Courting Ruth. Emma Miller
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