The Bridesmaid (18 page)

She slipped the letters back into the book and closed the small door. The discovery of letters from the other Joanna was so interesting, especially right on the heels of having received the quilt. Why
had
Mamma chosen to name her after this woman whose letters were so special that Mammi Kurtz had saved them all these years?

Sitting on her grandparents' old bed, Joanna contemplated her heritage—so many devout folk, like her two sets of grandparents. Wise folk . . . like Ella Mae Zook.

She leaned back on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. She thought again of the Wise Woman's surprising advice. “She was right,” Joanna whispered, letting her tears flow freely now that she was alone.

I
n many ways, Joanna was thankful she hadn't told Cora Jane or Mamma about Eben Troyer's recent visit. She was an emotional mess, and while she did her best to conceal her heartache, she was also aware of her parents' concern. So she tried to hide how she felt during the day, grateful for the time she had to herself while Mamma went to the hospital to visit Mammi Kurtz, who had indeed shattered her hip and was facing a lengthy recovery.

Adding to Joanna's pain was the rift between her and her sister. Never before had Joanna known such discord in their home. She and Cora Jane actively avoided each other. Mamm had stepped in to keep the flame from blazing out of control, ordering housework so that the two sisters were never thrown together—at least, not alone. The girls' work outdoors was even more conducive to the standoff, as they rarely crossed paths. If one was weeding and hoeing the vegetable garden, the other carried feed or water to the barn animals. Joanna wondered if things could ever be made right between them.

After two solid months of melancholy, Joanna was exhausted from crying each night, weary of her grief. She decided to make the effort to go on a van trip with other youth in the church district in mid-June—a tour of the Ephrata Cloister National Historic Landmark. The tour would help her get her mind off herself. Besides, it was time to dismiss Eben Troyer and get on with living.

On the way back from Ephrata, Freckles Jake asked to sit beside her, and amidst inquisitive looks from the other girls, Joanna agreed.
They think he's trouble.
But Joanna wasn't the sort of young woman who would put up with anything inappropriate from a fellow, so she ignored the initial stares. As for her opinion, thus far the only real drawback was his age. Jake was turning twenty-four in the fall, a full year younger than Joanna.

Pretty soon, Jake was telling her one story after another, weaving together people and places until everything else around them seemed to fade. She was thoroughly entertained and amused, though she hadn't the least idea if the stories were true or not. Really, it didn't matter—she'd so desperately needed to laugh again!

Jake appeared delighted by her response and asked if she'd go riding with him. Joanna agreed but didn't commit to when that might be—still, she found herself actually looking forward to some more time with this fellow storyteller.

As for her own stories, Joanna had managed by sheer willpower to refrain from writing since Preacher Yoder's visit, but her resolve was waning—she was that eager to express herself once more. And late that night, after returning from the trip to Ephrata, she could hold off no longer. Jake's remarkable tales had stirred up her creativity all over again.

She pressed a doorstop beneath her closed door and pulled out the writing notebook from the binder in the hope chest. What if she could replace the first pages of her most recent story by rewriting the opening? And as she recast it, she realized her turns of phrase were actually better than those in the former attempt.
How strange is that?
Joanna mused, happily writing for more than an hour, the words pouring onto the page. As before, she was transported to another place, losing all sense of time . . . and loving every minute.

Never once did she consider the need to be repentant for this breach, nor did she feel guilty. If she could just finish this one last love story, she would cease her writing for good.

The very next night, and the next, Joanna engaged in the same activity, writing frantically in the secret haven of her room until she was helplessly drawn back into her old pattern of daily creating a make-believe world on paper. But she'd wised up considerably, vigilant now to hide her notebook, not wanting anyone to read the sad pages of her fictitious love story and guess that her own romance had also come to a painful end.

On a sultry Saturday near the close of June, Joanna longed for a breeze as she dressed for her first real date with Jake. Oh, to have a nice big overhead fan, like the one Ephraim Yoder had recently installed at the General Store! Not electric, of course, but run by an air compressor.

She eyed two recent notes on her dresser, both from Jake. He'd sent them in the last week, mostly humorous anecdotes intended, she was sure, to make her smile. She guessed he'd picked up on her appreciation for his “tellin's”—the snippets of stories he so obviously delighted in sharing.

Before checking her hair one last time, she lightly dabbed a rose scent behind each ear, then walked primly downstairs. Cora Jane had already left to meet her beau, or so Joanna assumed, and Mamma sat on the back porch with Dat, both eating tapioca pudding as Joanna made her way outside. She waved shyly as she left, catching Mamma's eye. “I won't be late,” she said softly, and Dat nodded, fidgeting.

They must suspect I'm going out with a new fellow,
she thought.
If so, they must be relieved.
She'd moped around the house long enough.
That's all behind me now.
She wished she hadn't put all her eggs in one basket with Eben. But there had never been anyone else for her . . . till now.

Presently, she walked barefoot down the lane, the evening still warm enough that no wrap was needed for later. An owl hooted somewhere high in the dusky cottonwood, and Joanna felt his keen gaze on her.

Will Jake entertain me with his stories again?
she wondered as flecks of the past crossed her mind.
Will he help me forget Eben?

Eben felt like he was swimming underwater as he trotted his driving horse on the way to pick up Ada Kemp. It was his first social outing since he'd returned from Lancaster County. At the thought, he heaved a sigh. “Wonder what Joanna's doing tonight,” he said aloud, realizing he'd have to quit thinking about his former sweetheart. Wouldn't be fair to any other girl he started seeing.

The evening sky was a hazy blue, and the sound of crickets already filled the air. He forced himself to think about nineteen-year-old Ada Kemp, his date tonight.
Ain't the smartest thing I've ever done,
he decided, knowing the pickle he'd gotten himself in by smiling at Ada last week at Sunday Singing. Ada's older brother had taken notice and twisted Eben's arm into asking her out.
Well, not actually twisted,
Eben thought.

He urged the horse onward as he grew closer to Ada's green-shuttered farmhouse. If she even remembered to show up at the preappointed spot, he hardly knew what to say to her.

Maybe she'll forget. . . .

He was out of practice; it had been some time since he'd gone through the motions of a typical courtship. Eben frowned, still disgusted with himself for unintentionally leading Joanna on for so long. For that he was the most sorry of all.

“If I could just go back and do everything differently,” he muttered, yet he realized the end result would be the same. The exact same wretched outcome. He shook his head at the depressing thought, and just then spotted Ada walking this way, wearing a bright lavender dress—a salve for sore eyes. She smiled demurely but didn't wave . . . and he couldn't help himself: He missed Joanna all the more.

Joanna hadn't realized how strong Jake Lantz was until he offered his hand to help her into his open buggy. She felt featherlight as he pulled her up, and she was soon at ease as he remarked on the especially warm temperatures and the fact that there were no storms brewing tonight in any direction. “It'll make for a nice buggy ride.” The way he said it, so casual like, made her feel even more relaxed.

She was equally surprised to see the black leather bucket seats and plush carpet he'd installed. Trying not to smile too broadly, she thought,
You just never know what a day will bring!

“Did ya have a nice big supper?” Jake asked, looking mighty fit in his black broadfall trousers, white shirt, and black vest. He hadn't worn his straw hat this time, his clean hair blowing gently in the slight breeze.

Was he asking if she wanted a snack? Joanna wanted to be polite, not sound like a pig. “I had plenty to eat, jah.”

“That so?” He gave her a mischievous grin. “I've noticed you always make room for ice cream.”

“Really, now?”

“Well, you've eaten your fair share at the youth gatherings.”

She chuckled but felt a little embarrassed, realizing he had been watching her for quite some time.

They talked about other things. Then Jake brought up her grandmother's fall and the day he'd met Eben. “Do you mind if I ask if you're still in touch with him?”

He certainly had every right to know if she was free to date. And for some reason she felt comfortable enough to say that Eben was gone from her life. “We wrote back and forth for a long time, though,” Joanna added.

Jake looked at her again, concern in his eyes. “You sound upset.”

“I sure am!”

He smiled quickly. “That's all right—I don't mind bein' your punching bag . . . if that's what ya need.”

She shook her head, looking away. “Sorry. It ain't like that. Shouldn't've said anything.”

“'Tis all right. You're feelin' better already, jah?”

Goodness, he'd seen right through her. “Guess I do.”

The horse pulled them faster, nearly at a gallop, and Joanna glimpsed flashes of black soil between the rows of soybeans on either side of the road. No question, Jake was showing off. And just how had he known she loved a good joyride?
What else does he know about me, for pity's sake?