by Kelly Long
“How did you know that?” Stephen asked suddenly.
“What?”
“That black licorice is Martha’s favorite. I’m terrified, Joel—I have no idea what Ella’s favorite candy is, or anything else for that matter.”
Joel laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t fret, Stephen. You will know soon enough . . . soon enough!”
* * *
Ella carried baby Anna carefully, wrapping her own cloak about the infant. She was going to Martha’s for a dress fitting and was more than surprised when Martha opened the door to her and there was a sudden burst of many women’s voices, raised in laughter.
“Welcome to your wedding frolic!” Martha cried, leading Ella and the baby inside.
“What? I—” Ella broke off, feeling dazed by the excitement that hung in the air.
“Normally, a bride would have a quilting to celebrate her upcoming wedding,” Martha explained. “But I thought this would be more fun and more timely. Everyone’s brought you a gift, so please kumme in and sit down!”
By the end of the afternoon, Ella was the new proud owner of a pair of candlesticks, handmade doilies for special company, carved wooden spoons, hand-tooled teethers for Anna, and a myriad of other gifts. But probably her favorite present came from Viola’s hand.
Stephen’s mamm leaned close to whisper in Ella’s ear. “This is from Esther. She had a cold coming on but wanted to send you something just the same. I think she’s changing, softening.”
Ella opened the gift with some trepidation, half expecting scorpions or the like to jump out, but, instead she found hand-crocheted oven mitts and a small note wishing her well. It was an exciting end to an overall marvelous afternoon.
* * *
The day of the wedding finally arrived. Both Stephen and Ella and also Anna were staying with the Umbles before they would make the move up to Dan’s auld cabin in a few days.
Stephen found himself so nervous, he couldn’t properly iron his shirt and Joel had to do it for him since Ella insisted, in a very Englisch fashion, that they not see each other until the ceremony.
Stephen was glad for the wait, because it made the moment when he turned to look at her descending the Umbles’ staircase, with Martha as her attendant, all the more magical. Stephen thought back to the moments he’d so easily trusted himself to catch Ella from the burning boardinghouse and he realized now that it was Gott who’d helped him on that ladder, and he was deeply thankful.
Even Joel’s spiritual wedding exhortation did not speak to him as much as the thought that he himself would need to trust himself to Gott’s Hands in order to be able to care for Ella and Anna—and any more children they might be given. He found himself praying, deeply, honestly, and it brought renewal to his soul. He found himself looking down at Ella a few minutes later, now her husband, and he knew that he would treasure her so long as he had breath in his body.
* * *
By mutual understanding of Ella’s delicate condition after giving birth, the honeymoon was postponed, but the nacht soon came when Ella approached Stephen with a determined gleam in her dark eyes . . .
* * *
Stephen caught her hands in his, then bent his head to kiss her fingers slowly, until he felt her impatience as she tried to get closer to him.
“Ella,” he finally said. “It’s only been a few weeks since Anna was born . . . I can’t, we can’t . . .”
“Six weeks.” She smiled at him triumphantly. “I went to see May Miller and she said that was long enough to . . . heal . . . and that I could . . . we could . . .”
He laughed softly. “You actually talked with May about making love?” He delighted in her blush as she lifted her pert nose in the air and sniffed.
“Yes . . . I did.”
“Well, then that deserves some action on my part, doesn’t it?” He lifted his hands to her throat, then bent and kissed her with growing hunger. He loved her mouth with his tongue and teeth and lips and when she was breathing tiny sounds of pleasure, he slid his big hands down to cup her breasts. He squeezed gently, and she arched her back and moaned.
“You’re more sensitive here now, aren’t you?” he whispered.
She trembled as he withdrew his hand from her breast and she stared up at him with dazed eyes.
“Oh, Stephen . . .”
“I know, and I want to give you more pleasure, sweetheart.”
She nodded and then reached for the pins on his blue shirt. She slid them out slowly and he grew impatient and started to help her. They both took his shirt off, revealing the taut muscles of his chest and the lean strength in his ribs. She found his own nipples with her soft fingertips and he closed his eyes against the wash of sensation that her touch produced.
“Does it feel good?” she asked and he managed a nod, then reached to find the pins that held her dress in place, and soon she was clad only in a brief shift, shivering with tension before him.
He reached for the hook and eye on the closure of his dark pants and eased them down while she watched, seemingly mesmerized. He knew his body was big, especially in its swollen state, and he wasn’t sure that he could maintain control when she hesitantly touched him.
“How—is this going to work?” Her voice quavered as she reached out to him.
“Ach, Ella—it will,” he promised as he lifted her and walked toward the bed. “It will . . .”
* * *
October advanced to its late stages with an abundance of good smells and color. Ella learned from the other Amish women in the community how to make homemade soft soap and how to bake pumpkin pies, and she was taking instruction from Joel Umble in the Old Order faith. Now, as she stretched to place a clothespin on a sheet on the line, she smiled to herself. She and Stephen continued to grow closer as husband and wife, in every way.
She hugged the secret feeling to herself and smiled warmly at Stephen when he came out of Dan’s old cabin carrying Anna carefully in his arms. They had plans to expand the cabin in the spring, but for now, it proved the perfect love nest for the three of them.
“You look happy,” Stephen said, a knowing warmth in the sea of his eyes.
“You would know, Mr. Lambert.” She gave him a saucy smile, then laughed out loud when he caught her close to his side even as he held the baby.
“Are you happy, Ella?” he asked softly as he stretched to nuzzle at her neck.
“Oh yes, Stephen,” she whispered in return. “So very happy.”
Anna burped loudly, breaking the rather serious moment, and they laughed out loud together.
“I’ve told you before,” Stephen said once their laughter had faded, “that you have made me feel like I’ve found home, like I’m both back where I started in this place and forward looking at the same time, and I thank Gott every day for what we have.”
“I do too,” she agreed, nodding.
His handsome mouth curved into a knowing smile. “I know that troubles will kumme, but we will be able to face them together. And always, I want to celebrate a life of joy with you, Ella Lambert . . . Joy on Ice Mountain.”
Please read on for a preview of
Kelly Long’s next novel,
An Amish Wedding Feast on Ice Mountain!
Chapter One
Ice Mountain, PA
The hot sunshine of the summer Thursday morning caught on the glassware and flower petals that gave special significance to the corner of the King kitchen where the eck table stood.
All that was needed was the bridal couple and their attendants to begin the special wedding feast where Jeb and Lucy King would receive the blessings and well wishes of both family and community.
But the wedding ceremony still went on, as it normally did, for a gut four hours, and Ransom King was bored. He let his gaze roam over the profile of his handsome big bruder and then paid brief attention to the sound of Bishop Umble’s exhortation only to idly glance across the row at his fellow attendant and the one he was to escort for the day—Beth Mast.
>
The girl’s plump cheeks were flushed a becoming pink and her small hands were clenched in her lap, as she sat, as attuned as a baby hare to every moment of her best friend’s wedding. I’ve never realized how pretty Beth is, Ransom mused to himself but then something went subtly wrong. Beth’s face drained of color and she wobbled slightly in her hard-backed chair.
She fell, like a wilting rose bud, slightly sideways, fast destined for the floor but Ransom was faster. He caught her neatly, ignoring the circle of whispers behind him, and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead as he lowered her with gentleness to the wooden floor. “Fainted only,” he pronounced quietly, knowing Bishop Umble would probably continue with the ceremony whether one girl fainted or ten.
“She needs to eat,” Ransom hissed over his shoulder, aware that the girl had been most likely too focused on her duties as attendant to have any breakfast. Someone handed him a morsel in a white cloth napkin. Gut, he thought. Pie. He pressed some blue crumbs to her lips and she opened her wide blue eyes in both dawning surprise and dismay.
“Blueberry pie . . . ach, my . . .”
Ransom smiled down at the intriguing freckles on her pert nose. “Oh, my, indeed.”
“I have to get up,” she whispered in visible desperation.
“Fine, but you’re coming outside with me for a breath of fresh air,” he muttered. “I’ll wager the gut Bishop has about forty-five minutes left in him yet.” He started to lift her and could tell she was about to protest. He bent his mouth to the delicate ear nearest him. “We don’t want to make a scene, do we?”
Her gentle face flushed with new color as he drew her upright, catching her hand against the crook of his arm and escorting her down the open aisle between the amassed chairs with confident aplomb. It didn’t matter to Ransom that there were titters of interest as they passed; he actually liked giving the older hens of his mountain community something to talk about. But as soon as he had Beth safely outside in the gentle breeze, he realized that the girl had no desire to make a spectacle of herself.
She drew her hand from his arm and swiped at her eyes. “I’ve ruined my best friend’s wedding.”
From another girl, the statement made might have been considered dramatic, but Beth’s soft voice was subdued with sorrow that somehow struck a resonating chord in Ransom’s usually immune heart. He sighed aloud then gently reached a hand to rub back and forth across her back, until he felt her spine stiffen.
She looked up at him with something akin to shock. “You’re touching me.”
He might have pointed out that he’d touched her when he’d helped her from the floor but instead he dropped his hand. He knew how conservative his Old Order Amish community could be. “Sorry. Reflex. Would you like a dipper of water before we geh back inside?”
She shook her head and a tendril of light brown hair escaped her kapp to curl becomingly about her cheek. He decided that she’d probably have a fit if he reached to fix it, so he offered his arm instead.
“Kumme,” he murmured. “There’s no ruined wedding—only a brief diversion and I’m glad to have been of service.”
“Danki,” she whispered, reaching a hesitant hand to his sleeve.
As her fingers settled on his arm, he decided with a strange certainty that Beth Mast was someone he wanted to know more than blueberry pie crumbs on pale lips and a soft back beneath light blue fabric. He escorted her inside and decided he must need something to eat himself for all that his mind was focused on the shy maedel by his side, but then he blinked and marched her purposely forward . . .
* * *
Beth stared down at the steaming plate of ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, green beans, and cucumber relish that her stepmother, Viola, slid in front of her as she sat at the eck.
“You’ve got to eat, Beth—after that terrible fainting experience. My, people will think I don’t feed you enough.” Viola gave a soft laugh and drifted off into the crowd. Beth watched her go with wistful feelings of admiration.
Viola had been her stepmother since Beth was five. Beth’s own mamm had died in a buggy accident before that and her daed always said that he had been blessed to meet Viola and her seven-year-old daughter, Rose. Beth knew her daed was right—that Viola was a blessing—especially since her daed passed away the previous year. Viola and Rose seemed to do all that they could to make sure Beth knew that she was an integral part of the running of the family’s dairy farm, even though Beth grew tired sometimes.
Now she dutifully picked up her fork but made no effort to touch the plate. No one would ever doubt I didn’t have enough food as plump as I am . . . But she pushed away this negative thought and began resolutely on the potatoes, anxious as always to please her stepmother. She jumped a moment later though when Lucy, the bride, leaned close to her.
“What did Ransom say to you outside, Beth?”
Her best friend’s voice was a conspiratorial whisper and Beth had to smile. “You’re supposed to be concerned about your wedding day—and being Lucy King now.”
Lucy shrugged her delicate shoulders and Beth watched her best friend’s eyes sparkle with love for her new husband. “I know but I would also like to see you perhaps become part of the King family. Ransom is a catch.”
Beth couldn’t contain the blush that she knew heated her cheeks but she answered easily and without self-pity. “Which is exactly why he would never have eyes for me . . . Besides, he was just being kind.”
“Well he’s going to have to be ‘kind’ all of today. You know he’s to be your escort for everything—oops, and here he comes now to sit by you.” Beth almost giggled when Lucy withdrew and assumed a proper bridal expression.
“Are you feeling better?” Ransom asked low as he maneuvered his long legs around the chair and under the table. He set a loaded plate on the place in front of him and gave her what appeared to be an intent look.
She swallowed a bit. “I—I’m fine. Danki. And thank you for being so kind in helping me . . . I should have eaten this morning.” She glanced at her fast cooling plate and the mound of food but couldn’t work up an appetite with Ransom in such close proximity.
He had such a reputation with the girls and even Rose, her beautiful older stepsister, had often spoken of him with feminine interest. Beth could understand why . . . His brown hair was stroked with lighter shades of blond and his dark brown eyes were soulful and curious. He had a commanding profile and soothing presence which immediately put a girl at ease—except Beth wasn’t feeling easy at the moment. He’d turned from his plate and studied her with apparent interest.
“Well, I know why you didn’t eat. Like as not, you were doing what I was doing—couldn’t even have a forkful of scrambled eggs because I was so busy helping Jeb get ready.”
Beth heard the warmth in his voice when he mentioned his older bruder. She knew there were six years between the King buwes—Jeb at twenty-six and Ransom at twenty.
“You—you must love him very much,” she said shyly.
Ransom smiled, a casual lift of his lips that produced a dimple in his cheek and made Beth think of an errant little boy. “Ach, I do—of course. And I’ll miss him though he’ll only be down the road at Lucy’s place.”
“Will he work at the woodshop as well as farming?” she asked, setting down her fork on the white tablecloth.
Ransom shrugged. “Probably. Especially if he needs more money when the kinner start to come.”
Beth swallowed, feeling her face flame. Rarely had she known a man to be so matter-of-fact about the appearance of children and she wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Put a foot wrong, didn’t I?” Ransom laughed low. “I apologize.”
“Nn—nee,” she protested feebly. “It’s fine.”
“How auld are you, if I might ask, Beth Mast?”
She sighed, wishing she could be witty and charming somehow. “I’m twenty.” And everyone in the community probably thinks I’ll die an auld maid. . . .
But she’d notice
d that Ransom had raised his small punch glass in one of his big hands. “Then here’s to us being twenty together.”
She grabbed her glass, sloshing it a bit over her hand but then carefully clinked her glass against his and put the strawberry punch to her lips. She’d never had anyone offer a toast in her direction and the feeling was heady.
“To us,” she murmured, watching his tan throat work as he swallowed. And suddenly, her day took on a rare hue of promise.
Chapter Two
As dusk set in and the fireflies began to dance, Ransom eased the curry brush down the side of the faithful horse, Benny, and let his thoughts drift back over the day’s wedding. Beth Mast had proved a charming companion for all of the games and visiting that went on and he’d found himself studying her discreetly on more than one occasion.
“You almost done, sohn?”
Ransom looked up as his father came into the barn and set a lantern down on a barrel top.
“Jah, Daed. I was thinking more than working, truth to tell.”
“Well, it’ll be strange not to have Jeb in the haus, that’s for sure.”
“Uh—right.”
“Not what you were thinking of?” His fater’s voice was warm. “Perhaps it was the bevy of young maedels there today? Or one in particular?”
“Nee,” Ransom laughed. “No one special.”
“So I won’t be gaining another dochder-in-law anytime soon?”
Ransom put down the brush and went over to lay a gentle arm round his daed’s shoulders. The older man had recovered from a heart attack recently and sometimes seemed more fragile than Ransom cared to acknowledge.
“No, Daed. If there’s ever any girl I kumme to love, I promise you’ll be the first—or somewhere in the top three—who kummes to know it.”
They laughed together and then headed for the haus in the gloaming of the evening. Once there, Ransom sat down to the table to enjoy a cold supper of stewed tomatoes and sugar, egg salad, hearty bacon, and broccoli salad with a blueberry cake for after.
