by Sarah Price
“You need to get out, Fanny,” Naomi pressed, her attentiveness surprising her niece. In eight years Naomi had rarely noticed Fanny unless it was to criticize her or give her more work to do. “Be with other young people.” She looked at Timothy. “She must go. It’s unnatural for young people to not like being together!”
“Ja, you need to socialize.”
That one word, socialize, spoken from Timothy’s lips, gave Fanny even more reason to pause. Timothy never encouraged any of the women in his household to socialize, much less her. Most of his attention was on Elijah, and all of Naomi’s was on Miriam.
Finally Fanny had given in to their wishes, and now, as she sat on a ladder-back chair in the Yoders’ house, she eyeballed the battery-operated clock that hung on the wall over the stove and wondered how long she must sit there before she could sneak out the door and walk home. It was only a mile and a half walk. She could make it back to the farm in less than thirty minutes, and with any luck, Timothy and Martha would already be asleep. As for Naomi, she would have retired to the grossdawdihaus long before now.
When she looked away from the clock, she noticed that Elijah stood near Mary, their shoulders almost touching. Fanny didn’t have to imagine that, for Elijah especially, the couple saw no one else in the room. Their attention to each other was more than obvious, even when Mary occasionally looked away from him in what Fanny thought was a coy and calculated manner. Oh! The sight of that made her feel the familiar tightness in her chest. How could it be that everything had changed, once again, after such a promising few weeks?
“Fanny,” a deep voice said from her left.
Upon hearing her name, she turned her head away from Elijah and Mary. It was Henry, standing beside her with two cups in his hands. She stiffened her back and stared straight ahead.
He paid her no attention and sat on the vacant chair beside her. “I brought you some lemonade,” he said, handing her a plastic cup. “You looked thirsty sitting over here by yourself.”
“Danke.” She took the cup but did not raise it to her lips.
“I was surprised to see you come back for the singing tonight.”
When his pause turned into an uncomfortable silence, she found herself embarrassed for not replying. As much as she didn’t care for Henry, she didn’t want to appear rude. So, despite her reluctance to engage with him, she managed to say, “I can’t imagine why my actions would be of any interest to you, never mind surprise.”
He laughed at her comment. “That is the very reason, Fanny Price! You expect no interest. And therefore you create interest!”
She didn’t like the direction of this conversation.
“It was a compliment,” Henry said when she did not react.
“I reckon I’d prefer to be ignored than to solicit untoward interest.”
He laughed once again and Fanny took the opportunity to stand up, hoping to move away from him.
When she felt his hand on her arm, she stopped and turned to look at him.
“I was wondering . . . ”
She felt her eyelids shut in a slow, heavy blink.
“ . . . Elijah is to take Mary for a buggy ride later,” he said.
“She is staying here,” Fanny pointed out. “That’s silly.”
Henry shrugged. “Mayhaps, but I offered to take you home. I’m sure that is not something you’d say no to.”
“Danke, Henry, but I’m more than happy to walk.”
He glanced over his shoulder in the direction where Mary stood talking with Elijah. “That’s just the thing, Fanny. I promised Elijah that I would look after you.”
Fanny doubted any such thing. Elijah would never elicit such a promise from anyone. Fanny was, after all, more than capable of walking home from the Yoders’ house. She wondered if Henry was outright lying or merely exaggerating.
“There is no need, Henry. Miriam and Julia . . . ”
He interrupted her. “ . . . seem to have already left.”
At his words, she looked around. Neither Miriam nor Jeb were in the room, and it appeared that Julia too was nowhere in sight.
“Still, I prefer the fresh air,” Fanny insisted. “But thank you again for the offer.”
“Always so modest,” he said lightly. “I insist. I will use the bishop’s buggy and that, my dear Fanny, is open-topped. You shall have all of the fresh air you would like.”
There was nothing more that Fanny could say on the matter without causing a scene. Henry seemed more than satisfied; after all, he had covered every argument that she could possibly offer. What struck her as even more infuriating was the fact that the harder she tried to thwart his pursuit, the more he seemed to chase her.
For the next hour she sat in the chair, barely able to focus on the words of the songs being sung. If propriety was not a problem, she would have snuck out and walked home before the break when, undoubtedly, Henry would signal her that it was time to leave. Anyone who was nearby would see his gesture, for sure and certain. And then the rumors would begin.
Fanny began to feel resentment toward Henry. She didn’t want to be in this situation, having people talk about her, and, even more so, she did not want to be riding home with him. Not once had she given him any indication that she favored him. That alone had encouraged him. With all of the other young women pining for him, why on earth would he want the only one who did not?
When the next set of songs ended, Henry started to walk toward the door. He paused, just as Fanny expected he would do, and lifted his hand to catch her attention. She didn’t even have to look at the groups of women to know that every single one of them turned and stared, wondering which lucky woman had captured Henry’s attention. And, as Fanny reluctantly joined him, she heard more than a few whispers from the other side of the room.
Miriam and Julia walked into the house as Henry and Fanny were leaving. Julia looked the other way, her chin tilted in the air with indignation. But Miriam stopped walking and blocked the couple’s way. “Hey now, what is this?” she asked, her eyes meeting Henry’s, an imposing look on her face. “The singing isn’t over yet, is it?”
Henry regarded her with a cool look, his gaze flickering over her shoulder as Jeb approached. “It is for us, ja,” Henry said dismissively. He nodded at Jeb and then, in a gesture far too friendly and comfortable for Fanny’s liking, he took her arm and guided her through the side door.
Fanny did not need to turn around to know that Miriam turned to watch them, dumbfounded at Henry’s unexpected departure.
“It’s a wonder that your cousin is here tonight,” he said as he helped Fanny into the buggy. “She’s to be married quite soon, I understand.”
“Ja, this is her last youth singing, I suppose.”
Henry said nothing as he untied the horse and tossed the lead rope into the back seat of the buggy. With expertise he backed up his brother-in-law’s horse, the open-top buggy jostling so that Fanny fell against him. In the glow of the dashboard lights, she thought she saw him smile. As quick as she could, she scooted further away.
“So Fanny Price,” he started. “Tell me all about yourself.”
Her heart beat rapidly and she stared into the darkness. The air was cold and she shivered. Her coat was not enough to remove the chill that she felt. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“I’ve heard tell that you lived in Colorado,” he said.
She hated the fact that he ‘heard tell’ anything about her. Any inquisition that he must have made certainly increased the likelihood that people would talk.
“Tell me about Colorado.”
“I’d rather not,” she said in a flat voice. “It was a long time ago.”
“Were there mountains?”
“Ja.”
“Snow covered?”
His genuine interest surprised her. “I remember that they were, ja.”
He sighed. “I’ve always wanted to travel,” he said. “So many places to see. And I’d love to hike up a large mountain.”
“No one hikes that mountain. Not from my parents’ community, anyway.”
He shifted his weight, his body more open to hers. “Not hike it! That’s such a shame.”
“I always thought it would be fun to walk to one of the peaks,” she admitted. “But I was only ten years old when I left, and what does a child know of such things?”
They rode in silence for a few minutes, Henry seeming to focus on either his driving or the idea of a mountain. She wasn’t about to ask him which, so she enjoyed the break in conversation. She couldn’t imagine Henry hiking a mountain or traveling to different states or exploring anything else, for that matter. His enthusiasm for the comforts of friendly camaraderie was far too great to entice him to visit such a remote place as Colorado.
“I’ve decided to move to Mount Hope,” he said at last.
She remained silent, uncertain how to respond to such a statement. What would he do in Mount Hope? He couldn’t farm and he had no trade. Was Mount Hope so much more appealing than Gordonville?
“Why, that’s surprising,” she managed to say, hoping that her voice did not give away her true feelings. “Whatever for?”
He smiled and looked at her with a sideways glance. “I have decided that my future lies here, Fanny Price! And I will be purchasing the bishop’s small property. There’s just enough land there for me to make a living, especially if I clear the wooded section in the back.”
Stunned, Fanny sat there and said nothing. His future? What future could he possibly have in Mount Hope? With all of his family back in Gordonville, Pennsylvania, that is where his future should be. Of course, she suspected that he meant he was choosing to make his future in Mount Hope, most likely because he suspected his sister would be marrying Elijah.
“And I was wondering . . . ” He paused to take a deep breath of air. “ . . . mayhaps you’d let me come calling on you, Fanny.”
She shut her eyes and swallowed. Come calling? On her? She knew far too little about this man, and the little she did know, she certainly did not like.
“I—I am not so sure,” she forced herself to respond. “I have so much work to do and do not socialize much.” She hoped that last bit would soften the blow. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but she wasn’t about to encourage him when he was the last man on the face of the earth that she would consider marrying. And that was where courtship led: marriage.
She pointed up ahead. “There’s my mailbox,” she said. “You can let me off there, please.”
When he slowed down the horse, she didn’t even wait for it to come to a standstill before she jumped out. “Danke for the ride, Henry,” she mumbled and darted toward the lane, hoping that he couldn’t see the humiliation that colored her cheeks crimson. She had never been asked to be courted and she had never given it much thought. But she knew that there was only one person she would want to ask that favor, and that one person was most likely riding in his own buggy with Mary Coblentz. Between Henry’s awkward question and her own disturbing realization, she couldn’t walk fast enough to get to the house. All she wanted was to retreat to the solitude of her bedroom and cry into her pillow.
Why, oh, why, did the one man she despised show such interest in her, while the one man she loved cared for another?
Chapter 14
FOR FANNY, MIRIAM’S wedding day seemed longer than any other day in her life. The morning worship service followed too quick on the heels of Sunday’s communion service. By the time that Miriam and Jeb were asked to stand in the front of the room before the bishop, Fanny’s back ached and she could barely fathom how she would survive another hour seated on the hard wooden bench.
She knew that she should have paid closer attention as Jeb and Miriam repeated their wedding vows. However, the stress of dealing with Miriam the previous day had sapped what little enthusiasm she could summon for the wedding.
All day on Monday Fanny had worked tirelessly beside Julia and Elijah as they set up the first floor for Tuesday’s wedding. While most brides would work alongside their family, Miriam had spent her time crying to Naomi, first with emotion over the importance of her upcoming wedding day, but later when Jeb arrived with the list of unmarried people attending the wedding, her tears turned to distress.
As was common at all Amish weddings, the bride and groom played matchmaker, setting up the evening meal’s sitting arrangements for the unmarried guests at their celebration. Fanny was helping bake pecan pies in the kitchen when the first of Miriam’s tirades began.
“Henry and Fanny?” she yelled. “No! I will not have them paired together.”
Jeb remained calm when he confronted his bride. “Now Miriam, she is the only person that Henry knows here, besides Julia. So you need to decide which one is more to your fancy.”
When Miriam realized that she had to choose between the two women—her sister and her cousin—she began crying once again. Naomi was quick to put her arm around Miriam’s shoulders and whisper, “Wedding jitters, no doubt” to Jeb.
Regardless of whether or not Miriam felt wedding jitters at all, Fanny cringed when she realized that she would have to be in the company of Henry Coblentz again for the majority of the evening after Jeb and Miriam’s wedding.
And now Fanny sat on the bench and watched Miriam stand beside Jeb in her pretty new blue dress, as the bishop went through their wedding vows.
“Can you both confess and believe that God 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?” The bishop turned to face Jeb. “Do you also have confidence, brother, that the Lord has provided this, our sister, as a marriage partner for you?”
When Jeb proclaimed a loud “Yes,” the bishop turned back toward Miriam.
“Do you also have the confidence, sister, that the Lord has provided this, our brother, as a marriage partner for you?”
For the briefest of seconds, she hesitated. From the smile on Jeb’s face, Fanny could only presume that he mistook the pause for modesty, but from where Fanny sat she could see that Miriam’s eyes, though downcast, glanced in the direction where Henry was seated.
“Yes,” she responded at last.
Jeb’s shoulders straightened and he lifted his head just enough to show his pride in his lovely young bride that had agreed that he, Jeb Riehl, was truly provided by the Lord to be her husband.
The bishop turned back to Jeb and asked, “Do you also promise your wife that if she should in bodily weakness, sickness, or any similar circumstances need your help, that you will care for her as is fitting for a Christian husband?”
Another resounding “Yes” came from Jeb’s lips.
“And Miriam,” the bishop continued. “Do you promise your husband the same thing, that if he should in bodily weakness, sickness, or any similar circumstances need your help, that you will care for him as is fitting for a Christian wife?”
This time she shuffled her feet as if shifting her weight, a movement that finally spoke of the edge that remained on her nerves. Fanny looked toward Elijah, who sat on the other side of the room with the men, wondering if he had seen Miriam’s discomfort. But he was too busy staring at Mary.
“Yes,” Miriam answered at last.
The vows ended with the bishop addressing them both for one last question: “Do you both promise together that you will with love, forbearance, and patience live with each other, and not part from each other until God will separate you in death?”
In unison both Jeb and Miriam said, “Yes.” Fanny wondered if anyone else noticed how Jeb’s face glowed with joy while Miriam’s simmered with barely suppressed misery. But she knew that most people were probably feeling just as uncomfortable as she was, tired from so much sitting.
The smell of good food from the kitchen had begun to permeate the room, and more than one rumbling stomach revealed that no one was paying as much attention to the vows that had just been spoken as they were to their own
pangs of hunger.
With the vows finished, Miriam and Jeb sat down in the front of the room while the congregation began singing the final hymn. Fanny glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen and saw two young women hurrying about as they began to prepare the food for the first meal of the day. Unable to sit any longer, Fanny quietly stood up and hurried to help them. Normally other members of the church district helped with the preparation so that the family of the wedding couple could enjoy the day. Fanny, however, suspected that she would take greater delight in working than in visiting.
After the service finally ended, many of the men retreated outside to visit with each other while the women set up the room. The wooden benches were quickly converted into a long U-shaped table. White table clothes were spread over them and benches positioned around them so that the guests could sit while they enjoyed their dinner meal. With so many people in attendance, they would have two sittings at noon where roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, steaming hot green beans, and other wonderful foods would be set in the middle of the tables. Miriam would sit to the left of Jeb in one of the corners while the other corner would be left to display the desserts.
Happily, Fanny worked alongside the other women in the kitchen, not caring that she was hungry and missing her own meal. The last thing she wanted to do was to sit still and see any more of Elijah mooning over Mary. She was well aware that far too many couples met at weddings while just as many who already were courting became engaged.
Equally as distressing was the fact that she knew she had been set up to sit with Henry during the five o’clock meal. She couldn’t even begin to think about having to sit across from him for an entire meal. Besides having nothing to say to him, and him having nothing of interest to say to her, she just dreaded the thought of people speculating why they had been matched together.
And she was far too aware that Elijah had been matched with Mary. Oh, how she dreaded looking down the table to see Elijah seated across from Mary, the two of them talking and laughing. The rest of the guests would see how comfortable they were in each other’s company and tongues would begin wagging, for sure and certain.