A Promise of Grace

by Lynette Sowell

  However, she had a problem. She had four hundred cupcakes for a wedding that wouldn’t take place after all. They covered the kitchen counter and all of her breakfast bar.

  * * *

  With the tumult of the day winding down, Silas headed to Rochelle’s home. He needed to speak to her and not put it off any longer. He knew Betsy would be there as well, so tongues wouldn’t wag. However, if everything went as he hoped, the time for tongue wagging would be over for them.

  Rochelle let him in. Her eyes looked tired, but she smiled at him. “I’m glad to see you.”

  “And I’m glad to see you.” He followed her to the kitchen, where every horizontal surface was covered with unfrosted cupcakes. “This is a lot of cupcakes.”

  “Yes, unfortunately, it is . . . they were to have been Emma’s, for her wedding.”

  “It’s why I’m here. How is Steven?”

  “Angry. Hurt. Maybe a bit relieved, but I don’t think he’ll admit it yet.” She shook her head and sighed. “Emma’s gone back to Ohio. Eli Troyer, too. Her parents filled me in on the story.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Evidently, her parents told her they were being pressured, threatened to be put on the banns because of their ‘extravagance’ with the weddings according to their new bishop. Plus, the girl was simply homesick.” Rochelle gestured toward the door outside. “Do you want to sit on the lanai?”

  “Here is fine.” He pulled an empty chair away from the table.

  “Anyway, she liked Pinecraft because it’s such a special place during the winter. Everyone’s playing and vacationing. But she had a taste of Pinecraft during the rest of the year. We still have to work, just like everyone else. And Steven . . .” Rochelle sighed.

  “Lena told me her side of the story. She likes Steven, but was always respectful of the fact he and Emma were getting married.” Silas tried to choose his words carefully.

  “Oh, I knew something was brewing with those two, but I didn’t suspect they’d done anything improper.” Rochelle sighed again. “Young people and the decisions they make sometimes.”

  “I’m glad the wedding is off, for both their sakes, if they’re truly not ready.”

  “Me too.” She scanned the room. “So, do you want to help me frost some cupcakes tonight? I suppose Betsy will have lots of extra desserts for her wedding.” She laughed, softly.

  Silas stood. He glanced at the cupcakes. “I can help you.”

  “I was half-joking.”

  “I’m serious. I’ll help. Do you have frosting?”

  “I’m going to make some. Betsy said she’d help me.”

  “Help you do what?” Betsy entered the kitchen. “Hi, Silas.” She gave her aunt a grin.

  “Make frosting.”

  “Of course, it’ll take a moment to whip it up. Did you get enough powdered sugar?”

  “Emma bought it, so I hope so.” Rochelle went for the mixer.

  Betsy waved her away. “No, go, spend a moment with your Silas.”

  Her Silas. He had to grin at Betsy’s words. “Come, let’s go to the backyard. I have something to ask you.”

  “Okay.”

  His heart pounded in his throat, the entire trip from the kitchen, out the door to the lanai, then out the screen door to the patch of lawn beside the creek.

  Suddenly his palms were sweating worse than a youth’s did. You’re a chicken, Silas Fry. Despite the arrogance of your youth, the confidence of a pilot, the experience of a mature man, deep down, you’re a chicken when it comes to Rochelle Keim.

  “It’s going to be a beautiful night,” Rochelle said. “Look at the sunset.”

  He did. God had painted the twilight a vivid pinkish red, blending into purple and a deep blue where a single star glowed. The palm trees stood out in sharp contrast to the sky.

  “Yes, it’s a beautiful night already.” He licked his lips. “There’s something I want to ask you. I don’t want to wait too long.”

  “What is it?”

  “Rochelle Keim, I loved you when we were only youth. I was prideful, young, immature. I didn’t give us a chance like I should have . . .” Part of his decision back then, he blamed on Belinda. “But now, being here again, I believe God’s given us a second chance. I don’t want to throw it away. Will you be my wife? Will you marry me?”

  Astonishment swept across her face. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. “I . . . I . . .”

  “Please . . . our stubbornness kept us apart before, but now . . .”

  “I’m . . . can I have a moment, please?”

  * * *

  Rochelle stumbled into her bedroom, ignoring Betsy’s expression of concern as she darted through the kitchen.

  Silas had proposed. At last. It was what she’d dreamed of years ago, a dream she’d let die.

  But was now their time?

  Yes, she cared for him, loved him. Did it mean they should build a life together?

  The sting returned about Lena, John, and the story Belinda and Silas had kept from everyone.

  She leaned on her dresser, where the box from Leah Graber rested, Leah’s project box.

  Open it.

  The two words ricocheted inside her brain. Someone had hand-carved the box, a fine example of Amish workmanship.

  She flipped open the lid. Some receipts, faded. A few empty envelopes, never used. Postage stamps. And an envelope, addressed to her, covered with stamps and multiple postmarks from overseas.

  And the printing was Belinda’s neat handwriting, the envelope postmarked eighteen years ago.

  Her knees turned into noodles, but somehow she stumbled to the bed and peeled open the envelope.

  Dear Rochelle,

  I didn’t have your address in Pinecraft, so I am writing to you at Leah Graber’s because I know you have been working for her. I am writing this letter because I want you, of all people, to know the truth. As our little Lena plays in the sunshine after taking her first steps, I know I can’t be silent anymore. Not to you. You, of all people, deserve to know.

  Lena is really John’s child.

  Silas and I didn’t want you to think the worst of us. Especially me.

  You have and always will be my dearest friend in the world. But when I lost John and found out I was pregnant, I didn’t know what to do. Silas promised to take care of me, and he has. Please forgive us. I hope you will, someday. Because of my pride and shame, I didn’t care if you and Silas reconciled. For that, I will always be sorry.

  With much love, always,

  Belinda

  Why hadn’t Leah given her the envelope? Maybe it was being busy, forgetful.

  Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter now. Even if Leah had indeed given her the letter years ago, the contents of the letter wouldn’t have changed the circumstances.

  Rochelle clutched the letter to her chest. “Oh, Belinda, I forgive you. I’ll always miss you. But someday, we’ll get our reunion . . .”

  And Silas was outside, waiting for her now. She put the letter on the bed and ran for the lanai. She passed Betsy again, the mixer whining and whirring as it whipped the buttercream.

  He stood facing Phillippi Creek, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

  “Silas.”

  He turned in her direction, his face shadowed in the fading light.

  “Well?” he asked.

  She went as easily into his arms as she’d done years ago. “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you.”

  Not caring if the neighbors saw them, she let him kiss her thoroughly.

  “I think we need to speak to Pastor Marvin, first thing in the morning,” he said, after leaving her breathless.

  “First thing in the morning?”

  “We should find out if Betsy and Thaddeus mind sharing their wedding day with us.”

  “In four days?” So soon, and yet she’d waited years . . .

  “After we speak to the pastor, we can get our marriage license.”

  “Come to think of it, your parents, our fami
lies, everyone is here already . . .” Some might say this happened too quickly, but others might agree it was a long time in coming.

  He kissed her forehead. “Besides, you have hundreds of cupcakes in the kitchen needing to be put to good use.”

  “And I already have a new dress . . .”

  “Then it’s settled. We’re getting married in four days.” He swept her up into his arms and tried to spin her around.

  Then he stumbled, and they both collapsed onto the lawn and burst out laughing.

  “Did you hurt yourself?” She rolled over on her side. She’d landed on her hip, but the ground was soft.

  “No.” He leaned over and kissed her again.

  “What on earth?” Betsy came running from the lanai. “I saw you out the kitchen window? Are you all right?”

  “We’re fine.” Rochelle sat up, adjusting her kapp. “We’re just fine now.”

  “So, Betsy, about your wedding day . . .”

  31

  I never imagined this would be my wedding dress.” Rochelle stood at the mirror. She adjusted her prayer covering, which looked a bit off-center at first. There. Its whiteness provided a fresh contrast to the vivid blue of the dress. If she liked the choice of fabric color the first time she’d seen it several months ago in Frances Fry’s sewing room, she loved it now.

  Truly, she didn’t know if Pinecraft had ever seen such a nontraditional wedding day before. The order of services would not be any different, however. If only Daddy and Momma could have been here. At last, their daughter and Silas Fry, speaking vows before friends, family, and God above.

  “You look beautiful.” Lena stood in the doorway. Her own dress, a soft shade of lilac, brought out the sun-kissed tones of her skin.

  A daughter. Not only was Rochelle marrying Silas, but she’d gain a daughter. And a son, too. Of course, they didn’t need much raising.

  “Thank you. So do you. You . . . you remind me so much of your mother at the same age.”

  “Chelle, do you mind if we . . . talk, for a few minutes?”

  “Of course not. Come in, sit down.” Rochelle motioned to the bed.

  “I wish . . . I wish I had had the chance to know you before, that you and . . . my mother could have made things right between the two of you.” Lena entered the room, closing the door behind her, and sank onto Rochelle’s bed.

  “Me too. But after she and your father married, I couldn’t help it. I knew I needed to stay away from them. It hurt too much.” As Rochelle spoke the words, they didn’t sting like they might have once. “I knew I couldn’t have a life in Ohio. And then, I heard you’d come along.”

  “Sorry.” Lena half-smiled.

  Rochelle had to smile, too. “Anyway, it’s in the past. I’m not replacing your mother. No one could.” Rochelle perched on a free spot on the corner of the bed.

  “Oh, I know. But it will be good to have another woman I can talk to.” Lena sat down beside her. “Speaking of talking, I’m sorry for not talking to you until now. I was angry about my mother. The letter shows she tried to tell the truth, but . . .”

  “It was a lot for me to take in, too. I can’t imagine how it was for you, and for your brother also. But I promise, I’ll be here for you, and for Matthew.”

  “Thank you.” Lena frowned, then smoothed her dress. “I wanted to say, I’m . . . I’m sorry for how I acted when I found out about Dad not being my, ah, real father. I felt ashamed. Then mad. I don’t think I’ve ever been so mad in my whole life. Not since Mom died.”

  Rochelle nodded slowly. “I know. I was angry with your father and mother, too. I thought . . .” She stopped. She didn’t want to share her thoughts, it hurt worse to know he and Belinda had created a child together, so soon. It had never occurred to her Lena wasn’t Silas’s daughter.

  “My Dad broke your heart.”

  Rochelle nodded again. “Part of it was my fault. I was angry then, blaming him for John’s death . . . your father’s death. It hurt, I have to admit, when I learned about the lie. Besides, Belinda—your mom—and your dad were married. Silas and I talked about this, if we’d only not been so stubborn.”

  “Matthew wouldn’t be here. I can’t imagine not having my little brother around.” Lena shivered. “We can all sure mess things up sometimes, can’t we?”

  “God works well at untying our snags.”

  “But some snags can’t be fixed.”

  “Maybe some snags aren’t meant to be fixed, but transformed, into something beautiful instead.” She studied the young girl’s face. “What is it?”

  “I feel bad about Emma leaving like she did. I wasn’t looking to meet Steven. I didn’t think . . .” Lena bit her lip. “I wasn’t trying to cause trouble.”

  “Oh, my dear. You didn’t cause any trouble, not at all. In fact, I feel as if I was the one who had something to do with Emma leaving Pinecraft and going back to Ohio.”

  “You did? How?”

  “Emma was mulling over her dilemma, after Eli arrived in Pinecraft. I told her if she didn’t have a conversation she needed to have with the man she loved, then it would be a mistake.”

  “And she thought you meant Eli.”

  “She’d always loved Eli. But she was scared, unsure of herself. I think she wanted what Betsy had found, here. But her heart truly wasn’t in Pinecraft.” Rochelle shook her head at the recollection of Emma’s clients firing her. “She was never meant to keep other people’s houses or wait tables.”

  Lena released a pent-up breath. “Well, I’m happy for her. And me. And you, too.”

  Another soft rap at the door. “Is the bride ready to meet her groom?” Jolene’s soft voice sounded a bit muffled. “It’s time to leave for the ceremony. Nearly everyone’s arrived.”

  The day-long, back-to-back wedding ceremonies were the talk of Pinecraft. They had set up chairs, as many as would fit on the green lawn near the park, at the base of a tree dripping with Spanish moss. First, Silas and Rochelle would wed and their guests would disperse so the wedding guests for Betsy and Thaddeus could assemble, and their ceremony would take place. After both ceremonies were completed, the entire entourage would make their way to the Tourist Church hall, where everyone would enjoy a grand feast together.

  “I’m ready.” A lump swelled in Rochelle’s throat. She would not, could not, cry. Today was not a day for tears, or mourning. She’d had enough of those days. Today was a day of a promise fulfilled, a long-dormant longing granted.

  “Let’s go,” Lena said as she stood with a smile on her face.

  Rochelle stood, ready to leave her bedroom for the last time as Rochelle Keim. Lena surprised her with a quick hug.

  * * *

  Not far from the banks of Phillippi Creek, Silas Fry married Rochelle Keim. At last. At long last.

  Their wedding party was a simple one, with Rochelle’s sister standing as her matron of honor, and his father standing up for him.

  As the sound of voices raised in song drifted away, Silas turned to face her.

  “Well, it’s you and me.”

  Her face radiated joy along with the late morning sun. “Yes, it is.”

  Then the well-wishers descended upon them, and the naysayers were likely home, boycotting the day. But he’d lost Belinda more than a year ago, had mourned her. What happened in the last several months between him and Rochelle . . .

  Grace. Restoration. Another chance.

  She clutched his hand, and he pulled her closer beside him. No more worrying about who might see what or say what.

  “Mr. Fry.” Rochelle blushed, appearing to him as if twenty years hadn’t passed between them.

  The small crowd milled around, most of the wedding guests leaving their seats to make room for Betsy and Thaddeus’s guests. Some kept their seats; they were friends or family to both couples.

  “We’ve run out of chairs,” Rochelle observed.

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s stand in the back. I don’t mind if you don’t.” She smiled at him, an
d he wondered how he would get through the hours of another wedding, then the feast to follow for both him and his bride, along with Thaddeus and Betsy.

  “We’re already in the perfect honeymoon spot,” he said aloud.

  At this, Rochelle’s color deepened even more. “Silas Fry.”

  “What?” He grinned at her. “We’re married. People know it. And they won’t let us forget they know it.”

  She shook her head. “Honestly.”

  “Newlyweds, and you’re already attending your first wedding as husband and wife.” Henry Hostetler approached, looking as formal as Sunday in his black trousers and white shirt. He pumped Silas’s hand, following up with a half-hug for Rochelle. “I’m pleased as punch you two tied the knot. At last. I was wondering how long it would take.”

  “Not long, it turns out.” Rochelle punctuated her sentence with a laugh.

  “Well, I knew something was brewing the day of the fish fry.” He winked at them.

  “Back then?” Rochelle asked.

  “Are we all going to take a wedding trip together?” Matthew asked beside Silas.

  “No.” Silas tousled his son’s hair. “Rochelle and I are going to a beach cottage for three days, and then it’s back to work for all of us and back to school for you.”

  Three days, alone in a cottage, with her husband . . . Rochelle’s heart pounded. “Maybe when school lets out for the summer, we can all make a trip to Ohio.”

  “The wedding’s going to start,” Silas said, his voice soft and low.

  A few more guests took up the last few seats on the lawn. Rochelle felt tears prick the back of her eyes when she saw Thaddeus take his place, his attendants walking with him. Two empty chairs waited before the bishop, one chair for Thaddeus, the other for Betsy.

  Then came Betsy, her face glowing as she entered, her attendants ahead of her. The other women sat, and Betsy joined Thaddeus as they went to speak to the bishop and church leaders.

  How much joy Rochelle wanted for both of them. So blessed the two were, to have found each other.

  Her heart hurt for Nora Yoder, knowing her daughter had left them to return to Ohio. But likely Nora rejoiced, because Emma had made her own choice at last. Emma had phoned her mother from the shanty; she was back home in her old room.