The Marriage Pact (Amish of Marigold #3)

Chapter 1

Mid-April

Dover, Delaware

“Did you enjoy the pot roast, Maynard?” Daisy Hershberger perched on the edge of the couch, waiting for him to lower the newspaper

in front of his face and answer her.

“Uh-huh.” Seated in a comfortable chair across from her, he crossed his legs and turned the page.

A cozy fire crackled in the wood fireplace, and the scents of the supper Daisy had spent the afternoon making lingered in

the air. Everything had been done from scratch, down to the yeasty rolls and flaky pie pastry. She loved cooking, and she’d

heard one time that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, or something like that. Maynard ate every crumb, but

he was so quiet and reserved, she still wasn’t sure if he enjoyed the meal.

She glanced at the wicker basket on the floor near the sofa where she kept her cross-stitch supplies—aida cloth, a case of colorful embroidery floss, several wooden hoops in various sizes, a packet of needles, and tiny scissors. Her current project was a scripture verse for her older sister’s birthday, and she was almost finished. In fact, she could wrap it up tonight if she went back to work on it while Maynard read the paper.

While she liked the coziness of them being together, basking in the warmth of the living room fireplace inside the house she

lived in with her parents, her mind wasn’t on cross-stitch, and she didn’t want Maynard to read the paper. She wanted him

to sit next to her on the couch—the closer the better. Even though her parents were in the kitchen playing checkers and could

walk in at any time, she yearned for him to put his arm around her and kiss her on the temple or— gasp! —on the cheek. If her parents saw, so be it. It wasn’t exactly a secret that she liked, nay loved, Maynard Miller.

Except, apparently, to him.

Daisy sighed and waited for him to notice her frustrated exhale.

He didn’t move. Just kept reading, the paper blocking her view of his face.

She tried conversation again. “Were the mashed potatoes creamy enough?”

“ Ya .”

“What about the peach pie? Was that gut ?”

He flipped down one corner of the paper, his reddish eyebrows flat over pale blue eyes behind silver-framed glasses. “I already

said it was, right after I ate it.”

“Oh. That’s right.”

Maynard went back to reading, and Daisy returned to fretting. It had taken almost three weeks to sync up their schedules so he could come over for supper. He always had an excuse for refusing her invitations. He was too busy at work. He had to get up early in the morning for work. He needed to do more work. And she had no reason to doubt he was telling the truth. He was a carpenter for the number one furniture maker in Dover, Delaware, and they were busy year-round. Their hickory rockers alone had a two-year waiting list.

But every time she was about to give up on him, he would surprise her. Like tonight. When she made a final attempt to get

him to come over, he’d easily agreed. It was because of those times that she still held hope that someday, one day, he would

come to his senses and realize they were meant to be together. In the meantime, she had to do her part to stoke the flame

he kept neglecting.

“Maynard?” she asked tentatively.

After a long pause he said, “What?”

Surely, he wasn’t annoyed with her. She had cleaned the house until it shone, had cooked his favorite meal, had fixed warm

apple cider and brought it to him, made sure the fire was the perfect temperature, and when he pointed at the newspaper on

the coffee table, she’d handed it to him. Maybe that had been her mistake. If she had told him no, he would be forced to at

least look at her.

Who was she kidding? She never told Maynard no. In the eighteen months she’d known him after he and his family had moved to

Dover from upstate New York, she had always said yes. She wished that someday soon she could give him the ultimate yes after

he asked her to marry him. Of course, they would have to hold hands first. And share a kiss or two, at the very least. There

would be plenty of hand-holding, snuggling, kissing and... other things ... after their wedding. Sigh.

He yanked the paper onto his lap. “Are you ill, Daisy?”

“What? Nee , I’m fine.”

“You’re not acting like it.”

Then maybe you should take my temperature. Slowly. Her cheeks flamed. But the idea of Maynard gently touching her forehead with the back of his hand, then lightly stroking her cheek as he gazed into her eyes—

“You’re acting seltsam .” He put his feet on the floor, the newspaper rustling as he moved. “Are you sure you’re not sick?”

She nodded and folded her hands on her lap, disappointed he hadn’t noticed her new emerald-green dress or how it brought out

her hazel eyes. At least she thought it did. She couldn’t exactly ask her parents that question without them thinking she

was, um, seltsam . “Do you like my dress?”

He quickly glanced at her. “Looks like the rest of your dresses.”

“Nice?”

Maynard lifted the paper again. “Suitable.”

She muzzled her annoyance. For the umpteenth time, she reminded herself that he was the man God had set apart for her. She

knew it the moment he and his parents had walked into church service that fateful Sunday morning. Her knees turned wobbly

at the sight of him, and she couldn’t concentrate on the singing or the sermon. At the age of twenty-five she had finally,

finally experienced what her siblings, friends, and cousin Grace already had—the excitement of falling in love. In church, of all

places! But it made sense, because Maynard was heaven-sent.

Sometimes it was hard to keep that fact in mind. Like when he was consumed with work, or how he always left with his parents

immediately after church service was over, eliminating any possibility of him taking her home or just going for a buggy ride.

She had to be going about this all wrong, thinking that being subtle would get his attention. She’d never made any overt romantic overtures toward him, although she had few opportunities to do so. At her request, he’d taken her home a couple of times when their small singles group met once a month to do community service activities. Those rides had been quiet. But nice too. She always enjoyed a good buggy ride.

She also assumed it was the man’s place to get the romance ball rolling. That’s what her sisters said when they met their

husbands. Her cousin Grace had mentioned the same thing in the letters she wrote to Daisy after she met her fiancé, Kyle.

She could ask her brother, Nathan, if that were true for all men. He was also married, but talking about romantic stuff with

him seemed kind of icky. He was almost ten years older than her, and they weren’t exactly close.

Maynard was a bit different from other men she knew. What if he was waiting on her to make the first move? His shyness had

to be getting in the way of moving their relationship forward. I should have realized that before now.

Time to test the waters. Wiping her damp palms on her dress, she said, “Uh, Maynard—”

“Now this is interesting.” He tapped the paper. “They’re calling for an extra-hot summer this year. Probably a record breaker.”

“Maynard—”

“Then again, they’ve always predicted record-breaking winters, and we’ve had normal ones for the past five years.”

“Would you... um...” She swallowed. Talking about love was harder than she thought. “Um...”

He glanced at the clock on the wall, then frowned. “It’s that late?”

She looked at the time. Barely seven o’clock.

He folded the paper and put it on the coffee table.

She jumped from the sofa. “You’re leaving already?”

His brows furrowed, as if she were speaking a foreign language. “It’s past seven, Daisy,” he said as he stood up.

“But you just got here!”

Maynard adjusted his glasses. “You know I like to be in bed by eight.”

She couldn’t let him leave now, not when she was mustering the courage to tell him they needed to take their relationship to the next level. And pronto.

True love was worth the wait, but she was getting tired of waiting.

“How are things going?” Mamm came into the living room, a tight smile on her face. Daed appeared right behind her.

“I was just telling Daisy that I have an early morning tomorrow.”

Daisy pinched her lips together. There was no point in trying to change his mind. He was resolute about his eight o’clock

bedtime. Besides, her mother and father were looking at them strangely, making her suspect something might be amiss. In a

last-ditch effort for some kind of connection, she purposely brushed her pinky finger against his.

“ Danki for supper,” he said to Mamm in his usual monotone voice. If he’d noticed Daisy had touched him, he didn’t draw attention to it.

“Daisy made it all.” Mamm ’s stressed look gave way to a genuine smile. “She’s quite the cook.”

He didn’t acknowledge Mamm ’s compliment as he picked up his hat from the rack by the door and placed it on his mop of bright red hair.

“Drive home safe, Maynard.” Daed tapped Mamm on the shoulder and they went back to the kitchen.

Disappointed, Daisy walked with Maynard to the front door as he put on his coat. Despite it being early spring, the evenings

were still cold. She took his scarf off the rack and handed it to him, watching for any kind of reaction to her secret pinky

touch as he wrapped the navy blue flannel around his neck. Nothing. Maybe she had brushed his finger too lightly. She hadn’t

felt anything either.

“Good night, Daisy.”

Their eyes easily met since they were the same height, around five six. “When will I see you again?” Ugh, she sounded desperate, but she couldn’t help it. Soon. Please, make it soon.

“Depends on my work schedule.” He opened the door, letting in a rush of cold air that instantly cooled her cheeks. “I’ll let

you know.”

“Okay.”

But he was already halfway down the porch steps. As she always did when he left her house, she watched him drive down the

driveway. Only when he was out of her sight did she close the door and press her forehead against it. Why didn’t anyone tell me love was so hard?

Then the perfect solution hit her out of the blue. Yes, that was the answer to their problem. Loving Maynard was difficult,

but that was going to change, and now she knew exactly how to make that happen.

“Daisy.”

She spun around and saw her mother standing there, tugging on the handkerchief in her hand. “Is something wrong?” Daisy asked.

“ Nee , nee ,” Mamm said a little too quickly. “Nothing’s wrong. With me, anyway. Why don’t we sit down.”

Daisy silently complied and sat next to her on the sofa. While she waited for her mother to speak, Mamm kept fiddling with

her handkerchief, finally shoving the balled-up fabric into the pocket of her apron. “How did things geh with you and Maynard tonight?”

“ Gut .” They could have gone better, though. And they would the next time she saw him.

“You didn’t say that with much enthusiasm.”

Oops. She gave Mamm a bright smile, and it wasn’t too forced. “Sorry. I just have some things on my mind.”

Her mother’s expression turned wary. “What things?”

Daisy took a deep breath and blurted the truth, even though she was sure her mother already knew it. “I love Maynard.”

“Oh dear,” Mamm mumbled.

Or maybe her mother didn’t know how she felt about him. First Maynard, now Mamm . Daisy hadn’t realized she’d kept her feelings so locked up. She thought she was an open book.

Mamm ’s smile looked strained. “How do you know?”

“I’ve always known.” Her smile widened. “And now I know something else.”

“What’s that?”

“I need to tell him how I feel.”

Her mother reached for her pocket, then clenched her hands together on her lap. “What if he doesn’t return your feelings?”

“I’m sure he will.”

“Then you two have been dating all along?” Mamm looked confused. “I thought... hoped you were just friends.”

“We are.”

“Then it’s possible he doesn’t love you.”

She wasn’t going to let a small detail derail her. “How would he know if we’ve never talked about it?”

“Oh, Daisy, you’re not thinking this through.”

“I’ll geh see him after work tomorrow and we’ll have ‘the talk.’”

“Tomorrow?” Mamm said weakly.

“Once I tell him how I feel, God will do the rest.” She beamed.

“Don’t you think you’re being presumptuous?”

She thought she heard panic in her mother’s tone, but she had to be imagining it. Her parents had always been supportive of

her and Maynard. Well, maybe supportive wasn’t the precise word, but they never said no when she told them he was coming over

for supper or commented when he drove her home.

But Daisy was too excited to pay complete attention to her mother’s words. All she could think about was surprising Maynard

after work and having “the talk” with him. Then they would officially be a couple.

“What’s the hurry?” Mamm held up her palms. “I’m sure your conversation can wait a little while. A few days... months. A year or two, even.”

She let out a long-suffering sigh. “ Mamm , I’ve been patient. I also think I’ve been too much of a friend to Maynard and not enough of a girlfriend.”

“But—”

She popped up from the couch, excited that she would finally get what she’d yearned for—Maynard’s love. And kisses. Don’t forget the kisses.

“Daisy—”

“ Gute nacht , Mamm !” She danced to the stairs and floated up to her room. Her whole life was about to change, and she couldn’t wait.

***

Daisy woke up the next morning primed and ready to talk to Maynard. She decided last night that being straightforward was

best, although she did briefly entertain being coy and flirtatious, only to nix the idea because she had no clue how to flirt

or be coy. She couldn’t risk making a mistake at this critical juncture in their relationship.

When she entered the kitchen, she was surprised to see her mother and father at the table, and they weren’t eating breakfast.

By now, Mamm would be frying up her father’s favorites—scrambled eggs, a thick slice of ham, and three pieces of buttered toast.

“ Gute mariye .” Daed ’s smile was strained and Mamm was practically stretching her handkerchief to the breaking point. “Have a seat.”

Alarmed, Daisy sat. “Is something wrong?”

Her parents exchanged a look before her father spoke. “We just need to talk to you, that’s all.”

“Before breakfast?” Now she was positive something was wrong. Her father was a stickler about his morning meal.

“We have some news,” Mamm said, looking a little less stressed, although that might be because Daed was holding her hand now. “ Aenti Rosella wants you to help her plan Grace’s wedding.”

Daisy grinned, no longer concerned. She loved planning weddings, and from all accounts, she was good at it. She excelled at

organization, from her bedroom to her schoolwork to her cross-stitch supplies, and she had helped plan her four older sisters’

nuptials. When she started her part-time job at the local scratch-and-dent store three years ago, she had taken charge of

keeping the stockroom neat and orderly—not always the easiest task.

“That is wonderful,” Daisy said. “I can’t wait to help her and Grace this summer.”

Mamm shook her head. “She wants to plan it now. In Marigold.”

“Okay. When do I leave?”

“This morning.”

Stunned, she looked at both her parents. “I can’t geh today. I have to let Mr. Brickman know I need time off.”

“Already done,” Mamm blurted. “He said to take all the time you want.”

Daisy frowned. “When did he say that?”

“I called him thirty minutes ago.”

“But the store doesn’t open until eight.”

“I have his personal number, remember? In case of emergencies?”

This didn’t seem like an emergency to Daisy. And she didn’t understand why she had to leave today instead of tomorrow, or

next week, or even in June or July, when it would make the most sense. “Isn’t the wedding in November?”

“It’s been over two years since you and Grace have seen each other,” Mamm said, standing up with Daed . “It will take time to figure everything out. I’ll fix breakfast while you pack. The taxi’s coming to get you in two hours.”

“Two hours?” Daisy shook her head. “I have to talk to Maynard—”

“Rosella and Grace need your help.” Daed was stern as he gestured for Daisy to get up. As soon as she did, her parents herded her out of the kitchen toward the living

room to the staircase.

“You know how picky Grace can be,” Mamm said.

“Since when?” Her cousin was the most laid-back person Daisy knew.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, she turned and faced them. Lowering her voice, she leaned close to Mamm . “I’m having ‘the talk’ today, remember?”

Something flickered in Mamm ’s eyes. “I’ll tell him you said goodbye.”

“But—”

“I reserved a ticket for you,” Daed said. “It will be at the bus station.”

“You don’t want to let your aenti and cousin down, do you?” Mamm said.

Ugh. There it was. Guilt. Besides, her parents were presenting a united front, one she couldn’t seem to breach. Dazed, she

made her way upstairs to her bedroom. What just happened?

A few minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. Her mother opened it. “Can I come in?”

Daisy nodded and Mamm walked inside and shut the door. “I’m sorry we’re rushing you, Daisy. We found out last night that your Aunt Rosella was

wanting your help so soon.”

“Why didn’t she just call me?”

“I... well, you know how busy wedding planning can get.”

“She has seven months.”

“And those will fly right by.” Mamm took her hands. “I know you’re concerned about not telling Maynard. I promise I’ll talk to him. And you can call or write

to him from Marigold anytime you want.”

“Except when he’s working.” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her tone. Daisy had never been one for talking on the

phone, and idle chatter was forbidden by the Ordnung anyway.

“Of course.” Mamm squeezed her hands. “He is such a busy, busy mann .”

What did she mean by that? She inwardly sighed. She didn’t have it in her to disobey her parents, and they had already booked the taxi and reserved

the ticket. But as soon as she helped Grace and Rosella, she was coming right back to Dover and straight to see Maynard.

Mamm grabbed Daisy in a tight hug. “Trust me, this is for the best. I’ll let you pack.”

She waited for her mother to leave, then frowned. This seemed odd. Her placid cousin was in an awful hurry for Daisy to visit

her in Marigold, Ohio, months before her wedding. Not that it wouldn’t be nice to spend time with Grace. They were inseparable

up until eight years ago when Grace’s family had moved away. Daisy had been the first one to hear about Kyle, and of course

she had told Grace about Maynard... with a little embellishment. Okay, a lot.

She sat down on the bed, her mind on him again. Her family’s timing couldn’t be worse. Now she’d have to wait to talk with

him, just after finally coming up with a plan.

Then she regrouped. She would enjoy her visit with her cousin, aunt, and uncle, and write plenty of letters to Maynard. Maybe she would even call just to hear his voice. Surely that wouldn’t violate the Ordnung . As soon as she returned home, they would discuss their future. Perhaps even set a wedding date for this year. I’ve waited long enough.