The Amish Midwife's Courtship and Plain Truth

by Cheryl Williford

  His stomach knotted. Bile threatened another stomachache. Isaac rose but then saw Molly’s shoulders droop in surrender. She nodded as Mose spoke again and followed him over to where Isaac stood, her gaze downcast.

  Mose greeted Isaac with a firm handshake and a pat on the back. “I see someone told you where to sit.”

  “Ya, one of the elders.” Isaac tried to read Molly’s expression as he spoke, but got nothing but a glassy stare from her. She sat on the bench where he’d been sitting. Her back ramrod straight, her hands piously folded in her lap, she looked straight ahead.

  “How are Sarah and the bobbels?” Isaac asked.

  Mose’s face lit up at the mention of his wife and babies. His smile was generous. “Oh, they’re fine. Just fine. Our little girl is small, but doing fine. The doctor said we owe her life to Molly’s expert care. We’re so grateful she is a skilled midwife and knew exactly what to do with our surprise bobbel.” He grinned at Molly, who softened visibly.

  Movement at the front of the church had Mose dismissing himself and moving away. He took his place in the line of preachers and deacons who would preach that day.

  Molly scooted away, leaving more room than Isaac needed. He tried to catch her gaze as coming church activities were announced at the front of the church, but she stayed focused on the speaker. With a casual twist of her wrist, she dropped her plain white handkerchief to the floor.

  Isaac bent to pick up the square white fabric and turned in surprise as Molly bent, too, their heads almost colliding.

  “This farce has got to be stopped, Isaac Graber,” she whispered, facing him.

  “It’s too late. Now is not the time─”

  “And when is the time? After we are tied together with invisible ropes that can’t be broken?” Her brown eyes snapped with anger. She straightened, the handkerchief clenched in her fist.

  The first song of the morning began. Isaac wanted to sing, but couldn’t remember the beautiful song’s words, his mind too busy thinking of Molly. She was angry, and he couldn’t blame her.

  But what could be done about it now?

  * * *

  Two hours later, well-wishers clogged the door of the church. Molly pasted on a smile and pretended to be joyously happy.

  “When’s the wedding?” an old school friend Molly hadn’t seen all winter asked.

  “Two weeks, maybe less.” She accepted a hug from the animated girl. Molly wanted to be anywhere but here in her home church, telling the good people of Pinecraft she was to marry when she knew every word she spoke was a lie.

  A small voice of guilt murmured in her mind. One lie upon another. The situation had snowballed out of control, and she had no one to blame but herself.

  She accepted another warm embrace from Belinda, a shy girl she’d met and befriended years ago. They’d joined the singing group together, and now both were to be wed. She listened to her friend’s words about the food they’d be serving at her wedding, what her special dress was made of.

  Molly smiled, but wanted desperately to cry. She had no special dress being made, no house to live with Isaac and no date to announce. Their courtship was nothing but a sham. It took every ounce of strength she had to hold her tongue and not blurt out the truth.

  The crowd was thinning, and Molly saw her mamm and Chicken John making their way toward them. Her mother grabbed her wrist just as Molly turned away.

  “No! Wait, please, Molly,” Ulla urged.

  Isaac stepped in front of Molly, shielding her. “This is not the time or place for another argument, Ulla. I know you’re Molly’s mamm, but I am to be her husband. I’ll have no—”

  “Ulla and I have no wish to create chaos, Isaac,” Chicken John reassured him. As the bald little man spoke, he kept a white-knuckled grip on his black Sunday hat. “We merely want to wish you both congratulations and a happy life together.”

  Ulla sniffed, her eyes glistening with tears. She released Molly’s wrist and cleared her throat before she spoke, her voice hoarse. “Please give me a moment with meine dochder, Isaac. I have things I must say before she weds.”

  Molly stiffened, ready for the condemnation she knew was coming. Her mother always had an agenda, and this time would be no different.

  Isaac glanced at Molly. She gave a curt nod, her stomach heaving. “Ya, I will speak with her, but only for a moment.” She moved a few feet away. Ulla followed. The two men stood back, waiting.

  Her mother’s body trembled as she spoke. “Gott has been dealing with me harshly for days. I must make my confession known to you.” Ulla’s chin dropped. “I’ve been hard on you.” The older woman glanced at her husband-to-be. Chicken John smiled his encouragement, his expression hopeful. She looked back to Molly. “John has helped me to see the error of my ways. I have been harsh and often cruel.” Her voice broke several times as she continued, “I took my grief out on...you when your daed died...and then your sister so soon after.”

  Ulla took a deep breath and held Molly’s gaze, tears sparkling in her eyes. “When Greta died, I died, too. I thought only of myself, of my pain.” She began to sob in earnest, her face pinched. “I became bitter and cruel.” She took in a shuddering breath. “I am ashamed of my behavior. I gave no regard for your feelings, what you were going through. You were always such a good kinner. Kind and respectful.”

  Ulla grasped Molly’s arm again, her fingers cutting into her flesh, her gaze intense, almost desperate. “You’ve grown into a godly woman, a dochder I should be proud of.” Ulla swallowed hard. “I need your forgiveness, Molly. Please. Before I go mad with regret.”

  Molly sidestepped away from her mother, her face warm with threatening tears. Her stomach quivered with nerves. Could Mamm be saying all this to make Chicken John think she’s changed? She desperately wanted to believe her mother had changed for the better.

  “Please forgive me, Molly,” Ulla urged, taking her hands in hers. Her mamm’s chin wobbled as she seemed to search for the right words. “I’ve been so cruel and demanding. I have no excuse for my selfishness, except that I had a broken heart. I handled things badly and made your life miserable when I should have been comforting you. You lost Greta, too. I’m sorry for all my sins. Please say you forgive me.” Tears ran freely down the older woman’s wrinkled face as she waited for Molly’s response.

  Isaac walked forward and slid his arm around Molly’s waist. He gave her a gentle squeeze. She glanced up at him, thankful for his bolster of strength.

  Trembling, her eyes brimmed with tears. She turned back to face her mother and then slipped her arms around her shoulders. “I forgive you, Mamm. No more talk of the past. I have no right to judge.” Molly smiled, but her lies ate at her soul. “Today we begin anew as mamm and dochder.”

  Chicken John joined them. “Ya, this is gut, but it makes me to wonder if it’s not time to follow the crowd out to the communal meal.” He laughed and took Ulla’s arm, leading the way to the back of the church.

  Isaac tried to take Molly’s arm, but she pulled away from him, making her gesture all about straightening her kapp. “Nee, it’s time to stop the pretense. I’m sick of all the lies.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Molly stabbed her fork into a tender piece of roast beef and then chewed mechanically. Her thoughts were on the wedding banns Otto Fischer had just declared between herself and Isaac in front of Gott and her church family. She’d always thought the banns were sacred, yet here she was squirming in her chair at her own engagement dinner, thinking up ways to get out of the mess she was in.

  She glanced over at Isaac, who was sitting next to Chicken John. Both men were eating, wore a smile like everything in the world was perfect. She looked across the table at her mamm. Ulla was concentrating on getting the last of her peas on her fork. Her face showed no signs of hidden anger or agenda. Perhaps her mamm had meant all sh
e had said. Maybe she was truly sorry for her behavior. For as long as Molly could remember, her mother had never used the word sorry in a sentence.

  “You’re very quiet,” Isaac murmured into her ear.

  Molly slapped him away like a pesky mosquito. She wanted to talk to him, but not here, not now. “I’m enjoying my meal.”

  “Then why are you taking such tiny bites?”

  She heard a deep rumble of laughter in his chest. How could he enjoy this meal when she was so miserable? “I’m savoring every moment,” she muttered back, keeping her eyes on her plate.

  Isaac leaned in close to her as he reached for his glass of water. “You’re being sarcastic, and it doesn’t become you. I need to talk to you. There’s so much to explain.”

  She accepted a slice of pineapple upside-down cake from Helen, Otto’s nine-year-old granddaughter, and smiled her thanks. She turned back to Isaac and whispered, “You owe me no explanation. Banns read or not, we are not engaged.”

  Isaac lifted the chair under him and shoved it over until their chairs touched. “The banns sounded official to me.”

  To anyone watching they must have looked like two people very much in love, exchanging sweet words as they ate. “This is not the time to debate the issue, Isaac.”

  Isaac used his fork to take a bite of her cake, the appreciative sounds he made telling her he liked the cake she’d baked. He had no idea he was eating her secret gift to him, and she wanted it to stay that way, even though it pleased her that he liked the special treat. “We have to talk. You need to know—”

  “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” She rose and then groaned inwardly as he pushed back his chair, prepared to follow her. “No, not now,” she whispered close to his ear. “In a few moments.”

  Molly scurried across the lawn and into the church kitchen, making her way past women clearing away dishes. When she saw Isaac come in, she motioned him into a quiet corner of the room, away from prying eyes.

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the broom closet and shut the door behind them. Light bled into the square chamber, casting shadows across Isaac’s face. “I haven’t had five minutes alone with you for days,” he said.

  “I know.”

  They stood toe-to-toe, his height making her feel shorter than her five foot nothing. “I’ve been busy and so have you.” She frowned in frustration and couldn’t control her tongue. “Perhaps if you hadn’t been avoiding me...”

  “I haven’t been avoiding you,” Isaac shot back. “You didn’t seem to want me anywhere near you.” Still holding her hand, his thumb brushed back and forth across her fingers. “I didn’t know Rose was coming for sure until the day she arrived, or I would have mentioned it sooner.”

  “I knew she was coming. I saw her letter.”

  Isaac peered down at her, the dark room making it hard for her to see the expression on his face. “What? How?” he asked.

  Conversation could be heard outside the door. She lowered her voice while trying to avoid hitting a row of mop handles with her elbow. “In your room while I was cleaning one day.”

  His deep, gravely laugh annoyed her. “I never took you for a snoop.” He ran his hand up her arm, and she tried to brush it away.

  Her face flushed with heat. “I’m not a snoop. I just happened to find the letter on the floor and read the name Rose. I assumed it was from a family member.”

  “Not a girlfriend? You’re so trusting.”

  “Ya, well. But I’m no fool, Isaac Graber. I know most men have their secrets and can lie at the drop of a hat and be convincing.”

  “If you’d just listen for a moment, you’d understand so much.” Isaac’s voice sounded sincere.

  “Ya, I’ll listen, but not here, and only because it will get me away from you and out of this suffocating broom closet.”

  * * *

  A half hour later Isaac’s feet pushed down hard on the tandem bike’s pedals, almost standing in his seat to propel them faster down the road. He tried to adjust for the tipping motion Molly was causing on the second seat. He’d never ridden a two-seater bike before and had no idea it would prove to be so difficult. A strong gust of northerly wind blew across them, and he fought to keep them upright.

  “How much farther?”

  Molly’s words shot past him on the wind. He turned his head slightly, hoping she would be able to hear. “Another block.”

  “Where exactly did you say we were going?” Molly’s voice sounded high-pitched with nerves.

  “I didn’t say,” Isaac told her as he turned into the corner driveway on Lapp Lane. The plain white house looked smaller than he remembered.

  The night before he’d come to see the outside of the house with Otto Fischer and been impressed, but in the bright light of day he realized the house was in desperate need of a repair. The peeling exterior was disappointing to say the least. Molly was sure to be dissatisfied and had every right to be, but a home like this was what he could afford for now.

  He came to a wobbly stop, his arms and legs braced against the wind. He glanced back to make sure Molly was all right.

  “Whose haus is this?” Molly asked, her feet slipping from the bike pedals to stand on the stained driveway.

  Isaac threw his leg over the bike. “Come inside with me. I have to check some things. It won’t take a minute.” He waited for her to free her skirt from the bike pedal. With the kick of his boot, he slid the bike stand in place.

  “But I thought you said we were going to the park to meet your sister later.” Molly straightened her apron and held her kapp down with her hand. Strands of hair escaped her bun and danced around her face with another gust of wind.

  “Ya. We are meeting her, but I have to get this done first. Please come in. I don’t want to leave you out on the lawn.”

  Molly glanced around, her gaze wandering to the peeling front porch swing swaying in the breeze. “Who lives here?”

  Isaac took the crook of her arm and led her toward the house. “No one, right now.”

  She hesitated, pulling back. “Then why are we here?”

  “Otto sent me on a mission. I have to check out the work needing to be done on the inside.”

  “Oh.”

  At the door he patted his pants pockets until he found the key ring and then dug it out, along with a piece of chewing gum and three dimes. The lock fought the key. He turned it upside down and the key slid in, the door creaking as it opened.

  Isaac used his hand to push the door open all the way and then flip up the light switch. Nothing. No electricity. He stepped inside. Molly trailed silently behind him.

  Bright sunlight flooded the small entry hall. The inside of the house appeared dingy, the walls needing a wipe down and thick coat of paint. They moved into the greatroom. All the blinds and curtains were drawn, leaving the space in gloom. Dust particles floated on the midday sun streaming in through the opened door behind them.

  “It needs some work,” Isaac commented.

  Molly nodded in agreement. “Ya. A lot of work.”

  “Let’s get some light in here.”

  Molly went with Isaac to the windows. She pushed against the drab olive-green drapes at the double window and shoved them open.

  Isaac jerked on the cord behind the folds of curtain fabric and stepped back to avoid the avalanche of dust swirling around them.

  Silently, both turned back to the room.

  A huge peace sign had been spray-painted in black on the white back wall, just behind a mud-colored couch that had seen better days.

  “Not good.”

  “Nee.” Isaac’s heart sank as he watched Molly inspect the room, her head shaking in distaste.

  She pinched off a dust cover with two fingers and revealed a sturdy tan recliner that rocked gently back and forth. Molly smiled
at her discovery. “At least the chair looks usable,” she murmured, and headed for the open kitchen off the big room. “Ya, well. Come look at this, Isaac.”

  He ambled over, noticing missing light fixtures, and several holes in the wall the size of a fist. The ceramic tile underfoot appeared dingy, but none seemed cracked. He rounded the corner and entered the kitchen.

  His breath caught as he took in missing drawers and a hole in the counter where the sink had been. “At least they left the faucet.” He tried to sound positive, but heard disappointment laced in his words.

  “Ya.” She pulled open the oven door and gasped. “What kind of people lived here?” Years of cooking had left the inside of the range the color of rust. She shut the door and moved away. The odor of burned-on food followed them across the room.

  “Let’s check out the bedrooms and then get out of here.” Isaac led her down a dim hallway. He peeked into the decent-sized bathroom and promptly shut the door. “Lots of work to do in there.” He knew the room would need gutting, the black-ringed, moldy tub scarred and unsalvageable.

  The back bedrooms proved less depressing. They needed a coat of paint and the closet doors needed to be rehung, but nothing too drastic.

  “This must be the master bedroom,” Molly said, ambling over to the bare window. “The view from here is lovely. Look at those rosebushes against the fence. All they need is a good pruning. The lawn can be reseeded and watered. There could be red roses blooming and grass to mow by spring.”

  Isaac walked up behind her and put his hand on the windowsill. “What do you think of the haus, Molly? Does it have promise?”

  “Promise?” Molly turned to him, something in her gaze giving him hope. “Ya, it has promise. All it needs is a few repairs and lots of paint and love. The bones are sound. I like the view from this window a lot. If it were my house...” She stopped speaking and looked up at him, a spark in her eyes telling him she was on to him. “Why did you bring me here, Isaac? This isn’t a project for Otto, is it?”