Leigh Bale - Her Amish Christmas Choice

“And me, too,” Hank chimed in.

Byron grunted. “She told me someone would be coming in.”

Martin stood silent. Though he had lived in this community over ten years and knew the townspeople quite well, he was Amish and understood the expectations of his faith. He should keep himself apart from the world and not become too friendly with the Englisch townsfolk.

Moving around Martin’s cart, Byron lifted and moved each item to access the price tag. The beep of the scanning gun filled the air in quick repetition.

“You gonna ask Julia to drive home with you from the singings?” Hank asked his brother.

Noticing that Byron was watching him with amusement, Martin’s face flushed with heat and he quickly turned away. “ Ne , of course not.”

The singings were usually held after church services and included all the young people who were of dating age. As a group, they spent the evening singing or, if weather permitted, playing volleyball outside. They enjoyed refreshments afterward and frequently the young men drove the young women home in their buggies. Alone. This form of Amish dating frequently resulted in marriage. But at the age of twenty-five, Martin had long ago stopped attending such events because the girls were too young and immature to hold his interest.

“How come?” Hank persisted.

“Your kind can’t marry outside your church.” Byron Stott spoke as if it should be obvious.

“Oh.” Hank’s mouth rounded in confusion. He stared at the man, the tip of his tongue protruding between his lips. “But what if she becomes Amish? Then it would be okay. Right?”

Martin didn’t respond but he saw Byron’s curious stare. This wasn’t the first time that Hank had embarrassed him in public.

“Since you don’t want her, I’m gonna invite her to the singing. We can make her Amish and then she’s gonna be my girl,” Hank said in a happy voice.

Byron flipped a lever and opened the till on the cash register as he laughed out loud. “A grown woman like Julia Rose isn’t gonna join the Amish and she definitely won’t be your girl.”

Martin bristled at the proprietor’s unkind words but remained mute.

Hank scowled. “How come? I’d treat her real gut . Just like my vadder treats my mudder . She is his queen. And that’s how I’d treat Julia. Like a queen.”

Byron just snorted and looked away.

Martin didn’t say a word. He didn’t want to hurt his brother’s feelings. Familye and marriage meant everything to the Amish people. Telling Hank that he would probably never marry and have a familye of his own wouldn’t be nice.

Not when Martin had failed to secure a wife for himself. He knew he should have wed long ago. It was the expectation of his people. He’d stepped out with every eligible Amish woman here in Riverton and those living in the nearby town of Westcliffe, too. A couple of years ago, he’d spent several months with his relatives in Indiana, seeking a suitable Amish wife. But he’d failed miserably. It seemed either the woman didn’t want him or he didn’t want her, with nothing in between.

He thought about Julia Rose again and the way the sunlight gleamed against her russet hair. Wouldn’t it be ironic if he finally found someone he wanted to marry…and she happened to be Englisch ? Such a relationship would never work. Either Martin would be shunned for marrying outside his faith, or his wife would have to convert. He couldn’t see either scenario happening between him and Julia Rose. Besides, his faith was too important for him to give up.

His thoughts were ridiculous and he almost laughed out loud at his silly musings.

Byron completed the tally, made some notes on a ledger, then handed a long receipt to Martin.

“Give this to Julia. She’ll be expecting it,” Byron said.

With a quick nod, Martin folded the receipt and tucked it inside his black felt hat since he had no pockets.

“ Ach , I don’t see why I can’t invite Julia to the singings just because she isn’t Amish. I’m gonna ask her to be my girl. You just wait and see,” Hank mumbled as they headed outside.

Martin was not going to comment. Not in a million years. Hank saw mostly the good in other people and didn’t always understand social mores. Although their mother was accepting of Hank’s Down syndrome, she had confided to Martin once that she feared she had been punished by Gott for doing something wrong. Martin had comforted her, believing it was just the way Hank was. The boy was so eager to please and rarely showed anger or malice. He brought so much joy into their lives that Martin thought he was a blessing, not a punishment.

The buggy-wagon was parked off to the side where Byron Stott had constructed a hitching tether for his Amish clientele. Hank skipped along beside Martin, stopping to inspect an ant crawling across the pavement. Martin quickly loaded his purchases into the back of the wagon, waited for Hank to get inside the buggy, then took the lead lines into his hands and slapped them against the horse’s back. As he turned onto the street and headed toward Rose Soapworks, he let the rhythmic clop of the horse’s hooves settle his jangled nerves.

For some reason, Hank’s senseless chatter upset him today. It had never bothered him before. Martin usually had a quiet heart. But somehow, meeting Julia Rose had unsettled him more than he’d realized.

He’d recently purchased sixty-five acres of fine farmland just two miles outside of town. In the spring, he planned to build a barn and raise horses and a familye of his own. But just one problem: he had no wife. No one to build a house for. No one to love and dote on the way he longed to do. No reason to work so hard for the land he’d just acquired. And no one to love him in return.

But he was determined to change all of that. And soon.

“Who is that?”

Julia turned and found her mother standing beside her in the spacious workroom at the front of the store.

It was lunchtime and Julia was getting ready to make sandwiches when she thought perhaps she should ask her new workmen if they were hungry. Gazing out the wide windows, she’d been watching Martin and Hank tap-tapping with hammers as they rebuilt the front porch. Or rather, Martin did most of the work while Hank hopped around in a circle, chased a stray dog and laughed out loud at absolutely nothing at all.

“They’re our new handymen. The man’s name is Martin Hostetler and that’s his younger brother Hank. Mr. Nelson recommended them to us,” Julia said.

Her mother frowned. At the age of forty-four, Sharon Rose was still fairly young but she had lupus and not much stamina. Though she never wore makeup and insisted on keeping her long, graying hair pinned in a tight bun at the back of her head, she had a pretty face with soft brown eyes. Dressed like Julia in blue jeans and tennis shoes, Sharon took a deep breath and let it go.

“But they’re Amish,” she said.

“Yes, that surprised me, as well. But Martin rescued me when the porch canopy fell on top of me and he says that he’s an experienced carpenter and plumber. Apparently, he’s helped build numerous structures.”

The scowl on Sharon’s face deepened. “I have no doubt that’s true. The Amish always help each other build their own homes and barns. But isn’t there someone else you can hire?”

Julia figured Mom had acquired knowledge about the Amish sometime during her life. But her mother’s doubt caused a lance of uncertainty to spear Julia’s heart. She was trying so hard to be a savvy businesswoman and to keep her promise to her father. Had she made a mistake by hiring Martin without knowing more about him? No, she didn’t think so.