Courting Cate

by Leslie Gould

  At eight thirty Dat began knocking on the door.

  At eight forty-five I opened it.

  “Are you having second thoughts?” His face was pale.

  I managed to whisper, “I don’t think so.”

  “Because if you are, we can go talk to Bishop Eicher.”

  I shook my head, a little too frantically.

  “Cate . . .” His voice was as tender as it had ever been. “What’s going on with—”

  “We already went through this, Dat,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  “There you are!” Betsy came down the hall. “Come out and say hello to your guests.”

  A look of relief passed over Dat’s face. “Pete’s arrived?” he asked.

  “I think so . . .” Betsy’s voice trailed off.

  “Have the ushers tell the guests to come on in,” I said. “If he’s here, let me know for sure.” I stepped back into the bathroom and closed the door.

  I knew Dat’s intentions had been good. I knew he loved me. I knew he’d given me the opportunity to tell him the truth, at least twice now. I knew he thought, at least at the beginning, that his idea was brilliant.

  But it was growing more complicated with each passing minute, far more than Dat could have ever anticipated.

  At nine o’clock, he knocked on the door again.

  I opened it.

  “Pete’s not here,” he said. “Neither is his family.”

  “What do the Zooks say?”

  Dat’s face reddened. “His family didn’t come.”

  “What about Pete?”

  “He left the Zooks’ place early this morning—they thought to come over here.” Dat added, “I hope nothing happened to him.”

  I shook my head. That was highly unlikely. What was more plausible was that he’d changed his mind. I could hardly blame him.

  “Bob?” It was Nan’s voice coming down the hall. “What’s going on?”

  “Pete’s family didn’t come,” Dat answered. “And Pete hasn’t shown up.”

  Nan pushed up the sleeves of her blue sweater. “I can’t fathom where Pete would be. This isn’t like him.”

  I left the bathroom doorway then and followed Dat and Nan to the sunroom. All of the furniture except the sofa, which was pushed up against the wall, had been cleared out and put in the barn to make room for tables for the dinner. We huddled around in the middle.

  “He changed his mind,” I said.

  “That would be such a shame,” Dat moaned.

  “No shame but mine,” I answered, realizing that what I’d tried to protect my family from was happening anyway, regardless of my intentions.

  Dat shook his head. “We’re jumping to conclusions. Pete wouldn’t just not show up.” Dat stepped toward the wall of windows. “He’s not that kind of man.”

  “I can take my car and go look for him,” Nan offered.

  “I’ll go tell the guests to go home.” I stepped toward the hallway, nearly bumping into Bishop Eicher.

  “There you are. I wanted to have a word with you and Pete, while we’re waiting.”

  I glanced back at Dat, and he stepped forward. “He’s been delayed,” Dat said.

  “I was just going to go get him,” Nan added.

  A wave of sadness overtook me. Turning away from Dat and Nan, I stepped toward the hall. “He’s not coming. I’m going to send everyone home.”

  CHAPTER

  15

  During the walk down our hallway, my sadness turned to humiliation, followed by relief.

  I doubted any of our friends and family would actually be surprised that I’d been jilted. Now I could get back to being who I was meant to be—an old maid—although the thought of Dat’s pain did hurt.

  I figured the bishop might go ahead and give the sermon he’d planned, perhaps a shortened version, and then we could all eat together anyway. Perhaps I could sneak away for a long walk along the creek, with a book for company, to escape the looks of pity and despair.

  As I reached the kitchen, Betsy met me.

  “It’s not going to happen,” I said.

  “Oh, Cate,” she gasped, reaching for my arm.

  I stopped. “Pete’s not here. Obviously he’s not coming.”

  “Could you wait a few more minutes?” Betsy’s eyes filled with tears.

  Martin and Mervin, Pete’s attendants, had gathered in the archway to the living room with Levi and his little brother, Ben, and by then Dat and Nan had caught up with me, the bishop right behind them.

  “If anyone makes an announcement, it will be me,” Bishop Eicher said.

  I blushed. There I’d gone, overstepping again.

  “And I say we wait.” He nodded toward Nan. “And that you go see if you can find him. We at least need his answer to all of this.”

  Nan said she wouldn’t be gone long. I turned to head back to the sunroom, but as I did there was a knock on the back door.

  “Come in,” Dat boomed.

  The door eased open, slowly, and Pete’s head appeared. Then the rest of him. His straw hat was in his hands, and he wore his everyday clothes, including his blue shirt, although all of it looked freshly laundered and pressed. I glanced down at my dress. It was the norm for both the bride and groom to have new outfits for their wedding day.

  “You’re here!” Dat stepped toward him.

  Nan hurried back from the entryway by the front door. Betsy stood with her hand clasped over her mouth, and Levi looked as if he might sing for joy.

  “Back here,” Bishop Eicher said to Pete, gesturing toward the hall. Then to Levi, he said, “Tell Preacher Stoltz he can get started with the singing.”

  Levi nodded and Dat patted Pete on the back. “Do you need a hat? I have an extra.” The groom was to give up his straw hat and wear a black one on his wedding day.

  “Denki,” Pete said, rubbing his still-bare chin as he did. Perhaps he didn’t intend to go through with the wedding, after all—maybe he’d simply done the honorable thing by showing up to tell me in person.

  Dat led the way down the hall, stopping in his room, while Pete and I followed the bishop into the sunroom. A moment later Dat stepped in, handed Pete a black hat, and then quickly exited.

  “Why so late?” Bishop Eicher asked Pete, who twirled the hat on his hand.

  He held up his wrist. “My watch stopped. I must have forgotten to wind it.” His voice wasn’t defensive. Just calm, matter-of-fact, and as polite as ever. “I stopped down by the creek on my way here . . . to pray.” He glanced at me. “I’m sorry.”

  I dropped my gaze, troubled by Pete’s tone.

  The bishop raised his eyebrows and then asked, “Is your family coming?”

  Pete shook his head. “They couldn’t make it.”

  The bishop stepped closer to Pete. “When do you plan to start growing your beard?”

  “Today.” He glanced at me again, and rubbed his chin for the second time.

  As the singing of the first traditional wedding song from the Ausbund—one about the church being Christ’s bride—began, the bishop leaned even closer to Pete. He didn’t flinch.

  An Amish wedding was a sacred event. The ceremony, with singing and a sermon, was almost identical to what my parents and grandparents and even great-grandparents had experienced. It wasn’t about the bride and groom and their preferences and desires; it was about the commitment they were making to each other and to God.

  “Any second thoughts?” the bishop asked Pete as Preacher Stoltz entered the sunroom.

  I held my breath.

  “No.” Pete’s face was solemn, the appropriate expression by Amish standards for what was before us.

  I exhaled slowly. I wasn’t sure what was worse—being jilted or deceiving everyone I knew.

  While the congregation sang, the bishops and ministers, often from several different districts, usually asked the couple a series of questions and then offered advice. Perhaps that wasn’t going to happen with us. The bishop asked Pete and me to sit on the sofa. We
did, on opposite ends. Then the bishop directed Preacher Stoltz out to the hall, followed him out, and shut the door.

  When the first song ended, I could hear the murmured voices of the bishop and preacher but couldn’t make out what they were saying. The second song, the traditional praise hymn, began. Pete put his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. I stared out the window. The blue bearded irises, the same color as my dress, were blooming. The epitome of spring.

  As the second song neared its end, the bishop and preacher returned. Pete stirred a little. The bishop cleared his throat. Pete sat up and then opened his eyes.

  The bishop started to speak but then closed his mouth. On his second try, words came out. “Tell us why you want to marry Cate?” He was looking at Pete again with the same intensity as before.

  Pete straightened his back, put Dat’s black hat on the sofa between us, and clasped his knee. “I believe it is the Lord’s will for me to marry Cate.”

  The bishop turned toward me. “What is your answer to the question?”

  I spoke softly and quickly. “I believe it is the Lord’s will for me to marry Pete.” My face grew warm, uneasy that I hadn’t prayerfully found peace in all of this.

  “And both of you have remained pure . . . ?”

  We both nodded adamantly.

  “And you’ll both be committed to your marriage?”

  Again we both nodded, but not with as much conviction.

  “And honor your marriage bed?”

  Our heads barely dipped, but the bishop didn’t seem to notice.

  The second song ended.

  “We should get going,” Preacher Stoltz said, concluding what was probably the shortest session of premarital counseling in Amish history. Neither Pete nor I moved. The bishop cleared his throat. We both stood, slowly, as the preacher and bishop left the room. Pete and I reached the doorway at the same time, but then he stepped aside and allowed me to go first, his hand brushing my arm as I breezed by into the hallway.

  “Listen, Cate . . .”

  My face began to grow warm. This was it. The bit about his watch was only an excuse. He was going to back out now.

  “About my family—”

  Relieved, I blurted out, “I know they didn’t come. It’s all right.”

  The singing stopped. A rustling at the end of the hall caught my attention. Betsy was motioning to me frantically.

  “Let’s go,” I said, now ready to get it over with.

  Pete crossed his arms and stood his ground. “I probably should have told you this last night, when I found out, but—”

  I interrupted him, declaring, “Tell me after the service.” Then I grabbed his arm and pulled him down the hall, joining Betsy, Addie, Martin, and Mervin at the back of the living room. We made our way between the men’s side and the women’s side to the front, where two benches faced each other. I sat between Betsy and Addie on one while Pete and his attendants sat across from us. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Levi in the third bench on the men’s side, his gaze on Betsy.

  Preacher Stoltz preached for nearly an hour. Then the bishop preached. All the while, I stared at the hardwood floor of our living room. Betsy must have polished it before we set up the benches. I was amazed at everything she’d accomplished. The one time I did look up, Pete had his head down.

  Even though I expected it, I startled as Bishop Eicher said, “Now there are two in one faith, Pete Treger and Cate Miller.”

  Betsy patted my arm.

  The bishop continued. “If there is anyone who knows a reason these two sitting before you should not be married, let yourself be heard now.”

  I half expected Nan to speak out, but instead there was a long moment of silence, the longest I ever remembered at a wedding. Finally the bishop said, “If it is still your desire to be married, you may in the name of the Lord come forth.”

  I shifted forward on the bench, looking up to meet Pete’s eyes. He kept his head down but stood. I stepped forward, and Pete took my hand. The bishop asked us a series of questions. Although I didn’t listen, I simply affirmed each one, only aware of my hand in Pete’s. His was cool and calloused. Mine was sweaty and smooth.

  The ceremony proceeded until the bishop took both of our hands in his, prayed a blessing over us, and then said, “Go forth in the name of the Lord. You are now man and wife.” He let go of our hands, and Pete quickly dropped mine. Then we returned to our seats.

  Although Amish wedding services are long, the actual ceremony takes only a few minutes. The bishop continued on with his sermon, then read a passage from the Christenpflicht prayer book, including, “‘May they also enjoy the benefit of Thy divine comfort in all the affliction, suffering, and forthcoming troubles they meet in their married life.’” I’d hardly heard a word during the entire service, but I heard that. I swallowed hard.

  Was that all I had ahead of me? Affliction? Suffering? And troubles?

  It would serve me right.

  I looked for Pete but couldn’t find him. The house had been quickly converted for the meal. The Eck, the two tables in an L shape in the corner, were set up. Dat announced it was time for the wedding party to sit.

  Someone whispered loudly, “He’s missing again.”

  I stood in the middle of the room, not saying a word, but the looks from a few of the women made my face flush. A few moments later, Levi came through the front door with Pete.

  As I followed him to our table, Aunt Laurel whispered, “Poor gentle lamb.”

  I knew things were bad if even my aunt felt sorry for me.

  Her sister Nell clucked her tongue and added, “Poor quiet dove.”

  Humiliated, I froze. It was one thing for me to pity myself, but to have all the guests view my pain felt nearly unbearable.

  But then M&M’s Mamm changed the subject, saying that Seth’s wife had given birth last night. “A little girl. We stopped and saw them on the way here.”

  Now it was my turn to feel pity, for the little one, having Seth as her father. Poor thing.

  The women drifted away, taking their conversation with them, and the light inside the house shifted when the sun went behind the clouds. As we ate the roasted chicken, potatoes and gravy, sweet-and-sour celery, pickled beets, chow chow, and other pickled dishes, the day—even though it was only noon—grew darker and darker.

  “A storm is brewing,” Pete said to Mervin. “Must be an omen.”

  I turned my head toward Addie as I ate, or at least tried to, until Pete pushed his empty plate to the middle of the table and said, “We need to get going.”

  “Going?” I stammered. “Where?” We had the evening meal to serve and then all the cleanup tomorrow. That was the way it was always done. Then the couple went visiting.

  “I tried to tell you this morning, before the service.” His gaze was intense. “A driver will be arriving in a few minutes. We’re headed to my folks’ place.”

  Betsy scuttled away from the table—to find Dat, I assumed.

  “Now?” I stammered. “Why so soon?”

  “My Dat is ill . . .”

  “I haven’t packed,” I said.

  “Then you should,” he answered. “I don’t know how long we’ll stay.”

  Dat approached our table. “What is this about you leaving?”

  Pete answered, “I got a phone call last night. My father’s ill. I—”

  “How bad?” It wasn’t like Dat to interrupt.

  “My oldest brother said I should come as soon as possible.”

  I sank back against my chair and stole a look at Pete. Maybe it was just another excuse to add to my misery.

  “Oh dear,” Nan said.

  “Is he in the hospital?” I asked.

  Pete nodded.

  “Is he going to die?”

  He didn’t flinch at my bluntness. “I’m not sure.”

  I met his gaze. “You could go on without me.”

  He sat tall and straight as we locked eyes. “Or not.”

  “Well
, under the circumstances”—Dat turned toward me—“do as your husband requests.”

  I left the table with Betsy right behind me. When we reached our room, I pulled a suitcase out of our closet. If Pete’s father was dying, we did need to go. And the phone call the night before totally explained Pete losing track of time when his watch stopped. I knew I would be stressed if Dat fell ill.

  Besides, there was no reason not to look on the bright side. We wouldn’t have to fake our lack of love in front of Dat. On the other hand, I’d have to pretend in front of people I’d never met.

  Betsy, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet, handed me a new white nightgown. “I made this . . . for tonight.”

  The bodice was threaded with white ribbon and the fabric was a soft, thin cotton. I took it from her, pained my husband wouldn’t be admiring me in it, and stuffed it into the suitcase.

  “You should put it on top,” she said. “You’ll need it first. . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  I ignored her and pulled two dresses off the pegs along the far wall. After I packed those, I dug my slippers out from under my bed, grabbed my robe, and opened my top bureau drawer.

  Betsy said she best get back downstairs to supervise. I agreed and she slipped away.

  I don’t know what I expected. Maybe for her to ask my forgiveness. Maybe for her to update me on her life without me having to ask. I glanced at the stack of books on her bedside table. None of them had been moved.

  I took the pregnancy book from my stack and put it on top of Betsy’s, and then quickly jotted down our doctor’s phone number and put that beside the pile.

  I gathered up the rest of my books to give to Nan, knowing she would renew the others, if possible, until I got back. After stopping in the bathroom for my toiletries, I headed down the stairs.

  Halfway, I stopped. Mervin and Martin were at the bottom, facing me, and Pete was on the first step, facing them. M&M were laughing. Martin slipped something into Pete’s hand. In horror I froze, my eyes glued on a white business-size envelope. It couldn’t be true.