Emma Miller - The Amish Bride

“I may be a dumb country pig farmer,” Simeon said, delivering the punch line of his story, “but I’m not the one who’s lost.” He looked around, waiting for the reaction to his joke and wasn’t disappointed.

Her mam and dat laughed loudly.

“Jah,” her mother agreed. “He wasn’t, was he? It was the fancy Englisher with the big car who was lost.”

Simeon slapped both hands on the table and roared with delight. “Told him, didn’t he?” Tears ran down his cheeks. “Lot of truth in that story, isn’t there?”

Ellen’s father nodded. “Lot of truth. Not many weeks pass that some tourist doesn’t stop in the craft shop to ask how to find Lancaster. And I say, you’re standing in it.”

“Course he means the town,” Ellen’s mam clarified. “Lancaster County’s one thing, the town is another.”

“Town of Lancaster’s got too many traffic lights and shopping centers for me.” Simeon wiped his cheeks with his napkin. “But I do love to laugh at them Englishers .”

Joel wiggled in his chair and whined. “I want my pie. Grossdaddi , you promised there’d be pie for dessert.”

Ellen eyed the two little boys. Asa and Joel were unusually demanding for Amish children; some might even say they were spoiled. And, to her way of thinking, Joel’s father allowed him perhaps too many sweets. He was a nice boy when he wasn’t whining, but if he got any chubbier, he’d never be able to keep up with the other kids when they ran and played. If he were her child, he’d eat more apples and fewer sugary treats. But, as her mam liked to say, people without kids always had the most opinions on how to raise them.

“Enough, boys!” Neziah said, clearly embarrassed by their behavior. “You’ll have to forgive my children. Living rough with us three men, they’re lacking in table manners.”

Micah chuckled.

Since he was still unmarried, he didn’t have a beard. The dimple on his chin made him even more attractive when he laughed. Ellen couldn’t imagine what he would want with her when half the girls in Lancaster County wished he’d ask to drive them home from a Sunday night singing.

“It’s more than table manners, I’d say,” Micah teased. “These boys are wild as rabbits and just as hard to herd when it comes time for bath or bed.”

“Which is why they need a mother’s hand,” Simeon pronounced. “And why we came to ask for your daughter in marriage, John.”

“To one of us,” Micah added. “Your choice, Ellen.” He chuckled again and punched his brother’s shoulder playfully. “Although, if she has her pick, Neziah’s starting this race a good furlong behind.”

Ellen glanced at Micah. Self-pride wasn’t an attribute prized by the Plain folk. Everyone knew that Micah was full of himself, but still, with his likeable manner, he seemed to be able to get away with it.

And to prove it, he winked at her and grinned. “Tell the bishop I said that, and he’ll have me on the boards in front of the church asking for forgiveness for my brash talk.”

“Micah! What will the John Beacheys think of you with your nonsense?” Simeon asked. “Be serious for once. Your brother is as good a candidate for marriage as you. And Ellen would be a good wife for him, as well.” He shrugged. “Either way, we’ll have a woman in the house to set it right and put my grandsons’ feet on the narrow path.”

Ellen frowned, not liking the sound of that. Did the Shetlers want her, or just some woman to wash, cook and look after the children? Maybe it was true that she was getting too old to be picky, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be taken advantage of.

She glanced at the plate of food she’d barely touched. She couldn’t believe they were all sitting there seriously talking about her marrying one of the Shetlers.

The kitchen felt unusually warm, even for a late-August evening, and Ellen ran a finger under the neckline of her dress to ease the tightness against her skin. What could she say? Her parents and the Shetlers were all looking expectantly at her again.

Folding his arms over his chest, Neziah spoke with slow deliberation. “You’re telling Ellen that she should choose between us, but I’ve not heard her say that she’ll have either of us. This is your idea, Vadder . Maybe it’s not to Ellen’s liking.”

“Not just my idea,” Simeon corrected. “ Nay. I say plainly that I believe it’s God’s plan. And John’s in agreement with me. Think about it. I don’t know why we didn’t see it before. Here I sit with two unwed sons, one with motherless children he struggles to care for and the other sashaying back and forth across the county from one singing to another in a rigged-out buggy with red-and-blue flashing lights.” His brow furrowed as he stared hard at Micah. “And don’t mention rumspringa , because it’s time you put that behind you and came into the church.”

“Listen to your father.” Ellen’s dat nodded. “He’s speaking truth, Micah. He wants what’s best for you. He always has.”

“Jah,” Simeon said. “I’ve held my tongue far too long, waiting for the two of you to stop sitting on the fence and court some young woman. Neziah’s mourned the boys’ mother long enough, and Micah’s near to being thought too flighty for any good family to want him. It’s time.”

Micah toyed with his fork. “I’m not yet thirty, Vadder . It’s not as if no girl would have me.”

“I’ll fetch the coffee and apple pie,” Ellen offered. She began clearing away the plates while Simeon wagged a finger at Micah.

“You know I’m but speaking what’s true. Deny it if you can. Neither of you have been putting your minds to finding a good wife. And you must marry. It’s not decent that you don’t. I’ve talked to you until I’m blue in the face, and I’ve prayed on it. What came to me was that we didn’t have to look far to find the answer to at least one of our problems.”

“Jah.” Ellen’s mother leaned forward on her elbows and pushed back her plate. “And you’ve worried about your sons no more than I’ve lost sleep over our girl. She should have been a wife years ago, should have filled our house with grandchildren. She’s a good daughter, a blessing to us in our old age. But it’s time she found a husband, and none better than one of your boys.”

“I agree,” Ellen’s father said. “I’ve known Neziah and Micah since they were born. I could ask no more for her than she wed such a good man as either of them.” He smiled and nodded his approval. “The pity is, we didn’t think of this solution sooner.”

“No solution if Ellen’s not willing,” Neziah pronounced. His serious gaze met hers and held it. “Are you in favor of this plan or are you just afraid to speak up and turn us out the door with our hats in hand?”

Everyone looked at her again, including the two children, and Ellen felt a familiar sinking feeling. What did she want? She didn’t know. She stood in the center of the kitchen feeling foolish and clutching the pie like a drowning woman with a lifeline. “I...Well...”

“Is the thought of marrying one of us distasteful to you?” Neziah asked when she couldn’t answer.

He had none of the showy looks of his brother. Neziah’s face was too planed, his brow too pronounced, and his mouth too thin to be called handsome. Not that he was ugly; he wasn’t that. But there was always something unnerving about his dark, penetrating gaze.

Neziah was only three years older than she was, but he looked closer to ten. Hints of gray were beginning to tint his walnut-brown hair. The sudden loss of his wife and mother in the same accident three years ago had struck him hard. Maybe it was the responsibility of being both father and mother to two young children that stamped him with an air of heaviness.