Never an Amish Bride

by Ophelia London

  Lucas sat up straight and looked at his mother. What should he do? Hide? Run away?

  “Stay exactly where you are, son,” Maam said, her voice strong and steady, giving Lucas a jolt of strength. She took his hand and squeezed.

  Footsteps were on the front porch, then voices. Lucas frowned and leaned forward, straining to hear. It had been a while, but that did not sound like his father’s voice.

  “It’s fine, it’s fine,” a voice said. “We don’t have to knock.” The front door opened, and Lucas felt his jaw go slack when Lizzy walked in. “Lydia, are you home? It’s Lizzy.”

  Lucas’s muscles relaxed in relief, and he was about to greet his sister-in-law when someone came inside behind her.

  A burst of coldness filled his stomach, then expanded. Intellectually, Lucas knew his body was going into shock, but the medical part of his brain had gone blank. Esther’s wide eyes were fixed on him as she stood frozen…in his mother’s doorway.

  Lizzy beamed. “There you are! Oh.” She stopped when she noticed Lucas. “What are you…?”

  Lucas barely acknowledged her but was fixated on her companion. Esther wore a light gray dress with a matching gray apron, her blond hair pulled into a tidy bun covered by a black bonnet. The soft skin at her throat and cheeks was marbling pink.

  “Esther, dear, hallo,” his mother said, dropping Lucas’s hand to greet her guests. A second later, she turned to Lizzy. “May I ask what you’re doing here, Elizabeth? You’re supposed to be at home in bed. The whole village knows it.” Before anyone could speak, Maam straightened her apron. “I’m so sorry. Esther, I hope you remember my son Lucas from when you were a child. He’s been gone a while.”

  During a brief pause, Lucas glanced at Esther, wondering what in the world was going through her head at the sight of him in his mother’s kitchen.

  “They know each other,” Lizzy said. “She was at our place a few days ago when Luke was helping Jerry with the farm.”

  “Ah,” Maam said, then tilted her head to look at Lucas. The expression was not a new one to him. His mother was silently saying that they would discuss this later. For some reason, it made Luke want to hug his maam good and tight.

  “Hello,” he said, knowing Maam was reading every little minute expression on his face.

  “Hiya,” Esther replied, not quite looking at him now, her cheeks still stained with a blush.

  “And I know I’m supposed to be at home,” Lizzy said. “Esther’s been with me today, but she had to run some errands, and I promised her that I would nap all afternoon if I could come with her in the buggy. I’m just so bored sitting on that couch. I’ve knitted enough booties for quadruplets!”

  “Errands?” Lucas asked, dying for the chance to speak directly to Esther.

  She nodded. “I needed to make some deliveries.”

  “Your soap,” he said, feeling something drop in his stomach. This was Esther’s life, though, her decisions. Why should he feel disappointed that she was determined to disobey the Ordnung?

  Because he cared about her—deeply. That was why. Even if it couldn’t be with him, he wanted her to be happy beyond her wildest dreams.

  “No,” she replied. “Well, yes and no. I didn’t deliver soap to the store where I sell them, but I did bring some for you, Lydia.” She reached into a pocket and pulled out a single bar of soap, walking toward his mother. “I know this is your favorite.”

  Maam took the soap and held it to her nose. “Honeysuckle,” she said, then closed her eyes and took in another breath. “You have such a Gott-given talent, Esther.”

  Esther smiled and dipped her gaze modestly. “Thank you very much. I’ve decided to concentrate on the scents found around Honey Brook. We have so many flowers and trees and berries and other natural, airy scents that I’ll never have to look for inspiration past my own backyard.”

  She paused; then her eyes slid up to meet Lucas’s. His heart was beating so hard inside his rib cage that he was sure everyone in the room could hear it.

  “I hope they sell well; the money helps my family,” Esther added, smiling at something in the middle distance. “But I told my cousin at Yoder’s that I won’t be making as much for her as she’d hoped. I’m pretty busy elsewhere these days. I’m tutoring my little sister in memorizing one Bible verse a day, I’m helping Louisa with the wedding music now—I’m even singing a solo with the choir.”

  When she paused and tipped her chin, Lucas couldn’t begin to read the expression on her face, but for some reason, it seemed that announcing she was singing in the choir was a very proud moment for her—but in the humblest of ways.

  “Between my other chores and keeping Miss Lizzy off her feet,” Esther continued brightly, “my days are fuller than ever.”

  “And your sister’s wedding’s coming up,” Maam said before Lucas could even open his mouth. “I heard you made her dress.”

  “Jah.” Esther nodded, then began running a thumb around the inside of her palm. “But just this morning, I decided to cut it up into three aprons.”

  “Why?” Lucas said, unable to stop himself…knowing how challenging it had been for her to make her sister’s dress in the first place.

  “I decided to let Sarah wear my wedding dress.”

  “The purple one?” his mother said. Lucas heard the hitch in her voice and realized that of course Maam knew about Esther’s purple dress, for she’d made it to marry Jacob. “I love that dress,” Maam added.

  “So do I.” Esther put her lips together and smiled. “Not long ago, I looked through the scrapbook that our wonderful, thoughtful church members made for me after Jacob died, and…it gave me peace. Around the same time,” she added with a slight glance over at Lucas, “a very good friend asked me why I didn’t let someone else wear that dress I loved so much. I had no good answer then, but I know now that I was saving it for my little sister.”

  The room felt thick with warmth and unspoken words. Lucas had so much to say to her, but before he could move, his mother reached out and gave Esther a big hug. Seeing the two women he cared for most in the world share a tender moment filled Lucas’s heart with a peace he’d never known.

  Maam whispered something in Esther’s ear before letting her go.

  “Jah,” Esther whispered. “I will.”

  “Can I get some of that bread?” Lizzy said, breaking the stillness of the room.

  “Chunky peanut butter and strawberry jam?” his mother asked.

  “Yum!” Lizzy’s eyes brightened as she rubbed her pregnant belly. “This little one’s been craving peanut butter all morning.”

  As the four of them gathered around the table, passing slices of smothered bread and glasses of fresh milk, Lucas maneuvered himself to sit at Esther’s side. He knew it was self-inflicted torture, but he needed to be near her.

  The conversation was happy and lively, as if no time had passed since he’d been away. Over and over, Lucas offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving for being a part of this precious moment.

  “Do you mind if I go upstairs and lie down?” Lizzy asked after her second sandwich.

  “Of course,” his mother said. “You can have the big bed; the window is open and you’ll have a nice breeze.”

  “I can take you home, Lizzy.”

  At Esther’s suggestion, something reached in and grabbed Lucas’s heart. He was not ready for the moment to end.

  “Nay, nay,” Lizzy replied. “I just need a few minutes.”

  “Another sandwich for you? Cup of tea?” his mother asked Esther, clearly wanting her to feel comfortable. Lucas longed to squeeze his mother for the kind gesture.

  “I’d love one, but I’ll get it,” Esther said, walking to the stove. After filling the kettle with water, she sparked up the gas burner, adjusting the flame. Lucas loved watching her fuss around the kitchen where he’d grown up. She must’ve felt at h
ome there when she’d been engaged to his brother.

  Seeing her now filled his heart with a frustrating pang of hope. Why must he keep hoping when he’d been the one to tell her it was over?

  The thought barely had time to settle in his mind when the front door swung open, letting in an icy cold breeze. It had been ten years, but Lucas knew the man in an instant.

  He waited a beat, hoping for a flash of inspiration. When none came, he simply said, “Hello, Father.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  After their final goodbye, there hadn’t been a notion in Esther’s mind that Lucas would ever chance a visit home, not after what had happened at Jeremiah’s and then ending their entire relationship because of it.

  Yet, there he stood, looking as comfortable and welcomed as anyone. Once the initial shock had passed, Esther, too, began to feel at home. The entire Brenneman family had been warm and supportive of her, even after Jacob went to live in heaven.

  Nothing, however, could have prepared Esther to see Luke’s father burst into the room where she, Lucas, and Lydia stood.

  “Hello, Father.”

  Ephraim Brenneman didn’t move from his place in the doorway, but his eyes flashed from his son to his wife, then back again. Esther tried her best to stay small and invisible at the far end of the kitchen.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Now, Ephraim,” Lydia Brenneman said. “Everything’s okay.”

  Esther observed Ephraim’s jaw muscle clench. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, ignoring his wife and pointing directly at Lucas. “You don’t belong in this house.”

  Esther couldn’t help but notice the tiny way Lucas flinched back. His father’s words had hurt him.

  “Ephraim.” Lydia put a hand over her husband’s pointing finger and eased his extended arm down to his side. “Please don’t speak to him that way. You don’t understand.”

  “I understand everything.”

  “She didn’t invite me,” Lucas said. “She didn’t even know I live and work here.”

  Ephraim’s eyebrows arched. “Here?”

  Lucas nodded. “At the medical clinic in town.”

  Ephraim frowned and ran his wrist along his forehead. “That so? For how long?”

  “Since April,” Maam replied. “Our…our boy has been this close to us since the spring. He was here at Eastertime—”

  “Lydia, you know the rules.”

  “Why do rules matter right this very second?”

  “It’s okay, Maam,” Lucas said, reaching for his hat. “I don’t want to bring trouble to the family.”

  His father exhaled a joyless chuckle from his throat. “Trouble.”

  Esther’s heart broke at the sarcastic remark aimed at Luke. If she’d been a different type of person, she might’ve scolded the older man for being so unkind, that he should forgive Lucas and let him come home, to allow them all to move forward with their lives as if nothing bad had happened all those years ago.

  The pain in Lucas’s eyes made her stomach roll with bile.

  “Ephraim Brenneman,” Lydia said. “For five minutes, you are to climb off your high horse and listen to your son.” When she inhaled, Esther heard her breath quake. “If this is the only chance we get with him, I will not have you scaring him off.”

  When she’d been engaged to Jacob, Esther had been at the Brennemans’ house practically every day. But never, ever had she heard Lydia—or any other wife in their community—speak with such demanding force to her husband.

  But she was so grateful she had.

  “Sit down, love,” Lydia continued, her tone smooth and calm. “Would you like your coffee now? Sweet cream with a dash of cinnamon?”

  For a moment, Ephraim didn’t move, just stood with pursed lips. Finally, he let out some kind of grumble from his chest. “Yes, thank you.”

  Lydia did not move toward the kitchen, however, but took her husband by the shoulders and guided him to sit down at the table. Next, she took Lucas by one arm and sat him across from his father. Lydia sat herself in the chair between them. “Tell us about your job, Luke.”

  After a quiet moment, she glanced at her husband. Esther couldn’t see the look she gave him, but Ephraim suddenly adjusted his position in his chair and cleared his throat. “Er, yes, what is your job? Do you work with Frank McDonald?”

  Lucas leaned forward. “You know Frank?”

  “Jah.” His father nodded. “Sprained my wrist last year. The good doc fixed me up quite nice.”

  Esther watched Lucas closely, knowing exactly what must’ve been running through his mind… If Ephraim Brenneman had been so against English medical help when his son was dying from cancer, why would he see a proper doctor for a sprained wrist?

  Lucas didn’t reply, however, making all the muscles in Esther’s body clench for his sake. She was dying to be at his side, wanted him to know she was there, to hold his hand and tell him she loved him, wishing there was a way she could take his painful confusion away.

  “You never wrote back.”

  The words made Esther blink as she watched Luke stare across the table at his mother.

  “Not once,” he continued. “Not even at the beginning when I was young and scared. Not once did you write.”

  Lydia turned her body to him. “I… Luke, I had no idea where you were.”

  “Every single letter had a return address on it.”

  Lydia stared blankly at him until, in a weak voice, she finally asked, “What letters?”

  The question seemed to hang in the air; then all eyes in the room turned to the person at the head of the table.

  “Ephraim.” Lydia’s voice was low. “What did you do?”

  Her husband sat up straight and put his palms flat on the table. “I was protecting this fam—”

  “Ephraim.” Her voice was louder.

  After a long silence, Ephraim’s shoulders seemed to slump. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  This time, Esther saw with her own eyes the withering glance Lydia sent her husband. It actually made her afraid of the petite, not-so-submissive woman. When the glare had served its purpose, his maam turned to Lucas. “How many letters?”

  “Until last year, at least one every month,” he replied. “Dozens.”

  “You wrote to me every…?”

  Lucas swallowed, and from the way his ears were turning pink, Esther knew he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. Even with his mother.

  For perhaps the last time, Esther whispered a prayer on behalf of Lucas. Would the Lord please comfort him and protect his heart? Would this experience somehow be a good one for him? Could he please find peace and a way to get everything his heart desired? Lucas was the best person she’d ever known, and somehow, someway, he deserved all of heaven’s blessings.

  Lydia scooted her chair over so she could wrap her arms around Lucas, pressing a cheek against her son’s chest. Esther watched as Lucas closed his eyes, lines shooting out their corners as he pinched them closed tightly. Then slowly, Ephraim pushed his chair back and stood, moving toward the hugging pair.

  Esther jumped and shrieked as the teakettle suddenly let out a sharp whistle.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Maam flinched inside Lucas’s arms at the loud sound. He’d felt so safe to be with her again that he regretted loosening his grip for even a second, fearing this whole day would turn out to be a dream.

  Then he noticed Esther standing in the corner of the kitchen, her face as white as a hospital bedsheet. Somehow, since his father had shown up, he’d forgotten she was there. She was working fast to remove the kettle from the heat, silencing the whistle and shutting off the flame.

  “I’m s-sorry,” she whispered, behaving like she was mortally embarrassed.

  “Es,” he couldn’t
help saying.

  “Esther,” his mother uttered, right over his voice. Perhaps that was a good thing—no need to complicate the situation with their history.

  Still, he couldn’t stop from walking over to her. Truly, she looked like she was on the verge of fainting. “Are you okay?” he said in a low voice as he bent down to her.

  She blinked up at him; those blue eyes still made his heart gallop like a racing horse. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  He didn’t know how to reply, for if he couldn’t sweep her into his arms he was otherwise paralyzed. Before he could dip his face closer to her, longing to brush his lips across hers, she rushed out of the house.

  He was still staring at the back of the door when he heard the sound of her horse and buggy leaving at full speed.

  “Lucas.”

  After hearing his name again, he swallowed hard, blinking himself back to the present. Both parents stared at him, his mother wringing her hands in distress.

  “Lucas,” she repeated. “What’s going on?”

  If he was smart, he would’ve said nothing was going on and made an excuse as to why he’d reacted to Esther Miller like that—some kind of repressed memory from his childhood.

  But hadn’t there been enough lies?

  “I’m in love with her,” he said. Then he exhaled a shaky laugh under his breath at how easy it was to say the words, yet his voice had never felt more solid. “We were seeing each other for almost two months, and I think she’s the most wonderful person on Gott’s green earth.”

  “Oh, Luke.” Maam sighed. “What am I going to tell Mary Miller?”

  “Nothing.” Lucas almost laughed again, but gloomily. “We know it’s impossible, so it ended.”

  “Impossible?” Maam echoed.

  “Jah.” Lucas massaged the heel of his hand into his forehead. “I’d marry her if I could,” he added, unable to hold anything back, because at this point, why shouldn’t he tell them everything?

  “Listen, I don’t know exactly how it would work, but I want to be part of the family again. I want to help you”—he glanced at his father—“with the mill and farm, and Jerry with his. I want the lifestyle I used to have, the one that always fit me best.” Finally, when his breath was about to fail him, he pushed out the absolute truth. “I want to come home.”