A Sister's Test (12 page)

“Or you could try the
Bargain Hunter
,” he suggested. “Might have better luck there.”

“That’s a good idea. Maybe I’ll run an ad in both papers.”

Luke moved away from the building. “Guess I’d better go. Just came by to check on a bridle Abe’s making for my daed. Now I’ve got a delivery to make for John.”

“How are things going with you working for him?” she asked.

“Compared to your daed, John’s real easy to work for.” He averted his gaze. “Guess I shouldn’t be saying this, but working for your daed every day was like going to the dentist to get a root canal.”

Martha bristled. As much as she liked Luke, she didn’t care for him saying things against her dad. “From what I hear, you weren’t so easy to work with, either.”

Luke shook his head. “Your daed didn’t like that I had my own ideas about how things should be done. He blamed me for Steven Bates’s cabinets falling off the wagon, and it wasn’t even my fault.”
“It doesn’t matter who did what or who said what. My daed let you go and you should accept that.”

His eyes narrowed. “Who says I’m not?”

“You wouldn’t try to get even with Dad, would you?”

“No way. I’d never do that, no matter how much he might irritate me.”

A sense of relief flooded Martha’s soul. “I didn’t think you would try to get even, but we’ve had a few more incidents at our place this week, so—”

“What’s been done?”

“A stink bomb was thrown into our barn, and then our house, barn, and Dad’s shop got toilet-papered.”

Luke frowned. “Sounds like some pranksters to me. I heard there was some toilet-papering done at one of the schoolhouses near Berlin the other day.”

“Dad thought it might be pranksters at first, but then he mentioned that he thought it could have been—”

“Me?”

She nodded.

“Puh! I’ve got better things to do than make stink bombs and spread TP all over the place.” Luke started walking toward his buggy.

Martha was more certain than ever that Luke wasn’t the one responsible for any of the attacks. The only question unanswered—who
was
responsible?

As Martin headed down the road in his buggy, his stomach twisted as though it were tied in knots. He’d come to a decision about his relation-ship with Ruth, and this evening he planned to talk to her about it.

When he arrived at the Hostettlers’, he spotted Ruth sitting in the glider under the maple tree in the backyard, reading a book. He halted the buggy, secured his horse to the hitching rail, and sprinted across the lawn.

“I’m surprised to see you,” Ruth said as he approached her. “I didn’t know you’d be coming by this evening.”

He licked his lips, and the knot in his stomach tightened. “I thought
I would surprise you.”

“You did that, all right.” She set the book aside and patted the cushion beside her. “Would you like to join me?”

Martin took a seat. “I. . .uh. . .need to talk to you about something.” He removed his straw hat and twisted the edge of the brim.

“Are you all right? You seem kind of
naerfich
.”

“I am feeling a bit nervous.”

“How come?”

“Well. . .I. . .” He scooted a bit closer. “I know we haven’t been courting very long, but I’ve come to care about you.”

“I care about you, too.”

“Enough to be honest with me?”

“Of course.”

He drummed his fingers along the armrest of the glider. “Remember that day at the pond when you said you knew about the truck Toby and Sadie found in the woods?”

She nodded.

“You acted like you knew who owned the truck, but you didn’t seem to want to talk about it.”

She stared at her lap, and her chin trembled slightly. “I. . .uh. . .do know who owns the truck, but I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Does it belong to someone I know?”

“Jah.”

He reached for her hand. “If we’re going to have a close relationship, then I don’t think we should keep secrets from each other, do you?”

She slowly shook her head.

“I’d like to know who owns that truck.”

Ruth’s forehead creased. “If I tell, will you promise not to repeat it to anyone?”

“Jah, if you don’t want me to.”

“The truck belongs to Luke.”

“Luke Friesen?”

“Jah. He keeps it hidden there so his folks won’t know.”

Martin groaned. “I knew Luke was still going through rumschpringe, but I had no idea he owned a truck. Doesn’t it seem strange that he would keep it hidden—especially since many Amish young
people openly own cars?”

Ruth nodded. “The fact that he kept secrets from me and wouldn’t settle down and join the church was the reason I broke up with him.”

Martin brushed his thumb back and forth across the top of her hand. “I can’t say that I’m glad Luke’s not settled down, but I am glad you broke up with him.” He swallowed a couple of times. “I. . .uh. . . have another question I’d like to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Will you be my wife?”

Her mouth hung slightly open. “You—you want to marry me?”

He nodded. “I love you, Ruth. I know it’s sudden, but I feel a strong need to make you my wife as soon as possible.”

A blush of pink cascaded over her cheeks.

“It’s not just a physical need,” he was quick to say. “It’s a sense of urgency I can’t explain.”

“I—I don’t understand.”

“I have a feeling that if we don’t get married soon, we might never marry.”

“Is it because you’re worried about the attacks against my family? Are you afraid something will happen to me?”

He nodded. “Could we be married this fall—maybe early October?”

She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Most couples have a longer courtship than that.”

“I know.” He squeezed her fingers. “Will you at least give some consideration to my proposal?”

“I don’t need to consider the proposal, Martin.” A smile spread across Ruth’s face as a flicker of light danced in her dark eyes. “I’d be honored to marry you.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Shall we go inside and discuss this with my folks? I want to be sure we have their approval.”

“Maybe it would be better if you talked to them alone. In case they don’t approve of you marrying me.”

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t approve.”

“Jah, okay.”

When Ruth and Martin stepped into the kitchen, Ruth spotted her parents sitting at the table, each reading a section of the newspaper. Her throat felt so swollen she wasn’t sure she could speak. What if they didn’t approve of her marrying Martin? What if Mom and Dad wanted them to wait until they’d been courting longer?

Martin squeezed Ruth’s hand, and the warmth of his fingers gave her the confidence she needed. “Mom, Dad. Martin and I have something we’d like to tell you.”

“What’s that?” Mom asked, glancing up from her paper. She smiled at Martin. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too,” he replied.

Dad merely grunted as he kept reading the paper.

Ruth shifted uneasily. “Martin has asked me to marry him.”

“What?” Mom and Dad said in unison.

Dad dropped his paper to the table, and Mom reached to steady the glass of iced tea sitting before her.

“I’ve asked Ruth to be my wife.” Martin gave Ruth’s fingers another squeeze. “She said she’s willing—that is, if you approve.”

Dad squinted as he leveled Martin with a most serious look. “I have no objections to you courting my daughter, but I think it’s too soon for you to be thinking about marriage.”

Ruth opened her mouth to comment, but Martin spoke first. “I love Ruth, and I’d like us to be married as soon as possible.”

Dad held up his hand. “What’s the rush?”

Martin moved closer to the table. “I—I feel a sense of urgency to marry her.”

“He’s worried something will happen to me,” Ruth quickly explained.

Mom’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked at Martin. “Why would you think that?”

“All the things that have happened in our community lately have made me realize life is fragile, and one never knows when they’ll lose someone they love.”

“Are you thinking about Abe losing Alma?” Dad asked.

Martin nodded. “That’s part of it. I’m also concerned about all the attacks on your family. If Ruth and I were married, she would be in my care.”

A muscle in Dad’s cheek twitched rhythmically. “Are you saying I haven’t cared well for my fraa and
dechder
?”

Martin’s face flamed. “I’m not saying that at all. I’m sure you’re doing a fine job caring for your wife and daughters.”

“I do my best,” Dad mumbled.

Mom reached over and patted his arm. “Of course you do, Roman.”

Ruth cleared her throat. “Do you have any objections to Martin and I being married in October?”

“I think it would be better if you waited until November,” Mom said. “That will give us time to get some celery planted, make your wedding dress, and get everything done before the wedding.”

“It will give you more time for courting, too,” Dad put in.

Ruth looked at Martin and was relieved when he nodded and said, “November it’ll have to be, then.”

She smiled and bent to hug her mother. “Where’s Martha? I want to share our good news with her.”

“Out in the barn with those dogs of hers,” Dad said with a scowl. “Where else would she be?”

Ruth kissed her father’s forehead. “Danki, Dad.” Then she grabbed Martin’s hand, and they rushed out the door.

O
n a Friday morning two weeks later, Ruth stepped out of the house to hitch a horse to her buggy and discovered a message in bold black letters written on the side of their barn. It read Y
OU’LL
P
AY
!

“Oh no,” she gasped as a shiver zipped up her spine. “Who could have done this? Why would they do such a thing?”

Ruth rushed around the corner of the house, knowing her father was probably heading to his shop by now. That’s when she saw her mother’s garden. All of the plants had been destroyed.

“Ach! My celery!” she screamed.

Dad rushed toward her then, his eyes wild. “What’s all the yelling about?”

“Look over there!” Ruth’s hand shook as she pointed to her mother’s garden. “Someone’s ruined all our plants, and—and they wrote a threatening message on the side of the barn.”

Dad’s eyebrows furrowed. “What message?”

“You mean you haven’t seen it yet?”

He shook his head.

“Come see for yourself.” Ruth led the way to the barn and halted in front of the message. “Who could have written such a thing, and what would someone think we need to pay for?”

“Not
we
,” he said with a shake of his head. “It’s me that’s being targeted; I’m sure of it.”

“But why? What have you done that would make someone want to ruin our garden and paint a hateful message on the barn?”

Dad moaned as he bent to pick up an empty can of spray paint.
“Several people might be carrying a grudge against me—Steven Bates, Luke, and that land developer who wanted to buy our property.”

“But the land developer left our area some time ago, Dad.”

He nodded. “That’s true.”

“You don’t think it could be the English reporter who used to date Grace, do you? Maybe it’s her he’s trying to get even with, not you.”