Marrying Matthew

by Kelly Long

  Abner wanted to groan. The gut bishop was a fine speaker at church meetings, but on a daily basis, a fella never quite knew how to respond to the auld man.

  “Ach, Abner, how are you on this evening of raining cows?”

  Abner glanced briefly at the clear, moonlit sky and sighed. “I be well, Bishop.”

  “Gut . . . gut . . . and the young married couple? They are as fine as flour, jah?”

  Abner resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. “Jah,” he rapped out clearly.

  “And you and Anke, you make your own cake, jah? Chocolate, I think, with peanut butter icing?”

  Abner stared into the auld man’s dark eyes. What was the bishop asking? How en der weldt could the man suspect anything about his feelings for Anke?

  “I’m sorry, Bishop Kore. I’m going home ta bed. . . .”

  “Of course you are, Abner. Don’t mind me. Don’t mind me a jot.”

  “I won’t,” Abner muttered as he turned away. The bishop had ruined a perfectly gut moonlight walk.

  * * *

  Anke had finished the supper dishes and, because she was bored, decided to make fudge. Assembling ingredients for both peanut butter and chocolate peanut butter flavors, she took her heavy-based pot to the sink pump for a bit of a rinse. Glancing out the window into the moonlit grass, she almost jumped as Abner stalked past.

  Without thinking, she hurried to the back porch door and thrust it open. “Abner?”

  She decided that she’d missed him and felt chagrined with herself for even trying to catch his attention in the first place.

  “Anke, is everything all right?”

  “Abner! Ya about scared me ta death.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said from the steps of the porch. “I thought I heard ya call.”

  “Well, I did at that. I’m makin’ some fudge, if ya’d like ta kumme in.” Anke’s toes curled in her sturdy shoes as she waited for his answer. She felt about as flighty as a maedel on her rumspringa.

  “Jah,” he said at last. “I’d like ta kumme in.”

  “Gut!” Anke took refuge from her boldness in being brisk.

  She swallowed as he passed by her in the doorway. He had the fresh, clean scent of pine soap about him, and his shirt had come unpinned at the collar so that she could see the lean line of his throat.

  She hastily dragged away her eyes, realizing that he stood with his hat in his hands, obviously waiting for something to do.

  “I’ll get the sugar and water going. Have a seat at the table, Abner.”

  He nodded and pulled out a chair, then sat down, the wood creaking under his big frame.

  Conscious that he was watching her, she beat around in her brain for something to say.

  “Nice nacht jah?” she asked, feeling silly at the simple comment. But it seemed to open up a wellspring of conversation in him.

  “Jah. Though I ran into Bishop Kore—that man can be narrisch. Chocolate cake and peanut butter icing . . . If he wasn’t such a wise leader—at church meetings—I don’t know what I’d think.”

  “Chocolate cake? Was he hungry?” Anke asked in confusion. She glanced up from the kettle to see that Abner’s handsome face was flushed.

  “Nee, not hungry,” he mumbled. “Forget I said anythin’.”

  Anke shrugged. “All right. I’ll forget it.”

  Chapter Nine

  Tabitha awoke from her nap in the boughs of the maple tree to discover with despair that the pink and purple fingers of dawn were stretching across the sky. She’d overslept! She quickly shimmied down from her perch and bent to stroke the faithful Huntress’s thick fur, then set off quickly through the dew-drenched forest. She needed to get to Matthew’s tent before he woke.

  * * *

  Matthew had slept rather fitfully during the night, trying to stay alert in case Asa or the others decided to catch him unawares. But toward dawn, he fell into an exhausted sleep and began to dream.

  He felt the tender touch of a woman’s hands along the sides of his cheeks and then down to the curve of his mouth. Her lips soon traced the path of her hands, intoxicating him with a dandelion wine sweetness that he had never known before with a woman. Her mouth found the line of his throat, and he dreamed that he raised his arms, the better to try to hold this intoxicating vision. . . .

  But then he woke, his body wet with sweat and his mind in a tumult over the very vivid dream he’d had. He heard the other men begin to wake and he soon joined them for breakfast, laying aside his thoughts in favor of the day’s work ahead.

  * * *

  Tabitha had slipped from her husband’s tent and made it back to the safety of the deeper forest before any of the men awoke. With Huntress beside her, she allowed herself to revisit the minutes in the tent with Matthew. In truth, she had expected it to be difficult to figure out how to kiss him. She’d never kissed any man save her fater, though many of her would-be betrothed suitors had tried . . . and failed. Nee, she had to admit that kissing Matthew had been pleasurable, and by the way his breathing had changed and he’d returned her kisses, she felt that he too had found enjoyment in her effort.

  Still, she was no closer to having the marriage consummated, and she had to admit that sneaking kisses along his strong throat still didn’t count for much—except perhaps that she was thinking about the consummation as being something more than a moment to get past.

  Now she waited as the camp of men woke up and, for some reason, felt led in her spirit to stay and watch the work of the harvesting of the red oak.

  * * *

  Matthew swung the double-bitted ax with ruthless precision. He knew that he was being tested by the men, who wanted to gauge his strength and knowledge of hard work. He didn’t mind; he knew he could swing an ax all day if necessary. As it was, he’d been working alone for close to two hours. Even Big Jim must’ve known that this was Matthew’s fight because he didn’t try to interfere.

  Matthew had just about finished when a storm came up without warning, roaring down the hollow with lethal force. Matthew was conscious of the ominous creaking of the tall tree he was felling and called for the men to run. Although he’d notched a proper hinge in the tree to control its fall, the wind meant that all bets were off as to where the tree would kumme down.

  Matthew had dropped the ax and started to run when he saw Big Jim lose his footing. He paused for an instant to help the other man to his feet, but just then a terrifying crack split the air. Matthew suddenly felt as though everything was moving in slow motion. He saw the old oak tree come crashing through the tree cover and get hung up for a moment in the limbs of another tree. Widow-maker . . . the words pulsed through his consciousness just as the oak broke free and started to finish its descent. He couldn’t seem to get his footing and he thought briefly of Tabitha, sure that he was about to die there in the forest. Then he felt something hit him hard in the chest, knocking him clear—a blur of gray fur and wide, sapphire-blue eyes played in racing images before him until a sickening thud echoed in his brain, and everything sank into darkness....

  * * *

  Tabitha sucked in her breath in harsh gasps as she rolled free of Matthew in the pouring rain. She frantically crawled back to him and ran her fingers through his hair, finally settling on the large knot from the rock he’d hit. Huntress whined beside her as Tabitha struggled to think what to do. The men might care for Matthew but be sloppy about it. Yet if she revealed herself, they would likely feel that her husband was weak if he needed to be rescued by the hands of a woman.

  Big Jim’s shout made up her mind for her, and she grabbed Huntress’s collar and got to her feet to dash back into the forest under cover of the pounding rain. She watched from the bushes as Big Jim crawled through the leafy branches to the place where Matthew lay in a fast-growing puddle of rain.

  She could see that Big Jim wasted little time hefting Matthew over his shoulder and working his way back to where the other men waited. Then Tabitha spoke softly to the wolf dog, and they turned in unison to b
egin their journey back to Aenti Fern’s cabin while the storm passed over as quickly as it had kumme through.

  * * *

  Matthew was vaguely aware that he was being dragged through the woods on a stretcher of some sort, but his head hurt too badly for him to care, and he drifted back into the comfort of unconsciousness.

  Chapter Ten

  “What happened?” Abner bent near the stretcher with a grim expression. The buwe was sickly pale and seemed to have a fever of sorts.

  Abner listened to the explanations and the far-fetched tale of a ghostly Amisch buwe who’d saved Matthew from certain death by pushing him out of the way of the oak.

  “A ghost buwe, huh?” Abner knew the men’s penchant for the supernatural, but he also knew Tabitha. “Get him up ta Aenti Fern’s and I’ll geh along with y’uns.”

  Once there, Abner hoisted Matthew to his feet and dragged him inside Aenti Fern’s cabin. Tabitha hurried across the pegged floor to greet them, displaying no surprise at the arrival of her ailing husband.

  “Take him in ta the bed, Abner. We’ll be fine from there,” Aenti Fern instructed.

  “Jah, but I’m not fine,” Abner grumbled, giving Tabitha an arch look.

  But after Abner laid Matthew down carefully, the young wife was only focused on her mann.

  Abner gave up on Tabitha for the moment and went back into the adjoining room, where Aenti Fern was grinding something with a mortar and pestle.

  “Was Tabitha here for the past two days?” he asked abruptly.

  “Define here.” Aenti Ruth smiled.

  Abner sputtered. “Here . . . in this cabin!”

  Aenti Fern considered. “You know what the Englisch say, dontcha? ‘What goes on in the cabin, stays in the cabin. . . .’”

  “Ach, may heaven spare me from auld and young women alike!” Abner groaned, then left the cabin with a quick slam of the door.

  * * *

  Tabitha sought the hook-and-eye closures of her husband’s wet shirt and bent to speak softly in his ear. “Matthew? It’s me, Tabitha. . . . You’re going to be all right. . . .”

  She was surprised to see his eyelids flutter; he groaned faintly. It seemed an instinctive thing for her to bend and carefully press her mouth to his in a soft kiss. And, just as it had at the campsite, his response to her sent tiny shivers of pleasure coursing through her veins.

  “Better medicine than I can give him.” Aenti Fern laughed as she entered the bedroom carrying a bowl and a poultice.

  Tabitha felt a blush stain her cheeks and wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “Ach, I’ve known ya since ya were in wee skirts, mei maedel. Do you think I’m too auld to remember what it is to be in love or to love someone?”

  Tabitha stared at her. “Is there a difference between the two?”

  “As different as a frog is from a toad.”

  “And is he my handsome prince?” Tabitha asked reflectively, reaching to brush Matthew’s hair off his forehead.

  “That . . .” Aenti Ruth handed her the bowl. “Is for y’uns alone ta figure out.”

  * * *

  “Tabby. I haven’t been this concerned about someone since your moth—for quite a while.” John Stolfus caught his dochder’s hand in his own. “How is the buwe?”

  “He’s improving every hour, I believe, Da. He will get well.”

  “Ach, I should have gone myself to cut the oak! When I think of so suddenly having a sohn and just as quickly losing him. . . . Well, praise Gott for the ghost or angel or whatever it was that saved Matthew’s life.”

  Tabitha didn’t reply, yet strangely, she didn’t feel as frustrated with her daed for calling Matthew a sohn. Didn’t she herself rejoice over his escaping the tree that might have crushed his big body to the earth? It mattered little to her that she herself could have been badly hurt. She only knew that in those moments of the storm, she wanted nothing more than to help him.

  “I’d better geh and check on him,” she murmured.

  “Jah, of course!” Her fater bent and kissed her, and she slipped back inside Aenti Fern’s cabin to tend to her husband.

  * * *

  Matthew fully came back to himself a day later, when he was awakened by the distinctive and pungent smell of dog breath. “What the—”

  “Huntress, get down!” He watched Tabitha shoo the big dog away from the bed.

  “Is that a gray wolf?” he asked with interest. “Or maybe I’m just hallucinating. . . .”

  “It’s a wolf dog and I think you’re finally going to be well.”

  He noted the satisfaction in her voice as she adjusted a quilt across his bare chest.

  “Finally? Has it been long? I remember the oak . . . and then a storm.”

  “You fell and hit your head. You’ve been sick for three days.”

  He reached up a hand to gently cup her chin, and to his surprise, she didn’t shy away. “I remember . . .” He struggled to grasp the thought that eluded him as he stared into her sapphire-blue eyes.

  “Likely you remember lots of strange things,” she said lightly as she moved from his touch. “You’ve had quite a fever.”

  “I suppose.... But—”

  “Will you take some cold tea? Aenti Fern has a spring right outside.”

  “And have I met Aenti Fern?”

  Tabitha laughed. “Jah . . . numerous times. She’s off gathering herbs right now, but it was her medicine that brought you through.”

  “And your nursing?” he asked softly.

  She nodded, and he knew a strange satisfaction in his heart.

  Chapter Eleven

  “It’s tradition for the bride and groom to make the rounds and receive wedding gifts together,” Tabitha explained over the breakfast table.

  “Even for a mail-order groom?” Matthew teased quietly.

  They were alone at the table; her fater and Anke were already about their work, and despite her daed’s eagerness to get Matthew to the mill, even he had to make some leeway for the traditions of the Mountain Amisch.

  The young couple had only been home from Aenti Fern’s for a day, but Matthew insisted that he was fine.

  “You’re sure you’re up to walking? We could take the horses.”

  “A walk would be great, especially one with you.”

  Tabitha couldn’t contain the blush his comment created—because she knew that he rarely said anything without meaning it.

  “I agree with you,” she murmured and was pleased to see his smile.

  They cleared the table together, then washed the few dishes.

  “This will give you a chance to learn something of Blackberry Falls,” Tabitha remarked as they started out. “Talking with some of these folks is like going back in time.... But remember, they might also seem strange to you.”

  “Strange is interesting.” He shrugged, then caught her hand in his own.

  With the intimate touch of his fingers laced through hers, Tabitha felt that they were well and truly married. She was so focused on the gentle sweetness between them that she forgot her usual precautions when they stepped onto Grossmuder Mildred’s property.

  The report of a rifle shot echoed around them and Tabitha sighed out loud.

  “Are we being shot at?” Matthew asked. He pulled her behind him, then crouched to the ground.

  “Jah, it’s just Grossmuder Mildred. She’s blind—”

  “And she’s shooting at us?”

  Tabitha giggled in his ear and was surprised when he turned and swiped a quick kiss across her lips.

  “I love to hear you laugh,” he whispered. “Even when we’re being shot at.”

  Tabitha knew a warm tightening in her belly, like the excitement she felt when spring came to the mountain after winter had passed.

  “Who’s there?” a strong, elderly voice called out.

  “Grossmuder Mildred, it’s Tabitha King and my new mann, Matthew.”

  “Ach, well, why didn’t ya say so? Kumme on up on the porch.”

  Tab
itha allowed Matthew to pull her to her feet and they climbed the small rise that led to the cabin. Bright red and pink rose bushes bloomed on either side of the front stairs, seeming in direct contrast to the tall, black-clad Amisch woman whose hair, where it peeked from beneath her kapp, was bright silver.

  She propped her rifle against the porch railing and reached out both hands. “Now then . . . let me see this mann of yours.”

  Tabitha let Matthew step forward, and Grossmuder Mildred reached up to put her hands on Matthew’s face. “Hmm . . . nice cheekbones, deep-set eyes . . . what color be they, Tabitha?”

  “Emerald green.”

  “His lips are firm. Meant for kissin’, am I right?”

  “Jah,” Tabitha said, low.

  Grossmuder Mildred felt her way down to the span of Matthew’s shoulders. “A big man, broad and hearty,” she pronounced. “Tabitha, ya won’t geh long without a babe of his fillin’ yer belly.”

  Matthew coughed and Tabitha felt her face flame.

  “Ach, don’t mind me.” Grossmuder Mildred laughed, clapping her hands against Matthew’s chest. “It’s only when ye’re very auld or very young that ya can say what ya like. Right, buwe?”

  “Right.”

  Tabitha was pleased to see Matthew smile and reach with tender hands to touch Grossmuder Mildred’s shoulders. My mann is both gentle and a gentleman. . . . He would handle a boppli nicely. . . . Once more, she felt the excitement in her belly and wondered what strange bond Matthew was weaving between them....

  * * *

  Matthew carefully opened the small writing desk that was fitted out with all kinds of compartments and little drawers. Fresh parchment and a quill and ink were also there. “This is very auld,” he said to Grossmuder Mildred. “I don’t know what to say.... Surely you want to keep something like this in your family?”

  “Ha! And what are ya but mei family, buwe? You and Tabitha? All the earth is family . . . they jest forget sometimes.”