“Are you all right?” the stranger demanded.

Unable to find her voice, Ruth nodded.

He lifted her into his arms, and gazed into her face.

Ruth couldn’t catch her breath. All she could do was stare into the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen.

“You scared me half to death,” he murmured, still holding her.

“Is she hurt?”

The sound of her mother’s voice brought her back to the reality of the situation. “Put me down,” she ordered, embarrassed now. “I’m fine.”

Flustered, Ruth stuffed her loose red hair up in her Kapp.

“You sure you’re all right?” The beautiful stranger looked boldly into her face.

The man staring at her was entirely too handsome. He was tall and broad shouldered, with a dimple on his chin. He was clean-shaven, so he wasn’t married.

“Eli Lapp.” He offered his hand to her the way the English did, but she didn’t take it.

Another flush of embarrassment crept across her face.

“And you must be Ruth, Hannah’s daughter,” he said, grinning.

How did he know Mam? How did he know her?

EMMA MILLER

lives quietly in her old farmhouse in rural Delaware amid the fertile fields and lush woodlands. Fortunate enough to be born into a family of strong faith, she grew up on a dairy farm, surrounded by loving parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. Emma was educated in local schools, and once taught in an Amish schoolhouse much like the one at Seven Poplars. When not caring for her large family, reading and writing are her favorite pastimes. Courting Ruth, the first in her Hannah’s Daughters series, is her first romance for Love Inspired.

Courting Ruth
Emma Miller

www.millsandboon.co.uk

May you be blessed by the Lord, my daughter; this last instance of your loyalty is better than the first.

—Ruth 3:10

For my great-grandmother Emma, a woman of deep faith, enduring love, and legendary might.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Spring…Kent County, Delaware

Ruth Yoder lifted her skirt and deftly climbed the wooden stile at the back corner of the fence that marked the property line between her family’s farm and their nearest neighbor. The sun-warmed boards felt good on the soles of Ruth’s bare feet, bringing back sweet memories and making her smile. Dat’s stile, God rest his soul. How she missed him. The world had always seemed safe when her father was alive. Without him at the head of the table, life was more uncertain.

What was certain was that if they didn’t hurry, recess would be over, and Mam wouldn’t get her lunch. “Come along, Susanna,” she called over her shoulder to her sister.

“Come along,” Susanna repeated as she scampered up the stile, clutching their mother’s black lunch pail tightly in one chubby hand. Susanna would be eighteen in a few months. She should have been able to carry the lunch across the field to the schoolhouse unaccompanied, but in many ways, she would always be a child.

The English said Susanna had Down syndrome or called her a special-needs person, but Dat had always said that she was one of the Lord’s gifts and that they should feel blessed every day that He had entrusted her to their family. Susanna’s chubby face and slanting blue eyes might seem odd to strangers, but to Ruth, her dear little face, framed by the halo of frizzy red hair that marked her as one of Jonas Yoder’s seven daughters, was beautiful. Susanna’s white Kapp tied over her unruly bun, her Plain blue dress and white apron were exactly like those that Mam had sewn for Ruth. But Susanna’s rosy cheeks, stubby little feet and hands and bubbly personality made her unlike anyone that Ruth had ever known.

Sometimes, to her shame, Ruth secretly felt the tiniest bit of envy for her sister’s uncomplicated world. Ruth had to struggle every day to be the kind of person her mother and her church expected. Being a good soul just seemed to come naturally to Susanna. Ever since her sister Johanna had married and moved to her husband’s farm down the lane, the responsibility of being the oldest child had settled heavily on Ruth’s shoulders. It was that sense of responsibility that had caused her and Mam to have words after breakfast this morning. Not an argument exactly, but a disagreement, and that conversation with her mother made her stomach as heavy as one of Aunt Martha’s pecan-raisin pies.

“You’re twenty-three out, Ruth,” Mam had reminded her as she’d taken her black bonnet from the hook and tied it over her Kapp before starting off for school. “You joined the church when you were nineteen. You’ve done a woman’s job in our house since you were fifteen. It’s past time you chose a husband and had your own home.”

“But you need me here,” she had insisted. “Without Dat, running the farm, taking care of Susanna and teaching school is too much for you. It’s better that I remain single and stay with you.”

“Fiddle-faddle,” Mam had said as she’d gathered her books.

“…Roofie! You’re not listening to me.”

“Ya, I am.” Ruth shook off her reverie and steadied her sister as she descended the steps on the far side of the fence.

“But you’re not. Look!” Susanna pointed. Above the trees, in the direction of the school, rose a column of smoke.

“Samuel’s probably burning brush.”

“But, Roofie.” Susanna trotted to keep up with Ruth’s longer strides as they followed the narrow path through the oak grove. “I smell smoke.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Ruth answered absently. Tonight she would apologize to her mother and—

“Fire!” Susanna squealed as they entered the clearing surrounding the one-room schoolhouse. “The school is on fire!”

Ruth’s mouth gaped in astonishment. Ahead, clouds of smoke billowed from the front porch and cloakroom of the neat, white schoolhouse. In the field, behind an open shed, Ruth spotted the children engaged in a game of softball. Upwind of the building, no one had smelled the smoke yet.

“Sit down, Susanna,” Ruth ordered. “Sit here and guard Mam’s lunch.”

“But the school—” her sister protested, hopping on one bare foot and then the other.

“Don’t move until Mam or I come for you.”

Susanna sighed heavily but dropped to the ground.

Thank You, Lord, Ruth thought. If there was one thing she could depend on, it was that Susanna would always do as she was asked, so at least she wouldn’t have to worry about her safety. Closer to the school than the field, Ruth ran toward the burning structure, bare feet pounding the grass, the skirt of her dress tugging at her knees.

As she drew closer, she saw Mam’s new student, Irwin Beachy, crawl out from under the porch. His face and shirt were smudged black, and he was holding his hands out awkwardly, as though they’d been burned.

“Irwin? What happened? Are you hurt?” she called to him.

The boy’s eyes widened in terror. Without answering, he dashed away toward the woods.

“Irwin!” Ruth shouted. “Come back!”

When the boy vanished in the trees, she turned back to the school. An ugly crackling noise rose and flames rippled between the floorboards of the front porch. Through the open door, she could see tongues of red flame shimmering through the black smoke. The cloakroom seemed engulfed in fire, but the thick inner door that led to the single classroom was securely closed.

Wrapping her apron around her hands to protect them, Ruth grabbed the smoking rope that dangled from the cast-iron bell by the steps. She yanked hard, and the old bell pealed out the alarm. Then she released the rope and darted to the hand water pump that stood in the yard.

By the shouts and cries coming from the ball field, Ruth knew that the children had heard the bell and seen the smoke. By school age, every Amish child knew what to do in case of a fire, and she was certain they would arrive in seconds. She pumped hard on the handle of the water pump, filling the bucket that always sat there, and then ran back to dash the water onto the front wall of the school. Two of the older boys pounded up behind her. Toby Troyer pulled off his shirt and beat at the flames with it. Vernon Beachy grabbed the empty bucket from Ruth’s hands and raced back to refill it.

Ruth’s mother directed the fire-fighting efforts and instructed the older girls to take the smaller children back to where Susanna waited so that they would be out of danger.

Two of the Beachy boys carried the rain barrel to the other side of the schoolhouse and splashed water against the wall. Other boys used their lunch buckets to carry water. One moment they seemed as if they were winning the battle, but the next moment, flames would shoot up in a new spot. Someone passed her a bucket of water, and Ruth rushed in to throw it on the porch roof. As long as the roof didn’t catch fire, the building might be saved. Abruptly, a sensation of heat washed up over her. She glanced down to see that sparks had ignited the hem of her apron.

As she reached down frantically to tear off the smoldering apron, strong hands closed around her waist and lifted her off the ground. Before she could utter a protest, Ruth found herself thrown onto the ground and roughly rolled over and over in the grass. Her bonnet came off, her hairpins came loose, and her hair tumbled down her back.

“Are you trying to kill yourself? Didn’t you see your apron on fire?” A stranger with the face of an angel lifted her into his arms, and gazed into her face.

Ruth couldn’t catch her breath. All she could do, for a second, was stare into the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen. Behind her she heard the shouts of male voices, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from the eyes.

“Are you all right?”

She swallowed hard, unable to find her voice, and nodded as she began to cough.

“You scared me half to death,” he murmured, still holding her against him, his body as hot against hers as the flames of the fire behind them.

“Is she hurt?” Mam laid a hand on Ruth’s arm as her rescuer backed away from the smoking building.

The sound of her mother’s voice brought her back to the reality of the situation. “Put me down,” she ordered, embarrassed now. “I’m fine.”

“Her apron was on fire. Her clothes would have gone up next,” he explained, lowering Ruth gently until her bare feet touched the ground.

“It looks like the fire’s almost out,” Mam said, turning to see Roman and one of the older boys spraying the back wall with fire extinguishers. “Thank goodness they were able to climb in the window and get the extinguishers.”

Ruth snatched off her ruined apron and accepted her Kapp that Mam handed her. Flustered, she stuffed her loose hair up in the dirty Kapp, stabbing the pins she had left into the hastily gathered knot of red hair.

“You sure you’re all right?” The beautiful stranger was beside her again. He cupped a strong hand under her chin, tilted her head up and looked boldly into her face.

Ruth bristled and brushed away his hand. The man staring at her was no angel and entirely too handsome for his own good. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with butter-yellow hair that tumbled over one eye and a dimple on his square chin. He was clean-shaven, she noticed, so he wasn’t married, although he was certainly old enough.

She choked and coughed again, more flustered by his familiarity than by the smoke still lingering in her mouth and lungs.

“Eli Lapp.” He offered his hand to her the way the English did, but she didn’t take it.

Another flush of embarrassment crept across her face.

“And you must be Ruth, Hannah’s daughter,” he said, letting his hand drop, but still grinning.

Ruth looked to her mother, feeling a betrayal of sorts. Mam knew this Eli? How did he know Mam? How did he know Ruth?

A hint of unease flashed across her mother’s face, quickly replaced with her normal calm. “Eli is Roman’s sister’s son. He’s come from Belleville, Pennsylvania, to work for Roman. We met at the chair shop yesterday. Thank the Lord he was close enough to help. You might have been badly burned.”

“I didn’t need rescuing,” she protested. She didn’t want to be beholden to this arrogant stranger who made her feel so foolish. “I saw the sparks. I was taking my apron off when he threw me on the grass.”

“Nevertheless, I thank God that he sent someone to watch over you.” Mam squeezed her hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Mam turned to face the school. The fire seemed to be out, and the men had set aside the fire extinguishers. “I just don’t see how this could have happened. We haven’t had a fire in the stove in weeks, and we have no electricity.”

“I’d say somebody started it,” Eli replied. “That’s how this kind of thing usually happens.”

Immediately, Ruth thought of Irwin Beachy, who she’d seen running away from the school, but she didn’t say anything. Irwin had a reputation for causing trouble. He’d been a thorn in Mam’s classroom ever since he’d come from Ohio to live with his cousins after his parents had died. But Irwin could have just been frightened by the fire. It would be wrong to accuse him, especially in front of this Eli.

“It was good you came when you did,” Mam said to Roman as he approached. “God must have sent you. If it wasn’t for you, we might have lost the school.”

“We were delivering a table to Esther Mose. We heard the bell.” Roman glanced at Ruth. “Good you thought to ring it.” He slapped Eli’s shoulder. “And good my nephew saw Ruth’s clothes catch fire.”

“Glad to be of service.” Eli stared boldly at Ruth and she felt heat wash over her again. “I’d hate to see such a pretty face burned.”

Ruth felt so self-conscious that she wanted to melt into the grass. “We’re thankful God sent you to save the school,” she said stiffly.

“No lives were lost and no one was injured,” Mam said. “Wood can be replaced.” She straightened her shoulders. “It appears we’ll be in need of a good carpenter. We’re nearly at the end of the school term, and the children can’t miss any days, especially those who are graduating.”

Eli winked at Ruth. Even with her face smudged with soot and her red hair all in a tangle, she was the prettiest girl he’d ever laid eyes on. She had the cutest little freckled nose and a berry-colored mouth. She wasn’t very tall; her head came barely to the top of his shoulder, but she was slim and neatly put together in her modest blue dress. But most of all, he was drawn to her eyes, nutmeg brown with dashes of cinnamon and ginger. “Aren’t you a little old to still be in school?” he teased.

“I am not in school,” she corrected him. “My mother forgot her dinner bucket, and I came to bring it to her.”

He grinned mischievously. Ruth wasn’t just pretty, she was saucy. A man didn’t come across too many saucy Amish girls where he came from. Mostly, they were quiet and meek. Hannah Yoder’s daughter was different, not just a pretty face and a tidy body. She had spirit, and he liked her at once. “If I thought you would bring my lunch, I might forget it, too.”

Chapter Two

The hanging oil lamp cast a warm golden light over the Yoder kitchen as Ruth’s family prepared for supper that evening. This was her favorite part of the day, and despite the near-tragedy of the fire, she found sweet comfort in the familiar odors of baking bread and the clatter of dishes and silverware.

Dutifully, Ruth helped her sisters carry food to the old trencher table that Dat’s great-grandfather had crafted. The kitchen was Plain, spacious and as neat as the starched white Kapp Mam wore to Sunday services under her black bonnet.

Ruth was carrying two steaming bowls of corn chowder to the table when she heard a knock on the back door.

“Whoever could that be?” Mam asked.

Anna placed an iron skillet of fresh-baked biscuits on top of the stove. “I’ll get it.”

Ruth had a strange feeling she knew who the unexpected visitor was, and she hurried to the window over the sink and tugged back the corner of the yellow chintz curtain. The minute she saw him, she dropped the curtain and spun around, leaning against the sink. “Don’t answer it!” she called, panic fluttering in her chest.

“Don’t answer it?” Anna laughed as she walked toward the back door. “Ruth, what’s gotten into you? You hit your head when that boy rolled you around in the grass today?”

Susanna giggled and covered her mouth with a chubby hand. Nothing was said or went on in Susanna’s presence that wasn’t repeated later to anyone who would listen.

“No, I didn’t hit my head,” Ruth whispered loudly. She felt silly and shaky at the same time, as if she’d played ring-around-the-rosy too long with her nephew. “It’s supper time. Just let him go.”

“Him?” Anna raised a blond eyebrow and Susanna giggled again.

Eli heard the sound of feminine voices on the other side of the door and yanked his straw hat off. Then, feeling silly, he dropped it back on his head. What was he doing? He wasn’t courting the girl; he’d just stopped by after work to check on her. Okay, so it wasn’t on his way home, but it was the proper thing to do, wasn’t it? To check on a girl after she’d nearly caught her clothes on fire?

Eli groaned. Who was he kidding? He knew very well Ruth was fine. She’d made that quite clear at the school yard. He should never have come to the Yoder house. When he had left Belleville, he’d sworn off pretty girls. They were nothing but trouble. Trouble, that was what it was that had led him here tonight, and if he had any sense at all, he’d turn and run before the door opened.

That was the smart thing to do. Eli took a step back, cramming his hat down farther on his head. A smart man would run.

He was just turning away when he heard the doorknob, and he spun back, yanking off his hat again. In his mind, he already saw Ruth, pretty as a picture, smiling up at him, thanking him for rescuing her from certain death today. He smiled as the door opened.

But it wasn’t Ruth, and he took a step back in surprise, nearly tripping down the step. Definitely not Ruth. This girl was taller and far rounder and not nearly so gentle on the eyes….

She looked as startled as he felt.

“H-hi.” Her round cheeks reddened as she wiped her hands on her apron, a smile rising on the corners of her lips.

He had that kind of effect on girls. They smiled a lot, giggled when they looked at him. “H-hi,” he echoed, feeling completely ridiculous. He heard someone whisper loudly from inside.

“Tell him I’m not here.”

The girl at the door smiled more broadly, bringing dimples to her cheeks, and she took a step toward him, practically filling the doorway so he couldn’t see inside.

Eli took another step back. That had to be Ruth he’d heard. It had sounded like her.

“Bet you’re Eli,” the girl said, crossing her arms over her plump chest.

He nodded, wishing more with every second that he’d taken that opportunity to run. “Yeah, yeah, I am.” He looked down at his scuffed boots, then up at her again. “I…stopped by on my way home just to see…to make sure Ruth was all right,” he stammered, and then started again. “You know, with the fire and all.”

“Just on your way home from the chair shop?” She nodded, still smiling. She knew very well his uncle’s farm wasn’t on his way home.

He didn’t know what to say, but that didn’t seem to bother her.

“I’m Anna, Ruth’s sister.” The big girl glanced over her shoulder. “We’re just sitting down to supper. Would you like to come in? We’ve got plenty.”

“Anna!” came Ruth’s voice from inside, followed by more giggles.

For a second Eli was tempted. The smell of fresh biscuits made his stomach growl. Supper with Ruth would make the day just about perfect.

But she was a pretty girl, and he was supposed to be staying away from pretty girls.

“No. Thank you.” He took another step back, making sure he hit the step. “I need to get home. Aunt Fannie will be expecting me. I just wanted to check to be sure she was okay. Ruth.” Somehow his hat had gotten in his hand again, and he gestured lamely toward the house.

“She’s fine,” Anna said sweetly. “She really appreciates you putting the fire out on her apron and saving her from burning to death in front of all the children.”

“Anna, please!” Ruth groaned from behind the door.

Eli had to suppress a grin. “Well, good night.”

“Good night.” Anna waved.

Eli nodded, stuck his hat back on his head, turned and made a hasty retreat before he got himself into any more trouble.

The minute Anna shut the door, Ruth grabbed her arm. “What are you doing inviting him to supper?” she whispered, not wanting Mam to hear her. In the Yoder household, there was always room for another at the table.

“He’s very cute,” Anna said. “He was just checking on you. He wanted to make sure you were all right.” She grabbed the biscuits to put on the table. “I think he likes you. Susanna said she thought he liked you.”

Ruth’s heart was still fluttering in her chest. The idea of a boy that good-looking liking her was certainly not a possibility. Boys like Eli liked girls like her sister Leah. Beautiful girls. Or they liked exciting girls like Miriam. Ruth knew she was attractive enough, but she was the steady girl, the good girl. She wasn’t beautiful or exciting.

“Supper time,” Mam called with authority, looking from Anna to Ruth.

Mam never missed a thing, but luckily, she said nothing about Eli being at the door. Ruth didn’t want to talk about Eli. Not ever. She just wanted to pretend the whole thing with her apron catching fire had never happened. It was too embarrassing.

“I hope there’s enough here,” Anna said, when they’d finished silent grace.

“This is plenty, daughter.”

“It all looks delicious, Anna,” Ruth said, finding her normal voice. Seated here at the table with her family, she could push thoughts of Eli Lapp and all her tumbling emotions out of her head. “But then everything you make is delicious.”

Anna smiled, always grateful for a compliment. Cooking seemed to be what she lived for. Ruth cared deeply for Anna, but even a sister’s loving eye couldn’t deny the truth that Anna’s features were as ordinary as oatmeal. Her mouth was too wide, and her round cheeks as rosy as pickled beets. Anna was what Mam called a healthy girl, tall and sturdy with dimpled elbows and wide feet. The truth was, Anna took up twice the room in the buggy as her twin Miriam.

Ruth knew the neighbors whispered that Anna would never marry but would be the daughter to stay home and care for her mother in her old age, but she thought they were wrong. Surely there was a good man somewhere out there who would appreciate Anna for who she was and what she had to offer.

“That was Eli Lapp at the door just wanting to make sure Ruth was all right. He was on his way home from the chair shop.” Anna cut her gaze at Ruth.

Miriam nearly choked on her chowder. “That was Eli Lapp from Belleville at the door?” She looked at their mother. “Dorcas said he rides a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. Aunt Martha saw him.”

“He’s allowed to if he hasn’t joined the church yet,” Anna offered. “Dinah said he’s rumspringa. You know those Pennsylvania Amish are a lot more liberal with their young people than our church.”

Susanna’s eyes widened. “Rump-spinga? What’s that?”

“Rumspringa,” Mam corrected gently. “Some Amish churches allow their teenage boys and girls a few years of freedom to experiment with worldly ways before they commit their lives to God. Anna is right. So long as Eli hasn’t yet been baptized, he can do what he wants, within reason.”

“Rumspringa,” Susanna repeated.

“He’s wild is what he is.” Miriam’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “That’s what everyone is saying. Handsome and wild.”

Ruth’s throat tightened. She was just starting to feel calmer, and now here they were talking about that boy again. It was almost as bad as having him right here at the supper table! Why was Miriam teasing her like this? She knew very well Ruth wasn’t interested in Eli Lapp…not in any boy.

“Let us eat before everything is cold.” Mam didn’t raise her voice, but she didn’t have to. All eyes turned to their plates, and for several loud ticks of the mantel clock, there was no sound but the clink of forks and spoons against Mam’s blue-and-white ironstone plates and the loud purring of Susanna’s tabby cat under the table.

They were just clearing away the dishes when a knock came at the kitchen door. “Who can that be now?” Miriam asked. “Think it’s Eli Lapp again?”

Anna and Miriam exchanged glances and giggled. Ruth stepped into the hall, seriously considering marching straight up the stairs to an early bedtime.

“I’ll get it.” Anna bustled for the door.

“Ne. I’ll get it.” Mam straightened her Kapp before answering the door.

When Ruth peeked around the corner, she was relieved to see that it was Samuel Mast, their neighbor.

He plucked at his well-trimmed beard as he stepped into the kitchen. “You’re eating. I should have waited.”

“Ne, ne,” Mam said. “You come in and have coffee and Anna’s rhubarb pudding with us. You know you are always welcome. Did Roman say how much the repairs on the school would cost?”

Anna carried a steaming mug of coffee to Dat’s place. Since Dat’s death, the seat was always reserved for company, and Samuel often filled it.

Ruth thought Samuel was sweet on Mam, but her mother would certainly deny it. Samuel was a God-fearing man with a big farm and a prize herd of milk cows; he was also eight years younger than Mam. Nevertheless, Ruth observed, he came often and stayed late, whenever someone could watch his children for the evening.

Samuel was a widower and Mam a widow. With Dat two years in the grave and Samuel’s wife nearly four, it was time they both remarried. Everyone said so. But Ruth didn’t believe her mother was ready to take that step, not even for solid and hardworking Samuel.

The trouble was, Ruth thought, Mam couldn’t discourage Samuel’s visits without hurting his feelings. They all valued his friendship. He was a deacon in their church, not a bishop, as Dat had been, but a respected and good man. Everyone liked him. Ruth liked him, just not as a replacement for her father.

And now Samuel would be here all evening again, delaying Ruth’s plans for a serious conversation with Mam about Irwin Beachy running from the fire. She didn’t want to make accusations without proof, but she couldn’t keep this from her mother. If Irwin had started the blaze, something would have to be done. But now there would be no chance to get Mam alone before bedtime. Samuel had settled in Dat’s chair, where he would stay until the clock struck eleven and Mam began pulling down the window shades. Talking to her mother about Irwin would have to wait until tomorrow.

Maybe that was a better idea anyway. Ruth was still flustered. First the incident at the school with that Eli, and then him showing up at their door asking for her. This had been a terrible day, and that wild Pennsylvania boy hadn’t made it any better.

Every Friday, three of the Yoder girls took butter, eggs, flowers and seasonal produce to Spence’s Auction and Bazaar in Dover, where they rented a table and sold their wares to the English. They would rise early so that they could set up their stand before the first shoppers of the day came to buy food from the Amish Market and prowl through the aisles of antiques, vegetables and yard sale junk. If the girls were lucky, they would sell out before noon.

The income was important to the household. There were items that they needed that Mam’s salary couldn’t cover. And no matter how tight the budget, each girl who worked was allowed to take a portion of the profit for her marriage savings or to buy something that she wanted. The sisters shared equally with Susanna, who always did her best to help.

Susanna loved the auction. She liked to watch the English tourists and she loved to poke through the dusty tables of glass dogs and plastic toys in the flea market. Today, Susanna had made a real find, an old Amish-style rag doll without a face. The doll had obviously had many adventures. Somewhere she’d lost her Kapp and apron, but Ruth promised that she would sew Dolly a new wardrobe and assured her sister that this doll was Plain enough to please even the bishop.

Today had been a slow day. They hadn’t sold everything, and it was long past lunchtime. Now it was clouding up in the west, and it looked to Ruth as if they might get an afternoon thunderstorm.

Across the way, Aunt Martha and Cousin Dorcas were already packing up their baked-goods stall. Ruth was just about to suggest to Miriam that they leave when, suddenly, there was a loud rumble.

Heads whipped around as Eli Lapp came roaring down the driveway between the lines of stalls on a battered old motorbike. Ruth almost laughed in spite of herself at the sight of him on the rickety contraption. Even she could see that it was no Harley motorcycle, as Aunt Martha had claimed. It was an ancient motorized scooter, hand-painted in awful shades of yellow, lime and black.

Susanna’s mouth opened in a wide O as she pointed at the motor scooter. Miriam called out and waved, and to Ruth’s horror, the Belleville boy braked his machine right in front of the Yoder stall.

“Hey!” he shouted, over the clatter of the bike. “Ruth, good to see you again.”

Ruth’s eyes narrowed as she felt a wash of hot blood rise up from her throat to scald her cheeks. Aunt Martha and Dorcas were staring from their stall. Even the English were chuckling and ogling them. Or maybe they were looking at the ugly bike; she couldn’t tell.

“Want a ride?” Eli dared, grinning at Ruth.

She was mortified by the attention. Eli Lapp was not only riding a ridiculous motor scooter, he wasn’t dressed Plain. He was wearing motorcycle boots, tight Englisher blue jeans and a blue-and-white T-shirt, two sizes too small, that read “Nittany Lions.”

“Ne. I do not want a ride,” she retorted. “Go away.” She thought she spoke with authority, but her voice came out choked and squeaky, and Miriam giggled.

“It’s perfectly safe, teacher’s girl,” he said. “I’ve even got a helmet.” He held up a red one, almost as battered as the bike.

“Ne,” Ruth repeated firmly, avoiding eye contact, even though he was staring right at her.

“If you won’t, I will,” Miriam cried, throwing up both hands.

And before Ruth could utter more than a feeble “Ne,” her sister scrambled around the table, hitched up her skirt and apron, and jumped on the back of the scooter.

“I want a ride, too!” Susanna declared, bouncing up and down.

Ruth cut her gaze to Miriam as she watched her boldly wrap her arms around Eli’s waist. “Miriam,” she ordered, “get off—”

Eli winked at Ruth, and the motorbike took off down the drive, out of the auction and onto the street, leaving her standing there looking foolish and Susanna jumping up and down for joy.

“Oh! Oh!” Susanna clapped her hands. “Did you see Miriam ride?”

“Help me load the rest of our things into the buggy. She’ll be back in a minute,” Ruth said, a lump in her throat.

She told herself she was upset that Miriam was doing something she shouldn’t be, but she knew in her heart of hearts it was that boy again. He was making her feel this way. And she didn’t like it. Not one bit.

As Ruth walked to the buggy, trying to look casual, she glanced in her aunt’s direction. Aunt Martha had her head close together with Dorcas, and the two were talking excitedly. That was definitely not good. Miriam’s poor decision would be all over Kent County by supper time. And there would be no doubt who would be held accountable. Ruth would.

She was the oldest left at home. Susanna and Miriam were her responsibility. They had not been baptized into the church yet, but she had. She should have known better than to let Miriam do something so foolish, so not Plain.

Ruth was just checking the horse’s harness when she heard the growl of the motorbike as it grew closer again. Stroking the old mare’s broad neck, she turned to see Eli and Miriam riding straight at her. A moment later, her sister was holding three ice-cream cones in the air and trying to get off the scooter without showing too much bare leg. Eli was laughing and talking to her as if they were old friends.

“He bought us ice cream.” Miriam licked a big drip of chocolate off her cone and handed the vanilla one to Susanna. “What do you say, Susanna?”

“Danke,” Susanna chirped.

“And here’s one for you.” Miriam had a twinkle in her eye as she held out the ice cream to Ruth. “I know you like strawberry.”

“No, thank you,” Ruth said stiffly. “I don’t want any.”

Miriam shoved the cone into her hand. “Don’t be such a prune,” she whispered. “Eat it. Mam wouldn’t want you to waste food.”

Ruth glared at Eli as she felt the cold cream run down her fingers.

“I see Miriam got back in one piece,” Dorcas called as she hurried across the driveway toward Ruth. “Mam saw her and—”

“Here.” Flustered, Ruth handed her cousin the ice-cream cone. “You like ice cream. You eat it.”

Eli looked right at Ruth, laughed and roared away on his noisy machine.

Chapter Three

Ruth glanced at Mam and then turned her attention back to Blackie, their driving gelding, and eased him onto the shoulder of the busy road to allow a line of cars to pass. Blackie was a young horse, and Ruth didn’t completely trust him yet, not like she did old Molly, so she liked to keep a sharp eye out for traffic.

“So why did you wait so long to tell me about Irwin?” Her mother’s soft voice carried easily over the regular clip-clop of Blackie’s hooves on the road and the rumble of the buggy wheels. The rain, which had held off all day, was coming down in a spattering of large drops.

Miriam had gone ahead with Anna, Susanna and Johanna and her children to the quilting frolic at Lydia Beachy’s house in the big buggy, leaving her and Mam to follow in the smaller courting buggy. Dat had brought this single-seat carriage from Pennsylvania with him twenty-six years ago. It was just the right size for two, perfect for private conversation. Ruth had counted on being able to voice her concerns about Irwin, and she wanted to tell Mam about this afternoon’s incident with Eli Lapp and his ridiculous motorbike before anyone else did.

“Ruth?” Mam pressed.

“I meant to, but…” An ominous roll of thunder sounded off to the west, and she flicked the reins to urge Blackie into a trot as she pulled back onto the road. “But Samuel came last night and then there was no chance to talk with you alone and today we were both gone all day.”

“I see. Well, Irwin wasn’t in school today.”

“He wasn’t?”

“I asked three of Irwin’s cousins why he wasn’t there and got three different excuses,” Mam said.

Ruth sighed. “I don’t want to accuse him. I just thought it was strange that he’d run away like that. I suppose he could have seen the fire and been trying to put it out.” She hesitated. “But since Irwin is always making mischief…”

“Losing his whole family in a fire, coming to Delaware to live with people he hardly knows, it’s no wonder he acts out.” Mam folded her arms in a gesture that meant no nonsense. “I won’t judge him until we know the truth, and neither should you.”

Ruth didn’t want to argue with Mam, but neither was she going to hold her tongue when she had something to say. “He did set Samuel’s outhouse on fire last month. He gave Toby a black eye and you sent him home twice from school for fighting this month.”

Mam frowned. “The boy has a lot of anger inside. He needs love, not accusations and false judgments.”

“But if he makes a habit of playing with matches…”

“Where’s your charity? In my experience, the wildest boys turn out to be the most dependable men.”

Ruth winced. “You know I don’t mean to be uncharitable. I just thought you should know what I saw with my own eyes.”

“And rightly so.” Mam nodded. “Now that I do know, I’ll handle it.”

When Ruth didn’t comment, Mam continued. “The school can be repaired, but if people start talking about Irwin, the damage to a child’s soul may not be so easy to mend.”

“You’re right, but what if he’s a danger to others?”

“Have faith, Ruth. I’ll do my part, the Beachys will do theirs, and God will do the rest.”

“What will you do?” Her heart went out to the boy, as unlikable as he was, but they had to think of the other children’s safety, too. As much as she valued her mother’s judgment, she had to be satisfied that they weren’t taking unnecessary chances to protect Irwin.

“I’ll talk to him privately.” Mam pursed her mouth. “Last night, Samuel confided that he suspects his twins know something about the fire, something they were afraid to tell.”

“What made him think that?”

“Samuel said it wasn’t what they said—it was what they didn’t say.” Mam squeezed her hand. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. Not to worry.”

She glanced at her mother, wanting to believe her, wishing her own faith in others came as easily as it seemed to come to Mam. “You always say that.”

“And it’s always true, isn’t it? Things usually work out for the best.”

Her mother smiled at her, and Ruth was struck by how young and pretty she still was at forty-six. Tonight, she was wearing a lavender dress with her black apron, and her black bonnet was tied over her starched white Kapp. No one would guess by looking at Mam’s waistline that she’d given birth to seven children. “You must have been a beautiful bride, Mam.”

“Why, Ruth Yoder, what a thing to say. I hope I was properly Plain. Vanity is not a trait to be encouraged.”

Ruth suppressed a smile. Mam might not admit it, but she cared about her appearance. It was Ruth’s opinion that on her wedding day, her mother must have been just as beautiful as Leah. Hadn’t Dat always said he’d snapped up the prettiest girl in Kent County? “No one could accuse you of Hochmut, Mam. You never show a speck of self-pride.”

“Not according to your grossmama. It took a long time for your dat’s mother and family to accept me after we married.”

“Because you grew up Mennonite and had to join the Amish Church to marry Dat?” That was something of a family scandal, but once she had joined the church, no one now could ever accuse Mam of not being properly Plain in her demeanor or her faith.

“Maybe, or maybe it was that your dat was her only son.”

“And we were all girls.”

“God’s gifts to us, every one of you.” Mam squeezed her hand. “Believe that, Ruth. Your father never blamed me that we had no sons. He always said he got exactly what he prayed for.”

Ruth’s throat constricted as she turned Blackie onto Norman and Lydia Beachy’s long dirt lane behind the Troyer buggy. “I miss Dat.”

“And so do I. Every day.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to marry Samuel?”

Hannah chuckled. “If I were to consider such a thing, wouldn’t it be wiser to settle that matter with Samuel first?” She patted Ruth’s hand again. “Mind your own mending, daughter.”

As Blackie’s quick trot drew the buggy toward the house and barn, Ruth realized that she hadn’t had time to tell Mam about Miriam’s ride on the back of Eli Lapp’s motor scooter.

As the buggy neared the rambling two-story farmhouse, Ruth saw several of the Beachy children in the yard taking charge of the guests’ horses. As she reined in Blackie, she spotted Irwin coming out from behind a corncrib to take hold of the horse’s bridle. “A good evening to you,” she called.

Irwin winced and took a firmer grip on Blackie. The horse twitched his ears.

“We missed you at school today, Irwin,” Mam said mildly.

He mumbled something, fixing his gaze on his bare feet.

Ruth climbed down out of the buggy and gathered their quilting supplies. “Did you hurt yourself?” she asked, noticing a soiled bandage on the boy’s left hand.

“Ne.” He tucked his hand behind his back.

“It’s all right, dear.” Mam smiled at him as she picked up the Blitzkuchen Anna had baked. “No need to explain. I’ll talk to Lydia about it.”

His eyes widened in alarm. “Don’t do that, teacher.”

“Then we’d best have a private talk. Come in early tomorrow morning.”

“But that’s Saturday. There’s no school on Saturday.”

“I need help to move some of the desks around to make room for Roman to do the repairs.” She paused. “And, Irwin? Don’t be late.”

“Be careful with Blackie,” Ruth cautioned. “He’s easily spooked.”

Irwin nodded. “Ya, I will.” He led the horse a few steps, then glanced back over his shoulder. “You won’t say nothin’ to Cousin Lydia, will ya?”

“After we have our talk, I’ll decide if there’s anything Lydia and Norman need to know.”

“I don’t mean to make trouble.” He shrugged. “It just happens.”

“Sometimes trouble finds us all,” Mam said as she started up the steps to the house. Ruth hurried ahead and opened the door for her.

Inside Lydia’s kitchen, Hannah and Ruth greeted several neighbors. From the next room, where everyone had gathered, Ruth could hear the excited buzz of voices as members of the community caught up on the latest news. One of Lydia’s girls took their black bonnets and capes, and Lydia turned from the stove to welcome them.

Lydia was a tall, thin, freckle-faced woman with a narrow beak of a nose, a wide mouth and very little chin. “I’m so glad you could all come,” she said with genuine warmth, deftly sliding a pan of hot gingerbread onto the counter. Lydia’s voice came out flat, evidence of her mid-western upbringing. “After yesterday’s fire, I didn’t know if you’d feel up to joining us.”

Ruth couldn’t help noting Lydia’s rounded tummy. Another baby on the way. God was certainly blessing the Beachy family. Lydia was a true inspiration to Ruth. She hadn’t hesitated when Irwin’s family had been lost, and she had welcomed him into her family.

“It smells wonderful in here,” Mam said, glancing around at the pies and cakes set on the table and counters. “You know we wouldn’t miss your frolic. The quilt money will help with the school repairs.”

Ruth looked around for her sister Johanna. The community quilting project to support the school was her idea. Johanna had sketched antique quilt patterns and carefully chosen the fabrics and colors. Everyone contributed to the cost of the material, and at each quilting night, every woman would sew one or more squares. Later this summer, they would assemble them in a daylong effort.

Ruth wasn’t nearly as talented with a needle as Johanna, but she loved the chance to get together with friends and neighbors, especially when they were all working for such a good cause.

Lydia’s crowded kitchen, smelling strongly of cinnamon, ginger and pine oil, was pandemonium as always. Both the woodstove and the gas stove were lit, and the room was overwarm. A large, shallow pan of milk, covered with a thin layer of cheesecloth, sat waiting for the cream to rise beside a spotless glass butter churn. On the counter and in the big soapstone sink, the last of the Beachy supper dishes stood, waiting to be washed. Without being asked, Ruth rolled up her sleeves, took down a work apron from a hook and went to the sink.

Four small giggling children, one of them Johanna’s three-year-old son Jonah, darted around the long wooden table chasing an orange tabby. The cat leaped to a counter and dashed to safety, barely missing a lemon pie piled high with meringue, and headed for a direct collision with the unprotected pan of milk.

Lydia juggled a pitcher of lemonade in one hand as she snagged the cat with the other. Without hesitation, she then separated two toddlers tugging on the same stuffed toy. “Out,” she commanded, shooing the children toward the sitting room. As the last little girl’s bonnet strings passed through the doorway, Lydia turned to Mam with a look of despair.

“A long day?” Mam asked.

“I hate to complain, Hannah.”

“Complaining is not the same as sharing our woes.”

“It’s that boy. I’m at my wits’ end with Irwin. I try to be patient, but—”

Ruth turned back to the sink full of dishes and tried to give them a little privacy even though her mother and Lydia were only a few feet away.

“I know he’s having a hard time adjusting, Lydia,” Mam supplied.

“He is. He and our Vernon scrap like cats in a barrel. At twelve, the boy should have some sense, but…”

“He’ll come around,” Mam soothed.

Lydia lowered her voice. “It’s what I tell Norman, but he says we can’t trust the boy. I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

“No one doubts that you and Norman have been good to Irwin.”

“We try, but he’s late for meals. Remiss in his chores. He let the dairy cows into the orchard twice.” Lydia sighed. “I hope we haven’t made a mistake in opening our home—”

A baby’s wail cut through the murmur of female voices from the other room. “Is that your little Henry?” Mam asked.

“Go, get off your feet and see to him, Lydia,” Ruth said, turning from the sink. “You, too, Mam. I can finish up here.” The dishes clean and stacked neatly in a wooden drying rack, she dried her hands on a towel. She was just reaching for the can of coffee when she heard her aunt Martha’s strident voice.

“Hannah, here you are.” She bustled into the room, letting Lydia pass, but blocking Mam. “I wondered where you were.”

Ruth forced a polite greeting. Aunt Martha was more trouble than a headache. According to Dat, his older sister’s hair had once been as red as his. Now the wisps of hair showing under her Kapp were gray, and the only auburn hairs were two curling ones sprouting on her chin. She was a tall, sparse woman with a thin mouth and a voice that could saw lumber.

“How are the children?” Mam asked. “And Reuben? Is he well?”

“His bad knee is troubling him. He thinks we might have rain all weekend. I left him working on his sermon for Sunday services.”

“I’m sure it will be as good as his last service,” Ruth said, unable to help herself. Reuben was a good man, but he could be long-winded. Very long-winded. In fact, he could speak more and say less than anyone she knew.

Mam threw Ruth a warning look, and Ruth hid a smile.

Aunt Martha glanced around, a sure sign that she was about to launch into one of her reprimands. When she did that, Ruth could never be sure if she was looking to be sure no one was near, or hoping they were.

“I’ve been wanting to speak to you, Hannah.”

She took on a tone Ruth knew well. Mam was in for it. “You were my younger brother’s wife, and I have a duty to tell you when I see something not right.” Aunt Martha cleared her throat. “You, too, Ruth.”

Ruth steeled herself. So she was in for it as well.

Aunt Martha was a faithful member of the church and the community, but she liked to point out the errors of other people, especially Mam’s daughters. And too often, she saw a small sin bigger than it actually was.

Ruth wasn’t sure if she was in the mood tonight to be too charitable. “Aunt Martha…”

“Quiet, girl. Show some respect for your elders. It’s for your own good and your mother’s. I don’t say this lightly.” She sucked in her cheeks in disapproval.

Ruth gritted her teeth. She had to learn to be more patient. Like Mam. She wanted to be more patient; it was just that sometimes Aunt Martha made it difficult.

“And me being the wife of the minister, well, that makes it my duty, as well…” Martha took a deep breath and pointed a plump finger at Mam. “Hannah, your household is out of control.” She scowled at Ruth. “And you’re partly to blame.”

Ruth bit her bottom lip to keep from speaking up. It did no good with Aunt Martha, not when she was like this. It was better just to keep quiet, listen and hope the tirade passed quickly.

“And I’m not the only one to have noticed,” Martha went on. “Reuben was just saying to me the other day that it’s unseemly for you, Hannah, to be teaching school like an unmarried girl.”

“I’m sorry my teaching troubles you,” Mam said. “But our school needs a teacher, and I’m qualified.”

“The school board and the bishop approved Mam’s appointment,” Ruth put in. “And her salary helps to support our family.”

Martha frowned. “Your mother should have remarried by now. Then it wouldn’t be necessary for her to work.”

“It’s only been two years, Martha. Jonas…”

“Two years and seven months, sister. By custom, it’s time you put away your mourning and accepted another husband. If you had a God-fearing man in your house, your girls wouldn’t be acting inappropriately.”

“Inappropriately?” Mam’s brows arched. “How have they behaved inappropriately? Lately?” she clarified, spunk in her voice.

“Today. At Spence’s.”

“Eli Lapp was there,” Ruth explained quickly. “He bought ice cream for Susanna and Miriam.”

Aunt Martha eyes widened with great exaggeration. “So this is the first you’ve heard of it, Hannah? Miriam made a show of herself with that wild Belleville boy. She rode on his motorcycle in front of everyone. With her skirts up and her Kapp flying off her head. Her arms were around his waist. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Really?” Mam asked.

Ruth noticed Lydia and Aunt Martha’s younger sister, Aunt Alma, peering into the kitchen. Lydia’s cheeks took on a rosy hue. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to—”

“Ne,” Mam said. “There’s nothing to hide. Martha was telling me that my tomboy daughter was riding behind Roman’s nephew on a motorcycle at Spence’s today.”

“Scooter,” Ruth corrected gently, feeling she had to defend her sister, even though she didn’t really want to defend Eli. “It wasn’t really a motorcycle. It was a motor scooter—”

“Scooter? Cycle? It doesn’t matter what the loud English machine is called,” Aunt Martha declared. “It’s unseemly for a young girl like my niece to make such a spectacle of herself.” She glared at Ruth. “Or for her older sister to allow it.”

Mam chuckled. “It would be just like Miriam to take a ride on the machine, wouldn’t it?” She shook her head. “But it’s not so bad, is it? She’s not joined the church yet. It’s natural for her to dabble with the world…just as we did once.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as if she knew some secret about Aunt Martha that Ruth and the others didn’t.

“It’s wrong,” Aunt Martha argued, her cheeks turning red. “You’ve been far too lenient with your daughters.”

“Mam is a good mother and a good role model,” Ruth said.

“You hold your tongue, young woman,” Aunt Martha fussed. “This would never have happened if my brother was alive.”

“Ne. Probably not,” Mam said. “And I agree that a motor scooter is dangerous, especially without a helmet. I’ll speak with Miriam about it.”

“You don’t understand the danger of situations like these,” Aunt Martha went on. “Of what people will say. How could you? You weren’t born Plain.”

“What does Mam being born Mennonite have to do with—”

Mam silenced Ruth with a wave of her hand. Once Mam’s temper was set off, she could handle Aunt Martha, and Mam’s amusement had definitely faded.

“Martha, you should mind the sharpness of your tongue. I don’t think my being born Mennonite has anything to do with my daughter taking a ride on an old motorbike, and I don’t think your brother, my husband, would approve of such talk. None of us should be too quick to pass judgment on Eli Lapp. He’s rumspringa and a visitor among us. How can we condemn what his church and family allows?”

“I suppose you believe Ruth is right, too.” Martha planted her hands on her broad hips. “In allowing Miriam to do such a thing.”

“Ruth is a sensible girl,” Hannah pointed out. “She’d never let her sisters come to harm. I trust her judgment.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t this time.” Aunt Alma, a shorter and paler reflection of Aunt Martha, hustled up to stand beside her sister. “I had a letter just yesterday from our cousin in Belleville about this Lapp boy. It’s worse than we first thought.”

“Tell them, Alma. I think it’s for the best we all know what’s what,” Aunt Martha prodded.

Aunt Alma needed no further encouragement. “Rumor has it that Eli’s family sent him away because he got a girl in the family way and refused to marry her.”

Ruth’s chest tightened, and she suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She didn’t want hear any more, but she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t walk away.

“So!” Aunt Martha cried, seeming almost pleased with the awful accusation. “Is that the kind of young man we want to welcome into our community?”

Eli moved deeper into the shadows of the lilac bush that grew outside the Beachys’ kitchen window. He could see Ruth standing very still near the sink, a drying towel in her slender hands. There were other women in the room, but Eli paid no attention to them; he saw no one but Ruth. Light from a kerosene lantern illuminated the planes of her heart-shaped face and glinted off the strands of red-gold hair that escaped from her Kapp. She was a beautiful girl. No, a beautiful woman.

He wished he’d gotten here sooner, wished he’d thought sooner of bringing the hand drill that Roman had promised to loan Norman. If he’d walked faster across the fields, maybe he would have had been in the yard in time to take Ruth’s horse when she and her family had arrived. Then he would have had the opportunity to speak a few words with her.

It was obvious that Ruth Yoder didn’t think too much of him, which was a new experience for him. Back home, girls and their mothers and their aunties usually liked him a lot, sometimes too much. He supposed it was his bad luck to be born with his dat’s features. Too pretty for a man, they’d always called him, too fair of face to be properly Plain. Truth was, Dat’s face had gotten him in plenty of trouble…as it had his son.

This was one time Eli would have liked his looks to be an asset. He’d taken one look at that mane of tumbled auburn hair in the school yard, and his heart had swelled in his chest, beating as if he’d run a mile. There was something about Ruth Yoder, something about the curve of her lips and her stubborn little chin that got to him in a way no other girl had ever done.

But Ruth Yoder was a religious girl, the kind he’d always steered clear of, the kind of girl he knew would have no interest in him. So why had he walked two miles through the rain tonight to catch sight of her?

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew the answer. He’d been lightning-struck by a red-headed girl with soot on her nose and fire in her eyes.

Chapter Four

More white Kapps and curious faces appeared in the archway leading to the sitting room. The women all stared at Ruth, her mother, Aunt Martha and Aunt Alma. Fortunately, Lydia came to the rescue. Bouncing a wailing infant on her shoulder, she pushed through the crowd and raised her strident voice above little Henry’s cries. “Shouldn’t we get to work on the quilt?”

“Ya,” Mam agreed, nodding. “We have much to do.” She linked her arm through Aunt Martha’s. “Come, sit by me, sister. Your stitches are so neat that I find myself inspired just watching you.”

Aunt Martha’s beady eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Mam’s genuine smile weakened her fortitude. “All right, if you want. I never meant harm, you know, Hannah. We have to look out for each other.”

Aunt Alma nodded vigorously. “Ya, we must. You are our dear brother’s wife.”

“It is hard to be a mother,” Aunt Martha added. “Harder still to be a mother without the strong guidance of a husband.”

Several others agreed and apprehensive expressions gave way to general good humor. Whatever the women had heard would soon make the rounds, but Ruth knew that her mother was liked and appreciated in the community. Mam would not come out the worst in this.

“Ruth, could you pull the kitchen shades for me?”

Johanna, who’d come into the kitchen as the others were filing into the sitting room, winked at Ruth as she crossed to the window to help. “What was that all about?” she whispered. “What’s Miriam done now?”

Ruth bit back a chuckle. “I’m in hot water, too. And Mam.”

Her sister made a tsk-tsk sound with her tongue and both broke into suppressed giggles. “For shame,” Johanna admonished.

“Johanna!” Lydia called from the next room. “We can’t start until you assign squares.”

“Go on,” Ruth urged. “I’ll get the shades.”

As Johanna left the room, Ruth turned back to the bank of windows that lined the wall, assuring plenty of light in the big kitchen even in winter. No curtains covered the wide glass panes, just spartan white shades. There was nothing to hide, but drawing the shades after dark was a custom strictly held to in the Amish community.

As Ruth reached for the last blind, she noticed movement near Lydia’s lilac bushes outside the window. At first, she assumed it must be one of the children. But the figure was too tall and broad-shouldered to be a child. She paused, drawing close to the window for a better look, cupping her hands around her eyes to cut down on the glare reflected from light inside the kitchen.

To her surprise, a man stepped out from behind the lilacs almost directly in front of her. Light from the window shone on his face as he turned toward her, and she realized she was almost nose to nose with Eli Lapp.

Ruth jerked back, heart pounding as though she’d been racing Miriam to the orchard. What was he doing there, spying on the women? Was he some kind of pervert? She grabbed hold of the shade and yanked it down, but not before she caught a glimpse of his expression. He was grinning at her!

Cheeks burning, she marched across the kitchen and flung open the back door. “What are you doing out here?” she demanded. “Watching you.”

“Where are your manners?” She ran her hand over her Kapp and then dropped it to her side, once again flustered by him. She’d caught him doing something wrong; why was she the one who felt foolish? “Did your mother never teach you better?” she demanded, trying to cover the awkwardness she felt with anger. “Why would you stare at me through a window?”

“You’re pretty when you’re cross. Did you know that?”

“You! You are impossible!”

“You should have talked to me when I came to your house,” he said, still grinning like a mule. “I just wanted to know if you were all right.”

“I’m fine. I told you that at the school. I’m not hurt.” She paused to catch her breath. “I thank you for checking on me, but—”

“How many sisters do you have?”

“How many sisters?” she repeated. She felt tongue-tied, awkward. She knew she must be as red as a beet. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t used to talking to boys. She had lots of friends who were boys: Dan, Charley, even Gideon, but none of them had ever made her so…so not like herself. “Why? Why do you ask me that?”

“Don’t you know how many sisters you have? It must be a lot.”

There was a broom standing beside the door. She wanted to pick it up and hit him with it. She’d never wanted to cause hurt to anyone before, but this…this Eli Lapp was impossible. She forced herself to speak calmly. “There is my older sister Johanna, the twins, Miriam and Anna. Anna met you at the door—”

“Aha. So you were listening. You told her to tell me to go away. You were afraid to talk to me,” he said.

“I was not. I was helping my mother put supper on the table. It was not the best time for a guest to arrive uninvited. And now you know I am fine. I have thanked you.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “So you can leave me alone.”

Eli took a step closer. She could smell some kind of shaving lotion or maybe men’s perfume. Who could tell what he would wear? What he might do? But it smelled nice. Manly. “You didn’t answer my question.”

There he was making her feel dizzy again. “What question?”

“How many sisters you have,” he teased. “A teacher’s daughter, you should be good with math.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I know how many sisters I have. There are seven of us.”

“All redheads? I like redheads.”

Unconsciously, Ruth tucked a stray curl back under her Kapp. “That is none of your business. I’m going back inside, and you should go…go wherever your affairs take you.” She turned away.

“Do they have names, these other sisters? Are they all as pretty as you are?”

She spun back, quickly losing control of her patience again. “There’s Johanna, me, Anna, Miriam, Leah, Rebecca and Susanna. And they are all prettier than me.”

“I’d have to see that to believe it.”

Ruth opened her mouth, then closed it. Not knowing what else to say, she closed the door hard and hurried into the sitting room.

She found a seat between Dinah and Anna and located her own sewing kit. It seemed that everyone there was talking at once. Miriam was passing out squares of cloth, and young and old were busy threading needles.

“Dinah has suggested that we hold the end-of-year school picnic early,” Mam said. “She has another idea to help pay for the building repairs.”

“We could invite the other Amish churches,” Dinah explained, “and have a pie auction for the men. Each unmarried woman will bake her favorite pie and donate it, and the bachelors will bid on them.”

“And whoever buys a pie gets to eat lunch with the girl who made it,” Johanna explained. “They do it at the Cedar Hill Church in Nebraska where Dinah’s cousin lives. And they always make lots of money.”

Ruth tried to look interested in the plans, but she couldn’t really concentrate. She kept thinking about what Eli had said. He said she was pretty. No one had ever told her she was pretty. Did he mean it? Why did she care?

Then she thought about what Aunt Alma had said about the letter she’d received. Could it be true? Could Eli have gotten a girl in the family way? Sometimes even Plain youth strayed from Amish beliefs, but such mistakes were rare. She’d never heard of any Plain couple who’d failed to marry if there was a babe coming. If Eli had gotten a girl pregnant, he’d be married now, living in Belleville, wouldn’t he?

“Ruth.” Dinah nudged her and motioned to Hannah. “Your mam wants something from the carriage.”

Ruth looked up.

“That old section of quilt in the black bag,” Mam said. “The one with my great-grandmother’s sunflower pattern. I think we left it under the buggy seat.” She glanced back at Lydia. “It’s not in the best of shape, but it’s so pretty, I’ve always kept it.”

Ruth nodded and rose, then hesitated. What if Eli Lapp was still out there? She didn’t want to see him. Couldn’t. Not after the way he’d teased her…not after the way she’d talked to him.

But there was no way to refuse her mother, not without giving her a reason, and right now the idea of that was more frightening than the idea of coming nose to nose with Eli again.

Forcing herself to move, Ruth picked her way through the closely seated women. As she reached the door, she contemplated what she would do if Eli was still standing outside near the kitchen door. Not that she was afraid of him. She’d simply ignore him. He could grin foolishly at her if he wanted to, but if he got no reaction from her, he’d soon leave her alone. The Yoder girls didn’t associate with boys like him.

Immediately, a flood of confusion washed through her. Was she as lacking in grace as Aunt Martha? Was she judging Eli and finding him guilty, simply on gossip? What if the whole story was wrong? In her eagerness to share, Aunt Alma didn’t always get the details right. What if Eli was innocent of any crime other than riding an ugly motor scooter and coming to Delaware to work in his uncle’s chair shop?

And he’d said she was pretty. She smiled, in spite of herself.

Her heartbeat quickened as she opened the back door and descended the wooden kitchen steps to the yard, eyeing the lilac bushes. There was no sign of Eli there. Near the barn, several small boys chased each other in a game of tag, but there was no sign of the Belleville boy there either. If she could just find her horse and the courting buggy in the dark, amid a sea of black buggies, she could grab the quilt square and hurry back into the house.

Irwin stepped out of the corncrib and walked out into the muddy yard. “Looking for your carriage?”

Irwin was very Plain, even for an Amish, so Plain that he stood out among the other boys. His trousers were too high on skinny ankles; the corners of his mouth were red and crusted, and his narrow shoulders sagged with the weight of a man six times his age. He looked as though he could do with a few good meals and a haircut.

Her mother’s words about being quick to judge echoed in her ears. Was she judging both Irwin and Eli unfairly? Would she be just like her Aunt Martha in ten years?

“I did like you said,” Irwin volunteered. “You said your horse was easy spooked, so I unhitched him and turned him into an empty stall in the barn. Your buggy is in the barn, too.”

It was more words than she’d ever heard Irwin offer at one time. And putting Blackie in the barn was a kind thing to do. “Thank you,” she said, smiling at him. Maybe Mam was right; maybe there was more to this boy than anyone saw at first glance.

He tilted his head and reverted to his usual soft stammer. “Sure,” he said, then walked away.

Raindrops spattered her face and arms as she hurried to the barn. Inside, a single lantern hung from a big cross-beam. Dat’s buggy was where Irwin had said it would be, standing alone in the center of the aisle between the box stalls. Blackie raised his head and nickered. Ruth went to him and rubbed his head, noting that a big bucket of fresh water hung from one corner post, and someone had tossed hay into the manger. “Good boy,” she murmured.

“Me or him?”

The voice from inside the buggy startled her. Eli Lapp. Again.

She sucked in a breath and made an effort to hold back the sharp retort that rose to her lips. “Are you still here?” she asked, her voice far too breathy for either of them to believe she was entirely composed.

He chuckled, a deep sound of amusement that made her stomach flip over. “Maybe I hoped you’d come out here looking for me.”

She stared at him. “Why would I do that?”

He grinned. “Tell the truth. You did, didn’t you?”

“Ne. N-not for you. Mam asked me to fetch something from the carriage.”

She hadn’t been able to see him clearly in the shadows outside the house, but she could see him now. Eli was wearing Plain clothes tonight, black trousers, blue shirt, straw hat, but he was still fancy. He was chewing a piece of hay, and it gave him a rakish look.

Hochmut, she thought. But she couldn’t deny that she found him handsome, so handsome that she could feel it in the pit of her stomach. Was this temptation? The kind Uncle Reuben talked about in his sermons sometimes?

“Be a shame to waste a courting buggy,” he said. “A Kishacoquillas buggy, if I’m not mistaken.” He offered her his hand. “Why don’t you come up and tell me about it?”

She tucked her hands behind her back. “I just need the bag from under the seat. There’s a piece of an old quilt in it. My sister wanted us to bring it for the pattern.” Now she was rambling. She wanted to leave Mam’s bag and run back to the house to the safety of the women’s chatter.

“Still scared?” He was teasing her again.

“Of what?”

“Me?” He held out his hand seeming to dare her.

She would not get into the buggy with him. It was a bad idea, a decision that could only…But somehow, without realizing how or why, she found herself clasping his hand. It was warm and calloused, a strong hand, and nothing at all like the familiar hands of her sisters.

The next thing she knew, she was perched on the seat beside him.

“See,” he said, grinning at her. “I come in peace.”

“You…you,” she sputtered. “I don’t like you one bit.”

He laughed. “Oh, yes, you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have come looking for me. Or gotten into the buggy.” He looked down. “And you wouldn’t still be holding my hand.”

Ruth jerked her hand from his, mortified. It wasn’t that she meant to let him hold her hand; he just had her so confused.

She fumbled under the seat for Mam’s bag. Eli’s all-too-warm leg rested innocently against hers, making her vividly aware of his strong body and broad shoulders. He smelled clean and all male. She’d always hated the stench of tobacco that clung to some men, but there was none of that about Eli. His hair and body were fresh, his old high-tops were polished to a shine, and the nails on his big hands were clean and cut straight across.

“I have to go back inside.”

“Ya, I suppose you do,” he agreed. “But it’s nice sitting here, don’t you think?”

“Ne. I don’t.” It was actually. Her mouth was dry, her heart raced, and her knees felt oddly weak, but the barn did smell good and the rain patting on the tin roof sounded comforting.

And then he took hold of her hand again.

She wanted to pull her hand free. He’d gone too far. She wasn’t the type to be so easy with a boy. Especially one she didn’t know. A boy with a reputation. She had her good name to think of, her family’s. “Let me go, Eli.”

He released her immediately. “You haven’t asked me about the burns on my hands, the injuries I got by coming to your rescue and saving you from a fiery death.” He held out his hands. They were lean hands, a working man’s hands.

“See that? And that?” He indicated two tiny blisters and a faint redness. “I may need to see an English doctor—go to the hospital.”

Ruth could hardly hold back a giggle. “That? That’s the smallest blister I’ve ever seen, Eli. You boys in Belleville must be sissies, to make such a fuss about a little burn like that.”

“Say it again.” He stared intently at her, making her warm all over again. “What?”

“Eli. Say my name again. I like the way you say it.”

Ruth clutched the quilt bag to her chest. “I have to go. I—”

“Ruth?” Irwin pulled open the heavy Dutch door of the barn. “Teacher wants to know what’s taking so long.”

“Coming.” Quickly, she scrambled down, ignoring the offer of assistance from Eli’s outstretched hand.

He chuckled and put a finger to his lips. “I won’t say a word,” he promised. “What happened here in the barn will be our secret.”

“We have no secrets,” she said and marched stiffly away, trying to salvage some shred of dignity.

If Irwin knew that she hadn’t been alone in the buggy, he made no mention of it. She went back to the house. As she neared the sitting-room entrance, she heard Aunt Martha’s raised voice.

“She’s not getting any younger, Hannah. What was wrong with Bennie Mast, I ask you? Eats a little too hearty, maybe, but a good boy, from a good family. I’m telling you, she’s too choosy, your Ruth.”

“She’s that,” Aunt Alma joined in. “And I heard she turned down Alf King, wouldn’t even ride home from the singing with him. If she’s not careful, she’ll miss out on the best catches. She’ll end up marrying some Ohio widower twice her age.”

Ruth stopped short. Bad enough she’d made a fool of herself in the barn, but now her aunt was holding her up as an old maid, someone who couldn’t get a husband. She couldn’t believe they were talking about this again. Why wouldn’t they understand that she couldn’t accept Bennie or Alf or the other boys who’d wanted to drive her home from a young people’s singing? Why couldn’t she make them see that her duty was to remain at home to take care of Susanna and her mother? That not every woman could or even should have a husband and children of her own? Mam needed her. Her little sister needed her. Her responsibility was to her family.

“Here’s your bag, Mam,” she said too loudly as she entered the room. “So many buggies in the yard, it took a while to find ours.” That wasn’t dishonest, was it? Or had her foolishness with Eli Lapp caused her to make up lies as well?

“Look at these colors,” Mam said as she took the bag from Ruth. “Barely faded in all these years. And such beautiful needlework. I vow, Johanna, you must have inherited your great-great-grandmother’s gift with stitchery.”

Ruth settled gratefully into her empty seat and picked up her square of cloth. She would make up for her wasted time in the barn, and she would forget Eli and his inappropriate behavior. It would have been a much easier task if the memory of his hand on hers wasn’t so real or if she could forget how nice it had been sitting next to him in the privacy of the big barn. No boy had ever made her feel that way before.

Hazel Zook’s round cheeks and pink laughing mouth rose to haunt Eli, replacing the image of Ruth Yoder’s angelic face in his mind. He picked up his pace as he strode back across the wet fields toward his uncle’s house. Glimpses of that night flashed in his head. He’d put miles and months between him and Hazel, but it wasn’t enough. He just couldn’t get her and what had happened off his conscience.

Light rain hit him in the face as he walked, and he wondered if coming to Seven Poplars might have been a mistake. Maybe he should have run farther, gone into the English world and never looked back. He wondered what was keeping him from taking that final step? He was already lost to his own faith. People would never let him forget what had happened back in Belleville.

What was he thinking coming here? Was he going to ruin another woman’s life now? Ruth Yoder was a nice girl, a girl from a strict family and church. She deserved respect. And the best thing he could do for her was to stay away. He should never have gone to the Beachys’ tonight. Better choices.

He wished things could have been different, that he’d made a better choice that night at the bonfire. He wished he’d done the right thing, but now it was too late. There was no going back and no changing what had happened.

The bishops and the preachers said that God was merciful; they preached it every service. They said you could be forgiven any sin if you truly repented, and maybe that was true. But what they didn’t say was how you could forgive yourself.

Chapter Five

The following Monday afternoon, Ruth left Susanna and Anna baking bread to walk to the school. Mam wanted to work on lesson plans after supper, and Ruth had offered to carry her heavy books home for her. It was so rare that Ruth had time alone to think, and it was such a pretty day that she enjoyed having the errand.

Eli Lapp and how to handle him was foremost in her mind. It was clear that he wasn’t going to stop following her around until she made him understand that he was wasting his time with her. She needed to explain that it was nothing against him; she had no plans to marry anyone.

Still, she had to admit that she liked being told she was pretty, and that he was both clever and attractive. Vanity, she feared, was one of her sins. After all the talk about her being an old maid, it was nice that someone liked her, but it had to stop. The trouble was, she didn’t know what she should say to Eli. How could she tell him to quit courting her when he’d said nothing about wanting her for his girlfriend? What if he laughed at her? What if he told her that she had completely misunderstood, and she was the last girl he would consider as a wife?

And then there was the problem of Irwin. The boy had promised Mam that he’d meet her at the schoolhouse on Saturday, but he hadn’t shown up, and she’d had no opportunity to speak to him alone at church. Ruth wondered if Irwin had come to school today and if Mam had been able to question him about the fire.

Eli Lapp hadn’t attended the Sunday services, but that hadn’t kept him from being the center of attention. Hearing the girls giggling about how handsome he was, or the mothers repeating that Eli was just the sort of boy that Preacher Reuben warned them about, was no help.

“Shepherds of our church must be diligent to protect our lambs,” Aunt Martha had warned a group of mothers. “The loose ways of the world threaten our faith.”

Ruth wondered if her father would have agreed with Aunt Martha, or would he have made Eli welcome and tried to turn him back to the Plain ways? Ruth hadn’t done anything wrong in the barn, but if people knew she’d been alone in the buggy in the barn with Eli, her reputation could be tarnished. For all she knew, Irwin was the kind of person to tell tales, and that worried her. It wasn’t necessary to simply avoid wrongdoing, but a Plain person had to avoid the perception of wrongdoing as well.

For an instant, just as Ruth rounded the bend through the trees, she remembered the schoolhouse as she’d seen it the day of the fire, and a knot rose in her throat. So many bad things could have happened. But this time, there was no smoke or the scent of smoke. School was out for the afternoon, but a few of the boys had remained for a game of softball on the grassy field. Samuel Mast’s buggy was there, as well as Roman’s big team and wagon, the horses standing nose to nose at the hitching rail.

When Ruth entered the schoolroom by the temporary steps, she found Roman, Samuel and her mother deep in conversation about the building repairs. Mam was smiling, and it sounded as though she was getting her wish for more room. The hand-drawn plans spread out on the desk enlarged the main area by the size of the original cloakroom and included a new porch with an inside sink and water faucet.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” Mam exclaimed. “We’ll be able to add eight more desks and a new cloakroom.”

“Will it be done in time for the new school year?” Ruth asked, looking over the drawing.

Roman nodded. “With Eli to help, we’ll finish by September.”

“So Eli’s good with his hands,” Samuel observed.

“Ya, he’s a fine craftsman, that boy.”

“You can go on home,” Mam urged, resting her hand on Ruth’s arm. “We’ve still got things to discuss here, but there’s no need for you to wait for me. If you can take the reading books and the big arithmetic book, I can manage the rest.”

Ruth gathered up all the texts, including the oversize cursive writing book, said goodbye, and walked out of the school. She had just started toward the woods when Eli stepped out from behind the shed.

“Don’t pop out at people like that,” she said. Her cheeks felt as warm as if she’d been standing over a kettle of simmering jam. Just being near him scrambled her wits and made her tongue thick, and she was immediately more annoyed with herself than with him. She was a woman grown and should have more sense.

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