An Amish Courtship on Ice Mountain

by Kelly Long

  Still, May smiled down at her as if satisfied. “Your voice will improve; the vocal cords have not been permanently damaged.”

  Martha nodded, but she was still afraid that she might never regain her voice and, worse still, she had no recollection of what Judah might have done to her once she’d become unconscious. As if reading her thoughts, May spoke softly.

  “Did he rape you?”

  Martha felt her eyes widen, and she choked on a hoarse breath. “I—I don’t—”

  May nodded. “Will you say his name? The one who did this to you . . . ?”

  Will I say his name? Will I name Judah as the sick man he is even while he courts the bishop’s favor—and they both think I’m a hex . . . Will I say his name when it will cut Joel to the quick and wound his family forever?

  Tears fell unbidden down her cheeks, and May gently wiped them away. “We will talk again later. But Joel waits to see you. He carried you here.”

  Martha wet her lips and nodded briefly. Part of her wanted to push Joel away and never see him again, but only because she wanted to keep him safe. Yet she knew that she had to look at least once more into his dark blue eyes . . .

  “Martha?”

  She turned her head to stare at him as he quietly entered the room. He wore no hat or coat, and his long burgundy sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. As he neared the bed and dropped to his knees beside her, she saw a dark brown stubble on his jaw that made him look all the more appealing.

  “Don’t try to talk,” he said soothingly. She liked the sound of his voice and knew it to be one that might easily calm a child. He would make a gut fater . . . She blinked back fresh tears at the thought and felt him reach for her right hand atop the bed quilts. She squeezed his strong fingers and longed to tell him how much she loved him.

  Then, suddenly, she saw his body tense, and his facial features appeared stricken, as if he’d seen some ghostly apparition. She knew he was having a vision of some sort, and she prayed as she waited and watched the color drain from his face.

  * * *

  Joel tried to focus on Martha’s face and then her eyes but the world seemed to slip away from him in a dissolving rush.I don’t want this—this second sight. He cried out the words in a silent scream. But then there was Judah, skinning a wolf, setting traps for innocents, and laying cruel hands on Martha’s throat. He felt the pressure in his lungs, the gasping for air only to know that no relief was coming. He saw his bruder loom over Martha, his gaze lewd and vile, but then Judah turned and ran out into the concealment of the nacht . . .

  Joel came back to himself, his breathing forced and labored as he stared into Martha’s worried eyes.

  “Joel?” she questioned tentatively.

  “Jah.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  He heard the effort it took for her to get the words out, and he nodded while pressing her hand. “Jah . . . I’m going to kill Judah.”

  * * *

  Martha saw the resolute intent in Joel’s eyes. She wanted to say something, to tell him nee, but then May bustled into the room with a wooden tray. She sat down on the edge of the bed opposite Joel, and Martha reluctantly accepted the spoonfuls of honeyed tea that May began to give her.

  “So it’s murder you’re speaking of, Joel Umble? Murder, and you an Amish man?” May’s voice was soft, but her message was pointed.

  Martha watched Joel struggle with his anger, but then he lifted his head, and there was a light in his blue eyes. He smiled at her; a tender smile that made her shift her legs restlessly beneath the quilts.

  “Judah is gone for three days checking his traps,” Joel began.

  Martha nodded.

  “And there is one way that I might protect you other than laying hands on my bruder.” He let his clever fingers play along the inside of her wrist, seeming to ignore May’s presence. “I’m already on both knees, Martha Yoder. Will you marry me?”

  “Well,” May said dryly, clattering the spoon in the teacup. “I think that’s my cue to leave you two alone.”

  Martha turned her head to watch May leave the small room and then looked back at Joel. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” she whispered, then shrugged helplessly. “My family . . .”

  “. . . will become my family too.” He bent to press his lips against the pulse point in her wrist.

  “And . . . Judah?”

  He lifted his dark head and stared at her. “Judah is in league, no doubt, with Bishop Loftus, who would never consent to marry us. But you know that the bishop must recognize an Englisch writ of marriage and has done so for at least a few couples in the past. We will geh into Coudersport and wed. Judah will, I believe, leave the area once I’ve had words with him—especially when he realizes that you and I are sealed in marriage.”

  She swept her lashes downward, wondering what it would be to have Joel Umble as a husband. And yet there are so many reasons why it might not work—my poverty, the drain my family will be on body and soul, our differences in schooling . . . She knew she should protest his plan, but a small part of her heart, a kindled flame, wanted very badly to try.

  “Martha—” He called her back to the moment with gentle tones, and she nodded.

  “Jah, Joel. I’ll marry you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Joel had arranged for May to watch over both Martha’s family and his own mother for one day and nacht. He’d spent half the morning trying to be casual with his mamm about his trip to Coudersport. He didn’t want to lie to her but knew that she’d tell Judah if she discovered his intended marriage—and if Judah should return early from checking traps.

  “They’re experimenting now, Mamm, with a nutrient, selenium, to aid in the diet of ewes about to give birth. I’d like to lay my hands on some, if the research is right.”

  “Ach, Joel, always reading, you are! Why not wait until Judah returns? You know how I hate to be alone.”

  “I understand,” he’d said soothingly. “But May the healer is coming to visit, and spring is almost upon us, and you know that means lambing season.”

  He’d finally persuaded her, then gathered a few things in a satchel, along with some items from Sol Kauffman’s store, and headed to Martha’s. He had marrying on his mind, but not before he spoke to Martha’s fater. It was not always customary that the potential groom ask for the fater’s permission to marry, but Joel felt in his spirit that it was the right thing to do and knew also that Martha’s family would keep their silence until the marriage had been accomplished.

  He knocked on the cabin’s door and was not surprised when Martha opened it, though the sight of the black kerchief round her neck brought back a rushing surge of anger.

  “Are you able to be up?” he asked low. “I’m not sure we shouldn’t wait another day to hike—”

  “Joel, I’m all right.”

  He noted that her voice was stronger, and he stepped closer to her, longing to kiss her once and hard. But Esther Yoder’s delicate laugh brought him to his senses.

  He had to smile as Martha widened the door and her grossmuder greeted him with kindness. “Ach, so it’s the strong man again. Kumme for my girlie, have you?”

  Joel glanced at Martha, unsure of what she might have told her grossmuder, but the auld woman laughed again. “I’ll wager it’s my son-in-law yer wantin’ to talk with. He’s in the other room, as if ya don’t already know.” There was a subtle play in the woman’s words that caught at Joel’s senses and made his heart beat fast. What do I know? About the future, the past? What will Chet Yoder say when I ask him for his dochder ? Her hand—her life? Am I ready for—

  “What can we do fer ya, buwe?”

  Somehow, Joel had walked into the bedroom and now stood staring down into eyes that had seen much pain but still shone with something to give. Joel didn’t feel right towering over his potential fater-in-law so he dropped easily to the floor to sit beside the bed. Martha’s mamm appeared to be sleeping, and he blew out a quick breath before beginning
the words he’d rehearsed in the back of his mind—but Chet forestalled him with a raised, rugged hand.

  “Tell me why it is, buwe, that the muskrats know to build their domes thicker when a bad winter’s comin’?”

  Joel blinked but the aulder man went on inexorably. “Tell me if the panther still roams these woods? Why is a mother bear so fierce in protecting her cubs? Why does the raven not flee the ice? Tell me what you know about logging and the river that runs to the sea.” Chet stopped suddenly for breath, and the quietness in the small room was palpable.

  Joel cleared his throat, feeling unaccountable tears in his eyes. “You know more than I ever will, sir. I understand what you are saying. Martha is part of this mountain, and the wild things that live here too. I will fiercely guard and protect her, Herr Yoder—you have my word on that—if . . . ach, if only you would allow her to become my wife.”

  “It is not our way for you ta be askin’ me . . . but I appreciate the favor, sohn. You have my blessings. Geh.” The conversation seemed to have cost the older man his strength, and Joel got to his feet, then turned to see Martha’s mamm holding him softly with her eyes. He crossed the room and bent to kiss her cheek, which was as soft as rose petals, despite her illness.

  “Geh with peace, Joel Umble,” she whispered.

  He smiled down at her. “It is a true pleasure to have another mamm in my life.”

  “And a sohn in mine.”

  He nodded, then looked to see Martha standing in the doorway. Her brown eyes were luminous, and he felt a surety in his soul that what they were about to do was right.

  * * *

  Martha wiggled her toes experimentally inside the new black stockings and found them to be delightfully warm. She glanced up at Joel from where she sat on the edge of her bed. He had begged for a few moments of privacy in her pantry room and had opened his satchel to produce the stockings and a new pair of black shoes.

  “Danki,” Martha said shyly. “But you don’t have to do things like this.” Then she met his gaze straight on. “I’m not going to marry you for—”

  “My money?” he finished, and she felt herself flush but kept her eyes steady.

  “Jah.”

  “Our money, Martha. The money and lands that I inherited from my earthly daed and the blessings from my Heavenly Fater—they are my pleasure to share.” He bent his long legs to stoop before her and put his hands on either side of her hips.

  She liked how his voice deepened as he seemed to savor the word “share.” It made her shiver with delight, and she waited, thinking he might kiss her. But instead he gently fingered the kerchief round her neck.

  “You need the shoes to hike down to the Ice Mine, but are you sure you can? How do you feel?”

  She shook her head slightly as his dark hair brushed her cheek and couldn’t think of anything much but his nearness. “I’m . . . fine.”

  “Ach, you are more than fine, Martha, and I would like to explore that point with you further, but the day is getting away from us.” He kissed her quickly on her nose and got to his feet. She sighed to herself, wishing for more attention from his mouth.

  They bid goodbye to her family and had started out when Joel glanced at the brief shawl she wore and shook his head. “Here, put my coat on.”

  “You’ll be cold,” she protested.

  “And you’re not?” There was an edge to his voice. “Look, Martha—I’d like to march you into Sol Kauffman’s and buy you a whole new wardrobe—coat included. But I don’t want to attract attention to us. So, we’ll shop in Coudersport, and in the meantime, you’ll wear this.” He slid his warm coat around her shoulders, and she couldn’t help but remember how he’d carried her shivering body home wrapped in black wool.

  “I’ll wear it, Joel Umble, but only if we might repeat—uh—” She floundered a bit, but he must have taken her meaning.

  He bent to caress her cheek with his mouth, snuggling his coat a bit closer around her shoulders. Then he trailed his lips behind her ear and languidly sucked on her right earlobe, making her feel the alternate heat of his mouth and then the rushing chill of the air. Her mouth burned for want of him, but he teased her senses.

  “How do you know how to do this—I mean, without ever having kissed before?” she asked on a partial gasp as his hands skimmed her waist, then moved a bit higher beneath the coat to press at her tingling belly.

  She felt him smile against her cheek; then he pulled back to hover a bare inch from her lips. “Instinct, perhaps . . .” he whispered.

  She almost raised on tiptoe to meet him but something caught at her awareness, and she turned round to see a young Amish buwe staring at them in fascination. “Joel.” She pulled from him and watched his blue eyes narrow, then focus on the lad.

  “Jared Mast, out and about, are you?” he asked after a moment.

  The ruddy-faced child nodded. “You two were kissin’ up a storm.”

  “So we were,” Joel agreed. “But it’s not to be widely known. So I’d ask you, man to man, if you’d protect a maedel’s privacy and not repeat what you’ve seen here.”

  “You mean not tell anybody?” The buwe’s pug nose tilted in suspicion, and Martha wet her lips, wondering if the child might run and tell the whole of the community.

  But Joel’s voice was steady and kind. “Jah, not tell for honor’s sake.”

  “Huh?”

  “To be honorable.”

  Jared shrugged his small shoulders. “Jah, I guess I won’t.”

  “Gut.” Martha felt Joel pull from her to geh and extend a hand to Jared. “Let’s shake on it then, like real men.”

  Jared opened his mouth in surprise, then held out his right hand. “I promise,” the little fellow said clearly.

  Martha watched Joel’s smile in profile and felt a renewed kindling in her heart. He’s not only beautiful, but he’s gut and kind too . . . Ach, Gott have mercy on us in what we do . . .

  Joel turned back to her as Jared scampered away through the melting snow.

  “He might say something in passing,” she murmured, still feeling a bit worried.

  “We’ll be married by then, Martha, even if he does. So let’s take the little one at his word and count on Derr Herr for peace. All right?” He bent and kissed her mouth, and all else was lost in the tumult of her heartbeat and the heat of his nearness.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The trek down the sodden path was treacherous with muddy, exposed roots and still-slippery patches of snow. However, Joel was happy when Martha pointed out the blooming lavender crocuses and yellow-throated snow flowers that persevered despite the cold and grew on the mountainside.

  “Beauty in difficult circumstances,” she murmured, indicating the flowers.

  “Can I say that you rival their beauty, and you’ve definitely grown in difficult times.”

  She smiled sideways at him from beneath the fringe of her weather-beaten bonnet and he felt his heart warm.

  “Do the boots fit all right?”

  “Like a fine lady’s glove.” She laughed. “How did you know my size?”

  He shrugged and squeezed her hand, not wanting to admit that he admired her slender feet and had studied her trim ankles on more than one occasion. “Just a guess.”

  She sighed and nodded. “Are you sure, Joel Umble, that this is a gut idea? You’ve barely had time to think since last nacht.”

  He stopped so suddenly that she nearly fell, but he caught her close. “Martha, are you having second thoughts?”

  She stretched to press her forehead against his.“Nee, Joel. You—you are someone I’ve wanted in my life—dreamed of more like . . . I can’t even begin to explain.”

  He kissed her with gentle playfulness on the nose and she had to smile, but then he began their downward hike once more, carefully holding her arm.

  Finally, he was able to lead her onto the solid macadam road. “I thought we could have a quick look inside the Ice Mine. You know they have the key over at the Sweden Haus.”
>
  “Ach,” Martha murmured. “That would be a blessing to start us on our way, I think. You know the ice is just beginning to form.”

  “Yep.” Joel took her arm and led her to the red-scalloped and green-trimmed cheer of the Sweden Haus. It was here, during the summer, that Gilbert Ellis, an Englischer, sold tickets to view the mine. He also ran a brisk trade at a gift shop adjacent to the rock walls of the mine. Gilbert was a gut friend to the Amish and also housed a few buggies and horses for them, should they want to do some shopping or run an errand to Coudersport.

  Joel led Martha to the front porch overhang and knocked on the bright white wood. Mr. Ellis opened the door with a smile and a twist of his oversized mustache. His wife was right behind him with a tray of cookies, and Joel laughingly agreed to stop in for a few minutes.

  “Our shoes are muddy,” Martha pointed out.

  “Oh, just give them a good wipe on the mat.” Mrs. Ellis smiled. “There’s so much water tracked in from the mine that it doesn’t make a bit of difference.”

  They wiped their feet and followed the kind couple inside.

  Joel leaned in close to Martha. “Will you talk a bit with Mrs. Ellis while I see about the key and a horse and buggy?”

  She gave a demure nod. He caught the fresh scent of her hair and wanted to stop and make love to her right there on the planked wooden floor. He half shook his head and followed Mr. Ellis into the next room, thinking seriously that a woman like Martha Yoder would change his life forever.

  * * *

  Martha accepted a butter cookie with gratitude. She hadn’t felt up to eating anything that morning, and the hike down had tired her some. She self-consciously adjusted the kerchief about her neck, then smiled as Mrs. Ellis set a tea tray between them, urging Martha to help herself. Then the older woman leaned back in a small rocking chair and smiled with kindness.

  “You’re courting, my dear?”

  Martha’s teacup rattled in its saucer, and she set it down on a nearby table. “Well,” she began shyly. “We’re to marry today in Coudersport.”