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  WILLOW: BRIDE OF PENNSYLVANIA

  Copyright ©2015 by Merry Farmer

  Amazon Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill (the miracle-worker)

  ASIN: B017GM1VLQ

  Paperback:

  ISBN-13: 9781518879401

  ISBN-10: 1518879403

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  Willow: Bride of Pennsylvania

  By Merry Farmer

  To all those brave enough to take a chance on a new life

  And to those who go back to their roots

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  September 15, 1890

  Dear Mr. Stoltzfus,

  My name is Willow Miller, and I am interested in becoming your bride.

  I saw your advertisement in The Grooms’ Gazette recently, and I feel as though we might be a good match. I’m not certain how to go about telling you this, other than writing this letter. But I see from your ad that you live in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, and with a surname like Stoltzfus, I wonder if you might have a connection to the Amish community. My grandfather was Amish, but left the community as a young man. I have always been interested in those roots of my family tree, which is why your advertisement caught my eye.

  There isn’t much to tell about me. I am twenty-two years old, my parents have passed on, and I have a brother and a sister, both of whom have moved out west. For the last two years, I have been living and working at Brown Textile Mill in Lawrence, Massachusetts. Unfortunately, there was a fire at the factory a few weeks ago, a fire that I’m sure was my fa and I find myself in need of a new situation. Truthfully, I need a change in my life. I would love to become a wife and mother, to live a simpler life, away from the fuss and noise of the city and the memories of my part in the fi.

  I am a good worker, quiet in nature, and of a cheerful disposition. If you would like to know more about me or think we might be a good match, please write back.

  Hopefully yours,

  Willow Miller

  September 20, 1890

  Dear Miss Miller,

  Thank you for your kind reply to my advertisement. I hope you won’t think me too forward for replying so quickly, but with the harvest at its peak and much work to do before winter sets in, I would like to find a bride as soon as possible.

  By the sound of your letter, I do believe we would make a contented team. While it’s true that I need a helpmeet to share the burden of work on my farm, I find myself longing for the soft, gentle companionship of a special woman. I would also very much like to start a family and fill my big, old house with the laughter of children. If you are willing to put your trust in a stranger such as me, I promise you I will treat you with the utmost kindness and respect, and that I will provide for and protect you and our children for the rest of our days.

  Also, you are correct to assume that I have a connection to the Amish. I was raised among the community here in Paradise. My parents left the church when I was fourteen after a disagreement over Pardon me for crossing that out. It is a topic best discussed in person… or not at all. Most of my closest neighbors are Amish, though we don’t speak.

  I believe you would like my farm. It has been in the family for generations. The house is old and sturdy, the barn is spacious and dry. I have an apple orchard on one side of the fields, a few small hills, and a pleasant stretch of woods with a creek that winds through it.

  As the oldest son, I inherited my father’s land when he and my mother passed away. I have a few siblings, but they have moved on to Ohio and New York, where farmland is more readily available. Besides, after the unpleasantness with our parents and the community, they didn’t want to Sorry, again, that’s better discussed in person. I’ve written too much already.

  Please let me know if you are definitely willing to become my wife and I will make arrangements and send you a train ticket right away.

  Sincerely,

  Amos Stoltzfus

  September 26, 1890

  Dear Mr. Stoltzfus,

  Yes, I most definitely would like to accept your offer of marriage, as fast as it is. I am eager to see your farm. It sounds like a lovely place. While I am sorry to hear that your parents have passed, I feel as though it gives us something in common. I too would like a large family with lots of children around me, and I promise to be as good of a helpmeet as I know how to be, though I warn you not to set your expectations to high. That is, I promise to do my best.

  I’m breathless with anticipation to start this new life with you. Thank you.

  Definitely yours,

  Willow

  October 2, 1890

  Dear Willow,

  Enclosed please find a train ticket that should take you from Lawrence, Massachusetts to Strasburg, Pennsylvania on October 6th. I will be waiting for you at the train station, wearing a blue shirt. Why don’t I bring a few apples from my orchard so that you can be sure I am me? I can’t imagine any other men would stand alone on a train platform holding apples. From the station, we can go straight to the courthouse to be married, so that there will be no impropriety in you moving straight into my house.

  I look forward to meeting you in person.

  Amos

  Willow caught her breath as the train slowed in its approach to the Strasburg station. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She could feel it as she clutched the handles of her worn, old carpetbag to her chest over her heart. This was it. Somehow, in less than a month, she’d gone from being an ordinary factory worker to the fiancé of a man she’d never met. By tonight, she would be his wife…and she had never even laid eyes on him.

  All that was about to change.

  “Strasburg,” the conductor called as he walked down the aisle from the front of Willow’s train car to the back. “Strasburg station.”

  The train rocked and jerked as it slowed, the pull of motion hitting Willow right in the stomach. She peeked past the sleepy matron who she shared the bench with to look out the window. She was sitting on the side of the train facing away from the platform, so she couldn’t see the people waiting, just the quaint town itself. Its whitewashed buildings and neat windows filled her with rare confidence.

  With a final puff of steam, the train stopped, and Willow stood, launching herself into the aisle. Other passengers stood as well—reaching for bags and trunks, quieting fussy children, and chattering with the friends and family they’d traveled with.
Willow continued to clutch her carpetbag to her chest, forcing herself to take deep breaths. This was a good decision, the best decision she’d made in her life. Being someone’s wife would give her the chance to redeem herself, to make up for the disaster she’d caused.

  Because the fire was her fault, no matter what her friends said.

  “You need to stop blaming yourself if you’re ever going to lead a happy life,” her friend Emma had advised her on the train platform in Lawrence, just the day before. Emma, Gillian, and Rose—the precious, wonderful friends who had been her roommates in the factory’s dormitory, then shared an apartment with her after the fire—had escorted her to the train station to wish her well as she set off for her new life.

  “There’s no proof that you caused the fire,” Gillian seconded.

  Willow went bright pink at the ease with which her friend showed her support. “There’s no proof that I didn’t cause it either,” Willow answered. “What if I left my work too close to the lamp? What if I didn’t clean my area properly? There was so much dust and fiber near the flame. You know how clumsy I can be. What if that clumsiness was the end of things this time?”

  As soon as she burst out with her worries, Rose stepped forward, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. From Rose, that was as good as a bear-hug. “I don’t think it was you. You’re more careful than you think you are and twice as competent.”

  “But what if—”

  “Don’t think about the past,” Gillian cut her off. “Think about the future.”

  “Yes,” Emma agreed. “This Amos sounds like a lovely gentleman, and well off, too. You're so lucky to have found a man of means who will provide for you.”

  “I suppose,” Willow replied. Her stomach fluttered with nerves. “As long as I don’t ruin things.”

  “You won’t,” Gillian said.

  “I just know you’ll be happy.” Rose smiled.

  “Me too,” Gillian agreed. “Now hurry along before the train leaves without you.”

  “Yes, hurry.” Emma took her arm, Gillian took her other one, and with Rose completing their group, they rushed to the train.

  That last goodbye had been over before Willow could blink. She’d hugged and kissed her friends, promised to write as much as possible, wished them well in their own search for a better future, then hopped onto the train. Granted, she missed one of the steps, tripped, knocked her shin and dropped her carpetbag as she did, but the conductor had been there to help her.

  He was there to help her now as she inched her way down the aisle to the back of the train and the steps that would take her down to the Strasburg platform and on to a whole new world. Her heart beat so thunderously in her chest that it made her dizzy.

  “Watch yourself there, missy,” the conductor said with a knowing wink. He took her arm and helped her descend the stairs. She blushed, but secretly, Willow was glad for the help.

  And then she was there. Hardly able to breathe through her fear, Willow took a few steps across the wooden platform to get out of the way of the other passengers disembarking. She scanned the area, looking for Amos Stoltzfus. The platform was crowded with farmers and businessmen, women in calico and matrons wrapped in shawls to keep out the early-October chill. There were several Amish men and women as well. A strange tug of curiosity and longing struck Willow’s heart at the sight of the women in their plain dresses and white prayer kapps, men with straw hats and suspenders. The sight of them calmed her by a fraction, as did the fact that they stared at her as much as she stared at them.

  “Willow Miller?”

  Willow caught her breath and turned with a start. A numb buzz swept through her body as she caught sight of a man walking toward her. He was tall with broad shoulders and arms that stretched the fabric of his simple blue shirt. He was clean-shaven, with walnut-brown hair and hazel eyes that crinkled as he smiled. His clothes were similar to the Amish men on the platform, but just different enough to mark that he was not one of them. All-in-all, he was a very handsome man. And he held three apples in one of his large hands.

  “Willow?” he asked a second time.

  Willow opened her mouth to reply, but only a squeak came out. She wouldn’t let herself ruin things so soon. Instead, she nodded vigorously, face hot with a blush, until she found her voice. “Yes. Amos Stoltzfus?”

  His smile widened. “That’s me.” He paused, shifted his weight, studied her for a moment, then said, “Well, that wasn’t as difficult as I worried it could be.”

  “Oh?” She swallowed. He had been worried? Had he somehow gotten wind of her reputation for ineptitude?

  He reached for her carpetbag with his free hand. “I thought maybe there would be so many people on the platform I wouldn’t be able to find you, or that I would search and search and you would be standing right in front of me, disappointed. Or that you would change your mind and not come,” he added in a quieter voice. “Apple?”

  The tight fluttering in Willow’s heart resolved into a warm, melting sensation. He had been worried she would change her mind, not that she was a mess. How…how sweet of him.

  “I made a promise to you, Mr. Stoltzfus. I would never go back on that. Of course I am here to marry you.” She gave him her best smile and surrendered her carpetbag, reaching for the apples. “Let me take those.”

  He gripped her carpetbag firmly, but as she moved to take the apples from his hand, she fumbled them, dropping one to the platform with a thunk.

  “Oh dear,” she squeaked, flushing scarlet, and leaned over to scoop up the fallen apple. Amos bent for it at the same time, and their heads knocked together.

  As nervous as Amos was to meet the woman that would be his wife by sundown, he couldn’t help but laugh when their heads collided. It hurt, but it was just the sort of thing he needed to remind him that everything in his world didn’t need to be perfect all the time.

  “Are you all right?” he chuckled, putting a hand on Willow’s arm as she retrieved the lost apple and stood.

  “I think so,” she whispered, not meeting his eyes.

  A bolt of something tender and protective shot through him. He was honest enough to admit he’d been relieved to discover the woman he’d been corresponding with was pretty—in an unassuming, delicate way—but his heart leapt at the revelation that she was charming and modest too.

  “I shouldn’t have handed the apples over so fast.” He took the blame for the little accident, hoping to make her feel better, then gestured for her to walk with him off the platform to where his wagon was parked. “Sorry about that.”

  “I…I should have mentioned that I’m a bit clumsy,” she replied, still not looking at him. “It causes trouble sometimes.” If she grew any redder, she’d turn into one of the apples she held in her hands.

  “You’ve no need to worry about anything like that with me.” Amos grinned, closing a hand around her elbow to help her down the steps at the edge of the platform. “I’m very forgiving of mistakes.”

  His grin faltered as they crossed a patch of grass to where his wagon was parked. Was he? Was he really forgiving where he should be? His neighbors probably didn’t think so. An old twist of conscience that he’d been fighting for years nipped at him.

  He cleared his throat and set Willow’s carpetbag in the back of his wagon. Today was not the day to go thinking about old wounds. Today was a day to rejoice, to thank God for His guidance, and to welcome the future.

  “Here,” he said and offered a hand. “Let me hold those so you can get up into the wagon.” He reached for the apples. “Unless you’re hungry.”

  At last, her shoulders dropped and she let out a breath. “I am a little hungry. They didn’t give us much time to find lunch at our stop in Philadelphia.”

  “Then by all means, have an apple.” He took two back, stuffing them in his pockets for the moment, leaving her with one to snack on. Then, without waiting for more conversation, he closed his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the wagon bench.

  Sh
e had a slender waist—almost too slender, as if she hadn’t eaten enough—and for a moment, it crossed Amos’s mind that he would like to hold her closer. All in good time. There was an order and progression in life that had to be maintained.

  With a smile of reassurance, he walked around to the other side of the wagon and hopped up to take a seat beside Willow. Before he reached for the reins, he pulled the apples out of his pocket and set them on the bench between them. Then he snapped the reins across Jethro’s back and turned the wagon onto Strasburg’s main street.

  “The courthouse is on the other side of town,” he explained in a low, almost bashful voice. Inwardly, he shook his head at himself. There was no reason to be shy. Both he and Willow knew what they had signed on for. He’d felt in the center of his heart that putting an advertisement in The Grooms’ Gazette was the right thing to do. It was a far better choice than spending another day alone on that big farm, his family long gone, his neighbors as distant as if they lived clean on the other side of the continent. No, he should be singing, not worrying.

  “We’re heading straight there?” Willow took one bite of her apple, then lowered it to her lap, swallowing as if it—or her stomach—was sour.

  “I thought it would be best.”

  For a moment, she was silent. Amos needed to concentrate to weave through Strasburg’s midday traffic, but he could feel Willow’s eyes on him, studying him. He hoped he measured up. At last she drew in a breath and said, “Yes. Yes, you’re right. It’s best that we go to the courthouse first.”