Mary Davis - Courting Her Secret Heart

Several ducks squawked their disapproval of her presence. With indignation, they waddled and flapped onto the frozen water.

Deborah cringed. “Sorry to disturb you. I’ll bring you some bread crusts tomorrow.”

The largest tree in the grove had a tangle of many trunks from its base, creating an empty space in the center. She scurried over and dropped her green, tan and white camouflage backpack into the hollow. A sprinkle of dried leaves on top, and no one would ever find it. Truth be told, she could leave her pack out in the open and no one would likely notice it. It would blend in with the tree’s patchwork bark.

She took off for the house, running between the stubbly winter cornfield rows. She was going to be late. She’d lost track of time, which was her usual excuse, but this time it was true. She could be gone all day and no one in her family ever noticed her absence. Or if they did, they never mentioned it. Apparently, keeping track of so many girls was too much trouble to bother with. Seven. And she was right smack-dab in the middle. Not the oldest. Not the youngest. Not anything.

Of late, everyone was fussing over Hannah and Lydia, who were both planning to marry this fall. Although no one was supposed to know, since neither wedding would be officially announced until late summer or early fall, but a lot of celery would be planted in the garden this spring. After all, they couldn’t have Amish weddings without celery.

It had been a gut photo shoot today. The sun was shining, and though cold out, it had been a perfect day. Even if by some strange chance her absence had been noticed and she got scolded for being gone, it wouldn’t dampen her mood. Nothing could spoil today.

Deborah pulled her coat tighter around herself as she slowed down and entered the yard, finding it oddly quiet. She needed to look as though she hadn’t been in a hurry and just lost track of time, as usual.

Chickens pecked at the ground, but no people could be seen. Where was everyone? Were all her sisters in the house with Mutter ? That was peculiar. One or two were often outside at this time of day. Unusual to have caught them all in the kitchen.

An Amish man came out of the barn, carrying two empty buckets.

Who was he? She’d never seen him before. Though dressed Amish, she had to wonder if he belonged to their community. His light brown hair peeked out from under his black felt hat. The brim shaded his face. Just the type of rugged Amish man that Hudson, her photographer, had repeatedly asked her to find for photo shoots. What was this stranger doing on their farm?

She approached him. “Who are you?” Her words puffed out on little white clouds.

“I’m Amos Burkholder. Who are you?” He smiled.

A warm, inviting, disarming smile. The kind that could make her forget her purpose. A smile she wouldn’t mind retreating into. She mentally shook herself free of his spell. “I’m Deborah Miller. I live here. What are you doing on our farm? And where’s my family?”

“Deborah? I was told the whole family went to the hospital. What are you doing here?”

“Hospital? Why?” Her family went to the hospital and hadn’t noticed her absence? It figured.

“Bartholomew Miller had an accident. An ambulance came. Bishop Bontrager asked me to take care of things here until you all returned and your vater was able to work again.”

“My vater ? Accident? What happened? Is he all right?”

“I don’t know the details. But if the bishop thinks your vater will be well enough to work his farm again, then I think he will be all right eventually. Would you like me to drive you into Goshen to the hospital?”

Deborah shook her head. “If I hitch up the smaller buggy, I can drive myself.”

“I’ll hitch it.”

“Danki.” Deborah ran into the house to grab her bag of sewing. In case she had a while to wait at the hospital, she wanted to have something to keep herself distracted from too much worry. When she came back out, Amos wasn’t much further along in getting the buggy ready.

Impatient, Deborah stalked over to the horse standing in the yard and took hold of the harness on the other side from Amos.

He stopped his progress. “I’m capable of doing this myself.”

Deborah hooked the belly strap. “I know.” What Amish person didn’t know how to hitch up a horse to a buggy by themself by age ten or twelve? “If I help, it’ll go faster.”

After a deep breath, he got back to the work at hand. Once the buggy was hitched and ready to go, he climbed in the side opposite her and took charge of the reins.

She put her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you into town.”

“I told you that I can drive a buggy myself.”

“I know and have no doubt you’re capable, but you’re flustered over the news of your vater , and it would be best if you don’t drive in your present state.”

“Present state? What’s that supposed to mean?”

He tilted his head. “Are you getting in? Or would you rather walk to town?”

With a huff, she climbed aboard and plopped down on the seat. “You are insufferable.”

He handed her a quilt for her lap, then gently snapped the reins and clucked the horse into motion. “If by insufferable you mean helpful , then danki .”

Why was she being so ill-tempered? This wasn’t like her. Maybe it was the news of her vater being injured. Or maybe it was her guilt of being away from the house when it happened. Or maybe it was because she knew she had been doing something her vater , her family and the community would frown upon. Or maybe it was all three. Whatever the reason, Amos didn’t deserve her poor attitude when he was being so helpful and kind. “I’m sorry for being difficult. I’m worried about my vater .”

“That’s understandable.”

She blew into her hands to warm them, then slipped on her knitted mittens. “I haven’t seen you before. Do you belong to a neighboring community district?”

“ Ne. We live on the other side of the district. We moved here a year ago from Pennsylvania. We’re at church every other Sunday. You’ve even been to church at our farm. We obviously haven’t made a memorable impression on you. Or at least I haven’t.”

How could she not remember him? “Tell me a little about your family to remind me.”

“I am the youngest of five boys. The two oldest stayed in Pennsylvania and split the farm we had there.”

“I think I know who you are, or at least your family. I’m the middle of seven girls.”

“I know. I’ve seen you in church along with all your sisters.”

He’d noticed her?

“Tell me something, is Miriam spoken for or being courted by anyone?”

Evidently, he had his eye on her sister, who was a little over a year older than herself. That meant, it hadn’t been Deborah he’d noticed at church, but her sister. Disappointing. Someone else who overlooked her. “Timothy Zook seems interested in her.”

“Is she interested in him?”

“Some days ja , and others ne . Miriam likes a lot of boys. She can’t seem to decide which one she likes most. She’s so afraid of choosing the wrong man to marry, we fear she’ll never marry at all.” Deborah pulled a face. “I probably shouldn’t have told you all that. Please don’t hold it against her. She’s a very wonderful sister.”

His chuckle held no humor.

Was it truly Miriam she didn’t want him to think of poorly, or herself because of her derogatory words? Why should she care what this man thought of her? But she did. “Can you hurry? I need to know how my vater is.”