An Amish Wedding (34 page)

“Abe got a cell phone, and Mr. Turner went to a lot of trouble to find Abe’s phone number. He evidently called all over town until someone said to try Linda’s parents’ phone in the barn. So, long story short . . . he found me.”

“What did he want?”

Chester locked eyes with her, and she wanted to look away. She couldn’t stand to see him so sad.

“He accused me of stealing money.” Chester stared at the wall to their left. “Two hundred dollars.”

Priscilla’s eyes grew round. “What?”

Chester put his elbows on the table and dropped his forehead into his hands. “How could he think I would do that?” He kept his head down as he spoke. “Then he fired me.”

“What? That’s not fair!” Priscilla jumped up from her bench, hands on her hips. “Did you tell him that you would never do such a thing?”

Chester leaned back in his chair and reached up for her hand. Gently, he pulled her back down until she was seated again. “Of course I did. But he said I was the one who closed the store on Friday, which I was, and that the money didn’t just walk away. He said he had two hundred dollars cash from a customer in an envelope inside his desk. And it was gone Saturday morning when he opened the store.” He let out another heavy sigh. “I’m upset about losing my job, but I’m even more bothered that he thinks I stole from him.”

Priscilla folded her arms across her chest and tipped her head to one side. “This just doesn’t make sense. Mr. Turner has always liked you . . . and trusted you. He obviously misplaced the money.”

“
Ya
, he did.”

“Was anyone else around? Maybe someone else took it.”

Chester shook his head, and Priscilla sat quietly for a moment. Mr. Turner had been good to Chester since he started working there almost two years ago. The elderly man had always been kind and fair. He said it was a big step for him to hire help after thirty years of running the business by himself. Turner’s Furniture was a small store with a variety of furniture, but Mr. Turner often commented about how well Chester’s pieces—especially his rocking chairs—sold. And Chester did a lot of other things for Mr. Turner . . . inventory, stocking, and even some ordering.

“Don’t you think it’s strange that he would track you down on Abe’s phone instead of talking to you in person?” She shook her head. “I just can’t believe he accused you of stealing.”

“Mr. Turner hasn’t been himself lately. I don’t know what to make of it.” Chester paused with a faraway look in his eyes before turning back to her. “I’m sorry to dump this on you today, but it really has me down.” He eased his hand over to hers and squeezed. “But let’s don’t talk about this anymore. I want you to open your present.”

She tried to clear her mind and focus on their special time. “Why am I getting a present? It’s not my birthday.”

“It’s my wedding present to you. I couldn’t wait.”

She gasped. “But I don’t have your present ready yet.” She’d been sewing Chester a Sunday vest and matching pants, but they weren’t finished.

He stood up, pulled her into a hug, and whispered in her ear, “I love you, Priscilla. Let’s don’t let worry plague our hearts today.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Will you open your present?”

“Ya!”
She eyed the box on the table.

Chester picked up the package, reached for her hand again, and they walked into the living room. Once they were settled on the couch, Priscilla delicately worked the white bow from around the package and carefully peeled back the yellow paper. She pried open the top of the box. Tears welled in her eyes as she lifted the beautiful clock from the box, and when the scent of freshly stained wood filled her nostrils, she knew right away that Chester had made it for her.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” She ran her hand gingerly along the smooth casing of the clock.

“Not from where I’m sitting.” Chester cupped her cheek and kissed her on the mouth, lingering for long enough to give her a glimpse of what their time as husband and wife would bring, and she kissed him back.

She forced herself to ease away from him and looked down at the clock again. “This will look beautiful on our mantel.”

Chester smiled—a real smile. And she was glad that he seemed to be forgetting about Mr. Turner.

“Are you ready to eat?” She stood up from her spot on the couch.

“
Ya
. It smells mighty
gut
.”

They strolled hand in hand into the kitchen, and once Chester was seated, she refilled both their tea glasses, placed a jar of chowchow on the table, and put out a loaf of butter bread and two kinds of jam. Then she carefully pulled out the underground ham from the oven and placed it on the table.

They bowed their heads in silent prayer before Chester dived in, eating like a man who hadn’t had a meal in a month.

“Chester Lapp, you act like you’ve never had underground ham before.” Priscilla’s insides warmed as she watched him devour her cooking. She pushed the bread and jam closer to him. “Don’t forget some butter bread and jam. It’s rhubarb.”

C
HESTER NODDED, HIS MOUTH STUFFED
. H
E WAS DOING
his best to show Priscilla how much he appreciated the fine meal she’d laid before him, but he didn’t have much of an appetite, and his mind was filled with worry despite his best attempts to clear his head. The roof and wiring on the house needed repairing, he was getting married in just over three weeks, and now he would start his married life without a job. Even though he planned to grow hay on his sixty acres, it wouldn’t provide enough income to live. Mr. Turner had paid him more than a fair wage for the thirty hours per week he put in at the store.

Still chewing, he glanced up. Priscilla was pushing her food around on her plate. He knew that this news was weighing heavily on her. He swallowed, then said, “Priscilla, I can see the concern on your face. Please don’t worry.”

She offered him the hint of a smile. “I know everything’s going to be fine.”

She sat taller, scooped up a forkful of ham, and he watched her take the bite. Surely, her appetite must have left her when he shared his news, but Chester knew how important this time was to Priscilla. And to him.

After the main meal, Priscilla served them each a slice of cake, and Chester was pretty sure it was the best cake he’d ever had, but he continued to fight the anxiety that roiled in his stomach. It seemed like he and Priscilla just couldn’t catch a break. Everything leading up to the wedding was going wrong—the house, Abe breaking his wrist, Priscilla’s dress, her favorite aunt and uncle not being able to attend, and now . . . he didn’t have a job. If he didn’t love Priscilla as much as he did and know that she was the one for him, he might question the challenges the Lord had laid before them. His father said that too much opposition meant that you weren’t on the path God intended for you. But Chester trusted God’s will, and lots of good things in life came with opposition.

Then why did
Daed
’s words keep lingering in his mind?

He was jarred from his thoughts when Priscilla hiccuped.

Chapter Six

N
O.
N
OT NOW
.

Priscilla clamped her hand over her mouth. Slightly embarrassed, she reminded herself that superstitions were not to be heeded. Chester raised his brows a bit as he bit into a slice of cake. She hiccuped again. “Oops,” she said, and raised her eyes to Chester’s. “I don’t know why this keeps happening.”

“I think it’s cute.”

“It’s not cute, Chester.” She hiccuped again, and he grinned, which caused her to smile back at him. “It’s bothersome.”

Chester laid his fork on the small plate in front of him, not even a crumb of cake left. “I have to go to the bathroom. Be right back.”

She watched him walk through the living room and down the hallway. She held her breath, but when that didn’t help, she stood up and began clearing the dishes from the table, hiccuping off and on. As she filled the sink with soapy warm water, she tried to focus on something other than her hiccups. Her wedding. She envisioned the scene for the hundredth time this week, and pictured herself and Chester promising to love each other for the rest of their lives.

After she slipped their dishes into the water, she returned to the table and carefully picked up the casserole dish with the leftover ham. Her father would eat it the next day for lunch. With great care, she covered the dish with foil. It had belonged to her grandmother and was her mother’s favorite, oblong and white with three-inch sides, and a farm scene around the sides that had faded over the decades. Priscilla pulled the door of the refrigerator wide, bent down, and scanned inside for a place to store the dish.

“Boo!”

Chester’s fingers poked her in the ribs, and the dish crashed to the floor. Priscilla stared at the broken dish as the sauce from the underground ham flowed slowly onto the wooden floorboards. She slowly raised her eyes to Chester’s.

“Priscilla, I’m sorry.” He squatted down and picked up the broken dish, which continued to drip as he lifted it. “I was trying to scare away your hiccups.”

She put the broken dish on the counter and covered her face with her hands to hide her tears.

“Priscilla, I’m so, so sorry.” Chester put his arms around her and pulled her close, but she jerked away.

“Everything is going wrong, Chester! Everything!” She swiped at her eyes and kept her head down.

Chester let out a heavy sigh. “I thought you were just looking in the refrigerator. I didn’t see that you were holding the food.”

She sniffled as she looked back up at him. “It’s not just this. It’s everything. If I didn’t know better, I’d think God was sending us a message that we’re just not meant to get married.” When Chester’s jaw dropped, she knew she shouldn’t have voiced her thoughts. “I shouldn’t have said that,” she said as she reached out to him.

He backed away, his expression strained. “Maybe you’re right.”

“No, Chester. I love you.” A tear slipped down her cheek as she realized that her hiccups were gone. “I’m sorry I said that.” Her stomach knotted as she watched him take another step back.

“I love you too, Priscilla. But maybe you’re right. Everything is going wrong. I don’t even have a job now. It’s been one thing after the other, and . . .” He took a deep breath as he thrust his hands on his hips and stared at the floor. After what seemed like an eternity, he looked up at her, and his eyes softened like the sound of his voice. “I love you,” he repeated.

She ran to him and threw her arms around his waist. “I love you too, Chester. And no matter the challenges, I want to be your
frau
.” She lifted her eyes to his. “The most important thing is our love for each other.”

His lips met with hers, and Priscilla closed her eyes, melding into his arms and refusing to let pre-wedding stress come between them.

A
LL THE WAY HOME
, C
HESTER THOUGHT ABOUT
P
RISCILLA’S
fears, a mirror of his own. It was hard not to question if he and Priscilla were on the right path. But how could their love for each other be a mistake?

By the time he got home, his thoughts were resolved. No more fretting about the wedding, the house, or a job. God would provide in His own time. Right now, he wanted to get home before his folks and Abe returned from church, climb into bed, and take a rare nap—even if only for an hour. He hadn’t slept much the night before, and by the time he kicked off his shoes and hit the bed, he fell fast asleep.