Last Bride, The (Home to Hickory Hollow Book #5)

by Beverly Lewis

  “Besser, seein’ ya here.” He raked his callused hand through his graying hair, emphasizing the cowlick on the right side. “Where’s your perty Mamma today?” He looked around, his gaze settling on the casserole dish in Tessie’s hands. “Ain’t she with ya?”

  “She sent me over with this.”

  “Well, ain’t that nice.” He muttered something she couldn’t hear, then smacked his lips. “Gut thing, too, ’cause the last batch is nearly all.”

  He continued talking while Tessie placed the hot dish on the back burner, then turned the gas to simmer. “It’ll be ready whenever you’re hungry, Dawdi.”

  “Denki so much.” He sighed loudly, his lower lip trembling. “Sure do enjoy your mother’s cookin’. Awful hard round here sometimes.”

  Tessie felt sorry for the dear man. “I miss Mammi Rosanna, too,” she whispered.

  “Sometimes I feel like I’m lookin’ for my right arm—callin’ to her in the next room ’fore I realize again she’s not there.”

  “Can hardly imagine it,” she said, going over and sitting near him in a chair next to his rocker.

  “Nothin’ but Gott’s mercy and love lasts forever.”

  She nodded.

  “Say now, best be talking ’bout other things, jah?” he suggested. “Saw your beau, that tall fella, Marcus King, wander out to the barn not but a few minutes ago.” There was a glint of mischief in his gray eyes. “Made me wonder what’s on his mind.”

  Tessie remained silent.

  Dawdi drew in a long, deep breath. “Ya know, your father’s downright opposed—”

  “Ach, Dawdi, if ya don’t mind, I’d really rather not discuss it. All right?”

  He frowned. “So you must know something.”

  Despite the sudden stir of emotions inside, she willed herself to be still.

  “Not to step on any toes, Tessie Ann, but there’s more to your father’s resistance than you might know. Much more. And that’s all I best be sayin’.” By his words and his stern look, she knew enough to believe him.

  Why hasn’t my father told me?

  It was on the way back to the house that Tessie saw Marcus marching down the driveway toward Hickory Lane, shaking his head. He’d obviously just talked with her father, exactly as planned. When Marcus was determined to do something, he went right ahead and did it.

  Remembering her grandfather’s remarks, she scurried around the side of the house, where dazzling golden mums still flourished in the ground and the stately purple martin birdhouse stood high at attention. “Marcus,” she called softly. “Marcus!”

  She didn’t dare arouse anyone else’s notice. She made herself wait till she was nearly on his heels, running as hard as she could barefoot, before she called louder. “Marcus . . . did ya talk to Dat?”

  He slowed, letting her catch up. “You were right. He’s already made up his mind and won’t say why.” Marcus folded his arms, eyes serious. “If he weren’t your Daed, I might have the nerve to say he’s unreasonable.”

  “Puh!” She said it louder than necessary.

  He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips, his eyes searching hers. “Have you thought any more ’bout what we talked about?”

  “Eloping?”

  He nodded solemnly, as if he were as hesitant to do so as she was—a church member in good standing, after all.

  “Shouldn’t we pray ’bout it?” Her chin quivered.

  “I’ve been talkin’ to the Good Lord a-plenty about our marriage. Wouldn’t be schmaert not to.”

  She stepped closer, intent on his strikingly handsome face. She stood on tiptoes and brushed her lips against his clean-shaven cheek. “Aw . . . Marcus, don’t be glum ’bout my father. You mustn’t be.”

  “Ain’t easy walking this fence ’tween pleasing a difficult man and doing what you believe is God’s will.” He removed his straw hat and pushed his hand back through his hair, from his thick bangs clear to his sun-tanned neck. He stared at the road for a moment, silent.

  “I wish Dat were on our side.” Tessie struggled with a lump in her throat. “Truth be told, my father is stubborn. He did this with my sister Mandy, too, for no gut reason, and now he wants to do the same with me.”

  It occurred to her just then that her beau’s part-time work in a nearby vineyard might pose a problem to her parents. Could that be? But many Amish church districts made their own wine for communion services. It wasn’t as though Marcus was the occasional moonshiner who kept his brew secret until found out and reprimanded.

  “Come here to me, Tessie Ann.” He pulled her into his arms and held her in a fierce embrace.

  She felt the pounding of his heart against her face. “Marcus, I . . .” She stopped right there, unable to say it. He must decide first what to do for their love and speak it into the air. She honestly could not make such an important decision for them.

  Then, just as quickly, he released her, put on his straw hat, and gave a glance toward her father’s house. Tugging on his black suspenders till they snapped, Marcus stood straighter just then. And without a word, he leaned down and cupped her face in his hands, kissing her lips softly. Then again, ever so tenderly. “I’m goin’ to marry ya, Tessie . . . you just wait and see.”

  Her heart nearly stopped at the kiss. Oh, such joy! Dearest Marcus . . .

  “Let’s talk again tomorrow,” he added. “Meet me behind the house I’m goin’ to rent—in faith that we’ll move in sooner rather than later.”

  “You’ll sign the lease, then?” She was surprised but very pleased.

  “Sure, I’ll move in an’ get things set up for us right quick.” He paused. “You’ll join me there, once your father sees the light.” With that, he turned to head up the road.

  Tessie watched him go, the fingers of her right hand resting lightly on her lips.

  In the near distance, she heard her father calling. She cringed, but his call was meant for Mamma. And Tessie was ever so relieved he hadn’t seen her rush out here after Marcus—or witnessed their first kiss!

  Chapter 2

  Mandy Yoder was hanging out a small last-minute washing when she noticed Marcus King swiftly making his way up Hickory Lane. By his determined stride, she assumed he was angry. Then, lo and behold, her youngest sister, Tessie Ann, suddenly appeared, her apron flying as she ran, calling after him.

  Goodness, thought Mandy, a wooden clothespin stuck firmly between her lips. She paused and studied the couple from her somewhat hilly spot not far from the spread of land that presently belonged to her father. Truth be told, she wished her parents hadn’t moved in so close to her and Sylvan, considering how she sometimes felt about Dat’s insistence on her marrying a man of his choosing. It was downright uncomfortable. And she and Sylvan had her parents over for supper more often than she preferred to, really. It was Sylvan who was enamored with the idea of bonding the two generations.

  Sighing, she shook out her husband’s sopping wet shirt before pinning it securely to the long clothesline that stretched between the large house and the horse stable. She ought to be more grateful, Mandy knew, and it wasn’t that she disliked having her family so near. The struggles, the memories were still fresh at times. So many things had transpired to bring her to this point—married to Sylvan Yoder two years this November.

  Certainly her husband was a kind enough man, and Mandy was trying to make the best of things. She glanced back at the road, hoping she was inconspicuous as she watched Tessie touch her fair-haired beau’s hand, smiling up at him. Their kiss stirred up past recollections, and Mandy remembered too well the endearing look on another young man’s face. How he’d commented so often on her “perty flaxen hair.” She shook her head, brushing away the memory.

  “Be ever so happy, Tessie,” she whispered wistfully. “When ya find your heart mate, never let him go. . . .”

  But she must not let herself fall into the trap of remembering, mustn’t think back to her whirlwind courtship with Norman Byler, cut short by her father’s harsh
decree.

  Just last week, Norm’s older sister Hallie had received word from her long-lost brother and came rushing over to tell Mandy while Sylvan was gone to the barn. “Norm might be comin’ for a visit sometime this fall,” Hallie told her, eyes bright with the unexpected news.

  “For how long?” Mandy had asked. It had been three years since Norm left with a dozen other young men for Nappanee, Indiana, the lot of them quietly traded for the same number of Nappanee fellows. All for the purpose of strengthening the gene pool in both locations. Sadly, four more children had succumbed to fatal genetic diseases in the Hickory Hollow area in just this past year.

  Hallie’s brown eyes had penetrated Mandy’s as she said she didn’t know how long Norman would stick around. After all, he hadn’t been home but once since he’d left, and his family surely missed him. And Hallie hadn’t stayed even long enough to sit down and have some sweet bread and coffee. Mandy had wondered at her visit; Norm’s whereabouts really didn’t matter to Mandy. Not anymore.

  Whatever their problems—especially their beginnings—she and Sylvan were married now, and Mandy’s loyalty was reserved solely for her husband. “Till the Lord separates us at death,” she reaffirmed as she admired the neat lineup of washing fluttering in the clean autumn breeze. She carried the empty wicker basket to the house and set it down in the outer room, where Sylvan’s work boots and their other shoes were placed neatly in cubbies he’d built along one long wall. The minute Mandy stepped into the kitchen, she flung wide the windows there and in the front room. Every single one.

  “Honestly, have ya ever heard of a father forbidding his daughter to marry?” Marcus tried very hard not to raise his voice. He’d gone walking after his encounter with Tessie, out there in broad daylight, and somehow or other he’d ended up near the Wise Woman’s place. Going to see Ella Mae Zook was something he’d never thought of doing in his nineteen years, counselor though she was to many in the neighborhood. Still, he’d spotted her out tending to her orange and gold mums, lean as kindling. When the elderly woman waved him over, inviting him to sit with her for a moment on the porch, Marcus found himself following his feet.

  “Well, now, maybe you could fill in some of the cracks for me.” Her gentle voice was just what he needed. He’d already mentioned his disappointment with his sweetheart-girl’s father, trying to be vague and discreet—till he’d let the name Ammon Miller slip.

  “I believe I’ve told you all I know,” he said, which was the truth. You couldn’t lie to a woman like Ella Mae—anyone knew that. “Her father’s put his foot down, and that’s that.”

  “Without an explanation?”

  “Kenner—none.”

  “I see.” She slowed her rocking some. “Must be a bit unnerving.”

  “Not even Tessie knows what’s up.”

  Ella Mae jerked her little white head around to face him. “Say, now, wouldn’t have anything to do with her bein’ his last daughter, would it?”

  “Well, you’d think he’d want to make sure she gets hitched up. Ain’t?”

  “Might be he’s overly protective ’cause she’s the youngest, though.”

  He could see that. Just maybe.

  “I ’spect you’ve talked this over with the Good Lord.”

  “Wouldn’t think of movin’ forward otherwise.”

  “Sounds like you’ve decided something, then.”

  Marcus gave a nod, but he wouldn’t reveal what.

  Rolling her eyes, Ella Mae waved her delicate hands in front of her. “Far be it from me to probe.” She laughed softly, and he did, too.

  To his surprise, Marcus realized he wasn’t nearly as wound up as before, sitting there in the morning sunshine and talking right slow with the hollow’s well-liked sage. Small but mighty. A woman who very well could have been his own great-Grandmammi, if she weren’t already related in some other distant manner. After all, weren’t they all closely connected in Hickory Hollow? By faith and by blood.

  “I ’spect I could use any Gscheidheit ya might have for me.”

  “Wisdom, you say? Well, now, if I walked in your shoes, I’d prob’ly let patience ‘have her perfect work.’”

  “So you think I should back away from what I believe is right?”

  “Didn’t say that.” She gave a faint smile. “But it’d be a mighty sensible thing to have your in-laws-to-be on your side if the time comes, ain’t so?”

  He wasn’t sure that would happen very soon; Ammon Miller’s piercing look was still too fresh in his recollection.

  “At least think ’bout not rushing ahead with something that can’t be undone,” Ella Mae suggested.

  “I’ve pondered this so hard, it feels like boulders pinning me to the bed at night. I want to marry this girl,” he insisted.

  “And nothin’ will stop ya?” Ella Mae frowned. “Not even the lack of her father’s blessing?”

  “I love her,” Marcus declared. “No one else will do: I want Tessie Ann Miller for my bride.”

  “No need shedding a tear,” Mamma said as Tessie sat across from her at the kitchen table, mending a pair of Dat’s work trousers. “Ain’t like there aren’t plenty of single young men your age just waitin’ to get to know a nice girl like you . . . including several fellows from Indiana.”

  The traded men, Tessie thought with annoyance.

  “And don’t forget ’bout Levi Smucker,” Mamma added. “Your father thinks a lot of him.”

  Tessie struggled to conceal her disgust at her father’s meddling suggestions. He’d already spoiled Mandy’s life. I won’t let him ruin mine, too.

  Her mother peered over her glasses, big blue eyes accentuated by the recent new prescription. “You all right?”

  Tessie wanted so much to say what she was thinking and get it over with: “You don’t understand, Mamma. How could you suggest such a thing?” Instead she merely said, “I ’spect so,” then pressed her lips together real hard and tried her best to make small, tidy stitches.

  “Gut, then.” Mamma nodded as if satisfied. “Heard tell your cousin Emmalyn Lapp and her Mamma are hosting a hen party next Wednesday . . . makin’ big batches of cookie dough and tending to a few other chores, ya know.”

  Tessie loved this particular first cousin and wouldn’t think of missing out on spending time with opinionated but sweet Emmalyn—more like a sister than any of Tessie’s other girl cousins. Nearly seventy, and counting.

  Might be one of the last times I’ll go anywhere single. She surprised herself at the thought—had her heart already agreed to elope with Marcus? His eager kisses signaled his unwavering commitment, and she was willing to follow his lead. Anywhere at all.

  Chapter 3

  For an instant, Mandy was befuddled as to what she saw out on the road Monday morning. She’d taken two circle letters to the mailbox and had just pushed the flag up when she heard someone humming. When she turned to look, she waved at Tessie, who was wearing her pretty plum-colored dress and matching apron as she came this way.

  “Hullo, Schweschder!” Mandy smiled, still more curious as she noticed her sister’s for-gut shoes. “Where ya headed this fine sunny day?”

  “Just up a ways.”

  “I see that.” She waited a moment for Tessie to say more. When it seemed that she would not, Mandy added, “Well, have yourself a right nice time, wherever it is you’re dashing off to.”

  “All right, then.” Tessie gave her a halfhearted wave.

  “Say, are ya plannin’ to go to Cousin Emmalyn’s party this week?” Mandy called after her, hoping for a chance to delay her.

  “Not sure.” Tessie kept going, her head down now as she pressed onward this lovely fall morning, which served up all the wonderful scents of harvesttime.

  Well, don’t that beat all? Mandy had never known Tessie to be so standoffish, even though they hadn’t been close since her marriage to Sylvan. Mandy sighed—she had a peculiar feeling that something wasn’t altogether right between them. She headed back to the house to check
on the three Dutch apple pies cooling on the counter. One pie for Sylvan, for their noontime dessert, and one to take over to Mamm for supper tonight. Her mother would see to it that Dawdi Dave got a nice big slice. The remaining pie was for dear Ella Mae, who’d helped Mandy through several trying seasons.

  Mandy made a mental note to go to the cold cellar and bring up a jar of chow chow, one of Sylvan’s favorites. Meanwhile, she wandered out to the front porch and planted herself in one of the two chairs, relishing the wondrous aroma wafting through the screen door. It was still warm enough to sit outside without a shawl or jacket, unseasonably mild for late September. It was the ideal spot to just catch her breath and wait for the mail to arrive. She wasn’t really expecting anything, but it was always fun to receive another circle letter, especially those from upstate New York and Marion, Kentucky, where a number of her married second cousins were living, having one baby after another. Like my own sisters are . . .

  As of yet, Mandy hadn’t conceived a baby, and her anxiety increased monthly. She wondered if Mamm didn’t think something was the matter.

  I’d hate to disappoint Sylvan, she thought, knowing he wanted a whole houseful of children, especially boys. In fact, Mandy had overheard him talking to her father soon after their wedding about all the sons he wanted. Recalling that, she realized just how often her husband and her father sat and chewed the fat together, far more frequently than Sylvan seemed to talk with her. Even now, there were unresolved things between them—the way their marriage had come about, for one. And they never talked about their infertility, either, though Mandy sometimes saw the hope in Sylvan’s eyes when she cradled a little nephew or niece in her arms.

  Leaning back on the porch chair, Mandy yawned and wished she hadn’t stayed up so late reading last night. Dat had always said there was more time for prayer and early devotions if you went to bed on time. But with most of her morning chores finished, she knew she could doze off for a few minutes.