Amish Romance BOOK BUNDLE: Marian's Story: Amish Romance Boxed Set (Hollybrook Amish Romance)

by Brenda Maxfield

  The fact that Marian and Thomas lived in the daadi haus behind the big house only served to make it all the more impossible. At times, Marian wanted to run home to her parents and sister and take up residence in her old bedroom upstairs. Her heart verily ached for it.

  She would have fled, too, if not for Thomas. Ach, how she loved him.

  Marian shivered. It did no good standing there like a frozen stick while Betsy grew more and more put out with her. She might as well go in and face the music. She stepped over the threshold, walked through the wash room, and entered the kitchen.

  “Hello, Betsy,” she said with vigor. “Right chilly day outside.”

  Betsy turned her chubby body with a jerk and faced her daughter-in-law. Her wide brown eyes gave her a quick once-over. “Thought maybe you weren’t coming.” Her voice was measured. Not rude. The words, taken by themselves, were innocent enough. But Marian heard the accusation beneath them.

  “I’m here now,” Marian said. “What would you like me to do?”

  “Now we’re behind, so dinner will probably be late.” Betsy let out a huge sigh. “Potatoes need peelin’.”

  Marian quickly went to the counter and grabbed the paring knife. She moved to the bowl of potatoes on the table, grabbed one, and began working. The peelings slipped methodically onto the cutting board.

  “Where are the girls?” Marian asked.

  Betsy craned her neck to peer out the kitchen window. “Deb’s out with the dog. Martha and Esther are upstairs cleanin’.”

  “Hmm,” Marian murmured, thinking of nothing else to say.

  Before she and Thomas were engaged, Betsy had been kind. Not effusive. But then, Marian didn’t know many people in her community who were. Marian had always counted on a nice word from Betsy and a concerned inquiry about her mother. Marian didn’t share her mamm’s mental condition with just anyone, but she didn’t mind sharing with Betsy; after all, Betsy was Thomas’s mother. And Marian loved Thomas. So, by extension, she was predisposed to carry affection for his mother.

  Had she but known.

  Once their engagement was announced, Betsy did a complete turn-about. The inquiries became pointed, and the comments regarding Marian’s mother’s progress or lack thereof, turned curt and almost harsh. Marian was stunned and confused.

  Thomas was also perplexed at first, but he excused his mother by saying she needed time to adjust to her eldest son getting married. If only he’d been right.

  “Cut them up smaller,” Betsy instructed, pointing to the large potato pieces Marian had placed in the kettle. “They’ll take too long to cook at that size.”

  “Of course,” Marian said quickly, dishing the potatoes back out of the water. “I’ll be right quick about it.”

  Betsy pinched her lips together into a puckered pout and went back to whipping the gravy smooth.

  “Everything smells fine,” Marian said.

  The side door burst open and Deb rushed through, her cheeks rosy and the smell of the cold outdoors on her.

  “Mamm, you should see the new trick I taught Sifter! He can run after a stick and bring it back and drop it at my feet!”

  Betsy turned to her youngest and chuckled. “That’s fine. Sifter’s a clever dog.”

  “You’ll have to show me,” said Marian.

  “Sure will,” Deb exclaimed. “He did it five times in a row, Mamm. He’s brilliant!”

  “You’ll have to show Marian later,” Betsy said. “We have the noon meal to get on the table.”

  “I didn’t mean for her to show me right now—” Marian started to explain but was cut off by Betsy’s raised hand.

  “Didn’t say you did.” Betsy lifted the pan of gravy from the cook stove and set it on a hot pad on the counter. “Deb, fetch the rest of the family and get yourself washed up. Soon as them potatoes are done, we’re ready.”

  Marian lifted the lid from the potatoes. Tiny bubbles had begun to sputter near the surface, so it wouldn’t be long for them to begin boiling in earnest. In the meantime, she grabbed the bottle of milk from the fridge and went to fill the glasses on the table. She wondered what her own family was eating for noon meal. Her little sister Izzie would eat anything, even dirt clods if you didn’t watch her. Marian smiled. She missed the little one. She’d basically been her baby sister’s mother the entire time Mamm was at the sanitarium.

  Until Mamm ran off and found her way back home. Dat hadn’t sent Mamm back to the sanitarium even though the doctors hadn’t cleared her to be released. But Marian had known Dat would let her mamm stay put. And for the most part, it had worked out. Mamm was almost normal. Almost.

  At least Izzie wasn’t in any danger. Mamm had shown herself perfectly capable of tending the little girl. Marian’s heart squeezed. Mamm had given her so many months of worry. She shuddered. It had been deeply disturbing to watch her mother slip into anger and delusions. Marian took a deep breath. But Mamm was better now, and that’s where Marian needed to put her thoughts.

  “Marian!” Betsy snapped from the doorway. “Did you hear me?”

  Marian flinched, and her face went hot. “Nee. I’m sorry. What did you need?”

  “Check them potatoes and get ’em mashed, will you?”

  “Of course,” Marian hurried back into the kitchen, certain the potatoes weren’t ready yet, but she wasn’t about to argue.

  “Where’s my wife?” came a voice from the wash room.

  Marian turned to greet Thomas. She loved the way he looked when he was fresh from the fields. His cheeks beneath his newly grown beard were ruddy, and his deep blue eyes twinkled. He radiated well-being and energy. Every time he came in from outdoors, she wanted to run into his arms—which she did when they were in the privacy of the daadi haus, but which she never dared do when they were at the big house.

  Thomas came to stand beside her. “I missed you,” he said, his voice low and quiet for her ears only.

  She grinned up at him. “We’ve been apart four hours is all,” she teased.

  “Long enough.” He squeezed her arm. “I guess I better wash up.” This he said more loudly.

  “Ach! You’re here in my kitchen without a wash-up?” his mother said, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Who raised you?”

  She gave a merry chuckle and flung the dishtowel at him. Thomas laughed and caught it.

  “I think I was raised by wolves,” he countered. He tossed the towel back at his mother and disappeared into the wash room.

  Footsteps trotted down the steps, and Martha and Esther appeared at the doorway. “We’re ready, Mamm,” Esther said.

  “Go on and sit down. Your father and Ben should be in shortly. Oh Martha, grab the rolls, will you?”

  Martha did as she was told and carried them out to the dining area. They still had to wait a bit longer for the potatoes to finish boiling and be mashed. Then, with all the food ready and on the table, everyone sat. Isaiah Groft and Ben rushed in at the last minute and took their spots.

  “Hope you washed up, Dat,” Thomas said. “Mamm’s on the lookout.”

  Betsy grunted with mock displeasure. “Thomas Groft, that’s enough out of you!”

  “Can’t boss me around, Mamm. I’m a married man now.” Thomas gave his mother a teasing smile.

  Marian went stiff. She knew Betsy wouldn’t be amused at being reminded of her son’s marital status, and she was right. Betsy’s cheeks went red, but she managed to put on a tight smile. Considering how much Betsy disliked her, Marian was impressed the woman could smile at all.

  “That you are, son,” Betsy muttered.

  “Let’s have the silent blessing, shall we?” Isaiah said. He bowed his head, and everyone followed suit.

  Marian’s prayer was always the same. Dear Gott, please help me to be a kind and loving person. Please help Betsy to accept me. Help me to persevere in the tasks you’ve given me. And help Mamm to continue recovering. Amen.

  Isaiah cleared his throat and everyone looked up.

  “Can I have the pota
toes?” Deb asked.

  Marian picked up the heavy glass bowl and passed them to her young sister-in-law.

  ****

  That evening in the daadi haus, Marian worked a bit on the column she wrote for The Tribune, a Mennonite and Amish newspaper. While she wrote, her mind totally focused on her words. Writing was her escape, her love, and her fulfillment. Thomas had helped to find the writing job for her, and she was eternally grateful to him for it. Joy filled her as she wrote, and she could always temporarily forget every worry she had. That evening, she wrote for an hour, letting the words flow through her.

  Close to bedtime, Thomas heaped another log onto the fire. Marian sat on the couch facing the flames and closed her eyes. She loved the evenings with just the two of them. Spending time alone with Thomas made up for the difficult days she spent with Betsy. At least it had so far. She wondered whether there would ever come a time when even Thomas’s attention couldn’t make up for the constant harassment she felt in the big house.

  Her chest tightened. Such thoughts couldn’t be pleasing to God. He’d given her a fine husband in Thomas, and she needed to nurture her feelings of gratitude, not send them packing with thoughts of Betsy.

  Thomas gave the log another poke and still on his haunches, he turned to her. “What do you think? Burning hot enough?”

  She smiled. “Jah. It’s perfect.”

  He lay the poker down and came over and sat beside her. He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. She lay her head on his shoulder, snuggling into him.

  “This is nice,” he said.

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “The fields are completely put to bed now.” He yawned. “We’re going to spend some time next week cleaning the tool area of the barn. It got away from us during the last weeks.”

  “Sounds gut.”

  “Dinner was mighty fine, today. Mamm sure does know how to cook a roast.”

  “That she does.” Marian searched her mind for another topic, not wanting to bring Betsy into the daadi haus. She’d had enough for one day.

  Thomas shifted, pulling his arm from around her and facing her squarely. “I’ve been wanting to ask. Are things improving with Mamm? Seems you two are getting on fine now.”

  Marian swallowed. She didn’t want to be dishonest with her husband, but she also didn’t want to come across as a complainer. Besides, griping about it to Thomas wouldn’t serve any of them. And if Thomas felt he had to defend his wife to his mother, things could go further south in a flash.

  “We’re getting to know each other better,” she finally said, with only a small amount of guilt moving through her.

  “Gut,” he responded with a smile. “That’s what I like to hear. I knew that once she really got to know you, she’d love you. Just as I do.”

  Marian wasn’t about to say anything, but after all the weeks of basically living together, Betsy should have known her well enough to love her long ago.

  But Betsy didn’t love her—she didn’t even like her. And that was the sorry state of things.

  Thomas drew her into his arms again and pressed her close. He carefully pulled out the few pins holding her kapp in place. He took the covering from her head and dropped it lightly on the couch. He loosened the clips holding her bun tightly against her neck, and her long hair fell free and long down her back.

  “Shall we retire for the night?” he asked her huskily.

  She nodded, and they both stood and moved toward the bedroom.

  ****

  The next afternoon, Marian was outside sweeping the porch of the daadi haus when she saw a buggy come down the lane toward the big house. She strained her eyes to make out who was driving. It was clearly a woman, obvious by the black cape and kapp she was wearing. Marian smiled slightly, thinking company would be a nice distraction. She wondered whether it was someone for Betsy alone, or if she might join them for a warm cup of tea. In the past, she’d found visitors provided a nice buffer between Betsy and her.

  She gave another quick stroke of the broom to the corner of the porch. Truth be told, the porch hadn’t needed sweeping at all, but Marian had hankered for some time outside in the fresh air, even though it was cold. But now, she quickly put the broom back inside. She went to the kitchen area and took a small plate from the shelf and placed a half dozen fresh snickerdoodle cookies on it to take to the big house. Hopefully, her mother-in-law would appreciate her offering.

  Before leaving the daadi haus, Marian ran her hands over her hair and kapp, making sure that any stray blond curls were tucked securely beneath the covering. Satisfied, she picked up the plate of cookies and scurried next door. She went through the side door and wash room and was about to enter the kitchen when she heard voices and recognized who the guest was.

  Amelia Cobler. Marian didn’t move. Amelia Cobler had wanted Thomas as a beau for years, but Thomas had never paid her much mind. What was she doing there? Had Betsy invited her? Marian’s heart went cold. What was going on?

  “I’m so glad you could make it,” Betsy was saying, her voice friendly and animated.

  Marian’s throat tightened. Betsy never used that tone of voice with her.

  “Glad to come” was Amelia’s reply. “Oh, the tea smells divine.”

  “Doesn’t it, though? It’s a peppermint and apple blend.”

  “Old Mae uses peppermint to soothe upset stomachs.”

  “That she does. The old woman has plenty of tricks up her sleeve.”

  Marian heard dishes being removed from the shelf. Still, she didn’t move. She wasn’t sure why. The conversation didn’t sound too personal or private, but her feet refused to budge.

  “How’s Thomas?” That was Amelia again.

  Marian’s breath caught.

  “Ach, as well as can be expected.”

  What? What is that supposed to mean?

  “I saw Marian at the Feed and Supply last week,” Amelia said.

  Which was true. They’d nearly collided into each other in the dry beans aisle after Marian had unexpectedly run into her Englisch friend Amy.

  “Did you now?”

  “Jah. She was talking with an Englisch girl.”

  Marian heard the clinking sound of a spoon being put on a saucer.

  “An Englisch girl?” Betsy’s voice rose.

  “Jah. A friend of hers from rumspringa, I suppose.”

  Amy was her friend from rumspringa, but she’d remained her friend, something Thomas had given his blessing on.

  Amelia continued speaking. “Quite odd that Marian still meets with her, don’t you think?” Amelia gave a light cough. “Ach, forgive me. I’m not meaning to be critical of your daughter-in-law, mind you.”

  Of course, she wasn’t. Marian pressed her hand to the base of her throat.

  There came the sound of a kitchen chair scraping across the floor.

  “You aren’t being critical, my dear. You’re merely sharing conversation.” Betsy’s voice became more earnest. “So, you say they were meeting at the Feed and Supply?”

  Marian’s chest constricted. She couldn’t continue to stand there, eavesdropping. It was wrong, completely wrong. God would not be pleased. But what was she to do? If she left, they might hear her and know she had been there listening. But if she burst into the room now, they’d also know she had overheard.

  Even more troubling was the fact that Amelia had obviously been invited there that morning. But why? Was Betsy trying to get information about her? That made no sense as she and Amelia weren’t close friends. So then why? Was Betsy trying to cause problems between her and Thomas? That made no sense either.

  Marian glanced about, trying to figure out how to reveal herself without making things obvious. Then she got an idea. She opened the outside door, shut it noisily, and moved through the wash room into the kitchen as if she’d just arrived. Two sets of eyes gawked at her.

  “Amelia!” Marian said easily, walking to the kitchen table. “How nice to see you. I’ve brought cookies.”


  She placed them on the table and gave each of the women a smile. “May I join you for tea?” she asked.

  Betsy had the decency to blubber a bit before answering. “Why, of course. This ain’t a private gatherin’.” She bustled from the table to fetch another cup of tea.

  Marian sat beside Amelia, feeling like a fraud. Her stomach churned. “How nice to see you again. Two times in the space of a week, isn’t it?”

  Amelia’s face went red. “Jah. Two times.”

  Betsy shoved the cup of tea toward Marian, and the liquid sloshed to the point of slopping over the side of the cup.

  “Thank you, Betsy,” she said. “Here, won’t you both have a cookie? They’re fresh.” She offered the plate to Amelia, and Amelia took one.

  “Betsy, would you like one, too?” she asked.

  Betsy took a cookie and began to nibble on the edges.

  “This is really good,” Amelia said. She set her partially eaten cookie on the side of the saucer.

  Betsy blew out her breath and made a slight grimace. “Amelia’s right. They’re good.”

  Marian’s eyes darted to hers. She thought she saw a tinge of regret in her mother-in-law’s expression, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared.

  “Thank you,” Marian said simply. “There’s more. Please help yourself.”

  Somehow, Marian sat through another thirty minutes of inane chatter with the two women. She wanted to groan with relief when Amelia finally stood to say her farewells. Marian and Betsy both walked her to the door.

  “Thank you for coming,” Betsy said, her voice stiff.

  “Thank you for inviting me,” Amelia answered, and then seeming to realize she shouldn’t have said so, her eyes widened.

  Marian couldn’t abide the increasing tension. She quickly interjected, “I’m glad you came. Hopefully, we’ll see you again soon.”

  Amelia paused and glanced from Marian to Betsy then back again. “Thank you,” she finally murmured and went out the door.

  Betsy shut the door behind her.

  Marian inhaled. “That was nice. But I’d best be getting back to the daadi haus. I’m writing my newspaper article today.”