A Husband for an Amish Bride
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Christina Rich
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Chapter One
Naomi Lambright hobbled toward the dangling clothesline and sighed at the clothes lying on the ground. The kinder’s black mourning clothes, mingled with the white aprons on the wheat-colored tuffs of dormant grass, mocked the battle in her heart.
Soon, she and her younger siblings would shed the clothes, but at what cost? The farm? The kinder?
If she did not marry before their mourning period was over, Naomi would lose everything. It was her daed’s will. His last wish. She bent to gather the clothes and pressed little Daniel’s shirt to her face. If she accepted any of the offers the bishop had presented so far, Daniel would be sent to a distant relative, as would Zeke. It seemed none of her prospective grooms wanted a five-year-old boy who couldn’t speak except with what little sign language they tried to teach him. Even when he did use them, the jerky movements were hard to understand, even for Naomi, who attempted to work with him every day. Her potential husbands certainly didn’t seem to want Zeke, a rambunctious three-year-old. She tossed their shirts into the basket and worked on gathering her sisters’ dresses. The smaller ones well-worn from being handed down from sister to sister. Naomi clenched the small black fabric in her hand and brought it to her nose. This one had belonged to her, then to each of her four younger sisters, ranging from fifteen to seven, when the occasion warranted. Except for Abigail. She would have been twenty-two, a year younger than Naomi. The dress had been Naomi’s first memory of wearing mourning. Almost eighteen years had passed, and Naomi still felt the hole left by Abigail’s sunny presence. Of course, her sister had been close to her in age and they’d been each other’s playmates, and then she was gone, all because Naomi hadn’t been quick enough to pull her back into the store before an Englischer’s car swept over her.
How had an Englischer’s vehicle changed the course of their family, not once but twice? The first being Abigail all those years ago, and then her parents, almost a year ago now.
She held out the small black dress for one last look. Soon, Annie, only seven and the youngest of her sisters, would outgrow it and it would be packed away, too. Until another little girl came along, or until Naomi saw fit to give it away.
Sighing, Naomi dropped the dress into the basket. When she married, would her husband have a little girl who could wear the dress? She cringed at the thought. Only one of the marriage offers she received allowed Caleb to come with her. There were no concessions made for the others. At twelve, Caleb could work hard. Daniel and Zeke were too young for the more difficult farm work. And the girls? She didn’t understand the reasoning behind her suitors’ refusal to allow the girls a place in their home. Especially since Rachel, who was fifteen; Hannah, Caleb’s twin; and Sara eleven, could all keep house. But if Naomi didn’t marry before the deadline, she’d be forced to send all her siblings to distant relatives. Strangers. The older kinder would adjust. They would understand, better than Naomi, she supposed, but the younger ones—a terrible ache sliced through her chest at the thought of sending them away—they would forget their life here, forget Naomi, too. At least she would have Caleb.
It didn’t seem right, and she couldn’t help wondering if Abe Dienner hadn’t taken off before their wedding two years ago, she’d still have to choose between the biggest parts of her heart. Then again, if she hadn’t been born with a twisted foot that often left her slow and unstable on her feet, Daed wouldn’t have felt that she was unfit to care for the farm and all the kinder.
And she would be more than capable of repairing the clothesline without hesitation.
She lifted her face to the morning sun. Her breath pressed into the cooler air, and then she drew in a shaky breath. The scent of decaying leaves and freshly harvested fields was proof they were deep into fall. Soon winter would knock on their door, and they would hang the clothes inside to dry, but for now they’d take advantage of the spring-like weather.
With trembling hands, Naomi carefully climbed the ladder leaning against the T-post, making sure her foot didn’t catch the side and knock her over. Once at the top, she reached out for the frayed rope and carefully threaded it through the hole of the clothesline pole and then tugged it taut until the remaining clothes on the line cleared the overgrown grass. She looped the rope as if tying off one of her quilts and pulled the rolled knot tight. Pieces of the frayed rope spun, but Naomi held on to it with what strength she could muster. The line snapped. The force flung Naomi’s arms over her head. The ladder rolled away from the post, and her twisted, awkward foot caught in the rung. Her leg slipped through, the rung jabbing into her knee. She cried out and tried to reach for the post, but the ladder tilted back. Her arms flailed as her body raced toward the ground.
“Umph.” Air rushed out of her lungs as her shoulders hit the ground and the ladder landed on her.
Dazed, she stared up at the brilliant blue sky, dotted with puffy white clouds, and waited for her breath to return. After a long gasp, she turned and noticed how close she’d come to the tree stump. Another two inches and she would have hit her head. Denki, Gotte! For sure and for certain, it was not Gotte’s will for her to be seriously injured, leaving the young ones without another caretaker, only ten months after the death of their parents.
Sputtering, she clenched her fists around the ladder and untangled herself from the hard wooden pieces. She fought back the angry tears pushing their way past her resolve to not cry while the sun shone. Enough tears were shed into her pillow at night, and she vowed to never allow the kinder to see her cry.
How could she have been so stupid? She cut the thundering fear from her chest and slowed her breathing. A twisted ankle or, worse, a broken leg would have kept them in a bind, leaving her unable to do her share of the chores, and it was already difficult keeping up with them. Who was she kidding? A terrible injury would have half the county and all their distant relatives telling her she should have married and pointing out she was too young to care for so many kinder. The other half would quickly divide the kinder among them. The farm belonged to her brudres and schwesters. It was their home, and they belonged on the farm. How could she marry any man who expected her to send the kinder to live with relatives? Not a single man showed interest in courting her before her parents’ death except Abe, and he’d left the community without a word.
She sighed.
The farm lured in the single Amish men of Garnett, Kansas, and the surrounding communities liked Amish baked goods and those lured the Englischers to the roadside markets. And she felt like a sideshow spectacle.
She rolled one leg, then the other. The twisted and bent one. It sent a sharp pain through her ankle and up to her shin, straight to her knee. She pounded her fist against the hard ground as she emitted a low growl. She needed to do better. If she was going to keep the kinder together, she had to do better for them.
“I will lie here a moment. Two minutes. Then all will be well,” she told herself. Please, Gotte, let everything be all right. We can’t afford an injury. Not now.
It was disheartening to know the gmay was waiting for her to give up and let the kinder go. It would probably be easier on her if she did, but she couldn’t bring herself to give up. She loved them too much. They were her heart. The gmay meant well. She knew that, but what they thought best for her brudres and schwesters contradicted what Naomi wanted. What she needed. She could not—would not—allow the Lambright kinder to be divided among mere strangers, even if they carried the same blood.
Tearing them apart could not be Gotte’s will, could it?
I need a helpmate, Gotte. One who does not mind the kinder and will work hard.
A shadow drifted over her. Shielding the sunlight from her face. Rose, one of their milk cows, nibbled the grass beside Naomi’s arm.
“Ach, jah, you have a sense of humor, sending an escape artist to my rescue.”
A hearty chuckle startled her, and then a strong, calloused palm reached toward her to help her up. She sucked in a sharp breath and tried to sink farther into the ground. Naomi’s gaze slid past Rose’s boney black-and-white shoulder to find the silhouette of a man looking down at her. She shielded her eyes for a better look, and her heart nearly stopped beating all together.
“Hello, Naomi.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. For sure and for certain, she had hit her head harder than she’d thought because there Abe Dienner stood in a dark pair of pants, his chocolate-colored eyes standing out against a light green shirt, looking as handsome as ever. Suspenders fit snug over his broad, muscular shoulders. Brown curls spilled from beneath his hat, teasing his collar. His bare cheeks no longer held the chubbiness of youth, but the sharp angles of a man. A handsome man, too.
Lifting onto her elbow, Naomi ran her fingers over her head and beneath her kapp, searching for a bump. Because hitting her head was the only explanation for why Abe Dienner stood in front of her, holding on to Rose’s halter with one hand and a rather worn-out suitcase in the other. Why was he here? She thought he’d left Garnett for good. If he was here to offer marriage as so many others had the last few months, she would pick herself up off the ground and chase him off their property.
Hysterical laughter bubbled inside her until it spilled forth. What a grand way to keep the morning on track with one disaster after another. The corner of his mouth quirked on one side. He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind, and maybe with all the worry plaguing her about which husband to choose, she had.
“What are you doing with Rose?” she asked.
Ridiculous as it was, it was all she could think of saying. Rose always found a way out of the enclosure, and they were forever chasing her down, hoping they’d catch her before someone else did. Naomi would have to see about securing the latch on the gate.
“I found her out on the road,” Abe said, dropping his outstretched hand to his side when she refused his help.
That was not the answer she wanted. She wanted to know what he, Abe Dienner, was doing back in Garnett and why he was on her farm looking more handsome than ever. Before she could ask, the slamming of the screen door jolted her to awareness.
Zeke, her three-year-old brother, collapsed onto his knees beside her and asked, “Nomi, you die, too?”
She caught the look of concern in Abe’s eyes, and she drew in a breath for courage. “No, liebling, I did not die, too.”
He stroked his little fingers over her brow, his little puffs of breath mingled with the frosty morning air smelling like a blueberry muffin. She blinked away the discouragement weighing heavy on her chest and pasted on a smile, not for Abe’s sake, but for Zeke’s. She had to keep up the facade for her siblings. They couldn’t see the sadness in her heart. It was the only way to keep them from being sad, too. She clasped Zeke’s little hand in hers and said, “Please, help me up, Zeke.”
“Here, let me.”
Faster than she could reject his offer, Abe had closed the distance between them and clasped his hands under her arms until she was leaning against him for support. Black licorice, a scent she’d come to think of as only belonging to Abe, filled her, and memories of their courtship flooded her. Sitting beside him in the buggy. Holding hands as they took walks after lunch with her family. The joy she’d felt back then, with the promise of a future with the man she thought she loved, threatened to overwhelm her, until she recalled the aftermath of his rejection. The only memory of Abe Dienner worth holding on to was his broken promise. Of that she was certain.
She snagged hold of the T-post and waved him off. “Denki.”
Abe stepped back, but kept a careful eye on Naomi, inspecting her for injury. He didn’t see anything beyond her refusal to place weight on her foot and the obvious distress marring her brow and crinkling the corners of her eyes.
Blond curls sprung from her kapp and danced in the midmorning breeze. Her apron held the hint of egg and flour from the morning baking. And even though the black dress told him she continued to mourn her parents, she was like sunshine on his face after months of dark clouds and heavy rain. The sight of her bare feet this late in November nearly made him smile. And for one small moment, it felt good to be home, but Garnett wasn’t his home anymore. He didn’t belong here. His daed made that clear.
“I am sorry about your parents.”
Naomi’s bright blue eyes widened. They held him, and he was unsure if he’d said the wrong thing, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say to break the awkwardness between them. Mentioning her parents’ deaths had obviously been inappropriate. He shuffled the toe of his boot into the shin-high grass. The accident had been over ten months ago.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” His apology was long overdue and nothing more than a reminder she probably wanted to forget. The stack of letters he’d begun to write to her remained on the small desk next to the oil lamp in the room he used at his cousin’s home. His intentions had been good and real, but each time after penning her name, he lost the courage to write more.
He would have returned for the funeral, but he was uncertain if his presence would cause consequences for Mamm and Levi. Besides, even though he’d been taught to turn the other cheek, he hadn’t been ready to face his fater or the anger that continued to stir whenever he thought of seeing Daed again. Even now, the urge to ball his fists was strong. Only the gnawing in his gut these past weeks, and Aunt Esther’s concern at not having seen Mamm in a while, had propelled him to come back to Garnett. He needed to see with his own eyes that Levi and Mamm had suffered little during his absence.
He cleared his throat and was about to say more when the black-and-white milk cow he’d found roaming the road nudged him. Reaching out, he rubbed the cow’s nose and asked, “She goes in the field beside the big white barn, jah?”
The Lambright farm hosted two large barns and a few smaller outbuildings. The large white barn had been used to milk the cows and house the two draft horses used for plowing the smaller fields. The bigger metal building was used for various other things such as woodworking and mending broken implements. Naomi’s father wasn’t against some modern conveniences. He even had a tractor for the larger fields, but he’d once told Abe he believed in teaching his sons the old ways, too. Knowledge is good, jah? And knowing there is more than one way to get the job done, and having the ability to do them, is wise, Jeremiah Lambright had said.
Naomi bobbed her chin and held her hand out to the small boy squatting in the grass, inspecting something crawling on the ground. “Come along, Zeke. We should go to the house.”
Zeke jumped up and took her hand. Naomi cried out the moment she put weight on her leg and fell against the clothesline post. Her knuckles burned white around the pole. Etched pain sharpened the soft contours of her oval-shaped face.
Abe reached toward her and laid his hand on her shoulder. “You’re injured.”
She flinched away from him and bit out, “I. Am. Fine.”
“Nomi hurt.” Zeke gazed up at him in concern.
“Yes,” Abe said.
“No,” she replied with less bark and more calmness. “I am fine.”
“You can’t stand on your leg.”
She scowled at him. Tears filled her eyes. Were they hurt tears? Frustrated? Or were they angry ones directed at him? Did she wish he would leave?
“Come,” he said as he wrapped her arm over his shoulder and supported her weight. “I’ll help you to the house.”
He was pleased when she didn’t argue, but also concerned. The woman he remembered had always been strong-willed and determined to do things on her own, never asking or expecting help. He’d admired that in her. That had drawn him to her, and spurred him to ask her for buggy rides and sit next to her during singings.
He should have known better, though. He should have known, deep in his heart, he couldn’t marry without subjecting a woman to the life his mother had lived. He feared becoming his daed and the night he’d left Garnett, he knew his biggest fear had come true when he’d nearly hit his fater to get him off his bruder, Levi. As it was, Abe had thrown his daed off, slamming him into the wall. He shuddered with shame at his behavior. He should have found a way to intervene without violence.
He pushed the memory away and helped Naomi sit on the white wooden chair nearby, and then, crouching, he cupped the area beneath her calf, her skin cool from being outside. He looked into her eyes and asked, “May I?”
At the flush of her cheeks, he thought to leave her alone, but she nodded. He gingerly ran his hand over the baseball-sized ankle. He emitted a whistle and glanced up at her. “You need a doctor.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“If it’s the money—”
“No!” she said, her fingers twisting in her apron. “I can’t go to the doctor.”
“Naomi,” he said, not understanding her refusal. “This looks bad.”
“I know,” she responded with more tears. “I’ve endured the ugliness of my foot my whole life.”
He shifted on the balls of his feet, uncertain how to reassure her he didn’t find anything about her ugly. She was beautiful. He’d always thought so, but it had been more than her delicate beauty that had drawn him to her; she had an inner strength and courage. And even more so, she never used her slightly uneven gait as an excuse for idleness. She always worked harder than others whenever they gathered for community events, never sitting or taking breaks. She always bustled around like a tiny hummingbird. Tendrils of sorrow brushed against his conscience. If only he hadn’t been born Abe Dienner, then maybe he could have married her. But married life wasn’t for him, his daed made certain of that.
Abe drew his hand over the swelling of her ankle and beneath the curve of her foot. He knew from one of their nightly walks she’d been born with a club foot that stubbornly refused to respond to any of the remedies her parents had tried, and although Naomi’s father didn’t mind certain modern conveniences, he didn’t trust the Englischer doctors. Was that why she didn’t want to go? His fingers tensed over the purpling flesh. “No, Naomi, your ankle is swollen. You need a doctor.”
“Please, I can’t.” Watery blue eyes tore into him, scratching at walls he’d erected when he’d left Garnett. “No one can see me like this.”
“But, Naomi...” he said.
“No.” Her small whisper tugged at him, working him like a plow to the ground. He didn’t understand her reasoning, but decided he wouldn’t press the issue.
Zeke’s tiny hand fluttered against Abe’s thigh. Abe glanced down at Naomi’s little bruder crouching next to him, his dark eyebrows pressed together in worry. “Nomi okay?”
Abe’s breath hitched at the kinder’s question, but he didn’t need to answer him as the boy soon became distracted by an insect, and crawling on his hands and knees, Zeke followed the bug across the porch. For a moment, Abe wished life was as simple as examining bugs through a child’s eyes, but he wouldn’t want to repeat his childhood and the pain inflicted upon him all those years.
Dislodging the memories from his thoughts, he took a cushion from the rocker beside Naomi and propped her foot on a milk crate. Her pleading eyes warred with what he knew should be done, but he felt he owed her for leaving her as he had, with no explanation. But he couldn’t have shared the burden of his shame or the dark secrets of the Dienner family, not with anyone, not his aunt, not the bishop and especially not with Naomi. She would only have touched the back of his hand in that gentle way of hers and stubbornly offered understanding and kindness until he accepted it. Naomi Lambright was, by far, too good for the likes of him.
He stood and hooked his thumbs around his suspenders. She needed a doctor, but he couldn’t refuse the pleading in her eyes. “All right, we won’t go to the doctor, for now,” he said as he glanced around the farm for a buggy or anything he could use to get her to town if she changed her mind. He thanked Gotte when he noticed the old blue tractor Naomi’s father had used for farming, parked next to the buggy with a bent wheel. Gut, they weren’t without transportation, he thought. “However, I can’t promise I won’t load you up on the tractor and take you to town if I feel it’s necessary.”
Her jaw fell open and her shoulders pulled straight as a yardstick. “You wouldn’t!”
“Jah, you have my word on that,” he said, keeping his tone flat, so she understood he was serious.
Abe flinched at Naomi’s snort. He studied her as the angles of her shoulders sharpened and she snapped her head high. “I suppose I have nothing to worry about then.”
He tilted his head to one side and scowled. “What do you mean by that?”
A younger, much shorter version of Naomi burst through the screen door on a scented wave of fresh, buttery baked bread. Abe’s stomach grumbled, reminding him it had been hours since he’d eaten. The girl crossed her arms and cocked her hip. “Have you finally come to marry my sister, then?”
