Plain City Bridesmaids

by Dianne Christner

  They burst into laughter as the chauffer struggled to get everything back in order.

  “How did they manage that?” Fletch asked.

  “I saw Hank talking to the driver.”

  “Ah, the diversion tactic.”

  As the limo eased into the street and left the church behind, they relaxed into the plush seating.

  Lil squeezed his hand. “That was amazing.”

  “You’re amazing. I have a gift for you.” Fletch leaned forward and reached under the seat. He placed the gift box on her satin skirt.

  She bit her bottom lip. “But I don’t have anything for you.”

  He touched those lips. “Oh, but you do, and I can’t wait to—”

  She gave him a playful shove. “Shush. The driver might hear us.”

  “He can’t. The sliding window is closed.”

  She gingerly untied the ribbons. The box had a lid, and she removed it. “For me?” Grinning, she pulled out a pair of red tennis shoes, almost a perfect match for the ones he owned. Those had become a commonplace sight in the Landis mudroom over the past couple of months. “I love them!” Then she noticed what he had attached to one of the shoestrings. “What’s this?”

  Fletch helped her remove it then held the golden circle between his fingers. “It’s your wedding band.” He knew that Conservative Mennonites didn’t wear rings. Some people in the church they now attended did. He watched her eyes soften. “You don’t have to wear it, but I wanted you to have one. I didn’t want to offend anyone who might be attending the wedding.”

  “That’s so thoughtful.”

  “I hope it’s not too plain.” He searched her expression hopefully.

  “How could it be plain? When it belongs to you?”

  LIL’S RECIPE JOURNAL

  THREE BEAN SALAD

  ¾ cup red wine vinegar

  ¾ cup sugar

  ¾ cup vegetable oil

  Dash dry mustard

  ½ teaspoon dried tarragon

  1½ teaspoons dried cilantro

  1 (16 ounce) can green beans, drained

  1 (16 ounce) can garbanzo beans, drained

  1 (16 ounce) can kidney beans, rinsed and drained

  1 red onion, diced

  1 red bell pepper, chopped

  In small saucepan or microwave heat vinegar, sugar, oil, and seasonings until sugar dissolves. Pour over remaining ingredients. Stir and chill.

  LIL’S SUMMER CHILI

  1 pound ground pork

  1 onion, diced

  1 green bell pepper, chopped

  2 teaspoons chili powder

  2 cloves garlic, pressed

  1 teaspoon pepper

  5 cups diced tomatoes

  2 (16 ounce) cans kidney beans (or any other kind)

  ½ cup water

  ¼ cup chopped cilantro

  1 cup corn

  Brown pork, onion, and pepper together. Drain off fat. Mix in all other ingredients and simmer for at least a half hour. May serve cold.

  ZUCCHINI RELISH

  10 cups chopped, unpeeled zucchini

  4 cups chopped onions

  5 tablespoons salt

  2¼ cups cider vinegar

  5 cups sugar

  ½ teaspoon pepper

  2 teaspoons celery seed

  ¾ tablespoon nutmeg

  ¾ tablespoon turmeric

  1 tablespoon dry mustard

  1 tablespoon cornstarch

  1 green bell pepper, chopped

  1 red bell pepper, chopped

  Mix together zucchini, onions, and salt, and let stand overnight. Rinse and drain.

  Place vinegar and sugar in large pot. Stir in pepper, celery seed, nutmeg, turmeric, dry mustard, and cornstarch. Bring to boil. Remove from heat and add drained zucchini mixture and peppers. Return to heat and simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally for 30 minutes. Pour into canning jars. Cover with lids and rings according to manufacturer’s instructions. Process in hot water bath according to recommendations of local extension service.

  CHOCOLATE ZUCCHINI CAKE

  2 cups flour

  1 cup sugar

  ¾ cup unsweetened cocoa powder

  2 teaspoons baking soda

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  ½ teaspoon salt

  1 teaspoon cinnamon

  4 eggs

  ¾ cup vegetable oil

  ¾ cup applesauce

  3 cups grated zucchini

  ½ cup walnuts, chopped

  ½ cup chocolate chips

  Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour a 9 x 13 oblong pan.

  In large bowl, mix together dry ingredients. Stir in eggs, oil, and applesauce. Mix well. Fold in zucchini, walnuts, and chocolate chips. Pour into baking pan. Bake 50 to 60 minutes. Frost with favorite frosting or dust with powdered sugar.

  VEAL AND SPINACH RAVIOLI

  1½ pounds veal

  1 onion, diced

  3 cloves garlic

  2 tablespoons butter

  1 teaspoon salt

  ½ teaspoon pepper

  1 cup dry white wine (ginger ale can be substituted)

  1½ cups beef broth

  6 ounces Parmesan cheese, grated

  2 eggs

  4 ounces fresh spinach, chopped

  40 pasta squares

  1 egg white

  Grind veal, onion, and garlic. Brown in butter. Add seasonings and wine. Sauté until dry. Add beef broth and simmer until dry. Cool. Add Parmesan, eggs, and spinach. Mix well. Coat pasta squares with egg white, fill and fold. Seal. Boil ravioli for 7 minutes. Serve with Lil’s special sauce.

  LIL’S SPECIAL SAUCE

  ½ cup mushrooms

  6 tablespoons butter

  4 cloves garlic, pressed

  1 cup grated Parmesan cheese

  1 teaspoon basil

  2 cups heavy cream or to taste

  Sauté mushrooms in butter. Add garlic, cheese, and basil. Blend until heated. Stir in cream.

  HERB CHART

  Basil: Meat, pesto, salads, soups, stews, tomato dishes

  Bay leaves: Meats, sauces, soups, stews, vegetables

  Borage: Salads

  Catnip: Tea

  Chervil: Fish, salads, sauces, soups, stuffing

  Chives: Appetizers, cream soups, eggs, garnish, salads

  Coriander: Confections, salads, Asian foods

  Dill: Bread, fish, salads, sauces, vegetables

  Marjoram: Fish, poultry, soups, stews, stuffing, vegetables

  Mint: Beverages, desserts, fish, sauces, soups

  Oregano: Fish, Italian dishes, meats, sauces, soups, vegetables

  Parsley: Garnishes, sauces, soups, stews

  Rosemary: Casseroles, fish, salads, soups, vegetables

  Sage: Fish, meat, poultry, soups, stuffing

  Savory: Poultry, meat, salads, sauces, soups, stuffing, vegetables

  Tarragon: Eggs, meats, poultry, salads, sauces, tomatoes

  Thyme: Fish, meats, poultry, stews, stuffing, tomato dishes

  SOMETHING

  BLUE

  DEDICATION

  Many things I love are blue:

  beach vacations, sunny skies, faded jeans, my computer background, and the color of my husband’s eyes.

  Happy fortieth anniversary, sweetheart!

  CHAPTER 1

  Brother Eli Troyer groaned and clutched a hand over his heart. The fast, strange sensations escalated as he weeded his wife’s vegetable patch. But it wasn’t the first time this had happened. Always before, the frightening condition went away on its own. If he told his wife, Barbara, she’d shoo him off to the doctor. He was long overdue for any kind of medical checkup.

  He groped for the blue handkerchief in his pocket and mopped his damp brow. He glanced up at the June sun then replaced his straw hat. There were more important things to do than go see a doctor. He couldn’t let up when he needed to visit folks who were actually sick. It took time to plan his sermons. Preaching and residing over his little Conservative
Mennonite flock was a full-time responsibility, almost becoming too much for him as his energy waned. Why, he would be seventy on his next birthday.

  He slowly bent for his red-handled hoe and continued to work his way down a garden row of bushy green beans, fighting against his increasing exhaustion. But he’d promised Barbara that he’d finish the weeding before she returned from her outing, with two other sisters from the congregation, to the discount fabric store in Columbus. Those sisters made up the core of the quilting group, and Barbara was going with them to show her support for their latest project.

  Less than ten minutes passed, and he heard the sweet gurgling whistle of a bluebird. He paused to gaze up into the nearby evergreen. Barbara had suggested he put up one of those nesting houses on a pole this spring, the kind that attracted bluebirds. But he hadn’t gotten it accomplished. Probably too late for occupancy this year, he decided with regret. The bluebirds would stay around anyway, at least until the blueberries ripened later in the summer. Barbara always planted sunflowers for the birds. And she already had several birdhouses strewn around the yard. She had been a good helpmeet to him over the years, and he now wished he had made that birdhouse for her this spring.

  The chest pain returned, harder than before. Maybe it was stress. The last couple of years had taken a toll on him, with some younger members of the congregation pushing for changes. Such notions filled their heads these days. The latest upheaval ended with the men and women sitting together during services. That came after years of segregated seating. He shook his head. Before that, they’d changed the ordinance on the women’s prayer covering, allowing women to make up their own minds whether they wore them outside of prayer and worship. But changing the ordinance had kept the congregation from splitting. Thanks be to God for that. He knew it was part of his job to try and understand the younger generation. Sometimes that was hard because he and Barbara had never had any children of their own.

  Feeling lightheaded, he decided to call it a day, put away the tools, and head for the house for some of Barbara’s homemade lemonade. He started toward the tool shed but only got a few steps when an immobilizing pain seized the center of his chest. He reeled forward, his palms and knees slamming, then sank down to the rich garden soil. Panting, he clutched his heart. What was this? Surely he wasn’t having an actual heart attack?

  With no one home to help, he wasn’t sure if he could make it to the house to use the phone. He crawled a short ways, but the pain was unbearable, making it impossible to draw a breath. He clutched his heart again, realizing his life was in the Lord’s hands.

  As the painful attack increased, he curled up on his right side, his right hand clawing the soil and dirtying his fingernails. A sudden gust of wind blew off his straw hat, and it tumbled down the garden row and caught on a green bean bush, leaving Brother Troyer’s balding head and face exposed to the sun.

  Just before the preacher blacked out, he thought, I’m dying. And I’ve left a few things undone. He had no real regrets where his wife was concerned, other than the shock and pain it would cause Barbara to find him this way. But it was a church matter that bothered him most. Had been bothering him for some time. “I shouldn’t have put off talking to widow Schlagel. I should have dealt with that.” He tried to pray, but his thoughts convoluted, and he forgot all about widow Schlagel, sensing something faint, sweet, and wonderful drawing him. His fingers relaxed in the dirt, and he closed his eyes for the last time on earth.

  “Glory be!” Megan Weaver’s black oxfords pitter-pattered lightly across the firm’s ceramic tile flooring. She sometimes left off the to God in her exclamations, because the rest of the staff at Char Air all knew whom she praised for all the good things that came into her life. Only a few of the employees of the small company she worked for shared her Christian—though not Mennonite—sentiments. She came to a halt and waved a photograph before the face of a middle-aged brunette woman in a beige suit. “Look at this, Paige.”

  The manager of finance looked up from her computer screen and squinted through her new bifocal contact lenses. “What is it?”

  “Remember those bicycles the company flew to Haiti last month? This came with a letter from a missionary near Port-au-Prince. It’s a girl with a clubfoot posing with her new bike. This letter says she lives in a remote village and has been walking over two miles to school. Now she can ride a bicycle.” Megan studied the girl in the photo. “Isn’t that an amazing story? Can you use it in our newsletter?”

  “Sure. It’s perfect. Thanks.” The woman who was in charge of recruiting donations stood up from her desk, which was surrounded on three sides with sleek, chrome-and-gray partitions. Paige stretched then examined the photograph and letter. “I love it. These stories never get old, do they?” She blinked profusely and scanned the letter while Megan pushed a stray blond hair back beneath her prayer covering and waited. Paige placed the items on her file-cluttered desk. “You’ve sure been busy today.”

  Megan briefly rested her hands on the waist of her midi-length skirt. “That’s because Randy is trying to get caught up before he leaves.” As Randy Campbell’s assistant, Megan had been careful never to discuss the particulars of her boss’s delicate situation with others in the office. Yet everybody knew that the president of Char Air was taking a two-month leave of absence to spend time with his wife in a scrambled effort to save his marriage. Whispered rumors, along with the few details Randy had supplied Megan, led her to believe that his wife would have good cause to leave him but was allowing him one last chance to persuade her to stay.

  Paige poked at the watery corner of her left eye. “I hear his brother, Chance, is going to fill in for him. Now he’s a feast for the eyes. Too bad I’m happily married.”

  “I’ve never met him.” Good looking? When she’d first started her job, it had been hard to keep her mind pure while working so close to her handsome, married boss. If his brother looked anything like him, Megan would be spending a lot of time staring at the floor and praying for guidance. As it was, she had already memorized the office floor’s herringbone pattern. But now her gaze was on Paige. “I see you’re having trouble adjusting to your new contacts. Is it painful?”

  “Just bothersome. I’m giving it the rest of the week before I break down and wear my old frames.”

  Megan nodded, disappointed at Paige’s obsession with outward appearance. The other woman was always trying something to beautify herself. Although friendly, Paige wasn’t open to any of Megan’s advice on that topic. It was obvious from past discussions, Paige considered Megan, with her plain garb and cosmetic-free skin, inept in topics pertaining to fashion and style.

  Paige purposefully drew her hand away from her face and straightened her pencil skirt. “He used to work here. He’s a pilot, you know. But he’s been overseas.”

  “Really? Doing what?”

  “He’s a missionary pilot.”

  Megan’s interest piqued as her heart sank. This made the newcomer all the more fascinating. She glanced out the glass wall and watched a flight line technician walk from the company hangar toward a Learjet that was going to transport a local sports team to Atlanta. “Sounds like a nice man.” However, she knew that if he was Randy’s brother, he was not a Mennonite man. That meant, romantically speaking, she needed to keep up her guard.

  Her friend Katy had repeatedly pointed out that working for outsiders was treading a slippery slope. But Megan found her job interesting. If Randy took away her meager paycheck, she’d probably work for free. Not that her job was easy or undemanding. It entailed plenty of patience, making phone calls to smooth over problems with dissatisfied customers, and the constant struggle to find and keep volunteers for the nonprofit flights. Even keeping her hyperactive boss on schedule wasn’t a simple task.

  “Randy’s convinced that Chance can do the job, but I have a hunch our lives won’t get any easier the next couple of months.” Megan sighed. “But we’ll make do.”

  “I love your attitude.” Paige turn
ed toward her cubby. “If you do get any free time, you can help me.”

  “I thought that’s what I just did.”

  “Oh yeah. Thanks for the photo. And the story.”

  Megan smiled and went to her desk, a modern cubical identical to Paige’s, only located adjacent to Randy’s plush, private office. She settled into her wheeled, black leather chair, both anticipating and dreading the arrival of her handsome, temporary boss. Of all things, Chance Campbell was a missionary pilot. Aye, yi, yi.

  Megan entered her mom’s kitchen and donned a blue-striped ticking apron while following a sweet aroma to the black iron kettle, where Mom prepared their first batch of garden sweet corn. Megan’s mouth watered. She loved summer nights when their meals consisted entirely of fresh garden vegetables and large slabs of warm, homemade bread and melting butter.

  “I’ll do the vegetables.”

  “Slice tomatoes and cucumbers. We’re eating early. Your dad has an elders meeting tonight.”

  “Good because I’m starved. I only had time to eat half my lunch.”

  She warmed under Mom’s approving gaze. Mom placed much stock in hard work, as evidenced by her tidy home and neat garden. But she didn’t understand what Megan’s job really entailed. Lenient as her parents were, it was probably better that way. She didn’t want to worry them about the modern technology and worldly coworkers who surrounded her on a daily basis. Working at Char Air was Megan’s first real job since graduating from Rosedale Bible College. Although it might seem like a strange job for a Conservative Mennonite woman, it was the connection with missionary and charity flights that had drawn her. Service and ministry jobs had always sparked her interest.

  The house phone rang. Mom wiped her hands and rushed toward the counter. “Hello?”

  Megan glanced over, curious, and froze at her mom’s growing expression of alarm.

  “Oh no. Oh no,” Mom repeated, then quietly listened while snatching up a tissue from a blue-flowered box and blotting her eyes with it.