His Amish Choice Read online

  If only it were that simple. Right now, Lizzie didn’t want to marry Eli. And she certainly couldn’t believe Eli wanted to marry her—not after the way he’d abandoned her. But sweet little Annie had always had such a calm, quiet spirit. Honest and trusting, the girl always exemplified a childlike faith in the good of others. Lizzie never wanted to see that faith shattered. But more than that, Lizzie had to set a good example for her sisters. With Mamm gone, they deserved to feel safe and loved. They were both looking to her for guidance and she didn’t want to let them down.

  “The Lord wants us to forgive everyone. We should never judge others, because we don’t know what’s truly in their heart or what their circumstances are. Plus we each have our own faults to repent from,” Lizzie spoke in a measured tone, believing what she said, though she still struggled to apply it to Eli.

  Annie nudged Marty with her elbow. “See? I told ya so.”

  Marty accepted this without question and Lizzie breathed with relief. She quickly finished her chore. Upstairs, she tucked the girls into bed, feeling like a hypocrite. She told her sisters to forgive, yet she hadn’t done so herself. But honestly, she didn’t know how. Saying and doing it were two different things. Forgiveness wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Especially when she’d been hurt so badly.

  She secured the house for the night and turned out the kerosene lights. Alone in her room, she prayed for help, but received no answers. Lying in the darkness, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but her mind kept racing. If Eli hadn’t left, they’d likely be married now. They would probably have one or two children too. How different their lives might have been. They could have been happy and in love and working for the good of their familye. Instead, she felt disillusioned and distrustful. But it did no good to dwell on such things. It would not change the present. Her familye needed her and that was enough.

  Punching her pillow, she turned on her side and closed her eyes, gritty with fatigue. She tried to rest, but it was a long time coming.

  In the morning, she felt drowsy and grouchy. Determined not to be cross with the girls, she kissed each one on the forehead to wake them up. She ensured they were dressed and sitting at the table eating a bowl of scrapple—a mixture of corn meal, sausage and eggs—before she lit the kerosene lamp and stepped out onto the back porch.

  Crisp darkness filled the air as she crossed the yard. The chilling breeze hinted that winter was not far away. In the waning shadows, she tossed grain to the chickens, then gathered the eggs into a wire basket. When she went to feed the pigs, she found the chore already done, the trough filled with fresh water.

  Oh, no. This could only mean one thing.

  Turning, she went to the barn. A faint light gleamed from beneath the double doors as she stepped inside. A lamp sat on the railing of Ginger’s stall. The chestnut palomino was old, but Daed still used her to pull the buggy when Billie was lame. Thinking Billie needed a few more days of rest, Lizzie planned to use Ginger today, to get to church. It was too bad they’d lost their larger buggy-wagon in the accident. Now, they’d have to use their older, smaller buggy.

  “Easy, girl.” Eli stood bent over the mare’s left back hoof. He wore a plain white shirt and black suspenders, his nice Sunday frock jacket hanging on a peg nearby.

  Releasing the animal’s leg, he patted her rump as he stood up straight. Then, he flinched. “Lizzie-bee! You startled me.”

  She bit her tongue, forcing herself not to reprimand him. It would do no good. The name Lizzie-bee was too embedded in their past history.

  “I came to feed the animals. I didn’t expect you to be here today,” she said.

  He shrugged. “I figured you would still need help even on the Sabbath.”

  Leading Ginger out of her stall, he directed the mare over to the buggy. Glancing at the other stalls, Lizzie saw that Eli had already fed Billie and Daed’s six Percheron draft horses. And judging from the two tall canisters sitting near the door, he’d already done the milking too. It appeared he was taking his promise to the bishop very seriously.

  “Have you eaten?” she asked, feeling obligated to use good manners.

  “Ja, my mudder fixed a big meal for Daed and me. I’ll have the horse hitched up in just a few minutes, then I’ll drive you to church,” he said.

  He didn’t look at her while he put the collar on the horse. Ginger stood perfectly still, knowing this routine by heart.

  “That won’t be necessary. You’re very kind, but I can drive the maed myself,” Lizzie said.

  He paused, holding the saddle lacings in his big hands. “I...I don’t think that’s a good idea. You were nearly killed just a few days ago and I...I assured the bishop that I’d look after all of you.”

  His voice caught on the words and he turned away, but not before Lizzie saw his trembling hands. Or had she imagined that? Why did he seem so upset by the accident?

  “Ne, you told him you’d look after the farm. That’s not the same as driving us to church,” she said.

  He nodded, accepting her logic. “Still, I feel responsible for you. I don’t want to have to tell Jeremiah that I was derelict in my duty.”

  Hmm. Maybe he was right. The horror of the accident came rushing back and she realized she wasn’t eager to climb into a buggy again. If her fear distracted her while she was driving, it could put her sisters in danger. Perhaps it would be better to let Eli drive them for a time. But she hated feeling like a burden almost as much as she hated to depend on him.

  “You needn’t feel obligated. I’ve driven a buggy many times before,” she argued half-heartedly.

  “I know that. You’re a capable, strong-minded woman, but I’d feel better if you’d let me drive today. Just until Jeremiah is out of the hospital.” His gaze brushed over the clean gauze she had taped over her forehead. She hated wearing a bandage and would be glad when the wound healed enough to remove the three tiny stitches. No doubt, they’d leave a small scar to remind her that Gott had saved her familye’s lives.

  “Komm on, let me drive you,” he said, his voice coaxing.

  Oh, she knew that look of his. The calm demeanor. The slightly narrowed eyes. The softly spoken words and stubborn tilt that said he was going to do what he wanted one way or the other. Some things never changed.

  But she had changed. Those soft feelings for Eli had been put away, and she wouldn’t fall back into old habits, like smiling at him when he behaved this way. It was time for this conversation to end.

  “All right, you can drive today. I’ll go get the kinder.” She picked up a canister of milk and lugged it across the yard toward the well house. Fed by a cold mountain stream coming out of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, the stone bath had been built by Daed when the familye first moved to Colorado.

  Once inside, Lizzie set the heavy can into the chilled water and realized her hands were shaking from her exertions. When she turned, she found Eli right behind her with the second can.

  “They’re too heavy for you to carry,” he said.

  Yes, they were, but she could manage. With her father gone, she’d do whatever she must. Feeling suddenly awkward, she scooted out of Eli’s way as he placed the second canister into the water bath.

  “Danke,” she said before hurrying to the house.

  The girls were standing on the front porch waiting, their kapps, dresses and aprons neatly in place. They smiled, looking so sweet and innocent that a feeling of overwhelming love filled Lizzie’s chest.

  “We even washed the breakfast dishes,” Annie said with a big smile, handing Lizzie the basket they would take with them.

  “You did? You’re so helpful.” Lizzie smiled back, wiping a smudge of strawberry jam away from the girl’s upper lip.

  The clatter of hooves caused them all to turn. Eli drove the buggy toward them, his straw hat, vest and jacket now in place. Inwardly, Lizzie took a deep, startled breath. He looked mor
e handsome than a man had a right to be and it pierced her to the core.

  As he pulled Ginger to a halt and hopped out of the buggy, Annie scurried behind Lizzie, as if to hide.

  “Ne, I don’t want to ride in the buggy. Can’t we walk today?” the child asked, gripping folds of Lizzie’s dress as she peeked around her legs with caution.

  “Ja, I would rather walk today too.” Marty’s eyes were also creased with fear as she sidled up against Lizzie.

  Taking both girls’ hands in her own, Lizzie knelt in front of them to meet their eyes. “It’s too far to walk, bopplin. We’ll have to ride. But I will be with you and the Lord will make sure we are safe.”

  Annie shook her head, her breathing coming fast, as though she’d been running. Lizzie knew a panic attack when she saw one. She pulled both girls into her arms and gave them a reassuring hug.

  Eli stepped up onto the porch, removed his straw hat and crouched down so he could meet Annie’s gaze. “Ginger is an old, gentle horse and she can’t go very fast. You like her, don’t you?”

  “Ja.” Annie nodded.

  “And you trust me, right?”

  A pause, then another nod.

  “Then I promise to pull far over onto the shoulder of the road and drive extra careful so we don’t have another accident. If I hear a car coming up fast behind us, I’ll pull completely off the road until they have passed us by. I’ll take good care of all of us, this I promise,” he said.

  A long silence followed as Annie drew her eyebrows together, signaling that she was thinking it over. Lizzie didn’t know what she’d do if her sisters refused to get into the buggy. It was eight miles to the Geingeriches’ farm—and eight miles they’d have to travel back. If they walked, they would arrive late, sweaty and tired. And the evenings were too chilly to walk home late at night. But she hated Eli’s word choice. There had been a time not so long ago when she had trusted him and he had made promises to her too. Promises she’d naively believed with all her heart...until he’d broken them.

  “All right. We will ride,” Annie finally said in a tone of resignation.

  Eli smiled wide, placed his hat back on his head, then picked the girl up. Taking Marty’s hand, he walked with them to the buggy and set them gently inside. Lizzie was right behind them. Watching his tenderness with her sisters brought a poignant ache to her heart. Without Lizzie asking, he helped her into the carriage too, holding on to her forearm a bit longer than necessary. The warmth of his hand tingled over her skin and she pulled away as quickly as possible.

  When he was settled in the driver’s seat, he took the leather reins and slapped them against the palomino’s back.

  “Schritt,” he called.

  The horse walked forward, settling into an easy trot.

  Sitting stiffly in her seat, Lizzie adjusted her long skirts and scrunched her knees as far away from Eli’s as possible. She thought about her discussion with him the day before. He’d said he wanted to stay in Riverton. That he wanted to live the Amish way of life. But what if he changed his mind? She told herself she didn’t care. He meant nothing to her now except that he was a member of the Gmay. So why did the thought of him leaving again make her feel so sad and empty inside?

  * * *

  Eli turned off the pavement and headed down the dirt road leading to the Geingeriches’ farm. Another buggy and horse were right in front of them, with several more following behind in a short convoy. Eli followed their pace. Each familye waved and greeted one another like the best of friends. A faint mist had settled across the valley, but he knew the morning sun would soon burn it off and all would be clear by late afternoon when they began their journey home.

  His parents should already be here. Joining them for meetings made him feel almost normal again. They were so happy to have him home that he felt good to be here. But he still couldn’t help wondering if he’d made a wrong choice by returning to Riverton. He wanted to be here. He really did. But he couldn’t seem to get Shannon off his mind. Her smile. Her scent. The way she’d begged him to save her life the night of the drunk driving accident. And then the stricken look on her parents’ faces at the cemetery when they had buried their only child.

  When the white frame house came into view, Eli breathed a sigh of relief. He’d promised the girls they’d be safe on their journey to church and he was grateful that he’d been able to keep his word. Too many automobiles flew way too fast down the roads. With drivers talking on their cell phones or texting, he could understand why the Amish were nervous as they drove their horse-drawn buggies and wagons. What was so important on the phone that it was worth risking someone’s life? He’d had a cell phone when he’d lived among the Englisch, but he’d only used it when absolutely necessary. He’d found them a poor substitute for building relationships face-to-face. He was just grateful that a worse tragedy hadn’t struck the Beiler familye and Jeremiah would recover from the accident.

  Turning the horse into the main yard, he pulled up where two teenage boys were directing traffic. A long row of black buggies had already been parked along the fence line. Eli waited his turn, then pulled up as instructed.

  “I can unhitch your horse,” one of the boys offered.

  “Danke.” Eli handed the lines over, watching as the two teenagers removed the harness in preparation of leading the mare over to a field where she could graze and water with other horses.

  Eli helped the girls out of the buggy. He noticed how Lizzie avoided his hand by gripping the edge of the carriage. She didn’t meet his eyes as she smoothed her apron, then reached back into the buggy for a basket that was neatly covered with a clean dish towel. He had no idea what was hidden beneath, but surmised it was something tasty for their noon meal later on. The thought of spending the day with Lizzie made him feel warm. If he hadn’t gone to Denver, they probably would have married. They’d be taking their familye to church like any other couple. But then he wouldn’t have met and loved Shannon, and he couldn’t forget that she had meant the world to him.

  “Lizzie!”

  A young woman with golden hair was busy spreading a cloth over one of the long tables set up outside. Eli didn’t recognize her and wondered if she was a newcomer to the Gmay. She stood beneath the tall spread of a maple tree laden with leaves of bright yellow. The autumn air had a distinct crispness to it, but was still pleasant enough to eat outside.

  As she approached, the woman arched her back, displaying an obvious rounding of her abdomen. Eli figured she must be about six months pregnant.

  “Guder mariye, Abby. How are you feeling today?” Lizzie asked as the woman waddled toward them.

  Ach, so this was Abby! Eli had heard all about her from his parents.

  She rested a hand on her belly as Jakob Fisher joined them, taking her arm in a protective gesture. Before he’d left Riverton, Eli had known Jakob and his first wife, Susan, and their two small children, Reuben and Ruby. Jakob was older than Eli and they’d never been close friends, but Eli was sad to learn that Susan had died in childbirth while he was gone. Jakob had married Abby a year earlier and now they were expecting their first child together.

  “I am well. The doctor has told me I’m perfectly healthy and should deliver just after the New Year,” Abby said.

  “Ach, you may deliver early. Wouldn’t it be fun to have a Christmas baby?” Lizzie asked, her voice filled with jubilation.

  Jakob smiled wide. “Ja, that would be the best Christmas gift ever.”

  Abby just beamed, her face glowing with an ethereal beauty that seemed to accompany every new mother as she worked hand in hand with Gott to create a new life.

  “Hallo, Eli.” Jakob nodded to him. “I would like to introduce you to my wife, Abby.”

  Eli smiled and nodded at the pretty woman. “I’m so glad to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” she said. “I heard you are looking out for the Beilers while Jeremia
h is laid up.”

  “Ja, the bishop thought it would be best,” Eli replied with a half smile.

  “Because of the accident, I heard in town that they’re planning to put up more Amish buggy signs along the roads,” Jakob said.

  “Ach, it’s about time,” Abby said.

  “Ja, that would be gut. I just hope it gets the drivers to slow down,” Lizzie murmured.

  Eli hoped so too. He hated the thought of any other members of their Gmay getting hurt.

  The women stepped ahead of the men, moving off toward the kitchen. Marty and Annie joined Jakob’s two children, racing across the front lawn in carefree abandon. Church Sunday was a time to worship Gott, but it was also a time to socialize and relax from daily labors. Both adults and children alike usually looked forward to this day with happiness. But not Eli. Not when he glanced over and saw several older women watching him, their heads bent close as they chatted together. He couldn’t help wondering if he was the topic of their conversation, especially when Marva Geingerich eyed him with a look of revulsion.

  “Don’t mind old Mrs. Geingerich. She doesn’t approve of anyone,” Jakob whispered.

  Eli jerked, realizing that Jakob had stopped walking and was watching him closely. “Does my nervousness show that much?”

  Jakob nodded, his mouth turned up in a generous smile. “I’m afraid so. When my Susan died, Marva didn’t approve of me either, simply because I was alone with two young kinder to raise. It didn’t matter that I had no control over my wife’s death or that I was grieving. Marva seems to be able to find anything and everything to disapprove of.”

  When Jakob put it like that, it sounded rather silly, but Eli didn’t laugh.

  “You must have been brokenhearted to lose Susan. How did you recover?” Eli asked, eager to know how to ease the gnawing pain he felt deep inside for Shannon.

  “I’ll let you know if I ever do. Right now, I doubt a person can fully heal from losing someone they have loved. But you have to keep living. And the Lord blessed me with a second chance at happiness. I never thought it possible, but I’m so deeply in love with Abby and I can’t imagine living life without her.” Jakob’s gaze rested on Abby, his eyes filled with such wonder and devotion that Eli felt a lance of jealousy pierce his heart. Surely there would be no third chance for him.