Emma Blooms At Last (3 page)

“That would give us a chance to buy the batting and more thread at the mercantile, too,” Lizzie remarked as she carried away a tray of plated pie.

“I can't see well enough to thread a needle or to cut straight edges anymore, but I sure do love frolics,” Eunice remarked wistfully. “We've got long worktables, and I could get our lunch ready while the rest of you sew. Seems to me this would be a wonderful-gut chance for all of us to work on James and Abby's gifts while they're not around to watch us, too.”

“Perfect!” Amanda declared. “And this way Wyman and the boys won't have to endure an all-day hen party.”

“But—but
I'd
like to help with the quilting, too.” Emma's brow puckered. “That's something I never have the chance to do unless—”

“Unless we have another quilting frolic at my house the following Saturday!” Amanda looked extremely pleased with herself for making this plan dovetail like the patchwork pieces they were discussing. “We can't possibly finish in one session, after all. So, Emma, if you'll drive your folks to Bloomingdale on the twenty-eighth, we'll make a day of it. It'll be like an extension of Thanksgiving, with all of us together.”

Jerome could practically see the wheels spinning in Emma's mind as she searched for another way to evade him. Yet—without him saying a single word—his aunt and Emma's mother had neatly sewn up his plans and stitched her into a corner, for they had given Emma her wish, too. Meanwhile, Amanda and Eunice had provided him a second day to visit with her, even if he wouldn't be sitting with them while they quilted.

“So Saturday morning, then?” he asked gently. “Day after tomorrow?”

Emma released the breath she'd been holding. She didn't look overjoyed, but at least she was accepting the situation. “Jah, looks that way.”

“I really appreciate your help, Emma,” Jerome said. Then he winked at her. “And
maybe
we'll even have some fun!”

A
s Bishop Vernon Gingerich stood up to give the wedding sermon, Emma shifted on the pew. Jerome was looking directly at her, silently seeking her attention. With the wall partitions taken down to expand most of Preacher Sam's main floor into one huge space for church, nearly three hundred people had crowded onto the pew benches, but the center area, where the preachers stood, was very small. Emma sat with Abby in the front row of the women's side, just as Jerome flanked James on the men's side about ten feet across from her. Nothing blocked Jerome's line of sight.

Emma had nowhere to hide.

“Brothers and sisters,” Vernon began in his resonant voice, “I have had the honor of preaching at hundreds of weddings in my thirty years of ministry, yet still I ask our Lord's presence and guidance as He brings pertinent words to my tongue. I must say that the man and woman I join in holy matrimony today are an inspiration to us all. They stand before us as examples of the fruits
of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, and faith.” The bishop's white-bearded face lit up as he glanced at the bride and then at the groom. “It's a privilege to behold the love and respect James Graber and Abigail Lambright have for each other, and to lead them in their vows later in the service.”

Abby blushed as red as a rose at the compliment. She grabbed Emma's hand, and Emma squeezed back. When Emma glanced over at her brother, James looked a little amazed by the bishop's praise, but his love for Abby radiated from his face. All around the room, friends and family nodded in agreement with Vernon's sentiments.

Jerome, however, was gazing directly at Emma as though the two of them were alone in the room. Flustered, Emma looked away. Why was he paying such insistent attention to her? Surely he realized she'd agreed to go shopping with him only because she couldn't get out of it. She was doing it as a favor to Abby and James more than as a way to be with him.

“Love is patient and kind,” Vernon continued in a low, rolling voice. As he extolled these virtues, paraphrasing the beloved passage from First Corinthians, he pointed out that while both James and Abby had shown the Cedar Creek community many examples of those traits as single folks, marriage might expand their understanding of what it meant to accept each other's little quirks and habits, once the novelty of being newlyweds wore off.

You
are patient and kind,
Jerome mouthed at Emma. Then he smiled sweetly at her.

Emma's cheeks prickled with heat as she lowered her gaze. Such a compliment was the last thing she'd expected from Jerome. Or was he just flirting with her?

“I'd like those of us who've been married for a while to reflect back on when we were in Abby and James's place,” Vernon went on. “I guarantee that as the years of joys and heartaches have accumulated, we've gained a different perspective on the love Paul the apostle speaks of in the Bible. When we reflect upon how love
bears all things, believes all things, hopes and endures all things, we realize how very innocent and inexperienced we were when we took our marriage vows, even though we believed ourselves to be totally, irrevocably in love with our new mate.”

Several of the folks in the room were nodding. Even though Emma knew better, she glanced at Jerome again.

His face brightened as he met her gaze.
Love bears all things, believes all things,
he mouthed.
Hopes all things, endures all things.

Emma's breath caught. Was Jerome telling her that he understood her trials and tribulations as she cared for her parents, yet he still hoped to spend time with her? Or was she reading too much into his silent messages? He looked especially handsome today in his black vest and trousers with a crisp white shirt.

As the bishop wound down his sermon, Emma's heart was pounding so loudly, she wondered whether Abby could hear it. Jerome was being discreet enough that most folks wouldn't notice the attention he was paying her, but she still felt as though he'd been whispering those words about love directly into her ear. No other man had ever acted so . . . enthralled.

But why was she getting caught up in Jerome's romantic gestures? At twenty-four, he hadn't yet joined the church, and he'd backed out of two engagements. Falling for him would surely leave her disappointed and heartbroken. And why would she want to get serious about a fellow whose mule-breeding business was in Bloomingdale, an hour's drive away—too far from Cedar Creek to make dating him a practical idea?

“And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three,” Vernon paraphrased in a rising voice. “But the greatest of these is love. Abby and James, if you will rise and stand before us, we will begin that most sacred and beloved of ceremonies that will bind the two of you into one heart and mind from this day forth.”

Emma sighed. Hearing the wedding vows for the fourth time within the last few weeks only reminded her that she wouldn't be
repeating these words after Vernon any time soon. And while Jerome's attention was making her all fluttery inside, she didn't want to encourage further eye contact with him during the ceremony. Why should she let him believe she was interested in him?
He assumes I'll be like dozens of other girls who've gone head over heels when he noticed them. After the ceremony, I'll stay busy helping with the meal instead of sitting beside Jerome at the eck table. It's for the best. I'll be seeing him on Saturday, after all.

Emma couldn't escape the traditional signing of the marriage certificate immediately following the ceremony, however. When the crowd rose to congratulate the newlyweds, she hurried over to the little table, took up the pen, and wrote her name on the witness line as Jerome waited for his turn.

“It's my job to tell the servers the wedding has ended,” she said breezily. Before he could protest, Emma skirted the crowd and hurried toward the greenhouse, across a lawn strewn with fallen leaves of red and gold. She inhaled the crisp, refreshing air. Sam's house had gotten stuffy with so many folks crammed together for nearly five hours, and it felt good to get up and move.

“And it's
my
job to check the eck before the bride and groom arrive,” Jerome teased as he caught up to her. Rather than opening the door of the greenhouse for her, he stepped in front of her and leaned against it, holding Emma's gaze yet again with his deep brown eyes. “Why are you running away from me, Emma? I have only the best intentions,” he insisted gently. “Did it bother you when I admired your patience and kindness—the way you bear all things and believe all things?”

How should she respond to that? She didn't want to fall for his glib compliments and the winsome expression on his face, only inches from hers. “
You
might be hoping all things,” she murmured, “but you're setting yourself up for disappointment, Jerome. I take my responsibilities to my parents seriously.”

“Emma,” he entreated her in a lingering whisper, “I respect you immensely for keeping your family fed and cared for. But your folks would be a lot happier if you'd get out and enjoy yourself more. They've told me so.”

Emma's mouth dropped open.
Get out and enjoy yourself more?
She was inclined not to believe him, yet she could well imagine Dat and Mamm telling him that, because they adored Jerome and enjoyed the time he spent with them. Still, Emma wasn't falling for it. “We really need to get inside before the crowd arrives,” she told Jerome. “You have your jobs and I have mine.”

Jerome didn't budge. “I just want to have some
fun
with you, because I really
like
you, Emma. Won't you please give me a chance?” He held her gaze for a few moments more, then cleared his throat. “I've heard you were sweet on Matt Lambright all through school, and I'm sorry he didn't return your affection. That had to be a hard pill to swallow, when he married Rosemary and then moved right next door to you.”

Emma wished she could disappear. While Jerome had probably learned about her feelings for Matt from her parents as well, it still rattled her that he knew so much about her love life—or lack of one. “I don't need your pity, Jerome,” she snapped.

“Pity?”
His eyebrows rose. “On the contrary, I admire your longtime loyalty to Matt. It strikes me as . . . very special. I'd like to make up for the good times I suspect you've missed out on—but now I've embarrassed you.” He sighed as he opened the door for her. “I'm sorry, Emma. When I really want something to work out, I tend to speak before I think.”

Emma's pulse was pounding, and as she entered the airy, glass-walled greenhouse, she hoped the ladies who'd been preparing the meal didn't notice her red face. To settle her nerves, she inhaled the tantalizing aromas of the traditional chicken and stuffing “roast” and the creamed celery. After what Jerome had
said about her unrequited affection for Matt, it would be even more difficult to sit beside him for the entire wedding feast, in front of everyone. She really needed to keep herself too busy to—

Why are you so upset? Jerome's a nice fellow, complimenting you and expressing his concern. You could do worse than spending your time with such a good-looking, successful man
.

Emma blinked. That sounded like something her mother would say.

Okay, so Jerome came on a little too strong—but he apologized. Maybe you don't know how to respond to his attention because you've hardly dated anyone, while he's been engaged twice . . .

Why were her feelings riding such a seesaw? This wasn't the time or the place to let Jerome's attention distract her. Emma focused again on the tables that were set for the meal, and on the things she could do to make this day totally wonderful for Abby and James.

“It was a beautiful wedding!” she called out to Beulah Mae, Lois, and the other helpers who'd remained there to oversee the final food preparations. “Folks'll be coming over any minute now.”

The cooks and servers bustled about, lifting the covers from the metal pans in the steam table and checking the food one last time. The bread and slices of pie were already on the tables, so Emma helped fill the water glasses as the first of the wedding guests stepped through the door. Abby and James entered the greenhouse, and the whole place seemed to light up with the joy that shone on their faces as they gazed at each other.

That's how love's supposed to be,
Emma mused as she took her place beside Abby on the eck.
I want nothing less for myself.

Once the helpers had served the wedding party, the other guests made their way through the buffet line. As Emma began to eat the delicious chicken and stuffing, creamed celery, and other
delectable dishes, she realized just how ravenous she'd become during the long morning's activities. “The ladies outdid themselves on this meal,” she remarked to Abby.

“Jah, they did. And to think they accomplished everything without
me
!”

Emma laughed with her best friend and squeezed her hand. “I wish you and James all the happiness your hearts can hold.”

Abby flashed her a radiant smile. “And I wish you the same, Emma. Every woman should be as delighted as I feel right now, knowing God has given her exactly the right husband to share her life.”

Tears sprang to Emma's eyes, but they were tears of happiness for Abby . . . weren't they? Or was she once again despairing of ever finding a man to love her the way James adored Abby?

Emma sighed. Jerome was sitting at her other side, eating in silence. Even though his earlier remarks had made her uncomfortable, he hadn't been unkind—and maybe, after two unsuccessful engagements, he, too, was wondering if he'd ever find the right person to love. Emma was trying to think of a way to engage him in conversation again, when Rudy Ropp, who owned the dairy farm down the hill, stepped up to the eck.

“Say there, Jerome, that was quite the picture of your eight-mule hitch in the latest issue of the
Connection
,” he remarked. “Looks like you trained a team of prizewinners.”

Jerome's smile lit up his whole face. “Jah, when the mules' owner sent me that photo, Jemima insisted on sending it to the magazine. Seems that mule team's already won a couple of competitions. Come January, they'll go on to the
big
shows at the National Western in Denver.”

Titus Yutzy and Mervin Mast came up to the eck then, to add their comments. “I recall the day you were strutting that team's stuff, hauling a wagonload of folks down the county road,” Titus said.

“Jah, it was as fine a parade as I've ever seen, even if it was just your one wagon,” Mervin joined in. “I rushed outside to see what was making that
thunder
down the road, and there came your team, with every mule stepping in cadence—like you'd trained them to march to music!”

Emma took a bite of her pumpkin pie. She remembered that day because she had been riding in that fancy wagon as Jerome drove those mules. And it
had
been an awesome experience—
and Jerome had to trick you into coming, coaxing Mamm to ride so you'd be the only one left at home if you didn't join them.

She blinked. Maybe she really did need to get out more . . . but right now, keeping busy seemed the best way to dodge her confused thoughts.

Although as a member of the wedding party Emma was entitled to enjoy an afternoon of visiting rather than helping during the meal, she stood up to scrape plates. “I'm doing this so
you
won't, Abby,” she informed the bride. “I hope James will keep you so occupied visiting your guests that you don't wash a single dish or fetch so much as a cookie for anybody today.”

As Abby laughed, James slipped his arm around her shoulders. “That's my plan, Emma. We'll resume our responsibilities tomorrow, come time to clean up. I figure on enjoying our big day now that the serious part is over.”