Her Amish Holiday Suitor. Carrie Lighte
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gulped audibly. “You want to kumme with me while I work on the cabin?”
Lucy couldn’t do that. The sawdust would cause her allergies to act up. “Neh. You can drop me off at the library and then pick me up when you’re finished. That way, if anyone asks where we went—which they shouldn’t, but that won’t necessarily stop them—I can truthfully say you took me for a ride and we stopped at the library.”
Nick hesitantly conceded, adding, “I always knew you were a bookworm but I didn’t realize you like to read quite that much. I’ll be gone for a couple of hours each evening, you know.”
Lucy was surprised Nick knew she liked to read—their paths hardly crossed since they had been scholars in the town’s two-room schoolhouse. She’d chatted with him a few times when her cousin Bridget still lived in Willow Creek and was walking out with him, but that was almost three years ago. For some reason it annoyed Lucy that Nick called her a bookworm, the same term her stepmother used to describe her.
“It’s true I like to read. Reading allows me to learn about new ideas and places. But that’s not why I want you to drop me off at the library,” she said. “I have a special embroidery project I need to finish by December 21 and the library is a quiet place to do that.” Then, to make it clear she was as disinterested in being courted by him as he was in becoming her suitor, she said, “That’s the only reason I agreed to this arrangement. Otherwise, Betty and my sisters would pressure me into attending all the upcoming Grischtdaag social events and I’d never finish my project on time.”
“Oh, so that’s why you were embroidering at the singing,” Nick replied. “I just thought you were too stuck—”
Nick cut his sentence short but Lucy knew what he was going to say. He was going to call her stuck-up. She wasn’t unaware some young men thought that about her, but she’d never been told it outright. Why the meed in Willow Creek thought Nick Burkholder was such a catch, she’d never know, but Lucy wasn’t impressed by his manners.
Changing topics, she asked, “How long will it take to make the repairs?”
“I should be done in a week. Ten days, at most.”
Lucy was actually hoping it would take longer than that, but she’d just have to make the most of her time away from the house. “And then what will we tell people?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll agree to pretend we’re walking out together until your repairs are finished, but not any longer than that. It would be nosy for someone to ask us why we’ve broken up, but in case they do, it’s a gut idea to have a credible answer ready. After all, two weeks is an awfully short time for a courtship, even for you,” she said, not mincing words.
Nick puffed loudly, as if exasperated. “I suppose we’ll just say it didn’t work out.”
“Ha,” Lucy uttered. “If you think that answer will satisfy my sisters’ curiosity, you don’t know how persistent they can be.”
“Then what do you propose we say instead?”
Lucy was quiet. How would she know what to say? She’d never been in a real courtship, much less a phony one. “I guess we’ll have to cross that bridge when we kumme to it.”
“Yeah, all right.” Nick urged his horse into a quicker trot, as if he couldn’t wait to get to Lucy’s house to drop her off.
She had often heard Mildred and Katura nattering on about Nick’s expensive racehorse, and the animal was certainly living up to its reputation. Because it was an open-seat buggy, Lucy felt the wind biting at her cheeks as they cruised along the country roads, but she didn’t mind. Despite the horse’s speed, the carriage wasn’t bouncing about. Lucy might not have had many conversations with men her age, but she’d read enough articles in The Budget to know Nick probably tinkered with the suspension of his buggy springs, which was a popular trend among Amish young people. In any case, she felt surprisingly invigorated by the quick trip home.
When they pulled up her lane, she noticed lamplight in the window. Her father would have been in bed since he worked the early shift the next day, but Betty was probably still awake. Because the step down from the carriage was higher than Lucy was used to and she had to hold on to her tote bag, she allowed Nick to assist her. Even though they were both wearing gloves, her hand warmed from the pressure of his fingers but the sensation was fleeting because he let go as soon as her feet touched the ground. Then he began walking with her to the door.
“Why are you following me?” she asked, afraid he’d want to be invited in. If Betty got one glimpse of how uncomfortable Lucy was around Nick, their cover would be blown.
“I’m not following you. I’m walking you to the door. You know, like I’d do if I were actually courting you,” Nick explained.
Lucy’s cheeks stung. Since she’d never been courted before she didn’t know whether all suitors walked their girlfriends to their doors or if this was part of Nick’s supposed charm.
When they reached her back porch, he loudly announced, “So I’ll pick you up at six o’clock on Tuesday night, okay?”
She put her finger to her lips. “Shh! My stepmother might hear you.”
Nick leaned in and whispered, “Jah, that’s the general intention, right?” He was close enough she could smell a hint of mint chocolate cocoa on his breath and she quickly skittered up the stairs.
“Gut nacht,” she said over her shoulder before turning the knob to the door.
Inside Betty was sipping tea at the table and reading The Budget. “Hi, Lucy. I thought I heard a buggy. Are the girls stabling the horse?”
“Neh, they’re still at the singing,” Lucy answered ambiguously, avoiding meeting Betty’s eyes as she removed her gloves, unwrapped her cloak and hung it on a peg by the door. She bent to unlace her boots.
“Oh? Then who brought you home?”
“Nick Burkholder,” Lucy reported in what she hoped was an offhanded manner.
“Nick Burkholder?” her stepmother marveled. “Why would he bring you home? Are you sick?”
Like mamm, like dechder. Lucy was miffed Betty made the same assumption Mildred made about why Nick would bring her home. Lifting her chin she said, “Neh, I’m not sick. I’m going upstairs to bed now. Gut nacht.”
Lucy scurried down the hall before her stepmother could ask any more questions. The upstairs room she shared with her sisters stretched the entire length of their Cape-style home. Mildred and Katura’s beds and dressers took up most of the open space, whereas Lucy’s dresser and bed were tightly tucked in the back section of the room beneath the sloping roof. Because Lucy was so short, she never bumped her head on it and she liked the roof being so close to her bed. During storms, she could hear raindrops pattering the wood and she felt as if she were sleeping in an ark.
She turned on the gas lamp, sat on her bed and removed her embroidery hoop from the canvas bag. As she began unpicking her earlier mistakes, her hands trembled. She tried to tell herself it was because she’d dashed up the stairs too quickly, but she knew that wasn’t it. She was breathless and quivering because Betty and her stepsisters had found it preposterous that Nick would bring her home. But what right did she have to be angry? They were correct: it was inconceivable he’d want to court her.
Yet, when she recalled his strong hands embracing her waist, the notion of a courtship didn’t seem so terribly far-fetched. At least, not from her perspective. She tried to focus on restitching a delicate snowflake in the center of the napkin, but her mind kept wandering back to Nick, and after pricking her finger three times she finally gave up and went to bed.
Nick was relieved.