Last Bride, The (Home to Hickory Hollow Book #5) (14 page)

Y
ou
must
’
ve
told her!” Tessie said. “How else would she know, Mandy?
How
?
”

It was a good thing Ella Mae had already taken her leave, because Mandy would have dreaded having the dear woman witness her sister’s anger. “Evidently the bishop’s wife isn’t blind,” Mandy replied calmly. “You’re starting to show, after all.”

Tessie slumped down at the table, chewing on her lip. “I should’ve known.” She pressed her hands to her temples and moaned.

“Mary Beiler seemed to already know . . . honestly.”

Tessie rose abruptly, leaving her mug on the table. “I guess I have no one to blame but myself,” she said as she made her way out to the mud room to put on her coat and scarf.

Mandy heard the door between the kitchen and the outer room close. A few moments later, there was muffled weeping, and then a familiar squeak as her sister left through the exterior door.

Feeling like a bird in a locked cage the next morning, Tessie took the long way to the bishop’s farm after breakfast. She’d slept on it, as her mother might’ve said, and after much contemplation, she had decided that Mandy and Mary were right. She must go and bare her soul to the bishop.

Tessie had put on extra layers of clothes to keep warm, not wanting to ask Dat for the horse and carriage. Not really wanting to involve her parents at all, having so disgraced them. And she hadn’t told Mamma where she was going.

The bishop’s place was a sweeping spread of tranquil pastureland and fields, with three majestic mulberry trees beautifying the front yard. During the warmer months, purple impatiens nestled near the base of each tree.

Twelve-year-old Jacob Beiler opened the door and let her in, his deep-set eyes innocent. “Hullo, Tessie Ann,” he said, his voice as respectful as usual. Tessie remembered it was Saturday, and Jacob and his younger siblings were home from school.

Mary ushered Tessie inside the toasty kitchen, offering some hot tea while she asked Jacob to go and fetch Bishop John from the barn, “Right quick, son. Tell him Tessie Miller’s here,” Mary said, jarring Tessie’s nerves.

“Hope I didn’t come over too early,” she murmured as she took a seat near the heater stove at Mary’s suggestion.

“Ach, you’re fine . . . just fine.” Mary made small talk by saying, “Looks like more snow is on the way.”

“Already it’s startin’ to spit.” Tessie glanced at the low, gray sky through the window near the big table, where two of the younger girls sat playing with paper dolls.

“The bishop should be right in,” Mary said, sounding as nervous as Tessie felt.

“Denki.” She so wished now she’d told the truth right away, after Marcus died. She should have told the bishop what they’d decided to do, going off to the world to marry. Thinking of Marcus buried in the cold, hard ground, Tessie inhaled deeply. The loss still broke her heart.

“Life’s got
a way of workin’ out,”
Ella Mae often said, but as Tessie sat there anxious and forlorn, it was hard to believe.

Eventually, the bishop came in behind Jacob, who led the way, and then the lad disappeared upstairs. Without saying much, the man of God and his wife motioned for Tessie to follow them into the front room, where they offered her a seat on the only upholstered chair. The two of them sat on a large settee opposite, and Mary reached for one of its pillows and held it in front of her.
Like a shield
, Tessie thought.

She shifted her gaze to the bishop. His eyes rarely smiled, and they were certainly serious now.

“Tessie Miller, have you come to confess?”

“Jah.” She nodded. “I was disobedient to my parents,” she said. “And now I’m expecting a baby.”

Bishop’s face was motionless. “I see.” He did not ask if Marcus King was the father. Like all the People, John Beiler must be aware that she and Marcus had courted at length.

“Are you repentant before the Lord Gott?” he asked solemnly.

Expected though she was to demonstrate the meek spirit of submission—
Gelassenheit
—to the bishop’s authority, Tessie was unprepared to answer directly. Did the Lord expect her to renounce her marriage? True, it had taken place outside
the church, but she and Marcus had prayed that God would use it and bless it.

“I’m here to ask your forgiveness for disobeying my parents, bishop,” she said at last, thinking again of her father’s refusal of Marcus. She felt compelled to walk a fence with the bishop, because it was unfitting to say she was sorry about having conceived her husband’s child. Wasn’t it?

Oh, she felt so awfully confused just now, yet she wanted to do the right thing as a church member—one who used to be in good standing.

“You must certainly be ashamed, then,” the bishop said, folding his hands in his lap.

“I am.”

“It is also the father’s responsibility to confess his sin, and I pray that Marcus King made that known to the Lord God before his passing.”

Before his passing.

The ominous words hung in the room.

“On our next Preaching Sunday, one week from tomorrow, you will confess your sin before the church membership, following the final hymn.”

She nodded and waited for him to say how long she would be shamed, similar to an excommunication. But he quickly moved on to add that he and the two ministers, including Preacher Yoder, would meet later today to discuss her disgrace and the length of her discipline.

“Most women in your situation request to withdraw their church membership, offering their own short-term excommunication,” Bishop John added. “But I’m not hearin’ that from you, Tessie.”

She waited for a moment, then said softly, “Nee.”

“And why is that?”

The bishop couldn’t possibly understand what she was feeling. Yet she could not complicate things by letting her tears fall. She thought of telling them outright that she had married Marcus King, but she had no proof—she had no idea where Marcus had put their marriage license, for one thing. And revealing their elopement might just create more troubles for everyone.

“Honestly, I crave the fellowship of the membership,” she finally managed. “I truly do. I couldn’t bear to be shamed and kept away from the church.”

Mary Beiler rose just then and came to stand next to Tessie’s chair. She placed a hand on Tessie’s shoulder. “We care about ya, dear. All the People do. You mustn’t forget that.”

“Denki, Mary,” she whispered.

The bishop got up and nodded at the two of them. Tessie thought for sure he was on his way out, but he lingered in the doorway. “May the Lord go before you, Tessie Miller.” He sounded almost sympathetic.

She could not speak; things were so jumbled in her heart . . . her head.
Have I done the right thing?
she wondered.

T
essie Ann halfheartedly decided to keep her appointed date with Levi Smucker that evening, since she couldn’t get word to him in time to cancel. As she dressed, she did not count the brushstrokes through her strawberry-hued blond hair like she frequently did, her mind elsewhere. She redid the thick bun and smoothed her apron, too, all second nature.

The more she considered her visit with the bishop and Mary, the more uneasy Tessie felt. If only tomorrow were the next Preaching Sunday, her confession would be over sooner.

She sighed deeply.
I’ll be ousted
from the church . . . and for how long?
She would miss attending Preaching service and the wintertime activities for the womenfolk. Fellowship with her sisters might be scarce, as well. And Mamma? How would things be at home once the shaming began?

Placing a freshly washed Kapp on her head, she turned from the mirror and glanced out the window, noting the fading sunlight. The day had brightened midafternoon, the gloom
and drear of heavy snow clouds clearing away and making the prospects for the evening much colder. Tessie was thankful Levi was taking her directly to the restaurant, where she would be warm. Thankfully, she could easily conceal her condition with her coat. Soon, though, word would trickle out, then rapidly rush down Hickory Lane like a swollen creek after torrential rains—a flash flood of gossip.

Tessie Miller’s
with child!

“That’ll nix Levi’s interest in me right quick,” she muttered. At least she wouldn’t have to be the one to refuse potential future dates.

Tessie moved from the window, going to sit on the bed. There, she placed her hands on her stomach, pleading with the sovereign Lord, once more, for the health of her unborn child.
Thou hast written this baby’s name
on Thy heart, O Lord,
she prayed silently.

Tessie quickly discovered how very likeable Levi Smucker was, which she should have remembered from going to Singings during her midteens. Smart and pleasant, Levi wasn’t one to shy away from discussing any topic, it seemed. In fact, he carried the conversation between them in the hired van, especially eager to tell her about an upcoming trip to Florida to visit his grandparents, who were struggling health-wise.

“They’re becoming enamored with the place, I think.” His eyes were thoughtful. “It’s their second winter there.” He seemed pleased when she showed interest, then happy to tell her more fascinating stories of the retired folk who frequented
the area called Pinecraft. “I’ll be leavin’ next Thursday to help out, but I’ll be back as soon as I can line up further care for them, my grandmother in particular.”

“They must miss Lancaster County,” she said.

He laughed softly. “Well, they’ve had some wonderful-
gut
times down there.” He paused a moment, head down briefly. “Till now.” He told her of some of the retired People’s fishing trips at South Lido Beach, of playing shuffleboard for hours—with prizes for winning, no less. “Bocce too. Some of their friends take a short bus ride to Siesta Key and spend the day swimming in the ocean or walking along the shoreline.”

“Sounds nice.” She sighed. “I hope your grandmother gets well quickly.”

He said he hoped so, too. “Would ya mind if I wrote to you while I’m there?”

“I s’pose that’d be all right,” she said, immediately rejecting the idea of having any sort of courting relationship with him or anyone. Her heart belonged to Marcus King, forever and always.

Levi glanced at her, smiling. “I don’t mean to press ya, I hope you understand,” he added.

Nodding absently, she recalled sitting in this very van, heading somewhere on a cold evening with Marcus. So many lovely late-night trips spent riding around Hickory Hollow and sometimes down to Strasburg, to the creamery, and the long walks along country roads, too, holding hands in the midst of a perfect, pure silence—the most comfortable kind of all.

Levi’s anything but quiet
,
she thought. It was as if he didn’t mind whether the Mennonite driver overheard them, for
surely Thomas Flory could understand bits and pieces of their Deitsch.

Later, when they were seated across from each other at a candlelit table, Levi did not seem troubled by being gawked at by a whole roomful of Englischers as he leaned forward, engaging her in animated conversation. Being with Levi made her feel as if they were in a small bubble made for two, and she felt bewildered. This was not at all what her heart needed.

Truth be told, she was having a nice time. But halfway through her veal tenderloin and mashed potatoes, the bishop’s remarks about her upcoming confession and possible excommunication repeated in her thoughts. Surely the prospect of additional dates with Levi—or anyone—would come to a swift end once the grapevine had its way with the People.

How soon? Next week?

Her fleeting contentment was merely that.

Winter clouds, splendid in their dappled darkness, swirled apart in patches the next morning. Shafts of sunlight broke through them and shone onto the countryside.

While the quiet house was sweet with the residual smell of cinnamon, Tessie took the opportunity to sit down with Mamma over some hot cocoa after breakfast, this being a no-Preaching Sunday. In that moment, she found herself wishing for a visit to see soft-spoken Ella Mae and have a taste of her tea at last. But it was impractical to postpone the inevitable conversation with her mother any longer. Tessie was glad
they were alone and began simply by saying, “I went to see the bishop yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“I’m going to have a baby . . . and the father is Marcus.” The words spilled out.

Her mother’s round, pink face did not fall, nor did she gasp. “I s’pose Bishop John had some admonition for you?” Mamma’s blue eyes were moist in the corners. She did not reach for Tessie’s hand as she might have.

Tessie filled her in quickly.

Mamma removed her glasses and puffed a breath on each lens before rubbing them on the hem of her apron. “Will ya raise your child alone, as a single mother, then?”

“Well, I won’t hurry up and marry. I just couldn’t.”

Mamma sucked in some air and coughed. “Ach, I’d think you’d want to give your babe a father. A last name, too.”

“Jah . . .”

Thankfully, the possibility the baby could be born with a rare and serious disease did not come up. Yet it was all she could do to sit there and talk about this with her mother. The very act stretched her thin, and Tessie was starting to believe things were almost better when she was the only one aware of the baby, aside from the doctor and the bishop.

And Mandy.
How she missed her sister just up the road!

“Someone’s got to break this to your father,” Mamma said suddenly. “It’s not going to be me; I can tell you that.”

Tessie nodded. Telling Dat would not be easy—he’d have himself a rant. She expected her mother to get up right then and start pacing between there and the front room, as she sometimes did when pondering
Druwwel—
trouble. If it were
summer, Mamma might have promptly headed outdoors to drag a hose around the yard, giving her flowers a drink.

But Mamma, bless her heart, just sat there and drank her cocoa, the plate of leftover sticky buns sitting untouched before them. Mother and daughter glanced shyly at each other while the wind bent the poplar trees in the distance and brittle brown leaves spun across the cold white ground.