The Amish Bride (30 page)

L
uke worked for Rosalee nearly every day, and Millie worked for her most days. Their mother was growing stronger and was able to take over more of their household duties. Eddie tagged along with his older siblings, and his comic relief definitely made the days go faster. Plus, he was good company for Luke in the fields.

One Wednesday afternoon, as Rosalee made apple streusel and I washed baking pans, she asked me if I’d heard from Ezra recently. I was a little taken aback. I’d assumed he and Rosalee hadn’t met.

“Why do you ask?”

“He seemed so befuddled, that’s all.”

I must have had a funny look on my face as I rubbed the tip of my nose with my wrist because she added, “He stopped by with Luke one day. Had a sticky bun.” She tilted her head as if thinking. “Actually two.”

That figured. I turned back toward the sink full of dishes. I’d never known anyone to refer to Ezra as “befuddled.”

“He called—” I caught myself before I said “on my birthday.” “A while back. And I’ve had a letter.”

I didn’t add how short it had been.

“How is he?”

“Trying to fly under the radar.”

“Or ride?” Her voice was playful.

I smiled. “Something like that.”

“My Henry had a motorcycle when I first met him.”

“Really?” The thought of Rosalee on the back of a bike made me grin.

“He was from Michigan and had cousins here. He used to ride down to court me. But then we both joined the church before we got married.”

“And moved to Michigan? Where you were happy?”

She didn’t answer, so I stole a glance at her. She was staring at me. “Yes and no,” she finally said.

“No?”

She turned her attention back to streusel in front of her. “I thought we’d be happy. Why wouldn’t I? We were both Amish. We believed exactly the same thing.” She laughed. “Still, we butted heads. It’s not that we fought. There was just an underlying conflict almost all the time. I don’t know. Maybe we repeat the patterns we see as a child.”

I was standing with my back to the sink now, drying a metal bowl to make more room in the rack and wondering why she was telling me this. I couldn’t imagine Rosalee butting heads with anyone.

Thankfully, Ezra and I had never had any conflict. Well, just a little after we’d arrived in Indiana, but we’d worked through all of that. I was even showing, probably as much to my surprise as to everyone else’s back home, that I could be submissive by staying at the Home Place as he requested until everything settled down.

“What I learned,” Rosalee said, sealing the dough around the filling, “was that there were all sorts of things I should have learned before I became Henry’s bride.”

“Oh?” I put the bowl away and picked up another. “Like what?”

“How to trust God more.”

I thought about that for a moment, wondering if she thought I wasn’t trusting God. I hated how adults communicated. They seemed to strive to be sly.

And the thing was, I was trusting God with Ezra. Why else would I be willing to join the Amish church? I didn’t tell Rosalee that, though.

I thought she was finished, but then she added, “It’s better to stay
single than to marry someone who doesn’t share your faith, Ella. Being unequally yoked is even more difficult than it sounds.”

I had no idea why she would bring that up. Of course Ezra and I shared the same faith, but I didn’t say that. Instead, I smiled and thanked her for telling me her story.

That afternoon I rode my bike into town and delivered the last of Rosalee’s business cards, at least the last of the ones she had given me. So far no one had come into the bakery for their free sticky bun and no one had ordered anything from us. I had borrowed saddlebags from Luke and had filled them with small boxes of buns and streusel, hoping I could convince someone to order once they had a taste of Plain Treats. It turned out to be a bad idea. Everything was on the flat side by the time I arrived. Thankfully, I checked before offering the samples.

As I was getting ready to leave town, I stopped by the café again. Deciding I had nothing to lose, I took in the samples for Kendra and Wes.

Kendra was making a BLT, obviously for herself, and Wes wasn’t in sight.

“I brought you something,” I said. “Samples.” I placed the boxes on the worktable. “Everything’s a little smushed, but it all still tastes really good.”

She put tomato slices on top of the bacon. “Well, thanks, sweetheart. Wes and I still haven’t decided. Want to stick around for a cup of coffee?”

“Can’t,” I said. “I’m on my bike and need to get back. Call me when you’re ready to place an order.” I grinned.

She shook her head and smiled. “You’re too much.”

I waved as I hurried out the back door.

On Thursday Pierre offered his first lesson on bread making. It was to be a simple loaf of French bread. I’d first made one when I was nine. Still, I listened attentively and even took notes. Although it was interesting to watch Pierre go through the steps, I didn’t learn anything new.

On Friday Eddie asked me if I’d be going to church on Sunday. It was at their house. I told him I would consider it.

Millie hadn’t been over to the bakery since Wednesday because she’d been home cooking and cleaning. On Saturday I made cookies—snickerdoodles, peanut butter, and chocolate chip—for the service, plus a big pot
of bean soup and an industrial-sized tray of corn bread. Luke drove the food over that evening in Rosalee’s buggy.

The next morning I decided to attend the service, mostly out of curiosity and because Eddie wanted me to. Rosalee and I walked through the woods together. The day was a sunny spring day, cool but with the promise of warmth to come. I was a bit nervous as Rosalee introduced me to members of her district. Some I recognized from the bakery, but many of them I didn’t. One of the older people asked me about my grandmother, but it seemed most didn’t know who I was. I’d learned from Rosalee that I didn’t have many relatives left in the area. Quite a lot of the Mennonite offspring had moved west, and the only one of my grandmother’s brothers who’d had children was Gerry.

Millie and Eddie greeted me warmly, and Luke gave me a shy smile. Their mother took my hand and squeezed it, thanked me for the cookies and soup, and then introduced me to her husband.

Darryl took off his hat, showing an almost entirely bald head with just a fringe of dark brown hair to match his long, full beard. He was tall and wide and seemed a little gruff, but he wasn’t the ogre I expected. Ezra had been exaggerating.

As Rosalee and I took our seats on the women’s side of the Klines’ shed, toward the back, I began to relax. Because I was going to marry Ezra someday, I needed to become comfortable in an Amish church service. I also needed to work at learning Pennsylvania Dutch, something I hoped Eddie could help me with.

I estimated there were probably close to eighty people at the church service, maybe more. Of course, a large portion were children, sitting up on the backless benches, looking straight ahead. I knew, from going to services with
Mammi
, that sometime during the morning parents would take the most restless of the children out for a break, but the majority of them would endure the long stretches of songs, sermons, and prayers. I admired the stamina of Amish children.

The first song, from the
Ausbund,
was in German and lasted about twenty minutes—or at least it felt like it. The second one was no better. The Scripture reading was also in German. I could make out a few words here and there, but as the bishop started the teaching segment in Pennsylvania Dutch, my mind began to wander.

Zed and I had texted the night before, but he was giving me less and less information. I sensed it was because he was spending more time with Freddy and didn’t want to divulge that, but when I asked about it he didn’t give me an answer. Mom and Zed were beginning to feel more and more distant, as did all of Lancaster County.

The preacher’s voice fell to a near whisper—obviously he was emphasizing something. He was fairly young and extra good looking with blond hair and dark eyes. I wished I could understand what he was saying because he sounded very kind and the others listened attentively—except for Eddie. He was making a face at me. I quickly looked away, determined not to encourage him. Two hours later, by the end of the long service, Eddie had his head tucked against Luke’s side and was fast asleep.

When it finally ended, I went to the house with Rosalee to help Cora and Millie pull the meal together. Cora looked better than the evening I met her and seemed to be holding up fine.

The tables in the kitchen and living room were already set. Men started bringing in the benches from the service and putting one on each side of each table. I realized there were tables set up in the basement too when the men started hauling benches down there. It seemed Tom was in charge of that task because he stood at the door and directed the men. Darryl must still have been outside.

It wasn’t long until it was time for the meal to be served. I knew the men and women sat at separate tables. I also knew that it usually took two seatings for the entire district to eat, and that was probably truer here at the Klines’ than in most homes because their house was small.

I waited with Rosalee while the first group ate. We refilled water pitchers and then put the cookies and other desserts out on a long table. I knew she hadn’t contributed any pies from the bakery, but it looked as if other women had purchased some of our pies and brought them along.

Finally, Rosalee, Cora, Millie, and I sat down together with our bowls of soup. When we were finishing up, Eddie wiggled onto the bench between Rosalee and me, looking up at me with his big gray eyes.

“Yep,” he said in English. “I’m going to court you some day.”

The women all laughed, and I gave his shoulder a squeeze, realizing I felt a sense of belonging that I hadn’t experienced since I left Lancaster County. It was the way I once felt with Ezra’s family. That made me sad.
When I returned, would they be accepting of me, both as a member of the church and as Ezra’s wife?

I began gathering the empty bowls around me, and as I stood I realized Luke was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching me. He blushed and then walked through to the living room. As I began washing the dishes, he came back through with the first of the benches. Soon they would all be stacked back in the church wagon and on their way to the home where services would be held in two weeks.

It was plenty warm enough for people to visit outside, and after Millie and I had finished the last of the cleanup, we went out and sat with some of the younger people.

“Are you coming to the singing tonight?” one of the younger teen girls asked.

Millie said she wasn’t sure; it depended on how her
mamm
was feeling. I could see that hosting the church service would tire Cora out.

“How about Luke?” the girl asked, but Millie only shrugged.

“Naomi will be there,” the girl teased, but then, without missing a beat, she turned toward me. “Are you going, Ella?”

“Probably not,” I answered, not wanting to explain that, first of all, I hadn’t been invited, and second of all, even though I’d felt a sense of community I didn’t feel as if I belonged.

As I loaded Rosalee’s pots and pans into the buggy, a man’s firm voice drew my attention.

It was Darryl, standing in the doorway of the shed.

“Eddie,” he called out.

The boy was scampering across the barnyard, a kitten in his hands, toward the shed.

“I already asked you to sweep up once.”

Eddie let the kitten go and walked toward his
daed
, his head down.

I walked back to the house for Rosalee but bumped into Luke.

“Oh, sorry,” he said to me, stepping wide, but then he stopped, watching Eddie grab the broom.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Seems to be.”

It was obvious Darryl ran a pretty tight ship.

Luke turned to me. “Have you met our minister?”

I shook my head.

“Preacher Jacob,” he called out.

He was twenty feet away but hurried over, his hand outstretched.

“Welcome,” he said, shaking my hand. He didn’t seem to be thirty yet. His wife joined us. She was pretty, with blond hair and blue eyes. They didn’t have any children with them.

“Could you understand the sermon?” the preacher asked.

I told him I could make out a few words.

“Feel free to have Rosalee translate next time. She can whisper as I speak.”

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” I said.

“You won’t be. I’d rather have it that way. Or I can speak in English.”

My eyes must have betrayed my surprise.

“It’s not unheard of,” he said. “If you have any questions, let me know. But please come back. We’d love to have you join us regularly.”

His wife nodded.

“This is Marilyn.” Jacob stepped back and put his hand on her elbow.

She took my hand too. She was probably not much older than Millie. I wondered how long they had been married.