s best for them.”

  “I understand.” Cevilla looked at her. “I don’t have children of mei own, but I’ve lived in Birch Creek for more than twenty years. The familyes here have become mei familye, their kinner mei grosskinner. You were wise to choose Seth and Martha. They’re fine yung adults.”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice when it came to Martha,” she said, then grimaced. “That didn’t sound right.”

  “You’re being honest. I appreciate that.”

  Delilah nodded, understanding. Now that she was admitting things, she said, “I’ve been told I meddle too much.”

  “Funny, I’ve been told the same thing.” Cevilla chuckled. “It’s true, unfortunately.” She turned and shuffled back to the stove. “I’m trying to stop, though. It’s not easy.”

  “Nee, it isn’t.”

  “What do you want to drink?” Cevilla asked as she put a teakettle on the stove.

  “I’ve always been partial to peppermint tea.”

  Cevilla turned and smiled. “So am I. I think we might become friends after all.”

  Delilah lifted her chin. She wasn’t ready for friendship, but a nice supper would be a start. “Perhaps we will . . . someday.”

  Chapter 13

  Martha tapped her foot as she sat in the living room with Seth and waited for her parents to return from the Beilers’. It was eight o’clock, and she’d thought they’d be back by now. She stared at her untouched glass of iced tea on the table with droplets of condensation running down the side. In contrast, Seth had downed his tea as soon as she handed it to him. “Do you want something else to drink?”

  “I’m fine.” He was seated next to her on the couch, which she thought was confusing since they had plenty of other places for him to sit. It did present them as a united front, though. Perhaps that was what he was thinking. Not her. Her thoughts were all about being so close to him. Her foot tapped faster.

  “Do you mind?” He sounded agitated.

  She stilled. “Sorry.” So much for him enjoying their proximity. “Do you want to do a puzzle?” They both needed something to distract them while they waited.

  He shook his head. “I thought you said yer folks were gone for a short visit.”

  “Maybe they decided to stay longer.” She started to get up. “It’s getting late. We can do this another—”

  Seth pulled her back down. “We’ll do it tonight. I don’t care how long we have to wait.”

  Martha folded her hands in her lap. From this moment on she was going to be honest. Fudging the truth, deception, lying by omission—none of that was worth the guilt and anxiety she was experiencing. If one of the boys wanted to ask her out, she would politely and gently tell him no, not run away. If Cevilla came up with any more matchmaking plans, she would politely and gently tell her no too. Then she would tell her again, because Cevilla could be stubborn. Last, she was never, ever going to drag someone else into her problems. “I really am sorry, Seth.”

  “You’ve said that already. Several times.” He looked at her, his expression softening. “It’s okay, Martha. We both wove this tangled web, and we’ll unravel it together.”

  “That was poetic,” she said, managing a small smile.

  He grinned. “You want to put that on one of yer plaques?”

  “It would take a big plaque.” She paused. “And a lot of skill.”

  “You have the skill.” He sobered. “And the talent.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. Yer work is far ahead of mine.”

  “Nee it isn’t.” But she blushed at the compliment.

  “You should think of selling your work.”

  Her eyes widened. “Nee, I couldn’t do that.”

  “You could.” Seth looked at her intensely. “I’m sure mei schwester Ivy would love to have some of yer pieces in her shop.”

  “Doesn’t she run an antique store?”

  “Ya, but they also sell some locally created things. She’s been working with Noelle O’Brien, the woman who owns the yarn and craft store next to her. They’ve been cross-selling and promoting. I didn’t realize Ivy had such savvy business sense.”

  “Still,” she said, shaking her head, “those plaques aren’t gut enough to sell.”

  “Try it and find out.”

  Martha ran her hand over her knee. “What if they don’t sell?”

  “Then you haven’t lost anything, have you?”

  “Have you sold some of yer pieces?”

  He shook his head. “Mine aren’t for sale.”

  “They’re gut enough, though.”

  “They’re not for sale.”

  Martha wondered why Seth didn’t want to sell his woodcarvings, but she wasn’t going to pry. He didn’t owe her an answer. He didn’t owe her anything.

  He stood, went to the front window, and looked outside. It was nearly dark, but he would be able see the lights on her parents’ buggy when they arrived home. They must not have been in sight, because he turned around and looked at her. Then he shook his head and chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s not exactly funny,” he said. “More like ironic. Everything that’s happened recently was because you ran into mei woodshop.” Then he frowned a little. “The guys you were running away from are mei friends, and one is mei bruder. They really are gut people, Martha. You don’t have to be afraid of them.”

  “I wasn’t afraid of them.” She glanced up at him. “It was . . .”

  “It was what?”

  The way he phrased the question with a soft, encouraging tone spurred her to continue. “Three years ago, I had a boyfriend. His name was Paul.” She smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her dress. “We didn’t date very long before I broke up with him. I knew we weren’t right for each other even before that, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.” She wouldn’t go into the details of how possessive and mean he could be, or how he wanted to know what she was doing every minute of the day. Her life hadn’t been her own, and she had the same drowning feeling when the men of Birch Creek were pursuing her.

  “When I ended the relationship, he didn’t take it well. He said some terrible things to me.” She averted her gaze, her throat growing tight. “He said I was selfish and heartless. That I didn’t care about anyone else’s feelings but mei own, and he felt sorry for anyone who would get mixed up with me, because I would ruin their life the way I ruined his.”

  Seth’s mouth turned into a grim line, and he sat down next to her. “He’s wrong. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do, but sometimes I can still hear him saying those words.”

  He shook his head. “He sounds like a loser to me.”

  Martha looked at him. “I don’t want to speak badly of him, any more than I already have.”

  “See, that right there shows you aren’t heartless. This guy treated you horribly, and you’re not lashing out at him behind his back.” Seth paused. “Do you still have feelings for him?”

  “Absolutely not. But I never want to hurt anyone like that again. I’d rather avoid a relationship than be the source of someone else’s pain.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then got up and looked out the window again.

  The tightness in her throat vanished, and a sense of calm came over her. He didn’t judge or blame her for what happened with Paul. Telling him about her past had been difficu
lt, but he had supported her. Her heart warmed. Seth Yoder was special.

  “They’re coming,” he said, rushing back to sit next to her on the couch. He was in such a hurry that when he sat down, he almost sat on top of her. “Sorry,” he mumbled, then scooted over.

  I don’t mind. She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. She had to get her thoughts straight before her parents walked in. I don’t like Seth. I don’t have feelings for Seth. I don’t love—

  Her mother came into the living room, having entered the house from the back door, the closest entry to the barn. She still had her black purse slung over her shoulder when she halted. “Hello,” she said, her grin wide. “I wasn’t expecting you two to be here.”

  Martha swallowed. “Hi, Mamm. Is Daed putting up the horse?”

  “Ya.” She started to head for the stairs. “But don’t mind us. We stayed a little longer at the Beilers’ than we expected, and we’re going straight to bed. You two can visit for as long as you want.”

  Seth let out a sound between a choke and a cough, and Martha knew she had to put him out of his misery. “Actually, we need to talk to you and Daed about something important.”

  Excitement leaped into Mamm’s eyes. “You do? Let me geh get him. The chores can wait for a few minutes.” She tossed her purse on the rocking chair and hurried out of the living room. Martha hadn’t seen her mother move so fast in ages.

  “What did you do that for?” Seth said, glaring at her.

  “Do what?”

  “Now she thinks we’re announcing our engagement.”

  “Nee she doesn’t.” Then she realized that her mother never hurried, and she never took Daed away from his chores. “Oh nee.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” But now his foot was tapping in time with hers. “We’ll clear that right up too.”

  She felt terrible. Couldn’t she do anything right when it came to Seth? As soon as they told her parents the truth, she was staying far, far away from dating. There was less chance for trouble if she did.

  Her mother and father hurried back into the room, Mamm more quickly than Daed. Dread pooled inside her again. She was too old to be grounded for lying, but she would experience something even worse—their disappointment.