Matched and married, p.1
Matched and Married, page 1
Dedication
To James. I love you.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Family Tree
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Discussion Questions
Acknowledgments
Glossary
About the Author
An Excerpt from Hooked On You Chapter 1
Acclaim for Kathleen Fuller
Other Books by Kathleen Fuller
Copyright
Family Tree
Chapter 1
Salt Creek, Ohio
Forbidden . . .
The word repeated in her mind, but it didn’t stop Margaret Yoder from placing a pair of faded skinny jeans on the bed in front of her. The jeans joined a red crop top and a light sweater in bright pink along with a makeup bag filled with lipstick, eye shadow, and mascara. Four-inch-high wedge sandals were on the floor. All looked out of place in her simply furnished room, the prohibited clothing clashing with the faded quilt on her twin bed.
She touched one of the clips on her kapp. All she had to do was remove it and her English transformation would start. And once it started, she knew from experience it wouldn’t stop. But this time, changing out of her Amish clothes and into her English clothes would not only be forbidden by the Ordnung, but also considered a broken promise to God. In spite of knowing that, she was still tempted.
She glanced at the battery-operated alarm clock on her bedside table. It was almost 8:00 p.m. If she was going to break that promise, she needed to do it now. Still, she hesitated. This wasn’t the first time she’d broken her vow, and she was still paying the consequences of that terrible choice. Why can’t I learn my lesson?
If she had, she would have run away earlier that afternoon when a crimson-red sedan screeched to a stop in front of her parents’ driveway, nearly scaring her out of her skin. The passenger window rolled down, and a young woman in her early twenties leaned out the window. “Hey, girl!” she drawled.
Margaret recognized her right away. “Hi, Alexis,” she said, dread filling her.
Dylan, Alexis’s cousin, peered around her from the driver’s seat. “Been a long time, Maggie.”
Not long enough. Margaret had looked around, glad that her father was out in the field cutting hay with her three brothers-in-law, while her mother and sisters were inside baking pies for tomorrow’s church service they were hosting. She dashed to the car but didn’t get too close, as if being near the vehicle would pull her into the vortex of her former life.
“There’s a party at Jessica’s tonight,” Alexis said. “You should come with us. We can pick you up at the usual spot.”
“I don’t do that anymore,” Margaret said, lowering her voice and hoping none of her nosy neighbors were watching this exchange. “I thought everyone knew that.” Everyone meaning the English friends she used to have during her rumspringa, which had ended a little more than a year ago, when she joined the church right before visiting her aunt and uncle in Birch Creek.
“We figured you might change your mind.” Alexis lit a cigarette with a bright-pink lighter. She blew a smoke circle in Margaret’s direction. “Like you did before.”
Dread turned to nausea as she waved off the smoke, remembering the days when she and Alexis would see who could make a flawless smoke ring. Picking up smoking, even though she’d only smoked around her English friends, was another regret among many. Enough to last a lifetime.
Dylan leaned over the steering wheel and leered at her. “I’m digging the Little House on the Prairie look, Maggie. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so . . . covered.” He gave her a knowing wink.
Margaret recoiled, her cheeks blazing as she remembered one particular party where she and Dylan had gotten close. Too close. But as usual when she saw him, her heart leapt a little. He was still handsome with thick blond hair, caramel-colored eyes, and muscles that didn’t quit. She’d always been gullible when it came to good-looking men, and she was the only Amish woman she knew who thought English men were better looking than most of the Amish ones. Dylan was particularly gorgeous and well built, and despite herself, she was still attracted to him. But it was a shallow attraction. The personality underneath his sublime surface was revolting. I must remember who he really is.
She stepped away from the car. “I’m not interested.” Hopefully, he would realize she wasn’t just talking about going to a party.
Alexis leaned farther out the window, the tight-fitting tank top she wore barely covering what it was supposed to. “Are you sure you don’t want to go? Remember all the fun we used to have?”
The uneasiness in the pit of Margaret’s stomach grew. That was the problem. She did remember—in vivid detail—everything she had done during her rumspringa, and it filled her with shame.
At first, she vowed not to go crazy like some of her peers had when they reached sixteen—the usual age of permitted freedom. But it hadn’t taken long for her to succumb. Finally, she made her decision, determined to be a meek Amish woman like her mother and three older sisters. Like her mamm had always wanted her to be.
Yet she had to admit that a small part of her still missed the English world. At least parts of it. Attending parties had been an opportunity to be with the friends she’d made during her time in that world. There were good times when she snuck out for sleepovers with those friends. They’d have long talks in the middle of the night while they consumed junk food and had the TV on in the background. They mostly talked about boys and sometimes about the future, which Margaret had always been unsure about. She never brought up with anyone her hesitation to join the Amish church, especially the party girls she hung out with.
“Just think about it,” Alexis begged. “Please?”
Against her better judgment, Margaret nodded once. She told herself she agreed so they would leave, but she was already thinking about the many times she used to sneak out of the house. She was an expert at it, and until that day eleven months ago, her parents and the rest of the community had never known that she was an excellent escape artist. After the humiliation of confessing and asking forgiveness in front of the church for rebelling, she vowed she would never rebel again. But here she was, thinking about doing exactly that.
“Awesome.” Dylan grinned as he sat back in his seat and shifted the car into drive. “We’ll pick you up at the usual spot around nine.” Before Margaret could respond, he and Alexis sped off.
Now she stood in her bedroom several hours later, seriously tempted to betray her vow to the church and her own personal promise. Again. After three years of living with one foot in the English world and one foot in her Amish community—and due in no small part to her parents’ strong encouragement—she had finally decided to join the church. And for the most part she hadn’t regretted that decision. During her rumspringa she was far from God, and being a part of the church had drawn her closer to him. Yet she also couldn’t deny that, at times, the English world still pulled at her.
Margaret looked at the letter lying next to the English outfit. She knew the contents, having read them as soon as Alexis and Dylan left. If the outfit represented her past, the letter symbolized her present.
Dear Margaret,
Thank you so much for the lovely pressed flower picture you sent me. I have it displayed in my bedroom on the dresser. The yellow, blue, and pink wildflowers are so beautiful, and the frame is remarkably simple and pretty. It looks like something I would buy in a store!
Doris said that she told you about the mail-order bride advertisement that someone from our community put in the paper. We still don’t know who put in the ad, but it certainly has had some repercussions. Some good—we’ve had one double wedding already. Do you remember the Bontrager family, the one with all the boys? The oldest twins got married. Then their oldest son also married, but not to a woman in Birch Creek. The downside is that now we have an overabundance of single females! That isn’t all due to the advertisement, though. We’ve had four more families move to Birch Creek since you last visited, all who had mostly daughters. Of course, we still have a few bachelors left, but the tables have certainly turned.
I hope someday we’ll find out who put the ad in the paper. Of course, the two main suspects are Cevilla and Delilah, our local matchmakers, although no one will mention it within their hearing. But they seemed as puzzled as the rest of us, so they might not be involved. It would be nice to know the truth, but the culprit might always be a mystery.
I hope you’re doing well. Know that you’re always welcome for another visit. I miss you—it was nice to have another woman in the house now that Karen and Ivy are married and settled in with their own families. Feel free to come to Birch Creek anytime. You can stay as long as you like!
Love,
Aenti Mary
Margaret already knew about the ad her aunt mentioned. Her mother had shown it to her almost two months ago: “Looking for marriage, ladies? Single Amish men available in Birch Creek, Ohio.” The advertisement, which was so small and had been crammed in the corner of a local
Like that would ever happen. She enjoyed the time she spent in Birch Creek, and not just because she liked being with Aenti Mary. She had also made friends with Nina Stoll, now Nina Yoder since she had married Mary’s son, Ira. Her visit to the community happened before the advertisement hit the paper, and she’d seen firsthand that the single men far outnumbered the single women, with her being the only single woman in town. She had to admit she enjoyed the attention of the young men, even if it was limited to one singing at her uncle’s house and a few flirtatious conversations after church. She hadn’t seen anyone who piqued her interest, and when she returned to Salt Creek, she hadn’t given any of the Birch Creek men a second thought.
But from almost the moment Margaret was baptized, her mother had been dropping hints as big as anvils that she needed to get married like her three older sisters, June, Ruth, and Wanda. She’d mentioned it just this morning, as Margaret helped her and her sisters prepare the pie shells for baking. “Marriage is the best thing for you,” Mamm said with an emphatic nod. “You’re at the right age to get married.” As usual, her sisters backed up their mother’s words with looks of silent approval. All four were a united front and had been since Margaret could remember. And of course, all three of them were married by the time they were twenty—the same age Margaret was now.
But it was what they left unsaid that stuck in Margaret’s craw. Marriage would make her an acceptable member of the community and redeem some of the embarrassment her family had experienced due to Margaret’s latest indiscretion. Better yet, she would become someone else’s problem.
She clenched her fists and shifted her gaze to her English outfit. If her family thought she was so imperfect and such a failure, she might as well prove them right.
Nee. She gave her head a hard shake. She didn’t join the church because of her family—she joined because she wanted to be Amish. As much as she would like to forget about the pressure she felt from her family to be as perfect as possible, doing something against the Ordnung, and her own personal principles, wasn’t the way to do that. Going back to her English life, even for one night, wasn’t an option anymore.
Quickly she grabbed the illicit clothing and placed it in a flat plastic bin under her single bed, shoving the box to the very back until she heard the plastic hit the wall. She had to get rid of the clothing, but only when she was sure Mamm and Daed wouldn’t catch her. If they did, that would open up another can of worms that she wouldn’t be able to put back. Until she could throw out the clothing unhindered, it would stay under the bed.
She sat on the edge of her mattress, stunned by how close she had come to making another huge mistake. Her shoulders slumped. She thought God had changed the rebellious part of her heart. And maybe since she’d ultimately changed her mind, she had indeed made a little progress. Very little, but she would take what she could get.
Margaret stood and started to pace, biting her fingernail. She’d made the right decision, but she still had problems to deal with. Being at odds with her mother all the time, for one. That wasn’t going to change anytime soon. She was still the black sheep of her family too. Mamm had never pressured Margaret’s sisters to get married. In fact, she cried at every single one of their weddings. Margaret reckoned her mother would squeal with joy once Margaret finally tied the knot.
Then there was the problem of Alexis and Dylan. She couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t show up at her house again, and she could only hope they wouldn’t come any closer than their usual meeting spot down the road when they came to pick up her tonight. She wouldn’t be there, and she figured their desire to party would keep them from waiting too long. Dylan’s leering had made her uncomfortable, and she knew from experience that he was a man who always got what he wanted. Alexis asked her to join them, but she could see Dylan showing up alone next time. Would she be able to resist him if he did? She wasn’t so sure.
She shuddered and picked up her aunt’s letter. A thought occurred to her. She did miss her aunt and uncle and cousins, and she would love to see Nina again. Maybe I do have an escape.
Decision made, she went downstairs and found Mamm and Daed in the living room. Her father had his feet up on an old tufted stool that had been in the family for two generations, his hands folded over his stomach as he softly snored. Mamm was sitting in her chair near the gas-powered lamp, darning a pair of his socks. When Margaret entered the room, her mother lifted her gaze and peered over her reading glasses. “Shh,” she said, gesturing to Daed with a lift of her finger. “He’s sleeping.”
Margaret nodded and walked over to Mamm. She sat down on the floor at her mother’s feet and looked up at her. She’d been told over the years how much she favored her mother in every way except for height and temperament. While Margaret was petite, barely five feet tall, her mother was at least five foot six, just like her other three daughters. Margaret was lively, Mamm staid. Margaret was adventurous. Her mother was a homebody. All the qualities Mamm possessed were also passed down to her sisters. She couldn’t be more opposite from the women in her family. Perhaps that was part of the reason she’d been so drawn to the English world. Among her friends she could just be Margaret, instead of the troublesome daughter and sister. Yet just thinking about how close she’d come to going out tonight scared her and strengthened her resolve.
“Mamm,” she said, keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t wake up her father. “I’m going to visit Aenti Mary and Onkel Freemont for a while.”
Mamm set the sock down in her lap, her expression almost unreadable except for a quick lift of her brow. “I’ve suggested that to you several times. Since you haven’t caught the eye of any of our eligible young men in this district, you need to look elsewhere.” She eyed her suspiciously. “What made you change your mind?”
“Oh, nix in particular.” She bit the inside of her cheek at the fib, then told Mamm about her aunt’s letter. “I miss Nina too,” she added. “I thought it would be a nice time to visit.”
“It’s harvest time.”
Oops. How had she forgotten about that? She knew how busy everyone was this time of the year. Yesterday she went out to pick buckets of blueberries from the bushes her father had planted years ago, and tomorrow she’d planned to put up blueberry jelly and pie filling. She glanced down at her lap, resisting the urge to argue with Mamm even though she was desperate to leave. Meek and mild, remember? “I’ll wait until after the harvest then.”
“Nee, nee. Your schwesters and I can take care of all that. Miriam is old enough to help.”
Her oldest sister’s daughter was almost five, and she had helped with canning last year, mostly sorting out the fruits and vegetables and handing them to June to prepare. Not only did Margaret not have a close relationship with her sisters but she also didn’t feel accepted by their families, including her four young nieces and nephews. They had all kept their distance from her since she was sixteen, and in hindsight she didn’t blame them. She didn’t exactly set a good example, and they were vindicated when she had broken the Ordnung so soon. But she had always helped out with the harvest, even during her rumspringa. “Are you sure you don’t need mei help?”
“This is more important.”
“Visiting aenti?”
“Nee. I’m talking about you getting married. You’re twenty years old already,” Mamm said in her quiet but firm way. “You’ve put off your duty long enough.”
Margaret held in a sigh, knowing she would get a quick but cutting look from her mother if she heard it. On the outside, Doris Yoder was a humble, soft-spoken wife and mother who embodied the Amish way of life. But when her buttons were pushed, she could devastate the strongest of men with one facial expression.
But tonight, Margaret was prepared to appease her mother. “You’re right. It has been long enough,” she said, being vague on purpose and letting her mother think she was agreeing that she needed to find a husband.
