Free The Amish Bride by Mindy Starns Clark, Leslie Gould

favor—that Ezra would love me, that he would marry me, that I could handle joining the Amish church—but it didn’t feel right, and I couldn’t pull a coherent prayer together. Instead, I silently recited, Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be—. I stopped. Was I truly willing for God’s will to be done? If His will matched mine, of course…but what if it didn’t?
    Uncle Alexander stirred, and one by one heads were raised, including mine.
    Thy will.
    I looked around the table. Mammi ’s life hadn’t turned out the way she expected it would. Neither had Mom’s, nor Aunt Klara’s, nor Will’s. Ada was off to a good start, but she was still young. Who knew what lay ahead for her? Just the thought of it made me shiver.
    I took the bowl of mashed potatoes that appeared in front of my face. Next came the chicken, salad, applesauce, steamed chard, and homemade biscuits, distracting me from my thoughts. Aunt Klara was an exceptional cook. She’d sprinkled dried rosemary from her summer herb garden over her roasted chickens, which made them more than perfect. The birds were fresh, from her own coop, moist and flavorful. The potatoes were beat to perfection, and the chard was probably from her garden, frozen last summer to be used through the winter. The biscuits were freshly baked. In fact, they were still warm. I savored each bite. I couldn’t wait to see what was for dessert.
    With my plate fully loaded, I had taken just a few bites when Mat knocked over her glass of water.
    “Uh-oh,” she said, in her cute, going-on-four voice. Ada sprang to herfeet and rushed to grab a towel as Will scooped up the little girl before the liquid cascaded over the edge onto her lap. Ada was back with the towel, sopping up the water on the table and then the floor. In record time they had everything cleaned up. It was obvious they had done this before.
    “What about your table cloth?” Ada turned toward Aunt Klara.
    “It’s just water. It’ll be fine until we’re done eating.” She smiled at Mat, whose glass was half empty now. No one offered to pour her any more, and as an afterthought, Izzy grabbed Mel’s glass, carried it to the sink, and poured some of hers out too. Watching as she brought it back to the table and set it down in front of the child, I was embarrassed that I hadn’t thought of potential spills when I’d dispensed the water so fully earlier.
    “Ella was asking about the Home Place,” Mammi said out of the blue, turning toward Ada. “It’s in Elkhart County, but now I have to wonder how my mother’s people ended up there. Didn’t you tell me that they settled in Adams County when they came to Indiana?”
    I held my breath, hoping this conversation didn’t take any bad turns. While I was interested in getting more information, I certainly didn’t want her to bring up anything about my going out there. That would have to be kept under wraps until after I found out if a dairy job at the Kline farm could be arranged for Ezra.
    “They weren’t in Adams County long. That was just the first stop when they emigrated to Indiana,” Ada said. Ever since her trip to Switzerland, she had become our ad hoc historian. Her friend and tour guide, Daniel, had done a lot of research about our families and had encyclopedic knowledge of our ancestors, much of which he’d imparted to her.
    “From what I understand,” she continued, looking toward Mammi , “your parents learned that land was cheaper a little farther north and west, near the Michigan border, so they ended up there with the financial help of their sponsors. They wanted to farm wheat and needed a good-sized piece of land to make a go of it.”
    Mammi nodded, her eyes sparkling with memories. “They started with wheat, but through the years that changed to corn and soy. Of course, when I was growing up, we had the usual livestock too. Chickens and a few head of beef. Some pigs. A nice garden, of