Plain City Bridesmaids

by Dianne Christner

  “Give me the address. I’d like to go see him.”

  After the conversation ended, Fletch wondered why he hadn’t been informed earlier that Marshall’s son was in Plain City. The farm shelter was all his mentor had wanted to talk about. In their conversation, Marshall insinuated that Vic was one of the shelter’s volunteer vets, but Vic had never mentioned it to Fletch.

  Buddy licked his arm, and Fletch ruffled the basset’s head. “Wanna go for a walk?” Buddy responded by dancing in circles.

  Fletch went for the dog’s leash, remembering Marshall’s positive reaction to his description of dinner with the Landis family. Marshall had thought it was hilarious that Lillian was the one who’d backed into Britt’s car.

  “Ya better ask her out before some pasta maker plucks her off to Italy.”

  For a rich world traveler, opportunities were endless. Marshall could make anything sound feasible.

  But then, Lillian had skipped work after Fletch asked her to stay. She told him that her nieces and nephews had changed her mind, but he hoped it was his invitation. He’d like to believe that he would get one more look at her angelic, freckled face.

  Lil heard the door to the mudroom slam and quickly shoved the newspaper ad into the trash bin, while turning and pretending a calm demeanor. Her guilty conscience ebbed when Dad stormed into the room.

  Red-faced with anger, he stated, “Heaven is against us.”

  Lil’s blood went cold. Her dad never said such blasphemous things. Well, at least not in her presence.

  “Matt said the Plain City Bank won’t even listen to him. They want to talk to me, or I have to give him legal authorization.”

  “Well that can be worked out,” Lil soothed.

  Her father slumped into a kitchen chair. “And the hogs are sick.”

  “Oh, no!” Lil paced to the sink and back. “Well, you can call the vet that Fletch works for, can’t you?”

  “Hank already called him.” He pounded his fist on the table. “He should have been here by now.”

  Lil quickly went to the refrigerator and poured her dad a glass of lemonade, sliding it in front of him. She touched his arm. “You mustn’t lose heart.”

  He chugged the drink and pushed the empty glass away, turning to Lil with a bitter expression. “Why not? I’m losing my wife, my farm, and now my hogs. What is left?”

  “Your faith?” Lil reminded him, although she didn’t feel as though she should be the one to talk about God to a person as devoted as her dad, when she was not that … well, just was not. She tried to remember the last time she’d prayed. It had been on the way to the hospital when she’d petitioned for Mom’s life. God had spared her. She was about to remind her dad about that, but he spoke first.

  “Well we might be losing that, too. We might even be kicked out of church.”

  “Why?” Lil demanded, hoping she hadn’t done something to provoke the elders. Had Matt?

  “The preacher called again. This time he talked to me. He said that gossip is going around the church about your mom about why she doesn’t come to church anymore. He suggested it would be better for the unity of the believers if she comes before the congregation and publicly repents for trying to commit suicide.”

  Lil clutched the table.

  “He says the congregation will gladly forgive her. That it will help her recover. He asked me how I thought she’d respond to the idea.”

  “What!” Lil cried. “She’ll never do that. She’s too weak. She’d be humiliated. Why, he never talked like that the day he visited Mom. He—”

  “I know that. He claims the elders came up with it. He said they’re not demanding it, just recommending it. They want to help her.”

  “Well! They can recommend it to the moon!” Lil replied. She wondered how Katy and Megan’s dads, both elders in the church, could come up with something so hurtful for their friends. Tears burned her eyes. Surely that was what was riling her dad up, too.

  The house phone rang, and Lil resented the interruption, but Dad, who didn’t own a cell phone, jumped up to answer it. “Yah-low.” He nodded. “Be right there.”

  “What is it?” Lil’s hand flew to her heart fearfully, wondering what else might befall them. Perhaps the barn had collapsed, like in the book of Job. Surely her dad was right about heaven being against them.

  “Vet’s here.” He turned and strode away, leaving Lil to bear the burden of her hurt alone.

  She rushed to the window and saw a white Chevy pickup. The vet must have already gone inside the barn. Fletch drove a blue car. She wondered if he was out there, too. She watched her father’s squared shoulders, the image of a man bracing himself for the worst. Oh Lord, she prayed, I’m sorry I only pray in need. But there goes a man who’s been faithful to You. Please, won’t You help him? He’s my dad.

  Fletch felt his heart sink. Six piglets were coughing and two inside the creep, the portion of the pen that the sow couldn’t get into, had already expired. Vic examined one of the sick piglets and asked Will Landis, “Is this the first sign of pneumonia?”

  “Yep.”

  “Do you have a regular vaccination program?”

  “We did. We were using antibiotic feed, too. But we’ve been strapped and let up a bit.”

  The fear in the older man’s voice tore at Fletch, for they all knew that once something like Porcine Reproductive and Respiratory Syndrome got into a herd, it was a costly, lengthy process to rid the herd of the virus.

  Vic placed the piglet back in the straw and made a nest around the baby animal then picked up another. “Introduced any new breeders into the herd?”

  “Yep, last fall. Surely we would have seen signs before now if that was the cause?”

  Vic’s expression softened. “These are just routine questions. Could be parasites, could just be a sick sow. I’d like to get a blood sample from her and take the two dead corpses back to the lab. Either way, we should get you started back on a vaccine routine and feed precautions.”

  Will gave a frustrated nod.

  Vic placed the piglet down and stood. “Fletch? Can I have a word with you?” They moved to a nearby corner, and the vet placed his hand on Fletch’s shoulder. “I’ve seen this kind of thing sweep through a herd. It’s hard to eradicate.”

  “The Landis farm is already in financial trouble,” Fletch replied.

  “I can give them a discount, but if you’d want to volunteer your time for the vaccinations and some ongoing blood draws, it would help me and the Landises, too. I know you’ve become friends with Matt. Would you be willing to do that?”

  Fletch was eager to help Matt—and Lillian, too, for that matter. He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll do it.”

  Vic warned, “You’ll be busy. I’ve agreed to volunteer at a local farm shelter, and Britt’s already on my case about being away from home so much. This could turn into a big project here, and … well, I appreciate it.”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to help.”

  “Thanks.” Vic turned away and strode back to the farrowing pen. “Fletch has agreed to volunteer his time to give vaccines and take blood draws, if that will help.”

  Matt grabbed Fletch’s arm. “You’d do that?”

  Fletch nodded. “Sure. I told you I’d do what I could to make the Landis hogs happy.”

  Will Landis gave a huge sigh, and Fletch wasn’t sure if it was from relief or dread of what the future had to hold for all of them. “Guess you know about our struggles here. We thank you. And for the discount, too.”

  Fletch wished he could do more. As they continued to discuss the Landis hogs, he got an inkling of the emotional turmoil this job would entail. With clients treated like family, their pain was felt as one’s own. Just the other night, he’d been feeling sorry for himself, engulfed in his personal loneliness. Getting close to people carried a price. Now he shared their fears.

  After further examination of the sow and disinfecting again at the barn’s entrance, Fletch and Vic took their leave.


  “See you at church,” Fletch called, while sneaking a peek toward the house. Lillian’s car was there, but he hadn’t caught a glimpse of her.

  “You bet. Thanks again,” Matt replied.

  On their way back to the practice, they discussed the Landis hogs some more, and then fell quiet, content to watch the landscape of green cornfields and soybeans. When Fletch saw Vic’s eyelids drooping heavily with sleep, he started up another conversation, hoping to keep them out of the ditch.

  “What can you tell me about the shelter?”

  Vic sent him a startled look. “I thought you knew all about it.”

  “Not really. Marshall mentioned it the last time we talked on the phone. I meant to ask you about it before.”

  The truck bounced over a pothole, causing Vic’s hands to bounce off the steering wheel. He tightened his grip. “It’s in rural Plain City. Just getting started, actually. It takes in abused or abandoned farm animals and lets them stay for the remainder of their lives. The place is operated solely on contributions and volunteers. They work with a multitude of institutions. For instance, their summer volunteers can earn credits towards certain degrees. Right now they have two other vets on call. I’m offering more of a routine rounds type of service. I think they’ll take whatever they can get.”

  “What’s their purpose or function besides animal rescue? Surely they can’t afford to just keep accumulating animals?”

  “I don’t know that I can answer all your questions, but I think they get endorsements from certain vegetarian food companies and activist groups that want to introduce certain animal protection laws. Usually, activist groups don’t deal with people like me who endorse vaccinations and antibiotics. But Marshall claims they need all the help they can get.”

  “His son Marcus is heading it up. He’s a friend, but I haven’t seen him in a long while.”

  Vic’s eyes lit up. “Maybe I can pawn the routine stuff off on you. You can catch up on old times.”

  Fletch grinned.

  Thank the Lord, when the callers came, it was one of Mom’s good days. Lil had set up the ironing board in the dining room so she could keep an eye on her mom and intervene if necessary. From her vantage point, she could hear the ensuing conversation between Marie Yoder, Anita Weaver, and Mom.

  “We’ve missed you at church,” Marie said.

  “I haven’t been feeling well.” Mom used a diversion tactic with which Lil was altogether familiar. “How are the newlyweds?”

  Mom was an expert at avoiding important matters by placing emphasis on the little things. Like the time that Lil asked her if she could get her driver’s license, and Mom had shoved an envelope in her hand, telling her to run to the mailbox or they would miss the mailman. Or the time Matt wanted to purchase a high school lettermen’s jacket, and her mom had marched him off with a spiel about making them proud by finding his pole and catching a stringer of trout for their supper.

  Lil set down the hissing iron, wondering what Marie had to say about Katy and Jake.

  “Doing well. In love and happy,” Marie replied. “The wedding cake was so lovely. You did such a good job.”

  Aha. Marie was quick, directing the conversation back to her friend.

  “Thanks, and Megan? Have you heard from her?” Mom asked.

  “No, but she gets home this weekend. I’ll be glad when she’s back in the country,” replied Anita Weaver.

  The room grew quiet for a spell. Then Anita said, “Rose, we came with an ulterior motive today.”

  “Oh?”

  “We need your help. The church is having a fund-raiser, and we need someone with experience to head up the food.”

  “What kind of event?” Mom asked.

  Lil picked up a white blouse and smoothed out the yoke, wondering if her mom was considering helping or just being polite. Or maybe she just felt out of touch and was curious about the event.

  “It’s an auction. There will be food and quilts sold, and a few used items that folks donate. It’s to go toward the cost of the new Sunday school rooms.”

  “I wish I was up to it. I owe it to the church.”

  “What do you mean?” Anita asked.

  “You know that I’m the one who caused the fire. And now they need money to rebuild.”

  “You are not responsible for that!” Marie scolded. “It was a combination of things.”

  “But you weren’t there. You were home sick with a cold that night. How would you know?” Mom demanded.

  “Because Vernon is on the elders’ committee.”

  “That’s right,” Anita vouched.

  Lil set the iron upright and strained to catch every word. Had these women—who were as close to her as second mothers—come to persuade Mom to repent? The idea made Lil burn with resentment.

  “It was old wiring. And then the punch bowl accident.”

  “And the paper towels fell against the coffeepot.”

  “Those contraptions catch on fire all the time. You are not to blame. Is that what this is all about, your quitting the hostess committee?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Help us to understand,” Anita urged.

  “That committee was my life. The one place I shined. And I failed. And now nothing else matters.”

  “Nonsense,” Marie argued.

  Although relieved they hadn’t brought up the elders’ notion of repentance, what had just been revealed to Lil pierced her heart. She now understood the reason behind her mom’s depression. And she felt her mom’s pain. Because it was the same for Lil.

  Lil’s life was ordinary except for her hopes of becoming head chef, becoming known for beautiful presentations and perfection of flavor. She dreamed of writing a bestselling recipe book. But she’d never known until now that her mom felt the same way about her job on the hostess committee. Lil wanted to cry. Her mom had failed at the one thing that brought her joy and purpose.

  “That’s just it,” Marie argued. “The hostess committee needs you. Your church family misses you. We need you.”

  “But it doesn’t matter anymore. It will never be the same for me. You know why. I’m sure everybody knows by now.”

  Lil held her breath. As far as she knew, her father had not told her mom about the preacher’s second visit. She hoped it did not come up in the ongoing conversation.

  “We are not here to judge you. We love you. How do you know until you try it again?”

  Lil exhaled with relief.

  “I just know,” Mom replied.

  “I don’t suppose you’d want to try your hand at quilting?” Anita asked. “Those bring the most money.”

  Lil could feel the resignation in Mom’s voice. “No. I’m too tired and too old to learn something new. I’m too tired to do the things I used to do.”

  “Over at Plain City Druggist, they sell some herbs that pep folks up. Why don’t you give those a try?” Marie urged.

  Lil determined then that, whether her mom was able to pull out of her depression or not, she wouldn’t end up like her. Lil would accomplish her dreams. She would find that happiness if she had to claw her way to the top. Because if she didn’t, she might end up just like her mom—passing her days doing dead-end chores on a hog farm.

  CHAPTER 9

  After Mrs. Yoder and Mrs. Weaver left, Lil struggled with anxiety and churning emotions for the remainder of the afternoon. She felt like she had swallowed Scott’s entire ant farm. Her parents had problems that she couldn’t resolve, but worse, their problems were keeping her from reaching her own happiness. She should be working more hours instead of getting fired. She needed to find another job.

  When she couldn’t stand the emotional upheaval any longer, she fled the house for her favorite spot of refuge. As a little girl, she’d spent hours in the back pasture’s cottonwood, watching its fluffy wisps burst from their capsules and float up into the air. The robins would snatch the cottony substance midair and fly away to line their nests with it. When life was easier, she would
stretch out on the grass and watch the triangular leaves sparkle as they fluttered in the slightest of breezes.

  Her brothers had put up a swing the summer she turned ten, inspired by the circus and church camp. She used to pretend she was a circus performer. The old swing was still there, but she didn’t fit into it nearly as well as she had as a child. She came less frequently now. She clutched the frazzled rope and looked over the grassy field.

  It was overgrown. Her dad moved their hogs from pasture to pasture, and this one had been vacant long enough for wildflowers to mature and bloom, creating a charming patch of nature at its wildest.

  It had been months since she’d touched the splintery board seat. As soon as she rested on it, she felt as if she’d come home—to a place where truth resided, where God used to come to meet her and touch her soul. Here many dreams had been birthed and many sins had been confessed and forgiven. She felt a shudder rake over her shoulders, thinking about Mom’s predicament. And when had she grown so far from God? Lil covered her face with her hands and allowed her sorrow to manifest itself before she sought divine intervention, before she even knew how to pray.

  “Lillian?”

  She jerked up her head with a gasp, Fletch’s voice sending a tremor down her spine. Quickly swiping an arm across her face, she caused the swing to swivel awkwardly. She used her feet to stop its movement. “Hi.” Her thoughts scattered. Now he thinks I’m crazy. Just like Mom’s performance at dinner the other night. Of course Lil shouldn’t have entertained any hopes for this man anyway. He wouldn’t want a Conservative girl when he could date some cute girl in jeans and toenail polish.

  Fletch removed his red ball cap and slapped it across his jeans. “Sorry to intrude.”

  “I didn’t think anyone was around.”

  “I came here because Matt mentioned it might make a good place for the lagoon.”

  “You’re kidding,” she snapped. She didn’t want to lose her paradise hideaway. “This is the prettiest place on the farm. Surely it’s not going to be ruined?”

  “I don’t know. I had to come out to that pasture”—he pointed off to Lil’s left—“to check on some hogs. While I was this close, I came to see what it’s like. I didn’t mean to barge in on a private moment.”