A Marriage for Meghan

  HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS

  EUGENE, OREGON

  Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, IL 60189 USA. All rights reserved; and from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Cover by Garborg Design Works, Savage, Minnesota

  Cover photos © Chris Garborg; iStockphoto / ParkerDeen

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  A MARRIAGE FOR MEGHAN

  Copyright © 2011 by Mary Ellis

  Published by Harvest House Publishers

  Eugene, Oregon 97402

  www.harvesthousepublishers.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Ellis, Mary

  A marriage for meghan / Mary Ellis.

  p. cm.—(The Wayne County series ; bk. 2)

  ISBN 978-0-7369-3010-9 (pbk.)

  ISBN 978-0-7369-4165-5 (eBook)

  1. Amish—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3626.E36M37 2011

  813’.6—dc22

  2011010489

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Printed in the United States of America

  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 / LB-NI / 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Discussion Questions

  About the Author

  Love Blooms in Unexpected Places

  Can a Young Amish Widow Find Love?

  What Happens When an Amish Girl’s Prince Charming Is an Englischer?

  Can a Loving Amish Woman Be a Refuge for a Wounded Soul?

  AmishReader.com

  About the Publisher

  For who can know the LORD’s thoughts?

  Who knows enough to give him advice?

  And who has given him so much that he needs to pay it back?

  For everything comes from him and exists by his power and is intended for his glory.

  All glory to him forever!

  Amen.

  ROMANS 11:34-36

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A special thank-you to Matthew Linnscott of the Medina County Sheriff’s Department, who patiently answered my questions about crimes against the Amish and hate crimes in general.

  Thanks to the schoolteachers of Wayne County, and all my own former students who provided a wealth of background information.

  Thanks to Carol Lee Shevlin for welcoming me and providing my home away from home, Simple Pleasures Bed & Breakfast.

  Thanks to Peggy Svoboda for inspired brainstorming.

  Thanks to my agent, Mary Sue Seymour, who had faith in me from the beginning and to my lovely proofreader, Mrs. Joycelyn Sullivan.

  Finally, thanks to my editor, Kim Moore, and the wonderful staff at Harvest House Publishers.

  And thanks be to God—all things in this world are by His hand.

  One

  The day after Christmas

  Meghan Yost gazed out a frosty window on a world rapidly changing from earth brown to pure white.

  “If this snow keeps up, nobody will be going anywhere tomorrow,” said her mamm. With her glasses perched at the tip of her nose, Ruth remained intent on finishing her basket of mending before bedtime.

  “James heard on the radio that the snow should let up by midnight. If I can walk to the Wrights’ to babysit their two little ones, then surely I can reach the schoolhouse. It’s barely a half mile farther,” Meghan replied, rubbing a dry patch in the condensation with her sleeve.

  Gideon Yost released a weary sigh, indicative of a hundred-year-old man rather than a middle-aged husband, father, and bishop of their Old Order district. “Stop smearing up that glass and tell me what is so wrong with working for the Wright family.” He closed his well-worn Bible in his lap to concentrate on the matter at hand. “They’re nice enough folks for Englischers.”

  “Nothing at all, daed.” Meghan stared out into the growing darkness.

  “They pay you well, they give you most Saturdays off, and they would never ask you to work on the Lord’s Day. Plus they let you snack on all the junk food and soda pop you want.”

  Her mother clucked her tongue with disapproval. “I can’t believe you haven’t fattened up like a brood sow, considering the things I see in Jennifer Wright’s shopping cart at the IGA.”

  “I eat enough pickled cauliflower and smoked turkey breast at home to offset the sweets eaten over there.” Meghan perched a hand on one of her still bony hips. “I have a ways to go before someone thinks of taking me to the market.”

  Gideon rose to his feet to stoke the wood stove. “Please don’t change the subject, fraa. I want Meghan to put aside these foolish notions and be grateful for the good position she already has.”

  “Foolish notions?” Meghan’s tone lifted with unusual pique. “I have wanted to become a schoolteacher since I was a kinner myself. And I have told you that many times before. Now that Mrs. Kauffman has found herself in a family way, the perfect opportunity has opened up.” She abandoned her vigil by the window as the snowfall increased to near blizzard conditions.

  “Don’t speak of such things in mixed company, daughter,” scolded mamm as her face blushed to a shade of bright pink.

  Meghan chuckled inwardly. Speaking about on-the-way babies in front of daed had embarrassed her mamm, despite her having borne five of her own. “Beg your pardon,” Meghan murmured.

  “I hardly would describe this as the ‘perfect opportunity.’ You’re too young to handle a roomful of boisterous youngsters.” Gideon added more split wood, closed the door, and slowly straightened. “Joanna Kauffman’s husband has mentioned more than once that the students are a handful this year. Two-thirds of them are male instead of an even fifty-fifty split as one would expect.”

  Meghan laughed with abandon. “I’m not afraid of a few little boys. Look how I’ve managed to wrap James and John around my finger.”

  “Bruders are a different matter altogether. I’m sure the district can find someone else to finish out this school year. Then we’ll have all next summer to find a permanent replacement—perhaps a gal who has resigned herself to spinsterhood and would welcome a steady income. We would have to replace you, daughter, before we knew it.”

  Meghan sighed. Sometimes her father’s assumptions were exasperatingly old-fashioned, even for someone Amish. “What makes you think I won’t remain single?”

  The bishop laughed as he settled back into his vinyl recliner. “Because I’ve noticed the way Jacob Shultz stares at you at every preaching service. I doubt it will be long before you two are officially courting. After all, you are nineteen already, soon to be twenty.”

  Meghan shook her head at his logic. “Let me see if I follow this. I’m too young to teach school but not too young to get married? I happen to know that Joanna Kauffman took over that classroo
m when she was only eighteen years old—almost two years younger than me.”

  “Joanna has a completely different temperament than you, daughter. We can’t compare apples to oranges.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but Ruth held up two hands like a crossing guard stopping both lanes of traffic. “Hold on, Meghan. Why don’t you go outside to see if James needs help getting the cows into the barn for the night? We don’t want them out if this snow continues. Let me talk to your daed alone for a while.”

  Her mother smiled so sweetly that Meghan could do nothing but head to the back hall for her coat and boots. She should know better than to argue with her father. Her older sister, Catherine, was an expert with rationalization, which allowed her to at least state her case. Her eldest sister, Abigail, with a sharp intellect and gentle words, had the most success in getting her own way. But Meghan’s tendency to act first and think later or to simply beg in a whiny voice seldom changed anyone’s mind.

  Pulling on her heavy wool bonnet, she picked up the battery lantern near the door and slipped outside. Despite the heavy snowfall, no sharp wind or piercing air quickened her pace toward the barn. In fact, she ambled along as though it were a balmy summer afternoon and sent up a silent prayer that her father would relent. Becoming a teacher had been her one true ambition since leaving school at age fourteen. Although she enjoyed working as a nanny, she yearned for her own classroom filled with bright shining faces, eager to learn. She hoped her mamm could convince her father that she would be perfect for the job.

  “Why not give the girl a chance?” asked Ruth, once she heard the kitchen door close. “Have you ever met anyone with more love and enthusiasm for children than Meghan?” She resumed darning a very large hole in a sock heel.

  Gideon snorted, folding his newspaper in half. This would not be a good night to catch up with his reading. “She loves being with children because she still thinks and acts like one most of the time. Have you forgotten some of the stunts she pulled as a student?”

  Ruth peered over her half-moon glasses. “Have you heard complaints from the Wrights? Has she been unreliable or somehow irresponsible with their little ones?”

  “No, no. They are safe and well tended in her care. But it might be nice if she helped Mrs. Wright with some of the housework while the kinner play. Instead, whether they are swimming, swinging, or running the length of the meadow, Meghan joins in the fun.” He rubbed his shoulder, trying to alleviate the crick in his neck. “I overheard Meghan tell a friend that she doesn’t usually wash the lunch dishes until she hears Mrs. Wright’s car pull into the driveway after work.”

  “Ach, Gideon. Our youngest has a carefree heart. Soon enough she’ll be old and arthritic like us. Let her enjoy herself now.”

  “Fine, but that’s why she should stay working where she is until marriage.” He struggled to his feet, the choice an easy one as far as he was concerned.

  Ruth shook her head. “Meghan has never wanted anything more than she wants this. And she has wonderful patience with little ones.”

  “She’s disorganized, easily distracted, and usually late wherever she goes.”

  “I can’t argue with that, but everyone deserves a chance. She might just rise to the occasion and surprise us. You especially.” She narrowed her gaze at him.

  “As the district bishop, it will reflect on my decision making if she does poorly.” He scrubbed his face with his palms as though waking from a bad dream. “What if teaching doesn’t work out for Meghan, but in the meantime the Wright family finds a new nanny? She’ll have nothing to fall back on.”

  “Goodness, ehemann, didn’t you ever take a chance when you were young? Anyway, I believe she has already given Mrs. Wright her two-week notice, never anticipating the bishop, her own daed, would deny her the opportunity to fulfill a dream.”

  “That was impetuous—my point exactly. She never thinks things through. And I can’t show my daughter special favors. It wouldn’t be fair to the other women of the district.”

  “Has someone else stepped forward as a candidate for the position?”

  Gideon’s face clouded over like the night sky beyond the window. “No, no one has, but I sent word to all the surrounding communities.”

  “Why not let Meghan try? Joanna agreed to stay another week to train her replacement. What would it hurt?”

  “A week isn’t long enough to impart the necessary maturity to handle a classroom of impressionable minds.” He began pacing the room.

  Suddenly, Ruth straightened in the chair, a smile turning up one corner of her mouth. “What about Catherine? She’s twenty-three and has a very level head on her shoulders. Isaiah will be away at that school for the deaf for at least a year. Surely Abigail and Daniel can handle improvements to his cabin without Catherine being there. She can come back home.”

  The bishop pulled on his snow-white beard, perplexed. “What good would that do?”

  “Why don’t you suggest to the school board that they appoint Catherine as head teacher and Meghan as her assistant. You know that Catherine can handle the children, and Meghan can learn the necessary skills during the remaining term.” Ruth smiled rather smugly as she returned to the sock.

  “That’s a good idea. It could actually work, as long as Catherine is willing.”

  “I’ll write to her tonight so that the letter gets to the Graber farm soon.”

  Gideon stopped pacing and walked to his wife’s chair. He leaned down and brushed a kiss across her kapp. “I’ll leave convincing Catherine up to you, fraa, as well as breaking the news to our youngest daughter. Who knows how Meghan will react to taking an assistant’s position?” He ambled toward the stairs.

  “Where on earth are you going? It’s barely eight thirty.”

  “To bed. I’ll need my rest if Catherine is moving back home and those two start working together.”

  Ruth pondered his wisdom as she finished the sock. Recognizing sound advice when she heard it, she soon set her sewing basket aside and followed him up the steps. Besides, she had one persuasive letter to compose before climbing into bed.

  Meghan thought she heard her name but burrowed her head deeper beneath the pillow. She hoped to return to the pleasant dream of floating on her back in the pond on a hot summer day. It was cozy beneath the double quilt with the shades drawn against nighttime chills or an intrusive morning sun. Suddenly, she remembered today was the first day of her new job and bolted upright in bed. Springing into action, she collected her clothes and headed toward the upstairs bathroom, only to find it occupied by one of her brothers. She would have to take a sponge bath in the downstairs tub, although a quick shower would have chased away the morning cobwebs.

  In the kitchen her mother handed her a cup of coffee. “Guder mariye.”

  “Good morning to you, mamm. I must get ready fast. Why did you let me sleep so late?” Meghan sipped the coffee black.

  “I called you three times, but, as usual, you turned over and went back to sleep. You need to set your alarm clock and get up when it buzzes. That’s part of being a professional teacher.” Ruth poured cornflakes into a bowl.

  “That’s true, but today I don’t have time to eat.” Meghan carried her coffee and clothes into the bathroom. Her mother was right. Self-discipline was the mark of a good teacher and a worthy trait to teach her students. Her students. Already they seemed like hers, even though Joanna would still be around for a little while. And due to her father’s insistence, Catherine was moving home to help in the classroom. But Megan was sure she would only need her sister for a couple of weeks. After all, Catherine had a cabin addition to oversee and a wedding to plan back at Abby’s. Then she would be in charge—a teacher at last!

  Didn’t the two little Wright children smile each day when she showed up to work? Didn’t their mother describe her as a natural with kids? Soon she would make her parents proud and herself content, because no calling was nobler than teaching young scholars skills that would serve them a lifetime.

>   For now, Meghan concentrated on getting ready for work. After bathing with mostly cold water—thanks to her brothers—she downed a second cup of coffee and hurried out the door, nearly forgetting her scarf and hat. Because she didn’t know the current teacher very well, she hadn’t a clue as to what supplies to bring, but she assumed a positive attitude would be all an apprentice would need for a while.

  Halfway down their driveway, her upbeat mood faltered when she slipped on an icy patch and fell on her backside. Unfortunately, the ground hadn’t frozen solid yet. By the time she scrambled to her feet, her skirt was both damp and muddy. For a moment she considered returning to the house to change, but then she decided against the idea. A tardy arrival would make a poor first impression. Anyway, her skirt would probably dry before she reached the school.

  Just as Meghan passed the neighbors’ house, her former employer stepped onto the front porch. “Meghan! I’m so glad to see you. The woman I hired to replace you has a dead battery. At least, her car does,” Mrs. Wright added with a laugh. “I don’t dare call in sick because our department is already shorthanded.” The woman’s voice carried in the crisp air as though she used a megaphone.

  Dread churned Meghan’s stomach along with the black coffee as she turned to face her. “I can’t babysit today, Mrs. Wright. I’m training at the schoolhouse. The teacher is expecting me.”

  “Oh, dear. Who can I get to watch my children?” A look of panic was etched in the woman’s features.

  Meghan dug her hands into her coat pockets and glanced longingly up the road. “I’m sure my mamm will help out. Are they dressed and ready to go? I’ll walk them home so you can leave for work.” She ran full speed up the Wrights’ driveway before she could change her mind.

  “Oh, bless you, child. They’ll be ready in a jiffy.” True to her word, Mrs. Wright bundled her two little ones up and packed a bag of toys and snacks quickly.

  By the time Meghan walked with them the half mile home, explained the situation to her mother, and restarted for school in the same muddy skirt, she’d lost more than half an hour. But at least the snow had stopped, and the sun reflected beautifully off the fields and rolling hills.