An Amish Wedding Feast on Ice Mountain
Page 1
SOMETHING SEEMED TO COME OVER THE GIRL. HER FACE DRAINED OF COLOR AND SHE WOBBLED SLIGHTLY IN HER HARD-BACKED CHAIR.
She fell, like a wilting rosebud, slightly sideways, soon destined for the floor but for Ransom’s quick reflexes. He caught her neatly, ignoring the surprised whispers behind him, and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead as he lowered her gently to the wooden floor. Then he slid two fingers past her kapp string and felt for the pulse in her soft neck; he found it strong and steady. “Fainted only,” he pronounced quietly, thinking that Bishop Umble would probably continue with the ceremony whether one girl fainted or ten.
“She needs to eat,” Ransom commanded softly over his shoulder to an elderly woman, aware that the girl had been most likely too focused on her duties as attendant to eat any breakfast. It took a few moments, but then someone passed forward a small glass of water and a morsel in a white cloth napkin. Gut, he thought. Water first. He coaxed it between her lips, and her eyelids fluttered. Then he checked in the napkin. Great. Pie. He pressed some crumbs to her lips and she opened her wide blue eyes in both dawning surprise and dismay.
“I’ve ruined my best friend’s wedding.”
Also by Kelly Long
The Amish Bride of Ice Mountain
An Amish Man of Ice Mountain
The Amish Heart of Ice Mountain
An Amish Courtship on Ice Mountain
An Amish Match on Ice Mountain
And read more by Kelly Long in
An Amish Christmas Quilt
The Amish Christmas Sleigh
The Amish Christmas Candle
The Amish Christmas Kitchen
An Amish Wedding Feast ON ICE MOUNTAIN
KELLY LONG
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
SOMETHING SEEMED TO COME OVER THE GIRL. HER FACE DRAINED OF COLOR AND SHE WOBBLED SLIGHTLY IN HER HARD-BACKED CHAIR.
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Epilogue
Teaser chapter
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2019 by Kelly Long
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
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ISBN: 978-1-4201-4129-0
ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4130-6 (eBook)
ISBN-10: 1-4201-4130-9 (eBook)
Prologue
Holmes County, Ohio
The air in the sick room was suffused with the pungent smell of mixed herbs and camphor. Ransom King lifted his grossdauddi into a more comfortable position on the bed, then watched as the old man smiled and focused his bleary blue eyes. “So, Ransom, tonight I think we finish this battle and I geh to rest from my labors.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“But you know it’s true, my buwe.” The auld man coughed and took a few moments to regain his breath. “So, let’s speak of something else then, eh?” His grandfather stroked his long white beard and looked up into Ransom’s face. “The women of our community all think you hate them.”
“That’s what you want to talk about?” Ransom sat down carefully on the edge of the bed and stretched out his legs. “Women?”
“Jah, women—they are important, my buwe.”
“Fine.”
“Ach—” His grandfather waved a dismissive hand. “What is this ‘fine’? It’s been nearly five years, Ransom. Long enough to let geh of the things that haunt you and to go home to Ice Mountain.”
“Some things become part of your soul.”
Ransom looked away, taken back five years to memories he usually tried to avoid. When he finally realized his grandfather had made no answer, he glanced down to find that the man who meant more to him than any other had slipped peacefully away . . .
Chapter One
Ice Mountain, Pennsylvania
The hot sunshine of the summer Thursday morning caught on the glassware and flower petals that gave special significance to the corner of the King kitchen where the eck table stood.
All that was needed was the bridal couple and their attendants to begin the special wedding feast at which Jeb and Lucy King would receive the blessings and well wishes of both family and community.
But the wedding ceremony still went on, as it normally did, for a gut four hours, and Ransom King was bored. Despite having only just returned to Ice Mountain after a five-year stay in Ohio, he found that Amish weddings seemed pretty much the same in both places. He let his gaze roam over the profile of the groom, his handsome big bruder, and then paid brief attention to the sound of Bishop Umble’s exhortation. Idly, he glanced across the row at his fellow attendant, whom he was to escort for the day—Beth Mast.
The girl’s plump cheeks were flushed a becoming pink and her small hands were clenched in her lap as she sat, as attuned as a baby hare to every moment of the long service. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been about thirteen and always seemed to be laughing, but there was something now about her tense face that made him think she didn’t laugh much anymore.
Then, something seemed to come over the girl. Her face drained of color and she wobbled slightly in her hard-backed chair.
She fell, like a wilting rosebud, slightly sideways, soon destined for the floor but for Ransom’s quick reflexes. He caught her neatly, ignoring the surprised whispers behind him, and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead as he lowered her gently to the wooden floor. Then he slid two fingers past her kapp string and felt for the pulse in her soft neck; he found it strong and steady. “Fainted only,” he pronounced quietly, thinking that Bishop
Umble would probably continue with the ceremony whether one girl fainted or ten.
“She needs to eat,” Ransom commanded softly over his shoulder to an elderly woman, aware that the girl had most likely been too focused on her duties as attendant to eat any breakfast. It took a few moments, but then someone passed forward a small glass of water and a morsel in a white cloth napkin. Gut, he thought. Water first. He coaxed it between her lips and her eyelids fluttered. Then he checked in the napkin. Great. Pie. He pressed some crumbs to her lips and she opened her wide blue eyes in both dawning surprise and dismay.
“Blueberry pie . . . ach, my . . .”
Ransom stared down at the intriguing freckles on her pert nose. “Oh my, indeed.”
“I have to get up,” she whispered in visible desperation, obviously taking in the fact that a leaning circle of onlookers had their eyes on her.
“Fine, get up, but you’re coming outside with me for a breath of fresh air,” he muttered. “I’ll wager the gut bishop has about forty-five minutes left in him yet.” He started to lift her and could tell she was about to protest. He bent his mouth to the delicate ear nearest him. “We don’t want to make more of a scene, do we?”
Her gentle face flushed with new color as he drew her upright, catching her hand against the crook of his arm and escorting her down the open aisle between the massed chairs with confident aplomb. It didn’t matter to Ransom that there were titters of interest as they passed; he was used to giving the older hens something to talk about. But as soon as he had Beth safely outside in the gentle breeze, he realized that the girl had no desire to make a spectacle of herself.
She drew her hand from his arm and swiped at her eyes. “I’ve ruined my best friend’s wedding.”
From another girl, the statement might have been considered dramatic, but Beth’s soft voice was subdued with sorrow that somehow struck a resonating chord in Ransom’s usually immune heart. He clenched his jaw and reached a hand to rub back and forth across her back until he felt her spine stiffen.
She looked up at him with something akin to shock. “You’re touching me.”
He gave her a sour smile. “I also touched you when I helped you up from the floor. Remember?”
“Ach . . .” She covered her face with her small hands in obvious frustration, then mumbled, “You don’t have to be so nasty.”
He blinked. “Ah, so the little hare has teeth. Interesting. . .” He removed his hand from her back. “Would you like some water before we geh back inside?”
“Jah. Please.”
He stalked to the well and removed the cover, then brought up the bucket and got her a dipperful. “Here.” He offered it to her without preamble.
He watched as she lowered her hands, took the dipper, then drank thirstily; she put the back of her hand to her lips when she’d finished.
After a moment of silence, she spoke up softly. “I should tell you that I’m sorry about your grandfather dying; it must have been difficult.”
Ransom shrugged. “He was old, sick, and in pain. It was a blessing.”
“I see . . .”
He had to smile; her tone was haughty. “Not much on the niceties, am I? But I do remember that your own daed was killed the summer I went away to apprentice with my grandfather. I’m sorry, Beth.”
He noticed that she had suddenly gone very pale, but she nodded just the same. “Thank you. I—I’d like to geh back in now.”
“Of course.” He offered his arm. “By all means, let’s geh back.”
“Danki,” she whispered, reaching a hesitant hand to his sleeve.
As her fingers settled on his arm, he decided with a strange certainty that Beth Mast was more than blueberry pie crumbs on pale lips and a soft back beneath light blue fabric—she hid something. But whatever it was, it mattered little to him, and he marched her purposely forward....
* * *
Beth stared down at the steaming plate of ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, green beans, and cucumber relish that her stepmother, Viola, slid in front of her as she sat at the eck. Beth was surprised at the sudden kindness of her stepmother but then winced at the older woman’s words.
“You’ve got to eat, Beth—after that terrible fainting spectacle. My, people will think I don’t feed you enough.” Viola gave a soft laugh and drifted off into the crowd. Beth watched her go with a churning in her belly. She had no desire to let anyone see her gobbling up food. Nee, I’ll take a plate home for later and eat it in my room. The thought made her feel less anxious as she watched Viola move about the crowd.
Viola had been her stepmother since Beth was five. Beth’s own mamm had died of influenza before that, and her daed always said that he had been blessed to meet Viola and her seven-year-old daughter, Rose. Beth knew her daed was right—that Viola was a blessing—especially since her daed passed away five years ago . . . She felt tears sting the backs of her eyes at the thought of her father’s accidental death. Nee, nee accident; nee accident . . . She toyed with her fork, pressing its metal handle deep into her palm to remind herself that she was alive . . . Of course, her father had left them all well provided for, but Viola and Rose were frail. And Beth was glad to be needed as she helped with the running of the family’s home and caring for their few farm animals, even though she grew tired sometimes.
She jumped a moment later, though, when Lucy, the bride, leaned close to her.
“What did Ransom say to you outside, Beth?”
Her best friend’s voice was a conspiratorial whisper, and Beth forced herself to smile. “You’re supposed to be thinking about your wedding day—and being Lucy King now.”
Lucy shrugged her delicate shoulders, and Beth watched her best friend’s eyes sparkle with love for her new husband. “I know, but I would also like to see you perhaps become part of the King family. Ransom is a catch—even if he is, well . . . closed to people since he’s kumme back.”
Beth couldn’t contain the blush she knew heated her cheeks, but she answered easily. “Which is exactly why he would never have eyes for me. . . . He was just being kind.”
“Well, he’s going to have to be ‘kind’ all of today. You know he’s to be your escort for everything—oops, and here he comes now to sit by you.” Beth tensed up with stress when Lucy withdrew and assumed a proper bridal expression.
“Are you feeling better?” Ransom asked quietly as he maneuvered his long legs over the bench and under the table. He set a loaded plate in front of himself and gave her what appeared to be an intent look.
She swallowed. “I—I’m fine. Danki.”
“Are you?” he asked. “Because you look like you’re about to throw up. Are you nervous with me, Beth?”
She felt a flare of anger inside but resolutely pushed it down. She shook her head primly. “I’m not in the least . . . nervous with you. And thank you for being so kind as to help me this morning.”
He shook his head. “Back to being the quiet little hare, are you? Why have you changed so much since you were thirteen? I remember you as a laughing girl with a sparkle in those big blue eyes. What happened since then?”
What happened to me? What happened to me? She felt her hands begin to shake and moved to clench them nervously in her lap. She struggled to speak for a moment, but then swallowed down the emotion. “It’s a wonder you remember me . . . It seemed you were always stuck on my stepschweschder.”
“Who? Rose? Rose was—and I bet she still is—a brat.”
“How dare you insult Rose?” Beth felt herself almost get to her feet. She hadn’t really wanted to be Lucy’s attendant—there was too much stress—but she’d done it because she loved Lucy. Now she wanted only to flee the crowd and the conversation and the infuriating man in front of her.
“Going to run away?” he asked in smooth tones.
She blinked, wondering how he could read her so well.
“I’m going to sit here and eat and do my duty as an attendant at my best friend’s wedding. That’s all. . . .” And I’m
going to ignore you! You with your dark good looks and firm hands and . . . She broke off her thoughts, appalled at herself.
But he nodded. “Yes, it feels as though I’m losing my own best friend. Jeb and I were always pretty close . . . And I know why you didn’t eat. Like as not, you were doing what I was doing—couldn’t even have a forkful of scrambled eggs because I was so busy helping Jeb get ready.”
Beth heard the warmth in his voice when he mentioned his older bruder. She knew there were two years between the older King buwes—Jeb at twenty-six and Ransom at twenty-four.
“You—you must love him very much,” she said. There, that’s the polite thing to say . . .
Ransom smiled, a casual lift of his lips that produced an indentation in his cheek that made Beth think of an errant little boy.
“Ach, I do—of course. And I’ll miss him, though he’ll only be down the way at Lucy’s place.”
“Will he work at the woodshop as well as farming?” she asked, unclenching her hands a bit.
Ransom shrugged. “Probably. Especially if he needs more money when the kinner start to come.”
Beth felt her face flame. Rarely had she known a man to be so matter-of-fact about the appearance of children. She wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Put a foot wrong, didn’t I?” Ransom laughed low. “I apologize.”
“N–nee,” she protested feebly. “It’s fine.”
“You’d think at your age it would be more than fine. You don’t believe babies come from beneath the cabbage leaves, do you?”
Her anger at him was back and she set her lips in a thin line. “Of course not,” she muttered.
He laughed. “Gut!”
She sighed, wishing she could be witty and charming somehow. At my age . . . why, I could slap his face . . . even though everyone in the community probably thinks I’ll die an auld maid.... Die . . . It should have been me . . .