The Amish Bride. Emma Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ yet thirty, Vadder. It’s not as if no girl would have me.”

      “I’ll fetch the coffee and apple pie,” Ellen offered. She began clearing away the plates while Simeon wagged a finger at Micah.

      “You know I’m but speaking what’s true. Deny it if you can. Neither of you have been putting your minds to finding a good wife. And you must marry. It’s not decent that you don’t. I’ve talked to you until I’m blue in the face, and I’ve prayed on it. What came to me was that we didn’t have to look far to find the answer to at least one of our problems.”

      “Jah.” Ellen’s mother leaned forward on her elbows and pushed back her plate. “And you’ve worried about your sons no more than I’ve lost sleep over our girl. She should have been a wife years ago, should have filled our house with grandchildren. She’s a good daughter, a blessing to us in our old age. But it’s time she found a husband, and none better than one of your boys.”

      “I agree,” Ellen’s father said. “I’ve known Neziah and Micah since they were born. I could ask no more for her than she wed such a good man as either of them.” He smiled and nodded his approval. “The pity is, we didn’t think of this solution sooner.”

      “No solution if Ellen’s not willing,” Neziah pronounced. His serious gaze met hers and held it. “Are you in favor of this plan or are you just afraid to speak up and turn us out the door with our hats in hand?”

      Everyone looked at her again, including the two children, and Ellen felt a familiar sinking feeling. What did she want? She didn’t know. She stood in the center of the kitchen feeling foolish and clutching the pie like a drowning woman with a lifeline. “I...Well...”

      “Is the thought of marrying one of us distasteful to you?” Neziah asked when she couldn’t answer.

      He had none of the showy looks of his brother. Neziah’s face was too planed, his brow too pronounced, and his mouth too thin to be called handsome. Not that he was ugly; he wasn’t that. But there was always something unnerving about his dark, penetrating gaze.

      Neziah was only three years older than she was, but he looked closer to ten. Hints of gray were beginning to tint his walnut-brown hair. The sudden loss of his wife and mother in the same accident three years ago had struck him hard. Maybe it was the responsibility of being both father and mother to two young children that stamped him with an air of heaviness.

      “We’re all friends here,” Neziah continued. “No one will think less of you if this isn’t something you want to consider.”

      Micah relaxed in his chair. “I say we’ve thrown this at her too fast. I wouldn’t blame her for balking.” He met Ellen’s gaze. “Give yourself a few days to think it over, Ellen. What do you say?”

      “Jah,” Ellen’s mother urged, rising to take the pie from her hands. “Say you will think about it, daughter.”

      “You know your mother and I wouldn’t even consider the idea if we thought it was wrong for you.” Her father beamed, and Ellen’s resistance melted.

      What could be wrong with thinking it over? As Simeon and her dat had said, either of the Shetler brothers would make a respectable husband. She would be a wife, a woman with her own home to manage, possibly children. She took a deep breath, feeling as if she were about to take a plunge off the edge of a rock quarry into deep water far below. She actually felt a little lightheaded. “I will,” she said. “I’ll think on the whole idea, and I will pray about it. Surely, if it is the Lord’s plan for me, He’ll ease my mind.” She held up her finger. “But my agreement is to think on the whole idea. Nothing more.”

      Simeon smacked his hands together. “Goot. It is for the best. You will come to realize this. And whichever one you pick, I will consider you the daughter I never had.”

      Ellen turned toward Simeon, intent on making it clear to her neighbor that she hadn’t agreed to walk out with either of his sons when the little boys kicked up a commotion.

      “Me!” Asa and Joel both reached for the pie in the center of the table. “Me!” they cried in unison.

      “Me first!” Joel insisted.

      “Nay! Me!” Asa bellowed.

      “I knew you’d see it our way, Ellen,” Micah said above the voices of his nephews. He rose from his chair. “I was so sure you’d agree that I brought fishing poles. You always used to like fishing. Maybe you and me could wander down to the creek and see if we could catch a fish or two before dark.”

      Ellen looked at Micah, then the table of seated guests, flustered. “Go fishing? Now?”

      “Oh, go on, Ellen,” her father urged. “We can get our own pie and I’ll help your mother clean up the dishes.” He glanced at Micah. “Smart thinking. Best strike while the iron is hot, boy. Get the jump on Neziah and put your claim in first.”

      Mischief gleamed in Micah’s blue eyes. “It’ll get you out of here.” He motioned toward the back door. “Come on, Ellen. You know you want to. I’ll even bait the hook for you.”

      She cut her eyes at him. “As if I need the help. If I remember correctly, it was me who taught you how to tickle trout.”

      “She did,” Micah conceded to the others, then he returned his attention to her. “But I’ve learned a few things about fishing since then. You don’t stand a chance of catching the first fish or the most.”

      “Don’t I?” Ellen retorted. “Talk’s cheap but it never put fish on the table.” Still bantering with him, she took off her kapp, tied on her scarf and followed him out of the house.

      * * *

      Fifteen minutes later, Micah stepped out on a big willow that had fallen into the creek. The leaves had long since withered, but the trunk was strong. Barring a flood, the willow would provide a sturdy seat for fishermen for years. And the eddy in the curve of the bank was the best place to catch fish.

      He turned and offered Ellen his hand. “Don’t worry,” he said, “it’s safe enough.” He had both fishing poles in his free hand, while Ellen carried the can with the bait.

      The rocky stream was wide, the current gentle but steady as the water snaked through a wooded hollow that divided his father’s farm from her dat’s. When they were children, he, Neziah and Ellen had come here to fish often. Now, he sometimes brought his nephews, Joel and Asa, but Neziah didn’t have the time. Sometimes the fishing was good, and sometimes he went home with nothing more than an easy heart, but it didn’t matter. Micah thought there was often more of God’s peace to be found here in the quiet of wind and water and swaying trees than in the bishop’s sermons.

      “Thanks for asking me to come fishing, Micah,” Ellen said as she followed him cautiously out onto the wide trunk. “I needed to get out of there, and I couldn’t think of a way to make a clean getaway without offending anyone.”

      “Jah,” Micah agreed. “I wanted to get away, too. Not from supper. That was great. But my dat. When he takes a crazy notion, he’s hard to rein in.”

      “So you think that’s what it is? His idea that you and Neziah should both court me, and that I would choose between you? It’s a crazy notion?”

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