The Amish Spinster's Courtship

by Emma Miller

  “Oh, Lovey.” Ginger came out from under the sink and looked up at her. “I’m so sorry. But it’s better that you decide you’re not like-minded now, than after you’re married, ya?”

  Lovage shook her head slowly, trying to fight the anger that was abruptly bubbling up inside her. She tamped it down. “I hadn’t even agreed to marry him. But I was going to, because I’ve fallen in love with him,” she said evenly, when she had found her voice again. “But now it’s too late, because he found out about the dare. About you daring me to ride home with him that first night. And he’s furious. He thinks the only reason I’ve been seeing him is because of the dare. And...” Tears unexpectedly filled her eyes. “And I think he’s broken my heart.”

  “Oh, Lovey.” Ginger stared up at her for a long moment, and then got to her feet, tears springing into her own eyes. “I didn’t know... I didn’t realize you cared for him that way.”

  Lovage wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “It doesn’t matter now, because I don’t think he loves me anymore. He feels betrayed by me, I think. He thinks I’ve been toying with his emotions.”

  Ginger just stood there, tears running slowly down her cheeks.

  “Is that why you told people?” Lovage asked softly. “So it would get back to him? So it would cause trouble between us?”

  “Ne!” Ginger’s pretty little chin quivered. “Ya...” She hung her head. “I told some girls at Spence’s. We were just talking and—” she took a breath “—it just came out.” She rushed forward to take Lovage’s hand. “I was so jealous that Marshall picked you, when I’d been trying to get him to ask me out for weeks and...and he was so handsome and the girls were talking about their beaus and...and I was jealous. Jealous of you, of them.” She hung her head again. “I knew it might get back to him and I don’t think I cared. Oh, Lovey, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  Lovage didn’t know what to say. She was hurt that her sister had purposefully done something that could have potentially ruined her relationship with her beau, which it probably had. Lovage was upset that Ginger would cave in to the wickedness of gossip; their mother had taught them better. But she was also proud of Ginger for admitting her mistake. For asking for forgiveness, because God forgave His people for their sins. And didn’t He teach that His people had to forgive each other, as well?

  Ginger squeezed her hand. “And that happened weeks ago, and I didn’t think you were serious about him, and I didn’t—”

  She began to cry in earnest then and Lovage put her arms around her.

  “I’m so sorry,” Ginger kept repeating. “It was a terrible thing I did. I can’t believe I would do such a thing.”

  “Shh. It’s all right,” Lovage soothed, hugging her sister. “I forgive you.”

  “But it’s not all right,” Ginger wailed. “You said that Marshall doesn’t want to see you anymore.”

  Lovage held tightly to Ginger, resting her head on her sister’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s for the best,” she admitted, her voice quivering.

  “Ne, ne, it’s not. Not if you love him.” She drew back and looked up. “If you love him, you should fight for him. You should tell him that he mustn’t let this come between you. Not if he loves you.”

  Lovage shook her head. She was crying again. “But maybe he doesn’t,” she whispered.

  “Don’t say that.” Ginger set her jaw stubbornly. “Lovey, I know you have never thought any man would fall in love with and want to marry you, but I never believed that. You’re the kindest, strongest woman I’ve ever known and I believe that any man who got to know you would want to marry you. And that goes for Marshall, too. He’d be a fool not to have fallen in love with you.”

  Lovage pushed hair that had fallen from her prayer kapp behind her ear. “It might be too late, Ginger,” she said, the fight gone out of her. Now she just felt sad.

  “It’s not too late.” Ginger grabbed her sister’s hand. “I’ll go to Marshall. I’ll tell him exactly what I did and why I did it. I’ll tell him how sorry I am and not to blame you.” She wiped at her teary eyes. “I’ll go right now.” She started for the bathroom door.

  “Ne, you won’t.” Lovage caught her elbow, stopping her. “You’re going to go downstairs with me to set the table for supper and you’re not going to speak a word of this to Mam. She doesn’t need to worry herself over it.”

  “But I have to make it right,” Ginger said fervently. “I have to go to him!”

  “Ne, you won’t go.” Lovage slipped her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “I don’t want you involved. You’ve caused enough trouble.”

  “Oh, Lovey,” she breathed, hugging her close. “He’ll come to his senses. Marshall is a good man. He’ll realize he made a mistake. And mark my words, I’ll soon stand at your side on your wedding day.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marshall walked into the small room off the tack room in the largest of his barns, where he kept his tools, and halted in the doorway. He gazed at the wall where an assortment of tools hung: hammers, screwdrivers, pliers, wrenches and saws, all sorted and displayed neatly on pegboards.

  He pushed his straw hat back a bit and stared at the wall absently. He had no idea why he’d come into the tool room or what he needed.

  With a sigh, he walked back out into the main area of the barn. The double doors that led out into the barnyard were open, allowing the crisp autumn air and sunshine to reach the darkest corners of the two-story structure. A couple of his grandmother’s Guinea hens, which she gave full run of the farm, scratched in the clean straw outside the feed room. Lu, one of his milk cows, bellowed contentedly and he glanced in her direction. She’d had a run-in with a gatepost the previous week and had sustained a pretty big gash in her shoulder, so he was penning her up inside to keep her quiet. The wound was healing nicely, though, and he figured that in another day or two, he could let her back out with the other cows.

  He walked over to the makeshift table he’d made with a piece of plywood and two wooden sawhorses he and Sam had built the previous year. He had removed the screen door from the back porch and laid it out on the table so he could repair or replace the screen. The day before, Petunia had broken through, trying to get to a bucket of scraps Grossmammi had left on the porch for Sam to add to the compost pile. Once Marshall had had a chance to survey the damage more closely, he had decided that the whole screen would have to be replaced. He’d retrieved a roll of galvanized screening from the shed, but that was far as he’d gotten. Now he needed rip out the old and put in the new.

  That was the plan, at least, except that Marshall was feeling so scattered he couldn’t concentrate on the project. He’d been like this for days. He kept starting tasks only to lose interest or energy. He continually misplaced objects; last night he’d spent ten minutes looking for his favorite pitchfork. The day before it had been his wool beanie. And sometimes he found himself standing somewhere with no idea why he was there or how he’d gotten there.

  Petunia bleated and he looked up to see her standing in the open doorway, a leash dangling from the collar around her neck. He shook his head. The goat spent more time running loose than penned up. “Where’s Sam?” he asked.

  The goat didn’t answer. Which made perfect sense. Marshall had been so grumpy for the last week that not even the pet goat wanted to be near him. Sam and Grossmammi had been steering clear of him, too.

  Marshall was so miserable without Lovey. He didn’t want to admit it at first, but it was true. He’d always been a positive type of person and she’d made him so happy. And now he wasn’t. He missed her so much. Missed her smile. Missed talking to her. Missed just sitting beside her on the porch swing, so much that he didn’t know which way was up. And he didn’t know what to do about it.

  Lovey had come to him Sunday after services to talk to him. She’d even admitted she’d gone out with him as a dare, but only that first time. What was
he supposed to do with that information? He was so hurt. As he’d told her, he felt foolish. He could only imagine how many people—people he respected—were talking behind his back.

  “Come on, girl,” Marshall said to the goat. “You shouldn’t be running around loose. That fox will eat you.”

  The goat took a step back and bleated at him again. With a sigh, Marshall moved quickly and grabbed the end of the leash just before Petunia could back out of his reach.

  “Gotcha. Come on.” He tugged on the leash and led her to her stall, which he and Sam had had to reinforce twice because she kept climbing over it. “Inside you go.” He unclipped the leash and gave her a nudge. Then he dropped a soft, mealy apple from a bucket on the floor into a small trough on the other side, through a little hole in the door. It was another of Sam’s inventions.

  Petunia bleated one last protest and then began to munch on her apple.

  Marshall walked back to the screen door, studied it for a minute and then remembered what he’d gone into the tool room for: shears. He walked to the room, grabbed the shears he used to cut metal and went back out to finish his task. To his surprise, he found his grandmother standing beside the table, studying the door.

  “Can’t fix the hole?” she asked.

  “Ne.” He pointed at the door with the shears. “That goat chewed it here. A patch won’t hold. Especially not if she tries to get onto the porch again.”

  Lynita nodded and fingered Toby’s leather halter, which was hanging on a post. Petunia had somehow managed to get ahold of it and he’d barely gotten it out of her mouth before she chewed it through. His grossmammi lifted it off the post and studied the chew marks.

  “Also Petunia,” he said irritably.

  “It’s in a goat’s nature to chew things.” She peered up at him. She was wearing a dark blue dress, a black prayer kapp and a pair of rubber shoes that made her look like she had duck feet. “Just like it’s in the nature of a man to sulk.”

  It was obvious she was referring to him. “I’m not sulking.” He set the shears down and started pulling away the rubber spline that held the screen in place in the groove.

  She looked up at him. The October sun was bright enough that her transition sunglasses were dark. “Sam and I and the goat have had about enough of it.” She hooked her thumb in the direction of Petunia’s stall.

  He frowned and tugged at the spline, thinking that if he didn’t say anything, his grandmother would go away.

  “You told me what happened with Lovage. The whole thing with her sister.” She gave a wave of dismissal. “Silly girlish nonsense. You’ve taken it all too seriously.”

  He went on ripping out the spline; the screen came away with it.

  Lynita rubbed the oiled leather of the halter between her fingers. “What you didn’t say is what you were going to do about it.”

  “Do about it?” He kept his head down, avoiding her gaze. “Nothing to be done. It’s over. She made a fool of me.”

  “Maybe, but now you’re making a worse fool of yourself. First little problem that comes along and you give up?” she tsked. “And you think you’re ready for marriage? I’ve got news for you, sohn. You marry any girl and you’re going to come up on bigger logjams than this one.”

  Marshall grabbed the spline with his pliers, pulled too hard and it snapped, leaving a piece still partially embedded in the door. He groaned impatiently. “I thought you’d be happy. You didn’t want me to marry Lovage. Faith’s the girl you picked for me.”

  “True enough.” Lynita gave a humorless laugh. “But you think I’m no better than that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look at me,” she said.

  Slowly he lifted his gaze, until he looked down at her tiny face.

  “What kind of grandmother do you think I am, that I’d be so set on a woman for my grandson I’d see him unhappy?” she demanded.

  He stared at her, not quite comprehending what she was saying.

  “Sohn, all I want is for you to live a Godly life and to be happy. For Sam to be happy. Would I have liked it if you had settled on Faith King? Ya, but you didn’t.” She shrugged. “You love that girl from New York? Then you better make this right. Because you won’t be happy. You’ll never be happy without her. And if you’re not happy, I’m not happy.”

  His grandmother’s words surprised him. He had just assumed she didn’t like Lovage. That she was against him marrying her, plain and simple. “Make it right how?” he asked. “She played me.”

  “Ya, maybe. But then she apologized. She cares for you, Marshall, and I think you care for her. You think you looked like a fool when those two girls played a little joke on you?” She waggled her finger at him. “You’re going to look a bigger fool if you don’t go to that girl, accept her apology and ask her to forgive you for not doing it days ago. Because let me tell you, a girl who can apologize for a mistake, those are few and far between. You better beg her for forgiveness and snatch her up fast.”

  Marshall set down his pliers. “You really think I should forgive her?”

  “I think you better be asking her to forgive you.” She frowned. And then she reached for the shears on the table and, to Marshall’s astonishment, cut the noseband of Toby’s halter right in half.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, staring at the piece of tack in her hand.

  She handed him the leather halter. “Needs fixing. You know a good harness shop?”

  * * *

  When Marshall pulled his wagon up in front of Benjamin Miller’s place, he almost headed right back down the driveway. He was so nervous that his legs were wobbly as he walked through the shop door and the little bell jingled overhead. He was nervous and he was scared. Nervous because he wasn’t sure what he was going to say to Lovey. Scared because what if he didn’t say the right things? What if he had ruined everything, being so petty?

  Over the top of a shelf, he spotted an Amish prayer kapp. A young woman was bent over the register, pushing buttons. When he came around the shelf, he saw that it was Lovey and he almost hightailed it for home. Instead, he strode toward her.

  “How can I help—” When she saw who it was, she went quiet.

  “Lovey,” he murmured, sounding much calmer than he felt.

  “Marshall,” she breathed.

  He couldn’t look away from her. She was so beautiful in the midmorning light coming from a skylight overhead. Her blue dress was neatly pressed, her white apron and prayer kapp pristine. And she was watching him with the green eyes that had captivated him the first time they had met in this very same place.

  “What— How can I help you?” she said, awkwardly setting her hands together on the counter.

  “I, um...um...” He’d almost forgotten the halter his grandmother had purposely damaged to get him here. He held it up, dangling it from one finger.

  She slowly moved her gaze to the piece of tack. “You came because you needed a halter repaired?” She sounded disappointed.

  “Ya, I...” He closed his eyes. If he didn’t find his nerve now, he never would. And as much as he dreaded this conversation, the possibility of living without Lovey was far worse. “Ne,” he said firmly, opening his eyes. “This was an excuse. To see you.” He dropped it on the counter. “Is Ginger here?”

  “Ya. Working.” She pointed to the door behind the counter. “In the back.”

  Without asking permission, Marshall pushed through the swinging half door beside the counter. And without permission, he grabbed Lovey’s hand and led her to the back, flinging open the door and stepping into the workshop area. Spotting the little sister who had started this whole mess to begin with, seated at a sewing machine, he hollered, “Ginger!”

  She looked up, startled, and lifted her foot off the treadle, bringing the needle to a standstill. “Marshall!” She looked scared.

  “Go watch the c
ash register out front,” he ordered, already starting to weave his way across the large workroom toward a door in the rear. “I need to talk to your sister privately.”

  Wide-eyed, Ginger flew off her stool. “Sure.” She hurried toward the door to the shop. “Take as long as you want.”

  Still holding tightly to Lovey’s hand, Marshall flung open the back door. Luckily, it actually led outside.

  “Where are we going?” Lovey wasn’t exactly protesting, but she was pulling back a little. Maybe trying to take her hand from his.

  “Somewhere private,” he told her. It had been his first thought to take her to the greenhouse he had built with her brothers. There, they could be alone, unseen, out of earshot. But a secluded place like that wasn’t exactly the appropriate place for an unmarried couple to talk. They’d taken care to protect their reputations for three months; that wouldn’t change now. Besides, it was too far away. Instead, he led her to the woodshed beside the old dairy barn that Benjamin had converted to his shop. He pulled her inside. The shed had three sides and was stacked to the ceiling with cords of wood for the woodstoves not just in the farmhouse, but the shop, as well. He stepped behind a neatly stacked pile of walnut.

  “You should let go of my hand,” she said, when they were facing each other.

  “I’m not going to do that. Not until I’ve had my say.”

  She stood in front of him, her head bowed. But she hadn’t taken her hand from his, not since they had stood at the cash register. And that gave him hope.

  “Lovey, I came to apologize to you.”

  She lifted her head suddenly. “You did?” Her eyebrows knitted. They were the same color as her hair and neatly arched so that they framed her gorgeous green eyes. “For what?”

  “For the mess I’ve made of things. For getting so upset about Ginger’s dare. For caring what other men thought about me when I should have cared what you thought of me. For being embarrassed in front of the guys because of some silliness you had with your sister. Why do I care why you rode home with me from the softball game that night? All that matters is that you did.” He looked down at the packed dirt floor of the woodshed; the shed smelled of sweet apple and pungent walnut. “It was foolish and prideful of me not to accept your apology on Sunday, Lovey. On Sunday of all days,” he added.