Paradise Valley

by Dale Cramer

  It was a fine golden morning lit with radiant flowers and the eager gossiping of birds. The bridal party sat in a row of kitchen chairs outside the barn, with Levi and Emma in the center, Miriam and Yost on the right, and Rachel and Jake on the left.

  Rachel took great delight in just being with Jake, only now there was the added joy of seeing people’s faces as their buggies drove down the lane and they got their first glimpse of her and Jake sitting together. It was a kind of declaration.

  By eight thirty the crowd had filled the benches in the barn to capacity, and the singing began while the bridal party waited outside. Until now, Emma had shown nothing but the normal nervous anticipation common to any young bride, but when the singing began Rachel saw her older sister biting her lip. Angst had crept into her eyes.

  Emma knew what was coming next.

  So did Rachel, and at such times she could read her sister’s mind. She reached over and laid a hand on top of Emma’s, and when Emma turned to look at her she mouthed the words, “It will be okay.”

  Emma smiled thinly, but the worry didn’t leave her eyes. Two lines into the first song, one of the ministers came outside and said to Levi, “It is time.”

  Rachel and the other navahuckers stayed where they were, watching silently as Levi and Emma rose and followed the line of ministers to the house. The clutch of visiting preachers accompanied the bride and groom upstairs to the abrode, a bedroom that had been set aside and prepared for a closed-door session of counseling and prayer before the actual wedding could commence. Rachel had no idea what would be discussed there, what questions might be asked.

  Nor did Emma. That’s why there was fear in her eyes.

  Sitting outside the barn waiting for Emma and Levi to return, Rachel fretted about it herself. What would happen if they asked Emma and Levi the wrong question, point-blank? Neither of them would lie to the ministers – and then what?

  Jake touched her shoulder and whispered, “Why does she look so worried?”

  Rachel forced a smile. This was one of the things she liked about Jake. He paid attention.

  “She’s all right. It’s just a serious step – marriage. They’re going to be fine. A wonderful couple. They love each other very much, and Levi is very good to her.”

  Jake pondered this for a moment, frowning with thought.

  “What does that mean, exactly?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “That he is good to her. I mean, I know a man is supposed to be nice to his wife and provide for her, but surely there is more to it than that. There must be some special thing a man does that makes a woman say he is good to her, but what is it?”

  “It’s not complicated, Jake. He just gives her what she wants.”

  The singing from inside the barn intensified, and Jake leaned a little closer to be heard over it.

  “Well, okay,” he whispered, “then tell me. What does she want?”

  A shrug. “What every woman wants.”

  “And what is that? What does a woman want from her husband?”

  “She wants him to know what she wants.”

  There was a trace of frustration in his voice. “But how would he know if she didn’t tell him? I’m not sure a woman even knows what she wants. Why, I bet even you don’t know what you want.”

  She nodded emphatically, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Jah. I know.”

  “Okay, tell me then. What is it that you want from me?”

  “I want you to know what I want.”

  He slumped back in his chair, staring straight ahead. A slightly sardonic smile crept onto his face. As much as she liked him, Jake was still a man. He could be a little thickheaded at times.

  And then, slowly, without looking, his hand came over and gently took her hand from her lap. Holding their hands down between them where no one could see, Jake’s fingers intertwined with hers.

  Perhaps he was not so thickheaded after all.

  The prayer and counseling session in the abrode lasted thirty minutes, during which time the navahucker couples waited outside while the congregation in the barn sang hymns from the Ausbund, led by men chosen from the families of the bride and groom. Then Levi and Emma rejoined the wedding party, and the six of them marched into the barn and took their reserved seats.

  Emma’s face was serene and relaxed, and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. Things had gone well in the counseling session and only joyful celebration lay ahead.

  Staring across the aisle at Jake Weaver, Rachel found herself constantly thinking about the future, about what her own wedding day might be like. His eyes twinkled when he looked at her, and she was dying to know if anything of the sort had crossed his mind.

  Probably not. He was, after all, a man. Perhaps she would find a way to pry into his thoughts a little later. There would be plenty of time for that – it was going to be a very long day.

  The bishop began his sermon in the Garden of Eden, when Gott himself noted that it was not good that a man should be alone, and worked his way through the Great Flood, carefully pointing out that the widespread evil which ultimately caused Gott to destroy the world was the inevitable result of mixed marriages. After about an hour he finished by driving home the point that marriage was a binding promise witnessed by Gott himself, never to be taken lightly, and never, ever, so long as you both shall live, ever to be broken. Among the Amish, there could be no divorce.

  Most of Emma’s family had remained in the house to finish preparing the feast, but near the end of the sermon they all moved silently into the barn and took seats to witness the wedding vows.

  When the bishop finished his sermon he turned to the bride and groom and bid them come forward.

  It was a moment that would be forever etched in Rachel’s memory, Emma standing there straight and tall in her crisp new dress, all eyes watching as she smiled up at the man she loved, their future as bright as the striped sunlight angling across a barnful of hushed, expectant faces.

  “Can you both confess and believe,” the bishop asked solemnly, “that Gott has ordained marriage to be a union between one man and one wife, and do you also have the confidence that you are approaching marriage in accordance with the way you have been taught?”

  “Jah,” they both answered.

  “Do you have confidence, brother, that the Lord hath provided this, our sister, as a marriage partner for you?”

  “Jah,” Levi said.

  He asked the same of Emma, to which she answered, “Jah.”

  “Do you promise your wife that if, in bodily weakness, sickness, or any similar circumstance she should need your help, that you will care for her as is fitting for a Christian husband?”

  “Jah.”

  The bishop repeated the same question for Emma.

  “And do you both promise together that you will live with each other with love, forbearance and patience, and not part from each other until Gott separates you in death?”

  “Jah,” they both answered.

  “Then let us rise and pray for those about to be married.”

  Everyone stood and the bishop prayed.

  Then he took Emma’s hand and placed it in Levi’s, saying, “May the Gott of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob be with you and help you together, giving his blessing richly unto you, and this through Jesus Christ – amen. You are now one flesh, and will remain so until death do you part.” Then he looked them solemnly in the eyes and warned, “To do otherwise would be a great sin.”

  Many of the women wiped tears as the congregation sat down. Only the navahuckers remained standing. The newlyweds returned to them, and all six marched out stiffly in single file, boy girl, boy girl, with Jake and Rachel bringing up the rear. The congregation remained seated, watching silently until the whole wedding party had filed out of the barn.

  Lunchtime was upon them, stomachs were grumbling, and mouthwatering scents drifted across the yard – fresh-baked bread, hingleflesh, mashed potatoes, gravy, ham, an army of casseroles, plenty of cakes, cookies,
pies, tubs of tapioca pudding, trays of cookies and a hundred other delights. The bishop dismissed the crowd and the festivities began.

  The wedding party took up their places of honor at the corner table with Levi and Emma in the center and her attendants on the wings.

  Rachel was in heaven. Seated beside Jake as everyone filed past to offer their congratulations, she was thrilled by all the teasing winks and raised eyebrows they gave her and Jake in passing. For today at least, they were a couple, and everyone knew it. Even more than that, on this day Emma had married the man she loved and the newlyweds would be going to Mexico with the family.

  That Showalter girl came through the line, and when she shook hands with Jake she smiled a little too brightly. She was pretty, but a shameless flirt, and Rachel had heard rumors. Jake smiled back at her and made a little joke. After the girl had passed out of hearing Rachel leaned close to his ear and whispered, only half joking, “I saw that.”

  “What?” His eyebrows went up in mock surprise and he suppressed a grin.

  “You like her?”

  He shrugged. “She’s friendly, and nice to talk to . . . if you like talking about tabby kittens.” He frowned then and added, “But I don’t much care for her tapioca pudding.”

  Rachel lowered her face and gripped her stomach, trying to squelch hysterical laughter. One of her more spirited cousins, known for her loose tongue, had once famously quipped that the bubble-headed Mary Showalter didn’t know road apples from tapioca.

  By the time Rachel got herself under control and sat up straight again she knew she was falling in love.

  Chapter 12

  Most of the adults went home after the evening meal, and the teenagers held a late singing. Afterward, as usual, the remaining grown-ups sat around inside the house talking with Levi and Emma, ignoring the teenagers for a good long time.

  Rachel and Jake went down the lane to be alone. Jake had fallen quiet, and she could see that something was bothering him. They were walking slowly, very close, almost touching.

  “What is it, Jake? What are you thinking?”

  It was so dark she couldn’t see his face, but she could tell that he looked away for a moment as if he were making up his mind about something. Then, without warning, he turned back to her and kissed her right on the lips. He’d never done that before. It was a very light kiss, and it only lasted a second before he turned away again. Even in the dark she knew he was blushing.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and then, “No I’m not.”

  Suddenly she felt it necessary to defend her honor. “What kind of girl do you take me for, Jake Weaver?”

  Very quietly, he answered, “After today, spending so much time with you, I know what kind of girl you are. That’s why I wanted so badly to kiss you.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  Again he hesitated, trying to find words.

  “I don’t know how else to say it. I guess it means I choose you.”

  He took her hand and drew her with him down the lane away from the house.

  Being fairly new to the romance business, she didn’t quite know how to take this. They were walking slowly, going nowhere in particular, and now they were holding hands. Some Amish boys went hog-wild the moment they reached dating age, and girls had to be careful around them. Others were awkward and reticent, unlikely to even speak to a girl without a lot of prompting and goading.

  Jake wasn’t either of those.

  “You choose me?” she said, once she’d had time to think about it. “You mean like a mule at the auction? Wouldn’t you like to look at my teeth and hooves first? What do you mean, choose me?”

  He laughed a little, but not too long. He seemed almost embarrassed, a good sign.

  “I’m not sure, exactly,” he said. “I just know it took forever to be sixteen, so I been thinking about girls for a time now.”

  “Most of the boys I know have been thinking about girls for a while. Some of them, why that’s all they think about.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  Rachel waited, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

  “I guess Emma’s wedding made me think about it, that’s all. It’s got to happen sometime. I mean, sooner or later a boy has to choose a girl, jah? He starts dating when he’s sixteen, and almost everybody is married off by the age of nineteen or twenty. In those few short years he has to pick who he’ll be with for the rest of his life. After baptism, I’m thinking it’s the most important choosing a boy ever does.”

  “A girl, too,” she said. “But, Jake, surely you’re not saying already you want us to be married. I’m barely old enough to court.” She was having trouble keeping her voice from quivering, and she was glad for the darkness. He would not be able to see her eyes pool.

  “No, I’m not that hasty. But if choosing is important, why would I waste time being with a girl I would never marry?”

  She pondered this, her heart pounding, but only for the few seconds it took to see that it was a natural extension of Jake’s level-headedness.

  “Jah,” she said, clearing her throat. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

  “So why do so many get it wrong? I’ve watched lots of boys choose, including my two older brothers, and sometimes it don’t work out so good.”

  “What do you mean? Your brother Noah married Linda Traeger, the prettiest girl in the district.”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. Just between me and you, she’s sometimes not so easy to get along with.”

  Rachel had heard the rumors. But Jake didn’t stop there.

  “I seen it before,” he continued. “It’s like if Gott puts too much pretty in a girl, He has to make up for it, so she has a shortcoming somewhere else.”

  Her face darkened. She let go his hand and crossed her arms on her chest. “I see. So you ‘choose’ me because I’m not pretty. You don’t want a pretty girl; you want plain little redheaded Rachel Bender.”

  Most of the boys she knew would have gotten defensive at that point and started blustering, trying to squirm off the hook. But not Jake. Out in the open, in the moonlight, she could see that he was laughing quietly. He shook his head as if this was such nonsense he would not dignify it with an answer. Then the grin faded and he became very serious.

  Stopping and turning to face her in the path, he said, “Do you remember one day raking leaves last fall with Miriam? It was a fine crisp day with a deep blue sky and a little wind, the leaves all bright red and gold, a good crop harvested and another year of good health behind us. Miriam threw some leaves at you and pretty soon the two of you were chasing and laughing – ”

  “Wait,” Rachel said, “I remember that, and you weren’t there. We were in our own backyard, away from the road and prying eyes. Were you spying on us, Jake?”

  “Well, no, but we were hunting pheasant that day and I saw you from down in the pasture on the other side of the creek. Your kapp came off, you remember?”

  He made motions with his fingers on either side of his head, like rain. “Your hair got loose and came down all around you. I could hear you laugh when Miriam tackled you into the leaf pile, and it was a sound like silver. Then you got up and chased her, all that red hair dancing and the sunlight flashing off of it like . . . like spun copper.”

  He paused then, and she peeked at his face. He was searching for something – the right words, or maybe the courage to say them. She’d never known an Amish poet before, and she wasn’t about to interrupt him. She waited.

  “In all my life,” he said softly, shaking his head, “I have never seen a sunset more beautiful than that.”

  She averted her eyes. Suddenly short of breath, she unconsciously pawed and tucked at her hair. What kind of boy was this who could so easily stir such feelings within her, frightening and embarrassing and wildly exciting all at once?

  He must have sensed her discomfort, or shared it, because he took her hand and continued down the path. Walking side by side it wasn’t necessary to
look at each other.

  “But deep down,” he went on, “I knew it wasn’t so wise to let one little minute of sunshine decide my whole life for me. And that is what I meant when I said a boy shouldn’t choose for pretty.

  “I even asked my dat about it,” he chuckled. “Anybody can see how he is with my mamm, so I asked him what was the secret to choosing the right girl. We were out haying. He looked up at the house, where Mamm was hanging out the wash, and I will never forget what he said – ‘Why, it’s easy, son. Just remember when you choose a girlfriend, don’t choose so much the girl. Choose the friend.’

  “I’ve known you all my life, Rachel, and you’ve always been a good friend. I watched how you are with a baby calf or a baby boy, how you work and how you play, how you treat your mother and how you take such care with Ada. I used to think you were maybe a little too timid until you stood up at the children’s home, pretending to be dumb, and drew the nurse away so I could get my little brother out of there. And then I knew – here is a friend I will be able to count on when things don’t look so good.”

  The ground suddenly seemed uncertain of itself. Somehow she kept putting one foot in front of the other, but the spaces between steps felt like falling from the hayloft. She didn’t know it was even possible for a boy to have this much inside him – so confident and so vulnerable at the same time. On second thought, maybe it wasn’t possible for a boy. Even at the tender age of sixteen, this was no boy. And Rachel knew, given the things he had said to her and the way he made her feel, she would never be a little girl again, either.

  She stopped walking and tugged at his hand, forcing him to turn and face her in the lane. Then she put her hands on his waist and drew him closer. Looking deeply into his eyes she bared heart and soul in one burning gaze and said boldly, “I choose you too, Jacob Weaver.”

  It was nearly midnight before all the guests finally cleared out and Levi and Emma dragged themselves upstairs to bed. Yet there were other traditions still to be addressed, because a couple of Harvey’s cousins had stayed over to help him with wedding night mischief. They’d already taken care of all the usual pranks, like putting potatoes under the mattress and hiding the chamber pot. After the newlyweds retired and blew out the lantern the boys found a broken strand of jingle bells in the tack room, tied them to a long cane pole and ran past the house every ten minutes or so, slapping the bells across the upstairs bedroom window.