The Amish Spinster's Courtship

by Emma Miller

  He released his hold, his questioning expression carving lines in his forehead.

  She forced herself to relax. It was just Leviticus come home, after all. He meant nothing to her anymore. “You’ll find Albert next to the rose garden.”

  He nodded, and then glanced back at the collection of women clustered in the living room. “Have the women gathered to pray? Is someone sick?”

  She shook her head, shoving her trembling hands into her apron pockets to keep her reaction to him hidden. “Nee, the church choir is having a singing frolic in the park this weekend. There’s been so much destruction in Pinecraft since the hurricane. Some of the women have planned a dinner to raise much-needed funds. Clara was kind enough to offer the choir use of the farmhouse so we could practice.”

  Verity could still feel the gaze of several choir members on her, watching and wondering. Should she mention to Leviticus that his father had had a stroke less than a month ago and was still in a weakened condition? No. It was best she stayed out of the Hilty family business. She was the housekeeper, after all. Not family. She’d leave that conversation for Albert and his son.

  “Who’s Clara?” Leviticus’s eyebrows knitted together.

  She spoke over the sounds of the choir warming up again. “Clara is Solomon’s fraa. Your brother was courting her when you left, but that was a long time ago. No wonder you’ve forgotten.” Like you forgot me, she added silently.

  The women began to sing in sweet harmony. The words to “Amazing Grace” filled the old house, reminding her that Gott had all things under control. Even this awkward situation with the man who had once been her beloved. She tried to sound casual, like someone who didn’t care that the man standing next to her had torn her young heart into a million pieces. “Solomon and Clara are living here now, but it’s temporary. Hurricane winds did some interior damage to their haus down the grove a few days ago and Albert took them in till it’s repaired.”

  “And you? I guess you’re married by now and have your own haus and kinner.” His warm blue-eyed gaze pinned her down like a bug to cardboard.

  She went cold inside. She spoke matter-of-factly but was anything but inwardly calm. “Ya, I was married to Mark Schrock, but I’m a widow now, with a young dochder named Faith. She’s with my younger schweschders while I’m busy with the ladies.” Her gaze dropped to the child sleeping in his arms.

  “I’m sorry about the loss of your husband.” His words sounded sincere enough, but in the past, his words had seemed sincere, too. Especially after his mother’s funeral, when she was seventeen and he had tried explaining why he was leaving Pinecraft, setting her back on the shelf as if they’d meant nothing to each other. That day he’d rambled on without making a lick of sense, especially when he’d suggested his mother had been overworked by the church and his father until the day she dropped dead from exhaustion. Hadn’t he realized women like his mother thrived on being needed and never complained?

  The kind in his arms stirred and stretched, drawing his attention. Flushed with sleep, the little girl made grunting sounds and then settled down. His blue-eyed gaze roamed the child’s face as he tucked a pink blanket in around her chubby legs. A long, slim finger ran lovingly down the side of her rosy cheek.

  She caught a glimpse of the baby’s pursed pink lips. A trickle of milk seeped from the side of her sweet mouth. At least Leviticus had become responsible enough to keep the child well fed. “I see time’s brought changes to all our lives. Is your fraa with you?”

  He looked her over, his expression calm. “Nee. I never married.”

  He seemed comfortable enough with his statement. Like having a child out of wedlock was an everyday occurrence for Englisch men like the one he’d become. “She’s a cute boppli. What’s her name?”

  “Naomi, after my mudder.” He grinned, his beguiling dimple flashing again, tempting her to reach out and touch it as she had a hundred times in the distant past.

  He laughed. “I tend to call her Trouble when it’s three in the morning and she’s screaming blue murder with a wet diaper.” He remained warm and friendly, even though Verity knew she had to be frowning his way. His playful personality had always been so irritating, yet so appealing to her.

  “Babies are known for waking at the worst times.” Drawn in by his smile, she relaxed a tiny bit. She thought of Faith’s first year and all the sleep she’d lost rocking her in the chair Mark had fashioned for her before the accident took his life. Sadness replaced her half smile with a frown. “Komm, you must be eager to see your daed after all these years.”

  “You don’t have to come along with me. It hasn’t been that long. I know where the garden is.” His tone was gentle, but firm. He stepped past her and out the door without a backward glance.

  “It’s been longer than you think, Leviticus Hilty,” she whispered, dealing with what felt like a dismissal. She watched his long stride eat up the distance between the porch and the wood gate surrounding the rose beds. To his retreating back, she muttered softly, “Much longer.”

  Clara was suddenly by her side, crowding her out of the doorway with her big belly. Her friend’s brow arched as she asked, “Who’s that?”

  Leviticus strolled alongside the sheds beside the house, over to where his mother’s rose garden bloomed in perfumed profusion. “That’s your bruder-in-law, Leviticus Hilty.”

  “How can that be?” Clara’s honey-colored eyes widened in surprise. Always nosy, she flicked her kapp’s ribbon behind her shoulder and inched closer to the screen door for a better look. “He’s not anything like the Leviticus I remember. That man’s an Englischer.”

  “Ya, he is, but he’s Leviticus Hilty all the same.” Verity strived to steady herself. Her nerves were jingling like the Christmas bells on Faith’s shoes. Leviticus had returned. So what if he’s returned? He no longer means anything to me.

  Verity watched as Leviticus turned toward the backfield of blown-over citrus trees and moved on. His shoulders rounded, no doubt in reaction to the damage stretched out before him.

  The grove had been slammed by high winds during the recent late-season hurricane. Squalls of heavy rain had flooded field after field until they were all underwater. The house had been spared, for the most part, but the damage to the grove would be considerable, if not devastating, financially. Verity loved the fields of miniature orange trees, this old house, its family. How will the grove survive?

  “Solomon’s not going to like Leviticus’s returning home an Englischer. Even now, when an extra hand is needed and appreciated.” Clara patted her stomach, as if rubbing it would rid her of the concerns that might upset her boppli. “And Albert. Do you think he’ll easily forgive his soh for leaving the faith and never joining the church?”

  “He certain-sure missed him.” Verity forced her fisted hands to relax at her sides. “As far as I’m concerned, Leviticus coming home is exactly what Albert didn’t need. And bringing a kind with him, even though she’ll be a blessing, will bring more problems. We’ve got thirty nosy women in the house, all of whom love to spread rumors. We’ve got to get rid of them as fast as we can. I can hear them now. Albert’s soh is home and has brought shame to the community yet again.” Verity smiled reassuringly at Clara. “You find a way to get rid of the ladies while I deal with this situation.”

  Verity opened the screen door and scooted past. Consternation put a frown on her face. Why had Leviticus chosen now to come home?

  * * *

  Leviticus hurried along, his thoughts scrambled by the funny games God seemed to allow people to play with their lives. His mother’s sudden death, his leaving home, his time at the Amish rescue home, his enlistment into the army. Serving a six-month tour in Afghanistan and nearly dying just days before he was to leave had left him dealing with PTSD.

  He would have never guessed Verity, one of the people he’d hurt the most, would be taking care of his aging father. She w
as no longer a girl, and he had to admit she looked good. Better than good.

  She’ll never take you back, no matter how forgiving an Amish woman she is. You don’t deserve someone like her. Not after what you did.

  He was still captivated by the spirited Plain woman with coppery red hair and green eyes that sparkled like jewels, but his leftover feelings would have to be crushed.

  She would have been my fraa if I hadn’t left.

  Naomi fussed. His hand trembled as he shaded his daughter’s face from the morning sun. A reminder that his PTSD was kicking up. He had to keep using the stress management techniques he learned in the hospital and take his pills regularly. Naomi was so young and vulnerable. Her whole life lay before her. She had only him. Would he be enough? Was he up to raising a daughter by himself?

  Deep in thought, he ambled toward the rose garden. Memories of his happy childhood flooded in, tugging at his heartstrings. He visualized his mamm clipping off dead rose blooms with care. She’d loved all living things, even him, and he’d seldom earned a day of her devotion.

  Perhaps she’d still be alive if he hadn’t brought shame to their door with his wild ways. He should have joined the church young and been baptized as she’d asked him. But no. He’d had to live the life that suited him best.

  Regret swamped his mind. His father had always held his mother accountable for his inappropriate behavior. Late at night, he’d often heard his parents argue. His older brother, Solomon, never caused tension. Leviticus shrugged in regret and continued to his father’s favorite resting place.

  It broke him to know his mother would never know he’d grown closer to the Lord, straightened out his ways and returned to Pinecraft, where he belonged. With a dochder to bring up, it was far better to return home with tremors from the war than to linger in the Englischer world.

  He took in a deep breath, the scent of the roses reminding him of who he was meant to become. A Plain man, with Plain ways.

  The thick grass underfoot was still marshy from days of torrential rains. He squinted from the bright sun peeking out beneath a cluster of storm clouds. Up ahead his father, Albert, sat in a wooden Adirondack chair, his back to him.

  Leviticus walked up quietly, searching for the words he’d practiced repeatedly, but found he’d lost them to the nerves twisting his gut. “Daed?” he whispered. If only speaking Pennsylvania Dutch would make me Amish again.

  A strong gust of wind carried his word and rushed it toward the sea. He stepped closer, fighting the urge to reach out a hand and touch his father’s silver hair blowing in the breeze. He had no idea how he’d be received. Like the prodigal son, he’d lived with the pigs and eaten their slop for far too long. It was time he faced his past. But doubt crept in. Would he be forgiven? Could he live the Plain life? “Daed.”

  Albert Hilty’s head twisted round, glancing over his shoulder. His smile melted away. A dazed expression crossed his weathered face. He rose with effort, staggering, then reaching out for the arm of his chair. His father’s blue eyes blinked, his countenance growing incredulous. “It’s you, Leviticus? This time I’m not dreaming?”

  “No, Daed. You’re not dreaming. It’s me. Such as I am. I’m home for good if you’ll have me.” Leviticus waited. A sense of peace came over him, edging out the dread he’d felt at the thought of confessing his sins to his father and the bishop. He was glad to be home, glad he didn’t have to deal with the remnants of PTSD alone. He’d needed his family and his growing faith more than he’d realized.

  Albert stumbled forward, arms reaching out. He threw himself at his soh and clung to him in a warm embrace as he kissed his neck, murmuring, “At last you are home.”

  As Albert held him, Leviticus could feel his father’s frail body trembling. A wave of love washed over him. This old man was more precious to him than he’d realized. For a moment, he couldn’t let go. It’s been so long. He’d been so angry. “I’m sorry I left so abruptly. I thought... Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought back then.” His head dropped with shame as his father’s gaze sought his. “I should have come home sooner.”

  “Ya, you should have.” His father nodded in agreement. “Ach, and who is this child between us?” Albert held on to Leviticus’s arm for support, considering the face of his grandchild for the first time. The edges of his mouth turned up into a smile.

  “This is my dochder, Naomi. She’s come to see her grossdaddi.”

  Albert appeared bemused for a moment, his thin, graying brows arching down. His gaze locked with Leviticus’s. “The kind has your mamm’s button nose and her name. This is gut.” He nodded again. “You have a family now. I should have realized you would after all these years.” The old man’s next words rushed out. “Welkom home, Leviticus. You have been sorely missed.”

  “But not by everyone. I’m sure Otto and some of the elders were glad to see the back of me all those years ago.”

  Albert squeezed his son’s arm. “Nee. They prayed for your soul and your safe return home, as I did. But let’s forget all that for now. My soh is home. Gott in His mercy will forgive your past sins if you repent. He who was lost has returned. I care not what others think. Today is a gut day. Komm, let’s go into the haus. I want to get better acquainted with my kinskind.”

  Albert shuffled forward, his steps unsure. Leviticus stayed close. How had Daed gotten so weak in a matter of years? When he’d left, his father had been a strong and able-bodied man.

  Leviticus glanced up. Verity hurried to his father’s side, supporting him as he took small steps. He leaned heavily on her for strength. How long had his daed needed help just to walk? Shame raced through him, burned his cheeks. While he’d been busy living his own life, he’d forgotten time hadn’t stood still for his father, or for the grove. Gott forgive me, I should have never left this place.

  “What happened to you, Daed?”

  Verity supported his father by the arm. Her eyes surveyed Leviticus, saying, It’s too late to be concerned now. You should have stayed home.

  Her arm around his waist, Verity assisted Albert up the back steps and through the kitchen door. The old man shuffled over to the table and sat with a loud sigh, then wiped sweat off his face with the swipe of a bandanna he carried in his back pocket.

  Verity stood by the sink, her hand pressed to her throat, a worried frown creasing her forehead. His gaze shifted between her and his father.

  Albert smiled. He spoke, as much to himself as anyone. “That Englischer doctor said I had a stroke a while back.” He shook his head. “Nee. I don’t see how he could suggest such a thing. I can still walk and talk just fine.”

  Leviticus pulled out a chair at the kitchen table next to his father and lowered himself, watching the aged man’s every move, seeing confusion cross his father’s wrinkled face.

  Albert’s age-spotted hand smoothed the tablecloth in front of him. “I’m certain-sure most folks can’t walk or talk after a stroke.” He smiled Leviticus’s way, one side of the old man’s mouth slightly drooping. “Verity can tell you. I’m doing mighty fine for an old man of seventy plus years. Ain’t so?”

  Verity locked eyes with Leviticus and shook her head, encouraging him not to correct his father’s misconceptions. She reheated the coffee she’d made for herself a few minutes before and laced a cup with two scoops of sugar to ward off Albert’s shock. “He’s doing fine now that he’s up and about.” She placed her hand on Albert’s shoulder and set a cup of sweet coffee in front of him.

  “Would you like something hot to drink?”

  “Sure.” Coffee sounded good. Leviticus took off his billed cap and placed it on the table, revealing his windblown, long blond hair that grew down around his collar.

  Verity’s mouth pursed, her disapproval narrowing her green eyes. Once he changed his clothes to Amish and had his hair cut around his ears he’d fit in better.

  There’d been a time when he’
d fit in fine, belonged...regardless of how rebellious he’d become. He was one of them. But now? The loss of who he could have been caused his heart to ache. What must Daed be thinking?

  Verity poured another cup of coffee and set the steaming mug in front of him. As she went back to the stove, Leviticus could hear his new sister-in-law ushering the last of the singers out the front door. The pregnant woman’s nervous giggles told him she was doing her best to avoid saying too much about his appearance and the suddenly shortened choir practice.

  A glance at the battery-run clock over the stove told him it was high noon. Solomon would probably be home soon for his lunch. Leviticus feared his return wouldn’t bode well with his hardworking bruder. There’d be enough gossip flying around the community about his homecoming without the ladies spreading tales of a heated argument between him and Solomon.

  Verity swatted wisps of hair away from her forehead and then lowered her head, concentrating on making hearty roast beef sandwiches for the men. Albert slurped his coffee as he always did. Leviticus remained quiet for a moment, observing and remembering. Verity stole a glance his way as the kind in his arms began to fret. Naomi’s pudgy bare feet kicked the air in agitation.

  “She needs a diaper change. Any chance my old room’s still available?”

  “It is.” Verity cut into a ripe tomato and took out all the seeds for Albert’s sandwich.

  Everything was different. Never in a million years had he imagined he would someday come home and have need of a cot for a boppli. Nothing had prepared him for the shock of seeing his father so emaciated. Not even the war.

  “I’ve got a small porta-cot Faith used stored under my bed. I’ll wipe it down and put it up in a minute, just in case she gets sleepy again.”

  Albert’s head bobbed. “Ya. Use your old room, soh, but leave the kind and such things to Verity. She’s had plenty of experience with kinner of all ages. Ain’t so?”