Though Miriam would live and raise her baby in the Englisch world, she would forever remain Amish in her heart.
THE END
READ ON TO THE NEXT BOOK
Amish Brides
of Willow Creek
Book Three: Sweet Nothings
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
Sweet Nothings
CHAPTER 1
“Fire!”
Panic rose up in Bethany as she screamed for help, but no one came to her rescue. Flames licked the undercarriage of the overhead vent that spanned the length of the twelve-burner gas stove in the kitchen of the B&B. Smoke billowed above the flames, most of it spiraling up into the vent.
A strangled cry escaped her throat, her breath heaving.
With trembling hands, Bethany wrapped her fingers around the curved, brass handle of the ancient fire extinguisher and tried to release it from where it was clamped against the wall.
It was stuck!
It was an antique; probably as old as the one-hundred-year-old B&B.
Grease sputtered and popped from the flaming frying pan on the burner. Splatters stung the exposed flesh on her arms, triggering her reflexes to flinch with each blistering pop.
The blaze grew higher, backing her away from the stove. A million thoughts came in spurts, uncomprehending, and unresolved. Every possible resolution represented an additional obstacle. Her greatest one, being that she couldn’t get close enough to the stove to turn off the gas without risk of serious burn.
Bethany tried to free the fire extinguisher once more, but it only jiggled. The more she pushed, the looser it came from its binding, metal strap.
Time was running out, but at the same time, seemed to be standing still.
She could taste the adrenaline in her mouth. It was sticky like sap coating her tongue. Her heartbeat muffled all noise as her entire focus rested on freeing the fire extinguisher.
One last shove to the side, and down it came onto her foot with a thud. She let out a brief cry, but the terrorizing force of urgency moved her arms automatically to heft the cumbersome brass canister with one hand and grip the rubber tubing. Pointing it upward, she aimed at the base of the fire and emptied the canister before it registered in her mind that the fire had been extinguished.
Bethany took in a deep breath, her breathing slowed, her heartbeat relented. The sound of the smoke detector reached her ears just then, and she realized the noise had been strangely muffled before. As if her other senses had momentarily shut down to accommodate her fight or flight reflex long enough to extinguish the flames.
“What happened in here?” came Jessup’s stern baritone as he rushed up behind her and turned off the gas burner. The door from the butler’s pantry swung back and forth with the force of his entrance.
Bethany turned around, unable to speak. She simply held up the empty fire extinguisher and pointed to the oversized cast-iron pan full of unusable fried chicken. The stockpots of mashed potatoes and gravy, and the loaves of freshly-baked bread on the warmer were also now inedible.
She’d ruined dinner for seven guests and four employees. It would be hours before the mess could be cleaned and a new meal could be prepared. The realization of the mistake flooded her mind all at once.
“It was an accident,” Bethany managed.
She knew it was an excuse she’d given over and over to her boss, and she knew by the look on his face he would not show her any mercy this time.
“I’m sorry,” she attempted to offer through tears.
Jessup walked over to the stove and surveyed the damage. Aside from grease splatters and a scorch of soot on the wall and stove, the only real damage was to the meal that his guests expected. He would have to feed them cold meat with day-old bread from the pantry they usually reserved for morning toast, and if he was lucky, there was enough fruit to make a salad to go along with the chow-chow that remained unharmed in the icebox. Luckily, the pies had already been placed in the butler’s pantry awaiting the fresh-brewed coffee for after the meal.
Bethany crossed to the window and lifted the sash, hoping to release some of the smoke. She hoped her gesture would show her boss she was willing to fix the situation.
“Sorry isn’t going to serve my hungry guests,” Jessup reprimanded.
She crossed to the stove to attempt a clean-up, wishing she hadn’t convinced Bess she could handle the kitchen on her own while the older woman had gotten off her swollen and tired feet for a while. Bess had gotten her nearly to the end of the meal before she decided she couldn’t stand on her aching feet another second. All Bethany had to do was let the chicken reach a golden brown, and then remove it from the pan. The strainer spoon she’d used to scoop the drumsticks out of the pan had slipped from her fingers, and splattered the grease into the burner she’d neglected to turn off before sifting the chicken from the fryer. If only she’d written down the instructions before Bess had retired.
“Sorry hadn’t made the sheets you turned pink go back to white again. And it hadn’t cleaned the slippery buttermilk from the floor that you’d spilled before Mr. Brown slipped on it and twisted his back. But I will tell you that I’m not sorry that I’m going to have to excuse you from your position of employment here.”
Bethany was stunned.
She let the broom drop from her hands and walked in a slouched posture back to her room to pack her things.
Only problem was; she had nowhere to go.
CHAPTER 2
“It’s not fair!”
Bethany stamped her foot against the worn porch of her mother’s old, dilapidated bakery that stood at the forefront of her father’s farm.
“I’m leaving again, but this time, I’m not coming back!”
She’d meant it as a threat to her father, who’d allowed her mother’s bakery to remain abandoned and uncared for, for too many years to count. Only problem was, Bethany was desperate now and had nowhere else to go. The threat was a gamble, she knew, but desperation to get her way was her driving force.
She’d been let go from the B&B after she’d nearly burned down the entire kitchen, and now she was asking her father for the impossible, and to put her in charge of feeding and serving guests.
She’d hidden her suitcase behind the barn to keep her father from knowing she no longer resided at the B&B, but it would only be a matter of time before he learned the truth from the gossip-mill among the community.
“I’d like you to come home,” her father said gently. “But you haven’t shown me you are responsible enough to run a bakery.”
It was an excuse to keep her from invading her mamm’s space, she knew, but she wasn’t about to let her vadder off the hook. “I have been working at the B&B for over a month now. I can cook and do wash, and I’ve even learned how to serve guests. That would almost be the same as serving customers at the bakery.”
She was stretching the truth, but she hoped he wasn’t any the wiser. If he’d already heard of her domestic fumbles at the B&B, then her arguments were all in vain.
“Jessup was just telling me how well you were doing when I ran into him in town yesterday,” her father said.
Bethany’s heart beat so hard she could feel it in her toes. Had Jessup told her father the truth, o
r would he have spared the man’s feelings, and told him she was a good worker to spare her father from embarrassment? That’s what it was. She was an embarrassment to her father, and the whole community knew it but him.
But Bethany knew, and the only way to prove otherwise would be to run her mother’s bakery successfully. But in order to do that, she needed her father’s permission—or did she?
The more her father rattled on about the many unrealistic reasons she could not use her mother’s bakery, the more she realized he was still not over her mamm’s death. Although Bethany, herself, had been too young to remember the sort of details Levinia always shared with her, she couldn’t imagine how many more memories their father had stored away about her. He had not moved on, never remarrying, and now Bethany was suffering for it.
What she needed was to find a diversion for her father—something to occupy his time so immensely that he would have no time to keep track of her if she was to return home. She knew paring him up with someone would be next to impossible even though it was the most logical solution. Not because there was any lack of widows in the community, but because he was well aware of their existence and had refused their advances too many times to count. Most had offered pies and casseroles, and even though he’d accepted the meals with open arms, they’d closed just as quickly when the offers arose for more.
If there was a way around his stubbornness, Bethany was determined to find it.
The familiar clip-clop and whirring of buggy wheels reached Bethany’s ears. Just up over the rise, the bobbing head of a horse came into view. As he pulled the buggy up the small crest, she noticed the wobbling wheel of Frau Yoder’s buggy.
She was a widow!
“Daed, look at Frau Yoder’s wheel,” Bethany said a little too excitedly. “Shouldn’t you stop her and help her fix it?”
Her father pulled at his long, wiry beard that was mostly grey. “Jah, I suppose that would be neighborly, but she could probably make it to Henry Graber’s farm and he can fix it for her. She’d be better off in his care since he’s the buggy maker.”
He was always making excuses to avoid the widows in the community. It annoyed Bethany at this moment more than it ever had before. She knew fixing the widow’s buggy wheel was not going to make them fall in love, but Bethany could certainly find a way to make it work for her benefit.
They had to start somewhere, didn’t they?
Frau Yoder was the sweetest of all the widows in the community, in Bethany’s opinion, and for an older woman, she was still very attractive. Some of the other widows in the community had aged beyond their years, and had stopped taking care of themselves. But not Frau Yoder. She was still very active in the community, and she made the best shoofly pie for miles around.
Frau Yoder slowed her buggy, bringing it to a halt at the crossroad where Bethany and her father were standing in front of the bakery.
She smiled brightly at Bethany’s father.
“Gudemariye, Jacob and Bethany,” the older woman said.
“Gudemariye, Frau Yoder,” her father said.
Bethany smiled a greeting.
She couldn’t help but notice that the widow had addressed her father by his given name, but he had been far too formal in return. She knew it was his way, but she was going to have to encourage him to change. She’d never tried before, and she had no idea if it was plausible, but she was more determined than ever to find out.
“I couldn’t help but notice your wheel is a little wobbly,” Bethany said cheerfully. “If you pull it up to our barn, mei vadder can tighten it for you.”
“Danki,” the widow replied, without giving Jacob the opportunity to retract the offer.
Her father cleared his throat in a manner which Bethany knew was disapproving of her offer to the widow, but if she hadn’t extended the kindness, he would have let her leave, and that did not fit into Bethany’s plan for the two of them.
Gott had just dropped an opportunity in her lap, and she was not about to refuse a blessing so great.
CHAPTER 3
“Won’t you kume in out of the cold and have some hot kaffi while mei daed fixes your buggy wheel?”
Bethany would have preferred the setting to be a warm, sunny day so they could sit on the swing and sip lemonade while they watched her father repair the buggy wheel, but perhaps the snowy day was a blessing in disguise.
Frau Yoder followed Bethany into the house, where she lit the stove for a fresh pot of coffee. She knew that the time it would take her father to tighten the buggy wheel would be accomplished at about the same time the coffee would be ready, and perhaps, she could coax him inside to join them.
The widow set her coat on the back of her chair instead of placing it on the peg near the kitchen door where Bethany had hung hers. Was she supposed to offer to hang it up for the older woman? If so, the window for such an offer had passed. She shrugged it off and went about getting three cups ready, determined that her father would join them.
“I hope you weren’t in a hurry,” Bethany said, breaking the silence between them.
“Nee,” the widow said, fussing with her gloves that she’d set on the table. “I was on my way home when the wheel began to wobble. I worried I wouldn’t make it to the Graber farm, so I’m grateful your daed was able to fix it for me.”
Bethany smiled. “It was as if Gott put us out there at the road at just the right time to help you.”
“Jah, tis true. I will have to bake a shoofly pie for your daed.”
“Jah, he would like that very much,” Bethany said eagerly. “It’s one of his favorites, and I don’t know how to make them.”
The widow smiled gently. “I don’t suppose you do, or you’d probably still be working at the B&B.”
Bethany nearly dropped the coffee cups she was arranging on the serving tray. “If you know, then mei daed surely knows I’ve been relieved of my employment with the B&B.”
The widow chuckled. “Nee, your vadder doesn’t pay much attention to the community chatter. He keeps to himself, so I think you’re safe there.”
“Perhaps if you were to teach me how to bake shoofly pie, it would help me.”
“My shoofly pie recipe won’t help you get your employment back at the B&B.”
Bethany smiled. “Nee, but it might help me convince mei daed to let me reopen mei mamm’s bakery.”
The widow’s eyes bore a soulful look. “I’m not certain there is anything that will get Jacob to give up his attachment to that bakery. It will likely cave in on itself before anyone steps foot in it again.”
“Perhaps if I fixed it up as a surprise, but he would need to be distracted.” Bethany looked at the widow sheepishly. “If he was busy with courting someone, he might not notice, and by the time he noticed, he wouldn’t care because he’d be in lieb.”
“You are quite the dreamer,” the widow said with an undertone of condolence. “But I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind stepping into that dream with you.”
Bethany turned around and looked the widow straight on. “You like mei daed?”
“Jah,” she said, blushing. “Perhaps…nee, it’s too narrish to even consider.”
Bethany scooted to the table and leaned on her elbows, intrigued at the possibility of a plan that might work for both of them. “I’m all ears!”
The widow cast her eyes downward, but Bethany could still see the deep blush that had mixed with her expression. “I’ve wanted to court Jacob for years,” she said with a far-off look in her eyes. “I’ve tried many a time to get his attention, and so has most of the widowed community. He’s quite a catch, your daed is.”
Bethany giggled. It was funny to hear that these women should see her father in such a romantic light. She couldn’t help but think if they knew the real man behind their romantic notions, they might think twice about him. The first time he would come in from slopping the pigs and neglect to wash his hands before he sat down to eat, they might run for the hills. Bethany giggled again just thinking abou
t it.
“What is so funny?”
“I was only thinking that mei daed has gotten sort of set in his ways, and I think he would be a lot of work for an unsuspecting widow like yourself. I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into. He eats the way pigs eat their slop, and sleeps in his dirty clothes after a long day, and worse! Are you sure you’re up to adapting to that? He’s too old to change.”
The older woman smiled knowingly. “He isn’t too old. He can still be molded.”
Bethany chucked. “That seems like a lot of work to me, but if you’re sure, then I’m up to the challenge too. I’ll help you however you see fit. As long as it gets him out of the way so I can fix up the bakery and ready it for business, I imagine I’m up for most any challenge that comes my way.”
Bethany hoped she wasn’t getting a little too confident and getting ahead of herself, but for the first time in two days, she had more hope to hold onto than she thought possible.
CHAPTER 4
“Daed, please join us for a cup of hot kaffi. You must be very cold after fixing Frau Yoder’s buggy wheel.”
Bethany set the cup in front of him, giving him no other alternative but to sit with them. If she knew her father, he would suck down the coffee as fast as he could just so he could leave. As far as Bethany could help it, she wasn’t about to let him.
Making a grand gesture of looking at the clock in the kitchen, Bethany crossed to the sink and dropped her cup in. Then she walked over to the pegs near the door and pulled her coat and mittens down.
“It’s getting late, Daed. I need to get back to the B&B so I can help prepare the evening meal.”
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