by Mary Ellis
Jake bent low to Rachel’s ear. “If she tries to plan our honeymoon or suggests she tag along as tour guide, don’t waste time with the phone. Just run for the door and don’t look back.” His whisper was loud enough for his sister to hear.
“Go now,” she warned. “Before there’s bloodshed.”
Once the door had closed behind him, Jessie focused on her legal pad. “Regarding your attendants, do you think either of your married sisters want to be matrons of honor or maybe both? What about Beth? Will she serve with Keeley as a junior bridesmaid? Between Bonnie, Ruby, Rosanna, and Mary—which of your friends will you invite to stand up with you?” Instead of looking exhausted after all the planning already, Jessie’s blue eyes sparkled with anticipation.
Rachel had heard the English expression three-ring circus many times, but it never made much sense until that moment. “I heard from my sisters. Amy and John will not attend, although I will always be welcome in their home in Maine, along with my husband. Due to her pregnancy, Nora and Lewis most likely will not attend, either. And I probably won’t know until shortly before the wedding regarding Beth. As far as my Mennonite friends? They will be invited guests. I don’t need more attendants if I have you and Keeley and maybe one sister.”
Jessie’s mouth formed the letter O. “But with a wedding as large as this, it’s customary to have—”
Rachel held up her hand. “Stop, please. I know you mean well, Jess, but I’m not even officially English. This needs to be toned down, especially if some of my relatives might show up. Let’s think of it as a hybrid Amish-and-English wedding.” She placed her hand atop her future sister-in-law’s and squeezed.
In the end, the orchestra playing show tunes was ruled out along with the soprano soloist in church. Rachel opted for a harpist during the nuptials, and a pianist playing classical music during the meal. And no dancing. On the topic of wedding photography, Rachel again refused to give in to Jessie’s demands. The giant album with companion DVD to play on the television was ruled out. She’d been raised to believe photos were graven images and therefore forbidden. To respect Jake and his family, she agreed to a limited number of pictures that included her, but the photographer couldn’t take pictures of any Amish or Mennonite guests. Rachel decided that Jessie and Keeley could buy English bridesmaid gowns of their choosing. However, should Beth wish to participate, she would wear her Sunday black dress, even though she hadn’t been baptized yet. No further discussion was necessary.
Suddenly her cell phone signaled an incoming text. Rachel read the words with a sigh of relief. Jake’s message was short and to the point: Get away from my sister while you still can. Meet me behind the family barn. Make sure you’re not followed.
Smiling, Rachel snapped her phone shut. “Something has come up, Jess. I’m afraid we must end our planning session. Thanks for all your hard work on our behalf.”
Jessie swept her brochures and catalogs into a large pile. “Well, we’ve made headway, at least. With me in charge, this will be the best wedding Casey County has ever seen. Wait until you hear my plans for your hair.” She winked playfully.
With that Rachel bolted for the door and didn’t slow down until well beyond view of the house. Breathless, she found Jake leaning against an ancient elm, chewing on a long blade of hay. Because a straw hat shielded his face from the sun, he looked like an Amish lad instead of a part owner of a Thoroughbred farm. “I believe I shook off my tail.” She inhaled deep gulps of air.
Wrapping his muscular arms around her, Jake kissed the top of her head. “Just say the word and we’ll elope to Nashville. We could see the sites, listen to some good country gospel music at the Grand Old Opry, and save ourselves the fuss.”
“And break your sister’s heart? Think again, Mr. Groom. If Jessie hadn’t hired me for tours, you and I never would have met. Let her do this for us. She’s really enjoying herself.”
“I’ll put up with anything other than karaoke at the reception to make you my bride.” His string of kisses from temple to jaw finally found her lips.
Rachel kissed him back with more passion than proper for Amish courting couples. “What’s this?” she asked, drawing away a little. She pulled a letter from his shirt pocket.
“That’s the news I couldn’t wait to share with you. I’d been hoping to find something to occupy my time now that Eager to Please has moved to Mr. Terry’s stable.” Jake extracted a single sheet from the envelope.
“You don’t wish to breed any more horses?”
“For clients, yes, but I don’t want to breed any more Brady mares. I seem to turn into a monster with delusions of fame and fortune.”
“You never stopped being Jake Brady.” Rachel wrapped an arm around his waist and hugged him.
“Thanks, but this will give me an outlet that shouldn’t corrupt my fragile soul.” He tapped her nose with the paper.
“Spill the beans already.” She plucked the sheet to read.
“I won a grant from the Kentucky Department of Development. Twelve Elms can now expand the therapeutic riding program to serve other disabilities besides the blind. We can provide private lessons, overnight rides, summer camp, and job training for equestrian careers. Dad and I will put up two hundred thousand and the state will match the amount to build additional barns, a specially equipped lodge, and add miniature horses. We’ll even have a heated lounge so parents and other guests can relax and watch the arena activities while staying warm and dry.”
“Congratulations! I’m so proud of you. Isn’t this better than winning the Kentucky Derby?” Because she needed to get back to the Stolls’ before Sarah sent out her feathered posse, they strolled hand in hand in the direction of his truck.
“Yes, but who knows? In ten months we might enjoy that too, at least in our hearts. Maybe this is similar to giving up a baby for adoption. You might not have been able to meet the child’s needs, but you pray they excel wherever they go in life.”
“Could be, but you’d better take me home, Jake Brady. If I’m late from work, Sarah might not let me go out with you tomorrow.”
“What have you got in mind for our date, Miss King?” He opened the door to his pickup like a gentleman.
“Let’s head to the mall. Jessie insists we serve mango punch at the reception and something called tiramisu. I couldn’t say yay or nay since I haven’t a clue what they taste like. We’ll check every restaurant in the food court until we find one that serves them.” She stepped up into the cab and pulled down her long skirt modestly.
“I can’t think of a better way to spend an evening. After all, you should feel like Queen-for-a-day as the bride-to-be.”
“Please,” she begged. “Eager isn’t the only one who can turn a humble person into a monster. Given any encouragement, your sister could easily turn me into Frankenstein with the blink of an eye.”
November
Rachel heard the knock at the back door somewhere in the far recesses of her mind. She had too many other details swirling around the gray abyss to process an everyday occurrence such as a knocking sound. Things had gotten out of hand due to her tireless wedding planner. Rachel had assumed those of that profession were supposed to make life easier for the bride and groom. Instead, she felt pulled in a dozen directions at once due to Jessie’s wedding etiquette guide. Jake offered to sneak into his sister’s room while she slept, steal the book, and burn it on the brush pile in the middle of the night. He would leave the window open and then cite news reports of an area cat burglar absconding with the oddest of items. Even if Jessie figured out the culprits, the source of their frustration would already be ashes.
Right now Rachel sat at her desk writing and addressing a stack of thank-you notes for the harpist, pianist, minister, church organist, each of the celebrity chefs, florist, photographer, and their wedding cake creator. Jessie explained that if she finished these now, she wouldn’t have to do them after she got home from their honeymoon in Nashville. Rachel sighed as she finished one of the cards. In
the world she had grown up in, a sincere danki to those providing a gift or service was all that was required.
These handwritten cards followed on the heels of more than sixty thank-you notes for her shower gifts. Although Rachel appreciated each generous present, did anyone truly need an electric iced tea maker? A clear glass pitcher of water and tea bags sitting in a sunny window worked just as well. And who had thought up a bread machine? Her mamm and grossmammi would fall off their kitchen stools laughing. However, now that she lived in a home connected to the electric power grid, she adored the microwave, automatic coffeemaker with timer, and her new crockpot. She could throw in chunks of round steak and chopped vegetables, go to work, and then come home to beef stew…or in Sarah’s case, chicken stew. Soon she and Jake would move into their own bungalow on the grounds of Twelve Elms. Each day she marveled at the progress of the construction of their first home.
Her cousin stuck her head inside Rachel’s bedroom, interrupting her daydreams. “Could you run downstairs to see who’s pounding on the door? I’ve been on the third floor cleaning out the attic. My knees are acting up today.”
“Certainly. I didn’t know you were above me instead of below.” Rachel sprang from her chair and down the steps.
“It’s probably another delivery man bringing more stuff you don’t need. I can’t understand why folks are buying both shower and wedding presents. One or the other should be enough. The Queen of England probably never had this fanfare for her marriage.” Sarah’s comments trailed Rachel throughout the house, her voice rising in volume to accommodate the distance.
Rachel might have responded, but when she yanked open the door after another knock, the sight rendered her speechless. A small green-eyed Amish girl stood clutching a battered suitcase in both hands. Peering out from an enormous black bonnet, she was practically swallowed up by the dark, heavy material.
“Don’t you recognize me, schwester? It’s only been five months.”
“Beth!” Rachel pulled her younger sister into an embrace, almost crushing her slim frame. “Of course I do. I just gave up hope that any of my family would attend the wedding.”
Beth squirmed after a few moments. “You can hug me later. I want to get out of these traveling clothes.” She dropped her bag on the floor and began peeling off layers.
“Are you alone?” Rachel checked the driveway before shutting out the cold wind.
“Jah. Grossmammi had planned to come with Aunt Irene…but something came up.” Beth plopped down into a chair. “Do you have anything to eat and drink? I would love a sandwich and glass of cider.”
“Your wish is my command.” Rachel hurried to the refrigerator. “I can’t believe she let you travel by yourself.”
“I’m fifteen, not ten, and I’m officially on rumschpringe. But like I said, grossmammi wanted to come even though the bishop advised against it. ‘That’s my baby out there in Kentucky. Somebody needs to make sure she will be taken care of and hasn’t fallen in with a rough sort.’ That’s what she told Bishop Esh. After hearing that, he changed his mind.” Beth picked up the glass of cider as soon as Rachel set it down. Half the contents disappeared in a hurry. “Gut, danki.”
“What came up with grossmammi that she wasn’t able to come after the bishop gave his permission?” Rachel finished making a ham-and-Swiss sandwich, added a handful of chips to the plate, and then sat down next to her sibling.
“Must we discuss our grandmother now? I just arrived five minutes ago.” Beth’s eyes squinted into a beady glare.
“Yes, we must. You’re frightening me.” A shiver of anxiety ran up Rachel’s back.
Biting into the sandwich, Beth chewed before speaking. “All right then. Grossmammi has cancer but it’s treatable. Amy and John and their baby are on their way to Lancaster to make sure she gets those treatments. Nora and Lewis had planned to surprise you at the wedding, but her doctor said no. She’s too far along to make the trip and must stay put. You know…”
“Yes, I am aware of her condition.” Rachel chuckled at Beth’s shyness.
“Nora will send the quilt her district is helping to make once it’s done.”
Rachel tried to hold back an unexpected wave of tears. She took a moment to gather herself, and then she said, “Jake and I will visit Missouri after Nora’s you-know-who arrives, and we’ll schedule a trip to Pennsylvania as soon as possible.”
Beth didn’t answer until she devoured the sandwich. “That would be a gut idea. Say, do you think Sarah would mind if I have another one? I’m still hungry.”
“I don’t mind at all.” Sarah swept into the room carrying a huge bag of discards for the church rummage sale. “But I don’t know why Rachel feeds you deli ham when there’s a bowl of fresh chicken salad with pecans and grapes. Welcum, cousin.” Sarah brushed a kiss across Beth’s kapp.
“I would love some chicken salad!” Beth exclaimed. “Danki.”
“Didn’t our grandmother give you money for the journey?” asked Sarah over her shoulder at the sink. “You’re practically starving.”
“Jah, she did, but I saved it to buy Rachel a wedding present.” Beth lifted her pale green eyes to meet Rachel’s blue gaze.
Sarah snorted. “Good luck finding something that the Princess Bride of Charm doesn’t already have.” She stuck a spoon into the bowl of salad and placed it on the table.
Rachel looked from one to the other and burst into a torrent of tears. “I’m so glad you came. Your being here is my best gift so far.”
Beth giggled. “Stop your blubbering, then. You never used to be a crybaby. What have these Englischers done to you?” She spread chicken salad thickly on two slices of homemade bread as though her mouth were as large as an ox’s. “I came to make sure this Jake Brady is good enough for a King sister. If he doesn’t treat you properly, I’ll be back.” She winked over the top of her two-fisted sandwich.
Rachel wiped her eyes. “He’s good to me. Don’t worry about that, but I wanted you here so much.”
“Do I get to be in your wedding? I sewed a new Sunday dress.” Beth took a huge bite.
“Absolutely. I saved you a spot.” Rachel tried unsuccessfully to control her emotions.
“While I eat, bring me out the dress you made. Have you finished it yet?”
Rachel did as instructed, but when she slipped the plastic covering from the expensive wedding gown, Beth’s sandwich slipped from her fingers onto her plate. “You sewed that with all those little pearls and pin tucks and fancy ruffles?” Beth stared as though at a two-headed hippopotamus.
“It’s called ruching,” Rachel said, pointing at the delicate gathers of fabric. “But no, I bought this gown at a bridal store. Between my chores here, my job at Twelve Elms, and helping Jake organize his new therapeutic riding program, I ran out of time to sew.”
“See what has happened to your schwester?” asked Sarah. “She’s fully English now, even taking driving lessons as though it would be safe on Casey County roads with her behind the wheel of a car.”
Beth looked from Sarah to the extravagant wedding dress and then back at Rachel. “It’s okay, cousin. She might be wearing funny clothes, but I’m sure she still sings out of tune, can’t see more than two feet in the dark, and couldn’t thread a needle in less than five minutes if her life depended on it.” Beth’s young face crinkled with amusement. “She’s still my big sister…and I love her. This Jake Brady person is about to become the luckiest man on earth.”
RECIPES
&
READER’S GUIDE
Chicken Paprikas
(Chicken and Dumplings)
1 onion, chopped
4 tablespoons shortening
1 tablespoon paprika
¼ teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon salt
4- to 5-lb. chicken, disjointed
1½ cups water
1 cup sour cream
1 cup sweet cream, if desired
Flour to thicken, if desired
Brown t
he onion in the shortening, add the seasonings and chicken, and then brown the chicken for 10 minutes. Add the water and then cover and let simmer slowly until tender, about 45 minutes.
Remove the chicken and add the sour cream to the drippings in the pan and mix well. (For more gravy, add a cup of sweet cream to the sour cream. If desired, add flour to thicken.)
Add the dumplings (recipe on the next page), and then arrange the chicken on top. Heat through and serve.
Dumplings
3 eggs, beaten
3 cups flour
1 tablespoon salt
½ cup water
Mix all of the ingredients together and beat with a spoon. Drop the batter by teaspoonful into boiling salted water. Cook approximately 10 minutes, drain, and rinse with cold water. (Note: dumplings float when they are almost done. Drain well and add to paprikas.)
Chicken Paprikas may be served over noodles instead of dumplings.
Author’s Note: This is a Hungarian recipe, not Amish, from my mother, which she got from her mother, but I think Sarah Stoll would have liked it! I also love this recipe with boneless, skinless chicken breasts, not readily available in my grandmother’s day.
Chess Pie
Aunt Peg Hersman Triplett
(Recipe provided by Linda Hersman Hitchcock, Kentucky resident)
½ cup (1 stick) butter
1½ cups sugar
2 tablespoons cornmeal
3 eggs
1 tablespoon white vinegar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 9-inch unbaked pastry shell, homemade or favorite store-bought
Melt the butter and then stir in the sugar and cornmeal. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well, and then add the vinegar and vanilla. Pour into the pie shell. Bake at 350 for 40 to 45 minutes until set and lightly brown on top.