Her efforts at worshipping and praising God were futile, however. The longer Lydianne thought about what Glenn must’ve done to finagle his way into the wedding party, the more upset she got. She hoped her smile didn’t appear forced as she rose with Regina to stand in front of the bishop when it was time for the ceremony.
“Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here on this special day to celebrate the sacrament of holy matrimony,” Bishop Jeremiah began solemnly. His voice, usually rich and sonorous, sounded tight with tension—as though he, too, had been stewing about Glenn’s presence.
Lydianne’s heart was pounding with such distress, she barely heard the ancient words that prefaced every wedding ceremony. She tried very hard to focus on what the bishop was saying—reminding herself that such a welling-up of negative emotions was not only inappropriate at a wedding, it was unacceptable to God, as well. But her efforts at adjusting her attitude weren’t working.
This surely must be a trick! And Glenn’s grin says he somehow wrangled his way into standing up for Gabe. This is just wrong!
As the ceremony continued, Lydianne was enveloped in a mental haze of smoky-red resentment. She stared down at her white-knuckled hands, clasped too tightly in front of her. She refused to look at Glenn, and she didn’t want to focus on Jeremiah, either, for fear he’d chastise her about her anger later—or interpret it as a sign that she’d welcome his company instead of Glenn’s.
Lydianne was vaguely aware that Regina was repeating her vows in a voice that sounded strangely nervous, considering how confident she’d seemed when the two of them had entered the room. The bride got through her part without any slips, however.
“I, Gabriel, take thee, Regina, to be my lawfully wedded wife,” the groom spoke out joyfully when it was his turn.
Of course, Gabe sounds happy—he knew about the switch in side-sitters, and Glenn’s his best friend, so he’s fine with it. Pull yourself together! Don’t you dare allow this to spoil Regina’s big day.
Lydianne put on her best smile as Bishop Jeremiah introduced Mr. and Mrs. Gabe Flaud to the guests in the crowded room. Most folks had no idea there was any friction between her and Glenn or between Glenn and the bishop, so they had probably attributed Regina’s reticence to wedding-day jitters. As applause filled the room, Lydianne reminded herself that as mature adults—older than most side-sitters—she and Glenn could surely get through the wedding dinner and the rest of the day’s festivities without any fuss.
But the trouble started immediately. When the wedding party gathered around a small table near the preachers’ bench to sign the marriage certificate, Gabe and Regina signed first, writing their names on the proper lines. When Lydianne accepted the pen from her friend, however, Glenn stepped up beside her and put his arm around her.
“Stop it!” Lydianne whispered tersely.
“Stop what?” he shot back with a wounded frown. “I thought we could slip outside and talk about—”
“I don’t want to go outside with you,” Lydianne insisted as she signed her name. “I don’t want to go out with you, either, Glenn, so just leave me—”
“Why not? Are you seeing Shetler?” he demanded hotly.
“No! I’m—that’s none of your business!”
Glenn’s jaw dropped. He looked around the large, crowded room, which had suddenly gone silent as all eyes followed their escalating exchange. “Seems you’ve made it everyone’s business now, Miss Christner,” he muttered as he picked up the pen she’d dropped on the table. After he hastily scribbled his name, he stalked toward the front door to avoid the crowd on the other side of the room.
Lydianne wanted the floorboards to open up and swallow her. As Regina, Gabe, and Bishop Jeremiah gathered around her, she felt lower than a worm for stirring up a ruckus—even as she told herself Glenn was as much to blame for it as she was.
“So where’s your cousin Mervin?” Regina asked her new husband in a frustrated whisper.
“He’s down with a nasty case of the flu,” Gabe replied apologetically. “When his brother told me about it first thing this morning, what could I do but ask Glenn to fill in? I thought it would look awkward if I sat there alone and—and because I wasn’t supposed to see you until church this morning, I didn’t have a chance to tell you, honey-girl. I’m sorry—”
“No, I’m sorry,” Lydianne interrupted as she blinked back tears. “I took it wrong when Glenn asked me to—I should’ve gone outside, as he suggested, and told him out there that I didn’t want to—”
“Glenn overstepped,” Jeremiah stated in a low voice. “He’s still in mourning—and even if he weren’t, it’s improper for him to put his arm around you in public.”
Lydianne was grateful that the bishop was standing up for her, but that didn’t stop the wedding guests from whispering. It didn’t fully restore Regina’s happiness, either, because she was clearly worried about Lydianne.
“Are you all right?” the bride whispered, grasping Lydianne’s wrist. “Even though you tell me things at school are going well—”
“They are!” Lydianne insisted.
“—you haven’t seemed like your usual cheerful self lately.”
Lydianne sighed, wishing she could pull herself together without so many people around. It was bad enough that Glenn might have left the wedding; she couldn’t abandon the wedding party, too. The bride and groom would look woefully alone if they were seated all by themselves at the special eck table in the corner of the main tent.
“Maybe you should’ve asked somebody else to be your side-sitter,” she said in a halting voice. “I never intended to—”
“I did ask Jo and the twins to join you, remember?” Regina reminded her gently. “But they thought four attendants would be too many—”
“And I was at a loss to come up with four fellows to sit with me,” Gabe put in. “Glenn was still married at that time, so I didn’t even consider him—until this morning when I was in a pinch.”
“What really matters,” Bishop Jeremiah said as he slipped his arms around the bride and the groom, “is that you two have tied the knot, and that all these folks have gathered here to celebrate with you. Years from now you’ll look back on your wedding as the happiest event in your life—and you’ll recall this minor incident with a chuckle. What passed between Lydianne and Glenn today won’t affect your love for one another one iota.”
Gabe glanced behind them, at the folks who’d resumed their conversations and were slowly going outside. “Jah, I suppose we should be making our way into the tent and accepting everyone’s congratulations,” he said to Regina. His face regained its glow. “I don’t want us to miss even a minute of this day, Mrs. Flaud! Our lives have worked out just the way we wanted, ain’t so?”
Regina’s face flushed a pretty pink beneath her freckles. “Jah, you’re right. It’s all gut—and I’ve been waiting all morning for this meal, because I was too excited to eat any breakfast.”
With a squeeze of Lydianne’s hand, Regina started toward the door with her new husband. As Lydianne watched them go, she was acutely aware that she and Jeremiah were the only folks left in the large room full of pew benches. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
“Let it go, Lydianne,” he said softly. “It wouldn’t be a wedding if some unexpected little thing didn’t happen.”
When she looked gratefully into Jeremiah’s deep brown eyes, she saw a flicker of intense regret—or was it sorrow?—before he glanced away. “Denki for seeing it that way,” she murmured. “I’ll try not to cause any more trouble.”
As she took her seat beside Regina at the eck and the meal was served, Lydianne sensed folks were watching her—but they weren’t watching Glenn, because he’d chosen not to rejoin the wedding party. The traditional “roast” made of chicken and stuffing, along with mashed potatoes, creamed celery, green beans, dinner rolls, and an array of fresh pies was probably delicious, but she ate without tasting much of it. It felt odd to be the only other person seated with the
bride and groom, as though she were a third wheel.
I could’ve been kinder. Glenn hasn’t recovered from the loss of his wife.
Even so, Lydianne told herself that he’d made his own moves and she couldn’t have changed them. As the first sitting of guests left the tent to allow the second sitting folks to eat their meal, she made her way between the long tables. Ladies from the congregation were wiping off tablecloths and picking up dirty dishes—but as a side-sitter, she was excused from those duties.
She stepped out into the October sunshine, wondering if she should call attention to her early departure by hitching up her rig—or simply slip behind the house to walk home, and come back later for her mare and the buggy. No one seemed to notice that she was standing alone, in a stew, so Lydianne turned to go. She felt horrible, leaving the festivities before Gabe and Regina had even cut their cake—
“Teacher Lydianne! Teacher Lydianne!” a familiar voice called out behind her.
Lydianne closed her eyes. It would be so rude, and such a bad example, if she kept on walking and ignored the little girl who’d spotted her . . . especially because Ella was so special, and her feelings would be hurt. Putting on a smile, Lydianne turned and, as the little blonde launched herself, had no choice but to catch her in an enthusiastic hug.
“I’ve been lookin’ all over for you! You look real pretty in your new dress, Teacher Lydianne,” Ella gushed. “It must be exciting, to sit right up front with the bride!”
Why would she want to contradict the angelic little girl in her arms—her very own daughter, who was gazing at her with adoring blue eyes so like Aden’s? “It’s a special honor to be a side-sitter, jah,” Lydianne agreed. “And don’t you look pretty in your new dress, too? That color of pink—”
“Mamma says the side-sitter by the bride is the one who’s gonna get married next,” Ella piped up. “Is that true, Teacher Lydianne? Are you gonna get married someday soon?”
A large knot formed in her throat. How deeply ironic it was that the cherub asking her this question was the very reason she could never marry—but she could not admit she was Ella’s birth mother, nor did she want to spoil the child’s sunny, innocent mood.
“Oh, I don’t know about that, sweetie,” she hedged when she could find her voice. “Regina asked me to be her side-sitter because we’re best friends—”
“Like me and Gracie!”
Lydianne smiled, grateful for Ella’s perceptive remark. “That’s exactly right. And besides,” she added, tweaking her daughter’s upturned nose, “if I got married, I’d have to stop being your teacher.”
Ella’s eyes widened and her mouth became a perfect O. “We don’t want that,” she whispered in a worried little voice. “So . . . if you’re not gettin’ married, that’s a gut thing for us kids, jah?”
“That’s the way I see it, too,” Lydianne replied gratefully. When she saw Julia Nissley in the crowd watching them, she waved and set Ella on the ground. “There’s your mamm, sweetie. I bet she’s ready to go into the tent and eat that yummy wedding dinner, because it’s your turn now.”
With another endearing smile, Ella raced off to rejoin her mother. Lydianne felt oddly bereft after releasing her little girl—all the more reason to escape from the crowd and deal with the emotions that had suddenly overwhelmed her.
All the way home, she kept her face turned away from the road so no one would notice she was crying as she walked. Bless her heart, Ella had stirred up a hornet’s nest of raw feelings that Lydianne thought she’d reconciled long ago.
Hadn’t she accepted the fact that because she and Aden had made a baby—and he’d died before they could marry—she would remain a maidel forever?
As her yellow house came into view, Lydianne realized just how much of a toll participating in Regina’s ceremony had taken, knowing she’d never have one of her own. Constantly reminding herself that her best friend was very happy had helped her survive the ceremony—until Glenn had assumed she was delighted to be paired up with him. His suggestive remark had triggered more angst than she could have guessed—
But that’s behind you now. Change into your old comfortable clothes and spend the rest of the day licking your wounds, so you can show up at school tomorrow with clear eyes, ready to teach those dear children.
Chapter Fourteen
As she and her friends stood in the shade among other wedding guests who’d finished their dinner, Jo watched Lydianne disappear behind the Miller house—and then saw her walking along the fence toward the road. She stepped closer to Molly and Marietta. “Something’s not right with Lydianne today,” she murmured. “I can understand why she was startled when Glenn showed up as Gabe’s side-sitter, but it’s not like her to let such a thing spoil her whole day.”
“Jah, who’d ever imagine she’d leave Regina’s wedding?” Molly asked as she, too, caught sight of the retreating side-sitter.
“Those two have been best friends ever since Lydianne came here,” Marietta put in. “I think they share a special bond because Regina lost her parents so young, and because when Lydianne arrived, she didn’t seem to have any family, either.”
“Which is pretty odd, when you think about it,” Molly remarked. “She moved right into her rental house—alone. I guess because she hasn’t mentioned anybody but a couple older sisters who live at a distance, we’ve not quizzed her about her previous home or her family.”
“She’s been pretty private about those things, jah,” Jo agreed speculatively. “But still—I hate to see her heading home so early in the day. She must be very upset about something, and I don’t like to think about her dealing with it all by herself.”
Molly considered the issue for a moment. “Do you suppose we should go over there? We’ll tell Regina we’re checking on Lydianne—and not totally skipping out on her party.”
Jo sighed. Because she and her mother had given the Helfing twins a ride, she foresaw a potential problem. “It’s the right thing to do—and Lydianne would do that for any of us—but I hate to leave, in case Mamm wants to go home before we return.”
“We’d be happy to run your mother home,” a familiar male voice behind her put in.
Jo blinked. When she turned, Michael Wengerd, who’d been chatting with a couple of the other young men in attendance, flashed her a brilliant smile. “Sorry if I overheard your conversation and butted in,” he continued apologetically. “Considering all the extra meals your mamm cooks for us—and the way she accommodated us when we came back last night for Gabe’s wedding—giving her a ride’s the least Dat and I can do.”
For a moment, Jo got so caught up in his sparkling eyes, watching them change from blue to gray and back again, that she forgot to respond. “Uh—oh, but that would be very nice of you!” she said a little too quickly.
He nodded, suddenly seeming as shy and tongue-tied as Jo herself felt. “I’ll let Mamm know—and we girls will be off. The sooner we can talk with Lydianne, the sooner we’ll be back. Denki for your offer, Michael.”
Jo noticed the knowing look that passed between the twins, but she didn’t take their bait. Why should she make a big deal out of Michael’s kind offer, when there couldn’t possibly be any romantic interest attached to it? Molly and Marietta were seeing what they wanted to see, but Jo knew better. Even if Michael weren’t so quiet and shy, he’d never be attracted to a tall, big-boned, horsey-faced girl like her. No man in his right mind would consider Joe Fussner’s look-alike daughter as marriage material.
After they found Mamm in the crowd and told her she had a ride home if she needed it, Jo led the way to the long line of buggies parked alongside the pasture on the gravel lane leading from the road to the Miller house. While Jo whistled for her horse, Molly rolled the rig backward and away from the fence. A few minutes later they were driving down the road.
“It was very nice of Michael to speak up about taking your mamm back,” Marietta began with a knowing smile.
Jo shrugged. “Michael—and his dat—ar
e both very polite,” she remarked, hoping to let the matter go at that.
“So, when it’s time for a meal,” Molly took up the thread, “does Drusilla carry their food out to the dawdi haus? Or do they eat in the kitchen with you two?”
Jo laughed out loud, knowing the twins were fishing. “When they first started staying over on Friday nights before working at The Marketplace on Saturdays, she wanted no part of having them in the house. But after Nelson fixed a clogged drain and replaced the glass in a window for her, she softened up a bit.”
Watching for cars, Jo navigated the turn onto the county highway that ran through Morning Star. “Now they show up around six on Fridays for supper. It saves Mamm and me the effort of toting their meal over to them and fetching their dirty dishes, after all.”
“Uh-huh,” Marietta teased. “You can deny it till the cows come home, Jo, but I think you and your mamm enjoy the Wengerds’ company more than you’re letting on.”
“Why wouldn’t we enjoy their company?” Jo shot back defensively. “I could make the same assumptions about you two and Pete, but I’m considerate enough to keep my speculations to myself.”
Although the twins exchanged one of their silent communications—probably confirming that they were right about her and Michael—they stopped teasing her.
The buggy rolled through Morning Star slowly because of all the cars on the road, but finally Jo guided her mare toward the familiar lane leading up to Lydianne’s house. It was a neatly kept home, still painted the deep yellow her English landlord had chosen. With the maple foliage in the front yard starting to turn orange and deep red, Lydianne’s place was as pretty as a picture postcard.
“What do you suppose we ought to say to her?” Jo asked as she drove up Lydianne’s lane.
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