His Amish Choice. Leigh Bale

Jakob turned and joined the other men as they lined up to go inside the spacious barn for their meetings. Eli followed, standing behind Martin Hostetler, who was three years older than him. With auburn hair, a smattering of freckles across his nose and blue eyes that gleamed with merriment, Martin was hardworking and filled with energy. Eli was surprised the man was still single.

      Martin nodded and asked him several questions, but was cut off when they went inside, much to Eli’s relief. His thoughts were filled with turmoil. As they trailed into the barn and took their place opposite the women, he considered Jakob’s words. Yes, it had taken courage to return, and yet it hadn’t been so difficult. Not when he’d been yearning for home—and everything in Denver had reminded him of Shannon, filling him with grief and guilt. But now that he was here, he feared he’d made a mistake. People in his Gmay would expect him to marry. And he couldn’t do that right now. Maybe never. Perhaps he didn’t belong in this world anymore.

      He glanced at Bishop Yoder’s pretty daughters sitting with Lizzie. The young women smiled shyly, then ducked their heads close together in a whispered conversation. Though he’d known most of them before he left, they all looked alike to Eli. Modest, chaste and pretty. With her creamy complexion and stunning eyes, Lizzie stood out among them, like a beacon of light in a sea of fog. Eli knew the Hostetlers and Geingeriches each had a daughter of marriageable age too, but he wasn’t interested. Not in any of them.

      He glanced at Lizzie, who stared straight ahead at the bishop. As the vorsinger called out the first note of the opening song, she opened her mouth and sang in German from the Ausbund, their church hymnal. How ironic that she was the only woman in the room who didn’t seem to be looking at him.

      Someone cleared their throat nearby and he glanced over to find his father’s disapproving frown aimed at him. It didn’t matter that Eli was a grown man. He was unmarried and still living in his father’s household. Trying to refocus his thoughts, Eli joined in with the slow harmony, the words returning to his memory like a dear old friend.

      Almost immediately, the bishop and deacon stood, then disappeared into the tack room to hold the Abrot, a leadership council meeting to discuss church business. While they were gone, the congregation kept singing, with no musical accompaniment. Eli stared at the closed door, trying to clear his mind and relax. Forcing himself not to look at Lizzie again. Attempting to push her from his mind. But it did no good. Again and again, he glanced her way, his thoughts returning to her wounded gaze. She’d made her position perfectly clear when the bishop had asked him to work on her farm. They needn’t discuss the matter further. And yet, Eli couldn’t fight the feeling that they still had unfinished business between them.

       Chapter Three

      The congregation knelt in silent prayer until Bishop Yoder released a discreet sigh. As a body, they each rose to their feet, turned and sat on the hard, backless benches. Once they were all seated, Lizzie watched as Bishop Yoder stood at the front of the room. With such a small Gmay, they had only one minister...Lizzie’s father. And with him still in the hospital, the bishop would probably preach to them.

      “What is in your heart today?” he asked the worshippers.

      The question took Lizzie off guard. Tilting her head, she listened intently as the bishop spoke, his voice soft but powerful, like the sound of rolling thunder off in the distance. He met the eyes of each person in the room as though he were speaking to every single one of them. When he met Lizzie’s eyes, she looked down, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

      “Do you carry peace and charity within you, or do you harbor anger and malice toward someone?” the bishop asked, pausing to give them each time to search their hearts.

      Lizzie squirmed on her seat. She glanced at Eli, but found him gazing straight forward, his expression one of thoughtful introspection.

      Bishop Yoder lifted a book of scriptures. “But whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.”

      Lizzie had heard this passage numerous times and thought she understood it clearly...until now. She had no desire to be hurt again and again, especially where her heart was concerned. But wasn’t that what the Lord expected? For her to humble herself and cast aside her harsh feelings.

      “Over the next weeks, I hope each of you will resolve any hard feelings you might carry toward others,” the bishop continued. “Examine your own thoughts and actions and bring them into line with how the Lord would have you live. I beseech each of you to hand Him your anger and pain, your shortcomings and flaws. Then, once we all are in accord with each other, we will hold our Council Services in preparation for Communion.”

      Communion! A sacred time when the entire congregation must be in complete harmony with one another. With all that had happened recently, Lizzie had forgotten it was nearly that time of year.

      As the bishop continued speaking about the rules of their Ordnung and the responsibility of each member of their community, she clenched her eyes tightly closed and gripped her hands together in her lap. Surely the bishop wasn’t speaking directly to her. He couldn’t know the resentment she still harbored toward Eli. Could he? Yet whether he could or not, she was the minister’s daughter, after all, and she knew she should set a good example of love, tolerance and forgiveness. But how could she forgive Eli after what he’d done? He had soured her toward all men. She would probably never marry now. Never have a familye of her own. Never live in her own house. Over time, several men had asked her out. Martin Hostetler had pursued her doggedly, but seemed to have finally given up after the first year. Now it appeared she would become an old maid. Pitied by the other members of her community.

      She took a slow breath, trying to settle her nerves. Her thoughts were selfish, she knew that. She was so worried about herself and what others might think about her that she hadn’t stopped to consider Eli and his well-being. Why had he returned? What had happened to him after all this time? After he’d left, she’d been worried for him, fearing that he was lost forever. But here he was, seeking a second chance. And who was she to refuse him?

      She had to find a way to let go of her anger. To forgive him. But how? All her life, she’d been taught the principles of repentance and forgiveness. So, why was it so difficult to exercise those virtues now?

      Puzzling over her dilemma, Lizzie was surprised at how quickly time passed before they broke for the noon meal.

      “Komm on. You can help me serve my potato soup.” Abby spoke cheerfully as she took Lizzie’s arm and pulled her toward the barn door.

      “Potato soup?” Lizzie said, her mind still focused on the sermon.

      Abby laughed. “I know it’s a bit fancier than our normal fare of bread and peanut butter, but I’m feeling extra domestic lately. All I want to do is cook and clean. Jakob says I’m nesting. He says it’s normal for a woman in my condition to act this way.”

      Laughing at Abby’s enthusiasm, Lizzie let herself be pulled along. She could just imagine how fun it must be to anticipate her first child. But that thought brought her another bout of confusion, sadness and guilt.

      Inside the kitchen, a dozen women crowded around, helping prepare the food. Their identical dresses were simple but pretty in assorted colors of blue, burgundy, purple and green. Each woman wore a pair of black, sensible hard-soled shoes, and a starched organdy kapp. Lizzie thought there was something lovely and serene about their simplistic dress.

      Naomi Fisher stood slicing loaves of homemade bread in front of the counter while Sarah Yoder laid dill and sweet pickles on a plate. Abby stirred an enormous silver pot on the stove as Lizzie reached for a large serving bowl.

      “I’ll ladle the soup into the bowl and you can serve it hot to the men.” Abby picked up a long ladle and dipped it into the frothy, white soup.

      Lizzie nodded, sliding on a pair of oven mitts to protect her hands from the heat. Lifting the bowl, she held it steady while Abby ladled it full. The warm, tantalizing