The Bridesmaid (24 page)

T
he following Saturday, Joanna went riding again with Jake. When she asked, he confessed that the tales he told were true ones, some of which he'd heard from his grandfather. “He liked to embellish nearly everything,” Jake told her.

“So they're family stories, then?”

“Oh jah, who'd ever think of makin' such things up? Real life is much stranger than fiction, ain't?”

Fiction.
There it was again.

“Have you ever read a made-up book?” she asked.

“Oh, maybe a handful of mystery novels.” He glanced at her, looking mighty dapper in his white dress shirt and black vest. “Have you?”

“Well, since we're becoming such
gut
friends, I'll tell ya a little secret.”

He leaned his head over. “I'm all ears.”

“I've read quite a few novels, actually.”

“Love stories, maybe?” He chuckled. “Make-believe—all lies, ya know.”

“But a reflection of our relationship with the great Lover of our souls, I like to think,” she stated.

He looked surprised, then nodded, evidently in agreement.

They were getting along so well, Joanna was thankful she'd agreed to continue seeing him. Maybe Jake
was
the answer to her prayer. Maybe in time he could help her forget Eben, once and for all.

That night, she and Cora Jane whispered and giggled, and Joanna told her all about Jake's convincing tellings. But she kept back their discussion about fiction, still sensitive about her former story writing. Would she be up to facing Preacher Yoder when he returned? Joanna couldn't help but worry about what he had up his sleeve.

After the ironing was done on Tuesday, Joanna and Cora Jane went over to Mammi Sadie's and helped her put up sweet corn all afternoon. It was the hottest day in August thus far, but none of them complained, not with the thought of delicious canned corn to enjoy come autumn and winter.

While the corn was simmering, Joanna slipped her grandmother a little poem of encouragement she'd written earlier that morning upon arising, knowing how stressful Dawdi's situation was for dear Mammi. His mind was slipping more often these days.

“Well, aren't
you
nice!” Mammi Sadie said, opening the poem. She read it silently, tears springing to her eyes, then opened her ample arms to Joanna, who couldn't help feeling ever so joyful at this heartfelt response.

“Heard you've written a lot of these poems for various folks,” she said.

Joanna was reticent to own up. “Oh, it's just something I do to spread cheer.”
And keeps me honest before the Lord God, too,
she thought, wishing her passion for story writing would fade for good.

Dawdi Joseph began to babble about his brothers and other relatives who'd passed away. But when he talked of his school days, his eyes sparkled, especially as he recalled the happy memory of helping raise cocker spaniel puppies to sell.

“Did ya ever get attached to any of the pups?” Cora Jane asked, drawing him out as he sat near the back door, just rocking.

“Oh jah . . . there was one black one with the saddest eyes you ever did see, and the way he'd just sit and look at ya, cock his little head, and nearly talk to ya . . . well, it warms my heart.” Dawdi's shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath, revisiting the past. “In the end, that one went to our neighbors down the way. Mighty nice, too.”

“You must've visited him sometimes, then, jah?” Joanna asked, hoping to keep their grandfather with them in the present a while longer.

“Why, sure I did.”

“What did you name him—or did you?” Cora Jane asked, smiling at Joanna and giving her a knowing glance.

Dawdi nodded. “Called him Jigger. My, my, what an active pup he was. It seemed right.”

“ 'Cause he nearly danced a jig when you saw him?” asked Joanna. She enjoyed seeing Dawdi so caught up in the recollection.

“Oh, goodness, did he ever.” Dawdi went quiet and stopped rocking. Then, stretching his arms, he yawned and started murmuring, like he was talking to himself again—the way he often did these days.

“When was the last time you saw Jigger, Dawdi?” asked Cora Jane.

“Well, now, I 'spect he's round here somewheres.” He scooted back his chair, straining his head to look. “Here, Jigger, ol' boy . . . c'mon to your friend Joseph. Here, Jigger . . . Jigger.”

Heart breaking, Joanna had to turn away. She wondered if Mary Beiler's own Dawdi Abram ever lost track like this. As she recalled, Mary hadn't mentioned him at her birthday party. Perhaps because it was meant to be a very happy day.

Only eight women showed up at Mary's for the weekly quilting frolic. Joanna and Cora Jane helped stretch out the quilt, and then all of them worked to put it into the big frame. Because Mary was left-handed, she sat at one of the corners of her choosing and the rest of them filled in, finding their spots across from or near sisters or cousins. Cora Jane whispered that she wanted to sit right next to Joanna, which pleased Joanna no end. In time it would be like they'd never had a falling out at all.

Neither Ella Mae nor Mattie was in attendance. When Joanna asked about both women, Mary said Ella Mae was suffering with a miserable summer cold, and Mattie had stayed home to look after her. “A woman that age has to be careful, ya know?” Mary said as she picked up her thimble and needle.

Joanna agreed and smiled over at her.
Dear Mary, always thinking of others.

And then, as though Mary had been privy to Joanna and Ella Mae's talk the day they'd put up peaches with Mamma, she said she'd been reading in the Old Testament. “The book of Ruth, actually . . . and it just struck me again how much love Ruth had for Naomi.”

“For whither thou goest, I will go. . . .”
Joanna hadn't forgotten that verse, either. It felt to her like yet another nudge back to Eben, and she wondered if she ought to make a list of everything pointing in his direction.
Then maybe I should make another list for Jake.

“What're you thinking 'bout?” Cora Jane leaned over to ask.

“Why, was I smiling at nothin' again?”

Cora Jane giggled a little. “It's like I can read your expressions anymore.”

“Well, that's what sisters do, jah?”

Cora Jane nodded and glanced at her again, all smiles.

That night after family worship, Joanna read the entire book of Ruth, lingering on the verse Ella Mae had quoted.

“
Is
this a sign from God?” she whispered, staring at the tall gas lamp with its shiny glass chimney from her spot on the bed.

Then, admiring the old wedding quilt again, she thanked the Lord God for this legacy of faith passed down to her. And for divine guidance in her life.

She rose and placed her Bible back on the dresser, and as she turned, her eyes fell on the hope chest.
I ought to put my writing notebooks somewhere else
, she thought. They were such a temptation. So many feelings raced through her, she scarcely knew what to think.

She started when a knock came at the door. “Come in, Cora Jane,” she said.

“Well, it's Mamma.”

Stepping to the door, Joanna opened it. “Jah?”

“Your father's receiving a visit from Preacher Yoder on behalf of our elderly deacon.” Mamma's face looked pale in the lamp's amber light. “Preacher wants you there, too.”

Lovina Yoder's words flew back to her, and Joanna dreaded what was to come. “When's he comin' by?”

“One of these mornings, your father says.”

“I'll be ready.”

Mamma frowned hard, her lower lip trembling. “Sorry to be the one to tell ya. Your father, well . . .”

“I know—he's a busy man,” Joanna said, excusing his wariness.

Nodding, Mamma patted Joanna's arm. “I'm here, if ya want to talk 'bout it.”

These were the gentle words she needed to hear. “I'm not afraid, Mamma. All right? Please don't worry.”

“I'll pray.” Mamma turned to leave.

“Denki,” Joanna said, wishing her story writing hadn't caused such a stir and put an ache in her mother's heart.
And poor Dat's, as well.

T
he light coming from within the barn Thursday evening was a stark contrast to that of the gas lamp in the kitchen. Eben's father had summoned him to the makeshift office in one corner of the old barn for an unexpected
“meeting, of sorts”
—or so Daed had called it. The lantern light glowed eerily on such a dark night, and the animals were restless. Eben could sense something amiss, and not only in the atmosphere. His father's face was unusually grim.

For the past few weeks, Eben had noticed something quite different about his father and even considered perhaps Daed might be ill. Yet it was the oddest thing—some days he seemed entirely optimistic, then the next day downright dreary. Eben had never known Daed to be unsettled like this, and he wondered what might be on his mind. Maybe he was going to bring up some newfangled gadget that would make work easier for them both. If so, was it something the bishop approved?

Daed awaited him, sitting slumped at his beat-up wooden desk. He looked tired . . . defeated.

What's troubling him?

Immediately, Eben thought of Leroy. Had his father received news from him? But then again, what could be worse than Leroy's leaving the People, his heart no longer kneeling in contrition before almighty God?

So why'd Mamm urge me here on his behalf?
Eben wondered as he entered the murky glow of light. “You wanted to see me, Daed?”

“Pull up a chair, son.” His father sat straighter, filling his lungs slowly. “Need to bend your ear awhile.”

Eben took a seat, ready to listen.

“I've come to a hard decision. One I've been mulling over for long enough now.”

Eben's shoulders tensed into knots as he braced for the news that, nearly overnight, had the power to grow gray hair in his father's beard, and plant more crinkles around Daed's eyes and mouth. The weight of it had seemingly cloaked him with a gray pallor.

“Some days ya get the bear, other days the bear gets you,” Daed began.

Never before had Eben heard this saying from Daed's lips—so uncharacteristic of him. What could it possibly mean?

Even though Joanna had pleaded with her mother not to worry, she had tossed about for half the night, doing plenty of that herself. And upon rising the next morning, her legs felt as wobbly as newborn calves. She made her way downstairs to shower and dress, then helped Mamma make breakfast. All the while, she kept her eye out for an early arrival by Preacher Yoder, in case he chose to appear today. It was well-known in the hollow that Preacher Yoder liked to arrive early, often surprising folk as he checked up a bit.

But Preacher didn't come that day or the next, and Joanna couldn't have been more apprehensive if she were expecting the bishop himself.

After the Sunday Singing, the first one in September, Joanna noticed Cora Jane talking with Mary Rose Witmer and two other cousins across the barn. Joanna managed to catch her sister's eye and motioned to her. “Come join us,” she mouthed, thinking it might be fun to include Cora Jane in small talk with her and Jake.

Once Cora Jane came over and made a little circle of three, Jake told a story about a bunch of fellows who'd gotten their feet tied up while they were sleeping at a campout one night. They'd ended up tripping all over themselves when they got up in the morning—falling flat on their faces.

“Why on earth?” Cora Jane asked, inching in closer.

Jake grinned. “Well, it's like this: They were all getting hitched that comin' week. The single fellas tend to pick on the ones who are published to be married, ya know.”

“There are so many pranks for the groom, ain't so?” Cora Jane said. “Oh, tell us another prank you've heard.”

With that, Jake was off, this time with a tale about another cousin. Cora Jane's eyes were big as he wrapped up, and then one topic of conversation shifted effortlessly into another, until they were talking easily about shared interests. Cora Jane seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself, and Joanna could see how exceptionally taken Jake was with Cora Jane's spunk.

Joanna felt amused at being left far behind in this exchange. And later, when Jake asked if Joanna minded if they gave Cora Jane a ride home, too, Cora Jane protested demurely. But it was quite obvious there was a real spark between her and Jake, and Joanna realized she didn't mind in the least.

Jake seemed to enjoy the attention of both girls as they rode along in his handsome open carriage. Joanna couldn't keep from smiling as she looked back and forth between Jake and Cora Jane, like a witness to a Ping-Pong match. She was smashed like cheese in a sandwich between the two of them, and as they talked animatedly, she noticed that this was the third time they'd passed the house and not stopped to let Cora Jane out.

Eventually, as the hour grew late, Cora Jane graciously suggested she should be getting home. Joanna didn't object because she wanted to talk with Jake for a bit once her sister left for the house. She would be ever so cautious, though, in how she phrased things.

When asked, Jake didn't deny the attraction. Joanna gave him the green light to pursue courting Cora Jane. “If you'd like to.”

“Are you sure 'bout this?” he asked, leaning closer. “I'd never want to hurt you, Joanna.”

“We have a deal, remember? Just friends.”

He nodded much too emphatically, and she couldn't help but laugh. “I'm perfectly fine if you want to take my sister out.”

Jake studied her. “Only if you're absolutely certain.”

“I am. And just think, if you two end up together, we'll be brother and sister, which is even better than friends, jah?”

He chuckled. “Not always. Sometimes siblings can be a pain in the neck, if you know what I mean.”

While that was certainly true enough, Joanna didn't admit to it—not now, given the way Cora Jane and she were getting along so well.

A crescent moon appeared over the cornfield to the east, and Jake kindly mentioned that it was probably time to call it a night. He came around the open carriage, helped Joanna down, and walked her partway up the lane, just as he had always done before. But tonight, Joanna guessed, was to be the very last time.

Cora Jane's lantern was still lit and burning when Joanna slipped over to her room. Her sister's hair was a sheet of flowing flaxen over one side of her pale pink nightgown. She sat in bed and smiled immediately. “Did Jake tell more stories after I left? I must've missed some
gut
ones, jah?”

“Are you honestly sayin' that's what you want to know?”

Cora Jane's eyes glimmered. “What else is there to ask?”

“Oh, well . . . I wouldn't want to spoil the fun.”

“For me or for you?” Laughing softly, Cora Jane reached for her hand. “You do know something, don't you?”

“Maybe.”

“Goodness' sake!” Cora Jane blushed.

They were both laughing now, and it felt like old times. Cora Jane patted her side of the bed, inviting Joanna to stay awhile longer.

“Jake is
gut
for you, ain't so?” Cora Jane said as she turned on her side to look Joanna square in the face.

“I never thought I could be friends with a fella, ya know? It's kind of peculiar.”

Cora Jane was suddenly quiet.

“He's learned some important courting lessons,” Joanna said. “Knows how to behave on a date, for sure.”

“I wondered 'bout that. But it's pretty obvious he got some
gut
advice from somewhere.”

Joanna didn't mention Ella Mae Zook or that she knew Jake had gone to talk to her last April.

“He's grown up a lot—maybe because of bein' friends with you, Joanna.”

She shrugged. “Who's to say?”

“And the two of you have something big in common, jah?” said Cora Jane. “A real love of stories.”

“That we do.” Sliding her hand beneath the pillow, Joanna began to relax. “He tells them so freely.”

“Do you miss your story writing terribly?” Cora Jane's voice was soft, even regretful.

“Not as much as at first. If I didn't have my poetry to fall back on, I'd miss it even more. The Lord's given me another way to express my creativity, I guess.”

“Well, no matter what you write, it's a gift.”

This surprised Joanna. “What a nice thing to say.”

“Nice . . . and mighty confusing, too, ain't?” Cora Jane glanced at the small clock on her bed shelf.

Nodding, Joanna refused to think about the confusing part, feeling quite sure she knew what was coming with Preacher Yoder's impending visit.

“You'd better head for bed,” Cora Jane said, “or you'll end up falling asleep in your clothes right here.”

Joanna opened her sleepy eyes and looked over at her sister. “I'm glad we can talk like this again.”

“Me too.”

With that, Joanna got up, said good-night, and walked to her own room. Once there, although feeling tired, she lit her lantern and settled into bed to read from the book of Proverbs. After a time, she bowed her head and folded her hands in a prayer of thanksgiving for God's goodness and grace in all of their lives. Then she outened the gas lamp.