His Amish Choice

by Leigh Bale

  Jeremiah snorted, then took another bite of food, chewed calmly and swallowed before responding. “I don’t want you to hurt her again the way you did last time you left. Nor do I want her to run away with you. You sent her letters before. I imagine they asked for her to join you in Denver.”

  So. Here it was. The topic had turned around to the letters. Eli knew it would. Eventually. And he couldn’t deny that he had asked Lizzie to come to him in those letters.

  “I didn’t run away. I just left,” Eli said.

  One of Jeremiah’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “Is there a difference?”

  “I think so. But are you referring to the letters I wrote to Lizzie, which you returned to me? Unopened? Without even telling her about them?”

  Jeremiah met Eli’s gaze without a single drop of shame in his eyes.

  “Ja, those would be the ones. I don’t want you to do that again. It would hurt Lizzie too much. She is a gut maedel and deserves better from her fiancé.”

  “We were only fourteen years old when I asked her to marry me.”

  “So? Why does it matter how old you were? Are you a man of your word or not?” Jeremiah paused, waiting for a response that didn’t come.

  Once again, Eli felt rotten inside. The foolishness of his youth seemed to keep haunting him.

  “I regret hurting her more than I can say. When she didn’t write back to me, I assumed she no longer wanted me and our engagement was broken,” Eli said.

  Jeremiah didn’t respond to that. He simply looked at Eli with that calm, unemotional expression of his. Finally, he picked up his fork and took a big bite of pie.

  “I don’t regret returning your letters and I’d do it again if the situation was the same,” Jeremiah said.

  Eli flinched at these words. He thought their conversation was over, but apparently not.

  “I do regret that my dochder got hurt when you ran away to the Englisch world,” Jeremiah continued. “I hope you’ve figured out who you are by now. Because no amount of education, no career or accolades of men, no wealth or worldly success can ever compensate for failure in your own home. Every man must live with the man he makes of himself. As you prepare for your future, I hope you’ll never forget that. Especially where my dochder is concerned.”

  Every man must live with the man he makes of himself.

  Eli hesitated, these words playing over and over in his mind. Since it was an old Amish saying, he’d heard it many times from his own father. But never before had it struck him with such powerful force. Such meaning.

  He thought about the past, present and future, and wanted more than anything to be content with the man he became at the end of his life. To be able to meet the Lord without shame. To know he’d done his absolute best and kept trying even when he failed. To have as few regrets in his life as he could possibly make. But what did that have to do with Lizzie? They were no longer engaged and his future no longer included her.

  Or did it?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Over the next few weeks, Lizzie and her familye settled into a routine. In the mornings and early afternoons, Jeremiah grudgingly accepted Eli’s help with the simple exercises the doctor had recommended. When they drove into town to visit Dr. McGann, he was more than pleased by Jeremiah’s progress.

  Each evening, before he went home, Eli would come into the house to sit and talk with Jeremiah about his work for the following day. No longer did Lizzie’s father speak to Eli with a gruff, disapproving voice, although he was still reserved around the younger man.

  On this particular afternoon, the wind and a lashing rain buffeted the house, but Lizzie felt warm and cozy inside. Because of the stormy weather, she had dried the laundry on racks set up in the living room. As she folded each piece and laid it inside the wicker basket, she couldn’t help eavesdropping on the men’s low conversation. The little girls sat on the couch nearby, reading quietly to one another. Outside, dark clouds filled the sky. The rain had slowed to a smattering that hit the windowpanes. Lizzie glanced that way, grateful to be inside. As she lit a kerosene lamp and set it nearby on a table so the children could see more easily, she thought the moment seemed so tranquil. So relaxed and normal, but it wasn’t. Not for Lizzie.

  No matter how many days passed, she couldn’t forget the kiss she’d shared with Eli. Every time she saw him, she became nervous and quivery inside. When she thought of how much he must still love Shannon, she felt completely confused. Why had he kissed her? Had he forgotten who she was? But more than that, why had she kissed him back?

  “What about the disc plow? Have you sharpened the blades yet?” Jeremiah asked Eli.

  The older man sat upright on his bed with several pillows to support his back. Eli sat nearby in a hard chair.

  “Ja, I took care of that as soon as Lizzie and I finished baling and putting the hay away,” came Eli’s even reply.

  “And the baler...does it need any maintenance?”

  Eli shook his head. “Ne, but I cleaned it out gut and got it ready for next season. The harness required mending and I replaced several buckles. The maed helped me.”

  Jeremiah glanced at his younger daughters, approval shining in his eyes.

  “The barn roof also needed a few repairs. I found your extra shingles and did the work before the storms hit,” Eli said.

  “Gut, gut. Tomorrow, I’d like you to check the fence again, if the weather isn’t too bad. I don’t want any of the livestock to get out.”

  “I will do so,” Eli confirmed.

  Hefting the laundry basket, Lizzie climbed the stairs. She felt a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. Eli had become immersed in their lives, almost as if he was a part of their familye. And he wasn’t.

  He acted as if he wanted to stay in Riverton, but Lizzie knew he was still drawn to worldly pursuits. If only he could find his Gelassenheit and accept that he was born to be an Amish man. She wondered how his leaving might impact his parents and the rest of the Gmay.

  And her.

  Thinking about his eventual departure made her heart pound harder. She told herself it was because she feared for his salvation. Her faith would allow nothing less. She truly believed that, if he turned his back on their faith and left Riverton, his soul would be in jeopardy. And no matter how many times she told herself it was his choice, she still longed for a way to convince him to stay.

  Inside the children’s room, she placed their folded clothes tidily in their dressers. She crossed the hall to her room and looked up. A shoebox she did not recognize sat on top of her chest of drawers.

  Wondering what it was, she set the laundry basket on the floor, then lifted the lid to the box. A gasp tore from her throat and she stepped back, covering her lips with the fingertips of one hand. Her thoughts scattered. Inside, tied together with a bit of string, was a hefty stack of sealed letters. Each one was addressed to her, the postmark from Denver several years earlier. Without asking, she knew these were Eli’s letters. The ones her father had returned.

  Reaching inside, she lifted out the stack, then closed the door to give herself more privacy. The bed bounced gently as she sat on one corner. Resting the pile of letters in her lap, she stared at them for at least five minutes. Her body trembled when she finally untied the string. She withdrew the first letter, but her shaking hands immediately dropped it to the floor. Bending at the waist, she picked it up. What was the matter with her? After so many years, these letters should make no difference in her life. They shouldn’t matter. But they did.

  Obviously, Eli had put the letters here for her to find. Maybe she should return them to him, or burn them and forget they ever existed.

  The envelopes had been arranged in chronological order. She told herself that, if she didn’t read them, nothing in her life would change. She could go on the way she was, filled with heartbreak and doubt. And that’s when she realized how comforta
ble she’d become with those two emotions as her constant companions.

  She felt compelled to read. She had to know what Eli had said to her. The letters were a part of her somehow. A part of her life—and Eli’s life—that she’d missed because her father had withheld them from her.

  She slid her finger beneath the flap of the first envelope. As she pulled out the crisp pages and unfolded them, she took a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves. She immediately recognized Eli’s scrawling handwriting. Her gaze scanned the words, a hard lump as big as a boulder lodging in her throat. Eli conveyed his regrets over leaving her without saying goodbye. He expressed his love for her and a wish that she would join him in Denver. He still wanted to marry her, if she wanted him. He would await her reply...a response that never came.

  One by one, Lizzie read the pile of letters, dazed by Eli’s explanations of his fierce desire for a college education and skeptical of his declarations of love for her. Toward the end, he conveyed the deep sense of loss he felt when she didn’t write back, and returned his letters unopened. In between, he discussed his schooling and work as a waiter in a restaurant to make ends meet. He looked mature for his age and had rented a studio apartment that was small but clean and had room for her. Every day, he walked to school, sitting in classes that tantalized his intellect and convinced him more and more of an eternal Gott who loved all his children unconditionally. Instead of weakening his faith, his education had strengthened his beliefs. Several times, he asked why she wouldn’t write to him. He begged her to reconsider and join him in his Englisch life.

  To marry him.

  And then the final letter. Lizzie maintained her composure as she read Eli’s deep sense of sorrow because he realized he’d lost her for good. He said he understood why she hadn’t written him. That their breakup was his fault and he couldn’t blame her for not wanting a life with him outside of the Gmay. She deserved a man of faith who never questioned their leaders or Gott’s will for them. It was time for them both to move on.

  And that was the end.

  Folding the last letter, Lizzie added it to the stack and retied the string. She put the letters back in their box and settled the lid over the top of them. Fearing her father or sisters might find and read them, she slid them far beneath her bed where they wouldn’t be discovered easily.

  So, now she knew. She’d finally read Eli’s letters. His words were highly personal and gave her a new insight into who he really was inside. And for the first time since she’d known him, she finally understood his desire to learn new things. And she was surprised to find that it didn’t make her angry anymore. Because she’d loved him so much, she couldn’t condemn him. She had to let him choose for himself, no matter how much it hurt her.

  Taking a deep, settling breath, she smoothed her skirt and apron. A quick glance in the tiny mirror on her nightstand caused her to tidy her hair and adjust her kapp. Chores were waiting. She had to go on with her life. She couldn’t while away the day by sulking here in her room. She had to go downstairs and tend to her father and sisters. She had to be strong and resolute. Firm in her faith and her place in the world.

  She took a step toward the door. She clutched the knob, but couldn’t make it turn so she could leave. She stared at the oak panel, her vision blurring. Something gave way inside of her and she burst into deep, trembling sobs.

  * * *

  It was time to go. The rain had finally stopped, the evening air filled with the crisp scent of damp sage. Eli had finished his work and harnessed his horse to the buggy, but couldn’t seem to get inside and drive away. Instead, he stood at the barn doors, gazing out at the damp farmyard. It was already dark with not even the stars or moon to light his way home. Without being able to see them, he knew the sky was filled with heavy, black clouds.

  For the sake of safety, he should get on the road now, before it got any later. Mamm and Daed were expecting him for supper. But he hesitated, wondering if Lizzie had read the letters he’d left in her room. Wondering if she might come out to speak with him about them. He’d watched her go upstairs and knew she must have found them.

  As he surveyed the house, the lights in the kitchen brightened and he knew she must be inside, preparing supper for her familye. Soon, Jeremiah would be up and walking again. His leg would continue to heal and he wouldn’t need Eli’s help on the farm anymore. Eli could leave, if he chose to do so. He could return to Denver and his old life there. No Shannon or Lizzie to welcome him. No love to share.

  Completely alone.

  Lizzie wasn’t coming out to the barn. His stomach rumbled and he realized it was time to eat. His parents would be worried if he didn’t arrive soon. Lizzie was occupied elsewhere. She probably didn’t care about the letters now. He wasn’t sure what he had expected. That she would read them and come running into his arms to declare that she still loved him? That she wanted to marry him and raise a familye with him here in Riverton? That wasn’t what he wanted, was it? He was still in love with Shannon. Right?

  He snorted and turned away, returning to his buggy. He’d always been so firm in what he wanted out of life. So convinced that the Englisch life was best for him. But now, he felt nothing but conflict. He was even starting to doubt his love for Shannon. Sometimes, he couldn’t remember her face. All he could remember was Lizzie. And that wasn’t right. No, it couldn’t be.

  Pulling on his warm gloves, he led the horse out into the yard and secured the barn doors. He climbed into his buggy seat and took hold of the lead lines.

  “Schritt!” he called.

  The horse stepped forward, pulling the buggy through puddles of water along the dirt road.

  Eli figured his letters to Lizzie were too little, too late. In the time since he had written them, he’d fallen in love with someone else. It still hurt like a knife to his heart every time he thought about losing Shannon. But lately, he couldn’t remember the shape of her eyes, or the contour of her chin. Whenever he thought about her, his thoughts turned to Lizzie. Which was foolish because she didn’t care for him anymore. Not romantically, anyway. They’d both moved on with their lives. And yet, he couldn’t help wishing...

  He was being stupid! He had no idea why he’d kissed her. He’d been so embarrassed by what he’d done. So ashamed.

  He turned the buggy onto the county road, pulling over to the shoulder. The horse trotted forward, eager to get home.

  Every time Lizzie was in the room with him, Eli felt a deeper sense of guilt. Kissing her had been wrong on so many levels. His lapse in judgment hadn’t been fair to either of them. It might lead her to believe there could be something between them again. That he still loved her the way he used to. And he didn’t. Did he?

  He remembered all the times when he’d thought Lizzie was rejecting his letters because she was disappointed in him. He thought she had returned them all to him. Because he’d turned his back on his faith and their love. And all that time, she hadn’t even known that he had written to her. From her perspective, she must have thought he’d abandoned her completely, without any explanation. That he’d broken all his promises to her. That he’d chosen the world over her. And that wasn’t true. He’d begged her to join him—had wanted to share the world with her. But that had been a foolish dream. Lizzie had never wanted a life anywhere other than here.

  He shook his head. The letter from Tom Caldwell was still folded inside his hat. He hadn’t responded to the job offer yet. For the time being, Lizzie’s familye still needed his help. But soon, Jeremiah would be back on his feet. So, what was holding Eli back? He wasn’t sure, but knew he’d have to make a decision soon. And he’d need to speak to Lizzie as well. To tell her he was deeply, genuinely sorry for how things had not worked out between them. She deserved that apology and so much more. He only hoped she could find it in her heart to forgive him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The day of Church Sunday was a pleasant surpri
se. The Sangre de Cristo Mountains were coated with snow, but down in the valley everything had melted off the roads and fields. The sun gleamed bright and surprisingly warm in the morning sky. Not bad, considering they were only a week away from Thanksgiving. As Lizzie hurried to gather the eggs, she thought it most fitting for the Gmay’s semiannual Communion meeting. It should be a day of enlightenment and confidence in the Lord. But for herself, she still felt overshadowed by qualms.

  “Lizzie?”

  She turned. Eli stood just beyond the open doorway, his dark hair shining against his sun-bronzed face. Wearing his best clothes, he held his hat in his hands. Seeing him brought a quick leap of excitement to her chest, but she tried to squelch it. She’d avoided him for a long time now. Perhaps today of all days, it was time to speak with him and let go of her harsh feelings. Instead of nursing her own broken heart, she should think about other people for a change...starting with Eli.

  Carrying the wire basket filled with eggs, she stepped outside and latched the door of the chicken coop. Then, she looked up into his eyes.

  “Guder mariye, Eli. Wie bischt du heit?”

  “I am gut, but I am worried about you,” he said.

  She took a deep inhale of the crisp air and let it go, reminding herself to remain calm. To trust in the Lord. And to forgive.

  “Why would you be worried about me?” she asked, thinking she knew the answer, but not quite sure.

  He looked at the ground, his chiseled profile so handsome that she almost reached out to touch his cheek. Almost.

  “I...I owe you an apology,” he said.

  Yes, he did, but she didn’t say that.

  “For what?” she said instead.

  His gaze met hers and in his eyes, she saw deep remorse there. “For so many things. For kissing you. For leaving all those years ago without saying goodbye in person. For not coming to see you when you didn’t respond to my letters. For breaking off our engagement. For being a stupid, foolish kid. I was young and dumm and wanted a rumspringa.”