The Amish Spinster's Courtship Page 3

  “See, what did I tell you? Behave yourself in front of the children.” Still chuckling, her mother stepped out of her husband’s embrace. “Go see to your harnesses and buggy wheels and leave us in peace.”

  “There now, wife, I meant no harm,” Benjamin said. “And no disrespect to either of you,” he added, looking to Lovage.

  “I know that.” Lovage nodded, but avoided his gaze.

  It was true. In spite of the current situation, she was pleased that her mother had found someone who obviously adored her and could provide for her. It was only natural that mixing two large families into one would require adjustment. Her aunt Paula thought her sister Rosemary had lost her mind to accept the offer of a man with six children, five under his roof.

  “You must have chores of your own to do,” her mother told Benjamin.

  “If you say so, Rosebud,” he agreed. “Unless you need me here.”

  She smiled at him. “I do not. Now off with you, before you embarrass poor Lovage even more.” She watched him trudge away with a feigned sad expression. When the gate shut behind him, she turned to her daughter. “You mustn’t pay his silliness any mind. Benjamin is so pleased to have you with us. And you’re going to like it here,” she added.

  Lovage nodded.

  Leaving the home where she’d been born and grown up hadn’t been as difficult as Lovage had thought it might be. She could see that the move to a new place and a new, larger home that neither her mother nor Benjamin had shared with another spouse seemed the wisest course. It was too soon to know if she would like Delaware, but her mother clearly did. And Lovage was happy to be reunited with her sisters and mother, and her little brother.

  “It seems like a good house and community,” she said. “Of course, I haven’t met the new bishop and preachers yet. Or the other families.”

  “You will like them very well,” her mother said. “The sermons are short and pithy and our church members welcoming. Everyone has embraced us and they’re eager to meet you.

  “Now, to get back to what we were talking about before we were interrupted,” her mother continued. “Why is it that you have set your mind against being courted by a suitable young man now? A sweet and capable girl like you. You could have your pick if you’d just—”

  “Mam, please. Don’t talk like that.” She felt her cheeks grow warm. She knew what she was. Too tall, too lanky...too opinionated. But that wasn’t the point. “It’s not about me. It’s about you. A woman your age...in your condition,” she intoned.

  “In my condition?” The amusement seeped from her mother’s face and her chin firmed. “I am neither sick nor so decrepit that I can’t run my own household. I’m forty-five and carrying a child. It is not an illness. It’s a natural condition for a married woman and it’s a blessing. God has given Benjamin and me another life to cherish.”

  Lovage knew she blushed. To have such a conversation with her mother made her uncomfortable, but if she was determined to have it, have it they would. “A pregnancy at your age is considered high risk. I’m worried about you and it’s my duty to help you through this.”

  “Goose feathers! I’m as strong as a horse.” Chuckling, she picked up the basket she’d been using to gather herbs. “You’re the one who needs help, Lovage. And I would be neglecting my duty as your mother if I didn’t see you happily wed to a good man. I think you should take that young man’s offer and ride home with him from the softball game.”

  Lovage whipped around to look at her mother. “Ginger should not have told you. He wasn’t—” She knew her cheeks were burning bright. “He didn’t—Ginger should mind her own business.”

  Her mother headed for the garden gate. “It wasn’t Ginger. It was Bay who—”

  “How did Bay know Marshall asked me to ride home with him?” She crossed her arms obstinately. “I’m not going to, of course.”

  Her mother raised her brows under her broad-brimmed hat. “Marshall, is it? Your stepbrother Will’s friend? Nice-looking young man.” She made a clicking sound between her teeth. “And from a good family. I’ve met his grandmother, Lynita. Faithful woman. Knows how to work hard and live with joy.” She opened the gate. “A good choice for a suitor, Lovey.”

  “He’s not my suitor,” Lovage called as the gate swung shut, leaving her alone in the garden.

  * * *

  The following morning, Lovage made her way back to the garden, hoping to beat the full heat of the day. Her mother was letting out the seams on one of her dresses, and the younger girls had taken over the task of cleaning up the kitchen and starting the chicken and dumplings for the midday meal. Lovage had offered to plant the new seedlings Benjamin had bought, and to finish weeding around the fish pond.

  Family breakfast had been as noisy and satisfying as Lovage remembered. She approved of her mother’s new house, especially the large kitchen with its attached, open dining room. Benjamin’s twenty-two-year-old twins, Jacob and Joshua, who were apprenticed to a cabinetmaker, had built a fourteen-foot oak trestle table. The table provided enough room for all of them to eat together and this morning her brother, Jesse, who was ten, had declared it the finest dining table he’d ever eaten at.

  How she’d missed Jesse’s mischievous face in the months they’d been apart. He was brown-haired like her and her father, with green eyes, and his own special lopsided grin. That morning, Benjamin had promised to take Jesse to look at a pony for sale and the boy was so excited he could hardly sit still for grace, let alone eat his bacon and eggs. It was clear to Lovage that Jesse was very fond of his stepfather, and soon would begin to think of him as simply his dat. It made Lovage sad to think that eventually her little brother would barely remember their own father. She knew it was best for Jesse; it was just hard, no matter how much she liked Benjamin. But as her aunt Jane said, “Life moves on for the living. My brother is in heaven and beyond those earthly cares. You can’t stop change. You may as well embrace it.”

  Lovage gazed out over the garden. It had rained sometime in the night, and the soil was wet. The garden smelled deliciously of mint, sage and rosemary. Finding her rhythm in planting, Lovage soon discarded the digging trowel and used her fingers. She hiked up her skirt to keep the worst of the mud off it and knelt on a folded-up burlap bag as she carefully transplanted each basil and tarragon seedling.

  Herbs preferred cool weather, so July wasn’t the best time to put them in the ground, but Benjamin probably hadn’t realized that when he’d bought up the remainder of the neighbor’s greenhouse herb stock. Her mother wouldn’t have wanted to discourage him by rejecting his gift, so Lovage was determined to do her best to save the seedlings.

  On her hands and knees, with her skirt hiked up, she planted most of the tray. Then, when she had to stretch to reach the last of the open area in the bed, she reached too far and slipped on the wet topsoil. She went down on both elbows, throwing dirt onto the bodice and sleeves of her dress, as well as liberally covering both arms, elbow to wrist, with wet soil. “Atch!” she exclaimed, and spat the dirt from between her lips.

  “You okay?” came a male voice from behind her.

  Lovage froze, not knowing who the voice belonged to, though it seemed familiar. Then, realizing what she must look like, sprawled in the herb bed, covered in mud, she scrambled to rise. “Ya,” she called, “I’m fine. I...” In her effort to get up, she succeeded only in slipping again and falling forward into the dirt again. “Oh!” As she went down, her right hand flattened a small seedling, while her elbow took out two more. That was when a pair of strong male hands closed around her shoulders and lifted her to her feet.

  “You sure you’re all right?” he asked.

  She whirled around. Mortified, cheeks scalding, she raised her gaze to look directly into Marshall Byler’s amused eyes. “Oh,” she breathed.

  “Oh,” he said, managing, somehow, to make it sound flirty.

  “What...
what are you doing here?” she sputtered, taking a step back from him. Out of his arms. She glanced down at her dress and bare feet covered in dirt, and then back at him as she shoved her skirt down where it had gotten tangled in her apron. Which was now also muddy.

  He grinned and offered her a big blue handkerchief from his pocket. “You’ve got mud on your forehead,” he informed her. “Right here.” He tapped his own forehead in the center. “I can get it for you if you—”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” She snatched the handkerchief from him and dabbed at her forehead.

  “And...and your nose,” he said helpfully, pointing.

  Lovage rubbed her nose furiously with the blue fabric.

  He tipped the broad brim of his straw hat as if to get a better look at her. “To answer your question, I came to check on my harness. One of your sisters sent me out here to ask you. Bay, I think?”

  Lovage huffed. “I told you it would be five business days. Bay could have—” She suddenly realized that Bay had sent him out to the garden on purpose. Ginger was probably in on it. And their mother, as well, for all she knew. She blushed even harder and went back to scrubbing her nose with his handkerchief. “Bay shouldn’t have sent you out here. She could have looked up the work order. You only dropped it off two days ago.”

  “A good thing for you she did send me, because I don’t think you would have managed to get up anytime today.” He grinned, indicating the wet spot in the garden. “Not the way you were slipping and sliding in that mud.” Then he laughed, the sound deep and infectious.

  Lovage didn’t want to laugh. She knew that if she did, he’d take it as encouragement and continue his flirty talk. But she couldn’t help it. She looked down at her arms and dress again and began to laugh, sounding not like herself, but oddly enough, more like Ginger. “I think I would have managed,” she said, when she could talk again. “I’d have made it to my feet by noon.”

  His blue eyes danced. “Suppertime at the latest.”

  Still chuckling, she walked over to the pond, knelt and washed the worst of the mud off her arms. Next, she dipped her feet in, one at a time. Marshall watched as she wiped her wet hands on a relatively clean place on her apron. “Better?” she asked.

  “Somewhat,” he conceded.

  “Goot.” She met his gaze and it took her a moment to break free of it. “But you’ve made the trip for nothing.” She shrugged. “I told you the harness wouldn’t be done for at least five business days.”

  “Ne.” He held up one finger. “I remember exactly what your words were. You told me to come back in five days. You didn’t say the harness wouldn’t be done today.”

  “But it isn’t.”

  He made a show of appearing sad, thrusting his lower lip out in a pout. “A pity. I need it.”

  “If I could have fixed it for you, I would have, but it isn’t what I do. Ginger and my stepbrothers, they’re the harness workers. Benjamin has other work orders, people who came before you. They need their harnesses and halters and bridles, too. It wouldn’t be fair to fix yours out of turn.”

  Lovage glanced back at the muddy mess of an herb bed. She’d have to salvage as many of the plants as she could. But she wasn’t about to attempt it with Marshall as a witness. She turned away and walked down the path toward the gate, hoping he would follow. Hoping he would leave.

  “So...what you’re telling me is that you can’t fix my britchen strap?” he asked, following her. “Only your sister can.”

  “I can’t use the sewing machine. It takes a knack. Otherwise, you just break the thread. And sometimes the needle.”

  “Pity,” he said, walking two steps behind her. “You’ll be in over your head when we marry if you can’t sew.”

  She stopped short, whirled around and looked at him. “What did you just say?”

  “I said, if you can’t sew, it could be a problem. I’ve never known an Amish woman who couldn’t sew.” He knitted his brows. “How will you make shirts for me or baby clouts?”

  “Baby clouts? Who’s making baby clouts?” She looked up at him wide-eyed, wondering if the summer heat had gotten to his head. Except that it was still morning and not all that hot out. “I was talking about harness-making. My sister is apprenticing as a harness maker. I can sew. I don’t sew leather.” She caught her breath, flustered again. “And that’s not what I meant. You’re putting words in my mouth.” She dropped her hands to her hips. “What did you say about me being in over my head?”

  His smile widened. “I said you’d be in over your head when we marry if—”

  “What are you talking about, marry?” she interrupted. “I don’t know you. We’re not even—” She blushed again. “We’re not even walking out together.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” he said, interrupting her. “And that’s a problem. We’re not walking out yet.” He sidestepped around her and opened the gate, standing back and holding it for her. “And I think that’s important to our relationship. We should get to know each other before we take our vows. It’s the custom here in Kent County. We walk out together, court, marry. In that order.” He winked at her. “Is it different where you come from?”

  “Enough.” She raised her hands, palms out. “I’m not amused by you. We aren’t walking out together. We aren’t courting. And we certainly aren’t getting married. You came to get a harness mended. I waited on you. That’s it. That’s the only connection we have.”

  “Not exactly.” In an exaggerated motion with his hand, he indicated the garden behind them. “We’ve had this time together.”

  “What are you talking about now?” she asked, still flustered, wishing desperately that she wasn’t. She also wished he wasn’t so handsome. That his forearms weren’t so tanned and muscular. That his smile wasn’t so...beautiful.

  “And we’re neighbors,” he told her. “We have that connection.”

  “We are not neighbors. You live two miles away.”

  His grin widened to crinkle his entire face. Marshall had a high forehead and a dimple in the center of his square chin. With his broad shoulders and self-assured manner, he was one of the most attractive young men she’d ever met. Which made her nervous. She wasn’t used to attention from such a cute guy and she half suspected that he was poking fun at her. Because surely he wasn’t really interested in her.

  Once, at a frolic when she was fifteen, a cute boy had caught her eye and she’d wanted him to notice her. She’d even broken her own rule and smiled at him, trying to flirt casually like Ginger did. It worked. The boy had noticed her, all right, but he’d only turned to a friend and whispered something she couldn’t quite make out. She had heard the word broomstick, then they’d both laughed, obviously at her. She’d cried into her pillow half the night, and she still remembered the slight painfully. Not for all the apples in an orchard would she make the same mistake a second time.

  “Ah,” Marshall continued, holding up his finger to her again. “You asked someone about me. You wanted to know where I lived, which means you are interested in me.” He pointed at her. “Admit it. You like me.”

  “I do not like you,” she protested.

  “You don’t like me?” He opened his arms. “What have I done to deserve that? I’m a nice fellow. Ask anyone. They’ll tell you. Your brother Will likes me. He and I have become good friends.”

  “Will is my stepbrother,” she corrected.

  Marshall removed his straw hat and pushed back his dark hair. It was nice hair, neatly trimmed and thick. “That’s what he said when I asked him about you last night.”

  He smiled at her and she felt her pulse quicken. He did have a sweet smile, a dangerous smile that made her stumble over her words and confuse her thinking.

  Marshall met her gaze. “I wanted to see you again,” he said softly. “That’s why I came to check on my harness. I was hoping to see you, Lovey.”

&n
bsp; Suddenly, the oxygen was sucked out of the air. The sound of her pet name on his lips made her throat tighten. But she liked it. She did. Marshall was teasing her again, wasn’t he? A boy like him couldn’t like a girl like her.

  Could he?

  “I wanted to see you and ask if you’re coming to the softball game tomorrow night,” he went on.

  “Maybe,” she said quickly, still flustered. He just kept looking at her. “I...I haven’t decided yet.”

  “I see.” Marshall nodded. “Well, I hope you do. And if you do, will you let me drive you home in my buggy? It’s a nice buggy...”

  It had been a long time since anyone had asked Lovage to ride home in a buggy with him. So long that she didn’t know how to respond. Lovage bit down on her lower lip.

  Then she heard the sound of feminine giggling. She and Marshall both glanced in the direction of a hedge of blueberry bushes and she spotted her sisters Bay, Tara and Nettie all peeking around the hedge, watching them.

  Lovage quickly looked back at Marshall. He was waiting, smiling. He didn’t give a lick that they had an audience.

  “Come on, Lovey.” He reached out and touched her elbow. “It’ll be fun. Say you’ll ride home with me Saturday night.”

  She swallowed hard and grasped at the first answer that came to mind. “I might,” she told him. “If you’re on your best behavior.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Marshall walked past her, his stride long and powerful. “It’s a date,” he said, loudly enough not only for her sisters behind the blueberry bushes to hear, but possibly everyone up at the house.

  “But, Marshall,” she called after him. “I didn’t say—”