Their Convenient Amish Marriage. Cheryl Williford

you? I guess you’re married by now and have your own haus and kinner.” His warm blue-eyed gaze pinned her down like a bug to cardboard.

      She went cold inside. She spoke matter-of-factly but was anything but inwardly calm. “Ya, I was married to Mark Schrock, but I’m a widow now, with a young dochder named Faith. She’s with my younger schweschders while I’m busy with the ladies.” Her gaze dropped to the child sleeping in his arms.

      “I’m sorry about the loss of your husband.” His words sounded sincere enough, but in the past, his words had seemed sincere, too. Especially after his mother’s funeral, when she was seventeen and he had tried explaining why he was leaving Pinecraft, setting her back on the shelf as if they’d meant nothing to each other. That day he’d rambled on without making a lick of sense, especially when he’d suggested his mother had been overworked by the church and his father until the day she dropped dead from exhaustion. Hadn’t he realized women like his mother thrived on being needed and never complained?

      The kind in his arms stirred and stretched, drawing his attention. Flushed with sleep, the little girl made grunting sounds and then settled down. His blue-eyed gaze roamed the child’s face as he tucked a pink blanket in around her chubby legs. A long, slim finger ran lovingly down the side of her rosy cheek.

      She caught a glimpse of the baby’s pursed pink lips. A trickle of milk seeped from the side of her sweet mouth. At least Leviticus had become responsible enough to keep the child well fed. “I see time’s brought changes to all our lives. Is your fraa with you?”

      He looked her over, his expression calm. “Nee. I never married.”

      He seemed comfortable enough with his statement. Like having a child out of wedlock was an everyday occurrence for Englisch men like the one he’d become. “She’s a cute boppli. What’s her name?”

      “Naomi, after my mudder.” He grinned, his beguiling dimple flashing again, tempting her to reach out and touch it as she had a hundred times in the distant past.

      He laughed. “I tend to call her Trouble when it’s three in the morning and she’s screaming blue murder with a wet diaper.” He remained warm and friendly, even though Verity knew she had to be frowning his way. His playful personality had always been so irritating, yet so appealing to her.

      “Babies are known for waking at the worst times.” Drawn in by his smile, she relaxed a tiny bit. She thought of Faith’s first year and all the sleep she’d lost rocking her in the chair Mark had fashioned for her before the accident took his life. Sadness replaced her half smile with a frown. “Komm, you must be eager to see your daed after all these years.”

      “You don’t have to come along with me. It hasn’t been that long. I know where the garden is.” His tone was gentle, but firm. He stepped past her and out the door without a backward glance.

      “It’s been longer than you think, Leviticus Hilty,” she whispered, dealing with what felt like a dismissal. She watched his long stride eat up the distance between the porch and the wood gate surrounding the rose beds. To his retreating back, she muttered softly, “Much longer.”

      Clara was suddenly by her side, crowding her out of the doorway with her big belly. Her friend’s brow arched as she asked, “Who’s that?”

      Leviticus strolled alongside the sheds beside the house, over to where his mother’s rose garden bloomed in perfumed profusion. “That’s your bruder-in-law, Leviticus Hilty.”

      “How can that be?” Clara’s honey-colored eyes widened in surprise. Always nosy, she flicked her kapp’s ribbon behind her shoulder and inched closer to the screen door for a better look. “He’s not anything like the Leviticus I remember. That man’s an Englischer.”

      “Ya, he is, but he’s Leviticus Hilty all the same.” Verity strived to steady herself. Her nerves were jingling like the Christmas bells on Faith’s shoes. Leviticus had returned. So what if he’s returned? He no longer means anything to me.

      Verity watched as Leviticus turned toward the backfield of blown-over citrus trees and moved on. His shoulders rounded, no doubt in reaction to the damage stretched out before him.

      The grove had been slammed by high winds during the recent late-season hurricane. Squalls of heavy rain had flooded field after field until they were all underwater. The house had been spared, for the most part, but the damage to the grove would be considerable, if not devastating, financially. Verity loved the fields of miniature orange trees, this old house, its family. How will the grove survive?

      “Solomon’s not going to like Leviticus’s returning home an Englischer. Even now, when an extra hand is needed and appreciated.” Clara patted her stomach, as if rubbing it would rid her of the concerns that might upset her boppli. “And Albert. Do you think he’ll easily forgive his soh for leaving the faith and never joining the church?”

      “He certain-sure missed him.” Verity forced her fisted hands to relax at her sides. “As far as I’m concerned, Leviticus coming home is exactly what Albert didn’t need. And bringing a kind with him, even though she’ll be a blessing, will bring more problems. We’ve got thirty nosy women in the house, all of whom love to spread rumors. We’ve got to get rid of them as fast as we can. I can hear them now. Albert’s soh is home and has brought shame to the community yet again.” Verity smiled reassuringly at Clara. “You find a way to get rid of the ladies while I deal with this situation.”

      Verity opened the screen door and scooted past. Consternation put a frown on her face. Why had Leviticus chosen now to come home?

      * * *

      Leviticus hurried along, his thoughts scrambled by the funny games God seemed to allow people to play with their lives. His mother’s sudden death, his leaving home, his time at the Amish rescue home, his enlistment into the army. Serving a six-month tour in Afghanistan and nearly dying just days before he was to leave had left him dealing with PTSD.

      He would have never guessed Verity, one of the people he’d hurt the most, would be taking care of his aging father. She was no longer a girl, and he had to admit she looked good. Better than good.

      She’ll never take you back, no matter how forgiving an Amish woman she is. You don’t deserve someone like her. Not after what you did.

      He was still captivated by the spirited Plain woman with coppery red hair and green eyes that sparkled like jewels, but his leftover feelings would have to be crushed.

      She would have been my fraa if I hadn’t left.

      Naomi fussed. His hand trembled as he shaded his daughter’s face from the morning sun. A reminder that his PTSD was kicking up. He had to keep using the stress management techniques he learned in the hospital and take his pills regularly. Naomi was so young and vulnerable. Her whole life lay before her. She had only him. Would he be enough? Was he up to raising a daughter by himself?

      Deep in thought, he ambled toward the rose garden. Memories of his happy childhood flooded in, tugging at his heartstrings. He visualized his mamm clipping off dead rose blooms with care. She’d loved all living things, even him, and he’d seldom earned a day of her devotion.

      Perhaps she’d still be alive if he hadn’t brought shame to their door with his wild ways. He should have joined the church young and been baptized as she’d asked him. But no. He’d had to live the life that suited him best.

      Regret swamped his mind. His father had always held his mother accountable for his inappropriate behavior. Late at night, he’d often heard his parents argue. His older brother, Solomon, never caused tension. Leviticus shrugged in regret and continued to his father’s favorite resting place.

      It broke him to know his mother would never know he’d grown closer to the Lord, straightened out his ways and returned to Pinecraft, where he belonged. With a dochder to bring up,