Mary's Home

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Tingles chased each other up and down her spine. “Okay, my prince. I was wondering if I’m only sleepy and dizzy from being up here, or if I do really love you as much as I think I do.”

  “Now that’s an important question,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. “Have you found the answer?”

  “I think it’s you,” she said, “although I am dizzy and sleep deprived.”

  Ronald gazed into her eyes for a long time before he leaned over the rail to watch the sightseers moving far below them. Betsy joined him and waited. She could exercise patience the whole day for what was to come next. The moment had arrived.

  He finally turned his face toward her. “I want to stay Amish, Betsy, but it’s right that I should ask you here, on the top of the Eiffel Tower…Will you be my frau? My beloved one, for the rest of our lives, until we grow old and sit on the front porch swing together? Will you?”

  “Ronald!” She tried to breathe. “You know I will.”

  He came closer. “I love you, Betsy, so much. We were made for each other, by the Lord’s own hand.”

  “Ronald!” His name came loudly this time. Several tourists turned to stare, but grins grew quickly on their faces.

  “Betsy,” he said, reaching for her.

  She opened her arms with a heart that pounded in her chest. His face was a blur and heat burned up her neck as he kissed her. Betsy’s ears rang, but the sound was the clapping of the tourists around them. They must make a strange sight in their Amish clothing, which Ronald had insisted they wear. Lovers were undoubtedly a familiar sight on the Eiffel Tower, but not Amish lovers.

  Betsy buried her face in Ronald’s chest. His arms were still wrapped around her, their strength a comfort and a deep joy. There was no reason she should be embarrassed because of their love, even in this public place. Amish customs gave way for this day when Ronald had chosen the Eiffel Tower to ask her if she would marry him.

  Betsy peeked out of Ronald’s arms and forced a smile. “Thank you, everybody. That was nice.”

  “Congratulations,” several people called back.

  A jolly-looking fellow in bib overalls asked, “Can the wife and I come to the wedding? I’ve never been to an Amish one.”

  “We’ll have to plan the date,” Ronald told him. “We’re just in love at this point.”

  “The best to both of you!” someone else called.

  People smiled even as they moved away.

  “We are strange. Do you know that?” Betsy whispered into Ronald’s chest.

  He pulled her closer. “You are perfect. That’s my only concern.”

  “Ronald!” Betsy gasped. “You have to stop saying these wunderbah things.”

  He grinned and let her go. “Should we find Mary and Willard? They are probably wondering what became of us.”

  She nodded and clung to his hand for the long journey down the stairs. This day was meant to be, this climb up and down the Eiffel Tower. She would look back and become more certain as time continued. Mary would leave the community and marry Willard. They had known this before the trip, and the certainty only increased. Betsy would be Amish and speak for Mary, and Ronald would do the same. Perhaps that was the purpose of their lives. Was not service the highest calling? Deacon Stoltzfus would not understand that reasoning, but they didn’t have to persuade him. They only needed to climb the stairs of life the Lord had laid before them.

  Ronald took the last step with a great leap and turned to give her a warm smile. “You are so beautiful, Betsy, my sweetheart.”

  She giggled and leaped into his arms.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Mary awoke in the early morning light to throw off the bed quilt and sit bolt upright in the bed. Where was she? Betsy was asleep in the bed beside her, and this was obviously a hotel room. Paris! The memories rushed back. The night spent flying across the Atlantic with Willard seated next to her. The sleep-deprived day in which they had toured the legendary Eiffel Tower, the Grand Palais, and the Petit Palais next door. She could no longer think straight by the time the day ended.

  Mary lay back in bed and pulled her covers up under her chin. She was in Paris, the city of lights. A soft smile crept over her face. Willard could not have been more charming yesterday. He was not trying to impress her. He was always a kind and gentle man.

  Then she blinked, and her smile faded. The sorrow from home had also followed her. The peace and quiet of the community lay in sharp contrast to the bustle and roar of the Paris streets. Quiet came to the soul in the museums with their beautiful art pieces, but this was a different peace from that of the farm. Willard wanted her to see his world, here in Paris and in Kenya. And Willard was right. He would never live in Paris, but there was more to his life than the mission. Willard had been wise to bring her here. She must be certain of what lay ahead. Surprises and regrets were not in Willard’s plans. He was an honest man, with a true heart.

  Tears crept into Mary’s eyes and trickled sideways down her face.

  “Crying in Paris!” Betsy exclaimed from the bed across from Mary. “What is wrong with you?”

  Mary attempted a smile. “I know. I shouldn’t be crying.”

  “Are you having doubts?” Betsy sat up straight.

  “No, just memories of home.”

  Betsy sighed. “I suppose you’re allowed to feel that way. I’m going back there, but you…”

  “I don’t think I should go back,” Mary ventured. “I think you were right that day in front of the kitchen sink. It’s not that I’m afraid anyone will change my mind, but the pain doesn’t seem worth it. I can’t change things anyway. The die is cast, unless I repent, which…”

  “You shouldn’t go back,” Betsy agreed. “But how will you live over here, all by yourself?”

  Mary shrugged. “There’s the mission in Kenya, and there is another couple staying there, so it’s not as though I would be alone with Willard.”

  “I agree, but I’m not thinking about details right now!” Betsy threw off her bedcovers. “We are in Paris, and what a day lies ahead of us. A gorgeous day like the one we had yesterday.” Betsy walked over to the window drapes and pushed them back to blow a kiss through the glass. “Paris! I do love you.”

  Mary smiled in spite of herself. “I guess I ought to enjoy the day since I’m here.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Betsy said. “Up and at it. Willard told us last night they have breakfast across the street, or have you forgotten? You looked dead on your feet by the time we arrived at the hotel.”

  “I was,” Mary agreed. “But I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Paris,” Betsy whispered at the window again. “How beautiful thou art.”

  Mary laughed this time. “What were you and Ronald doing so long up on the Eiffel Tower yesterday?”

  Betsy colored quickly. “Just…” Betsy turned as the glow spread into her face. “Ronald ask me to wed him, Mary.”

  “And you’re the one who’s staying Amish!”

  “I know.” Betsy danced in front of the window. “Nothing makes sense, but I’m so happy.”

  “And I’m glad for you,” Mary told her. “Congratulations.”

  Betsy beamed with happiness. “I just love the man. Don’t you think Ronald is the most charming, the most handsome, the most lovable man who ever walked the face of this earth?”

  “Ronald is the Lord’s answer for you,” Mary agreed.

  How many prayers had Mary prayed along with Mamm and Daett for this moment to arrive? Now she was on the other side of the fence when the answer came. That, no one had expected.

  She blinked back the sudden tears and climbed out of bed. They dressed quickly and knocked on the men’s room across the hall.

  “Coming,” Willard answered. He opened a moment later and ushered them in. “Ronald just has to put his shoes on, and then we’ll be ready to go for breakfast.”

  “I am ready,” Ronald protested, one sock still in his hand.

  Betsy rushed over and gave him a long hug. />
  Ronald grinned. “Now that’s exactly what I needed. Goot morning, Betsy.”

  “And a goot morning to you!” Betsy squealed.

  “I think something happened between those two yesterday on top of the Eiffel Tower,” Willard commented with a wry smile.

  “It did,” Mary informed him. “So are you ready? Those two can find their own way.”

  Willard chuckled. “We’ll be at the diner down the street. You saw it last night when we came in, Ronald.”

  There was no response from Betsy and Ronald, who were engaged in a whispered conversation.

  Willard took Mary’s hand once they were outside the room. He smiled down at her. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m hungry, and I didn’t even work yesterday.”

  Willard’s smile grew. “I think traveling works up more of an appetite than working.” A look of concern crept over Willard’s face. “Everything is so new for you.”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. “And I’m happy to be here, and happy that you are showing me Paris. That was wise of you.”

  “I am a wise man,” he teased, sobering quickly. “Life won’t be easy for us either way, not after we’ve been together in Paris and Kenya. Even if you go back to your life in the community, I’ll never forget you Mary, or the moments of joy I have shared in your presence.”

  “Willard,” Mary scolded. “You don’t have to say those things.”

  “I want to.” He let go of her hand to open the door into the street. “But I don’t want to embarrass you…I just want to make sure you know how full my heart is. I thought I would burst a few times yesterday, being with you. Don’t let that change your decision about us. Once this trip is over, you can always go back to the community. I’m just saying how I feel.”

  Mary took his hand as they walked down the street, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. The words she wanted to say didn’t seem right. Willard obviously thought she was still in a state of indecision. She was not an Englisha girl who could make her own marriage proposal.

  “I love you, Mary,” he whispered.

  “I will always be an Amish girl at heart,” she warned him. “I hope you know that.”

  “I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he assured her. “Shall we?” As they arrived at the restaurant door, he motioned her inside.

  Mary nodded and they entered. French voices murmured around them, and the food appeared strange for a breakfast menu.

  Willard chuckled, obviously reading her thoughts. “There won’t be anything you would commonly find in America. Probably more like cheeses and bread rolls with coffee.”

  “Sounds nourishing,” Mary chirped as they seated themselves. Betsy and Ronald appeared a moment later, hand in hand, still chattering away.

  “Over here!” Willard waved to get their attention. “You two would walk into a wall if someone didn’t guide you.”

  Everyone laughed, and a waiter appeared.

  “I’m sorry, but we don’t speak French,” Willard informed him.

  This provoked a frown and further words still in French. The man slapped down the menus and left abruptly.

  Willard raised his eyebrows. “At least we are allowed to order, it seems. French charm on full display this morning.”

  “I’ve heard they are that way,” Ronald muttered. “Even in the city of love.”

  Betsy pinched his arm. “Don’t mix the city of love with bad rumors.”

  Ronald grinned. “Whatever you wish, dear.”

  “Are you practicing for married life?” Willard teased.

  Ronald laughed wholeheartedly. “Betsy will turn into a proper submissive woman once we get back to the community.”

  Betsy joined in the teasing. “He can sound tough on the outside, but he doesn’t fool me. Ronald’s a jewel.”

  “Sounds like you’ve made your case well,” Willard observed.

  Their laughter rippled until the stern-faced waiter reappeared. Willard pointed to several plates of food on the menu. “Whatever you bring, we eat, but try to keep it to morning food.”

  The waiter’s head bobbed, and he grabbed the menus and disappeared into the kitchen.

  “I hope you know what you are doing,” Ronald said.

  “I don’t.” Willard grinned. “But he’ll bring something decent. French pride will demand that, at least.”

  Mary clung to Willard’s arm while they waited, and Ronald and Betsy chattered away.

  “The Grand Palais was awesome yesterday!” Betsy exclaimed. “If only we’d had time to tour the inside to see that glass ceiling. But at least we got to eat dinner in the structure.” Betsy caught her breath. “Just think! I have eaten dinner in Paris at the Grand Palais, and with you.” She wrapped her arm around his.

  He smiled. “Maybe we should come back to Paris every year, sweetheart.”

  “I would love that. But you know that’s not possible. We’ll just have to keep our memories and think on them as we grow old together.”

  Mary sent a smile toward Willard as they listened. Betsy’s chattering soothed her soul. The Lord’s hand was plain to see. She would never have imagined that Betsy and Ronald would meet each other, let alone that they would travel together to Paris and Kenya.

  “Here’s the food,” Willard whispered in her ear as the waiter reappeared from the kitchen.

  He set plates on the table, cups of coffee, and vanished again with only a grunt in their direction.

  “Croissants and éclairs,” Willard muttered. “At least they thought to bring the poor starving Americans slices of cheese.”

  Ronald stared at the offerings in horror. “You call that breakfast?”

  “I’m afraid that’s all we’ll get, my friend.” Willard thumped the table. “Let’s pray so we can fall to it.”

  “I think one trip to Paris is enough in my lifetime.” Ronald stared at the plates, while Betsy held his hand and shook her head in sympathy.

  “Let’s pray,” Willard repeated and bowed his head. “Our gracious Father in heaven, thank You for this food, and for this day, and the days which You will grant us after this one. Bless what we are to eat, and bless the hours we will spend in Paris. I thank You for Ronald and Betsy, who have so graciously agreed to come with us, and especially for Mary. You are a great God, and thank You. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Ronald echoed. He grabbed a croissant and a slice of cheese. “Might as well do as the Romans do while in Rome.”

  “Or the French while in France,” Willard added.

  Betsy’s and Ronald’s faces turned red.

  “What? What did I just say?” Willard asked.

  “They were doing what the French do on to Eiffel Tower yesterday,” Mary told him with a smirk.

  Betsy’s face turned pink. “Hush! Don’t say that in public!”

  “I didn’t,” Mary protested. “But you were!”

  “I think we had best eat.” Ronald chewed his food, staring straight ahead.

  “We did nothing wrong!” Betsy declared. “We would have done the same thing at home on the living room couch during a proper Amish date.”

  “That’s right.” Ronald grunted and took another bite.

  Willard said nothing, but his shoulders shook with laughter.

  “You should try a kiss yourself on the Eiffel Tower,” Ronald said. “Downright exhilarating.”

  “Ronald!” Betsy exclaimed. “You make it sound so…”

  “Romantic?” Willard teased. “Who says we didn’t? Both of you were climbing up the hard way.”

  Betsy’s eyes grew large. “Did you? Are you hiding something from me, Mary?”

  Now her face was glowing. She was not going to speak about kissing Willard in public or in private.

  “Are you two engaged?”

  Willard shook his head. “I love your sister deeply and have told her so, but we are still finding our way. I want Mary to feel totally free to follow her heart without any pressure from me.”

  “That is goot,” Betsy
declared. “But I think I already know the answer to Mary’s question.”

  “Leave them alone and eat your food,” Ronald ordered.

  Betsy huffed for a moment, but soon complied. Mary realized that her fiery sister had found her match. Willard winked at her, and she leaned against him for a moment. They finished their food and waited while Willard paid. No one left a tip, which must be the custom. That had not been the strangest thing about their breakfast this morning. The food had fit that bill.

  Willard consulted his tour guide outside the restaurant, and they walked down to the bus stop for the short ride to the Louvre Museum. When the correct bus arrived, they all climbed aboard and paid their fares.

  “First stop,” Willard declared. “Perhaps our only one, depending on how much time we spend here.”

  Mary and Betsy said nothing as they stepped off the bus, clearly enraptured with the view in front of them—the glass pyramid in the center of the ancient courtyard, ringed by the three-sided rectangle of castle-like buildings. Mary took Willard’s hand, and they followed Betsy and Ronald inside. After buying their tickets, they moved slowly past the old paintings and sculptures, past the unfamiliar names. Mary waited for one thing: the face she had seen many years ago in a little one-room Amish schoolhouse.

  “She’s smaller than you might have thought,” Willard whispered in her ear once they arrived.

  Mary studied the frame—the stout woman, the open fields behind her with jagged mountain peaks and water. Her hair was long and black, falling straight down over the shoulders the way an Amish woman would wear it without her kapp. Mary would look like that if she married Willard. Customs from childhood would have to fall by the wayside.

  “Your poem fit perfectly,” Willard said from beside her. “You are a Mona Lisa.”

  “Please,” Mary begged. “Not out loud.”

  “I will say what I want to say,” he replied.

  Mary held him close as the crowd bustled around them. Betsy noticed, giggled, and punched Ronald, but Mary didn’t care. Willard loved her. He loved everything about her, and that was enough for now.

  THIRTY-EIGHT