Amish Brides

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  With a deep breath to restore what she could of her good nature, Reba took a step toward school.

  “Ow!” Her ankle nearly gave way underneath her. She winced and tried again. She must have bruised it when she fell. She tentatively shifted her weight to that foot once again, but couldn’t bear it all. But she had no other way to get to the schoolhouse. She lurched forward, her ankle throbbing and the water in her shoes squishing with each halting step.

  What a day this was turning out to be. And all because her brother was getting married. Well, her next-to-oldest brother, Jess.

  If any of her brothers deserved a bit of happiness or a second chance at love, it was Jess. His wife had been killed over a year ago in a tragic buggy accident. Linda Grace left Jess with three little girls to raise and a dairy farm to run. But last Christmas Jess had met their new teacher, Bernice Yoder. Reba wouldn’t say it was love at first sight. Jess and Bernice got off to a rocky start, since the new teacher had come out to the house to talk with Jess about the way his children were arriving at school. But somehow they had managed to work through their differences and fall in love. Which was the exact reason Reba was on her way to the schoolhouse today. Bernice had wanted a little time off to get ready for the wedding; there were just so many plans to make, even in an off-season wedding. Next year they would have a new teacher, but in the meantime, Reba had offered to fill in.

  She was beginning to regret that decision.

  No. She shifted her thoughts. It wasn’t Jess’s fault. Nor Bernice’s. The buggy driver. He was to blame. Some people had no sense of community or responsibility. They only thought of themselves and didn’t give one care for the people around them. It was a shame, really. That wasn’t the Amish way.

  Limp. Squish. Limp. Squish. The white-painted, one-room schoolhouse finally came into view. She had never realized how far it was to the school until she had to walk it on a swollen ankle while water dripped into her eyes and mud dried on her face. She stopped in the drive of the school, her feet stuck in the fine gravel. What was she going to do? She couldn’t teach school like this.

  She looked down at herself one more time just to make sure. Jah, her deep rose dress was dripping wet, her black apron smeared with mud. She could only imagine that her prayer kapp, hair, and face had suffered a similar fate.

  “Aenti Reba?” Her eldest niece, Constance, was standing in front of her. The sweet, blond-haired child must have stopped playing with her friends to come meet Reba in the drive. “Are you okay?”

  Reba pulled herself out of her thoughts and focused on Constance. “Jah. Of course.” She forced a bright smile. No sense in letting some big oaf with no manners ruin her entire day.

  “What happened?”

  Reba waved one hand in the air as if it were no big thing. “I slipped on the way here, and I fell in a big puddle.”

  Constance’s big gray eyes grew even wider. “Oh.”

  “But school’s about to start, and I can’t wear these clothes to teach. Would you mind running to Mammi’s house and getting me a clean dress?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  And what clean dress is she supposed to get for you?

  Constance moved as if to walk past, but Reba stopped her. “You’ll have to have Mammi help you,” Reba said. “The laundry is sort of backed up these days.”

  “I will.” Constance gave an understanding nod. “Do you want me to get you a clean prayer kapp as well?”

  So it was as she thought. Her covering was also a mess. It was scandalous.

  “Yes, please.”

  Constance smiled and started toward the road.

  Bless that girl. Reba watched her headed down the road. With any luck she would be back in half an hour. Until then, Reba would get everyone to reading at their desks and she could assess the situation. Maybe get the mud from her face. She pressed the back of one hand against her forehead. It came back streaked with mud. And her hair. Don’t forget her hair.

  “Reba! Reba! Reba!” Johnny Lapp ran toward her, his silky blond hair flying out behind him. But that was Johnny. The boy never walked anywhere, preferring to get where he was going as quickly as possible. Maybe she should have sent him after her clean clothes.

  She pushed that thought away. “Jah?”

  “The repairman is here. He told me to tell you so.”

  The repair—“Oh, right.” She had momentarily forgotten that the board had wanted to do a couple of repairs around the schoolhouse before it let out for summer. One of which was the leaky roof.

  What a fabulous day!

  She was wet, covered in mud, and had to deal with a stranger in the classroom as she tried to teach the scholars. As if only two weeks left of school wasn’t enough to set their minds to daydreaming.

  “Danki, Johnny. Can you ring the bell and help me get everyone in their seats?”

  He nodded his head, then frowned. “What happened to you?” he asked, just then taking in her untidy appearance.

  “I had a little accident on the walk here. That’s why I need your help. Are you up for the job?”

  “Jah.” He gave an important nod, then sped off to ring the bell.

  Reba limped up the drive, waving to the children who called out a greeting. Somehow she managed to smile with every step even though her ankle was radiating pain to the ends of her toes and clear up to her knee.

  A new-looking buggy was parked to one side, the dark horse tethered to the hitching post. There was something familiar about the beast. Or maybe that was the pain making her thinking cloudy.

  Clang! Clang! Clang! Johnny rang the bell. The kids stopped what they were doing and started up the schoolhouse steps. At the sound, a stranger stepped around the side of the carriage. A handsome stranger.

  Reba stumbled, and even though her ankle was paining her so badly she was nauseous, she managed to catch herself before she fell face-first at the stranger’s feet. Did she mention he was handsome?

  “Whoa, there.” He snagged her arm before she could stumble again. Something about his voice . . .

  “Danki,” she murmured. She did her best not to stare into his midnight blue eyes. Of course the day a handsome stranger walked into her life, she looked like she had been used as a rug at the annual mud sale.

  “Did you have some trouble on the way in?” He took his hand from her arm, and his warmth went with it.

  She shivered as another bead of water slid down her spine. Her prayer kapp strings dripped down the back of her dress.

  “Jah. I’ve had quite a morning.”

  He smiled, flashing deep dimples in both cheeks. Was it bad of her that she noticed he was clean shaven and unmarried? “So you don’t normally come to work soaking wet?”

  “No.” She laughed. “This big oaf ran me off the road this morning.” She shook her head. “His horse got away from him. He didn’t even stop.”

  His smile froze on his face. “That was you?”

  She blinked, everything falling into place. “It was you!” She took a step back, only barely aware that the scholars were watching them through the windows. She moved closer to him so she wouldn’t have to raise her voice. Though she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. “You are the most inconsiderate man I have ever met in my life.”

  “I apologize.”

  “That hardly helps me now, does it? I’m covered with mud and gunk and grass.”

  He gave her a sheepish grin, almost shy. Like that was going to change her mind about what happened. “My horse got away from me. That beast is unreliable, for sure.”

  “Like others I know.”

  He stopped and blinked as if he wasn’t sure of her meaning, then it became clear. “I think you’re being a little harsh. I said I was sorry.”

  “That doesn’t exactly get me clean and dry, now does it?”

  * * *

  Abel blinked once again, trying to figure out what her problem was. Well, he knew what her problem was, but it wasn’t like he meant to knock her into a puddle. “What can
I do to make it up to you?” It was all he could offer. He couldn’t go back in time and do this morning all over again.

  Or even back to yesterday when he bought the crazy horse.

  When something looks too good to be true, it probably is.

  His dawdi’s words came back to him. Why hadn’t he remembered them yesterday when he’d bought the horse for barely half of its estimated worth? Why hadn’t he spent a little time training him instead of immediately taking him out on the road? With all the trouble the horse had caused him, the previous owner should have paid him to take the beast.

  She looked down at herself. Water dripped from every edge of her clothing. Mud streaked her face, her prayer kapp, and her legs. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  “How about lunch?” There had to be something. She looked beyond pitiable, soggy, mud-caked, angry.

  “I already have a lu—” She stopped, looked around her, then sighed. “I had a lunch . . . earlier. . . .”

  Which meant her lunch cooler had become his victim as well. Most probably it was floating next to where she had fallen in the gigantic roadside puddle.

  “Lunch,” he said again. “It’s the least I can do.”

  She opened her mouth, to tell him no, he was certain, but he cut her off before she could speak.

  “What are you going to eat?”

  “I’ll find something.”

  Just then one of the little girls hurried up carrying a plastic grocery sack. “Mammi said this was the only dress she could find for you.” She handed the bag to the teacher.

  “Danki, Constance.”

  The blond-haired girl smiled and skipped up the steps into the schoolhouse.

  “I’ll just let you . . .” He flicked a hand toward the bag.

  She just nodded, turned on one heel, and limped her way into the schoolhouse, trailing water behind her the entire way.

  * * *

  The dress must have belonged to her mammi. Her father’s mother had been an ample woman and the dress hung off Reba’s shoulders and fell nearly to her ankles. Thankfully, the apron was hers and fit, but all that did was make her dress bunch around her waist. Even worse was the color. A muddy gray that did nothing for her pale complexion. Her mamm would tell her that she shouldn’t worry about such things, but at her age and unmarried? She had to worry about it all.

  She used a wet wipe to wash most of the dirt from her arms and legs, but when it came to her ankle . . . ouch! It had already turned a sickly shade of purple and blue. She supposed it would have been a good color for a dress or the sky just after sunset, but when it came to skin, it was a color she didn’t want to see. Her ankle was also nearly twice the size it should have been, the swelling stretching as far as her toes. And now that she had taken her shoe off, she didn’t think she’d be able to get it back on. It might be a little unusual, but she supposed she could teach today with only one shoe. Wearing a too-big dress, a fitted apron, and a soiled prayer kapp, since her mamm hadn’t included one, while sitting down since she could hardly stand any weight on her ankle. What a day!

  She limped out of the storage room and somehow managed to make it to the front of the class. But only barely. She collapsed into her chair and surveyed her eager scholars.

  Oh, who was she trying to kid? They weren’t eager. They were ready to go fishing and swimming. She remembered when she was in school, even working in the fields was better than sitting in a classroom all day.

  “Okay, everyone. I know this is going to be a little different today, but we all have to work together, all right?”

  All of the desks had been pushed as close together as possible so the repairman could work. The scholars’ attention was split between the strange man on a ladder and their seated teacher.

  “Everyone but the first grade, get out your reading books. First grade come up here for math. We’re going to do things a little differently today.”

  Somehow Reba managed to keep everyone’s attention for the beginning part of the morning. Especially since the repairman—Abel, she learned his name was sometime during the morning—was pounding away at a spot in the ceiling.

  He climbed down his ladder and disappeared a little after eleven, returning just as she had one of the eighth graders ring the bell for lunch.

  “I hope you like pizza.” But he didn’t have pizza for just the two of them. He had pizza for the whole class.

  The children cheered. But Reba wasn’t willing to completely forgive him. Not just yet.

  “Pizza?” he asked, holding out a plate with two slices of pepperoni.

  “Danki,” she murmured as she accepted the food.

  “Here’s a drink for you, Reba.” Hope, another of Jess’s girls, handed her a plastic cup full of water. “Constance told me to bring it to you.”

  Reba smiled at her niece. “Thank you to both of you.”

  “Does your ankle really hurt?” Hope asked.

  It throbbed like the dickens, but there was no sense telling Hope that. “I’ll be okay.” Once the swelling went down.

  “You hurt your ankle?”

  Reba reluctantly nodded. She supposed that he had been so busy with the repair that he hadn’t noticed that she was seated the entire morning.

  “Can I take a look at it?”

  She started to tell him no, but swiveled in her chair, holding her foot out for him to see. If she had thought the swelling was bad this morning, it was doubly so now. And sometime during the morning, the purple and blue had been joined by a sickening pink.

  “That’s broken,” Abel said, his words blunt and straight to the point.

  Reba shook her head. “It’s just sprained. It’ll be okay in a day or two.”

  “No, it won’t,” he said, with a shake of his head. “And I’m sorry, but that is definitely broken.”

  Chapter 2

  “A broken ankle,” Reba groused as she hobbled up the porch steps toward home.

  “Can I help you?”

  She shook off her father’s attention and pulled herself up using the handrails. Reba stopped at the top and turned toward her dat. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  A broken ankle, and it was all Abel Weaver’s fault. Well, his horse’s fault, at least. And now she would spend the next eight weeks in a walking boot. She stumped into the house and did her best to reverse her mood. She hated the boot, but she hated hating it even more.

  “How’d it go?” Mamm came out of the kitchen, tossing a dish towel over one shoulder. The house smelled wonderful, like oven-fried chicken, tomato pie, and green beans.

  Reba’s stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t actually eaten lunch. Abel had taken one look at her ankle, and the next thing she knew, she was in a car and on her way to the emergency clinic. He had stayed with her in the waiting room until her father arrived, then Abel had headed out. She supposed he figured he had done enough. Jah, right.

  “It’s broken,” Reba and Dat answered at the same time.

  “Oh, my.” Mamm shook her head.

  “When are we eating?” Reba asked. Her ankle was stabilized, but hurt like crazy. She would definitely need to eat before she took any of the pain medication the doctor had prescribed.

  “Jess has someone coming over tonight to talk about doing the repairs on his house.”

  “Why aren’t they eating at his house?”

  Mamm frowned. “Jess needed some help, Reba.”

  “I know,” she groused. This whole ordeal had made her cranky.

  “Somebody didn’t get to eat lunch today,” Dat said.

  Mamm nodded in that understanding way of hers. “Go change your dress, Reba. I’ll fix you a snack to hold you over until supper.”

  * * *

  After a small plate of cheese and crackers, Reba felt a little more like herself. Abner arrived home, teasing her about the boot. Reba liked to believe he was simply happy she was still alive, but he felt the need to hide his feelings.

  She tried to help Mamm, but she wouldn’t hear of it, wa
ving Reba back into the living room “to rest.” Reba was quietly grateful. The boot was heavy and awkward. Aside from the pain, she was plumb worn out from the day.

  “Reba! Reba! Reba!” Constance, Hope, and Lilly Ruth skidded into the house, their eyes searching her for any signs that she was injured beyond what they had been told.

  “We were so worried,” Constance said.

  “I’m fine.” Reba gave them a smile.

  “After you left, Johnny Lapp’s mother came to take over the class.” Hope made a face.

  “She smells funny,” Lilly Ruth said.

  Constance elbowed her in the side. “You’re not supposed to say things like that.”

  “But it’s true,” Lilly Ruth returned. “If I said she smelled good, that would be a lie.”

  “You’re not supposed to talk about how people smell.”

  “Not even if they smell good? Like Abel.” She grinned. “He smells good.”

  “Lilly Ruth.” Jess’s tone was low with warning.

  Constance rolled her eyes, but only where her father couldn’t see her.

  Reba resisted the urge to join her. “Not even if they smell good,” Reba confirmed. The last person, the very last person, she wanted to talk about was Abel Weaver. With any luck and the good Lord’s grace, she would never have to lay eyes on him again.

  A quick knock sounded on the door.

  “That must be him.”

  Jah, the mysterious guest who was coming to help Jess get his house ready for the wedding.

  Jess opened the door, waving in whoever was standing over the threshold. “Come in. Come in.”

  And Abel Weaver stepped into the house.

  “You!” She glared at him.

  He jumped, obviously not expecting her to be there. “Reba?” His blue eyes roamed over her, taking in the propped-up foot and the boot covering her leg from the bottom of her knee to the tips of her toes. “So I was right. It is broken.”

  “How very helpful of you to run women off the road, then diagnose their injuries.”

  “Reba!” Mamm scolded.

  The second the words left her mouth she regretted them. “Sorry,” she mumbled.