An Amish Wedding Read online

  “Luke!” she snapped, breaking his reverie and yanking her hair from his hand. She ignored the sharp pain at her scalp. She was having difficulty breathing and thought that the dust couldn’t be good for either one of them. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Probably,” he murmured. “But I think my left ankle’s sprained, so it may present a problem.” His eyes drifted closed.

  “Hey!”

  “Don’t worry; I’m here. Just get me up, if you can. We’ll go to Dr. Knepp’s.”

  “Fine. But you’ve got to tell me what you’re doing with this shack—in the middle of nowhere.” Her fingers pressed down his leg to test the extent of the sprain, and she wondered desperately how she’d ever move his weight.

  He laughed, then groaned when she touched his ankle. “That’s another story. And don’t forget my wallet and pants when we go.”

  “Is that all you’re hiding?” she muttered, reaching to grasp at his shoulders.

  “Maybe.” He grinned lopsidedly. “But there might be a few more things I should confess to the bishop before we marry.”

  She stared at him in exasperation and wondered exactly what else her all-too-familiar and at the same time utterly alien betrothed would have to confess before she became his wife.

  Chapter Twelve

  SHE BREATHED A SIGH OF RELIEF WHEN HE TOLD HER that he’d hidden a horse and wagon in a copse of trees behind the shack. She led the horse round to the front of the dilapidated place, then half walked, half dragged Luke outside, trying to ignore the scent of sun and sweat that clung to his dusty skin.

  “Your shirt’s ruined,” she pointed out. “And where are your suspenders?”

  He grinned at her and gestured with his chin. “Over on that stump with my other stuff.”

  She went to gather his wallet and hat. Then she picked up his dark pants with the attached suspenders and turned to him with a frown. He was leaning against the horse for support, and for all of his seeming cheerfulness she couldn’t help but see the tense lines of pain around his handsome mouth.

  “Do you—do you want to put this on?” she questioned gruffly, extending the hat to him.

  Luke nodded. “Ya, if you’ll help a bit.” His eyes danced as he swayed.

  “Fine.” She laid the items in her hands on the wagon seat, then came closer to where he stood, perching his hat on his head.

  “Let’s leave the hat, Rose. Just take a back road to the Knepps’. I feel like I’m going to be sick. Sorry.”

  Rose made a clucking sound of comfort and stood waiting, watching a pallor wash over him and a bead of sweat trail down his cheek. She pulled his hat back off, and he drew a deep breath.

  “Do you want to sit down?” she asked anxiously.

  “Nee, I’m all right now. Glad I wasn’t sick in front of you.”

  “I saw you throw up from gorging yourself on watermelon when you were twelve, remember?”

  He smiled faintly. “No secrets with a best friend.”

  “No secrets,” she repeated soberly.

  He exhaled. “Let’s just go. I’ll lie in the back of the wagon.”

  Somehow she managed to get him there; to half recline, clutching the side of the wagon. She used his dark pants to wrap about his ankle, then set about easing the wagon down back roads to get to the physician’s home. And all the while her mind whirled with questions and emotions that she didn’t care to examine too closely, choosing instead to focus on Luke’s injuries and his need for care.

  “A BAD SPRAIN CAN BE AS PROBLEMATIC AS A BREAK.”

  Dr. Knepp was a popular Englisch physician who’d long been accepted by the local Amish community. And if he thought it strange that Rose brought her betrothed in half dressed in Englisch clothes, he didn’t remark on it. Instead, he hauled Luke onto an exam table and cut the pant leg of his jeans.

  “Got to get that boot off, son,” the doctor ordered.

  “Right.” Luke grimaced.

  Dr. Knepp glanced at Rose. “I think you might go have a cup of tea with my wife, my dear. I’ll wrap the ankle and get that chunk of wood out of his wrist.”

  She was about to protest when something stern in Luke’s face made her leave the room. Probably he didn’t want her to see him in pain. She wandered down the short hallway that separated the doctor’s office from his home, entering the bright and cheery Englisch kitchen. Mrs. Knepp looked up from a pile of ironing.

  “Rose. Come in and have something warm to drink. Was that Luke I saw you drive up with in the back of the wagon?” She set the iron aside.

  “Ya . . .” She floundered for a moment, not knowing how to explain his injuries and not wanting to lie. “He . . . uh . . . we . . .”

  Mrs. Knepp waved a casual hand. “Spare me the details, dear. That’s all confidential doctor’s information, right? Come have some hot cider and tell me how your wedding plans are coming along.”

  Rose sat down and accepted the delicate rose-painted china cup. She took a sip of the warm cider. Mrs. Knepp joined her, stirring her own cup with a stick of cinnamon.

  “I hear you’re to be bridesmaid . . . er . . . attendant for Priscilla King’s upcoming wedding. A pity her sister’s due that day, but a nice honor for you, hmm?”

  “Ach, ya. I’ve known Priscilla nearly as long as I’ve known Luke.” Rose stared into her cider, wondering exactly how long she had known Luke—at least, the Luke who touched her hair and enticed her with his eyes.

  A muffled groan from the doctor’s wing made Rose stand up. Mrs. Knepp waved her back down. “He’ll be fine, Rose. Just relax.”

  Rose sank back into her chair and toyed with the cup handle.

  “Luke will do his own fair share of waiting over the coming years, I’ll bet.”

  Rose looked at her hostess in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “Babies.” Mrs. Knepp smiled. “He’ll be waiting for you then, though if he’s half the man he seems, he’ll be right beside you, helping you along.”

  Rose flushed. The thought of having Luke’s children sent her heart racing. Yet, up until a few days ago, she thought she’d known everything there was to him, and not much of that had caused her heart to thrill. But here she was, anxious for his pain, worried about his stealing, and in love with a part of him that she didn’t even know. She took a strong swallow of cider, scalding the tip of her tongue and hastily depositing the cup back on the table.

  Mrs. Knepp smiled once more. “Engagements are always hard.”

  Rose had to agree. “What’s an Englisch engagement like?”

  Mrs. Knepp laughed. “Oh, not so much ceremony as your own people’s, I suppose, but there’s still the fun . . . and the uncertainty.”

  “Uncertainty?”

  The older woman gave her a sympathetic look. “Has no one told you, dear, that uncertainty is part of an engagement?”

  Rose shook her head.

  “Well, it is. How exactly are two young people supposed to look down a road where they can’t see so far as the nearest prayer in the church?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ve struggled some with it myself.”

  “So you’re normal. But I saw your face just now when you thought Luke was in pain . . . that’s love, Rose—the worrying, the hoping.”

  “And . . . the future?”

  “Belongs to God.” Mrs. Knepp smiled and patted her hand. “And with that, we all must be content.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I TAKE IT YOU’LL NOT BE EXPLAINING HOW THIS ALL came to be?” the doctor asked, a faint, telling glimmer in his eyes as he wrapped the swollen ankle with gentle hands.

  “Nee, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not a bit. Just a quick tetanus jab and we should be through here. Keep that ankle elevated a few hours a day, and make sure the bandages on the wrist stay clean and dry. Do you want some help changing your clothes back? I think your jeans are shot.”

  “Danki, Doc. What do I owe you?”

  Dr. Knepp chuckled. “The truth—whe
n you care to tell it. Only because I’m curious.”

  Luke offered his hand and had it shaken with goodwill. “Consider it a future payment then. I’ve got to get past Daed first.”

  “And your future bride?”

  “Don’t remind me.” Luke sighed as he eased off the examining table.

  HALF AN HOUR LATER LUKE’S HEAD WAS THROBBING nearly as much as his ankle with Rose’s ceaseless round of questions as she drove him home. And the rattling of the wooden crutches in the back of the wagon didn’t help matters. Sitting on the bench seat beside her, his leg extended, Luke had the sudden and pressing desire to simply kiss her quiet, but decided it probably wouldn’t be quite as fair as an explanation. Still . . . he glanced at her berry red lips as she framed her next query.

  He moved quickly, dipping his head and slanting his chin so that he met her mouth half open. He kissed her hard, then pulled back a fraction to smile with satisfaction at the surprised O her pretty mouth had formed.

  She stared at him suspiciously. “Did Dr. Knepp give you something weird for pain?”

  “Nee,” he whispered. “Am I being . . . weird?”

  “Maybe. For the Luke I thought I knew . . . yes. For the other . . .” She slapped the reins across the horse’s rump and tilted her head aside. “I don’t know if I can say.”

  He laughed and withdrew. “Oh, I think you can say, Rose.”

  She flushed visibly at his intimate tone, and he tore his gaze away to glance at the passing landscape.

  “What will you tell your family about how you got hurt?” she asked. “I certainly don’t know what to say.”

  He tilted his hat forward and leaned back, closing his eyes. “Don’t worry so much. I’ll take care of everything.”

  WHEN SHE BROUGHT THE WAGON TO A STANDSTILL AT the Lantz home, Rose found that Luke’s idea of taking care of things had little to do with explanation and more to do with exhausted dozing. And she couldn’t very well give him the elbow jab he so deserved when she was confronted by Mr. Lantz’s look of consternation.

  “Ach, Rose. What is this?” Mr. Lantz whispered anxiously, peering up into the wagon seat where Luke drowsed.

  “Uh, Luke and I . . .” Her voice rose several octaves. “We were, um . . .” She broke off abruptly when Luke half turned to nuzzle against her shoulder.

  “Luke!” She rapped his name out frantically, and he woke with a start, blinking his blue eyes warmly at her. “Luke. Your daed—we’re home.” She pleaded with him with her eyes while he got track of his bearings.

  “Ach, Daed.”

  “Is it broken?” Mr. Lantz asked anxiously, reaching up to touch his son’s leg above the bandage.

  “Just a bad sprain,” Luke assured him.

  “You are both all right then? Rose?”

  Rose could only nod, having no desire to lie to her future father-in-law. Not that she could tell him the truth anyway. She didn’t know it.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, apropos of nothing, and was surprised to feel her lip tremble.

  Mr. Lantz misinterpreted her look. “Ach, Rosie . . . never mind. He’ll be right as rain for the wedding. I’m sure of it.”

  The wedding! Rose felt her heart skip a beat as she saw Luke shoot her a warm sidelong glance. Somehow she was supposed to marry a man who had become more than she could ever desire. It was enough to both exhilarate and make her feel like throwing up at the same time.

  “Danki,” she whispered.

  Mr. Lantz came round the wagon and reached up to pat her hands on the reins. “Mark, Joshua!” The old man’s voice carried into the workshop, and Luke’s brothers appeared in the doorway. “Come—your brother’s sprained his ankle. Let’s move him inside the house, and then one of you can see Rose home.”

  “Uh, I’ll walk,” Rose interjected, slipping down from the wagon seat. “Really. Please—just take care of Luke.” She was two steps away from the wagon when Luke’s voice stopped her.

  “Rose? Come and visit later?” His tone was pleading.

  His daed nodded his approval, and she could hardly decline. But first she needed some time alone to think through this strange turn of events.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “DAED—I’M FINE. REALLY.”

  Luke noticed that his father’s work-worn hands shook a bit as they smoothed the mounded quilt under the injured ankle, and his heart squeezed in his chest. He’d never given much thought to the fact that his father was getting older. Somehow he’d believed that Daed would always be healthy and strong.

  “Ya, surely you are,” his father murmured, straightening.

  Luke swallowed. “Daed . . . I know none of us has been sick or hurt since Mamm, but this is nothing to worry over.”

  “Ya, so they said about your mother.” The older man dropped into a nearby rocker and covered his face with his hand for a moment. “Perhaps I grow old in my concern.”

  Remorse swelled in Luke’s throat when he thought of how his selfish behavior could bring more pain to his father. It had never been his desire to assume the role he had—that of a common thief—and what’s more, he knew that he’d enjoyed it. But no weight of purpose could outbalance what he’d done. He sighed softly and flexed his wrist in its white bandages.

  “Daed, we’re all a bunch of fool men in this house, who’ve done little to really talk about Mamm not being here. Rose—well, she likes to talk. I’ve come to learn through her that talking helps things. It’s when we don’t say—what we should, maybe—that things are worse.”

  He waited, and after a moment his father drew a hoarse breath.

  “Well, I miss your mamm, to be sure. I thought that if I—spoke too much of it, that it would hurt you boys . . . add to your grieving. I guess I’ve kept the secret of my hurt inside for too long, and you’re right—it’s not gut.” He took out a white hankie and blew his nose prodigiously. “Ya, especially with a new bride coming to bring life to these walls again. Your Rosie’s got your mamm’s spirit, her gentleness and love of life. You’re a lucky man, sohn—she’s perfect for you.”

  Luke licked at a tear that slipped past his mouth and nodded. “Ya, Daed. Perfect.”

  THE MORE SHE WALKED, THE MORE CONFUSED ROSE GOT. Luke had her coming and going, and she had him in nearly the same position—except for the fact that he seemed so . . . steamy in his behavior, despite his injuries. Yet she still could explain little to nothing about why he’d done what he had the last months. And he’d kept on as though nothing had happened—except for the day he’d suggested she’d like more freedom . . .

  She stopped so abruptly on the dirt road that she nearly stumbled. He’d offered her freedom, and had she taken it, he’d been willing to let her go, without any guilt or condemnation. Remorse flooded her consciousness, and she felt tears sting the backs of her eyes. What she’d taken for granted—his love—was real. It was giving and patient and all of those other things she knew from church but couldn’t recall from her flustered mind.

  Aenti Tabby’s words teased at her consciousness with sudden importance. What if there were more to Luke? More. More. More.

  She sighed and resumed walking, swiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands. Luke still had a lot of explaining to do . . . but then, maybe she did too.

  She arrived home slightly breathless with emotion to find that the family had returned from the fair. Aenti Tabby was in the backyard making unrefined sugar from the bumper crop of sugar beets they’d had that year.

  “Ach, some stronger hands than mine for the press,” the older woman said with a welcoming smile.

  Rose ducked her head so that her aunt wouldn’t see the emotion in her face and plunged her hands into a nearby bucket of soapy water. She dried her hands on a clean towel and then took over at the apple press, which currently ran with the bright red and purple of sugar beets. Later the juice would be boiled until nearly all the liquid had evaporated, leaving rough granules of sugar for cooking. The hard part was pressing the liquid from the beets.

 
; Aenti Tabby moved to continue cutting off the rough green tops. “So, have you seen your friend Priscilla lately? I’ve heard the Kings are having quite a time getting ready for her wedding.”

  Rose realized she had been too involved in her own issues to be of much comfort to her friend. She’d have to pay her another visit soon. To think that Priscilla and Chester’s wedding was only three weeks away. The thought made her heart speed up at the seamless passage of time, and thoughts of her own December wedding to Luke flooded her mind again.

  “How is your dress coming?”

  “Gut. I’ve got it pieced, and I sew on it a bit whenever I can.”

  Rose was waiting for it—more pressing questions about Luke from her aenti—and decided to forestall the process by talking a blue streak. But as she opened her mouth to speak, her aenti gave a shocked cry.

  “What?” Rose asked in alarm.

  “Your hands, child! You didn’t put on gloves.”

  Rose stared down at her hands and wrists, now stained as purple as the beet juice that gushed through the press.

  “Ach! I wasn’t thinking . . .”

  “Or perhaps you were thinking too much,” Aenti Tabby suggested.

  Rose laughed aloud ruefully. “I suppose I can try kerosene to get it off.”

  “Or maybe your Luke would prefer a purple hand to hold until he’s feeling better.”

  Rose opened her mouth in shock. “What?” How did her aenti know about Luke’s injuries?

  Aenti Tabby laughed at her expression. “Dr. Knepp stopped by before you got here to make sure that you were feeling well. Will you tell me what happened?”

  Rose stared down at her purple fingers, perplexed, and thought hard about strangling Luke as she struggled for an answer.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “GO ON UP, ROSE.” MR. LANTZ SMILED WITH WHAT SEEMED like extra exuberance. “He’s just resting that ankle a bit.”