Their Convenient Amish Marriage. Cheryl Williford

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СКАЧАТЬ been up since five, long before the old rooster had had a chance to give his first crow of the morning. An experienced cook, she enjoyed the task of making a tower of assorted shoofly pies, a chocolate cake with rich mocha icing, and for herself, a gooey pan of rich golden-brown apple crumble, her favorite dessert.

      Taking in a calming breath and clearing her voice, she surveyed the room for the soprano singer’s section and found Bunhild, the community’s seasonal matchmaker standing in the place she usually occupied. Purposely avoiding the meddling old woman, she slipped into the end of the alto singer’s section.

      Acting as if she were listening to the song director’s instructions, Verity situated herself closer to Clara Hilty, who was making a point of ignoring her best friend since childhood while holding back a fit of giggles behind her petite hand.

      With her gaze straight ahead, Verity’s finger searched for and found Clara’s rib cage, and gave her very pregnant friend a playful poke.

      Clara jumped, nearly knocking over the young lady standing in front of her.

      Everyone in the lines turned and glared their way.

      “Shame on you, Verity,” Clara muttered out the side of her mouth.

      Verity leaned in close to her friend’s ear. “You should have warned me Bunhild showed up for singing practice. I could have hidden in the kitchen closet until she’d left.” Putting on a heavy Pennsylvania Dutch accent, Verity held back her own giggles as she muttered in Clara’s ear, “Those Lapp bruders are still marriage-minded, and looking for a pretty young woman like yourself to wed.”

      Clara laughed out loud, amused by Verity’s rendition of Bunhild’s heavy northern accent. Verity couldn’t help but laugh with her. For as long as she’d known Clara, which was going on fifteen years, they’d both been consummate pranksters. Nothing had changed now that they were adults.

      Still grinning, Clara’s arms came up and rested on her rotund stomach. There would soon be a long-awaited first boppli for her and her husband, Solomon Hilty. Verity couldn’t help but be excited for them—and a little envious. She loved children, especially tiny babies. She had hoped for a half-dozen kinner of her own, but Gott had other plans for her life and gave her and Mark just the one sweet dochder. But she wanted to ignore unhappy memories. Her excitement grew as she thought instead about a new boppli in the community to care for and cuddle.

      Clara’s giggles turned into a delighted smile. “I could have warned you, but it’s so much fun watching you squirm under Bunhild’s gaze.” But then her expression went dead serious. “You know her matchmaking skills are known far and wide, and you being such a young widow makes the opportunity to play matchmaker too tempting for the old girl.”

      Verity pretended to adjust her kapp and readjust the pins holding down her bun, so she would have an excuse to lean in close to Clara again. “You’d better watch out. I could tell Solomon how much you really paid for that new sewing machine you bought off that Englisch woman.”

      Two spaces down, Pinecraft’s best solo soprano hissed like a leaky gas valve and gave both women a disapproving glare before going back to listening to Sarah Beth’s information on the upcoming fund-raising frolic where they’d be singing at Benky Park.

      When Verity looked back, Clara’s playful smile was gone. “You wouldn’t tell on me?”

      “I might,” Verity whispered, her eyebrow raised in a mock threat. But she’d never say a word about the extra twenty dollars spent. The seller had kindly thrown in a sewing basket full of threads and four packs of machine needles. A real deal.

      Known for his penny-pinching ways, Solomon Hilty would still grumble about the extra money spent. Verity wasn’t about to blab, but she ought to. Determined to wed Verity off, Bunhild Yoder was no laughing matter, and now she had to deal with her as soon as singing practice was over.

      Feeling eyes on her, Verity glanced up and released an irritated sigh. Bunhild was staring at her again from across the room and wearing that exasperating expression of eternal hope. Verity inwardly cringed. “You know I respect Bunhild’s skills as much as everyone in the community, but if I must listen to one more of her sermons on how marriage is Gott’s plan for your life, I think I’ll scream.”

      A loud knock at the front door sounded, redirecting Verity’s attention. “Whoops! Excuse me.” She slipped out of line and hurried to welcome the late singer at the front door. Working as Albert Hilty’s live-in housekeeper the last few years had proven to be hard work, but she’d grown to love the aging widower she’d known most of her life and his growing family. Life ran smoothly on the orange grove, which brought a sense of peace to her and her young daughter Faith’s lives.

      Verity hurried, convinced it was Helen at the door. She often came late to practices, especially if her precious three-month-old boppli had once again kept her up with night colic.

      “Well, it’s about time you got...” Verity’s playful words died in her throat at the sight of a tall well-built Englischer standing on the porch. He wore tight faded jeans and a white T-shirt that strained to cover his broad chest. A baseball cap perched on his long dishwater-blond hair advertised some brand of soft drink she’d never heard of.

      Her heart skipped a beat and then two. Overtly handsome men always made her nervous, like ants crawling all over her skin. This one made her extremely nervous. “Oh, I’m sorry... I thought you were Helen.” She took a quick survey of his smiling face and then glanced down at the sleeping dark-haired toddler he held. The pink-cheeked kind looked completely out of place next to the man’s firm biceps. “Are you looking for Albert or Solomon?”

      “Both.” He grinned. A dimple appeared in his cheek. “What are you doing here, Verity?”

      A chill rushed down her spine. The man’s words were spoken in the same husky voice that sometimes disturbed her dreams at night.

      “Leviticus?” It didn’t seem possible. Now that she took a good look he did seem slightly familiar, but nothing like the young Amish boy she’d loved and promised her heart to all those years ago. How many years had it been since Leviticus abandoned Pinecraft and their engagement plans? Nine, maybe ten? Yet here he was on his father’s doorstep, activating the nerves in her stomach.

      He flashed a full-blown smile at her, again revealing the familiar dimple near his left cheek. “No one’s called me Leviticus in a long time. My Englischer friends call me Levi.”

      Her angst against the man revived, even though she thought she’d forgiven him a long time ago. “I’m not one of your Englisch friends, Leviticus.” She tried hard but couldn’t manage to take her eyes off his suntanned face and the way his blue eyes twinkled behind familiar thick brown lashes.

      She detected an angry red scar running the length of his unshaven right cheek. Her gaze dropped to the blond stubble peppered with ginger covering his chin. When he’d left Pinecraft, there’d been no scar and not much stubble, for that matter. He’d left wearing the plain clothes associated with their strict faith. Today, the man he’d become seemed perfectly comfortable in his Englischer clothes and worn-out running shoes.

      Averting her eyes, she let him pass through the front door. There were so many reasons why she didn’t want him back in Pinecraft. Forefront in her mind was the way he’d broken her heart and abandoned their dream of a life together. So why is he back? She motioned him farther into the house. “Komm. Your СКАЧАТЬ