An Amish Courtship Read online

  Samuel rubbed his hands over his face. Could he face Martin again? Not when this slow burn continued in his stomach. The world was full of Martin Troyers who would never let him come out from under Daed’s shadow.

  He leaned on the fence, watching the horses. They had lost interest in him and had gone back to cropping the grass.

  When Bram had returned home after living in Chicago for twelve years, he had been able to avoid Daed’s legacy. His older brother had escaped the shame of the remarks and pitying looks and Samuel envied him.

  The envy was worse than the shame.

  When people spoke of Bram, respect echoed in their words. Respect Samuel had never heard when people spoke of their daed...or him.

  As much as Samuel wanted to prove to the community that he wasn’t the same man as his father, he had fallen short. Nothing he said made any difference. They treated him the same way they always had, as if a man could never change.

  That girl with the brown eyes, Mary, was different, though. New in the community, she knew nothing about his past. Nothing to make her judge him. Perhaps if he could do something to earn her respect, the rest of the community would follow.

  Samuel rubbed at his beard, remembering how Mary Hochstetter had stood up to him before church. If he could earn her respect, he wouldn’t care about anyone else’s opinion.

  He picked at a loose sliver of wood on the fence post. It broke off and he stuck it in his mouth to use as a toothpick.

  “Samuel?”

  The woman’s voice came from behind him. Unfamiliar. It wasn’t Judith or Esther.

  “Samuel Lapp? Is that you?”

  He straightened and turned, facing this new challenge. But when he saw Mary Hochstetter standing next to the wheel of the last buggy in line, watching him, he felt his tense face relax into a smile.

  “Ja, it’s me.”

  She twisted her fingers together.

  “When we met this morning, I was very impolite.”

  “Forget it.” The words came out rough, and he cleared his throat.

  She ran her hand along the wooden buggy wheel, brushing off a layer of dust. “I let myself form an opinion of you without learning to know you first. Sadie says I should be careful not to judge a book by its cover.”

  She smiled then, still watching the dust drift from the buggy wheel into the air. His heart wrenched at the soft curve of her lips.

  “I wasn’t very polite, myself.”

  “You were fine. I mean, you didn’t do anything—” Her face flushed a pretty pink. “I mean, you were friendly.” Her face grew even redder. “Except for...when you winked... I mean, I’m sure you didn’t mean to be forward.” She bit her lip and turned away.

  Samuel resisted the urge to step close to her, to cover her embarrassment with a hand on her arm. “I think I know what you mean.”

  “I heard what you said in there.” She tilted her head toward the house in a quick nod. “I think it is wonderful-gut that you want to help with that poor farmer’s work. In Ohio, the community always works together when one family is having trouble.”

  He felt a flush rise in his cheeks at her words of praise. “We do that here, too.” He couldn’t look at her face. If she had heard what he said, then she had also heard the derisive remarks from the other men.

  “That’s good.”

  Samuel dared to raise his eyes, but she was fingering the buggy wheel again. As another little cloud of dust drifted to the ground, she glanced at him and smiled. “I must go help wash the dishes.”

  Mary walked back toward the house, turning once when she reached the center of the yard to give him a final glance. Samuel raised his hand in answer and leaned against the fence post behind him. She opened the screen door and entered the covered porch, disappearing from his view.

  Samuel scratched his beard, running his fingers through its short length. Sometime after Bram had come back last year he had stopped shaving. A clean chin had been a sign of his single status, but last fall he had stopped caring. Stopped thinking that what he looked like mattered to anyone.

  But now, his insides warm from Mary’s kind words, he suddenly cared what she thought about him and his farm. Maybe he could earn her respect. Maybe he could hope to move out from under Daed’s shadow and become a member of the community the way Bram was.

  He tugged at his whiskers, watching the screen door that had given a slight bang as Mary had disappeared. He tugged at the whiskers again. Maybe he would shave in the morning.

  * * *

  “Who would think that two nice girls like Judith and Esther would have a brother like that?”

  Ida Mae leaned her arms on the back of the front buggy seat and tilted her head forward between Mary and Aunt Sadie.

  All three of them were tired after the long Sunday afternoon at the Stutzmans’, but they had enjoyed a good time of fellowship. All of Mary’s fears had been for nothing. This new community had welcomed them with open arms.

  “Samuel has a burden, for sure.” Aunt Sadie turned to Ida Mae. “Don’t be too quick to dismiss him, though. There’s more to him than he shows us.”

  “Judith and Esther are nice girls, didn’t you think so, Mary? Judith is going to bring a knitting pattern over this evening. She is so friendly.”

  “Ja, they both are. Is it only the three of them in their family, Aunt Sadie?”

  “Their parents have passed on.” The older woman’s expression softened as she looked back over the years. “There were six children. A nice family, it seemed, until...” She glanced at Mary and Ida Mae. “I don’t want to gossip. They were a nice family. Bram is the oldest. He left the community during his rumspringa, but his mother never gave up hope. Even on her deathbed she had faith that Bram would come back home.”

  “Did he?” Ida Mae watched their aunt’s face, interested in the story.

  “Ja, he did. Not until after she had passed on, but he did come back. He married a widow from Eden Township and lives down there with their children. A good Amishman, even after all his troubles.”

  Ida Mae leaned closer. “What about the rest of the family?”

  “Samuel inherited the farm when their father died a couple years ago. The oldest girl...her name...I can’t remember it. Maybe Katie? Anyway, she married a man from Berlin, Ohio. We haven’t seen her since then. The next girl is Annie. She married a Beachey from Eden Township, the oldest son of their deacon. I go to quilting with her every other Thursday, and she has a sweet little boy.”

  Sadie’s voice trailed off, smiling as she watched the roadside pass by.

  “And the rest?”

  “You’ve met them. Esther and Judith. They keep house for Samuel and have since Annie got married.” She brushed at some dust on her apron. “I’ve tried to help those girls once they were on their own after their older sisters left home. I don’t know how much they remember about their mother, but they were quite young when she died.”

  “What kind of help?” Ida Mae asked.

  “We made soap together last winter, but I’ve also been longing to help them with their sewing. You’ve seen how worn their clothes are. They haven’t made new ones for a couple years, and I don’t think Katie or Annie taught them to sew. If we had fabric, we could have a sewing frolic, just the five of us.”

  Mary glanced at the smile on Sadie’s face. “I think you would have a thing or two to teach us, too. We should invite them over.”

  “If they have time. They keep themselves at home most days. Our Wednesday quiltings are about the only time they get to be social with the rest of the women of the district.”

  “Maybe if we tell Samuel that we’ll make new shirts and trousers for him, he’ll like the idea.”

  “Ja, for sure.” Aunt Sadie’s chin rose and fell. “I’ll talk to Samuel when he comes over tomorrow and make
sure he encourages them to come.”

  Mary’s stomach gave a little flutter at the thought of seeing Samuel again so soon. That flutter was very different than the clenching feeling she got when she thought of men like Harvey Anderson. She pushed it down anyway and cleared her throat.

  “Why is Samuel coming over tomorrow?”

  “He does my heavy chores for me.” Sadie turned to her. “Didn’t I tell you? He comes by to clean the chicken coop and cut the grass, and whatever else might need doing. He comes every Monday.”

  “Then Judith and Esther should come with him whenever he comes. We could have a sewing time every week,” Ida Mae said. She was clearly excited about the idea.

  They rode in silence for a while, and Mary watched the way ahead through Chester’s upright ears. Now that she and Ida Mae were here, Samuel wouldn’t need to bother doing Sadie’s chores for her. She and her sister were more than capable of taking care of things without a man around.

  As they passed the lane to the Lapps’ farm, Mary glanced toward the house and barn. The odor of a pigsty drifted through the air.

  Aunt Sadie had spoken of the Lapps as if they were a normal Amish family, but Samuel wasn’t a normal Amishman. He had been pleasant enough at church, but some of the folks had spoken of him as if there was something very wrong.

  “Why don’t some of the men like Samuel? The women seemed to like Judith and Esther.”

  “Sometimes Samuel is too much like his father.” Sadie’s voice was so soft that Mary barely caught her words. “He is a troubled man. He learned some bad habits from Ira, but there is hope for him.”

  Less than a half mile down the road from the Lapps’ farm, Chester turned into the drive of Aunt Sadie’s place without any signal from Mary. Mary pulled up at the narrow walk for Ida Mae and their aunt to go into the house, and then she drove the buggy the short distance to the small barn. As she unhitched the buggy and took care of Chester, her thoughts went back to the Lapp family.

  It wasn’t unusual for sisters to keep house for their brother after their mother passed on, but both Judith and Esther were pale and worn, like they worked too hard. Mary smiled to herself as she brushed Chester’s coat. Here she was, judging people before she got to know them again. The sisters seemed like nice girls. And since they were Aunt Sadie’s closest neighbors, they would be able to spend much time together.

  Their brother, though...

  Mary turned Chester out into his pasture and hung up the harness.

  Samuel was a strange one. Mary had never met anyone quite like him. And what had Aunt Sadie meant when she said he was a troubled man?

  Underneath the grouchy stares and gravelly voice, he was quite good-looking. And when she had apologized to him, he had been friendly. Even intriguing. And Aunt Sadie seemed to be very fond of him. He might be a puzzle worth figuring out.

  Mary stopped her thoughts before they went any further. She wouldn’t be the one to figure out the puzzle that was Samuel Lapp, so she should just forget about him. Forget about all men.

  But she couldn’t forget. It was too late. Her thoughts went on without her, down into that dark hole. Her skin crawled as if she could feel Harvey’s sweaty palms through her dress, pressing close, and closer. She shuddered, willing the memory to disappear, but Harvey’s hands groped and pulled. His breath smelled of stale tobacco and beer as he pushed his kisses on her.

  Mary forced her eyes open, trembling all over. She concentrated her thoughts, trying to remember where she was—in Sadie’s barn, hanging the buggy harness on its hooks.

  Stroking the smooth leather of the harness, she focused on the buckle, the straps, the headpiece still damp from Chester’s sweat. She kept her breathing even and controlled as she counted the tiny pinpoints of the stitching where the straps were fastened together until she reached one hundred.

  Mary took a deep shaking breath. The memory had retreated to the back of her mind. She leaned her head against the warm wood of the barn wall. Someday those memories would stay buried. As long as she avoided men, she could forget the past.

  But Samuel would be at the farm tomorrow, and she would see him again on other days. Mary pushed at the shadows that threatened at the edge of her mind. A brother. The shadow retreated. She would treat Samuel the same as she treated her brothers. He wasn’t Harvey Anderson.

  Chapter Two

  Monday morning dawned with the promise of a hot, sticky day ahead. On the way back to the house with the basket of eggs, Mary stopped by the garden to look for some early peas to go with their noon dinner. Noticing some stray lettuce seedlings among the beans, she bent to pull them out, but then saw how many there were. It was as if Sadie had planted the beans and lettuce in the same row.

  She left the lettuce where it was and picked a couple handfuls of peas from the vines in front of her for lunch. Continuing on to the house, she paused at the sink in the back porch to wash up. The others were in the kitchen fixing breakfast.

  “I want to ask Judith about the knitting pattern she brought over yesterday evening if the girls come this week,” Ida Mae was saying.

  Mary set the peas on the counter. “What is the pattern?”

  “It’s for stockings that you knit from the toe up, rather than the top down. I’ve never seen one like it. I was trying to figure out how it works last night, but it’s beyond me.”

  “Margaret used to make stockings like that,” Aunt Sadie said. She sat at the table, paring potatoes. “Margaret Lapp, Judith and Esther’s mother. I have a pair of stockings she made. I’ll show them to you...” Her voice trailed off as she dropped her knife on the table and started to rise.

  Mary put a hand on her shoulder. “You can show us after breakfast. There’s no hurry.”

  Aunt Sadie sank back down into her chair. “Ja. No hurry.” She sat with her hands in her lap, a frown creasing her brow.

  “What’s wrong?”

  The older woman startled and looked at Mary. “What was I doing?”

  “You were peeling potatoes.”

  Aunt Sadie looked at the paring knife and potatoes on the table, her face vague. Then her brow cleared. “Ach, ja. The potatoes.”

  Mary glanced at Ida Mae. This wasn’t the first time they had needed to remind Aunt Sadie of what she had been doing. In the six days since they had arrived, small lapses in their aunt’s memory had been frequent. Perhaps their older relative did need them to take care of her, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it.

  They finished fixing breakfast in silence, each of them caught up in their own thoughts. As Mary scrambled the eggs, Ida Mae fried the potatoes and onions, the aroma filling the little kitchen.

  Mary hoped the move to Indiana would be the healing balm her sister needed. The death of Ida Mae’s young, handsome beau in a farming accident six weeks ago had been a terrible thing, and even though Ida Mae had put on a brave face this morning, grief still shadowed her eyes.

  At least Ida Mae’s tragedy gave Mary an excuse whenever someone questioned her own pale face and shadowed eyes. No one needed to know the real reason for her own grief, even her closest sister.

  Mary set the table, laying the spoons next to the plates, carefully lining them up next to the knives. One by one she set them down, her fingers lingering on the smooth handles. She missed, ne, she craved Ida Mae’s cheerfulness. She relied on her sister to keep things going, to keep Mary’s mind off the past.

  Soon, though, Ida Mae would move on. She would meet a young man, get married, have a family of children and be happy again. The same dream that Mary had shared with her sister for so many years.

  She blinked back tears as she straightened the fork she had just laid on the table. Ida Mae would see her hopes fulfilled, but not Mary. She laid another fork on the table. That dream belonged to an innocent girl with dreams of the future, and she had left that girl in
Ohio.

  * * *

  The sun was already above the tops of the trees as Samuel walked to the barn. As he shoved the big sliding door open, he scanned the building’s dusty interior, filled with equipment and clutter from days gone by. How would that Mary Hochstetter see Daed’s barn? Thinking about her coffee-brown eyes, so much like Mamm’s, pulled at something deep inside, something that reminded him of another time and another place.

  A week, years ago, when he and his brother, Bram, had been sent to Grossdawdi’s farm in Eden Township. He must have been four or five years old. Grossmutti’s kitchen had been a wonder of cinnamon and apples and as much food as he could eat. Grossdawdi’s brown eyes crinkled when he smiled, and he had smiled often. The barn had been a wonderful place to play, with hay piled in the lofty mow.

  Samuel relaxed against the doorframe, remembering Grossdawdi’s patient hands teaching him how to rub oil into the gleaming leather harnesses. His hand cupping Samuel’s head and pulling him close in the only hug he remembered.

  He had never seen the old couple again, but he hadn’t forgotten the peace that had reigned in their home. And one quiet glance of Mary’s eyes had brought it all back.

  Daed’s barn had never been as orderly as Grossdawdi’s, even now when it was nearly empty. There hadn’t been enough horses to fill the stalls since before Daed had passed on. Their driving mare spent her days in the meadow, too ornery for the girls to handle by themselves.

  Samuel walked over to her stall and peered out the open side door to where the mare stood, one hip cocked and head down, drowsing in the afternoon sun as she swished flies with her tail.

  Daed had left the barn a mess when he passed away two years ago. Broken harnesses still sat in a moldy pile in the corner and the unused stalls were knee deep in old straw. They had never been cleaned out when the work horses had been sold to pay off Daed’s debts. The cow was gone, too, and the bank barn’s lower level was empty except for the mash cooker.

  Every time he thought about trying to bring order to the chaos, Samuel felt like he was drowning in memories and past sins. Soon after Daed’s funeral, he had started clearing out the old, moldy harnesses and had found one of the bottles Daed kept stashed away. The smell brought back sickening scenes of Daed trying to hide the bottles from him with clumsy motions. When he found another stash among the straw in one of the empty box stalls, he had given up. Let the old barn keep its secrets.