An Unlikely Amish Match Read online

  Then the second master engineer was calling out that it was time to begin the actual construction of the wall. The boards were measured and cut. Micah scrambled to the top with a dozen other men as others from the ground lifted the boards into place. The planks were positioned vertically—Micah hammered from the top as a younger guy he didn’t know hammered from the bottom.

  An hour later, he was once again being offered water. As he gulped it down, he looked around the roof area where he was working. An old man with white hair stood on his left and a young teen on his right. Both reflected the same grin that he felt on his own face.

  And then they were working again. Micah straddled a beam so that he could nail from the outside. He looked down and counted four others doing the same. They must look like a ladder of Amish men.

  He had no idea how much time had passed when he climbed down and stepped back, trying to take in the whole of what they’d done. “It’s like building a house of cards,” he murmured.

  “Pretty much,” the old guy to his right agreed, grinning and straightening his suspenders. “Much sturdier, though.”

  Soon they were both back on the roof again. The morning passed without Micah even being aware of it. When he heard the lunch bell ring, he scrambled down to the ground, but then he stood there as the tide of workers swept past him. He stared up at the frame of the barn, which was now completely intact.

  It really was amazing what could be done when people worked together.

  Almost without realizing what he was doing, he slipped his cell phone from his back pocket and took a selfie with the barn rising behind him. Only when he touched the photo button and heard the click did he realize that what he was doing was generally frowned upon. So he stuck his phone back in his pocket and strode off toward lunch.

  He’d put it on Snapchat later that evening.

  One picture wouldn’t hurt anything.

  And it wasn’t like anyone else in the group had a phone or a Snapchat account. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and it wouldn’t land him in trouble, either.

  Or, at least, that was his thinking at the moment.

  He spied Susannah twice during lunch. Both times he tried to catch her attention, but she didn’t see him. Or at least she pretended not to see him.

  Was she upset about the meetings they had to attend with her dat? He tried to remember if they’d talked about it, but she had been curiously absent when he’d worked in her dat’s farrier shop. He’d thought she was simply busy, but maybe she was avoiding him.

  He didn’t have much time to dwell on it. Before he’d even cleaned his plate, men were returning to work. The afternoon passed as quickly as the morning had. By the time he climbed down from the roof, he was sore in a way that he hadn’t been in a very long time. He supposed that farming and shoeing horses didn’t use the same muscles as construction. It wasn’t that he was getting older. His age had nothing to do with it.

  He looked for Susannah as he made his way to fetch the buggy for his grandparents. When he asked Elias, who was once again helping folks with their buggies, he learned that the Beiler family had already left.

  Possibly she was avoiding him. So what? Maybe she’d decided that being his sidekick was too risky. The thought depressed him terribly. Hadn’t they had fun? Hadn’t she enjoyed the evening in the park and the time they’d gone fishing?

  He knew she had. She’d laughed and smiled and the serious Susannah had slipped away.

  But he didn’t doubt that she was making an effort not to spend time with him, which was fine. He’d see her on Sunday. They had the church meeting, and there was no way she could avoid him there.

  * * *

  Fortunately for Susannah, Sunday morning dawned dark and rainy. She could volunteer to stay inside with the babies after service. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with Micah.

  So she was pretty surprised when she was sitting with Deborah, rocking babies in the Gleichs’ front living room, and Micah stepped inside.

  “Uh-oh. Looks like someone found you,” Deborah said under her breath.

  If he felt uncomfortable in a room full of babies, Micah didn’t show it. But then was he ever uncomfortable? That was part of his problem—even places where he didn’t belong, he still seemed to enjoy. No, that wasn’t quite right. Micah Fisher was a man intent on savoring every single moment of a day, and she couldn’t really blame him for that. She admired it in one way, but then there was her dat to think about...

  “Deborah, Susannah. Gut to see you both.”

  “Is there something we can help you with, Micah?” Deborah smiled sweetly and nodded to the fussy baby in her lap. “Or maybe you had an urge to rock a boppli.”

  “I could if you need me to, not that I have any experience. I somehow managed to avoid babysitting my nieces and nephews when they were still infants. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever—”

  Deborah stood and held the crying infant out to him. “Jeremiah is teething and none too happy about it. Maybe he’ll respond better to a man. And here’s his Binky, which he won’t take from me, and also his blanket.”

  And with an obvious wink at Susannah, Deborah picked up her giant purse and fled the room.

  “That was embarrassing,” Susannah muttered.

  “What was embarrassing, and how do I get this kid to stop crying?”

  “First of all, stop holding him at arm’s length as if he’s a fish you just caught.”

  “Oh.”

  “Closer. Snuggle him like you would a newborn.”

  “I don’t know how to snuggle a newborn.”

  “Okay. First, sit down.” She’d been rocking Mary Lynn, a sweet six-week-old whose mamm looked as if she was going to fall asleep on her feet. Susannah laid the child in a playpen that had been set up in the corner of the room, covered her with a blanket and then returned to Micah’s side.

  He was staring at Jeremiah as if he’d never seen a crying baby before. As for Jeremiah, his cries had reached a fever pitch.

  “Sit.”

  “Here?”

  “Sit and rock. I’ll fetch a bottle.”

  When she returned to the room, it was quiet. Micah had the baby lying on his belly across his knees and was rubbing his back.

  “Huh.”

  “Huh, what? Did you think I didn’t know how to quiet a baby?”

  “Quite obviously, you didn’t. You said as much when you walked in.”

  “True, but I tried this once with a puppy I found that seemed miserable. I think he’d eaten some hamburger that had gone rancid...”

  “Please don’t tell me any more.”

  “The thing had vomited once, and he started howling. Mutt looked so pitiful that I finally went to the front porch and put him across my knees, just like this. And it worked, just like with...” He stared quizzically down at the child.

  “Jeremiah.”

  “Ya. Anyway, I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Have you, now?” Baby Hannah was happily lying on her back on an old quilt and trying to catch her toes, but Susannah picked her up anyway. She suddenly needed something to do with her hands.

  “Come on. Out with it. You’re avoiding me.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because it’s obvious you are. What gives?”

  Susannah sighed. There was simply no avoiding difficult conversations with Micah. He was too direct.

  “I’ve never been called in by my dat before.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “And I didn’t like it one bit. Plus, I’m ashamed that I embarrassed him.”

  “You didn’t embarrass him. I don’t think he even really cared. It was that old guy, Atlee, who was stirring up trouble.”

  “I’m the bishop’s doschder, Micah.”

  “And that means you can’t have any fu
n?”

  “That means I’m held to a higher standard.”

  “Sounds like pride to me. Didn’t we learn at our meeting on Monday that pride is a sin?”

  “Now you’re mocking me.”

  “Nein, I’m not.”

  Baby Jeremiah had fallen asleep, and apparently Micah’s knees had, too. He raised the baby to his shoulder, trying to mirror the way that Susannah was holding Hannah. It was such a funny sight, Micah juggling a baby and a blanket and a pacifier, that Susannah had trouble hanging on to her anger.

  Anger.

  The sermon that morning had been on anger. The wrath of man does not work the righteousness of God.

  Susannah sighed. It seemed that in matters of Micah, whether she turned left or right, she was facing some sort of dilemma.

  “I’m sorry we got in trouble about the picnic and the fishing, but as your dat said, it wasn’t that we did anything wrong, only that we weren’t thinking of how it might be viewed by others.”

  “So you were listening.”

  “Of course I was listening. I like your dat.”

  Which made her smile. He said it so simply, as if it were an obvious fact. “I like him, too.”

  “So would you like to go a movie next week?”

  “Uh-uh. No way.”

  “It’s a cartoon. Nothing at all racy about it.”

  “I’m not going to the movies.”

  “So you’re setting me free to ask someone else? Our deal... It’s over?” He smiled slyly at her. “Because I think your friend Deborah might have a thing for me.”

  “That is ridiculous.”

  “Is not.”

  “She left the room as soon as you walked in.”

  “So she’s a little shy.”

  He was incorrigible. But then again, she had agreed to be his sidekick for as long as he was here. Come to think of it, how much longer was he going to be in Goshen?

  “Any news on your moving back to Maine?”

  “Now you’re trying to get rid of me?”

  “I did not say that.”

  Micah’s laugh was sincere and hearty. It came from somewhere deep down in his belly. She’d never met anyone as good-natured as he was. In fact, if she were honest, Micah Fisher was a complete mystery to her.

  * * *

  Tuesday morning Micah still felt like he was in something of a funk. He hadn’t been too surprised when Susannah turned him down for going to the movies. It wasn’t forbidden, as long as they attended something G-rated or possibly PG, depending on the story. While it was true that most Amish folk didn’t waste money on things like movies, it was understood that youngies needed to be away from the farm occasionally.

  But he’d known before he asked that Susannah wouldn’t go. He’d paid attention to her reaction when her dat and Atlee had first called them in for The Lecture. That was how he thought about it—with capital letters. It wasn’t his first reprimand and probably wouldn’t be his last, but it was Susannah’s first. There was no doubt about that.

  She’d gone instantly rigid.

  Sure, she had supported him, but as the meeting had worn on, her shoulders had tensed and she’d clasped her hands so hard that he was afraid she was going to cut off the circulation.

  And then in the days immediately following, she’d started avoiding him.

  The plan was for them to meet with Thomas every Monday, which they had done twice now. It hadn’t been as terrible as Micah had feared. They’d discussed the Ordnung in general, events they were looking forward to and how they were feeling about their circumstances. Micah wasn’t big on talking about feelings—he had them, same as everyone else. But what was the point in dwelling on them?

  Did he feel like he’d been cast out from his home? Yes.

  Did he struggle against the restrictions of the Ordnung? Yes!

  Did he wish to remain Amish? Well, yes, of course he did. He simply didn’t understand why it had to be so difficult and confining.

  And so, he dithered. That was the only word for it and one his grandmother used—in fact, she’d accused him of that very thing just the day before. Micah, I love you more than the breath in my lungs, but you can dither more than any man or child I’ve ever met. He’d waited until he was in the barn brushing down the buggy horse to look up the meaning on his phone.

  Webster’s online claimed it meant to be indecisive.

  Well, the fact that he was standing in a horse stall using his cell phone pretty much confirmed that he was indecisive—at least about whether to join the church and commit to following the rules of the Ordnung for the rest of his life. Moreover, he didn’t see why he had to make a decision now. What was the rush? He probably had sixty years stretching in front of him. There was plenty of time to settle down and be a good Amish person.

  In the days immediately following The Lecture, he’d told himself none of this mattered.

  He often found himself once again calculating the date until his six months was up, but just looking at the days on the calendar filled him with dread. The immense amount of time that was left before he could even think about returning home, the idea of working every morning in the field and every afternoon in the farrier shop, the fact that he and Susannah hadn’t done anything fun in nearly ten days...it all depressed him.

  On the Tuesday after he’d talked to her in the nursery, he decided he might go crazy if he didn’t take a few hours off from the farm. Fortunately, he’d finished up in the farrier shop early. Thomas was having a business meeting with the other members of church leadership—something about the benevolence fund. Micah had the afternoon free, and he’d seen on his phone that the sports store in town was having a clearance sale.

  Few things cheered him up like a new hunting rifle or crossbow or fishing gear. His home town of Smyrna was located in the northeastern part of Maine, and was well-known for its fishing opportunities—whitefish, three kinds of trout and two kinds of bass. Just thinking about the fall fishing cheered him up, and he did have a little extra money in his pocket from working for Thomas. Certainly it wouldn’t hurt to spend part of it, and he could stop by Jo Jo’s Pretzels for a snack afterward.

  The thought of a few hours in town had him humming to himself. As he cleaned up and shelved the tools in Thomas’s shop, it occurred to him that the only thing that would make his plan better would be if Susannah went along with him. Not that he thought of her in any romantic way—she’d made it quite clear that she wasn’t interested in dating—but the girl needed some relaxation time.

  Whistling as he walked across the yard, he stuck his head into Susannah’s sewing shop, but the place was empty. In fact, it was terribly neat, as if she hadn’t been there all day. He started to climb the steps to knock on the front door, but he didn’t want to wake the twins if they were napping. They probably weren’t, but since it was so quiet, they might be.

  Then again, maybe Susannah was around back, working in the garden. He walked down the steps of the porch, around the house, and stopped short when he saw her sitting on the bench next to the garden.

  She was sitting in the sun, her head back and her eyes closed. Something caught in Micah’s throat. Susannah was a beautiful woman, and she didn’t seem to be aware of that fact at all. But it wasn’t that awareness that caused him to stand perfectly still staring at her.

  She must have washed her hair and was drying it in the sun. Her kapp lay on the bench beside her, and as he watched, she reached up a hand to run it through her hair—her beautiful, short brown hair. Then, as if she sensed him there, she turned to look at him. Her eyes widened, and Micah knew that there was no backing out of the situation. So instead he did what he always did: he plunged forward.

  It would seem that Susannah had secrets of her own, and he was about to find out exactly what and why she’d been keeping them from him.

  He strode over to whe
re she was sitting and straddled the bench. He didn’t say anything, deciding to let her lead the conversation, but it was hard to just sit there and wait. He had an overwhelming urge to reach out and run his fingers through her hair. He could see now that it only fell an inch past her ears. The look was so incongruous—an Amish woman with bobbed hair—that he honestly didn’t know what to say.

  When he’d waited as long as he could, he finally stated the obvious, “Must be hair-washing day.”

  “Ya.”

  Maybe it was the way she looked up shyly at him, but Micah could no longer resist. He reached out and ran his hand over the top of her head, trailing the golden brown strands to her neck. Her hair felt like silk in his fingers. He wanted to run his fingers through it, but he knew that would be inappropriate, so instead he crossed his arms and said, “Short hair looks gut on you.”

  “That’s it?”

  “What?”

  “That’s all you’re going to say?”

  Micah shrugged, doing his best to look nonchalant. “I suppose there’s a story there, but if you wanted to tell me, you would.”

  “Astute.”

  “I am all ears, if you have an urge to share. Finished my work in the shop, cleaned up everything and was just...you know...hanging out.”

  “You want to go somewhere.”

  “Maybe.”

  “And you don’t want to go alone.”

  “I go places alone.”

  Susannah’s grin spread, but then she spied her kapp sitting between them and snatched it off the bench.

  “Your hair’s almost dry.”

  “Doesn’t take very long, not like when I was younger.”

  And then, he did what he’d told himself he wasn’t going to do—he asked.

  “Why’s your hair short, Susannah? I’m the renegade here, so I know you didn’t cut it because of a dare or a wild urge.”