by Amy Lillard
Matthew hesitated. “I wanted to ask you about something.” Something that’s been bothering me for a while now. But he didn’t say that last part.
Aaron patiently waited as Matthew gathered his words. It wouldn’t be this hard talking to Jason about this, but Aaron . . . he was such a pillar in their community. He didn’t want the man to look at him differently if he disapproved of his plans. And if he disapproved, would it make any difference in Matthew’s decisions? No. So why was he asking?
Because he wanted someone, anyone to say that he was doing the right thing by marrying Gracie. Yesterday Aaron had acted like he understood, but if he knew the rest of the story would he be as accepting?
“Matthew?” Aaron’s voice was quiet and questioning.
Matthew shook his head. “You know what? Never mind.” He started to turn around and leave, go back home, forget this burning need he had for approval.
“Where are the kids?” Aaron asked, effectively stopping him in his tracks.
Does he think I left them at home alone? Matthew turned to face Aaron once again. “Widow Kate came over to watch them.”
“So you hired a babysitter to come talk to me and you’re going to leave without even asking me whatever it was you came here to ask?”
When he put it like that . . .
“It’s about Gracie . . .” Matthew started.
Aaron nodded politely and once again waited for Matthew to continue.
“I know she wants a family,” Matthew said. “She’s told me that much. But I don’t know what else she’s getting from this marriage.”
A frown creased his brow as Aaron mulled over what Matthew was saying. “What is it you think she wants?”
He shrugged. “She said a family. I have to believe that’s it.”
“But you think there’s more.” It wasn’t quite a question.
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“‘There’s something fierce in the heart of a woman.’”
“What’s that?”
“Something my father always said. I really didn’t understand it until Hannah came back.”
“And you think Gracie . . .”
“I think Gracie has been taught her entire life to please those around her, at the expense of whatever it is she herself desires.”
Matthew let that wash over him. He could see that in her, that pleasing nature.
They both paused for a moment, letting the sounds of the morning wash over them. From somewhere a truck engine rumbled, but it was too far away for Matthew to care.
“I don’t want to have a traditional marriage with Gracie.”
Aaron turned swiftly to stare at him. “How’s that?” “You heard me.” He couldn’t say it again. Nor could he bring himself to explain.
“You said she wants a family,” Aaron pointed out.
“She’s marrying a family. We will already have children to care for. Five of them. Do we really need more?” So what if the average Amish family had something like ten kids? Five was plenty. Besides, he knew a whole slew of families that only had three or four kids. It was a sign of changing times.
“You said she wants a family,” Aaron said again, patiently.
“But she didn’t say that she has to have her own children.”
“You honestly don’t think that’s what she meant?”
That’s what he wanted to believe. “I don’t know,” he said, avoiding the real issue. He should have never brought it up. It was too personal an issue to talk about, even with someone he considered to be his best friend.
If he was being truthful, being his best friend wasn’t saying much. Matthew hardly had any friends at all in Pontotoc. And even less in Ohio now that he’d left. Still, this wasn’t the sort of thing a man talked about with just anybody.
“You have to talk to her,” Aaron said. “Before the wedding. You have to let her know that you don’t want more children.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” Aaron said emphatically. “And as soon as possible.”
Chapter Ten
As soon as possible would have been for him to go over there that afternoon, but he managed to find his way home instead. Maybe he had just forgotten. But once he was home, it was awfully hard to leave again. He had been doing that so much these past few days. He just wanted to rest, that was all. Maybe tomorrow.
After all, he had prayed for a miracle and surely that had happened by way of Gracie Glick. Perhaps it was wrong to mess things up when they were just going so well. He wouldn’t want to bring them ill fortune by not trusting in God to do what He had promised.
Not that he believed that God would send bad fortune raining down on top of their heads. He wasn’t sure God was all that interested in their day-to-day lives. Most people he knew were bored out of their minds. Would God be doubly so? Maybe even triply.
He couldn’t say his prayers hadn’t been answered. God had sent Gracie Glick to propose to him. How strange was that? Amish women weren’t so bold as to just up and ask a man to marry them. Especially not one they barely knew. And yet she had. Was she bold or stupid? Or maybe just fulfilling some divine insight that would pull the two of them together forever. Who was he to stand against God? And if God had indeed sent Gracie to him, then at least some of his prayers had been answered.
Except when he got back to the house, Stephen was home from school and Henry fit to be tied.
“I don’t understand why we can’t have chicken and ducklings,” Henry said for the umpteenth time.
Stephen had heard about the wedding meal from someone, most likely his teacher, Amanda Swartzentruber. She was engaged to be married this fall and like most young girls was wedding happy.
“Dumplings,” Matthew corrected, “and it’s not part of the wedding meal.”
“How come?” Henry demanded.
Matthew shook his head. “It just isn’t.”
“Why not?” he asked again.
“Because it’s not.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Henry folded his arms and scowled. Matthew knew that look well. And hated it.
“It doesn’t matter if it makes sense or not. That is just the way we do things.”
“I don’t like it,” he said. “Why can’t chicken and ducklings be a part of this wedding meal?” The boy was not giving up.
“It’s not how we do things.” Matthew was beginning to lose his patience. He didn’t even correct ducklings.
It was true; Henry had been born precocious, always questioning and saying whatever crossed his mind. The teacher was going to have a fun time with him when he started to school in the fall. Especially since it would most likely be her first year teaching.
“Well, I think we should change it. Who do I need to talk to? Amos?”
Matthew nearly choked. “You cannot talk to the bishop about adding chicken and dumplings to the wedding menu.”
“Can you do it for me?”
“No.”
“What about Gracie? She could do it.” He started away from Matthew as if intent on finding Gracie and convincing her to speak to the bishop about chicken and ducklings.
Matthew caught the back of his suspenders and stopped his progress. “No one is speaking to the bishop about any part of the wedding food. Understand?” He hated to be so stern, but once Henry got something in his head it was near impossible to get him to think about something else. And truly, what did the bishop care about what they ate at the wedding? He wouldn’t, but Matthew wanted Gracie to have as many of the traditions that come with a first wedding as possible. She was only having one attendant, but some second marriages had none. Her wedding would last half the day instead of all day with two meals, two cakes, and hundreds of guests. Most girls started planning out their wedding in the second grade. By the time they had joined the church and actually found the person they were going to marry, they had gone through countless guest lists, cake flavors, second meal menus, and dress colors. Gracie only had those schoolgirl dreams
to hold on to and he felt another stab of guilt. Did such things mean something to her too? Not every girl was like that, but most were. Beth was. How cheated Gracie had been. Would be. Was it worth it? He had no idea.
Henry stuck out his lower lip. “Jah, Dat.” He wasn’t happy but at least Matthew wouldn’t have to explain it all to Amos, why his son was so adamant about having ducklings at the wedding.
* * *
For the rest of that day and most of the next morning Matthew managed to ignore Aaron’s warning. Gracie had said that all she wanted was a family. Why should he read any more into it than that? He had almost convinced himself that he was doing the right thing by not bringing it up to her when Nancy Byler knocked on his door.
“Hi there, Matthew Byler who is not kin to me.” She grinned as she said the words. Then she nudged past him and into the house. She carried a cardboard box full of containers and packages with a bunch of different smells. He supposed that, separately, they probably smelled amazing, but collectively it was a little overwhelming. And nauseating.
“Hi, Nancy.” He forced some brightness into his tone. She said that very same thing to him every time they happened to cross paths and had since the first time they met. It was charming and annoying all at the same time. Mostly annoying.
“I brought you some food.” She beamed him a big smile, thrust the box into his arms, then waddled her way into the kitchen. They had done this before and he knew now that she expected him to follow.
That was the thing about Nancy Byler No Relation. He had learned early on that she was . . . odd. That was the only nice way he knew how to say it. She had never married and never intended to. She babysat when needed, took care of those around her, and smiled . . . all the time. It was a little unnerving, but Matthew told himself that he should be so happy as to walk around with a perpetual grin. He had just never managed to achieve that level of joy. Now he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to.
“I’ve got you the rest of the peanut butter spread from church in here,” Nancy was saying. “You’ll have to get some bread though. I didn’t have time to bake any. But there is a fresh strawberry-rhubarb pie in there. Well, the rhubarb is fresh from the garden, the strawberries are from Walmart. Mine haven’t come in yet. Neither have Strawberry Dan’s. Bless it all, if this keeps up he’ll have to change his name.”
That was highly unlikely, but Matthew understood what she meant. The strawberries hadn’t come in yet. Good, fine, moving on . . .
“There should be enough to last you until the wedding—” She kept talking, but Matthew couldn’t listen any longer. He was looking at the size of the box and thinking, By the time we eat all that food, we’ll be bringing home my new wife.
So little food; so many changes.
“Danki,” he managed. He wanted to say more, but what was there to say? Thank you about covered it and yet was nothing at the same time. “You still need that back-porch step replaced?”
She smiled again and waved a hand in the air between them. “Jah, but it can wait for another week or two. You’ll be pretty busy for the remainder of this one. But I appreciate it, I do.”
“I’ll be over tomorrow afternoon,” he promised.
“No, really, it can wait.” For a minute there he thought she actually blushed. Why? He had no idea.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” he repeated. His food hadn’t waited, and she had taken care of his family for several days. The least he could do was replace a rotten porch step so she didn’t fall.
“Danki,” she said with another one of her bright, slightly vacant smiles, then she bustled out the door.
He watched her go, the wheels in his mind turning with thoughts of food and weddings and all the turmoil that was his life. But his contemplating was short-lived. A few moments later, Henry burst through the door, hollering about something Stephen had done. The dog followed him in, yipping and barking at his heels. Then the baby started to cry.
* * *
Tuesday. He had forgotten that Gracie and her cousins had a “cousins’ day” each week to make goat-milk lotion, soaps, and other beauty products that Leah sold in her shop in town.
Matthew had wanted a moment alone with her just to . . . talk about things. He might bring up the fact that he didn’t want more children. Or he might not. Mentioning it would mean that he felt it was important, maybe even as important as Aaron seemed to think it was. Matthew had yet to convince himself either way. So he’d had Nancy Byler No Relation come over and sit with Henry, the twins, and the baby while he went over to work on her porch steps. This was just a side trip.
But now, as he pulled his buggy down their lane, he spotted them out front, their worktable set up with all these bottles and bowls. How was he supposed to get her alone for a minute and talk . . . about whatever? He couldn’t take long. He still had to get over to Nancy’s and fix that porch step.
Or he could turn around and pretend he was never there.
Too late. They spotted him.
All three women waved big and he could see their smiles. He was committed now.
He raised a hand to them and forced a smile.
They watched and waited as he drew closer. He parked his buggy under the big oak tree next to the barn and hopped down.
His legs felt stiff, as if he had been riding for a long time.
“Did you come to sample the lotion?” Leah asked.
Matthew was grateful for her wisecrack. It helped him put things into perspective. He shouldn’t be uncomfortable. He was about to marry Gracie in two days. After that, they would all be family.
“Of course,” he returned. “Do you have anything in strawberry?” He wasn’t sure where the words came from, only grateful that they were there.
The girls laughed, and Leah elbowed Hannah in the ribs. “Strawberry. That’s a good idea. Thanks, Matthew.”
He nodded his head and turned his attention toward Gracie. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
She nodded but didn’t move out from behind the table where she stood.
Did he need to see her alone? Did it matter? What was he going to ask her? Not about children. No. Not that.
“I just wanted to warn you about something.” The words came without any instruction from him. And he was grateful. “Henry has it in his mind that we should serve chicken and dumplings at the wedding. Except he calls it ‘chicken and ducklings.’ He loved it when Eunice sent some over last week and now he’s stuck on them.” He was rambling, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
Once he finished, she just looked at him for a bit as if maybe he was a little off-kilter. “Chicken and ducklings?” she finally asked.
“That is so cute,” Hannah said.
“Adorable,” Leah agreed.
All three women started laughing.
Now it was Matthew’s turn to stare. It was sort of cute, but he was exhausted. He’d had enough of Henry and his brilliant nature. But seeing these women laughing and smiling at his son’s antics had him grinning as well.
“What did you tell him?” Gracie asked.
Matthew recounted the story, from his response to Henry’s request to his son’s threat to talk to the bishop so that chicken and dumplings could be added to the wedding menu.
“Why not?” Gracie asked.
“What?” Matthew felt as if he had missed something kind of important.
“Why not serve chicken and dumplings?”
“Ducklings,” Leah corrected.
Hannah laughed.
“Because that’s not how we do things?” His response came out more like a question than he had planned.
“So?” Gracie shrugged.
“We already have all the ingredients,” Hannah added.
“I say you should.” Leah gave a satisfying nod.
“But—” Matthew started to protest, but the girls were already discussing the benefits of having chicken and ducklings versus the traditional chicken and filling.
“Jah?” Gracie asked, finally turnin
g to him.
“Are you sure?” he asked. What happened to the bride wanting a traditional wedding? Or maybe that required a traditional bride. One thing he was quickly learning was that Gracie Glick was no traditional bride.
* * *
Thursday dawned bright and beautiful. The sun was shining, and it seemed like the perfect day to get married. If there was such a thing. Was there? Maybe Gracie should ask someone. Who would know?
What difference did it make? She was getting married today whether it was the perfect day or not.
She jumped as a knock sounded at the door. “Jah?”
The door opened, and Eunice poked her head inside. It was just the thing Gracie needed to see, that smiling face.
“Leah is on her way,” Eunice said. “Is there anything you need until then?”
Gracie ran her hands down the front of her dress. It was a beautiful blue, dark, and shot through with black threads that gave it a depth that her everyday clothes didn’t have. She would save this dress, wear it for church and special occasions. It was too special for anything else.
As she looked at herself in the mirror, Eunice let herself into the room and picked up her snow-white apron. White aprons were an indulgence in their community. When a person had to tote water, then heat it with a wood stove just to wash a single load of clothes, white became a time-consuming luxury.
Eunice shook out the apron and helped Gracie wrap it around herself and then tied it in the back. She patted the bow, then clasped Gracie by the shoulders and turned her around.
“If your mother could see you now.” Eunice brushed an errant hair back from Gracie’s face as they both blinked back tears. This was a happy day. Not a day for tears. She was getting just what she wanted and neither one of them should be crying.
“Stop that,” Gracie said, brushing tears off Eunice’s cheeks. “I’ll just be down the road.”
“I’m still going to miss having you around.”
“I’ll be around,” Gracie promised. But would she? She would have a new family to care for, a husband who would need meals and clean clothes, five children to keep in line, and a dog, if they didn’t find Pepper’s owner soon.