Amish Widow's Proposal Read online

  Amish Widow’s Proposal

  Expectant Amish Widows Book 5

  Samantha Price

  Amish Romance

  Copyright © 2016 Samantha Price

  All Rights Reserved

  * * *

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Scripture quotations from The Authorized (King James) Version. Rights in the Authorized Version in the United Kingdom are vested in the Crown. Reproduced by permission of the Crown’s patentee, Cambridge University Press.

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The personal names have been invented by the author, and any likeness to the name of any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  EXPECTANT AMISH WIDOWS

  About Samantha Price

  Chapter 1

  Commit thy way unto the Lord;

  trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass.

  Psalm 37:5

  * * *

  Evelyn put a hand on her swelling stomach; her unborn child kicked in response, soothing Evelyn’s frayed nerves. If her baby was moving it was a good sign.

  She’d never expected her husband would die so young, but here she was at his funeral service held in her sister’s house. Sitting amongst her community and staring at the coffin, she wanted to cry like a regular widow, but the tears wouldn’t come. She might as well have been at the funeral of a stranger and not the man who’d been her husband for the last eight years. The only genuine sorrow she felt was for three-year-old Martha and her unborn child, who would both grow up without their father.

  Glancing down at her hands, she noticed the deep color of her nerve-rash, which showed beyond the edges of the long sleeves of her dress. With one arm holding Martha on her lap, she pulled her shawl higher on her neck so no one would see the ugly redness that would’ve traveled to her neck by now.

  Martha and Evelyn had practically lived on their own, as Amos had found one excuse after another to stay at his late father’s house. It had all started when Amos’ mother had taken ill—he stayed back at his parents’ house to help out. Then later, when his mother died, Amos stayed on to look after his father. Any normal Amish family would’ve moved the father in with them, but when Evelyn suggested the obvious, Amos responded that his father wanted to stay in his own house.

  Evelyn had suffered feelings of rejection, which made her disconnect further from her husband. Amos spent the odd night back in the marital home, but after his father died, he still stayed on at his parents’ house. Even though Evelyn hadn’t been in love with him—they were married. She had hoped that another child might make them more of a family. If they had just one more child, surely Amos would see the importance of staying in their own home like a proper family should.

  Her marriage to Amos had been anything but perfect, but the people she’d confided in—her older sisters—had told her that no marriage was perfect and every marriage needed to be worked at.

  Evelyn glanced at her sister, Sally, sitting beside her. Sally was the nearest to her in age and had been blessed with a wonderful marriage to Mark. They were married a year before Evelyn and Amos and now they had two boys. Oftentimes, Evelyn had to fight the envy she felt over her sister’s loving relationship with Mark. Why was it that God blessed some with love and withheld it from others?

  Even though Evelyn had never loved Amos, she’d never considered she’d be left alone. She closed her eyes and asked God to forgive her for the times early on in their marriage when she’d wished him dead. Death, she’d considered, was the only way she’d be free of the marriage that should never have taken place.

  At last, a tear trickled down her cheek. Her sadness was for Martha and her unborn child, and as the tear fell from her face the reality hit her that she was completely on her own. No man would be handing her money for the fortnightly shopping, and there would be no one chopping the firewood or fixing the old buggy that sorely needed replacing. She was now totally responsible for two young lives, and for the upkeep of two houses. Feeling alone was something she’d grown used to, but she realized she’d never been more alone. This time there was no one to blame for her problems.

  She looked up at the deacon who was giving the word of God.

  Closing her eyes tightly she wondered where she’d be now if she’d taken a different path; if she’d ignored the older ladies who’d convinced her that Amos would make a wonderful husband. The trouble was that all her older sisters and all her friends had married, leaving Evelyn the odd one out. She’d longed to be married and have someone to care for—someone who would in turn care for her. The ladies had been wrong when they’d convinced her that love grows after marriage.

  When they’d first dated, Amos had been caring and loving, but once they were married, the affection and attention abruptly stopped. Evelyn had tried to be a good wife by keeping the house clean and cooking all the food that he liked, but nothing had ever been good enough. It was as though he’d stopped trying to be nice as soon as they were wed—he’d claimed a wife and that was one job out of the way, in his eyes.

  I can’t go back and change things now! She’d been blessed with Martha and soon another child would be born.

  But how would they live? Amos hadn't made much money, but they’d managed to live on the money he provided—there was nothing kept in reserve.

  Her husband’s latest excuse for staying in his parents’ house had been that he was fixing it to lease out to give them extra money to live on. Amos’s motivation to fix the house was equally as slow as his work on it.

  Her attention was drawn back within the room when the deacon sat, and the bishop stood up to take over. As the bishop spoke, Evelyn’s eyes glazed over and she pictured the last time she'd seen Amos. He hadn't spoken of pain, although he must've been in pain according to the doctor. They’d had an argument about the kitchen tap that needed fixing. Amos said he’d fix it later and Evelyn had grown annoyed. There were too many things that needed fixing. She explained that he should take some time to hear of the things that needed repairing. He’d said he was almost finished with the repairs on his parents’ house, and Evelyn challenged him; she didn’t believe a word.

  He walked out, shutting the door loudly, and that was the last time she saw him.

  Martha squirmed on her lap, turned around, and whispered, “Finished now, Mamm?”

  Evelyn stared back into the blue-green eyes that matched her own. “Soon, baby, soon.”

  Martha turned around and laid back against her mother's chest with no idea she was at her father’s funeral. Evelyn had tried many times to explain that her father had gone home to God where he belongs, and they would see him again one day. Martha thought that he was simply still at Grossdaddi’s haus.

  “Are you okay?” Sally whispered leaning into her.

  “Yeah, I'm okay.”

  Martha turned around again. “Are you crying, Mamm?”

  “I'm not. Now turn
to the front and listen to the bishop.”

  Martha did as her mother told her.

  As Evelyn’s house was small and in a state of disrepair, the viewing of the body and the funeral service was held at Sally's house. Evelyn was pleased and grateful that no one would have to see inside her house.

  Amos had barely lifted a hand to repair anything in their home. No house can go years without constant care and attention, and hers hadn’t had any for years and that was the reason it was falling apart.

  It was all Amos’ fault. He’d tricked her into marrying him by presenting a false front to her, and now he’d ruined her life again by leaving her with two children to raise with no money.

  I will get through this day and then I’ll figure out what to do. Evelyn wiped another tear from her eye.

  Sally leaned into her and whispered, “Gott will help you get through this hard time.”

  Evelyn managed a smile. She hoped her future would be better than the past few years. Even though she hoped for a better life, she didn’t deserve good in her life since she’d been so evil. She closed her eyes and asked forgiveness for often wishing Amos dead. Did her wicked thoughts have a hand in her husband's death? Did the devil hear what was in her heart and ask God to take Amos away as punishment for the foolishness in her heart? Perhaps she was a sorceress who could make things happen by merely wishing. She sniffed back the tears she felt coming and put a hand on the top of her stomach to still a sudden bout of nausea. The bishop should know the evil thoughts in her mind and in her heart. If she confessed her sin to the bishop, she might feel whole.

  “Come on. Are you ready?” Sally said as she rose to her feet.

  Evelyn looked up at her sister, realizing that the service was over. The songs had been sung, the words had been spoken, and all that that was left was to go to the graveyard.

  Sally leaned down and picked up Martha. “You come with me, Martha.”

  With Martha off her lap, Evelyn was able to stand. She looked down at her large stomach, which was much bigger already with this baby than when she’d been pregnant with Martha. This baby seemed like he or she would be much larger than seven pounds.

  As Evelyn walked out of the house, she heard whispers of Amos and how he’d died. She heard the word ‘aneurysm,’ and wondered what the people would know of such a thing. Evelyn had never heard about aneurysms before her father-in-law had died of one. Amos had died in the same way.

  Martha took hold of her hand again once they were outside the house.

  “We go home now, Mamm?”

  “Nee, not yet. We go to the grave. Remember I told you about that?”

  Martha nodded. “Goodbye, then home?”

  “Jah, then we can go home after the graveyard and after we say goodbye to Dat.”

  Martha looked around. “Where’s Dat?”

  Evelyn hadn’t allowed Martha to see her father’s body lifeless and still. She’d tried to explain that they were saying goodbye to her father today, but that was as much as Martha understood. Evelyn couldn’t bring herself to tell Martha that her father was in the wooden box—the one that would be lowered into the ground and covered by dirt.

  “Would you like me to drive you to the graveyard, Evelyn?”

  Evelyn turned around to see Hezekiah, a widower with three young children. His wife, Jane, had died two years before of pneumonia.

  “Dat!” Martha said, which made Hezekiah’s face light up.

  “Nee, Martha, it’s not Dat! This is Mr. Hostetler. You know Mr. Hostetler.” Embarrassed, Evelyn turned back to speak to Hezekiah. “I’m sorry; it’s the beard, I think.” Hezekiah had a similar-length dark beard, like Amos’. “Denke, but we’ve arranged to go with Sally and Mark.”

  He nodded and touched his beard. “Jane’s been gone for some time. I know these next months won’t be easy for you. If you need anything done around your place or with your livestock, just let me know.” He wagged a finger. “Be sure to ask if you need anything.”

  “I will denke.”

  He looked down at Martha and patted her on the head and Martha gave him a beaming smile.

  “I think they’re ready to go,” she said pointing at Sally and Mark’s buggy. When Hezekiah nodded, she walked toward the buggy holding firmly onto Martha’s hand.

  “You’re hurting, Mamm.”

  “Ach, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I had such a tight grip.”

  It was a squeeze in the back of the buggy with Sally and Mark’s two boys, seven-year-old Daniel and six-year-old David.

  “You okay, Evelyn?” Mark asked.

  “We’re doing okay. I’ll be glad when I wake up tomorrow and this day is behind me.”

  “It must be hard for you. Let me know if I can do anything to help out.”

  “Denke, Mark; I appreciate that.” In her mind, Evelyn laughed. There were so many things that needed doing around the house she would scare everyone off if she named them all. Still, it was nice of people to offer.

  Chapter 2

  Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed,

  rightly dividing the word of truth.

  2 Timothy 2:15

  * * *

  When Evelyn got home later that night, she put Martha to bed and pulled the covers up around her neck to keep out the chilly night air.

  “Will Dat be here tonight?”

  With a sigh she sat on her daughter’s bed. “Nee. We talked about this. Dat will not come here again. He’s gone to be with Gott.”

  “When I wake up?”

  “Nee, not then either.” Evelyn put a hand to her head. She was too tired to keep finding new ways to tell her daughter that her father was gone.

  “Tell me a story, Mamm?”

  “I’m too tired tonight. I’ll tell you one tomorrow night.”

  “Water?”

  Martha asked for water every time she was denied a story. It was a way to delay bedtime. Evelyn stood, and poured a glass of water from the pitcher and took it back to Martha. “You’ll have to sit up.”

  Martha sat and placed both hands around the glass and took a small sip.

  “Is that all?”

  Martha giggled and nodded.

  “You can’t have been very thirsty.”

  Smiling, Martha slipped back under the covers.

  “Gut nacht.” Evelyn pulled the quilt back over Martha’s shoulders, and then leaned down and kissed her forehead.”

  “Gut nacht,” Martha’s small voice replied.

  Leaving the bedroom door slightly open, Evelyn headed downstairs.

  Evelyn had underestimated the changes that would take place in her life after Amos’ death. Small things that she’d taken for granted she’d either have to do herself or pay someone to do them. Once she was downstairs, she started a fire with the last of the chopped firewood. There was only half a basket of kindling and six large logs left. In the barn were enough logs of firewood to see her through the winter, but she’d have to learn to split them for herself. Being the youngest in the family meant that there was often no use her learning things. Splitting wood had been one of those chores that nobody had taken time to teach her. After she’d married, that had been one of Amos’ chores. Evelyn was going to make sure she taught each of her children all she could. It takes time to teach a child skills, but, once taught, the child becomes a helper. It’s a blessing in later life for the child to have learned such skills.

  One of the many things in life she looked forward to was sitting alone and having a nice cup of hot tea in peace. She headed to the kitchen to boil the pot. Once the stove was lit, she picked up the kettle and filled it with water. On the way back to the stove, she noticed water dripping from somewhere. Looking closely at the kettle she saw that it was leaking. With a yell, she rushed back to the sink, but not before quite a bit of water had dripped onto the floor.

  I’ll put a new kettle on my list of things that’ll never happen and things I’ll never get. Nee! I need two separate lists—there�
��ll be too many items for one list. Evelyn pulled a small saucepan out of the cupboard, filled it, and placed it on the stove. While waiting for it to boil, she filled the teapot with tea leaves and then placed a cup beside it.

  “Are you all right, Mamm?” a small voice said behind her.

  Evelyn jumped with fright and turned around to see Martha out of bed. “You’ll catch your death of cold. Back to bed with you!”

  “You screamed.”

  “I’m all right. It was just the kettle leaking.” She looked down at the floor and realized she’d have to mop up the water. Looking back at Martha, she said, “I’ll take you back to bed, and then you must stay there.”

  “Okay, Mamm.”

  Evelyn took Martha back to bed and went through the same routine with her asking for a story, and then having a drink of water. Once Martha was settled for a second time, Evelyn headed back downstairs suddenly rushing when she remembered she had water on the stove. Before she reached the loudly bubbling water, she skidded on the wet floor and landed hard on her bottom.

  Even though she was in pain, there was no time to waste. The water was now bubbling over and soon it would get into the gas connection. On her bottom, she scooted close to the oven and turned the stove off, but the flame died before she could reach it. She flicked the switch off. Not knowing much about the gas connection, she didn’t know whether it was safe to use the oven again. If Amos had been alive, he would’ve known what to do with the oven.