An Amish Wedding

by Kathleen Fuller; Beth Wiseman Kelly Long

  “Ya, he did.”

  “Was anyone else around? Maybe someone else took it.”

  Chester shook his head, and Priscilla sat quietly for a moment. Mr. Turner had been good to Chester since he started working there almost two years ago. The elderly man had always been kind and fair. He said it was a big step for him to hire help after thirty years of running the business by himself. Turner’s Furniture was a small store with a variety of furniture, but Mr. Turner often commented about how well Chester’s pieces—especially his rocking chairs—sold. And Chester did a lot of other things for Mr. Turner . . . inventory, stocking, and even some ordering.

  “Don’t you think it’s strange that he would track you down on Abe’s phone instead of talking to you in person?” She shook her head. “I just can’t believe he accused you of stealing.”

  “Mr. Turner hasn’t been himself lately. I don’t know what to make of it.” Chester paused with a faraway look in his eyes before turning back to her. “I’m sorry to dump this on you today, but it really has me down.” He eased his hand over to hers and squeezed. “But let’s don’t talk about this anymore. I want you to open your present.”

  She tried to clear her mind and focus on their special time. “Why am I getting a present? It’s not my birthday.”

  “It’s my wedding present to you. I couldn’t wait.”

  She gasped. “But I don’t have your present ready yet.” She’d been sewing Chester a Sunday vest and matching pants, but they weren’t finished.

  He stood up, pulled her into a hug, and whispered in her ear, “I love you, Priscilla. Let’s don’t let worry plague our hearts today.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Will you open your present?”

  “Ya!” She eyed the box on the table.

  Chester picked up the package, reached for her hand again, and they walked into the living room. Once they were settled on the couch, Priscilla delicately worked the white bow from around the package and carefully peeled back the yellow paper. She pried open the top of the box. Tears welled in her eyes as she lifted the beautiful clock from the box, and when the scent of freshly stained wood filled her nostrils, she knew right away that Chester had made it for her.

  “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” She ran her hand gingerly along the smooth casing of the clock.

  “Not from where I’m sitting.” Chester cupped her cheek and kissed her on the mouth, lingering for long enough to give her a glimpse of what their time as husband and wife would bring, and she kissed him back.

  She forced herself to ease away from him and looked down at the clock again. “This will look beautiful on our mantel.”

  Chester smiled—a real smile. And she was glad that he seemed to be forgetting about Mr. Turner.

  “Are you ready to eat?” She stood up from her spot on the couch.

  “Ya. It smells mighty gut.”

  They strolled hand in hand into the kitchen, and once Chester was seated, she refilled both their tea glasses, placed a jar of chowchow on the table, and put out a loaf of butter bread and two kinds of jam. Then she carefully pulled out the underground ham from the oven and placed it on the table.

  They bowed their heads in silent prayer before Chester dived in, eating like a man who hadn’t had a meal in a month.

  “Chester Lapp, you act like you’ve never had underground ham before.” Priscilla’s insides warmed as she watched him devour her cooking. She pushed the bread and jam closer to him. “Don’t forget some butter bread and jam. It’s rhubarb.”

  CHESTER NODDED, HIS MOUTH STUFFED. HE WAS DOING his best to show Priscilla how much he appreciated the fine meal she’d laid before him, but he didn’t have much of an appetite, and his mind was filled with worry despite his best attempts to clear his head. The roof and wiring on the house needed repairing, he was getting married in just over three weeks, and now he would start his married life without a job. Even though he planned to grow hay on his sixty acres, it wouldn’t provide enough income to live. Mr. Turner had paid him more than a fair wage for the thirty hours per week he put in at the store.

  Still chewing, he glanced up. Priscilla was pushing her food around on her plate. He knew that this news was weighing heavily on her. He swallowed, then said, “Priscilla, I can see the concern on your face. Please don’t worry.”

  She offered him the hint of a smile. “I know everything’s going to be fine.”

  She sat taller, scooped up a forkful of ham, and he watched her take the bite. Surely, her appetite must have left her when he shared his news, but Chester knew how important this time was to Priscilla. And to him.

  After the main meal, Priscilla served them each a slice of cake, and Chester was pretty sure it was the best cake he’d ever had, but he continued to fight the anxiety that roiled in his stomach. It seemed like he and Priscilla just couldn’t catch a break. Everything leading up to the wedding was going wrong—the house, Abe breaking his wrist, Priscilla’s dress, her favorite aunt and uncle not being able to attend, and now . . . he didn’t have a job. If he didn’t love Priscilla as much as he did and know that she was the one for him, he might question the challenges the Lord had laid before them. His father said that too much opposition meant that you weren’t on the path God intended for you. But Chester trusted God’s will, and lots of good things in life came with opposition.

  Then why did Daed’s words keep lingering in his mind?

  He was jarred from his thoughts when Priscilla hiccuped.

  Chapter Six

  NO. NOT NOW.

  Priscilla clamped her hand over her mouth. Slightly embarrassed, she reminded herself that superstitions were not to be heeded. Chester raised his brows a bit as he bit into a slice of cake. She hiccuped again. “Oops,” she said, and raised her eyes to Chester’s. “I don’t know why this keeps happening.”

  “I think it’s cute.”

  “It’s not cute, Chester.” She hiccuped again, and he grinned, which caused her to smile back at him. “It’s bothersome.”

  Chester laid his fork on the small plate in front of him, not even a crumb of cake left. “I have to go to the bathroom. Be right back.”

  She watched him walk through the living room and down the hallway. She held her breath, but when that didn’t help, she stood up and began clearing the dishes from the table, hiccuping off and on. As she filled the sink with soapy warm water, she tried to focus on something other than her hiccups. Her wedding. She envisioned the scene for the hundredth time this week, and pictured herself and Chester promising to love each other for the rest of their lives.

  After she slipped their dishes into the water, she returned to the table and carefully picked up the casserole dish with the leftover ham. Her father would eat it the next day for lunch. With great care, she covered the dish with foil. It had belonged to her grandmother and was her mother’s favorite, oblong and white with three-inch sides, and a farm scene around the sides that had faded over the decades. Priscilla pulled the door of the refrigerator wide, bent down, and scanned inside for a place to store the dish.

  “Boo!”

  Chester’s fingers poked her in the ribs, and the dish crashed to the floor. Priscilla stared at the broken dish as the sauce from the underground ham flowed slowly onto the wooden floorboards. She slowly raised her eyes to Chester’s.

  “Priscilla, I’m sorry.” He squatted down and picked up the broken dish, which continued to drip as he lifted it. “I was trying to scare away your hiccups.”

  She put the broken dish on the counter and covered her face with her hands to hide her tears.

  “Priscilla, I’m so, so sorry.” Chester put his arms around her and pulled her close, but she jerked away.

  “Everything is going wrong, Chester! Everything!” She swiped at her eyes and kept her head down.

  Chester let out a heavy sigh. “I thought you were just looking in the refrigerator. I didn’t see that you were holding the food.”

  She sniffled as she looked back up at him. “It’
s not just this. It’s everything. If I didn’t know better, I’d think God was sending us a message that we’re just not meant to get married.” When Chester’s jaw dropped, she knew she shouldn’t have voiced her thoughts. “I shouldn’t have said that,” she said as she reached out to him.

  He backed away, his expression strained. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “No, Chester. I love you.” A tear slipped down her cheek as she realized that her hiccups were gone. “I’m sorry I said that.” Her stomach knotted as she watched him take another step back.

  “I love you too, Priscilla. But maybe you’re right. Everything is going wrong. I don’t even have a job now. It’s been one thing after the other, and . . .” He took a deep breath as he thrust his hands on his hips and stared at the floor. After what seemed like an eternity, he looked up at her, and his eyes softened like the sound of his voice. “I love you,” he repeated.

  She ran to him and threw her arms around his waist. “I love you too, Chester. And no matter the challenges, I want to be your frau.” She lifted her eyes to his. “The most important thing is our love for each other.”

  His lips met with hers, and Priscilla closed her eyes, melding into his arms and refusing to let pre-wedding stress come between them.

  ALL THE WAY HOME, CHESTER THOUGHT ABOUT PRISCILLA’S fears, a mirror of his own. It was hard not to question if he and Priscilla were on the right path. But how could their love for each other be a mistake?

  By the time he got home, his thoughts were resolved. No more fretting about the wedding, the house, or a job. God would provide in His own time. Right now, he wanted to get home before his folks and Abe returned from church, climb into bed, and take a rare nap—even if only for an hour. He hadn’t slept much the night before, and by the time he kicked off his shoes and hit the bed, he fell fast asleep.

  Less than thirty minutes later he opened his eyes and saw Abe standing at the end of his bed. He rubbed his eyes, then leaned up on his elbows. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough.” Abe shifted his weight and grinned. “I hope Priscilla can put up with your snoring.” He nodded his head toward the door. “Daed wants you to come downstairs. He said he needs both of us to help him carry something in the barn.”

  Chester groaned as he swung his legs to the side of the bed. “It’s Sunday. No work on Sunday.” He ran a hand through his hair, blinking until he felt alert. Then he noticed an envelope in Abe’s hand. “What’s that?”

  Abe pushed the envelope toward him. “Something from Rachel Zook.”

  Chester took it, smiling at the pink drawings all over the envelope. Rachel was a special girl.

  “Ach, and she told me at least a hundred times to tell you not to open it until your wedding day.” Abe grimaced as he rubbed at the edge of his cast with his good hand.

  “Hurting, bruder?” Chester stood up and laid Rachel’s gift on his nightstand.

  Abe shrugged as he dropped his hand to his side. “A little. But it mostly just itches under the cast.”

  Chester grabbed his hat from the bedpost. “Well, let’s get downstairs and help Daed with whatever project we shouldn’t be doing on the Sabbath.” He patted Abe on the shoulder as they left the room.

  PRISCILLA’S EYES GLASSED OVER AS SHE SHOWED HER mother the broken casserole dish. “I’m sorry, Mamm.”

  “It was an accident, dochder.” Her mother cupped her face in her hands and smiled. “Don’t be sad, mei maedel.” She kissed her on the forehead, then opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of tea. As she poured them each a glass, she told Priscilla about church service, how the deacon announced their engagement, and how her father informed everyone about the date and time. She handed Priscilla a glass. “It might be wrong to be prideful, but today . . .” A smile lit her mother’s face. “Your daed was a proud man as he announced your wedding. It was very touching.”

  They both sat down at the kitchen table.

  “Hannah and Leroy weren’t at worship today. We stopped by there on the way to church, and Hannah is just miserably huge, so I talked them into keeping her off her feet today.” Mamm took a long drink of tea. “But your sister said there is no way she is missing your wedding.”

  Priscilla forced a smile, figuring that Hannah would probably go into labor right in the middle of the ceremony. “Where is everyone else?”

  “Your father and Sarah Mae are outside in the barn, and Naomi’s in the daadi haus.” Sarah Mae skipped into the kitchen from outside, swinging Lizzie Lou at her side—wearing, of course, her new blue dress. Priscilla tried to calm her heartbeat as she thought about how she still had to finish sewing her new wedding dress.

  “Mamm, I’m going to give Lizzie Lou a bath.” Sarah Mae held up her rag doll with smudges of black underneath her hand-painted blue eyes. The days of faceless dolls were long gone, except for the tourists, and Sarah Mae’s doll was handmade by a woman in town. A Christmas present last year.

  “I think we better just give Lizzie Lou a sponge bath.” Mamm walked to the counter and came back to the table with a damp kitchen towel. She dabbed underneath Lizzie Lou’s eyes until Sarah Mae was happy and skipped back outside. A few moments later her mother snapped her fingers together. “Ach, I almost forgot to tell you. Rachel Zook talked to me after worship, and she told me over and over again to make sure you open the envelope she gave you on your wedding day, and not one day before.” Mamm paused. “What did she give you?”

  “I’m sure it’s a picture. You know how Rachel is always drawing everyone pictures.”

  Mamm nodded. “She’s such a sweetheart . . . and she looked so pretty today dressed in a new pink dress.”

  They were quiet for a few moments, but Priscilla couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Today wasn’t as gut a day as I’d hoped, Mamm.” She ran her finger along the rim of her tea glass. “Chester lost his job.”

  “Honey, I’m so sorry.” Mamm’s voice was soft and comforting. “But marriage will be filled with gut and bad days, to be sure.” She shook her head and blinked her eyes a few times. “But wait a minute. Why did Chester lose his job?”

  Priscilla felt her face flush. She knew Mr. Turner’s accusation wasn’t true, but she didn’t even like to say the words out loud. “He said Chester stole two hundred dollars.”

  “Well, that’s hogwash. We know Chester wouldn’t do that.” She shook her head. “Poor boy. I know it comes at a bad time.”

  “We’ve had a lot of bad timing lately.” Priscilla searched her mother’s eyes. “You don’t think we’re going against God’s plan for us, do you? I mean, so many things keep going wrong, and—”

  “Priscilla . . .” Mamm placed her hand on top of her daughter’s. “I don’t think that at all. Sometimes we can’t understand the life lessons that God sets before us. But everything that happens puts His overall plan in motion.” She gave Priscilla’s hand a squeeze. “And it is normal to be nervous this close to your wedding.”

  “I’m not nervous about marrying Chester. I’m nervous about the fact that things keep going wrong.”

  “Focus on the love in your heart for Chester and your future together.” Mamm eased her hand away and stood up. “And think about Sisters Day Thursday.” She smiled before she left the room.

  Priscilla stayed at the table for a while. She was excited about Sisters Day. Normally, it was a time for the women to get together for baking, quilting, canning, or another planned activity. It was always a fun day, but Priscilla suspected that there was something entirely different planned for this Sisters Day.

  Something for her.

  Chapter Seven

  PRISCILLA SAT UP FRONT WITH HER MOTHER IN THE buggy while Naomi and Sarah Mae huddled together in the back. A cold front had blown in this week, and temperatures were low enough to require a jacket over their dresses, as opposed to the capes they had been wearing so far this fall. Priscilla rubbed her hands together, wishing she’d brought her gloves. But the chill in the air couldn’t thwart
her excitement about Sisters Day.

  She knew what was coming, and she couldn’t wait.

  Please, dear Lord, I pray that everything goes well today. Please keep any worry from my heart. And . . . I pray I don’t get the hiccups.

  Anna Ruth Smoker was today’s hostess, and although everyone who attended brought a dish, Anna Ruth always made extra desserts when the event was held at her house. Priscilla smiled as she counted the number of buggies parked out front.

  The Smoker residence was beautiful inside and out. It was a new home built to resemble an old farmhouse, but every time Priscilla visited, she could still smell a hint of fresh paint, even though there was always a lingering aroma of freshly baked cookies in the air.

  Her stomach tickled with butterflies as Mamm knocked on the door. Her heart raced as they stepped inside the roomy living room.

  “Surprise!”

  Priscilla threw her hands to her mouth and pretended to be surprised, the way all brides-to-be did when Sisters Day was transformed into a party before someone’s wedding. Bridal showers like the Englisch have weren’t part of the Old Order Amish ways, but instead someone hosted a Tupperware or Home Interior Party, and the hostess credit went to the bride-to-be so that she could pick out whatever she wanted for free. Priscilla had been to dozens of these parties over the years, dreaming of one day being the guest of honor. Everyone always bought lots of items to ensure a plentiful shopping spree for the bride. She was anxious to see what type of party they’d planned for her.

  “Danki, danki,” she said as she made her way through the crowd, which included Chester’s mother, Irma. Mary Zook and her girls were there too, including Rachel.

  “Pre-Ceelia! Pre-Ceelia!” Rachel pushed her way to Priscilla and threw her arms around her. Once Rachel’s mother finally coaxed Rachel to step aside, Priscilla saw Rose, all her friends, and . . . “Hannah!”