Her New Amish Family - Carrie Lighte Amish Country Courtships

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his family. Passionate emotional attachment wasn’t important to Seth; compatibility, commitment and common sense were. He and Eleanor had found those qualities in each other and their marriage had been a strong and happy one.

      With Martha caring for the boys after Eleanor’s death, Seth felt little need to remarry at all, which was why he hadn’t courted anyone in the over four years since Timothy and Tanner were born. But now, given his groossmammi’s declining vision, he understood the wisdom in Eleanor’s request. The boys needed someone to care for them. Not just a teenage maedel and certainly not just an Englischer for a few months. They needed a permanent mother figure.

      As Martha tottered along beside him, Seth figured maybe his grandmother was right; now that Trina would be watching the boys he’d have more time to work on finding a wife. Meanwhile, he hoped Trina’s Englisch ways wouldn’t unduly influence his sons. Seth was going to have to keep a close eye on her.

      The prospect should have troubled him more than it did. Maybe he’d let his guard down because Martha had taken an instant liking to Trina, but Seth was oddly amused by the skinny woman with mischievous eyes and a musical voice, and he rather enjoyed trying to get a rise out of her. How much influence could she have on his family in two months anyway?

       Chapter Two

      After Seth and Martha left, Trina washed the cups and began unpacking her suitcase. It didn’t take long. By the time she moved out of her apartment, she’d either sold or given away nearly all of her belongings and she only had a few outfits that were suitable to wear in Amish country. It wouldn’t be appropriate to dress like the Amish, but out of respect for the people she was living among she decided she’d wear dresses or skirts instead of slacks or jeans. Unfortunately, she only owned one dress and three skirts—one of which was now very dirty.

      The only nonclothing items she’d brought were a framed photograph and her cell phone and solar battery charger. The photo was of her and her mother and it had been taken on a beach when they went to Cape Cod for a rare week of vacation the summer before Patience got sick. Trina had other photos saved digitally, but it was this printed one she cherished the most. In it, they were both smiling, healthy and tan, and their cheeks touched as they leaned together in a sideways embrace. One rainy afternoon as Trina and her mother strolled through the art galleries, admiring the paintings and sculptures they couldn’t afford, they’d come across an ornate picture frame. Handmade from small pieces of aqua, green and blue sea glass the artist found on the bayside, the frame reminded Trina of the ocean itself. That Christmas, Trina’s mother presented her with the frame as a gift. Trina never knew how she managed to pay for it or sneak away to buy it, but combined with the photo it held, it was Trina’s one and only prized possession.

      She considered keeping the photo on the dresser in her room, so it could be the first thing she saw when she awoke, but then she decided she wanted to put it in a more visible area, somewhere she could see it all the time and draw strength from the memory. She carried it into the parlor and placed it prominently on the end table next to the sofa.

      Then she considered where to store her cell phone. It wasn’t as if she’d be receiving any calls. Trina had moved to a new suburb shortly before her mother was diagnosed with cancer. She was acquainted with other teachers there but she hadn’t begun to make friends. And the church she attended was so big no one there was likely to notice her absence. Yet, knowing she’d probably need to be in touch with a realtor as well as the estate attorney her grandfather hired, Trina had purchased a solar panel charger to power her phone. She decided to set it up on the windowsill in Abe’s old bedroom, where it would get plenty of sunshine but be out of her way.

      Exhausted from cleaning her apartment, packing up and traveling, Trina changed into her nightgown. She slipped beneath the quilt, which smelled of fresh winter air—Martha must have hung it on the clothesline—and shut her eyes, thinking of how protected she felt when Seth carried her to the porch. Within minutes she drifted into a deep slumber for the first time in over a year.

      She woke to a banging on the door. Disoriented, she blinked several times at her surroundings. It was morning. She was in Willow Creek. The fire must have died out because the floor made her feet ache with cold. She wrapped the quilt around her shoulders and shuffled to the door. Peeking out the window, she saw Seth pacing back and forth. Oh no! I was supposed to be at his house by seven forty-five so he could review the rules for the children with me.

      “It’s eight o’clock,” Seth said in greeting. “Look at you, you’re not even dressed yet.”

      Trina pulled her quilt tighter around her shoulders. She understood the Amish didn’t place a high value on physical appearance, except for tidiness and modesty. She could only imagine how rumpled she appeared. “I’m so sorry. I must have overslept.”

      “I thought you Englischers relied on alarm clocks.”

      Rankled, she cracked, “I figured the Amish rooster would wake me.”

      Something resembling a grin crinkled the skin around Seth’s eyes, but he didn’t allow it to move to his lips. “Just kumme to my house as soon as you can.”

      She pulled on her clothes, brushed her hair into a ponytail and quickly scrubbed her teeth before running across the yard. When she arrived, she apologized again. “I really am sorry I’m late. I didn’t mean to oversleep.”

      Seth seemed less cantankerous now. “It’s alright. Fresh air can tucker a person out.” There it was again; the kind of comment that made her wonder if he was joking or not.

      “Guder mariye, Trina,” Martha said as she entered the room, her hands extended in front of her so as not to bump into anything. It seemed she only used her cane outdoors. Timothy and Tanner scooted around their grandmother, calling out their greetings, as well. Their curls bounced as they hopped up and down, unable to contain their excitement.

      “Guder mariye,” Trina replied to the three of them.

      “We’re going to show you the creek today,” Tanner announced.

      “Neh, I don’t want you by the creek,” Seth contradicted. “It’s too dangerous. The current is too strong.”

      The boys looked crestfallen but they didn’t argue. Didn’t they tell Trina they’d been to the creek just yesterday? It hadn’t rained, so the water couldn’t be any deeper. Then she realized Seth must not trust her with the children yet. She understood. In time, he’d change his mind.

      “I’m sure we’ll do something else that’s just as interesting,” Trina said.

      “Jah, so will you and I,” Martha chimed in. “When they take a nap, you can look through my fabric to choose what you want to make a new skirt since yours became stained yesterday.”

      Trina appreciated the offer, but she had no idea how to make a skirt. “Oh, that’s alright. The stain will come out. My skirt is still wearable.”

      “With the way you’ll be running after the buwe, it won’t hurt to have an extra one,” Martha said. “If it’s the material you’re worried about, don’t be concerned. I have an assortment of colors. Blue, green, even burgundy. I haven’t been able to see well enough to sew for ages. It will be gut to know the fabric isn’t going to waste.”

      “I don’t think it’s the color of the fabric she’s worried about, Groossmammi,” Seth quietly pointed out. “The Englisch don’t sew like we do.”

      Trina bristled. Why did Seth constantly call attention to how different the Englisch were from the Amish? “Don’t be lecherich. Plenty of Englischers sew their own clothes.” She used a couple of Deitsch words to emphasize she wasn’t completely unaware of Amish culture.

      “And you’re one of them?” Seth pressed.

      Trina

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