The Amish Bachelor's Bride, page 1
“I don’t know you, Noem,” Lavinia confessed.
“And I certainly don’t want to jump into something I might regret later,” she added.
“Understood.”
Knowing it would be an arrangement in name only, Noem considered retreating. But since he’d come this far, he decided to press ahead. Between them, they’d have three youngies. Surely that would be enough to build a life on.
“I know I can’t replace Josiah. Nor would I ever try. And I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. You will have your own room—and plenty of privacy.”
“Danke.” Rocking gently, Lavinia returned her attention to the infant in her arms. Framed by the soft light emanating from the hearth, a wistful expression caressed her features.
Lifting her head, Lavinia drew back her shoulders. “After Josiah passed, I prayed Gott would show me where my life would go next,” she said softly. “I can’t explain how I know it, but I believe Gott sent these kinder for me to care for.”
“Then will you be my wife?”
After a brief hesitation, she tightened her hold on his hand.
“Ja,” she said in a dulcet tone. “I will.”
Pamela Desmond Wright grew up in a small, dusty Texas town. Like the Amish, Pamela is a fan of the simple life. Her childhood includes memories of the olden days: old-fashioned oil lamps, cooking over an authentic wood-burning stove and making popcorn over a crackling fire at her grandparents’ cabin. The authentic log cabin Pamela grew up playing in was donated to the Muleshoe Heritage Center in Muleshoe, Texas, where it is on public display.
Books by Pamela Desmond Wright
Love Inspired
The Cowboy’s Amish Haven
Finding Her Amish Home
The Amish Bachelor’s Bride
Visit the Author Profile page at LoveInspired.com.
THE AMISH BACHELOR’S BRIDE
Pamela Desmond Wright
Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing,
and obtaineth favour of the Lord.
—Proverbs 18:22
This book is dedicated to my street team and
beta readers. I am grateful for the support and
encouragement each member gives me.
Special thanks to my editor, Melissa Endlich,
and my agent, Tamela H. Murray.
I would not want to walk my journey as an author
without them to guide and encourage me.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Excerpt from Depending on the Cowboy by Jill Kemerer
Chapter One
Humble, Wisconsin
Present day
The sky was leaden, the day as cold and overcast as Noem Witzel felt inside. Chilly fingers of a gusty spring wind tugged at his long coat, drawing its folds away from his body. Barely aware of his surroundings, he watched the cemetery workers lower the coffin into its place deep in the ground. The bishop stood at the head of the grave, reading a passage from the Bible.
The wind kicked up, caressing the nape of his neck. Shivering, Noem drew the little girl standing beside him closer to shield her from the elements. Bundled in a coat and mittens and holding a stuffed bear in one arm, his four-year-old niece sniffled. Bewildered by the loss of her mamm, she clutched his hand for dear life. It was too early in the morning for youngies to be out, but it was the only time the bishop was available to conduct the services.
Throat tightening with emotion, he glanced to his right. His daed, Gabriel, stood nearby, dressed in black from head to toe. Bitter agony etched the old man’s features. A few feet away, the Englisch woman he’d hired to bring them to the cemetery cradled a swaddled infant. Unhappy in the stranger’s arms, his nephew released a piteous wail.
Noem blinked against the blur rimming his vision. Three days ago, his schwester had passed away. Left behind were her two small kinder.
Ending his prayer, the bishop closed his Bible. Bending, he scraped up a handful of soil and cast it into the grave. The dirt struck the top of the coffin, scattering atop the plain wooden surface.
“Here lies Callie Evans,” he intoned. “May her soul rest in the hands of the Lord.”
“Amen,” the small group finished, concluding the simple service. Apart from the bishop and gravediggers, no other folks from the community were in attendance.
Following the bishop’s lead, Noem also scooped up a handful of the dirt. He tossed it into the depths, as did Gabriel. Confused by the ritual, Penelope stood motionless. It hadn’t yet registered that her mamm was gone forever.
“It’s okay, Penny,” he said, trying to reassure the little girl over the sound of her bruder’s wails. “We’re going to take care of you and Jesse.”
She looked at him with sad eyes. “I want to go home.”
Heart squeezed by her plaintive plea, he choked back a sob.
This is going to be so hard.
“I wish you could. I know you’re scared, but you’re going to have to live with me and your groossdaadi now.”
Lips quivering, Penelope dropped her head. Her grip on the stuffed bear she held tightened. “Is Mamma coming soon?”
Despair twisted his insides. Feeling as if he’d been attacked by a beast from a dark place, he attempted to keep his emotions in check. “No. She isn’t.”
Miserable and shivering, Penelope buried her face in the faux fur toy. “I want Mamma.” A sob racked her body.
Noem said nothing. Now wasn’t the time. Later, he would sit down and try to explain why she’d never see her mamm again.
Done with his part, Bishop Graber walked up. He was a plain-faced balding man, and sympathy etched his expression. “My condolences on your loss.”
“Danke,” Noem said, reverting to Deitsch. “I appreciate you allowing Callie to be buried beside our mamm.”
“Callie has passed, and so have her sins. Even though she was excommunicated, my job isn’t to judge her but to pass her soul to Gott.” As the bishop glanced at Penelope and then the bawling infant, a question mark formed on his face. “It is a shame she leaves two youngies behind. Will you raise them?”
Noem tightened his grip on his niece’s hand. A tragic turn of fate had landed Callie’s kinder squarely in his care. Until he’d taken custody of the little ones, he did not know she’d even had a second boppli. Though he knew about Penelope, he’d never laid eyes on her. No one in the familie had seen Callie in person since she was nineteen. Five years ago, she’d eloped with her Englisch boyfriend. As she’d been baptized, their relationship was verboten. But Callie abandoned her faith for love. Under the rules of the Ordnung, she was shunned.
“Ja. I will.”
The bishop glanced at the Englisch woman trying unsuccessfully to quiet Jesse. He continued to wail, defying her efforts. “Perhaps you should think about getting these youngies out of this cold.”
“I think he needs his diaper changed,” the woman apologized, trying to explain her failure to quiet the infant.
“If you would take him and Penelope to the van, I’ll be there in a moment,” Noem said, directing his niece to go with the woman. By the sullen look on her face, she wasn’t pleased to be pressed into babysitting, too, but he had no other choice.
The woman nodded. “Sure, I’ll keep an eye. But you know watching the kids is extra on your tab. I’m not a nanny.”
“Of course.”
Watching the trio depart, Noem scrubbed a hand over his mouth. Exhausted beyond weariness, he bit back a moan. A thud kicked behind his temples. The headache he’d fought for days intensified. He’d barely had time to pull himself together since receiving word of Callie’s passing. Hiring a van and driver to take him to Wausau, he’d picked up her youngies. He barely remembered the trip or arriving at the hospital where Callie had passed. Sepsis with complications from anemia, the doctors had explained. Dazed, he’d signed everything the secretary and state social worker pushed at him, taking custody of his niece and nephew. Between the kinder and his stubborn father, he hadn’t had a moment to catch a wink of sleep. He wanted nothing more than to collapse and lie motionless. Numb with exhaustion, he kept on his feet through sheer will.
Doubt seeded his thoughts, shredding his ability to think. On one side was the rock. On the other was the hard place. The two were grinding together, smashing him flat.
How in the world am I going to manage this?
Mopping his brow with a handkerchief, Gabriel Witzel shook his head. “Wasn’t plannin’ to be raising enkelkinder at my age.”
Noem tensed, thankful the youngies were out of earshot. “We talked about this.”
The grizzled old man frowned. “No, sohn, we didn’t. They belong with their Englisch relatives.”
“How can you say such a thing?” The question rolled off Noem’s tongue before he even considered whether it was appropriate to argue in front of the bishop.
James Graber nodded. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“By my thinkin’, Callie was the one who broke her oath.” Gabriel sighed as if deeply afflicted. “Is it not true that those who have gone under the bann are no longer Amish?”
Pushing back his black felt hat, the bishop gave his forehead a scratch. “If you’re asking for my interpretation, I’d say if you’re born Amish, you’re always Amish. Raised in the faith, Callie’s kinder might choose to become members of our community when they are grown.”
“The kinder have an Englisch daed,” Gabriel grumbled, switching to Deitsch. “Callie knew when she married Erik she couldn’t come back to the community. She may have been born Amish, but to my mind, her kinder were not. Erik should be the one to take them.”
The bishop nodded graciously. “You are entitled to your thoughts, Gabriel. We can agree to disagree. I know, either way, you only want what is best for the little ones.”
Planting his feet firmly, Gabriel’s mouth retained a frown. “I do, and my mind is made up.”
Curbing his irritation, Noem cut him off. The letter he’d received from Callie just a week before her passing had revealed her heartbreak and desperation. Erik had abandoned his familie for another woman. Ill and alone, she’d had no choice but to reach out to her Amish relatives.
“You k-know that’s not going to h-happen. Whether or not you like it, Penny and Jesse are here to stay.” The words stuck to his tongue, causing him to wince. His childhood stutter returned at the most inconvenient times.
“How can we take care of them and work?” Gabriel demanded. “We both have jobs from sunup to sundown.”
“I—I’ll hire a live-in nanny.”
“Ach! And just where do ye think you’ll be puttin’ a female?” he asked with sarcastic asperity. “Unless you plan to wed her, she can’t live under our roof.”
“It’s going to take a few days, but I’ll figure out something.”
Digging in his heels, Gabriel crossed his arms. “Needs to be someone trustworthy.”
“I’ll do my best,” Noem said, attempting to calm his agitated parent. It didn’t help. The anger between them stretched on. Each had his side, and neither was backing down.
Releasing a huff through flared nostrils, Gabriel Witzel’s grim expression tightened. “I want no part in the matter. This is nothin’ but trouble. Mark my words.” Settling his hat on his head, he strode away from the grave without a backward glance. Once he’d climbed into his buggy, he set the horse in motion. The vehicle clattered down the gravel road.
Taking shovels in hand, the gravediggers began their task in silence. No one spoke. As far as they were concerned, Callie Evans was to be shunned, even in death. It was why no one in the community had come to pay their last respects. Out of deference for her familie, the bishop had allowed her burial. Like most Amish cemeteries, it was located on the outskirts of town, on a piece of land dedicated for use by the community. The grounds were meticulously kept, grass and hedges trimmed. A huge marble carving of a book with the Lord’s Prayer inscribed into its stone pages sat positioned between two towering weeping willow trees. There were iron benches beneath the trees, inviting the bereaved to sit beneath their shelter and seek comfort.
Noem watched his daed leave. Refusing to ride in the hired vehicle, Gabriel had insisted on getting himself to the funeral by the traditional Amish means of transportation. In a way, it was a relief. Being around his daed was getting harder and harder. Gabriel rarely smiled and only spoke when spoken to. It was as if he wanted to punish Gott for taking his beloved ehefrau. Unfortunately, the only ones the old man was punishing were the few friends and familie members he had left.
“I’m sorry, Bishop. I didn’t mean to drag you in on our argument.”
Bishop Graber placed a hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re a fine man for trying to do right by the kinder. I’ll pray your daed reconsiders.”
“Danke. I need all the prayers I can get.”
Sensing his turmoil, the bishop took Noem by the elbow and led him away from the grave. “You mentioned you were planning to hire a tagesmutter to look after the youngies.”
Noem didn’t look back. He couldn’t.
“Ja,” he said, recalling his disastrous attempts to get the boppli changed and fed before leaving for the service. “I’m going to place a notice at the market and in the newspaper.”
“You’ll need a single woman who is gut with kinder.”
“Your recommendation would be welcome.”
Bishop Graber halted his steps. “I’d prefer to make a suggestion you might not have considered.”
“Please do.”
“What would you think of a familie formation arrangement?”
Noem blinked. Finding himself a wife and getting married was the furthest thing from his mind.
“You mean take an ehefrau?”
“That is exactly what I am suggesting.”
Taken aback, he stammered out a quick reply. “B-but I’m not s-seeing anyone.”
The bishop held up a hand. “Hear me out before you say no.” His expression held the intent look of a sensible man.
“I’m listening.”
“I believe you know Lavinia Simmons.”
“Ja,” he said, forcing himself to slow down and speak with precision. “She was friends with Callie when they were in school. But that was years ago.” Despite the passage of time, it was easy to picture Lavinia’s face. Then, her name had been Mueller. With her coal-black hair and dark eyes, she was quite a striking teenager. A lovely girl, she had a kind nature and a generous spirit.
“You know she is a recent widow.”
He nodded. “Very sad loss for her. He was so young.” He’d attended Josiah’s service but doubted Lavinia had known he was there. The funeral was large, and hundreds had attended. He was just another face in the crowd. Dazed with grief, she probably didn’t care. As he and Josiah weren’t close friends, Noem had seen no reason to bother her.
The bishop momentarily pursed thin lips. “Far be it from me to spread gossip, but Josiah left her in a bad way financially.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Did I mention she has a tochter? Sophie is nearly three. Having another youngie around to bond with would be good for your niece.”
“I suppose,” Noem allowed, turning his collar up against the gusty wind. “But we barely know each other nowadays. We aren’t even in the same church district. Would it be p-proper to approach her?”
“Why not? You have a home and need a gut woman to manage it. Why not combine your resources and raise your youngies together?”
Falling silent, Noem turned the idea over. His mind flitted back to a time when he’d known Lavinia better. He’d always liked her and didn’t have a bad word to say against her character. During their rumspringa, he’d considered asking her on a date. But he’d hemmed and hawed so long that Josiah Simmons had stepped in line in front of him. Believing he’d missed his chance, he’d decided not to throw his hat in the ring after Josiah took a fancy to her. The match had worked out. The couple married soon thereafter.
Lavinia had slipped through his fingers once. Taking a wretched turn, fate now presented a second chance. She was a young widow. He had a niece and a nephew who needed a woman to help raise them.
The idea enticed him. It would be a reasonable step. Love had nothing to do with what was often a practical solution.
Mind cutting a new track, he dragged in a breath. Marry Lavinia Simmons? Given thought, it wasn’t as absurd as it might seem. Though they’d lost touch in recent years, they’d always gotten along in their youth.
Would she be open to the idea?
There was only one way to find out.
* * *
Lifting the blinds of the kitchen window, Lavinia Simmons gazed over the fenced-in yard. A glance told her the day was going to be dim. A brisk wind flicked at the trees. The threat of a storm hung in the air.
She searched for a bit of cheer. April showers bring May flowers.
