Their Pretend Amish Courtship. Patricia Davids
together with the rest of Noah’s family. Had Noah’s mother told them all that she and Noah were dating?
She forced a bright smile for Noah. “I’d love the chance to beat Noah at any game of his choosing.”
Joshua laughed. “Well, don’t pick baseball. Did he tell you he pitched a no-hitter yesterday? Against the league champions from last year. Everyone at the fire station thinks this year’s trophy will look awesome on our wall. The boy has an amazing arm.”
Fannie was surprised when Joshua winked at her, too. “I’m glad he’s finally showing some sense in his personal life.”
She wanted to sink into the ground.
Joshua left when he heard the sound of his wife’s voice calling him, but Noah lingered.
Fannie’s temper cooled rapidly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. We seem to be trapped by our little deception. Do we tell them now or let them down gradually?”
“Gradually, I guess. We started this so we might as well finish it. The next time I have a brilliant idea, don’t listen to me.”
“I won’t.”
She stared at her feet for a long moment. “A no-hitter. Wow, that’s quite an accomplishment.”
“It was due more to great fielding by the team than my pitching. Gott smiled on us.”
She was glad to hear him giving credit to others and to God. The awkward silence grew between them. Finally, she said, “I do need to find my sister.”
“Sure. See you later at the horseshoe pit.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t think I’ll take it easy on you,” he said as he walked away.
“The thought never crossed my mind, but you’d better not.”
A small grin curved his lips. There was a distinct twinkle in his eyes. “You won’t knock me in the head with a horseshoe, will you?”
“I have already promised to stop throwing things at you.”
“Goot. I’ll hold you to that.” His grin turned to a wide smile just before he rounded the corner.
Fannie leaned back against the wall of the house as a funny feeling settled in the center of her stomach. He sure was an attractive fellow when he smiled.
She shook her head at her own foolishness. “I’m not going to fall for him. This was definitely my worst idea yet.”
It would be difficult to guard her emotions if she had to spend much time in his company. If he was being nice to her, she wasn’t sure she could do it.
“I’m glad that’s over with.” Noah held out his hand to help Fannie into his open buggy after the singing that evening.
“So am I.” Fannie ignored his hand and climbed in by herself. “Did you see everyone staring at me when I first came in? I almost turned and ran.”
“Now that you mention it, I can’t think of the last time I saw you at a young people’s gathering.”
“They’re a waste of time if you aren’t shopping for a potential spouse.”
“Not everyone is looking to marry. A lot of us just want to have fun.”
“The boys are there for fun. The girls are all looking for someone to marry. I noticed plenty of them eyeing you. Especially the bishop’s visiting nieces. In the future, could you at least act as if you are interested in me?”
“Maybe I’m not that good of an actor,” he snapped.
“Work on it or this will be pointless.” She scooted as far away from him as she could get without falling out the other side of his buggy.
She was right to rebuke him. He had neglected her, but a group of his friends had wanted to talk baseball. He got caught up in the conversation until it was almost time to go home. That’s when he noticed Fannie sitting beside her sister and her sister’s beau, and recalled why she was there. He’d spent the last half hour sitting beside Fannie but mostly talking to Hiram as Fannie fumed. He knew the buggy ride home was going to be a rough one.
Deciding he should smooth the troubled waters with a compliment or two, he climbed in beside her. “I noticed during the singing tonight that Gott has given you a fine voice.”
“Danki. You have a pleasant voice, too.” She stared straight ahead with her arms clasped tight across her middle. Was she nervous? It wasn’t as if it was a real date.
“You don’t have to hang off the side. I don’t bite.”
“I do,” she quipped, but she relented and inched a little closer.
“Do you want to drive?” He offered her the reins.
She looked at him then. “Why?”
“I’m just asking. I know you’re almost as good a driver as I am.”
She sat up straight and planted her hands on her hips. “Almost as good?”
He flinched at her offended tone. That had been the wrong choice of words. So much for smoother waters. “Do you want to drive or not?”
“All right.” She accepted the reins and neatly turned Willy to head out of John Miller’s yard. It was after ten o’clock, and the other couples and singles were already gone.
Noah propped his feet on the dash rail and crossed his hands behind his head. “Willy has a tendency to drift to the left.”
“I see that.” She corrected the horse’s line and stopped him at the highway, where John Miller’s lane intersected it at the top of a steep hill. When she was sure the way was clear, she eased Willy out onto the blacktop.
At the bottom of the hill, a hundred yards away, the road ended in a T. Beyond the roadway the tree-lined river slipped silently through the farmland. Fannie turned Willy onto the road that skirted the riverbank. Breaks in the trees occasionally gave Noah a glimpse of moonlight rippling on the water’s surface.
He studied Fannie’s face as she sat beside him. A soft wind fluttered the ribbons of her kapp and tugged at the curls she tried so hard to confine. She held the reins with confidence, as he knew she would. He’d seen her helping her father train horses to pull buggies since she was knee-high. “Nice night for a drive.”
“I reckon. Driving at night makes me nervous.”
So the unflappable Fannie had a weakness. “Why?”
“I’m always afraid a car will come up behind me too fast and run into me.”
“It happens. We can’t know when Gott will test our faith with such a trial. Do you want me to take over?”
“Nee. I must overcome this fear.”
He worried about the tremor in her voice. She really was scared—but determined. “What do you think of Willy?” he asked, to take her mind off her apprehension.
“He’s a sweet goer. Nice smooth gait. A high stepper but not absurdly high. He has a soft mouth and responds to a light touch on the reins. He’s a goot gaul.”
“And you said I wouldn’t know a good horse if I tripped over one.”
She sent him a sidelong glance, but seemed to consider her words for a change. “Sometimes my mouth says things before my brain can stop it. Forgive me.”
An olive branch? He gladly accepted it. “You are forgiven. I’ve been known to speak rashly, too.”
“Sadly, that seems to be all we