An Amish Proposal. Jo Brown Ann

County, Pennsylvania

      When the night sky opened and it started raining, Katie Kay Lapp stopped by the side of the road, covered her face with her hands and began to cry. The cold downpour was the final insult in a day that had begun badly and gotten worse with each passing hour. How had she gotten to this point? Months ago, she’d been the center of attention of young men at any gathering. They’d vied for time with her and for the chance to take her home in their courting buggies. Now she was abandoned and afraid and had no place to go.

      You could go home.

      Ach, it was easy for the little voice in her head—the one nagging her endlessly about doing the right thing—to say that. But she’d burned her bridges behind her and in front of her and around her. She couldn’t go home. Her sisters would welcome her, but Daed would insist on knowing every detail of what she’d done since she ran away. He’d want to pray with her and ask her to repent for any sins she’d committed.

      And she’d committed a bunch. Some intentionally and others by accident. In the eyes of Bishop Reuben Lapp, what she’d done would need to be repented for with prayer before it could be forgiven.

      She moaned aloud when she imagined telling her daed about her fear that she was pregnant. Many plain women her age were married with one or more bopplin, but she hadn’t been ready to settle down and lead an Amish life, the only life she’d ever known until she left home four months ago to find out what the rest of the world was like. It hadn’t been a carefree rumspringa decision. Instead, she’d made the choice with care and a lot of deep consideration.

      Or so she’d thought at the time.

      Raindrops slid beneath her T-shirt and down her spine like a cascade of ice cubes. October could be a beautiful month in southeastern Pennsylvania or unforgiving like tonight.

      Straightening, Katie Kay looked around. She wasn’t sure where she was. Somewhere in rural Lancaster County, she knew, but not exactly where. She hadn’t paid any attention. She’d been surprised when Austin, whom she’d described to others as her Englisch boyfriend because she’d foolishly believed he cared about her, had driven her and a couple of other Englischers out of Lancaster City, but she hadn’t watched where they were going. Rain had been falling, and the streetlights had glittered on the windshield, disguising any landmarks in splattered light. She hadn’t expected she’d need to know. She’d thought she was returning to the apartment she shared with Austin and their friends.

      Not her friends, she knew. Neither had protested when Austin snatched her cell phone from her purse and ordered her out of the car. Maybe Vinnie and Juan, his Englisch friends, had been as astounded as she’d been, never guessing he’d drive off and not come back for her.

      She kept walking. She didn’t have any other choice. The country road was two narrow lanes that curved and rose and fell over the rolling hillsides. It was edged on both sides by harvested fields. She peered through the darkness, but the lights she could see appeared to be a mile or two in the distance. Was she somewhere without many houses? Or were there ones between her and the distant lights? Amish houses wouldn’t be lit this late in the evening because the people living in them usually rose before the sun and were in bed soon after sunset.

      Two cars raced toward her. If the drivers saw her, they gave no sign, not swerving to the middle of the road to make sure they avoided her as they passed. The tires of the second sent a shower of dirty water over her.

      “It’s not fair!” she cried out. Nothing had been fair since her mamm died five years ago. Everyone had expected her to step into the role of housekeeper for her daed. After all, her half sister had when Daed’s first wife died. But Priscilla was the perfect Amish daughter and now was the perfect Amish wife and mamm. Katie Kay had been the one who questioned everything and was too curious to accept things just because someone told her so.

      But look where curiosity had gotten her. A part of her wanted to pray, but she silenced that longing as she had for four months. Reaching out to God seemed like admitting she couldn’t survive on her own among Englischers.

      And why would God want to hear from her after she’d turned her back on Him and the life He’d given her? Another bridge she’d burned and wondered if it could ever be rebuilt.

      A familiar sound came from behind her. Metal wheels on asphalt accompanied by iron horseshoes clip-clopping in a steady rhythm.

      Katie Kay knew the source of those sounds. They’d been a part of her life since her earliest memories. Stepping off the edge of the road, she considered going down the slope toward a shadowed hedgerow until after the buggy had passed. An Amish person wouldn’t go by her without stopping as the cars had, but she needed to avoid plain people until she figured out where she was.

      Her feet refused to move. Her own body rebelled against standing a moment longer than necessary in the cold rain. Maybe she should try to hitch a ride with the buggy, so she could find shelter before the rain turned to sleet. Who would recognize her as the wayward daughter of Reuben Lapp, a beloved bishop?

      The clatter of the wheels began to slow, and she knew she’d been seen in the lights connected to the buggy. Again, she was torn between running away and running toward it. How could she have gotten herself to this point? A few months ago, she’d been the pampered daughter of a respected Amish bishop. Now she was cowering by the side of a country road, left behind like a discarded kitten dropped by a heartless owner.

      Which wasn’t far off from the truth. Austin hadn’t tossed her out of the car, but he’d raised his hand when she hesitated to follow his orders. Though he’d never struck her, she’d seen him flatten a man a head taller than him with a single blow. Again she told herself she shouldn’t have been honest with him about her suspicion she might be pregnant until she was absolutely sure. Austin Moore prided himself on being a man without a single obligation to anyone or anything, and she should have known he’d refuse to take responsibility if she’d conceived. She wasn’t sure, though signs pointed in that direction. By now, he’d be at the apartment in Lancaster they’d shared with two other Englischers, and he’d be watching sports and drinking whatever was in the fridge. He wouldn’t spare her another thought. It wasn’t as if he loved her.

      And that realization was the most painful of all.

      A voice called from the buggy that had pulled alongside her while the rain fell relentlessly on her bare head. “Katie Kay? Katie Kay Lapp, is it you?” Surprise lifted the deep voice several notches, but she recognized it.

      Micah Stoltzfus!

      Out of everyone in Lancaster County, why did he have to be in the buggy?

      Micah had taken her home—several times—from social events, and she’d even let him kiss her. She’d decided she liked him well enough, and she’d enjoyed his kisses, but she wasn’t interested in someone who kept talking about the future. She’d been happy focusing on the present, when there were a lot of gut-looking guys eager to take her home.

      Why not enjoy what was going on and let tomorrow worry about itself?

      That had been her motto, but now she was being forced to see where such a shortsighted plan had left her.

      Alone.

      Possibly pregnant.

      And about to have to beg help from a man she’d told to get lost a year ago.

      * * *

      The petite woman standing beside his buggy bore little resemblance to the vivacious beauty he’d admired for years, but Micah Stoltzfus knew he wasn’t mistaken. Though she didn’t answer him and confirm her identity, he recognized Katie Kay Lapp’s oval face and very large blue eyes. Her blond hair was no longer pulled back beneath a white organdy kapp. It’d been cropped short with bangs above her tawny brows and hung around her shoulders, weighed down by the rain. He guessed the strands which had been silken when they escaped her bun and brushed his face would, when dry, bounce with each step she took. Instead of a simple dress, she wore blue jeans and a black T-shirt that looked as if it’d been ruined before she’d stood outside in the storm.

      He