Her Amish Holiday Suitor. Carrie LighteЧитать онлайн книгу.
they cried as if there were no tomorrow, no matter how gentle or diplomatic he tried to be about ending their courtship.
To Nick it seemed the women he courted didn’t really care whether they were compatible with him. It was as if they were more interested in being married than being in a marriage relationship. Granted, there was no mandate requiring Nick to get married once he joined the church, but it was generally expected. Once he was baptized, the pressure—especially from his mother—would really kick in. So, by prolonging his rumspringa, Nick was securing his bachelorhood just a little longer. Meanwhile, someone new might move to town. After all, a spouse was a gift from the Lord, and who could say when and how the Lord might give him that gift?
Kevin spoke again, jarring Nick from his thoughts. “Jenny said if I pay for the repairs, she’ll hire a contractor and then she won’t have to tell her folks about the fire. So, can you lend me the money? Since we’re passing Jenny’s house on the way to Highland Springs, I sort of promised her I’d let her know tonight.”
“Are you narrish?” Nick asked, calling his brother crazy. “I cleaned out my savings to purchase Penny last spring.”
Penny, named for the color of his coat, was the horse Nick bought from an Amish man who had acquired the animal at a harness racing track. It wasn’t unusual for the Amish to purchase American standardbred horses, which were most commonly used for buggy pulling, and Penny was a particularly fine gelding. Only four years old, he was exceptionally fast and strong, although not quite up to competition speed. As such, he cost more than the four-thousand-dollar limit most of Willow Creek’s Amish spent on a horse, but Nick had saved for years. When he took Penny out for a test run, he immediately knew the swift, powerful, high-spirited animal was exactly what he wanted.
The cost was another point of contention between him and his parents, who thought it was foolish to splurge when an older, less expensive standardbred would have served his transportation needs adequately for years to come. His parents thought the purchase was prideful, but Nick wasn’t seeking admiration; it was the speed and agility the horse provided that drew Nick to him. True, Penny could only safely run so fast when he was hitched to the buggy, but Nick had made adjustments to streamline his buggy, too. Those adjustments had cost him every last cent he had, and he reiterated that he was in no position to help his brother financially.
“Oh.” In the dim light, Nick saw Kevin’s features droop as he lifted his hat and swiped at his forehead. “I guess I’m going to have to tell Daed then.”
“That’s not a gut idea. You know how concerned he’s been about finances ever since Harper’s Hardware opened across town. And you know how worried Mamm is about his blood pressure and stress levels.”
Kevin shrugged. “I don’t know what else to do.”
Nick rubbed his forehead. He didn’t know what else to do, either, but telling their father was the last thing he could allow. Not only was he concerned about adding to his parents’ burdens, but somehow Nick knew he’d get blamed for introducing Kevin to a group of “wild Englischers”—even if they were all very respectable Christians and the fire was solely Kevin’s fault. Undoubtedly, his father would be so angry about Kevin’s carelessness that he’d finally put his foot down about Nick’s rumspringa coming to an end, too. Nick couldn’t let that happen.
“Give me a minute. I’ll think of something,” he said.
Twenty-year-old Lucy Knepp dawdled in the kitchen, drying the last pot. Usually the Amish didn’t eat a large supper on the Sabbath, but there were so many leftovers from Thanksgiving they had dirtied half a dozen pans reheating the food. Lucy’s stepsisters, Mildred and Katura, stepped into the kitchen just as she was hanging up the dishcloth.
“There you are.” Mildred sounded triumphant, as if it were unusual to find Lucy cleaning up after supper.
Actually, Lucy did the majority of the housework, cooking and baking for her family. Born eight weeks prematurely, she had suffered respiratory problems since birth, which prevented her from helping with yard work, gardening and cleaning the stable, so she tried to make up for it by taking on more chores inside their home.
“You must kumme with us to Frederick’s haus for the singing. We’re also going to plan our Grischtdaag caroling rehearsal schedule,” Katura announced.
Lucy didn’t want to go with them. For one thing, Frederick had passed several notes to her at previous singings, a sure sign he was preparing to ask to be her suitor. Even though she’d tactfully but distinctly ignored his pursuit, his interest hadn’t waned. Frederick was a nice enough young man, but Lucy had no interest in being courted by him. She had no interest in being courted by any of the single men in Willow Creek, for that matter. By and large they seemed too rambunctious and unreliable for her to imagine ever becoming a wife to one of them.
Likewise, Lucy had long ago accepted that she wasn’t the kind of vibrant, vivacious woman most Willow Creek boys would want to court. With the exception of Frederick, who probably liked her because she was the only eligible woman who was shorter than he was—not to mention that his rather aggressive mother was especially fond of Lucy. Lucy had overheard enough comments to understand the bachelors in Willow Creek considered her personality to be dull. She realized her physical appearance didn’t appeal to the men her age, either. She had plain brown eyes and ordinary brown hair. Her only distinctive features were her glasses—which earned her the nickname “Bug Eyes” in school—and her petite size, which made it even easier for young men to overlook her.
“You go ahead without me,” Lucy suggested to her stepsisters. “I’ll stay and help Betty clean up.” Lucy had never known her own mother, who had died in childbirth, but in the five years since Betty had become her stepmother, Lucy still couldn’t bring herself to call Betty “Mamm,” and she was glad when Betty didn’t insist.
“But everything is cleaned and put away already. And you know Mamm won’t let us go unless you kumme, too.”
She was right. Even though Mildred was eighteen and Katura was the same age as Lucy, Betty was likely to prohibit her daughters from going out unless Lucy went with them. Sunday evening singings were intended to be a time of fellowship and fun for young people, but Lucy noticed the majority of Willow Creek’s singles only went to the singings so they’d have an excuse to get out of their houses. They’d make a brief showing at the host house, where they participated in a few songs, and then they’d pair up to take off for parties or wherever it was they went.
Half the time Lucy brought a book so she could slip away to a corner to read. She frequently returned home without either Mildred or Katura, who would sneak off before she realized they had ditched her. By that time, her father and Betty were usually asleep, and the next day Lucy never mentioned where her sisters had gone.
“But I was planning to work on an embroidery project,” Lucy objected.
“Work isn’t permitted on the Sabbath,” Katura scolded, as if Lucy weren’t always meticulous about following the rules of her district’s Ordnung.
With all the patience she could muster, Lucy explained, “This isn’t something I’m going to consign at Schrock’s Shop. It’s the tablecloth-and-napkin set for the charity auction at the Piney Hill Christmas festival.”
Since embroidering was quiet, sedentary work and the project wasn’t for her own financial profit, Lucy felt she could work on the project on the Sabbath in good conscience. Moreover, she needed to work on the project that evening.
Her deadline for completing it was December 21, when the linens would be displayed with other items in a silent auction to benefit the Englisch soup kitchen where she volunteered on Wednesday nights. Interested buyers would have two days to bid on the goods and Lucy and her family planned to attend the festival the evening of the twenty-third, when the highest bid was announced. Last year she’d been sick