An Amish Husband for Tillie

Book 0: Amish of Pontotoc

by Amy Lillard

Genres: Amish & Mennonite; Christian Romance; Clean & Wholesome Romance

Synopsis

Tillie Gingerich is so in love with Melvin Yoder that she agrees to leave her conservative Amish home to live with him in the English world. But when the struggle to make ends meet leads to conflict and reveals troubling weaknesses in their relationship, Tillie returns to Pontotoc—pregnant and unmarried. Her loving family accepts her, but to convince the rest of the community, they must turn to the bishop. Distraught, Tillie runs away on Christmas Eve—only to get as far as an isolated house on the edge of town. Levi Yoder, Melvin’s upright distant cousin, is grieving the loss of his wife and wants to be alone. He is hardly pleased to open his door and find a pregnant woman––a painful reminder of all he’s lost. But with an ice storm approaching, he can’t turn Tillie away. Yet as morning nears, the miracle of Christmas brings unexpected challenges, opportunities, and promises for the future.

Release date: September 29, 2020

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 354

Sample

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” The English driver looked down the narrow, red-dirt road, then back up into Tillie’s eyes.

She smiled in what she hoped was a confident manner and nodded her head. “I’m sure.”

It wasn’t too cold out, just enough to let a person know winter had arrived in Northeast Mississippi. But he was talking about something else entirely.

He hesitated once more. She held her breath. She didn’t want him to follow her down the road to the house where she had grown up. She knew he was only trying to be kind and gentlemanly, but she didn’t want anyone to be a witness in case they turned her away. She remembered her father’s reaction when Hannah had returned. He had not been pleased. He would most likely be even less joyed that she was back. Her mother would be happy, she was fairly certain, but would it be enough to keep Tillie there? She didn’t know. The shame of her return was more than enough to keep her running.

English Christmas music streamed from the car radio as the man considered his choices. “There’s only Amish houses down that way,” he said.

“Yes, I know.”

“You used to be Amish?” he asked, taking in her English attire. His gaze swept her from head to toe. She was glad that she had fastened the middle buttons of the military coat she had found at the Goodwill. She would never get him on his way if he knew what she had concealed beneath her winter jacket.

“Something like that,” she replied.

“If you’re sure.”

“Positive.” She gave him one last smile that she hoped was confident enough to pass.

“Okay.” He gave a final nod.

She had a feeling that if she’d had a couple of suitcases she wouldn’t have been able to dissuade him. But all she had were the clothes on her back and what she had been able to stuff into her backpack.

She handed him the folded bills she had counted out for the ride home. It was all that she had left. The last of her money had brought her back to Pontotoc. She had no choice but to stay. For a while anyway. No choice at all.

With a sigh she hoped the driver didn’t hear, she turned and looked down the road toward the house where she grew up. She couldn’t see it, of course. It was down in a little valley surrounded by barns and outbuildings and the houses belonging to her brothers.

Behind her the car idled. She would have to take those first steps before the driver would be certain that she would be okay. Of all the people she had met in the English world, why did one of the sweetest and nicest have to be the last one she would see for a while?

Somehow she managed to take that first step. Why was it harder to walk toward home than it was to leave Melvin a note explaining where she had gone and why?

The sound of the engine changed. The tires crunched across the gravel as he allowed the car to roll forward. Two more steps, these easier than the one before, and the driver started down the road. Two turns and he would be back in town. A quarter of a mile and she would be on her parents’ front porch.

Each step was a little easier to make than the last, but still it was rough going. Not so much because the winter had started to take its toll on the packed dirt road, but because she knew what was waiting for her at the bottom of the valley. Or rather, she didn’t know what was waiting for her. Would they be welcoming or would they flatly turn her away? There was only one way to know, and it was a trial by fire.

She stopped at the top of the hill, next to the cabin where Jamie and his adopted son, Peter, had lived for a time when they first came to Mississippi. Maybe her folks would allow her to stay there. It was almost a home. They had built a room onto the back, upping the room total to two, but it would be enough for her and the baby.

Tillie adjusted the straps on her backpack, then cupped her hands over the growing mound concealed by the bulk of her coat. Just another month or so and she would give birth to Melvin Yoder’s child while he remained in the English world repairing engines and enjoying the freedoms he couldn’t have in their conservative Amish community.

But she couldn’t stay there any longer. It was just so hard.

“Okay, baby,” she said. “This is it.” What was Cindy at the day care always saying? It’s now or never.

“Now or never,” she muttered.

Lord, please don’t allow them to turn me away. I know I’ve made more than my share of mistakes. But this child is innocent. She needs a home, a place to stay and be loved. Move their hearts and have them accept. If not for me, then for this baby. Amen.

Once again she started walking, taking in the subtle changes that had come to their little valley since she had left. There was a new tire swing in the large oak that sat next to the barn and horse corral. Someone had moved a washer up to her brother David’s house. She supposed their mamm had gotten tired of washing her youngest son’s clothes. A stack of bee boxes sat to one side of her brother Jim’s house. A lot of changes, but none at all. Maybe it just felt that way because she was different. The English world had changed her, taught her life lessons that she could not have learned anywhere else.

As she entered the shared yards, a screen door slammed. She turned to see Anna, her brother Jim’s wife, standing at the edge of their porch.

“Tillie?” Almost a whisper.

“Hi, Anna.” She smiled, hesitantly, the one motion asking for forgiveness from the start.

“Tillie?” The screech behind her had Tillie whirling around to face her mother.

“Abner! Come quick! Tillie’s home.”

After hugs from her brothers and her nieces and nephews, and a frown from her father, Tillie was led into the house and directly to the kitchen table. Of course her mother wanted to feed her straight away, but the roundness of Tillie’s belly gave her mamm pause.

During all the welcoming and joyful tears, no one had mentioned her obviously pregnant condition. She didn’t know if no one wanted to be the one to broach the subject or if they simply didn’t know what to say. Or maybe it was because of the mixed company—men and children. Women didn’t discuss such matters around men and children.

But now the clamor had died down. Everyone save Mamm and Libby, her brother Jim’s oldest daughter, had gone back to their lives. Dat was most likely in the barn working on one of the sheds he sold to English and Amish alike. Jim was out with him, she was certain. Just as she was certain David had been sent to her sisters’ houses to tell them the news. And to Gracie’s new home. Leah had written her about Gracie’s new family. She was delighted for her cousin. A family of her own had been Gracie’s unspoken dream for so very long.

Mamm slid onto the bench seat opposite Tillie and shot Libby a look.

The girl immediately stood. “I’ll go check on Mammi.” In the blink of an eye, she was gone, bustling off toward the dawdihaus to see about the oldest member of their family.

Obviously Libby had been brought over to help Mammi. Tillie’s grandmother had fallen and broken her hip a couple of years ago. Hannah had returned shortly afterward, using that injury as an excuse for returning when the real reasons were much more alarming—a dead, cheating husband and debts beyond anything they could imagine. Gracie had come to help at first and stayed until she married Matthew. If Tillie had been at home, Mammi’s care would have fallen to her. As it was, it had become Libby’s responsibility.

“Would you like to tell me about it?” Mamm’s voice was soft and so gentle that tears sprang to Tillie’s eyes.

No, she didn’t want to tell her mother about “it,” but what choice did she really have? None, if she wanted to stay for a while.

“The baby’s due in January.” Maybe not the best thing to start off with, but it was out and she had to be satisfied with it.

“And your Melvin?”

Tillie just shook her head. The lump in her throat took up too much room for her to speak around it. She swallowed hard and tried again. “He didn’t want to return.”

Mamm nodded, but the action was more resigned than agreeing. “And this is what you want?”

Tillie started to speak again, but her mamm beat her to it. “You’ve made peace with it?”

She didn’t need to say the rest, that she would be shunned in their small community. Even though Tillie hadn’t joined the church, the community would frown heavily upon her wandering from her faith and all the lessons that she had been taught in her life.

“I suppose,” Tillie finally said. “I mean, I’m hoping he’ll change his mind now that I’m here.” And that was something. Her mamm had no idea how hard it had been to walk away from her job, the apartment where she lived with Melvin, and Melvin himself. But she’d had to. Even if she might not get to stay in Pontotoc. If she was to stay, Melvin would have to come back and the two of them would have to get married. It was as simple as that.

But with all the Christmas celebrations going around, Tillie had longed for home. She longed for her family, the traditions and people, the church where she felt loved. Home. And she knew that she had to return. For the baby. She wanted her child raised among the grace and faith of her Amish community. Even though what she wanted and what she could have were literally worlds apart.

When she told Melvin her plans, he scoffed. Maybe he even thought she was joking. That’s why she had left in the middle of the morning, while he was at work, and made her way back to Pontotoc.

Her mother smiled, the same smile Tillie had traveled miles and miles to see. “Yes,” she said. “You’re here. Now,” she continued, “let’s see about getting you something to eat.” She started to stand, but Tillie reached out a hand and laid it on top of her mother’s.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Tillie said. Nothing else seemed to fit, but the words themselves were sadly lacking. She was sorry for so many things—for leaving in the dead of night, for going against the Ordnung, for coming home in shame.

But the one thing she couldn’t be sorry about was the baby itself. It was a miracle. Not in the Biblical sense, but a miracle nonetheless. A life was growing inside her, a life that she and Melvin had made. She was sorry that they hadn’t gotten married yet, but he always seemed too busy. Honestly, she thought the friends he had made at the garage had talked him out of marrying her.

And that was another thing she was sorry for: Melvin had changed.

Maybe she had too. But now all she wanted was to return home, be among her family, and spend Christmas in their loving embrace.

“I know, dear.” Mamm patted her hand and made her way to the icebox. She pulled out a couple of containers of leftovers, dumped them out in two separate stainless steel pans, then lit the stove.

Mamm turned back to face her. Tillie tried to smile, but the action wouldn’t come. She was tired. So very tired. It had taken her hours to get home, though it was only about an hour and a half by car between Pontotoc and Columbus. “It’s not going to be easy, you know.”

Tillie nodded. It was already difficult. Seeing the shame on her father’s face, the shock on her brothers’ faces. Only Anna had worn a sympathetic look. But that was Jim’s Anna, always worried about the person next to her.

“I know,” she said. “But—” She stopped.

“But what?” Mamm prodded.

“I had to come home.”

Steaming pots forgotten, Mamm crossed over to her and placed her hands on either side of her face. She tilted Tillie’s chin up until she had no choice but to look and listen, much like Mamm had done when Tillie was a child.

“You are home,” Mamm said emphatically. “Never forget that.”

After eating almost more leftovers than she could hold, Tillie donned her army coat and went out onto the porch. She loved sitting on the swing with her cousin Gracie, talking about boys and cooking and quilting and all the other things that young girls talk about.

“Tillie?” Libby eased the screen door open but stopped before letting it shut behind her. “Can I . . . can I come out and sit with you?”

Tillie smiled. “Of course.” She scooched over and patted the seat next to her. She gave Libby an encouraging nod, though she really just wanted to be alone. She supposed there would be time for that later. Right now her niece seemed to have something on her mind.

Libby sat down next to her and tears once again filled Tillie’s eyes. She missed her sisters so much. They had just come back to Pontotoc to live when Melvin had decided he had had enough of Amish living. What choice had she had but to go? She had loved him, after all—though now she wondered about that love. Was it really love if the person didn’t seem to love you in return? She had thought he did, but things change. People change. Melvin changed, until she hardly knew him at all. But that wasn’t the reason she had come home. No, it was Christmas. The chill in the air, everyone talking about buying gifts and wrapping them. All the ladies at the day care wanted to talk about their Christmas trees and when they were going to put them up. Those who didn’t know her well also didn’t know that she was Amish. She didn’t have a Christmas tree or lights or ornaments. No stockings of red and white, no Christmas music, no singing Santa or dancing Grinch, the weird, green creature that didn’t seem like Christmas to her at all. She had none of these things.

Up until that moment it had been easy to pretend that she belonged in the English world. Sure, she’d had to buy all her clothes at Goodwill, and sometimes she didn’t match things up just right, but she was trying her best to fit in. Then came all the talk of Christmas, and one thing became so very clear: she was never going to fit in.

And that’s why she had to come home.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Libby said, flashing her a shy smile. Shy was not a word Tillie normally associated with Libby, which meant something was up.

“I’m glad I’m back too.”

Tillie waited for Libby to say more.

“Hannah and Leah will be so happy to see you.”

“Jah,” Tillie said. Still she waited.

“And Gracie. You know she has five kids now? Can you imagine? And one of her own coming soon.”

The last thing she wanted to hear about were her sisters’ and her cousin’s perfect lives.

“What’s up, Libby?”

It was as if a dam broke. Libby turned toward her and grabbed Tillie’s hand. “Does it hurt?” she asked with a pointed nod at Tillie’s burgeoning belly. “Being pregnant?”

Tillie laid a protective hand over the mound. “Why do you ask?”

Libby sighed, a frustrated sound. “No one will tell me. You know how the women are. They don’t like to talk about things. I just want to know. That’s all.”

“Because of a boy?”

“Maybe.” Another sigh, this one more wistful. “I’m growing up and everyone still treats me like a child. I just want to know things.”

Tillie waited.

“Silas King.” The name was almost like a prayer on her lips.

Tillie remembered Silas. “He’s a little older, right?”

Libby sniffed. “Not that much older. Just five years. Anyway, he’s been acting like he’s going to ask me to court him, and, well . . .” She fiddled with one of her kapp strings, then shook her head. “You just got home. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this.” She started to stand, but Tillie reached out and held her in place.

“Don’t run away,” she said. “If you have a question, ask it.” She would much rather people ask than stare at her and make her wonder what was going on inside their heads. No one paid her much mind in the English world, but now that she was back in Pontotoc, she knew that was going to change. Stares and questions—they were both coming.

“It’s just marriage and relationships . . . I’d ask Mamm, but it’s been so long since she and Dat got married I doubt she even remembers.”

Tillie bit back a laugh. “You’d be surprised,” she said. “But I wouldn’t want to ask my mother about such things either.”

“How do you know when you’re ready? To . . . you know . . .”

“I do hope you’re talking about getting married.”

Libby sniffed delicately. “Of course.” She really was still so young. A tender soul trapped in the body of a young woman.

“You’ll know,” Tillie said.

“Like you and Melvin.”

Well, she had thought she knew. Now everything had changed. She had rushed in, been impulsive, gotten herself in a bit of trouble, and had come running back home. Part of her knew she should be with Melvin, talking to him about marriage and the early family they had started. But she had to be here, in Pontotoc, where she truly belonged. They might not give her a second glance when she was among the English, and she was certain to endure more than her fair share of gossip and disapproving looks, but she needed to be here, with her family. For as long as they would have her.

“I don’t know,” she finally said. She wanted it to be true, but Melvin hadn’t come after her. Not yet, anyway. Was that what she wanted? For him to swoop in and take her away?

No, she wanted him to come back too, and live with their families. Well, her family, since all of his had moved away. Leah had told her in one of her letters. But they could live here, she and Melvin and the baby. Maybe in the cabin up the drive. Or even in a house they had yet to build. But they had already started their family without talking all these things through. What was a girl to do with that?

“Just promise me one thing, Libby,” Tillie said. “Don’t be in a rush.”

Rushing in had gotten her in the exact spot she was in now. And the place wasn’t always comfortable. Not by far.

Levi Yoder pulled his gloves from his hands and made his way into the feed store. He hated coming into town. He hated stopping at the feed store. Too many men standing around talking about too many things that hardly seemed to matter. The weather, Thomas Byler’s new carriage mare, and these days . . . Christmas.

Most of all, he hated Christmas.

And he hated himself for hating it.

“What can I get you, Levi?” the man behind the counter asked. Tyrone Getty had run the co-op for as long as Levi could remember. Like with a lot of folks of color, it was impossible to tell exactly how old Tyrone was. His wiry steel-gray hair bore testament to his years, but his dark face was devoid of wrinkles, smooth and unlined like that of a much younger man. He had been here when Levi was a child and it seemed that he would remain long after Levi had passed.

“Tyrone,” Levi grunted, and slid a small piece of paper across the counter toward the man. With any luck the order would get him through, clear to the new year. But it seemed these days luck wasn’t on his side.

“Gimme a minute,” Tyrone said, never taking his brown eyes from the paper. The man didn’t wear glasses—another thing that made his age such a mystery. “Help yourself to a cup of coffee.” He nodded toward the old-fashioned sideboard that had been converted into a coffee station for the customers.

Levi started toward the station, then faltered. On a day like today, when the wind had turned off a bit chilly, the coffee was a welcome offering. It was the company that made him leery. Four men stood between the sideboard and the potbellied stove. He knew them all. George Williams owned the land next to the bishop’s. Max Myron ran the Randolph Animal Shelter. They were the two English in the group. Jason Menno and Chris Lambert were both Amish farmers, members of the same church district as Levi, and they already wore sympathetic looks on their faces.

How much longer before people stopped looking at him like he was something to be pitied? How long before he stopped feeling like a walking sack of grief? Who knew?

Just another reason why he hated to come to town.

But they had spotted him. Jason moved from in front of the coffeepot and the men stood and waited for him to come near.

What choice did he have? Levi recovered his steps and started toward the station. On the way he passed an endcap of Christmas lights and another with some sort of inflatable creatures to place on the front lawn. A reindeer, a Santa, and a snowman. Like there was any snow in Northeast Mississippi. Not this early in the year, and hardly ever enough to build a snowman. Then he passed a dancing Santa that moved to its own music every time someone walked by it. A dancing Santa. Why was that necessary in a feed store? It wasn’t. Just like all the strands of shiny garland that looped and swooped around the ceiling. Or the silver and gold snowflakes that hung from fishing line and paper clips. None of it needed to be there, and it only served to remind him that they were gone.

Mary. And the baby he never got to hold.

Gone in an instant.

“Levi.”

One of the men spoke. He wasn’t paying attention as to who it was. He just wanted to get his cup of coffee and back away to allow them to finish their conversation on Thomas Byler’s carriage mare or the weather, or Strawberry Dan’s last boring sermon. Whatever it was that they had been talking about before he arrived and everyone’s day was shattered with sadness.

Levi nodded in their general direction, poured himself a Styrofoam cup full of coffee, and wandered away without making eye contact with any of them. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want them to ask him how he was doing. He answered those questions every day, every time they had church or he had to run into town to get supplies. Each day when at least one of the good members of their community came to visit, bringing food and company he did not want. The lies were weighing heavy on him. People asked, but they didn’t want to know the truth. They didn’t want to know that he was having a hard time accepting what all would say was God’s will.

God’s will. He almost snorted coffee up his nose at the thought. Thankfully it slid down his throat instead and saved him from drawing all their attention once again.

He had been taught that the Lord controls all things. That He has a plan and His will would prevail. The idea of God’s will seemed perfectly logical when talking about other people’s problems. He had even been able to accept that it was the reason for his brother Daniel’s death. But not this. Not his Mary and his baby.

And lying to everyone when they asked him how he fared and telling them that he was good and God’s will would shine through made him choke. How could the death of an innocent who had yet to draw a first breath be a part of God’s will? What kind of God would will that? None that he wanted to follow. Which stood to reason that God’s will wasn’t a part of Mary’s death. Something else. Maybe punishment for a crime of his youth. He didn’t know. He only knew that it couldn’t be God. If it was . . . heaven help them all.

He took another sip of his coffee and unbuttoned his coat. It was warm in the store. Or maybe it was the eyes that watched him that had him warm beyond normal. He knew they meant well. And normally he would have been able to handle it. But not while surrounded by blow-up snowmen and dancing Santas.

Without looking at the other men, he headed back to the counter. A small bell sat next to the cash register and was used to summon a clerk, mostly Tyrone, if he wasn’t right there already.

Levi tapped the bell with more vigor than he had intended. Tyrone appeared in an instant.

“Something wrong?” the man asked without hesitation.

Had he rang the bell that urgently? No matter. “No. Jah. My order,” he finally managed. “Double it.” Then for sure he wouldn’t have to come back into town before the Christmas celebrating was over and done.

Levi managed to avoid the four men, as well as the two others who came into the feed store while he waited for his increased order.

Just after he had asked for the extra supplies, he had second thoughts. It would eat up a lot of his savings, and with too much feed on hand he would run the risk of rats getting into it. Or moisture and mold. But it was done and he wasn’t changing his mind now. He just stayed to the side and out of the way, hoping that no one noticed him there.

He listened in while the men talked but didn’t join their . . .