The Amish Bachelor's Choice

by Jocelyn McClay

  * * *

  Henry Morrow greeted them with a smile when the chime heralded their arrival into the Portage Emporium a while later. Hastening over, he shook their hands and took their outer garments. “I’m so glad to meet you in person. Business by phone used to seem impersonal. When it’s by fax, it gets even more so.” His eyes rounded, in almost-comical shock, as if he’d just realized that what he said might sound offensive.

  Ruth smiled, feeling like it was her first genuine smile of the day. She’d been through this before with the Englisch. They wanted Amish-crafted furniture but weren’t so thrilled about dealing with Amish practices. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing we haven’t heard before. We appreciate you working with us on what is required by our Ordnung.” The Miller’s Creek Ordnung, the set of rules that district members lived by, didn’t allow phones to be owned by its members.

  Malachi removed his black felt hat and handed it over. “In fact, Ruth has worked out a relationship with the local café where they can take phone messages for us, in case you need to communicate with more urgency than fax.”

  Ruth shot a glance at Malachi and raised her eyebrow at the encouraging smile. They’d had a rather heated discussion on the topic last week. Ruth had come up with the idea of offering the Dew Drop Inn one small piece of discounted furniture a month in exchange for the use of their phone and message receptions. The café could feature the item for its Amish and increasing Englisch customers, selling it at a profit that would cover the inconvenience of the use. The discreet tag on the piece of furniture would direct potential customers to the shop. The owner of the café had accepted the proposal with eagerness. Malachi had taken a little more convincing.

  “Wonderful!” Mr. Morrow responded enthusiastically as Ruth gave him the number of the café. “We’ve had such interest in your furniture since we added it to our collection. Folks have asked about pieces in different stains and lead times on special orders. Being able to get information while they’re still in the store would be extremely helpful. Strike while the iron is hot, you know.”

  He and Malachi fell into a discussion of lead times, as well as wood and stain options as Mr. Morrow led them to his office. They passed an open door. Ruth peeked inside to see a young woman doing paperwork at a desk. Returning the woman’s easy smile, Ruth sucked in a breath as she took in the rest of the room. It was larger than most offices. Large enough to comfortably accommodate the child who sprawled on the carpet, busy coloring in a book, and the playpen against the wall. Ruth could see the hump of a miniature figure under a blanket and the tiny hand of the bobbeli that slept there. She blinked at the surprising pressure at the back of her eyes. Nodding at the woman, Ruth hurried on.

  Her heartbeat picked up its pace as she followed the sound of the men’s voices. This was what she wanted. All. She wanted it all. She yearned for a husband and children but she wanted more. She wanted to learn. She wanted to continue working at something more than the summer produce stands or quilt making, which were some of the only things Amish women in their district were allowed to do after they were married. To get all she wanted—the office with children a few paces back down the hall—she couldn’t have an Amish husband.

  She couldn’t have...him. Ruth caught up to the voices. Malachi was in Mr. Morrow’s doorway, his broad shoulder propped against the doorjamb. His thick blond hair showed the indentation of his missing hat, the ends threatening to curl below the crease. His lean cheek dimpled above a smile at something the store owner must have said. He turned at Ruth’s approach and she sucked in another breath at the look in his blue eyes. A look that seemed to say, “I’ve been waiting for you. Here you are.”

  Ruth drifted to a halt, her heart thumping. She’d been waiting for him, as well. If she could have him, all the other things didn’t matter. She had to cross her arms over her chest to stop herself from reaching for him.

  * * *

  Malachi furrowed his brow at Ruth. She had a funny look on her face. He was glad they seemed to be beyond whatever had been going on last Friday. All weekend she’d been on his mind, to the point where he’d almost driven over to see her. So he’d kept himself busy. Samuel had tested his nonviolent tendencies by smirking at him every time Malachi looked up. Only Mr. Thompson’s occasional glance in the rearview mirror this morning had stifled the urge to clasp her hand during the trip. He wouldn’t leave Ruth open to gossip.

  She seemed stuck in the hallway. Malachi motioned her toward the office door. “Mr. Morrow has some questions that you could answer better than I.” He stepped aside to have her enter the office and take the seat the store owner indicated. Malachi settled into the one beside it.

  “We can’t keep your product in the store. It sells out as fast as we can stock it. All the dining room sets were gone in the pre-Thanksgiving rush.”

  “That was all Ruth’s doing. I was just getting into the picture then.”

  “Well, let me tell you, she does a fantastic job. Both as a craftswoman and as a business manager.”

  Ruth folded her hands in her lap. “Thanks. I’ve been taking correspondence courses to learn as much as possible.”

  Malachi raised his eyebrow. She had? That was news to him. Amish women normally didn’t have formal education beyond eighth grade. And none after they were baptized.

  “Well, it shows,” Mr. Morrow agreed heartily. “I’ve been bragging on you, little lady. You ever want to move to Portage, or even Madison, folks would be lined up to hire you.”

  Ruth smiled demurely. Malachi’s eyebrows took a dip, not knowing which he liked less in the comments. Bragging certainly wasn’t a word used frequently in the Amish community. In fact, humility was a tenet of their faith. And he definitely didn’t like the thought of anyone else, particularly in communities distant to Miller’s Creek, hiring Ruth. His fingers curled around the wooden armrests of the chair. Time to hurry this conversation along.

  Much like Sour Grapes, Samuel’s spoiled filly, Malachi took the bit in his teeth in terms of the appointment. Further business discussions were quickly concluded. A short time and an expanded arrangement later, he and Ruth stood. Malachi touched the slender small of her back to guide her out of the office before he could catch himself. Fingers tingling from the contact, he pulled his hand back.

  Waving their goodbyes after a quick tour of the operation, they stepped out onto the sidewalk to find Mr. Thompson’s blue car parked along the street a short distance away.

  Ruth looked at him with a smile. “Gut?”

  If his hand brushed hers as they walked down the surprisingly busy sidewalk, it was an accident. At least that was what Malachi told himself. “Very gut.”

  “I’m glad. Increased business helps provide employment. You might have to expand.”

  Malachi’s smile was a little brittle—his mind was still focused on the store owner’s comment about opportunities for Ruth. “I think we can at least keep everyone employed.”

  After exchanging greetings with the waiting Englisch couple in the car and declining their question regarding an early lunch, they started on the ride home.

  The Thompsons seemed to find a lot to talk about in the front seat. In contrast, Ruth was unnaturally quiet. But her hand lay palm up on the seat between them. Malachi extended his so his little finger bumped hers when the car bounced over some railroad tracks.

  They’d just passed the sign for the city limits when Ruth spoke quietly. “Who’s Leah?”

  Malachi went still at the question. Eyes guarded, he swiveled his head to look into wary green ones.

  He lowered his brows. “Where’d you hear that name?” If his tone was harsher than normal, well, for sure and certain, he didn’t want to discuss Leah with Ruth.

  “Your brieder mentioned her.”

  Malachi frowned. If his brothers made any unfavorable comparison of the two women within Ruth’s hearing, he’d take them out behind the barn and b
e more brother than Amish. The two women were nothing alike. Which was why his feelings for Ruth were much different than any he’d had about Leah.

  “Her father owned the furniture business I supervised in Ohio.” That’d been the extent of the relationship. Even though Leah and her father had given enough hints that they’d be agreeable to a much closer one.

  “So you know her well.” Her slender shoulders slumped a little. Malachi wasn’t sure if that was the reason her hand shifted closer to the black cape. He just knew it moved farther away from his hand and out of touching distance.

  Malachi thought of Leah. She’d worked in the store part of the business but always seemed to be back in the workshop, underfoot. No, underfoot wasn’t the right word. Leah had more finesse than that. But around. Available. Sweet. Undemanding. Agreeable. All the things the woman beside him wasn’t. His lips quirked. Yes, very unlike his badger.

  “Ja. I know her very well.” Ruth shot him a glance, her eyes pausing briefly on the smile before she faced the back of Mr. Thompson’s head.

  “She is coming here before Christmas?”

  “Ja.” He said nothing more. There was nothing more to say. Leah and her father were coming to visit his aunt. The Solomon King and Moses Lapp families had been close prior to Aunt Miriam’s move to Wisconsin years ago. It was highly likely he’d see them while they were in the area, as his aunt would surely invite his brothers and him over for supper some evening.

  If Leah and Solomon were coming to Wisconsin for a different agenda, they were heading for disappointment. They weren’t his guests. Malachi pressed his lips together. There was nothing more to say.

  Apparently, there was nothing more for Ruth to say, either. She was quiet the rest of the journey home, her hands now clasped in her lap. Malachi surreptitiously flicked his eyes in her direction several times during the remainder of the journey, hoping her hand would rest on the seat between them so he could curl his own around it.

  It never did.

  Chapter Fifteen

  On Tuesday, Ruth walked down to Hannah’s farm and caught a ride into town with her. She’d informed Malachi of her plans Monday afternoon when they’d returned to the workshop after the trip to Portage. He hadn’t said anything in response, just regarded her with solemn eyes until Ruth had to bite her tongue not to squirm.

  Tuesday morning started out well. Malachi had apparently found much to do in the office and stayed out of the workshop, which was a relief for Ruth. It wasn’t until later in the day she discovered there might be other things keeping him out front.

  The petite rolltop desk was finished. Prior to preparing an item for shipping, it was their custom to place a discreet business card in a drawer. Ruth searched where the cards were generally stored in the workshop but didn’t find any. She frowned as she walked toward the office. They needed to order more anyway. The previous ones had stated Fisher Furniture. New ones that read Schrock Brothers Furniture needed to be made. Particularly now that there wouldn’t be a Fisher involved in the business much longer.

  Ruth paused for a moment in front of the door. She ached a little every time she saw him. Ach, she ached when she didn’t see him as well, but she’d work on that. And he wouldn’t be witnessing his impact on her anyway. When she knew she was going to see him, she would be in control. Prepared.

  Inhaling deeply, she briskly pushed the door open. Nothing could prepare her for what she saw as she stepped through. Malachi was not in the office, as she’d expected, but was in the store. With his hand clasped around the delicate one of a beautiful stranger. Ruth halted abruptly, her hand on the knob of the still-open door.

  The two turned as the sounds of the workshop intruded into the store area. Ruth noted Malachi hastily dropped the woman’s hand. She stepped the rest of the way into the store and turned to close the door behind her, squeezing her eyes shut as she placed one hand on the jamb and the other on the knob, pulling it secure. For a moment, it was the only secure thing holding her up.

  After exhaling the breath that’d caught in her throat when she’d entered the room, Ruth turned back around. Lack of oxygen made her light-headed, not the sight of Malachi touching another woman. She nodded at the couple and stepped toward the office.

  “Excuse me. I just needed to get some business cards for the back. Mr. Schrock, if you haven’t yet, you might need to order some new ones with your business name on them.” Ruth didn’t care if they didn’t hear a word she said. She darted through the office door. Jerking open a file drawer, she quickly flipped through the folders. As she’d thought, no cards, old or new. The file was as empty as her heart.

  “Ruth.” Malachi stood in the office doorway. Ruth stayed bent over the filing cabinet drawer, her back to him. “I’d like you to meet Leah King.”

  Her eyes squeezed shut. What if I don’t want to meet her? She straightened, swallowing the bile that sprinkled the back of her throat, and turned to face his watchful eyes. Exiting the office, she bumped into the doorjamb in her effort to avoid touching him as she passed.

  The Amish didn’t believe in using the words pretty or beautiful to describe one another. To do so might make one hochmut—“proud” or “arrogant.” Something definitely not of their Plain world. That didn’t mean they didn’t know what beautiful was. Or how attractive it was to the opposite sex. During her rumspringa, Ruth had purchased plenty of Englisch magazines. There’d been pictures of beautiful women in them.

  Even without makeup, the woman before her could hold her own with the Englisch models.

  Leah looked like a perfectly put together quilt. No stitch was out of place. The materials chosen were impeccable—the gold of the hair, the violet of the eyes, the pink of the cheeks. The design was flawless. Ruth looked like a quilt she might make, mismatched materials and sloppy stitching. She remembered the sawdust on her neck, gently blown off by Malachi. Now, instead of the memory making her smile, she wanted to cry. She was likely covered with the dust of the trade again. Ruth curled stain-shadowed fingers into her palms. She might work with him, but before her was what a man wanted to go home to.

  Leah even had a lovely, serene smile for Ruth. One Ruth couldn’t return. Had this been Jacob’s Leah from the book of Genesis, he would’ve stopped after marrying her and forgone the other seven years of working for Rachel. Who needed a Rachel when you had this Leah?

  If Malachi had introduced Ruth to Leah as well, Ruth didn’t hear it over the buzzing in her ears. She gave a curt nod at the vision that had been holding Malachi’s hand, and headed into the workshop, to a world where she belonged. Or at least, one in which she used to belong, she thought as she stiffly strode back to her workstation, clenching her tongue between her teeth to keep any expression from showing on her face.

  Reaching her station, she stared unseeing at the empty workbench. What had she been doing? Oh, yes, she was preparing the desk for shipment. Ruth clasped and unclasped her hands, trying to relax. She’d been looking for a card to place in the drawer. She’d have to ask Malachi what he wanted to do since the cards weren’t available. Later. She’d ask later. She certainly wasn’t going back in there now.

  And now was not a good time to start on another project. She’d either waste the wood, injure herself—she winced at the memory of another injury and the moments of closeness afterward—or she’d disappoint a customer with shoddy workmanship. A glance at the wall clock determined it was close to lunchtime. Interest in food was far from her mind, but escaping briefly was very tempting.

  Ruth swallowed. Thankfully, her stomach acted like it was going to stay in place but she didn’t want to put anything in it right now. But if she couldn’t escape physically, she’d escape mentally. Even if it were into a piece that Malachi didn’t approve of her working on during his time. Ruth’s lips firmed. Maybe now would be the best time to work on something he didn’t approve of. Besides, working on the chair made Ruth feel close to Daed. Altho
ugh it was painful, too, she needed that sensation now, when her heart and mind were racing and she felt on the edge of a precipice.

  She turned to where she kept the red oak pieces. They weren’t there. Ruth searched under the workbench and in the areas where she kept other projects. No red oak. Quickly rounding the end of her workbench, she checked workstations nearby. Still nothing. Her actions drew questioning looks from others in the workshop.

  Numbly walking back to her workstation, Ruth concentrated on the last time she’d seen the chair. She went still as the memory surfaced. Friday. When she’d just learned of Leah. When Malachi had chastised her for working on it. She’d stormed out and left it. And it was now gone.

  The door to the store opened and Malachi stepped through, immediately looking to her. Ruth met his gaze and didn’t blink as he walked through the shop.

  “Where’s my daed’s rocker?” Ruth didn’t recognize her voice when he was close enough for her to ask without shouting the question that burned through her. She did recognize the subsequent guilt she read in his face.

  “You took it,” she said bleakly.

  He pressed his lips together but made no response.

  Ruth turned away. Any energy she’d possessed swept out of her and she just felt...empty. “Just go. Please, go,” she whispered to the nicked bench that filled her vision.

  When she looked over a moment later, he was gone. Placing her hands on the counter, she dropped her head between her shoulders. A tear escaped from her eye, rolled down her nose and splattered on the wooden surface. How long ago was it that she’d been in this very spot, missing her daed, concerned the new owner would take away her chance to work with the wood, something she loved?