Patricia Davids - Their Pretend Amish Courtship

Flowery and sweet. Not what he expected from a girl who spent most of her time with horses.

He walked out into the arena and saw her with a half-dozen other Amish girls. They were saddling Connie’s horses. All of the girls eyed him intently as Fannie left them to speak to him. “The rest of my team is here. Do you want to watch us practice?”

“Another time. Walter is waiting outside to drive us to our game in Berlin. Do they all know about us?” He jerked his head toward the girls.

“Only Connie knows.”

He squared his shoulders and held out Fannie’s kapp. “That’s a relief. I guess I should get this over with. Fannie, may I take you home after church tomorrow?”

She glanced over her shoulder and then leaned close. “If you have to grit your teeth to ask me out, Noah, no one will believe we like each other.”

His mouth fell open. He snapped it shut and glared at her. “That is exactly what I said. Ja or nee, Fannie. Can I take you home after church or not? I don’t have all day.”

Her sweet smile didn’t reach her eyes. “As much as I would like to refuse your kind offer, I won’t. I will almost be happy to go out with you.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “And I will be sincerely happy when this charade is over.”

She took a step closer and whispered, “Not nearly as happy as I will be.”

“You ungrateful minx. Enjoy your time in Florida.” He turned away.

She caught his arm before he had taken a single step. “I’m sorry, Noah. Really. Please don’t go away mad. I will do better.”

“I must be ab en kopp, off in the head. Otherwise, why would I be here?”

She looked over her shoulder and then turned to him with resignation written across her face. “You’re right. No one will believe we are a couple. I’m not as pretty as the girls you’ve gone out with in the past. I’m much too horsey for most men to look my way. I don’t know how to act around a fella who shows some interest, so I act as if I don’t care. You’ve been a friend to me in the past and I hope that we can be friends again in the future. I’m sorry I put you in an awkward situation.”

If she had been a motherless kitten, she couldn’t have looked more forlorn. It was too bad he had a soft spot for kittens. He looked toward the group of young women watching them and sighed heavily. “Fannie, we might not be friends after this, but your teammates are gonna believe we’re a couple.”

Calling himself every kind of fool, he took her by the shoulders, pulled her close and kissed her cheek. Then he beat a hasty retreat before she had time to react.

* * *

Fannie pressed a hand to her tingling face. Had Noah wanted to kiss her, or had he done it purely for effect?

For the effect, the sensible part of her insisted. The less sensible part of her wondered if he liked her—just a little. She stared at the door where he’d disappeared until the sound of giggling and a wolf whistle penetrated the fog in her mind.

She turned to face her teammates, ignoring George’s leering stare from across the arena. “We have a lot of work to do and only a short time to do it. Mount up. Zoe, start the music.”

Connie came over and handed Fannie Trinket’s reins as the strains of “She’ll Be Coming ’Round the Mountain” blared from a speaker on the arena railing. The group had decided on the song because the rolling cadence of the music matched the gait of their horses.

Connie held on to Trinket’s reins as she gazed at Fannie’s face. “Just remember that people who play with fire often get burned.”

“I’m not going to get burned,” Fannie said quietly, praying that was true. “I know the difference between real and pretend.”

“For your sake, I hope so.”

* * *

Every time Fannie looked up from her hymnal on Sunday morning, she caught sight of Noah’s reflection in the mirror on the wall behind the bishop and preachers at the front of the room, and she started thinking about Noah’s kiss all over again.

The service was being held at the home of John Miller, the local blacksmith. The widower lived with his mother on a small farm a mile from Fannie’s home. Like many Amish homes, the walls of the downstairs could be opened up to accommodate members of the congregation during services that were held every other Sunday. Wooden benches had been placed in two rows where women sat on one side while the men sat on the other.

She should be minding the words of the bishop’s preaching, but all Fannie could think about was riding home with Noah that evening. After the singing that would be held for the youth following supper. After dark.

Would he kiss her again?

She gave herself a mental shake. The whole idea was ridiculous. How could she pretend to be interested in Noah when she wasn’t? The longer she thought about it, and she’d spent most of the night thinking about it, the less she wanted to go through with it. The only answer was to call the whole thing off.

She couldn’t silence the talk among the girls who’d seen him kiss her, but it would die down and none of them were likely to spread the story if Noah didn’t come around again. George would forget about it soon enough, and he knew very few Amish folk.

Calling it off was the right decision. She would tell Noah as soon as she had the chance.

She glanced at the mirror again. She could see a half dozen of the young unmarried men and boys in the reflection. They were all seated at the back of the room nearest the door. They would be the first to leave when the three-hour service was over. Several of them drew frowns from the ministers by their restlessness as the end approached. Fannie couldn’t blame them. The backless wooden benches were hard. She focused again on the heavy black songbook in her hands. She had been desperate, and her spur-of-the-moment plan had been foolish. There had to be a better way. If only she could think of one.

“Why is Noah Bowman watching you?” Betsy whispered in her ear.

Fannie glanced up and met Noah’s eyes in the mirror. He nodded slightly to acknowledge her. A rush of heat filled her cheeks and she looked down quickly. “I have no idea.”

“Shveshtah, you’re blushing.” Betsy smirked, causing several nearby worshippers to look their way.

Fannie shot her sister a fierce stare and Betsy turned her attention back to the bishop. Fannie glanced in the mirror again.

Unlike yesterday, Noah was dressed plain in black pants and a black coat over a pale blue shirt. He was indistinguishable from the other Amish men around him except for the shorter haircut he wore. He wasn’t the most handsome one of the Bowman brothers. Luke was the best looking while Samuel was the most hardworking, but Noah was nice looking in his own way. She liked his eyes the best. Her sister called them forget-me-not blue. Fannie liked the way they sparkled when he smiled. And he was almost always smiling.

Except when he was around her.

Not that she smiled that much around him, either. Ever since that evening in his mother’s garden, they seemed to rub each other the wrong way. Fannie couldn’t put her finger on the reason.

People around her began singing and Fannie joined in, knowing it was the final hymn of the service. Normally the preaching seemed long, but not today. Today it ended all too quickly. When she walked outside, Noah was waiting for her off to the side of the house with his straw hat in his hands. She clutched her fingers together and walked toward him.

“You look like a martyr heading to your own execution. Try smiling.” He nodded to someone behind her.

Fannie swallowed the comment that sprang to her lips and smiled instead. “Is this better?”

“Vennich.”

“A little is better than nothing.” She looked over her shoulder and saw his mother smiling warmly at them. Anna winked at her and waved before snagging Fannie’s mother by the arm, and the two of them walked away with their heads close together.