The proposal plot, p.1
The Proposal Plot, page 1
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Dedication
To James. I love you.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Discussion Questions
Acknowledgments
Glossary
About the Author
Acclaim for Kathleen Fuller
Also by Kathleen Fuller
Copyright
Prologue
Six months earlier
Second time’s the charm. Nelson Bontrager stood outside Stoll’s Inn and wiped his damp palms over his pant legs. Although the sun had set a short time ago, the June humidity cloaked the air like a thick wool blanket, contributing to his perspiration situation. Maybe he should wait for a cooler evening when he wasn’t so sweaty—or so nervous.
But it was now or never. He loved Norene Yoder. Had loved her since he first laid eyes on her when she moved to Birch Creek. After three months of pursuing her, she’d finally agreed to go out with him, and they’d been dating ever since. He didn’t spend as much time with her as he’d like, but she was busy. He was too, working on his family’s expansive farm. Unlike his five brothers, who also worked in the family business, he wasn’t all that enamored with farming. But it was good, steady work that would enable him to provide for his future family. And he wanted Norene to be a part of that.
He grinned, but it faded quickly. Standing out here musing about their relationship and future wasn’t getting him any closer to making her his wife. The proposal was just the first step, after all. A simple four-word question: Will you marry me?
Nelson gulped, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and ignored his increasing jitters as he walked to the back of the inn. He’d never proposed to a woman before, but he’d come close to asking Miriam Miller two years ago. She also moved to Birch Creek in search of a husband. He also thought he loved her and that she loved him. He’d been dead wrong about that. But he wasn’t wrong about Norene. Just keyed up about asking her to marry him. That was normal . . . Wasn’t it?
A light shone in the window of her rented room on the second floor of the inn. He picked up a few pebbles and tossed three in succession against the window. Their secret code. He knew she’d be home tonight. She didn’t work at the diner on Thursdays, and she’d told him those were the nights she wanted to rest and relax by herself. “They’re my jigsaw puzzle nights,” she’d said. When he told her he liked puzzles too—not true, but he’d say and do anything to spend as much time with her as possible—she said she preferred to do them alone. He could understand that. Growing up with ten brothers and one sister, he understood the value of having alone time, although he’d give it up in a heartbeat to be with her. But he had to respect her wishes.
When she didn’t come to the window, he picked up a few more pebbles. Maybe she hadn’t heard the ones he already tossed. Plink. Plink. Plink. Then he waited. And waited. And frowned. Had she gone to bed already? By her own admission, she was a night owl, and it wasn’t even nine o’clock yet.
The back door opened, and a bright light lit up the large patio, startling him. Selah Stoll, who helped her husband, Levi, run the inn, came outside. “Hallo, Nelson,” she said, giving him a smile. “I didn’t realize anyone was out here.”
“Hi.” He thrust his hands behind his back and dropped the pebbles. More sweat broke out on his brow. “Nice night, ya?”
“That it is.” She glanced at the window. “Waiting for someone?”
He didn’t bother fabricating an excuse. For the past three years since the mail-order bride advertisement had swept through the national Amish community—thanks to a prank by his younger brother Jesse—Stoll’s Inn had been the primary residence for single Amish women arriving in Birch Creek to find a husband, with somewhat mixed results. “I was just getting ready to knock on the door.” A little fib, but he didn’t want to explain everything.
“Why not the front door?” Selah’s smile widened.
Busted. Oh well, he’d forget this little embarrassing moment after Norene accepted his proposal. “Is Norene here?”
Selah’s smile faded. “Nee.”
“Oh.” Maybe she’d stepped out for a few minutes. “Have you seen her lately?”
“Not since this morning.”
She’d been gone all day? That didn’t make sense.
“You’re welcome to wait for her in the lobby,” Selah said. Then she frowned a little. “I’m sorry to pry, but are you seeing each other?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating. “Ya.” Although Amish dating was often kept private, Norene had insisted on keeping their relationship a secret from everyone. “It’s more special that way,” she’d said, right before she kissed him senseless. She had a way of doing that whenever a niggle of doubt or questioning crept in, and by the end of the kiss, everything was right again. And soon she would be his wife, so there was no reason to hide their love anymore.
Selah opened her mouth as if she were going to say something else, then closed it. “Geh on in,” she said. “There’s coffee, tea, and some fresh lemon water if you want. Help yourself to some snacks too. I’m headed home for the night.”
“Danki.” He moved to walk past her, then saw a flicker of concern in her eyes.
“I hope she doesn’t keep you waiting too long.”
Me too.
Selah waved to him, then turned around and headed for the house next to the inn where she and Levi lived.
He walked through the back of the inn to the front lobby, which was empty. His brother Ezra worked here as a handyman and occasionally Nelson would help him with a project or three. That’s how he’d met Norene. It was also how Ezra had met his future wife, Katharine. When Norene showed up and accepted his proposal, Nelson would be the second Bontrager to find forever love at the Stoll’s Inn.
He grabbed some water and gulped it down, then wiped his face with his handkerchief. He shoved it back into his pocket and sat down at one of the breakfast tables. Surely wherever Norene was, she’d be back soon.
A clock sat above a large stone fireplace on the opposite wall of the lobby. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Thirty minutes later, the front door opened, and Nelson shot up from his chair. Beulah, one of Norene’s friends, walked inside. He dashed over to her.
“Have you seen Norene?” He inwardly cringed at the desperation in his voice, but he couldn’t control it. Waiting on her for so long had sent his anxiety into orbit.
Beulah’s round face turned pale. “Uh . . .” Her eyes darted to the still open door.
Finally! He hurried outside and saw two shadowy figures near the large tree in the front yard of the inn next to the gravel lot. A tall male, a short female, embracing each other. The niggle turned into a sour knot as they moved hand in hand closer to the house, the light from the parking lot lamppost revealing their faces. Ben Miller and Norene.
His Norene.
Her giggle reached his ears, and he watched in shock as they stopped close to the inn’s long front porch, unaware they weren’t alone. She stood on tiptoes and kissed Ben . . . senseless.
Nelson’s jaw jerked as they broke apart, and Ben walked away while Norene turned to face the inn. His heart pounded and ached in his chest. How could she lie to him about Thursday nights? How could she kiss another man when she’s in love with me?
Her brows lifted with shock. “Nelson!” She ran up the stairs and pulled him away from the front door. “What are you doing here? It’s Thursday.”
His tone turned ugly. “The day you always want for yourself? The one when you insist on being alone?”
Her beautiful blue eyes turned to ice. “I thought we had an agreement. Thursday nights are my nights.”
“To geh out with other men?” He moved away from her as if he were seeing her for the first time. “I thought we were in a relationship.”
“We are. Just not a serious one.” She frowned. “Wait . . . Did you think . . .”
Nelson almost staggered from her words. “I told you I loved you. Of course I thought—”
“I never said it back.”
Nelson froze, searching his mind for the memory, because he was absolutely positively sure she’d said she loved him. Instead, he remembered with newfound clarity how she often changed the subject when he brought up their future together, dodged his kisses unless she was the one who initiated them, and faintly laughed at his jokes while rolling her eyes . . . Oh nee. Nee, nee, nee. Had he been fooled again? No . . . I fooled myself.
“I do like you, Nelson.” Her tone was contrite.
Translation: he wasn’t good enough. Not for Miriam. Not for her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
His anguish and shame disappeared as something inside his heart turned to stone. “You didn’t.”
“Oh gut.” She smiled. “We can still hang out, you know. I always have fun playing checkers with you.”
Checkers. They played on most of their dates, at her insistence. He didn’t even like the game. “Do you play checkers with Ben? Oh wait. Thursday is jigsaw puzzles.”
Her smile shifted to a foul expression. “You don’t have to be so mean, Nelson. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Unbelievable. He turned and walked off, resisting the temptation to run away. His palms weren’t damp anymore. They were cold . . . like the rest of him. And as he walked home, he realized he’d reacted the same way when Miriam dumped him for someone else. The feelings he’d been so sure of disappeared, leaving an empty space behind. He’d been dumb enough to think Norene had filled it, but he couldn’t completely blame her. Not when the scales were off his eyes. He’d let his hope and desire for a wife and family cloud his judgment. Not once, but twice.
There wouldn’t be a third time.
One
Dear Diary,
I can’t believe it’s been nearly a year since we moved from Lancaster to Marigold. And what a year it’s been! Dad and I have been working hard to make our grocery store a success after we took it over from the Burkholders, and thankfully our efforts have paid off. Some days there’s more business than we can handle! I even mentioned to Dad that we should find out who owns the empty building next door and see if it’s for sale so we could expand. He said no. Not a surprise. He doesn’t like taking risks, even though it didn’t take much to convince him to move to Marigold. I wish he would reconsider expanding, though. I think it would be good for our family and for the growing community.
I also wish he’d do something about Junia. She’s not pulling her fair share—no surprise there either—but he won’t say anything to her. She keeps complaining about being homesick for Lancaster, but that’s not an excuse to shirk her job and chores, and it’s driving me ab im kopp. She’s not the only one who’s missing home. I do too . . . sort of. I miss all the farmland and my friends. But I don’t miss the busyness of the tourists or my aunts’ and cousins’ unwanted advice, especially when they say they’re not surprised I’m still single because of my “personality.” I’m only twenty-six. There’s plenty of time to find a husband, right? Besides, they’re being hypocritical. Neither of them is married.
Ella lifted her pen from the page and looked at her last paragraph. She should mark it out in case anyone discovered her diary and read it. She didn’t write anything about her aunts and sister that wasn’t true, though. Aenti Tabitha and Aenti Cora had always been critical of her, and for some reason they never could resist throwing a dig or two at her lack of suitors. Junia was a dreamer and a flirt, and unlike Ella, she was obsessed with getting married. In fact, her sister had complained more about the lack of single men in Marigold than her yearning to go back to Lancaster. She should just go back if she’s so unhappy here.
But Junia didn’t actually seem to be unhappy. Just lazy and completely uninterested in helping her and Dad run the grocery store. And their father kept indulging her slothfulness. Anytime Ella pointed out her sister’s lacking work ethic, Junia just scoffed. “You’re so bossy, Ella. And seltsam. No wonder you’re not married yet.” It was the same thing her aunts had always said.
Ella tossed her pencil onto the diary page. She shouldn’t let Junia or her aunts get to her. Aenti Tabitha and Aenti Cora were in Lancaster and couldn’t influence her anymore. Instead, she should ask God to bring her sister a husband. Then she and Daed could hire someone who would do some work. More than once over the past three months, she’d proposed hiring another employee, but her father had vetoed that suggestion too. “We’re doing just fine,” he said in his usual slow, measured tone. And they were. But Ella didn’t want their business to be “just fine.” Not when it could be a huge success.
“Ella!”
She cringed at the sound of Junia’s whiny voice coming from downstairs. “What?” she hollered from her room.
The thudding sound of her sister’s fast footsteps grew closer. Ella quickly shut her diary and stuck it under the mattress of her twin bed.
Junia burst into the room. “Guess what?”
“You finally cleaned out the storage room at the store?”
Junia frowned, her large, round brown eyes growing wider. “Nee. Why would I do that?”
“Because I asked you to?”
“When?”
“Yesterday.” Ella stood up, adjusting the ties of her white apron and fighting the urge to roll her eyes. Junia only seemed to forget something when it was related to work. Otherwise, her mind was a steel trap. “It’s almost opening time,” she said, slipping on her navy blue cardigan. “Hurry up and tell me whatever you have to tell me.”
“Why are you always so crabby?” Her sister pouted, something else that drove Ella crazy but always made her father cave. She lifted her chin. “I’m not going to tell you now.”
“Fine.” Ella shoved her feet into her black tennis shoes and knelt to tie the laces.
Junia squatted beside her. “It looks like someone’s moving in next door.”
Shortly after they bought the store and arrived in Marigold, they purchased the Burkholders’ four-bedroom home across the street from the store. There wasn’t another house for at least two blocks or so. “Next door to our house?”
“Nee. The building next to the store. I saw two men get out of a taxi a few minutes ago. One of them—he’s kind of burly—had a key and opened the door. The other one . . .” Junia let out a dramatic sigh. “He’s so schee.”
Oh brother. Ella had never sighed over a man, schee or otherwise. She also didn’t appreciate her sister’s “burly” comment. What did it matter what the men looked like anyway?
Then her sister’s words sank in. The building had sold? Uh-oh. There went her plan for expansion. She bustled by Junia.
“Where are you going?” Junia trailed after her.
Ella bounded down the stairs, through the kitchen to the mudroom. She picked up the keys off a hook and tossed them to Junia. They hit her sister in the chest and dropped to the floor.
“What’d you do that for?” She bent over and snatched up the keys.
“You’re in charge until Daed finishes up the chores.” Ella cringed. “Don’t make me regret this. Fridays are always busy.”
She huffed. “I’m not a child, Ella. I know how to run the store.”
“Now you can prove it.” She opened the door. A cold draft of wind hit her in the face.
“Where are you going?” Junia called out from the doorway.
Ella whirled around. “To meet our new neighbors.”
* * *
Nelson shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and looked around the empty room. His brother Jesse, who had moved to Marigold almost a year and a half ago, told him about this place and encouraged him to check it out. But as had been his habit for more than a year now, he wondered if he was doing the right thing.
“Well? What do you think?”
His nephew Malachi appeared next to him. At twenty-four, Nelson was only two years older and considered Malachi more of a brother—and he had plenty of those. He looked around the area again. He’d learned from the Realtor that it used to be a warehouse and was a decade older than the grocery store next door. Pale morning light beamed through dusty windows into an expansive, empty room. The stairs in the back led to a loft, also covered in dust and cobwebs. There wasn’t a visible shred of evidence that anything was ever stored here. From what he could gather, the current owner bought it from the original one and had intended to turn it into a small house to rent out but never got around to it.
“Needs work,” he said, turning to Malachi. “A lot of work.”
Malachi nodded. His straw hat was pushed back from his head—wavy dark-blond hair curled around the bottoms of his ears. “Agreed. But nothing wrong with hard work, ya?”
