by Kelly Long
Matthew watched Abner hand the auld man a white envelope, which obviously contained a gift of money of some sort. It seemed a strange thing to do—normally, an Amisch bishop performed his duties without payment. Perhaps Tabitha was merely being generous.
Bishop Kore nodded his thanks, then gestured toward another finely crafted door in his living room. “Kumme. I would be the first to congratulate the young couple with a gift.”
“Perhaps something to soothe your impatience?” Matthew whispered to Tabitha.
“I’m not impatient, you lout!” she hissed, then immediately looked appalled at what she’d said.
He had to struggle not to laugh. If nothing else, his new frau had a fiery temper, and he wondered idly if she displayed such spirit in front of her fater.
* * *
Tabitha felt her hands shake a bit and she clasped them before her as she followed Bishop Kore into his small study. For whatever reason, Matthew King—der mann—her husband, rattled her in a way that she did not appreciate or understand. And she found herself wondering at the way he took her ill humor in stride—he didn’t appear offended, but rather seemed to be enj oying himself when she felt ready to box his ears.
She drew her attention back to the moment as they approached Bishop Kore’s cluttered desk. Papers were stuck willy-nilly in drawers, while others were stacked here and there in haphazard piles; yet the bishop seemed to know exactly what he was looking for under the mess. He slid out a rock, about the breadth of his hand, and held it out to her.
“Here it is. I found it at the top of the falls one day. I nearly fell over trying to reach it, but Derr Herr righted my footing.”
Tabitha took the rock, thinking it to be simply another odd notion of the bishop, but then she looked closer at its smooth surface.
“Now, what do you see?” Bishop Kore asked softly.
She felt Matthew lean over her shoulder as she tried to concentrate. “I—I see shells. Seashells. Or the imprints of shells at least, somehow embedded into the rock.”
“Fossils,” Matthew said, reaching down to gently stroke one of the impressions with a lean finger. “Proof of the biblical flood—to find seashell fossils at the top of so high a mountain.”
“Aha!” The bishop slapped his thigh, startling Tabitha with the abrupt sound; she took a step backward and bumped unceremoniously into her new husband’s strong body. It was like hitting an oak tree at full tilt, and she tried to ignore the sensation.
“So what do—fossils—have to do with our marriage?” she asked somewhat irritably.
“They don’t belong here, kind, yet they do.” Bishop Kore smiled at her, but she couldn’t make any sense of the auld man’s words.
“Is it a riddle?” Matthew asked with obvious interest.
“Jah, but not one to be solved with ease. Gott must reveal the answer to each of you, much like a dumped gelatin mold—I prefer green myself.”
Tabitha handed the rock to Matthew and nodded her thanks to the bishop. She had one more phase of her mail-order-groom plan to complete and she could ill afford to waste any more time. “We will take our leave now,” she said in a firm voice, expecting, for some reason, that Matthew might contradict her. But her new husband merely shook the bishop’s hand, then gently took her arm as they left, with Abner leading the way.
* * *
Abner was more than grateful for the cup of coffee Anke poured for him after he’d seen Tabitha and her new husband back to the Stolfus cabin.
“She took him to her room,” Anke confided in nervous tones.
Abner waved off her concern with a slightly weary hand. “Just as I expected. The maedel knows what she wants and will not rest until she has it.”
“I offered her the wedding supper, but she said it would have to be kept warm for a bit.”
Abner frowned, not liking to see Anke upset, but he also knew that Tabitha would take no risk of a possible annulment either. He knew exactly why she’d led Matthew King to her room.
“Well,” he said after an awkward moment. “Why not let me sample some of yer supper? I’m sure it’s gut, and I be more than hungry.” He shifted on the kitchen bench, admitting to one hunger but denying another. Anke’s movements from stove to table were brisk and confident, though her pretty face still looked worried, and he longed to ease her mind.
Chapter Four
As she and Matthew stood in the middle of her bedroom, Tabitha had to resist the urge to bite her bottom lip—an auld habit that she’d tried to break but that still presented itself when she was highly nervous. I have no reason to be nervous, she thought, as cool practicality took over her mind once more. I understand what happens in the marriage bed, and once our union is consummated, my choice of a husband will be secure.
She gave a swift look at Matthew and swallowed before lifting her chin. “Would you turn around, sei se gut?”
He gave her a quizzical glance. “Why?”
She felt herself flush. “So that I may . . . remove my dress. Or better yet, I shall geh behind the dressing screen.” Relieved, she started across the hardwood floor, but her new husband stepped in her path.
She looked up into his green eyes and struggled to match their steady gaze. “You would consummate the marriage before we’ve even talked together?” he asked softly.
Tabitha stiffened her resolve. I would consummate this marriage before my fater returns, but I cannot tell you that.... “I would. Talking is something we will have a lifetime to do.”
“We will. That’s true.” He reached a lean finger to the curve of her cheek and she felt herself flush, startled that such a simple touch could make her feel as if she was being drenched with warm honey.
But despite this secret pleasure, she stepped away from him and quickly sidled past to reach the relative safety of the dressing screen. Once there, she began to automatically take the pins from her dress and apron, ignoring the sudden, frantic beating of her heart.
* * *
Matthew wandered idly about the large room, trying to ignore the faint rustling of clothing that came to him from behind the dressing screen. He stopped at the huge sleigh bed and reached down to trail the back of his hand across the flimsy batiste shift that lay waiting on the thick, rose-patterned quilt. Things were going way too fast, but he’d signed on for this—quite literally at that.
“Would you mind passing me my shift?” Tabitha asked, and he could almost hear the steel in her tone.
He turned and handed the thin shift over the top of the screen, trying to ignore the sudden rush of images that invaded his mind. She will be lovely, beyond compare perhaps, but I don’t love her . . . not yet anyway . . . not ever maybe. I will have the wood as my mistress, and that will be enough. . . . He ignored the dart of doubt that passed through his mind, then turned and caught his breath as Tabitha emerged from behind the screen.
The late-afternoon sunshine illuminated the length and color of her shining hair, while her beautiful eyes were wide with determination. The shift did more to reveal than conceal the perfection of her high breasts, slim waist, and gently curved belly and hips. In truth, he’d never seen anyone so beautiful, but he took an automatic step backward, as if to avoid the spell of her loveliness.
If she noticed his movement, she ignored it completely and strode with her head lifted and her hair brushing the curved outline of her bottom, directly to her bed. She stepped with spritelike grace on a footstool to reach the fluffy mattress, and Matthew found himself helplessly following the flow of her body even as she lay down on her back with visible tension. He saw that she steeled herself to be still.
“I’m ready,” she gritted out. “You may proceed and get this over with.”
He stared down at her; her forced words started a pounding behind his eyes. He hadn’t lived a chaste life, but never had a woman so blatantly offered herself to him. He stepped to the edge of the bed and reached to splay his hand gently across her slender belly. Then he looked deep into the twin pools of her sapphire-bl
ue eyes. “Get this over with?” he asked hoarsely. “Are you so sure, then, that you are a mere sacrifice to be had once and done?”
He watched her frown. Clearly, she hadn’t thought about all of the other nachts when he might now choose to exercise his bedding rights.... He lifted his hand and almost idly trailed a finger from her pulsing throat to the top curve of her breast. It would be so easy to accept what she readily offered, but something held him back. He wasn’t ready yet to be a mail-order groom in both truth and deed....
* * *
Tabitha resisted the urge to squeeze shut her eyes and watched him touch her, his green gaze intent. She almost jumped when he sat down on the bed next to her. The strong length of his leg pressed against her hip, and she felt unaccountably hot at this touch. She cleared her throat and her voice come out strangely high and breathy.
“Kumme,” she said with deliberate, womanly softness. “Let us finalize our vows.”
She watched him slowly shake his head and knew a moment of deep frustration. If he would not consummate the marriage, she had not completely succeeded in marrying the man of her choosing. But she recognized determination when she saw it, and Matthew King was not so ruled by desire that he forgot his principles, evidently.
She blew out a sharp breath, then slapped an irritated hand on the soft pile of quilts beneath her. “Am I not attractive enough?” she asked, her voice verging on sarcasm. But then she wondered if perhaps he truly did not find her pleasing, and she felt shaken.
“Attractive?” He gave a rueful laugh and lifted one of her golden curls to his mouth, then lowered her hair quickly. “In truth, I have never seen anyone so lovely.”
Mollified, she nonetheless glared at him. “Then why do you wait?”
“I wait—because I will not make love to you without knowing you first.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she burst out, and he smiled.
“Don’t fear, mei frau. To the rest of the world we will act as if we are husband and wife. I don’t want to bring you shame, but I will sleep on the floor and you in the bed, and we will . . . talk.”
“Talk?” she snapped. “A mail-order groom is supposed to—”
“Ach, jah, tell me what a mail-order groom is supposed to do?” he asked wryly. “To my knowledge, I may be the first of my kind and can therefore make up my own rules.”
Tabitha huffed at his reply. I make the rules, she thought, but then spoke sweetly. “Very well, but no one outside this room may know. And no one must know about the ad or that you’re a mail-order groom.”
“I give you my word.” He rose from the bed and offered her a hand up.
She was conscious of his eyes upon her and immediately began to scheme how she might satisfy his narrisch idea of getting to know each other....
Chapter Five
As Matthew followed Tabitha down the curved staircase, his mind and focus were torn in two different directions—a fascination with the patina of the wood of the bannister beneath his hand and the painful realization that he had just passed up the opportunity of bedding his wife. In the end, though, it was the look on auld Abner’s face, from where he stood at the bottom of the staircase, that snapped him out of his deliberations.
If possible, Aber appeared more dour than usual, and Matthew watched as the aulder man took Tabitha’s hand and paused to search her face. Probably looking for some sign of abuse on my part, Matthew thought.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and effectively inserted himself between Tabitha and her guardian, sliding an arm around her tiny waist. “Everything is right as rain, is it not, my sweet?”
He watched as Tabitha turned to look up at him with a warm smile on her pink mouth. “Jah, most certainly.”
He couldn’t help giving her a wry glance and then immediately banished it by bending to brush her lips with a brief kiss. She wanted to resist; he felt this instinctively in the sudden tension of her back, but then he lifted his head and gave Abner a sunny smile.
The other man let out a breath of palpable frustration, but whatever he had been going to say was lost in the moment as the front door was thrust open from the outside. A booming voice echoed from the vaulted wooden ceiling of the hall and a large man with a walking stick limped inside. A small bulldog gamboled about his legs and then ran toward Abner, who gruffly put out a hand to the barking creature.
Matthew watched in silence as Tabitha broke from his hold and went to the other Amisch man.
“Ach, Da . . . you’re home!”
* * *
Tabitha knew a sudden pounding in her heart as she lightly embraced her fater. This was the moment she had been waiting for, and it was with not a little trepidation that she hastened her fater inside and scooped up Ralph, the bulldog puppy, to snuggle him against her chest.
“Abner,” her fater said, shaking her guardian’s outstretched hand. “We found a fine stand of red oak.”
“That’s gut, John.”
“And who is this?” Her fater gestured to Matthew.
Tabitha held her breath, unsure of how this all-important meeting would geh. She hurried to Matthew’s side. Her new mann was a gut head taller than her daed, but her fater was bulkier.
“Fater, sei se gut, I’d like to introduce Matthew King.” She put down the dog and gestured to the tall man beside her.
“Matt, nice to know you, and given the fact that my dochder has allowed you within ten feet of her, I’d say you’re someone special.”
“Jah, Da.” Tabitha lifted her chin. “Matthew is my husband. We married today.”
She watched her fater’s blue eyes widen in shock, then fill unexpectedly with tears. “Your . . . husband? Tabby, is it true?” He caught her hands and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Ach, what am I doing? Matt—at long last. A sohn!” He widened his arms to embrace Matthew as well.
Tabitha told herself she was pleased with how well her fater had received the news, but something rankled still the same. A sohn at last. . . . A sohn . . . Is this why my da has been so anxious to marry me off ? To have a sohn, a sohn to inherit the mill and run it as he sees fit . . . with no thought to my own knowledge of timber or business. . . . It was ridiculous, but somehow, at that moment, she felt jealous of her own husband.
* * *
Matthew had seen the injured look Tabitha had quickly masked, and he knew that, in some way, her fater, in his jubilation, had wounded her. Matthew told himself that he could not begin to plumb the depths of a woman’s mind, and Tabitha Stolfus, nee, King was more of a woman than most. Still, it bothered him, and he realized he’d been too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice that the small group that had seated themselves around the wedding supper table had grown rather silent.
He looked up, feeling himself flush, and addressed his new fater-in-law. “I’m sorry, sir. What was that?”
Herr Stolfus waved a fork at him. “I asked you how you and my dochder first met.”
Matthew knew he could ill afford to bungle his response, and the sudden wariness in his wife’s sapphire-blue eyes added to the pressure.
“We’ve grown our relationship through letters, sir.”
“Letters? Jah. . . .” Herr Stolfus took a massive bite of whipped potatoes. “But the first time you laid eyes on each other, buwe? When was that?”
Abner cleared his throat, and Matthew shot him a quick glance. Surely Tabitha’s guardian would not betray the truth about the ad.
“It wuz me, John, that first introduced them. In the woods it wuz,” Abner said finally.
Matthew held his breath, and then John Stolfus nodded. “A happy meeting, I take it?”
“Jah,” Abner muttered.
Apparently, it was enough of an answer to content his new fater-in-law, and Matthew drew a relieved sigh; he saw that his young wife, sitting opposite him at the table, clearly felt the same relief. Then Anke bustled in with another platter of roast beef, and the talk drifted to the red oak that had been found.
“Do you know lumber, buwe?” H
err Stolfus asked.
Matthew shrugged casually. “A bit about furniture making and the like.” It was true, technically. I don’t know as much about woodworking as I want . . . After all, that’s why I’m here. Still, the half-truth tasted bitter now for some reason, but he shook off the thought.
“Well, I say, sohn, that the best way to learn is on the job! Right, Abner?”
“Sure, John.”
“So, Matt, you’ll accompany the buwes on the logging trip to get the red oak. I’ll have them head out in the next day or two. Gives you only a bit of time for a honeymoon, eh, Tabby? That’s what the Englischers call it, don’t they?”
Matthew watched as Tabitha turned a serene face to her fater. “They do indeed. But while mei mann is gone, would you mind if Abner took me up to Aenti Fern’s cabin? I might stay with her for a bit, and Abner can have a break.” She glanced across the table. “But I suppose it’s you, Matthew, who must now permit me to go. . . .”
“Me?” he asked, confused.
“Jah, you are my husband. And in the ways of our community, a wife must gain permission from her mann to do such a thing as be away from home and hearth for such a time.”
Home and hearth, my foot. The little minx is plotting, but I suppose it’s her affair. . . . “Jah, then by all means geh. Is Aenti Fern your sister, sir?” He turned to his host.
“Hmm? Nee, nee, buwe. Aenti Fern is the healer in these parts. A strange creature, but Tabby has always taken to her.”
“I see. Well then, mei frau, enjoy yourself, sei se gut.”
“Ach, danki, Matthew. I know I shall.”
She smiled at him, and he blinked. She is definitely up to something. . . .
Chapter Six
“So, yer fater bids me to attend ya, on yer wedding nacht, mind.... and what else am I ta do but prepare ya for a nacht with a man ya know nuthin’ about?” Anke drew the brush through Tabitha’s long hair and clucked nervously.
