The Amish Groom (The Men of Lancaster County #1)

“You are to be obedient.”


Another span of seconds passed. I let my gaze travel around the shop, taking in the familiar tools and products of the trade. Over near the window, the late afternoon sunshine splayed across the sewing area, where the upholstery was made. Beyond that, in the painting bay, sat the half shell of a new spring wagon, ready for its electrical work to be started as soon as the final coat was dry.

I sucked in a deep breath, relishing the buggy shop’s familiar scent of oil and paint and new fabric and metal and fresh-cut wood. The work here could be tedious at times, but I loved it just the same. Why would I ever want to turn my back on this?

Then it came to me. What if God was just testing me? What if He was allowing me to feel the lure of the world outside so that I could firmly renounce it? What if I had only to state my intentions, fulfill the class requirements, bow my head in baptism, and make my vows to prove I could forsake that which I had been born into?

My heart raced. If that were the case, then maybe I really could silence forever this beckoning voice that confused me. I could train myself to see only the Amish Tyler when I gazed into the pond. I could marry Rachel and be done with wondering.

If this was a test, I was ready to pass it.

Eyes wide, I turned to Daadi and spoke, surprising both myself and him with the urgency in my tone. “I want to be obedient. I want to become a member.”

Daadi nodded slowly, but his mind was far away.

“Did you hear what I said, Daadi? I want to become a member.”

My grandfather placed a hand on my arm. “I heard you, Tyler,” he said, his voice heavy. “We shall pray about this. And I will speak to the bishop.”

I couldn’t believe it. Here I was finally saying the words he’d longed for, and he was putting me off?

“You don’t think I should take my vows?” My voice sounded harsh, demanding, even in my own ears.

He was quiet for a long moment.

“Vows are never for the purpose of silencing what you don’t want to hear.” He stood, moved slowly to the tool rack, and set the wrench in its place. “But I will pray. And I will consult the bishop.”

With that, he turned and walked out of the shop, leaving me alone with my thoughts, even more confused now than I had been before.





SIX


The days following were strange for me. Morning chores without Jake took longer, and his empty place beside me in the buggy shop was keenly felt. Worse, more than once I caught my grandparents staring at me in concern when they thought I wouldn’t notice.

Daadi had obviously confided in Mammi about our conversation because I could see that she knew and it was bothering her. The fact that he’d shared it with her didn’t surprise or annoy me. I wanted her to know, but I also didn’t want her to worry. And it was obvious to me she was worried, even though she never brought it up.

At least I was doing this honorably, I told myself, thinking of how my mother had simply packed her things and left in the dark of night without a word to anyone. I didn’t remember her being unkind or uncaring. I felt certain she left the way she did because she didn’t want a tearful scene peppered by harsh words everyone would regret having said. Such a departure would have been easier for me too, but I refused to repeat the past that way.

It wasn’t just that I knew well the pain such an action would cause. It was also a matter of age and maturity. I was in my twenties, but at the time my mother left the farm for Philadelphia, she’d been all of eighteen and far less experienced with the world than I. She did not have another home and family on the outside where she could visit each summer and try the Englisch life on for size.

My aunt Sarah had been closer to my mother than anyone, and I had asked her once why she thought my mother left. I was twelve and wanting to know more than the little my grandparents had told me, but I hadn’t felt comfortable asking them about it.

“I’ve never understood why,” Sarah had responded, and it was obvious not knowing still pained her. “Perhaps she just wanted things the Amish life didn’t give her. Fancy things. She liked the city and dancing and television and movies and riding in cars. I guess it reached the point where the Plain life just wasn’t enough for her.”

“Enough for her,” I echoed.

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