Softly Blows the Bugle

by Jan Drexler

  After Aaron was on his way to the barn, Mamm came back to the table, a plate of piecrust cookies in her hand.

  “I made these for your datt, but he won’t miss a few.”

  Elizabeth picked up one of the diamond-shaped cookies dusted with cinnamon. For as long as she could remember, Mamm had made these cookies from the leftover scraps of piecrust dough on baking day. As she took a bite, the taste of the flaky pastry took her back to her childhood.

  “Have I ever told you how sorry I am that I ever looked twice at Reuben?”

  Mamm patted her hand. “I always knew the Good Lord would help you find your way through.”

  Elizabeth took another bite of her cookie. What would Mamm say if she knew about Solomon’s intentions? He would be a man her parents would approve of, but Dulcey’s warnings rang in her ears. Solomon couldn’t be the man his servant had described, but only Dulcey knew what he was like behind closed doors. She reached for another cookie.

  Solomon seemed to be the man who could make her dreams come true. He wanted children and was a good Amishman. He was friendly and helpful to everyone in the community. She wouldn’t risk losing her chance at a good life just because Dulcey didn’t like him.

  “I can’t get over how Aaron has changed,” Mamm said, breaking into her thoughts. “When Jonas first brought him home, I didn’t know what to think. He knew nothing about our ways and appeared to be so sickly. But he has learned our language and willingly goes to church with us, and it turns out that he’s related to our Zook families.”

  “But he isn’t Amish.”

  Mamm’s eyebrows rose. “Does he need to be Amish?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I thought you were getting ready to say he would make a good husband.”

  Laughing, Mamm squeezed her hand. “I don’t know who would be a good husband for you, but if Aaron was Amish—if he joined the church—would you consider him for a husband? The two of you get along well.”

  “I made a promise to myself that I would never marry a man who wasn’t Amish. I made that mistake once. Aaron isn’t Amish, and I don’t think he’ll ever join the church. He wants to go west, not stay around here.”

  “You never know what might happen,” Mamm said as she went to the oven to check on the pies.

  Elizabeth finished her cup of tea. Solomon might not be perfect, but she could trust him to treat her well. He was the man to help her dream of having a family come true.

  She reached for another cookie, ignoring the unsettled thoughts in the back of her mind.

  One bothersome thing about Elizabeth Kaufman, Solomon thought as he fought boredom during the first sermon on Sunday morning, was that she was cautious. Too cautious.

  He forced his knee to stop bouncing and glanced at the man sitting beside him. Amos Beiler sat with a straight back on his bench, gaze forward, as he watched Gideon Fischer preach, his eyes widening or narrowing, depending on whether he agreed with the point Gideon was making or not. In front of him, Abraham Weaver’s head nodded.

  Looking across the aisle to the women’s side, he let a brief smile twitch his lips as he watched Salome. She had proven to be a better source of information than he had first thought. Thanks to her, there was little he didn’t know about the members of the community.

  The Beilers’ home was too small for Sunday meeting, but they took their turn at hosting twice a year like everyone else. At least the place had plenty of windows on all sides of the house, and they were all open to the warm late-June air.

  Solomon stifled a sigh. By the end of the morning, these backless benches would be torturous. But it was the price he needed to pay. A landholding the size he had his eyes on didn’t come easy. He watched Abraham’s snowy hair rub against the man’s neck as his head bobbed. What had Weaver done to acquire his farm? No one achieved the success that he enjoyed without destroying a few lives to get there. Two sections of land, if he included Elizabeth’s quarter section. One thousand two hundred eighty acres of prime farmland, and parts of it were still uncut timber. He flexed his fingers.

  Old Abraham would die soon, and the Weaver land would be divided. Before then, he had to have Elizabeth’s land firmly in his grasp. She was the key to everything.

  The chatter he had heard this morning before the services started was unfortunate. He thought he had the information he needed to keep her in line, but for some reason, she had told everyone she knew about it, not only Dulcey.

  “A secret,” Dulcey had said.

  But it wasn’t a secret anymore.

  He let his eyes drift to the side without moving his head. Elizabeth sat one row in front of him next to some of those tiresome brats. She was lovely, at least. Living with her wouldn’t be as painful as it had been with his last wife. The cow. It had been a chore to just sit across the table from her during the few meals they ate together. But when she had started complaining, well, he knew how to put an end to that. It had been quick, and the fact that there had been a child involved made him the object of sympathy for months afterward.

  Elizabeth was a better prize. The curve of her neck looked soft, with fine hairs curling against her tanned skin. The future was a ripe plum ready to fall into his hand, except for her skittishness. He had worked too hard for the privilege of taking her hand, but she had never let him go any further than that. He wouldn’t be able to compromise her that way, but he would find another way.

  After the meal, Solomon looked for an opportunity to steer Elizabeth away from her friends. Soon, he would have to start weaning her away from them for good. A confidant was a threat to his plans. Finally, she left the kitchen to join the group of women sitting together in the yard. He intercepted her just before she reached the door of the farmhouse.

  “I haven’t had the opportunity to visit with you this morning.” He stood close to her, bending his head toward hers.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  She backed against the wall and glanced toward the door, but Solomon had made sure to place himself between her and her view of her family and friends.

  “I thought perhaps we could go for a drive this afternoon. We need to talk about our future plans.”

  Then she looked at him, her expression calm. Where was the eagerness most girls showed at this stage?

  “We do need to talk. Was the deed in order? And does the marriage certificate prove that I am Reuben’s heir?”

  Solomon was all too aware of the possibility of others listening to their conversation. “We can’t talk here.” He gave her his most seductive look, but she didn’t respond.

  “Let’s take a walk, then. We can walk down the road as far as your house, and then back again.” She bit her lower lip and glanced toward the door again. “I’ll meet you at the end of the farm lane in a few minutes.”

  Ten minutes later, Solomon paced in the road, waiting. Finally, she appeared and fell into step beside him as they walked down the road. She had taken control of the afternoon, leaving him to catch up. That wasn’t how things were going to be, and he needed to show her that now. But how to do that without scaring her off was the problem.

  “I wondered if you were ready to set a date for our wedding.” He caught her hand in his. “I can’t wait until we are man and wife.”

  He stopped walking and pulled her closer to him, bending his head toward her, ready to catch those soft lips in a kiss. To his surprise, she let him place a quick kiss on her lips before she turned away and continued walking, her arms crossed.

  “I’m not convinced we should get married. I’ve made the mistake of marrying the wrong man once, and I don’t want to do it again.” She looked at him, her expression hopeful. That was his opening.

  “Have I ever done anything to make you think we weren’t meant to be together? Just think of the home we will build together.” He counted. One, two, three. “And our family. The children that will fill our home.”

  She stopped, then turned to face him, her eyes searching his. “Is that what you really want, Solomon?”<
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  He took both of her hands in his. “A home. A family. You by my side.”

  Her expression hardened. “I thought you might only want to marry me because I own the quarter section of land next to yours.”

  She was too smart for her own good. He smiled. “I have to admit, that was one reason why I was attracted to you at first. But now that I know you—”

  “If I hadn’t found those papers, the deed and my marriage certificate, would it have made a difference?”

  Solomon worked to keep the irritation off his face. It was time to use his ace. “There was no marriage certificate.”

  That surprised her. Her face turned white and her mouth dropped open. “I saw it. I read it. It was in the papers I gave to you.”

  Solomon shook his head, steadying his sorrowful expression.

  “You were mistaken. There is no proof that you were ever married to that Reuben character. Obviously, the man was a reprobate and took advantage of a young girl.”

  Her face was still white. He led her to a fallen log at the crossroads where she could sit and have a view of the roof of his house. He sat next to her and placed one arm around her shoulders.

  “Without the certificate, how will I prove that I own Reuben’s land?”

  “I’ve already taken care of that.”

  Solomon smiled to reassure her. The wheels were in motion. He would own her land as soon as they were married.

  “The problem,” he said, keeping his voice calm and reassuring, “is that the Amish community thinks you are a moral woman. Foolish, perhaps, but moral. They believe you were in an unfortunate situation, having no idea of the truth.”

  She shook her head. “The truth is that I was married to Reuben.”

  “The truth is that there is no proof. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he lied to you and you believed you were married for all those years.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes blinked several times, her fingers were cold and trembling. Solomon could have laughed. He had her right where he wanted her.

  “But I thought that even if a person isn’t legally married, that they are considered married after a time?”

  “You mean common-law marriage?” When she nodded, he adopted his most condescending tone. “Oh, my dear, do you think the church would consider that to be a true marriage?”

  She dabbed at her eyes with the hem of her apron. “What can I do?”

  Solomon rubbed her shoulder, then brought her closer to his side. “There is only one solution. We must get married before people start asking questions. You know how damaging rumors can be. All it would take would be for someone to mention something to the wrong person . . .” He let his voice trail off, letting Elizabeth draw her own conclusions.

  “I . . . I need to think about this.”

  Elizabeth stood. Solomon took her arm to walk her back to the Beilers’ farm, but she pulled away.

  “I’m going to walk home.” She took a step back. “Please tell the others I’m all right. Only a bit tired.”

  Solomon weighed the risk of letting her go against forcing her immediate agreement to their wedding. Elizabeth was cautious. He decided to give her time.

  “When can I expect an answer to my proposal?”

  She gave him a quizzical look, then shook her head as if clearing cobwebs from her mind. “I’ll let you know in a day or two.”

  “Until then.” He bent to give her another kiss, but she pulled back and walked away from him, down the road toward her home.

  Solomon watched her go. He could pursue her. Force her. But his first thought had been correct. Let the rumors about her past start circulating, and she would come to him of her own free will. Chuckling, he turned to walk back to the Beilers’ farm and the willing ears of Salome.

  13

  Aaron had watched Solomon and Elizabeth as they walked down the road. Elizabeth had gone willingly, he could see that, but he still paced between the house, the barn, and the end of the farm lane.

  Jonas and Levi were near the barn in the shade, talking with Dan and a few of the other men. He stood with them, not listening to the conversation, then decided to go and look down the road again. Perhaps Solomon and Elizabeth were coming back. But Jonas followed him and caught his sleeve.

  “What’s wrong with you? I’ve never seen you this jumpy.”

  Aaron wiped the perspiration off his nose. “It’s probably nothing. Just my imagination.”

  “Your imagination doesn’t make you act like this.”

  “Solomon and Elizabeth went down the road together a little while ago.”

  Jonas shrugged. “It’s common enough for couples who are courting to go off together during the afternoon. They’ll be back.”

  Aaron glared at his friend. “Who says they’re courting?”

  “I only assumed they were, if they walked off alone. I know Elizabeth has been interested in him, and it makes sense. They’re both widowed, both alone. They’re neighbors. Why wouldn’t they try to find out if marriage is a good idea?”

  Aaron stared at his foot, leaning on his cane. “I don’t think Solomon Mast is the man he says he is, but I don’t have proof.”

  Jonas watched him, his arms crossed. “How certain are you?”

  “I know what I know. I’m sure.”

  “Except that your imagination could be making you think things that aren’t true.”

  Jonas could be right, but Aaron was sure he remembered Simon Miller correctly . . . or did he?

  Touching Aaron’s shoulder, Jonas nodded toward the road. “There’s Solomon now.”

  “But where is Elizabeth?”

  Aaron made his way toward Solomon. The other man had stopped near a group of the women who were sitting together in a circle near the house. As he drew close, Katie left the group, heading toward the house.

  Aaron stopped her. “Did Solomon say where Elizabeth is? She didn’t come back from her walk with him.”

  Katie fanned herself with her hand, her face flushed. “She told him she was tired and not feeling well, so he walked her home.”

  She went on past him and Aaron tapped his cane on the ground, watching Solomon. It didn’t add up. Solomon hadn’t taken his buggy, and he hadn’t been gone long enough to go all the way to Elizabeth’s house and back.

  Heading down the farm lane, he started off after Elizabeth. Solomon could be telling the truth, but the only way to find out was to find Elizabeth.

  By the time he reached the cabin that Katie and Elizabeth shared, Aaron was walking slowly, nursing his bad leg. When he saw Elizabeth sitting on the front porch, he was relieved, then disgusted with himself for being so suspicious. He stopped in the shade, resting, until she saw him and waved.

  “Aaron, what are you doing here? Come on up and sit down.”

  He felt each step up to the porch and sat heavily in the chair closest to the door. Elizabeth sat with her feet under her, a glass of water in her hand.

  “That looks good,” Aaron said, nodding toward her glass. “Could I trouble you for some?”

  When she brought it, he took a long drink. The water was cool and sweet.

  “Did you walk all the way here from the Beilers’?” Elizabeth asked when he finished. “It’s such a hot afternoon. You should have waited until evening.”

  Aaron turned the cup in his hands. Now that he was here and she was safe, it did seem a bit silly.

  “I was worried about you. When Solomon came back from your walk without you, I wasn’t sure what happened.”

  “He didn’t tell you I came home?”

  “He did.”

  “But you didn’t believe him.”

  Aaron ignored the frown on her face. “I worry about you.”

  “There is nothing to worry about. Solomon and I are getting along fine. I know you think he’s this man that you met in Virginia, but I haven’t seen anything that tells me he’s anyone except who he says he is.”

  “Then why don’t you seem happy?”

  She sh
ot a look at him. “I’m happy.”

  Then why the tears in her eyes on Saturday when he saw her in Lydia’s kitchen? “I think you’re mistaken.” He turned his cup in his hands again, watching the droplets of water threatening to fall from its sweating surface. “I think you’re telling me what you hope is true, and you’re trying to believe it yourself.”

  Minutes passed. A cardinal called from the tops of the pines. Elizabeth sniffed as if she was trying to keep from crying.

  “You don’t know anything, Aaron. You’re only guessing. Solomon has asked me to marry him, and I’m thinking of saying I will. He can give me everything I’ve ever wanted.”

  “If he’s a respectable Amishman, solid, secure, and faithful, like you claim, then why do you always look a bit frightened when you’re around him?”

  She snorted. “You’re imagining things.”

  “You look like you’re afraid you’ll do something that will displease him. You’ve seen him when he’s angry, haven’t you?”

  Silence. The cardinal called again.

  Aaron steepled his fingers, looking through them to the porch floor. “Do you love him?”

  More silence.

  “Does he love you?”

  “Of course, he loves me. That’s why he wants to marry me.”

  He turned his head, catching her gaze in his own. “It isn’t love if you feel like you need to earn it. How many times do you do what he wants just to appease him?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Aaron Zook.” She stood, her fists clenched. “It isn’t any of your concern if I marry Solomon or not, and you have no right to question what I’m doing. You aren’t my father or . . . or my brother.”

  She stomped past him to the door, her bare feet thudding on the wooden porch floor. She paused with her hand on the door as if she wanted to say more but went inside, letting the wooden screen door slap closed on its spring.

  Aaron rose and started the walk back to Abraham and Lydia’s house. She was right. He had been too harsh. But he couldn’t stand by and watch her make the biggest mistake of her life.

  What would he do if she married Solomon?