Her Surprise Amish Match
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Pamela Desmond Wright
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Chapter One
Ethan Zehr watched the hustle of activity outside the window of his kaffeeshop. Workers with boxes were going in and out of the retail space across from his as the new owner labored diligently to make her mark on the neighborhood.
His brow furrowed as he took in the sight; he had not been consulted about the incoming change in proprietors. The fact that he had been left out of the loop irritated him. Still, there was nothing he could do about it.
Frowning, he shook his head. His reflection in the glass returned a grimace.
“There she goes again.”
Lowering his newspaper, his daed looked up. “There goes who?”
“Amity Schroder. You know—that fraulein who is opening the new store. She’s got all sorts of people bringing in all sorts of gewgaws.”
Daed thumbed through the rest of the news. “Don’t see that it’s any concern of yours. Better to have another business there rather than have it sitting empty. More customers are always welcome.”
“I’d hoped to buy that side when it came up for sale. I wanted to knock down these walls in the middle and expand our seating space.”
“I thought Charlotte Dekker’s familie would give you that option. But it looks like Tanner had other ideas. Sold it right out from under you, didn’t he?”
“Ja. Tanner promised he would give me first consideration after his grossmammi closed the quilt shop.” Prickling with disappointment, Ethan turned away from the scene outside. Reaching for the dish towel draped over one shoulder, he then wiped his hands. “Guess he wasn’t a man of his word.”
“At least the new owner is Amish.”
Ethan’s frown deepened. “Not the sort I’d welcome as a neighbor.”
“What’s the matter with her?” The old man lowered his head, peering over the edge of thick black rims. “We’ve spoken a few times. She seems nice enough.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. She’s got a fresh mouth and likes to argue.”
“Seems to me the girl’s got grit.” After clearing his gravelly throat, Wayne Zehr chuckled. “Maybe if you’d try smiling instead of snapping, she’d be a little friendlier.”
Ethan declined to answer. He hadn’t slept well the night before. His restless mind kept him tossing and turning. They’d only lived in Burr Oak for a few months. Everything was unfamiliar. The change had been hard, but necessary. Working day and night, he was determined to make the new venture a success. Fail, and he’d lose everything.
He rubbed his tired eyes, then glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten to six. The doors hadn’t opened yet, but the day was already filled with activity. Plain folks rose before the sun to start work, and the vendors supplying the goods expected someone to be available as they made their rounds. Gemma Stutz had already dropped off the muffins and cinnamon rolls she baked fresh every day. Jonah Hoffman’s butcher shop, too, had delivered the best cuts of deli meat. And Dottie Weaver never failed to bring in loaves of her home-baked bread for the sandwiches served at lunchtime. In another hour, the morning rush would begin as people lined up to grab a hot drink and a quick breakfast before heading to work. He silently vowed to make his little corner café the best in town; customers had already begun to talk about the quality of his beverages and the comfort of his service.
He walked behind the counter. “Miss Schroder is nice enough, I’m sure,” he said, flicking on the propane-powered appliances. “But she’s too progressive for my tastes. Don’t know if you saw it, but she’s brought in a computer.” As he spoke, his mind flitted back to the day he’d heard the retail space occupying the other half of the building had a new owner. Turned out in a blue frock, white apron, black hose and flats, the petite woman’s outfit was simple but smartly worn. A white kapp covered her hair. Dark locks were pinned into a tight bun, but a few strands managed to escape. The curls brushed her intelligent brow, adding a glimmer of mischief to her youthful demeanor. She’d introduced herself right away. Full of energy and ideas, she smiled and laughed often.
She was also more than willing to stand up and speak her mind.
Not the way a lady should act at all.
“These Texas Amish do things we might not.” A shrug rolled off his daed’s shoulders. “Don’t know if it’s a bad thing. Just different.”
Ethan sniffed with disapproval. “Back in Augsberger, Bishop Swarey would never have granted permission for the use of unnecessary electronics.”
Daed folded his newspaper and set it aside. A monthly release, Thrifty Living featured a little bit of everything for the local Plain community—word-of-mouth news jawed over a neighbor’s fence, at a livestock auction, or in a sewing circle. “We’re not in Oklahoma anymore.”
“Guess not.”
“Since we live here now, it’s up to us to adjust our ways.”
“I get what you’re saying. When in Rome, do as the Romans.” Frustrated, he pressed out a sigh. “Not sure I’d agree.”
“Ach, how is it I raised such a stick-in-the-mud? You sure took after your mamm. She always was too stiff and proper.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
Daed shook his head. “I loved Letha, Gott rest her soul. But she’d have been a happier woman if she’d learned to bend. Compromise is part of getting along in life.”
“I don’t feel comfortable doing that. Not when it concerns things our Ordnung forbids.”
“But theirs does not,” Daed countered. “If you don’t like it, petition the Leit to change it.”
“I might do that.” Mulling the idea, Ethan opened a canister. He scooped out a heap of whole-roasted kaffee beans, dumped them into a grinder and then cranked the handle until the remnants looked like coarse pepper. After pouring the grounds into a French press, he let the boiling water rest before adding it. Poured too hot, it would scorch the grounds and give the beverage a burned flavor.
Letting the grounds steep, he stirred them before placing the lid on the press. He pressed the plunger, pushing the blend down to the bottom of the carafe. The dark roast produced a rich brew. Created with raw beans from Costa Rica, the full-bodied brew was flavored with notes of cherry, honey and plum. He filled two cups and carried both to the café table where Daed sat.
“Better drink up. We’ll be opening soon.”
Leaning forward, Wayne inhaled the fragrant scent. “Ach, this is one of my better blends.” He gulped down a mouthful. A master crafter, he drank his hot and black. Adding anything else to it was an insult.
Ethan took a chair. He added a splash of cream, preferring to smooth the acidity. Unlike other cafés that relied on prepackaged blends, the kaffee he served was roasted and freshly ground every morning.
“I’m beginning to wonder if it was a mistake moving to Texas,” he said, unwilling to let the conversation drop. Burr Oak had a thriving Amish community, but their branch was a bit more permissive than he was accustomed to. Wary of worldly ideas and values, the Old Order settlement he was raised in kept Englischers at arm’s length to preserve the community and its values. And the use of electricity was verboten unless provided by generators or other means not connected to the city power grid. Cell phones and computers were also given a wide berth.
“You weren’t doing gut. You’ve struggled since Priscilla passed. So are Charity and Liam.”
Dropping his gaze, Ethan stared into the depths of his cup. The words pulled at his heartstrings even as a sense of helplessness washed through him. Priscilla’s sudden death had torn a gaping hole through their lives. Losing his mamm had turned their happy sohn into a sullen, angry teenager. Charity, too, had changed. Once a chatterbox, his daughter had grown quiet and uncommunicative.
Attempting to find a bit of warmth, his hands circled the stoneware mug. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I do. And you know it, too. You just won’t admit it.”
“The youngies need a mutter,” he said, repeating the sentence he’d heard a thousand times before.
“Aye. And you need a wife.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready. It’s not even been a year...” Unable to go any further, he let his words drift off.
“Prissy belongs to the Lord,” Daed said. “She is free from the sorrows of this world.”
Ethan swallowed against the rush of emotion pulsing through him. Grief continued to be a millstone, grinding his psyche down to nothing. Watching his ehefrau’s coffin as it was lowered into the cold ground had been a blow that had taken him to his knees.
“It’s not fair. What about those left behind?” Clenching his fingers, he pressed his fist against his chest. “My heart has a hole bigger than my hand. How do I fill it when it feels so empty?”
Daed returned a gentle look. “It doesn’t have to be. Cloaking yourself in grief—in the past—isn’t what the Lord intends for us to do. Instead of weeping, rejoice that Gott has prepared a place for us in heaven.”
Looking back, Ethan felt a tremble beneath his skin. Waves of memories crashed through his mind, each slamming in harder than the last. Barely eighteen when he’d married Priscilla, he’d imagined spending his life with her, raising their youngies as they transitioned into a ripe old age. He’d meant every word when they’d taken their vows. To love her. To cherish her. To protect her. But Gott hadn’t seen fit to grant them much time together.
He managed a breath. And then another. “I don’t feel any joy.”
Daed shifted, placing a firm hand on his arm. “It’s time to move on, sohn. You have to live again.”
“I am trying.” And he was. Desperately. But the agony tearing through him left him feeling vulnerable. Defenseless. How did a man recover from losing the love of his life? He wasn’t sure. He’d never imagined his dear Priscilla would be the first to pass. She died after a bout with pneumonia. A delicate woman, she’d struggled for years with her health.
Daed leaned back. “It’s hard, I know. But you need to think about Liam and Charity. Your youngies need a woman in the haus.” He stroked his long gray beard. A bit on the scraggly side, he only trimmed it twice a year, for Christmas and Easter. “A helpmeet would go a long way toward easing your burden.”
Ethan blinked against the moisture blurring his vision. “Since I’ve no one to marry, I suppose I could hire a housekeeper.”
Daed shook his head. A squint etched the edges of his eyes. “You could. But how long would that last? You are still a young man. And you want more kinder. Ja?”
“I do. Many more.” He spread his hands in frustration. “But it’s been a long time since I’ve courted. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“Why don’t you start with letters? Some folks are shy and prefer to put their thoughts on paper before they meet in person.” Daed tapped the newspaper with a finger. “In the socials section, there are frauleins requesting pen pals. That might be a nice way to meet a few ladies. You could start by exchanging notes and see how you like it.”
“Nay,” he said, brushing off the suggestion. “I prefer the old-fashioned way. In person.” Daed was persistent when it came to the idea he needed to remarry right away. Of course, he’d like to. But he didn’t want to rush into a relationship, either. When an Amish man settled on his helpmeet, it was for life. Choose the wrong woman and he’d be stuck.
“Suit yourself.” Daed shook a finger. “But you need someone before this familie falls apart.”
“I know...” He scrubbed a hand across his bearded face. As a widower, he was entitled to shave it off. But he couldn’t. Not yet. He wasn’t ready.
“Believe me when I say I only want what is best for you and my enkelkinder.” Offering a smile of encouragement, Daed put a hand on his arm. “Maybe you could sit down and try to write a letter. It doesn’t have to be your whole life. Just reach out and say hello. It wouldn’t hurt you to make a lady friend.”
Ethan glanced at the newspaper. It wasn’t uncommon for the Amish to do their courting through the mail. “I’ll try.” Not now, but maybe later. He’d never been much for putting his thoughts on paper.
The conversation thankfully didn’t have a chance to go further.
Charity poked her head out of the kitchen. Now twelve, she was required to dress in a manner that wouldn’t attract unwanted attention. Her ankle-length dress was cut from coarse gray fabric, as were her apron and head covering. Her prayer kapp, too, had subtle differences from those worn by the Burr Oak Amish. The style was more akin to a headscarf, flat and unpleated. Loosely fitting around the head, it tucked up beneath her hair, hiding every tendril. Two strings tied under her chin held it securely in place.
“There’s a man at the back door asking to come into the utility room.”
Ethan froze. “Now, why would that be?”
“He said something about installing the broadband.”
“I never ordered that.” Leaving his kaffee, Ethan pushed away from the table. He rose and rounded the counter.
“I think he’s here for the lady next door. I heard her talking to that Englisch fellow who works with her. He was saying he needed it installed for the stuff he was doing.” More than a little excited, Charity grinned. “He said the whole building will have Wi-Fi.”
Ethan bristled. Since claiming the keys to her side, Amity Schroder had been making changes to the property. Changes he didn’t agree to. As tenants-in-common, each was supposed to have a fifty-fifty say on such matters. Rudely, she’d consulted him on nothing.
“I’ll not allow the devil’s contrivance to be installed.”
“Don’t think there’s anything you can do,” Daed called from behind.
Ethan’s attention swung between his daughter and father. “We will see about that.”
Raising his eyebrows, Daed shot back a quizzical look. A smile lingered around the upturned edges of his mouth. “Go with Gott.” Chuckling, he plucked a pencil out of his pocket, then jotted a few letters on the crossword puzzle.
Spurred into action, Ethan stomped through the kitchen toward the back alley. A service tech in a brown uniform waited by a large white van. Clipboard in hand, the man had come prepared to do his job.
Not going to happen. If Amity Schroder wanted an argument, then she would have one.
Hands on her hips, Amity Schroder surveyed her new shop. The retail space she’d recently purchased was still in disarray. Now that the display cases and other shelving had arrived, merchandise needed to be unpacked. Up with the sun, her staff was hard at work.
Blowing out a breath, she brushed a few stray curls away from her face. When she’d opened her booth at the local farmer’s market, she’d never envisioned her hobby would grow into a proper business. Seeking a way to make a little pin money, she’d peddled things the ranch produced in abundance—fresh honey from the beehives and holistic teas made from plants she grew herself. She also made potpourri and other items such as soaps and skin ointments. Within hours, she’d sold every item. That day, Amity’s Amish Amenities was born.
Five years had passed in the blink of an eye. Saving every penny earned, she’d invested in a permanent location. Searching high and low, she’d finally found the perfect storefront. Some of the things she liked about the building were its charming brick facade, overhanging awning and large open bay windows. The design harkened back to a bygone era, when people were more accustomed to strolling on foot. Large rectangular picture windows overlooked the shared foyer from both sides. There were also two apartments on the second floor, which made the property worth investing in. Built by Amish craftsmen, it was cleverly powered by solar and propane.
Grateful, she sent up a quick prayer. “Danke, Gott, for leading me here.”
With the Lord’s help and hard work, she’d found her niche. No longer a one-woman operation, her staff included two shopgirls. She’d also hired an Englisch tech to design and manage her new website. Shoppers often inquired about ordering online. It only made sense to offer the opportunity. She’d also branched out into consignment work, giving other Amish women a place to sell their crafts.
A sudden sharp bang interrupted.
“You in there,” a deep male voice called.
Startled, Amity turned toward the entrance. Expecting a serviceman, she’d left the foyer entrance unlocked.
Recognizing the intruder, she winced. Dressed in traditional Amish clothes covered by a denim apron, the man’s electric blue eyes snapped above a fierce frown. Dark curls blended into his sideburns and beard.
Ach, not this fellow again.
Heart thudding, Amity forced herself to stay calm. For all the advantages the location offered, the only bad thing was the owner of the kaffeehaus. The real estate agent who’d handled the transaction assured her the proprietor of the neighboring retail space was a Plain familie man.
Only part of that was true.
He was Amish.
He was also as cantankerous as an old mule.
A tall man in his early thirties, Ethan Zehr was the most disagreeable person she’d ever had the misfortune to deal with. Since the day she’d acquired the keys to her half, he’d made it a point to argue over every detail. He didn’t seem to like anything about her.
Determined not to be ignored, Ethan banged harder. “Open up!”
“It’s not locked.” She made a motion with her hand indicating that he should enter. “Come in.”
The bell jingled as he pushed open the door. Without offering a proper morning greeting, he launched straight into his complaint.
“There’s a man in the alley with a van,” he sputtered. “He says he’s here to install the internet.”
“Ja. I ordered it. As soon as it’s set up, there will be internet access for our customers.”
Snorting with disapproval, his direct gaze never wavered. “You’ll do no such thing.”
Amity barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. She’d already dealt with Ethan more than she cared to. As far as he was concerned, not a thing she did was proper.
“I need it,” she said simply.
“The internet is not a need. It is a want,” he corrected, staring down the bridge of his nose with disapproval. “Or have you forgotten the Bible warns against desires that can lead us astray.”
Lacing her hands together, Amity forced herself to maintain a civil tone. Gott also counseled that one should love their enemy. But she was finding it extremely difficult to tolerate him.
“It isn’t for my personal use. The Ordnung states we may install such utilities for our Englisch employees to use,” she explained, gesturing toward the computer sitting on the counter. New in the box, it had yet to be unpacked. “The young man I hired needs it for his job.”
Nostrils flaring, Ethan surveyed the offending machine. “This is not acceptable. At all.” Having had his say, he crossed his arms.
Amity crossed her own and held her place. While her stature wasn’t any match for his superior height, she was determined to stand up for herself. Ethan was doing everything in his power to ruffle her feathers. Holding himself as a standard bearer was one thing. But attacking her character when she’d done nothing wrong was quite another. As one baptized in the church, she’d pledged her life to serve Gott, her familie and her gemeinschaft.
“There is no reason for you to be argumentative. Perhaps it would ease your mind to speak to Bishop Harrison. I am sure he would be happy to clarify matters.”
Expression tightening, he shot her a narrow look. “Oh, you can guarantee I’ll be speaking with the bishop. This very morning if I can arrange it.”
“Please do.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You’ve quite the confidence.”
“I speak for myself and in my defense.” Her legs quivered beneath her weight, but she had no intention of backing down.
An awkward pause passed between them.
Frown deepening, he cleared his throat. “Then it’s settled.” Stomping toward the door, he threw back a final warning. “I’ve sent the serviceman away. There will be nothing more done until the matter is clarified.”
That said, he left.
Staring in his wake, Amity released her pent-up breath. Folks like Ethan made it hard to turn the other cheek. Since the meters and wiring needed to install the Wi-Fi were on his side of the property, he had the upper hand.
Shaking her head, she pressed a hand against her middle. Her stomach was a mass of knots and nerves. Arguing wasn’t the best way to begin the day, but she was determined not to let Ethan’s resistance deter her plans. Anxious and behind schedule, she had a lot to do. His visit had only served to waste time. The days were ticking away.
“Lord, keep me grounded,” she murmured. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have sworn he was one of the Ely’s Bluff Amish. Taciturn and aloof, they’d recently begun integrating into the Burr Oak congregation after the passing of their elderly bishop. Fiercely resistant to change, they were reluctant to embrace any sort of technology. The differing outlooks often led to a clash of values.
She didn’t doubt Ethan meant to do everything he said. If a complaint against another was made, the offender would be summoned to explain. Handing out disciplinary actions to those who strayed from acceptable behavior was only one of the bishop’s many duties.
It didn’t worry her that she might be judged out of compliance. She’d already consulted Bishop Harrison and received permission to proceed. If Ethan wanted to take a fool out of himself...well, that was his concern.
Determined not to let his complaints rattle her, Amity blew out a breath.
The man’s impossible. How will we ever get along?
