Courting Caleb, page 19
Caleb,
I’ve got to say goodbye—never an easy proposition, but I wanted to tell you that you were close in thinking that I am my cousin Claus. But no, not Claus. He gives the tangible gifts, but equally valuable are the gifts that you cannot see. Love. Peace. Hope. Blackberry Falls is blessed with these gifts as are both you and Abigail.
I leave you my pack to use as Gott directs you. Look for me once more wherever love abounds. And remember—
Love waits for no man.
Valentine
* * *
Phillip was glad to have a few minutes to talk with Joshua as the two sat down to a hearty breakfast that John Stolfus had prepared.
“Be you nervous?” Joshua asked after washing down a bite of hotcake with a solid glassful of milk.
“Jah, in some ways—but I love your mamm and there is no nervousness in that.”
Joshua nodded as Phillip went on. “I want you to know, Josh, that I am nervous about you and me. I don’t mean to kumme in and act like I’m becoming your fater. Not until you want that. . . .”
Joshua put down his fork. “But I do want that. Everyone else seems to have a fater—even Tad. And I have kumme to trust you. . . .”
Phillip smiled. “Then please call me Fater or Daed or whatever you wish! And Joshua, I will be glad to call you sohn. I should have asked you earlier, but are you—do I have your permission to marry your mamm?”
“Jah! ”
From that moment, Phillip knew he had a relationship with the buwe that would hold and grow.
* * *
Caleb knocked softly on the upstairs door where he thought Abigail was dressing. Tabitha opened it a crack. “Nee—she’s getting ready.”
“I know,” Caleb said in hushed tones. “I only need five minutes.”
He could see Tabitha consider.
“Please,” he said.
“Five, and not a second more.”
“Jah . . .” Tabitha slipped past him as he entered the room and looked around in surprise.
Abigail sat in the center of a big, beautiful bed. She was dressed only in a lacy shift and her hair flowed free around her like a waterfall.
“You’re so beautiful.”
“You’re not supposed to see me like this.”
“Ach, I hope for a lifetime of seeing you like this.”
She laughed joyfully and he went over to sit beside her on the large bed. “I have something for you.”
“What is it?”
“A valentine.” He swallowed. “The kind Birchbark might give.” He handed her the heart-shaped white paper that he’d prepared the nacht before and watched as she read it.
“They’re love promises.” He shrugged when she was quiet; then she began to read out loud.
“‘I promise to always support you in your art and to always value your work. I promise to always expect the best of you, believing that I will hold naught against you and will promise to end our spats with making love. . . .’” She looked up at him.
“Ach, Caleb. I hope we . . . spat a lot.”
He smiled and leaned forward to kiss her slowly, then with more intensity, but a knock on the door and Tabitha’s entrance made him sigh and pull away.
“Now, out!” Tabitha ordered. “You only have fifteen minutes left to get ready, so hurry. Mercy is already dressed.”
He smiled back at Abigail, then hurried to make his own preparations for the day.
* * *
Phillip glanced up and saw Mercy straightening her blue dress and looking nervous. He got to his feet on the hardwood floor and crossed to her. Then he folded her into his arms and rocked her softly.
“You look beautiful.” Phillip found the curve of her neck and began to kiss her intently.
“Phillip, stop,” she whispered frantically. “Someone will see.”
“Mmmm, then I have the perfect solution.” He took her hand. “Kumme with me, my sweet.”
He led her carefully down a side hall away from the mammoth kitchen and opened a tall, slim door. He tried the knob and pulled her inside. Then he closed the door.
“Phillip, what? Where are—”
“In the downstairs linen closet, if you must know.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you and want to give you the perfect wedding gift.”
“What is it?” Her voice sounded cautious until he found her mouth once more. Then he pressed a piece of rolled paper into her hands.
“I’ll tell you what it is. It’s a deed, in your sweet name, to a fifty-acre piece of fertile farmland that I pray Gott will bless. We can build a new cabin and you will have a room to make your soaps, but only if you want. I can well provide for both you and Joshua.”
“Ach, Phillip, I know you can even without the deed.” She stretched up to kiss his lips and he groaned in response, holding her close.
* * *
Abigail sat facing Caleb with Mercy and Phillip seated next to them. There was a hush over the large community as they listened to the bishop’s words of admonition, hope, and most especially, Gott.
Abigail barely heard the words of the three-hour service. It was as if there were only she and Caleb in the whole world. And then the bishop asked for their pledges and she spoke clear and true of what she would do to honor both Gott and her husband. And then Caleb did the same.
Caleb took her hand and they were led to the eck, that corner table so beautifully decorated where both couples could greet their guests and give thanks to each person gathered.
The day went on and they played the usual games and ate. But finally everyone left for home. Abigail had made tentative plans to stay at the Stolfus haus for their wedding nacht. But Caleb took her hand and spoke gently.
“Are you too tired to geh to Birchbark’s?”
Abigail looked at him in surprise. “Where?”
“You know, Birchbark’s cabin. He’s gone now, I think, but I have a feeling he’d be glad to let us stay there.”
Abigail reached to feel his head. “Were you drinking moonshine?”
She felt Caleb’s bright blue eyes search her face, but he shook his head. “I think you will be surprised, my love, by the changes that have been made there.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Jah. He left me a note that said, ‘Look for me once more wherever love abounds.’ And surely love will overflow on our wedding night.” He bent and gently swept her off her feet and up into his arms.
“Caleb!”
“Shhh, do you remember my valentine?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.
“Jah.” She giggled.
“Then let’s pretend that we just had a spat. . . .”
Epilogue
It was high spring, and Blackberry Falls was bursting with an abundance of new life. The Amisch knew that Gott breathed through every tender shoot or bud or tree.
Abigail sat by Mercy, their bare feet in the creek that ran from the falls. They were taking a moment to cool off after spending all morning planting their kitchen gardens. But soon, talk drifted from heirloom seeds to life and love.
“Phillip is almost done with the cabin,” Mercy said. “And I have been spending as much free time as we have with Joshua. He calls Phillip Fater and I think we will all continue to grow together.”
Abigail nodded.
“You’re not listening.” Mercy sighed.
“I’m sorry,” Abigail said.
She looked out onto the water and saw the ducks and their ducklings. The placid scene was soothing.
“I’ve been helping Grace Fisher lately,” Abigail offered.
“I’ve heard. Is there anything I can do?”
“Nee, but I think she has difficulty running the store as well as caring for the kinner. I’ve been bringing her pots to paint. I think working on art helps relax her.”
“Then I’ll take her some seeds. Phillip has a huge collection. Now tell me why you’re so quiet?”
Abigail wiggled her toes in the chill water, then looked up to the blue sky to praise Derr Herr.
“I’m going to have a boppli.”
“What?” Mercy cried with excitement. She stretched to hug her sister. “Does Caleb know?”
“Jah.”
“And what does he say?”
Abigail smiled, a secret smile that spoke of love and trust and passion. She remembered how Caleb’s blue eyes had darkened with pleasure when she’d told him about the boppli.
“He was . . . full of love.” Abigail knew he spoke the truth.
Please read on for a peek at
Marrying Matthew
Book One of
The Amish Mail-Order Groom Series
by Kelly Long
Prologue
Blackberry Falls, PA
WANTED: An Amish Mail-Order Groom. Age 20–35. Must be willing to live in remote Appalachia and build life in said community. Must love books, horses, and possess good teeth. Appearance must be tolerable at least, though bride would favor a gut mind over looks. Must understand a woman’s sensibilities and not be judgmental. Must realize that Gott is the Third in a marriage. Reply to . . .
Twenty-year-old Tabitha Stolfus knew that she was both the sole heir of her fater’s company and his sole lament.
“If only you’d been born a buwe,” he’d wail at times. “Or if only you’d marry! Why can’t you marry, Tabby? And why must you be so headstrong?”
Tabitha had heard the words so often, she could almost put them to song. But she had finally had enough and had taken out an ad in the Renova Record, a small Englisch and Amisch newspaper far from her home in the Allegheny Mountains.
If I’m to have a husband, she’d considered, let it be some man who isn’t so familiar with what wealth Stolfus Lumber and Woodworking means. Then I will make sure he meets the qualifications that I lay out—not my fater’s.
The idea she’d whispered to herself took root in her mind and grew, and soon a detailed ad was submitted to the far-off Record. And, to her surprise, because she’d never actually heard of a mail-order groom, an Amisch man responded.... Rather coolly, she thought, but nonetheless a response....
She’d kept the letter in the bosom of her shift beneath her carefully pinned collar, and she occasionally slid out the paper to read, trying hard to spot anything suspicious that might lie within the words. But even she had to admit that Matthew King sounded much to her liking. He didn’t seem to know about Stolfus Lumber and Woodworking and he didn’t seem to possess the self-interest common to some of the local men who’d tried to win her hand . . . and her purse. Jah, Matthew King would do just fine....
* * *
“Have you lost your mind, big bruder?”
Matthew King shot his younger sibling, Caleb, a wry glance, then resumed packing. “I’ve told you—her da runs one of the best woodworking outfits in the mountains.”
Caleb snorted. “Then geh and ask to apprentice with him. You don’t need to do something narrisch like marrying his headstrong dochder. I’ve heard she’s as wild as a colt and not exactly marriage material.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m sick of pounding out the most basic of furniture. I want to learn what only her fater can teach—the art and craftsmanship of woodworking. And Herr Stolfus doesn’t favor taking on apprentices. Marrying the girl is incidental. . . .”
* * *
As pouring rain thrummed on his back and dripped from the brim of his hat, Matthew recalled the words he’d spoken to his bruder with a faint lift of his lips. Then he swiped his arm across his wet face for about the tenth time that morning. It had been raining steadily since he’d left home three days before as he and his hulking guide made their way deep into the Allegheny Mountains, the foothills of Appalachia. During their trek, Matthew had wondered idly if Blackberry Falls was simply a myth. However, there was nothing mythlike about the big-framed Amisch man who was leading him. Abner, as he’d introduced himself with a massive paw of a hand, spoke simply.
“I’m Abner Mast. Right-hand man of Herr Stolfus and his dochder’s guardian. I’ve been responsible for ensuring her safety since she was but a child.”
Matthew nodded, sensing that there was a test somewhere in the aulder man’s words, so he kept silent.
Abner grunted after a moment, then growled over the cadence of the rain. “I don’t hold with what the maid is doing, marrying blind, and an outsider at that. But I guard her secrets well, so keep that in yer head, buwe, for I’ll not see her harmed in any way.”
Matthew realized that it would be of little use to say that he’d never harmed a woman. He could only imagine what rabbit trails such a comment would produce in auld Abner’s mind, so once more, he remained quiet.
“Ya don’t have much to say fer yerself, buwe. Nothing wrong with a man keeping his own counsel—I’ll give ya that—but still water runs deep, and Blackberry Falls will not easily welcome a stranger, no matter who he’s kumme to marry.”
“Danki,” Matthew said lightly; then he was distracted by a stand of virgin sugar maple near the muddy trail. He put out a hand and touched the bark of the nearest tree with something akin to a caress.
Abner grunted in obviously reluctant approval. “Well, ya touch that tree like ya would a woman, so perhaps ya ain’t so strange.”
Matthew smiled, unconcerned by the other man’s dire attitude. Here was virgin timber, and there would be men who knew how best to work it. Any thought of Tabitha Stolfus drifted from his mind as he turned his face upward into the rain and thanked Gott for bringing him to Blackberry Falls....
Chapter One
“Nee, bring me the yellow.” Tabitha Stolfus frowned slightly as she gazed into the large, cherrywood-framed mirror in her bedroom. She knew that having such a big mirror might be considered vanity, but she had a good reason for possessing it.
She stood in a light shift, having discarded the blue dress that her faithful housemaid, Anke, had first brought her.
“Yellow?” the aulder woman said in a severe but hushed tone. “Ye’re not to wear anything but blue to be married. And ya know that . . . Why, if yer fater finds out, he’ll have a fit.”
“As you know, my fater is deep in the high timber, looking for red oak. He’s not due back until tomorrow, and by then, it’ll all be over with.” Tabitha took a graceful step away from the mirror and lightly skimmed her trim waistline with her slender hands. Her honey-blond hair hung below her hips in graceful waves and she knew, without conceit, that her face was as comely as her form.
Anke handed her the other dress, yellow as freshly churned butter. “Jah, all over with—and you’ll be hitched to an Amischer ya know nothing about. And just suppose this man doesn’t take to marryin’ straightaway? Suppose he wants time ta get to know ya? Huh?”
Tabitha slipped on the pretty dress, then eased it over her hips. She stared into the mirror, her sapphire-blue eyes set with determination. “The man is a mail-order groom, Anke. He surely must know that if the roles were reversed, a mail-order bride would be expected to marry upon her arrival.”
“Humph, well, I still say it ain’t a healthy idea ta marry without knowin’ each other. And what will ya do if you suddenly fall in love—true love—with some other fella, but yer forever bound to—what’s his name again?”
“Matthew,” Tabitha said firmly. “I’m marrying Matthew King, on my own terms, by my own judgment. All will be well. You’ll see, Anke. Now, sei se gut, help me with my hair and kapp; I’m going to geh out for a quick walk to clear my mind before I’m due to meet Abner . . . and Matthew . . . in the big clearing.”
Anke approached with a light comb, still muttering, and Tabitha caught the auld woman’s hand and pulled her close for a quick squeeze. “Danki for loving me, Anke, and please stop worrying. Things have a way of working out.”
“Jah, some might say that, kind, but you should know better. It’s Gott Who works things out, and He sometimes sees things a mite different from us.”
Tabitha merely smiled in response, certain in her heart that she was acting in accordance with Gott’s plans....
* * *
Matthew realized that their trek was nearing its end when Abner lowered his bulging knapsack to the ground near a bubbling stream and pool of water.
“Yer filthy and ya smell,” Abner said in gloomy tones.
“Danki,” Matthew returned. “I could remark that you look like a muddy toad, but that wouldn’t be quite right, now would it? Not when the thought of soggy vermin might be more the thing.”
“Watch yer mouth, buwe. . . . She wouldn’t want ta see ya lookin’ such a mess, so ye’d best git ta bathing.”
Matthew needed no further invitation. Turning his back to Abner, he quickly lowered his suspenders, then worked the hook-and-eye closures on his muddy, once-white shirt.
“You need pins,” Abner said.
Matthew half turned, his shirt in his hand. “Pins?”
“We use pins here to fasten our clothing.”
“That must be painful at times.” He undid the waistband of his black pants, then raised an eyebrow at Abner. “I forgot my straight razor. I don’t suppose you would . . .”
Abner rooted out a brutal-looking knife from his satchel and tossed it to him.
