The Bridesmaid (23 page)

A
ugust peaches were coming on almost faster than Mamma could keep up. For that reason, neighbors Mattie, Ella Mae, and Rachel came over for a canning bee right after breakfast Tuesday. Mamma, Joanna, and Cora Jane helped set up an assembly line for peeling and pitting. They gave Ella Mae the most comfortable chair in the house, situating her away from the sunny windows.

They jabbered in Pennsylvania Dutch, midwife Mattie telling stories about the babies she'd delivered—and three she'd nearly lost—over the many years. Rachel and Mamma listened but blushed and rolled their eyes at times, no doubt because Joanna and Cora Jane were present.

Once Rachel could get a word in, she shared the plans for her daughter Mary's upcoming birthday. “The children are all makin' little cards to hang up on a string, over the kitchen doorway . . . like at Christmastime.”

“Aw, that's nice,” Mamma said, placing the sliced peaches in slightly salty water to preserve their natural color.

“The bishop's son Levi is quite the artist,” Rachel added. “Hard to know how that'll turn out, with his father overseein' things.”

“Just maybe he'll see the benefit of this wondrous gift from the Good Lord,” Ella Mae said. “That's what.”

The room went silent, and Rachel and Mamma exchanged concerned glances. But Joanna knew, as did all the others, that the Wise Woman exercised no restraint in speaking her mind.

Eventually, the talk turned to putting up pears and plums in the coming days and weeks, and making jam, too. Mattie complained a little about needing to patch her husband's work pants by hand. “An unpleasant task, ya know,” she said, sighing.

“Ach, just be thankful your husband still lives,” widow Ella Mae muttered to her daughter, though they'd all heard.

Later, Rachel mentioned
der Debbich
—the bedspread—she was looking forward to making come fall. “I'm doing it in blues and yellows, with a perty black border that'll make the colors stand right out.”

Ella Mae said she'd laid eyes on a hand-woven coverlet made from wool at an antique shop in Bird-in-Hand recently. “Carded and spun by hand, too,” she said, dimples showing.

“That'd be a real chore, spinning,” Cora Jane said pleasantly. Though still somewhat downcast at times, her overall mood seemed much better since her heart-to-heart with Joanna a couple nights ago.

When it came time to stop and make the noon meal, Mamma took charge of the kitchen, requesting some help from Cora Jane, Rachel, and Mattie. She'd asked Joanna in advance to keep Ella Mae company, so Joanna led the older woman into the small sitting area around the corner from the kitchen.

“How you doin', dearie?” Ella Mae asked once she was settled in Mamma's chair.

“All right some days . . . others, not so
gut.
It's the way of life, I'm learning.”

“Heard your young man came twice to see ya, ain't?”

Jake must've told her. . . .

“Well, once to visit and once to part ways.”

“That so?” Ella Mae scratched her head. “Now, wait a minute . . . didn't I hear that, too?”

Everyone's heard by now,
thought Joanna.

“Thing is, I can't seem to forget him, even though I've tried.” She shared that she'd gone out with a fellow from around here. “Someone lots of fun, and a really convincing storyteller, too.” She wondered if Ella Mae might guess whom she meant, although that wasn't why she'd mentioned Jake in so many words.

“Ah, I daresay I know just who you're talking 'bout. A right nice boy, he is.”

Joanna wouldn't say Jake's name, thinking it could tempt Ella Mae to divulge a confidence. But she gave a little nod. “Honestly, though, it'll be mighty hard to forget Eben Troyer.”

By the look in Ella Mae's eyes, the wheels inside her head were turning. “Are ya wantin' to know what I'll say to that?”

Joanna was taken off guard. “I didn't bring it up for counsel, no.”

“Why don't you tell me more 'bout this young man who's captured your heart.”

This time Joanna did not hesitate from beginning to end, every last detail she felt comfortable sharing. “But now I don't know how to be round anyone but him.”

Ella Mae observed her intently, then asked if she'd ever thought of going out to Indiana. “To meet his family, I mean. Surprise him like he did you, maybe?”

“I'm stuck here, I'm afraid.”

“Well, that just ain't true, dear girl. No one's stuck anywhere unless they choose to be. The Lord God guides those who are moving forward.” Such startling words . . . words that resonated in the depths of Joanna's heart.

In that moment, she remembered how impressed Eben had been with Cora Jane's frankness—he'd even indicated that he liked a woman with gumption.

“Ever ponder Ruth's pledge to her mother-in-law, Naomi, in the book of Ruth?” Ella Mae asked, seemingly out of the blue.

“Not really, why?”

“Well, just listen to this.” Ella Mae wore a smile on her wrinkled face. “ ‘For whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God,' ” Ella Mae recited.

Joanna recalled hearing that plenty of times in Preacher Yoder's wedding sermons.

“So now, if it was
gut
enough for a young widow to declare to her mother-in-law, why not a girl to the man she loves?” Ella Mae locked eyes with hers. “Chust think 'bout it, Joanna. That, and pray 'bout it, too.”

All the rest of the day, and throughout that week, Joanna thought and prayed and thought some more, until that Friday evening. She'd purposely gone walking on the field lanes where she and Eben had strolled together, hand in hand. Again, Ella Mae's words came back to her, like an echo. Then suddenly, they stopped.

The phone was ringing in the little shanty in Dat's field.

Joanna froze right there.
Is Eben calling? Can it be?

Heart hammering, she ran through the cornfield, rushing past the countless rows, thrusting the stalks away from her face as she ran faster and faster.

The phone continued its ringing, like a clanging cowbell in the distance, as she groped her way toward its beautiful sound.

Think, think, Joanna! Which Friday is it? Which?

Then, stopping for a second, she knew. “Oh, Eben . . .”

The ringing continued as she peered on tiptoe over the tops of the tasseled corn, the tall telephone shack before her like a lighthouse in a vast green sea.

She moved forward, dashing to the shack. There, she pushed open the wooden door as the phone continued to ring. Reaching for it, she felt faint at the prospect of Eben's voice on the line. But wasn't he long gone from her?

Still, she had to know. Lifting the receiver off its cradle, she managed a hello.

Just then, like a feather flying away in the breeze, Joanna heard the line click as the phone went dead. And her heart sank.

Was it you, Eben?

She couldn't help wondering how long the phone had been ringing, perhaps even before she'd come within earshot. Feeling weak, Joanna leaned against the familiar wall, staring straight out the only window at the sky with its billowing clouds. And she cried, unashamed.

“O dear Lord in heaven,” she wept. “I don't know what to do . . . or where to turn. Eben's in my constant thoughts. Please remove my love for him, if it's your will.” She reached to touch the black receiver, recalling Eben's voice in her ear, oh, so many times. “If you have a different plan, will you make that path clear and ever so straight . . . and lead me back to Eben? Amen.”

When she'd managed to dry her eyes and gather her wits, Joanna headed through the maze of cornstalks, over the field lanes, and past the corncrib toward home.

T
he afternoon birthday celebration for the bishop's wife the next day turned out to be a hen's party with a mystery meal, complete with cryptic descriptions of the menu items and various group games, including Dutch Blitz for all twenty or so women present. The atmosphere was as festive as any Joanna had ever been a part of, and jovial, too. For a while she actually forgot herself and entered into the gaiety, relishing the fun.

Dear Mary, wearing her best royal blue dress and matching cape apron, looked a bit sheepish about receiving so many pretty cards, as well as a few handmade gifts from close relatives and friends. As gracious as Joanna had always known her to be, Mary dutifully thanked each of them before the party disbanded.

On the way out the back door, Joanna was surprised when Preacher Yoder's round-faced wife, Lovina, stopped her and quietly said her husband wanted to meet with her again. “But he's goin' on a trip, so it won't be for a week or so.”

Why's she telling me this now—so I can worry myself sick?

“He wants you to know he'll contact your father when the time is right,” the older woman added, a serious look on her face.

Joanna felt self-conscious about being singled out like this, especially at such a happy gathering. “Is this concerning—”

“He'll speak directly to
you,
” Lovina Yoder said, touching her arm. “All in
gut
time.”

Nodding, Joanna said she'd wait to hear further from her father about this. But now her stomach was churning. How long would she have to wait for the next scolding? At least she could honestly tell the preacher about her prayer of contrition . . . and about having turned her back on writing make-believe stories, hard as it was. Something she'd decided to do to demonstrate her willing heart before God, and her love for the People.

“Denki,” Joanna said softly, though really there was nothing to thank her for.

“Have a nice day,” the preacher's wife said, smiling now.

Nice day? How on earth?

Joanna was relieved Cora Jane hadn't attended this get-together. Cora Jane was feeling crushed enough for having started all this by going to the deacon in the first place. But Salina was there, although she hadn't observed Joanna's encounter with Lovina. Here she came just now, out the back door, having stayed inside a bit longer to visit with the birthday girl.

“Can I get a ride home?” Salina asked Joanna, hurrying her pace. “I should prob'ly walk, but I need to start supper soon.”

“Sure.”

On the ride there, Joanna relived the unpleasant encounter with Lovina Yoder, whom she rarely spoke to, considering the woman's age and stature in the community.

“You're awful quiet,” Salina said. “Hope ya don't mind goin' out of your way.”

“Not at all.”

Up ahead, Joanna noticed Jake and his brother Jesse driving their market wagon home. Jake spotted her and waved.

She watched as Jake headed down the way, toward the Lantz home.
Are we merely friends?
she mused, wondering if this was a swift answer to yesterday's prayer in the phone shack.
Should I let him court me after all?

Salina sighed and it brought Joanna's attention back inside the buggy. “I'm feelin' tired today.”

“The heat's getting to all of us, jah?”

Salina agreed. “Ain't that the truth, though we can't complain compared to the high temperatures they've been having in Ohio and Indiana this week.”

Indiana . . .
Had Salina mentioned that state for any particular reason?

But her sister went on to talk about a number of circle letters she was writing to distant cousins out there in the Midwest. “Didja know we have a third cousin named Maria Riegsecker who lives in Shipshewana?”

Joanna sucked in a breath at the mention of Eben's hometown. “Never heard of her,” she managed to say.

“Jah, she was a Witmer like Mamma but married into an Indiana family. She's been askin' for Noah and me to come visit and bring the children, too. She runs a candle store and wants me to come and pick out whatever I'd like.”

“How nice,” Joanna replied absently.
Maria?
Had Eben ever mentioned her before? She didn't recall. “How long have you been writing circle letters with her?”

“Four years now. Maria's awful nice—kindhearted and generous. Says she has lots of empty bedrooms just waiting to be filled up when we visit.”

“Sounds like you'd have a
gut
time.”

“I think so, too, but getting Noah to take off during the summer is out of the question.”

“How old a woman is Maria?”

“Mamma's age, I'd guess, although I really don't know.”

“She makes candles, ya say?”

“All kinds of colors and scents. Hundreds of 'em, and they sell right off the shelves in her little shop above their stable.”

“Sounds pretty,” Joanna said. “I hope you can go sometime, Salina.”

“Maria lives right off the main street, she says, within walking distance of the Blue Gate Bakery, where she likes to go to purchase apple dumplings and pecan rolls.”

“Now you're makin' my mouth water!” Joanna smiled. “If you go, I'll send along some money for you to pick out a candle or two for me, all right?”

“Well, by the sound of it, Maria would be happy to treat anyone in the family,” Salina said. “You could come, too . . . help look after the children, maybe?”

Just thinking of being anywhere in the vicinity of Eben's neighborhood and not seeing him tore at Joanna's heart. “I don't know how I could get away, even in the fall,” she said.

They were coming up on Salina's house—Joanna could see the front yard jutting into view, just around the next bend. All this talk of Shipshewana was making her head spin. It was a good thing she was close to dropping Salina off.

“Nice to see you havin' a
gut
time today at Mary's.”

Joanna nodded. “I did.”
Except for the preacher's wife.

“Say, if you'd ever like to join in on Maria's circle letter, just let me know.” Salina paused, then opened her pocketbook and fished for a notepad and pen. “Here, I'll jot down her address for ya, if you'd like.”

It was funny seeing Salina so insistent, but Joanna did like the idea of writing to someone who was creative with something other than flowers or quilts. “Sure, I'll be glad to write her,” she said, not sure when she'd have time.

“Denki for the ride, sister!” With that, Salina got out of the carriage and walked toward the house, waving without turning around.

Looking at the slip of paper in her hand, Joanna saw that the street name was Peaceful Acres Lane.
Same as Eben's address!

“First the phone rings nearly off the hook . . . then I spot Jake. And now this,” she said to herself as she hurried the horse toward home. She thought of the beautiful quilt and smiled as she recalled her prayer last night, asking God to make the path clear. Goodness, but the path, if it could be called that, was all
ranklich
—tangled up!