An Amish Wife for Christmas

by Patricia Davids

  The mirth sparkling in his eyes sent a flush of heat to her cheeks. How humiliating. To be caught talking to a cow about matrimonial prospects made her look ridiculous.

  She struggled to hide her embarrassment. After looking the man up and down, she stabbed the pitchfork into the hay again and dumped it into Clarabelle’s stall. “It’s rude to eavesdrop on a private conversation.”

  “I’m not sure talking to a cow qualifies as a private conversation but I am sorry to intrude.” The man put down his duffel bag.

  He didn’t look sorry. He looked like he was struggling not to laugh at her. At least he was a stranger. Maybe this mortifying episode wouldn’t become known in the community. She cringed at the thought of Jedidiah Zook hearing the story. “How can I help you?”

  “Mind if I sit here for a minute?” He pointed to a stack of straw bales beside the barn door.

  She wanted him to go away but her Amish upbringing prevented her from suggesting it. Any stranger in need deserved her help.

  He didn’t wait for her reply but limped to the closest bale and sat down with a weary sigh. “The bus driver who dropped me off said New Covenant was a little way along on this road. His idea of a little way does not match mine.”

  “It’s less than half a mile to the highway from my lane.”

  He rubbed his leg. “That’s the farthest I’ve walked in six months. How much farther do I have to go?”

  “You have arrived at the south end of our community.”

  He tipped his head slightly. “I thought New Covenant was a town.”

  “It’s more a collection of houses strung out on either side of the road right now, but it will be a thriving village one day.” She prayed she spoke the truth.

  “Glad to hear it. I’m Michael Shetler, by the way.” He took off his hat and raked his fingers through his thick dark brown hair.

  She considered not giving him her name. The less he knew to repeat the better.

  He noticed her hesitation and cleared his throat. “It’s rude not to introduce yourself in return.”

  She arched one eyebrow. “I’m being rude? That’s the pot calling the kettle black. I am Bethany Martin,” she admitted, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake.

  “Nice to meet you, Bethany. Once I’ve had a rest I’ll step outside if you want to finish your private conversation.” He winked. One corner of his mouth twitched, revealing a dimple in his cheek.

  Something about the sparkle in his blue eyes invited her to smile back at him but she firmly resisted the urge. She stabbed the pitchfork into the remaining hay and left it standing upright. “I’m glad I could supply you with some amusement today.”

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had something to smile about.”

  The clatter of hooves outside caught her attention as a horse and wagon pulled up beside the barn and stopped. She caught a glimpse of the driver through the open door. He stood and faced the barn. “Ivan Martin, are you in there? It’s Jedidiah Zook. I want to speak to you!”

  Her gaze shot to Michael. His grin widened. Her heart sank as he chuckled. “I may not have given Clarabelle enough credit. It seems your preferred beau has arrived. It was Jedidiah Zook you hoped would come courting, right?”

  She glared and shook a finger at him. “Don’t you dare repeat one word of what you heard in here.”

  * * *

  Michael couldn’t help teasing her. The high color in her cheeks and the fire in her eyes told him she was no meek Amish maid. He wagged his eyebrows. “Do you need a go-between? Shall I speak on your behalf? I’ll be happy to help any way I can.”

  “If you say anything, I’ll...I’ll...” She clamped her lips closed. The sheen of unshed tears gathered in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them back and raised her chin.

  Teasing was one thing. Upsetting her was another. He held up one hand. “Relax. Your secret is safe with me. If the cow spills the beans, that is not my fault.”

  “Stay here.” Bethany rushed past him out the wide double doors. “Guder mariye, Jedidiah. Ivan isn’t in here. He’s at school. Can I be of any help?”

  “Your brother has gone too far this time.”

  The man’s angry voice brought Michael closer to the open door to watch. Bethany faced Jedidiah defiantly with her head up and her hands on her hips. “What has he done?”

  “Two thirty-pound bags of potatoes and a ten-pound bag of dried beans are missing from my cellar.”

  “What makes you think Ivan took them?”

  “Because he sold a bag of potatoes to the general store owner just this morning.”

  She folded her arms in front of her. “That’s not proof he took them. Maybe it was one of our sacks that he sold.”

  “Was it?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You tell him I came by and that I’m on my way to report this theft to the bishop. This has gone beyond what can be ignored. It must stop. If you can’t control the boy someone else will have to.” He lifted the reins, turned the wagon around and headed down the lane.

  Michael limped out to stand beside her. “Not a very jolly fellow. Are you sure he’s the one?”

  She shot him a sour look. “In spite of what you think you heard earlier, I am not in the market for a husband.”

  Why wasn’t she married already? She was certainly attractive enough. Not that he was in the market for a relationship. He wasn’t. He might never be. He sobered at the thought. The men who shot him and robbed the store he had worked may have robbed him of a family, too. He had no idea if his PTSD would get better living in the isolation of northern Maine, but it was his last option.

  Bethany brushed past him into the barn, a fierce scowl marring her pretty features. “I need to speak to my brother and get to the bottom of this. You are welcome to rest here.”

  He was glad he wasn’t the brother in question. She went down the aisle and opened the stall door of a black mare with a white blaze. She led the mare out, tied the horse to a hitching post and began to harness her.

  “Let me do that for you.” He took a step closer.

  “I can manage,” she snapped.

  He took a step back and held one hand up. She didn’t need or want his help. In short order she had the harness on and then led the animal outside, where she backed the mare in between the shafts of the buggy parked in a lean-to at the side of the building.

  “May I?” he asked, pointing to the buggy. She nodded. He finished securing the traces on one side while she did the other. He buckled the crupper, the loop that went around the mare’s tail to keep the harness from sliding forward on the animal, as Bethany finished her side and came to check his work.

  “Danki.”

  She thanked him like it was a chore. Bethany Martin was clearly used to doing things by herself.

  Michael realized that he hadn’t looked over his shoulder once since hearing Bethany’s voice. That had to be some kind of record. He glanced around out of habit but there was nothing sinister in the farmstead and empty snow-covered fields that backed up to wooded hills on either side of the wide valley. All throughout his trip to New Covenant he’d been on edge, expecting danger from every stranger that came close to him. He’d spent most of the bus ride from Philadelphia with sweating palms and tense muscles, expecting another attack or a flashback to overtake him at any second. They never came when he was expecting them.

  He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. For the first time in weeks the knots in his neck and shoulders were missing. Maybe he was getting better. Maybe this move was the right thing, after all. He prayed it was. Nothing here reminded him of the Philadelphia street or the shop where his life had changed so drastically.

  Here the air was fresh and clean. The next house was several hundred yards up the road. Nothing crowded him. He could start over here. No one would look at him with pity or worse. He
had a job waiting for him in New Covenant and a place to live all thanks to the generosity of a man he’d never met. He needed to get going, but he was reluctant to leave Bethany’s company for some reason. Her no-nonsense attitude was comforting. He pushed the thought aside. “I should be on my way. Can you give me directions to Elijah Troyer’s farm?”

  She shot him a startled look and then glanced away. “This was his farm,” she said softly with a quiver in her voice.

  “Was? He sold it?” Michael waited impatiently for her to speak.

  She kept her gaze averted. “I’m sorry but Elijah Troyer passed away three weeks ago.”

  Michael drew back with a sharp intake of breath. “He’s dead? That can’t be.”

  He fought against the onrush of panic. What about the job? What about the place to live? Were his hopes for a new life dead, too?

  Chapter Two

  Bethany watched as Michael limped away and sat down on the hay bale inside the barn door. He rubbed his face with both hands. She could see he was deeply affected by the news of her grandfather’s death. Sympathy made her soften her tone. “I’m sorry to give you the sad news. Did you know my grandfather well?”

  Michael shook his head. “I never met him.”

  If he didn’t know her grandfather, why was he so shaken by his passing? As much as she wanted to stay and find out Michael’s connection to Elijah, she had to speak to Ivan as soon as possible. If he had stolen the potatoes and beans as Jedidiah claimed, the items would have to be returned at once, but there had to be some mistake. Her brother wasn’t a thief.

  Please let it be a mistake, Lord.

  The bishop would never reconsider sending Ivan to live with Onkel Harvey if Jedidiah’s claim was true.

  She slipped the reins through the slot under the winter windshield of the buggy. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a chance to meet my grandfather. He was a wonderful man.”

  “He offered me a job working for him. Is that job still available?”

  “I know nothing about such an offer. Are you sure it was my grandfather who promised you work?”

  “Elijah Troyer, in New Covenant, Maine. That’s what the letter said. Is there another Elijah Troyer in the community?”

  “There is not. I don’t know what my grandfather had in mind, but I can’t afford to hire someone right now.”

  “I was also told I would have a place to stay. I reckon if there’s no job there’s no lodging, either?”

  Was he talking about the small cabin that sat at the back of her property? Her grandfather had mentioned readying it for a tenant before he became ill, but she didn’t know if he had finished the repairs. Besides, she wasn’t ready to host a lodger. Nor did she want to leave Michael Shetler like this. He appeared dazed and lost. Her heart went out to him.

  “You should speak to our bishop, Elmer Schultz. I’m sure he can help. He won’t be at home this time of day, but I can give you a ride to his place of business.”

  “It seems I don’t have much choice. Danki.”

  Michael slowly climbed into the passenger seat. Bethany walked around the back and got in on the driver’s side. She picked up the reins. “The school is about three miles from here.”

  “I thought we were going to the bishop’s place of business.”

  “We are but I must stop at the school first. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “As long as I don’t have to walk three miles I don’t mind.”

  From the corner of her eye Bethany noticed him rubbing his leg frequently. It must pain him a great deal. This close to him she noticed the dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept well. He was pale, too. She sat silent for the first half mile of their trip but her curiosity about Michael got the better of her. “Where are you from?”

  “My family lives in Holmes County, Ohio. My father and brother have a construction business in Sugarcreek.”

  “Did you work in construction with them?”

  “Nee.” He didn’t elaborate.

  “I’ve heard that’s a large Amish community. Do you have a lot of tourists who visit there?”

  “We do.”

  “Like where I am from. Bird-in-Hand, Pennsylvania. My grandfather wanted to start a community that wasn’t dependent on tourism. Don’t get me wrong, he knew how important the industry is to many Amish who can’t make a living farming, but it wasn’t the lifestyle he wanted to live.”

  Michael pulled his coat tighter. “There had to be warmer places to settle.”

  She chuckled as she looked out over the snow-covered fields that flanked the road. “The coldest part of the winter has yet to come.”

  “So why here?”

  “The price of land and the ability to purchase farms large enough to support big families were more of a consideration than the weather. Plus, we were warmly welcomed by the people here. Many local families have been here for generations. They like the idea that we want to be here and farm for generations, too. A lot of the elders in the community remember farming with horses when they were children. Folks are very independent minded in Maine. They know what hard work is. When someone has to sell farmland they would rather sell it to the Amish because we will live on it and farm it as their grandparents did. They consider it preferable to selling to a large farming corporation intent on grabbing up as much land as possible.”

  “What do you grow here besides snowdrifts?”

  She smiled. “Potatoes. Maine is the third-largest producer of potatoes in the United States. Broccoli grows well in the cool climate as do many other vegetables.”

  “As long as you don’t get an early freeze.”

  “That’s true of farming in Ohio or almost anywhere.”

  “I guess you’re right about that.”

  The main highway followed the curve of the river and after another mile Fort Craig came into view. Bethany turned off the highway into a residential area at the outskirts of town. The elementary school was located in a cul-de-sac at the end of the street.

  As she drew the horse to a stop in front of the school she noticed several of the classes were out at recess. She stepped down from the buggy and caught sight of her sister, Jenny, playing with several other girls on the swings. Jenny spotted her and ran over. “Sister, what are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to speak to Ivan. Did he get on the bus with you this morning?”

  Jenny shook her head. “Nee, he said Jeffrey’s mom was going to bring him to school.”

  “And did she?”

  “I don’t know. Sister, I have wunderbar goot news.”

  Bethany crouched to meet Jenny’s gaze. “Have you seen Ivan today?”

  Jenny screwed up her face as she concentrated. “I don’t think so. You should ask his teacher.”

  Bethany stood upright. “That’s exactly what I plan to do.”

  “Don’t you want to hear my news?”

  “In a minute.”

  Jenny’s happy expression faded. Michael got out of the buggy. He took several stiff steps. “I just need to stretch my legs a little.”

  “Who is that?” Jenny asked in a loud whisper.

  Bethany was inpatient to find Ivan but she made the introduction. “This is Michael Shetler. He’s a newcomer. This is my sister, Jenny.”

  He nodded toward her. “I’m pleased to meet you, Jenny. I’d love to hear your news.”

  “You would?” Jenny asked hopefully.

  “Sure. It must be important. You look ready to burst.”

  Jenny smiled from ear to ear. “I got picked to be in the community Christmas play. I’m going to be the aerator.”

  Bethany looked at Michael. He returned her questioning gaze and shook his head slightly. Jenny was bouncing up and down with happiness.

  Bethany smiled at her. “That is wunderbar. What does the aerator do?”

&nbs
p; “I get to tell everyone the Christmas story in English and in Pennsylvania Dutch while the other kids act out the scenes. Ivan is going to sing a song by himself.”

  From the corner of her eye, Bethany saw Michael rub a hand across his mouth to hide a grin. Bethany was afraid she’d start laughing if she looked at him again. Learning English as a second language was difficult for many Amish children who spoke only Pennsylvania Dutch until they started school. “I’m sure you will make a goot narrator if you practice hard.”

  “I’ll practice lots and lots if you help me.”

  “You know I will.”

  “I need to have an angel costume, too. I’m going to be an angel aerator.”

  “Angel narrator,” Michael corrected her in a gentle tone.

  “Narrator,” Jenny replied slowly. He nodded and she grinned at him.

  Bethany patted her sister’s head. “We’ll talk about it when you come home from school this evening.”

  “Okay.” Jenny took off to rejoin her friends.

  “Cute kid,” Michael said, still grinning. “How many siblings do you have?”

  “Just Jenny and Ivan. Excuse me while I check on him.” Bethany headed through the front doors of the school. She found the eighth-grade room and looked in through the open door. Ivan wasn’t in his seat. His best friend, Jeffrey, was missing, too.

  A bell sounded in the empty hall, startling her. The boys and girls in the room filed to the back to gather their coats, mittens and hats from hooks before rushing past her to get outside. After the last child exited the room Bethany stepped inside. “Ms. Kenworthy, may I have a word with you?”

  The teacher looked up from her desk. “Miss Martin, of course. Do come in. I was just getting ready to write a note to you.”

  “About Ivan?”

  “Yes. I hope he is feeling better. He’s missed almost an entire week of school. I have a list of homework assignments for him to complete and hand in when he returns.”