Plain City Bridesmaids

by Dianne Christner

  “I don’t think so, but then her hearing is extraordinarily sharp.”

  Micah watched the tender scene transpiring across the parking lot, how Megan gave Katy a friendly hug and then lifted baby Jacob into her arms. It caused a bittersweet pang, knowing that Megan would make a wonderful mother.

  “Brother Micah?”

  He quickly tore his gaze away from Megan and rested it on the pretty brunette woman facing him. “Yes, Lori?”

  “I believe that resurrecting the picnic and ballgame was the perfect thing for the congregation. How do you do it? Always anticipate the needs?”

  “I sense a but coming next.”

  She smiled. “See what I mean?”

  He waited, curiously. Lori had been helping him with research for his sermons. He no longer worried about her stepping out of line. She was easygoing, and in working with her, he’d learned that her advice was usually timely and valuable. It was too bad her perfume always tickled his nose.

  “There’s a cold bug going around and a few families traveling to family reunions. I overheard some men scheming to snap up the better players upon their return. There’s some competition brewing. And I was just wondering if you were going to let them get away with that?”

  “I can tell that you have a different idea.”

  “I do.” She urged him closer with her finger. “I think I can help.”

  He leaned close, strangely intrigued.

  The following Sunday, Megan slid into the pew next to her mom and watched Micah deliver a sermon on peace, another fruit of the Spirit. She jotted down a few notes but often found her mind detouring, fixed on the way his jaw hardened when he stressed a point. It was his tendency in the next breath to soften his jaw by allowing his lower lip to droop into a bit of a smile. She knew him well enough to recognize it as one of his pleading smiles. Often he admitted his own shortcomings to the congregation. But his humility only made him more loveable.

  She crossed her arms and wished his smile wasn’t the last thing she thought about before she fell asleep at night. She’d tried to tell herself that she was only attracted to him because he was a preacher, just like she had been attracted to Chance because he was a missionary pilot. After all, weren’t God’s men the most appealing?

  But it wasn’t his occupation at all. He’d wiggled his way into her heart, little by little, revealing his true nature. And now when she looked at him, that’s what she saw, not the gawky outer shell she remembered from Rosedale. His physique had become pleasing as well. Now her competition was plentiful.

  She uncrossed her arms, took a tissue from her purse, and blotted her forehead. Maybe this fascination with him was the result of reading her grandparents’ love letters every night before she drifted off to sleep: “To love another person is to see the face of God”—Victor Hugo. What better way to describe what she felt for Micah?

  He sneezed twice, drawing her from her private thoughts. “Anyone wishing to play softball who wasn’t here last week when we designated teams can draw his team placement from a jar in the library. Lori Longacre will monitor the drawings after the service and each week until the event.

  Megan frowned at the affectionate look he shot Lori.

  “In fact, I’m headed there to draw a team for myself after the Doxology. This way the teams will be formed in a fair manner, even if they end up lopsided, for I’m sure the team who gets me will be at a disadvantage.”

  There were a few chuckles. Hardly a disadvantage, Megan thought, remembering how he’d hit a home run the day they’d played at the doddy house. Micah went on to stress that this was first and foremost a friendly competition.

  Suddenly Megan felt the forewarning tickle of a sneeze. She brought her tissue up to press under her nose, hoping to ward off her irritating connection to Micah. When she felt it was safe, she lowered her hand, and her gaze involuntarily followed those of the majority of the congregation’s to Lori Longacre’s pew. It shocked Megan to see the woman’s undisguised admiration directed straight ahead toward the pulpit.

  Clearly, Lori and Micah had conspired to come up with that plan. It tugged painfully at Megan’s heart to imagine him going elsewhere for advice. She’d recognized the admiration they shared for each other from the beginning. She certainly wouldn’t go anywhere near the library after the service. Let them have their fling!

  After that day, Megan intentionally kept out of Micah’s way. As if in unspoken agreement, he followed suit, accepting more food offerings, keeping to his cottage most evenings. If her parents noticed a change, they didn’t comment to her about it.

  Megan’s workload lightened. One noon she dashed over to Volo Italiano. Two men standing beside a silver SUV eyed her Nova as it rumbled into the parking lot, and she felt their gaze follow her all the way into the restaurant. Inside it seemed busier than usual.

  Lil darted around a corner. “Just a minute!”

  “Sure.” Megan turned to the hostess. “Seems busy today.”

  “A conference. Bunch of engineers.”

  “Think Lil’s too busy for me?”

  “I doubt it. They made reservations, and we increased our staff today.”

  Lil strode up, tucking some straying hairs back into their pins. “Sorry about that.”

  “Just when I get a break, you’re busier than normal.”

  Lil brushed a hand through the air. “The worst is over; it’s mostly some stragglers left. I was glad when you called. So Randy’s off your case now?”

  “He’s eased up. But work’s different. It’s just a job now. You know what I mean?”

  “Sure. The honeymoon’s over.” Megan glanced at Lil to see if her comment was a jab at Fletch, but it didn’t appear to be. Especially when she added, “That’s not always a bad thing.”

  “ ‘There is no remedy for love than to love more.’ ”

  “Huh?”

  “Henry David Thoreau. From my great-grandpa’s love letters.”

  “I like that. I guess you could say there’s no remedy for work than to work more.”

  Megan laughed. “You’re right about that, too. Tina dropped by the office this week. She acted like we were old friends. It’s weird. But at least now I know they’re still together. That’s a good thing.” Megan shrugged. “Did your family tell you Big Darby’s having their annual picnic and softball game?”

  “Yeah, Mom mentioned it.”

  “You and Fletch should come. See the old crowd. It’ll be fun. Susanna hopes you’ll bring something scrumptious.”

  “Susanna misses me?” Lil glanced over her shoulder. “Before I go, I’ve been thinking about something. Remember when Fletch and I were dating? We broke up for a few months because he needed time to work things out so he knew what he had to offer me.”

  “I remember. It was a hard time for you.”

  “Maybe that’s what’s going on with Micah. He needs to concentrate on his job now. Some things are worth the waiting. You know, like my veal spinach ravioli.”

  CHAPTER 32

  It rained the night before the Big Darby picnic. By noon the sky remained ominous, but the grassy field at Inez and Leon Beachy’s home had dried somewhat. The congregation held the annual softball game and many other church outings at the Beachys’ farm.

  Years earlier, before the couple’s children had left the vicinity, Leon made a ball diamond with softball dimensions. It became a community gathering place. Leon finally gave up trying to fill in the bare spots. Though weedy, it could easily be resurrected for a game just by mowing the sparse grass lower than normal.

  Inez, a starkly conservative but take-charge woman, knew how to set up for an event. When Megan arrived, several of the women’s black tied shoes had already stomped down the grassy area in and among the folding tables. Megan quickly jumped in to help them with the tablecloths.

  Inez twisted her mouth, placed her hands at her hips, and studied the picnic site. A breeze swirled the hem of her skirt and her covering strings. “This will never do.” She po
inted. “See those small rocks at the base of that tree?” Megan shifted her gaze. Tree roots twisted through an undergrowth of wild ground ivy, but she saw some stones protruding from the tangle. “Those can secure the tablecloths.”

  Susanna lifted her hawkish nose, which presided over her oval face, and sniffed the humid air. “I’m going to make some quilts to use at these events. They’ll be heavy enough that we don’t have to use dirty old stones.”

  “Nonsense! Where do you think our food comes from? The ground.” Inez huffed. “Anyway, they’d get ruined.”

  “It wouldn’t be any different than using white tablecloths.” Susanna lifted the hem of the closest cloth. “You know these have seen their better days. We’d only need four or five at the most.”

  Inez swiped her hand through the air. “I suppose it might work.”

  Megan left the bickering women and washed the stones at a nearby water faucet, making sure to put one at the ends of each table.

  A huge cloud rolled in over the farm, cooling and darkening the air. Susanna shook her auburn head. “This is going to be a disaster.”

  “Maybe so, but the food’s arriving. You head up the dessert table,” Inez instructed the widow. “I’ll arrange the main table, and Rose can handle the drinks.”

  Megan eyed the dessert table regrettably, but followed Rose to the drink table, knowing that when Lil arrived, she’d pitch in and help there. Wooden sawhorses with planks supported crocks of lemonade and iced tea. Coolers were stuffed beneath the tables and emptied of their contents. Side dishes and cold salad arrived in heirloom dishes to fill Inez’s tables. Crowd-sized roasters contained sliced or shredded meats. Susanna hovered over the desserts of fluted, flaky pie crusts baked to perfection.

  Lil arrived carrying homemade bread, and Susanna intercepted Fletch.

  “What do you have there, young man?”

  “Lil’s veal spinach ravioli.”

  The widow lifted the foil and eyed it greedily. Then she pointed. “Take it to Inez. Over there.”

  When Fletch returned, he said, “Hon, I think it cut the mustard. I’m going after our lawn chairs.”

  Megan looked away from the tender exchange and watched guests vying for places to set up their folding chairs. Her gaze took in the bright old quilts strewn across the ground and the sports equipment propped up against rough-barked tree trunks. But the person she’d been longing for was still missing. She scanned the cars that lined the dirt driveway, some all the way out to the weed-fringed, faded barn. The rickety structure still held some old farm antiques, but was mostly used for Leon’s paint business. And then she saw it. Micah’s Honda.

  Quickly scanning the yard again, Megan spotted him with a small cluster of men from the search committee. They were all glancing skyward. Megan looked up, too. Though there had been moments of sunlight, the sky was mostly hidden in fast-moving clouds.

  Lil nudged her. “What’s so interesting?”

  “Nothing.”

  Lil quirked the corner of her mouth. “Right. Hey, there’s Katy. Let’s go over.”

  Megan followed Lil, and they dropped to the quilt where Katy had laid Jacob. “Where’s Jake?”

  “Tossing a ball with Ray Eversole. They’re taking this game way too seriously to suit me.”

  “Really?”

  Katy’s sulky lips thinned. “The men were not happy to be mixed up.”

  Although Micah had gone to everybody but Megan for advice, even after the picnic was her idea, she still came to his defense. “He didn’t know about the tradition. That they already had teams.”

  “I know. But they don’t like change.”

  “Nobody does. But it doesn’t matter who the next preacher is, there’s going to be change. We all knew that.”

  A loud whistle rent the air. Megan looked to her right, and her heart gave a sad twinge. Oblivious to the undercurrent of complaints, Micah’s face was wreathed in enthusiasm. He stood on a stump and waved his hand as the din around them quieted. A few childish squeals broke the silence. Then as parents drew the youngsters, hyped from their first week back at school, to themselves, a reverent hush fell over the group.

  Micah prayed, thanking the Lord for Brother Troyer’s years of service, dedicating the day to his remembrance, and asking for strength for his widow Barbara. There arose a soft murmur of affirmation. Afterward, he told the group to enjoy their meal and fellowship and, Lord and weather willing, they’d assemble for the game around 1:30 p.m. Megan knew he was rushing it a bit, hoping to beat the storm.

  “We’d better get to play,” Ray Eversole shouted out, “I hope I haven’t conditioned the last couple of weeks for nothing.”

  Hoots of laughter came from the men. “What kind of conditioning?” Mark Kraybill asked.

  “I’m not giving away my secrets,” the song leader replied.

  “Better just go and fill your plate. You’ll need your strength,” Mark urged.

  Megan got in line next to Joy Ann. “So what do you have planned for the children?”

  “We’re having some relay races. I bought some pencils and prizes they can use at school.”

  “That was thoughtful.”

  “It was Brother Zimmerman’s idea to get the prizes. I was happy to do it.” She pushed her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. “Ruthie’s helping. And some of the young moms.”

  Somehow Micah had made his peace with Joy Ann, who now took a plate and turned her attention over to her choices. Megan made sure she got some of Lil’s veal spinach ravioli before Susanna cleaned the platter. When they’d lived together in the doddy house, she’d seen firsthand how painstaking the recipe was, with Lil making everything from scratch. She noticed with a bit of glee that her own bean salad was also getting devoured—word must have gotten out that it was Lil’s recipe.

  Megan took her food to join her friends. Their men assembled nearby, and Elizabeth’s little one toddled back and forth between his parents. He took bites and shyly watched the older children who would rather play than eat.

  “Jake got rained out early yesterday, and I ended up doing an extra load of laundry last night to get rid of all the wet clothing. That man can make a mess. But after the baby went down, he surprised me with a new Christian novel. We stayed up late reading it, when we really should have been studying for our Sunday school lesson.”

  “I love hearing Ivan’s perspective on the lesson. You can always study tonight,” Elizabeth said. “Isn’t that what Saturday evenings are for?” “If nobody has a sick animal emergency,” Lil piped up. Then coloring a bit, she quickly added, “I’m not complaining, just saying.”

  Megan couldn’t help but feel left out, getting such vivid imagery of her friends’ married home lives. The three young couples seemed settled in like old shoes, yet she could see by the sparkle in their eyes that there was still plenty of romance in their relationships. The honeymoon wasn’t over, as Lil had insinuated. Micah ate with the Kraybills, while jostling one of their little ones on his knee. He was good with kids. Megan remembered that he had worked with teenagers back in Pennsylvania. She had no doubt about his reading and Bible study abilities.

  Passively listening to the conversation, Megan’s plate emptied first. “I’m going for Mandy Penner’s blackberry pie before it’s all gone.” The young woman worked at the well-known Berry Farm on the Mitchell-Dewitt Road.

  “Could you bring me a piece of blueberry?” Jake called over.

  “Sure.” Megan grinned, amused how the men honed in on their conversation when it involved food. She brushed off her skirt and went to the dessert table. Her gaze went over the rows of glass pie pans, searching for the mouth-watering blackberry. A familiar scent tickled her nose. She froze at the sound of a recognizable male voice. She had been unaware that Lori Longacre and Micah were inching together along the opposite side of the table. How had he moved so quickly from the Kraybills?

  “Those lemon bars have to be yours,” he purred.

  Megan lifted her gaze. Not se
eming to notice her, Micah placed a lemon bar on his plate, his head bent.

  Feeling the heat creep up her neck and scorching her temples, she would have slunk away if she hadn’t promised Jake his pie. She quickly got two clean dessert plates and filled hers with the blackberry and then moved to the blueberry tin.

  “That’s right. I baked some for you when you first arrived. I’m surprised you don’t waddle by now.”

  He had plenty of room on his sharp bones, Megan thought. Even called him Stick Man at Rosedale. Keeping her gaze down, she hurried to get done with the pie and away from the sickening conversation.

  “I don’t waddle. I do worse things. I …”

  Megan’s pie slipped off the spatula. It plunked onto Inez’s starched white tablecloth. “Aye, yi, yi!” She stared at the mess she’d made.

  A masculine hand touched her arm. “Let me help. You hold the plate, and I’ll serve the pie.”

  “What a waste.” Lori dipped her finger in the glob of blueberry and licked it off with pleasure. “I’ll go get something to clean it up before it stains.”

  “I’ll do it,” Megan argued. Tablecloth’s seen its better days anyway, according to Susanna.

  “I don’t mind.”

  In resignation, Megan held the plate, trying to keep her hand from shaking. Micah slid a perfect piece onto Jake’s plate. “Thanks.” She couldn’t help but glance up and was even more distressed to see the crinkling around his eyes. Returning his look with one of low toleration, she hurried back to the refuge of her friendly circle.

  But Micah followed her and lowered himself next to Jake, balancing his plate of Lori’s lemon delights on his knees. “Who’s ready to work off their meal?” he asked the men.

  Megan turned away, so that her back was to the other quilt. She stared at her pie. Her appetite had vanished. Obviously she wasn’t as ready as she had thought to give Micah over to Lori. And even though her eyes couldn’t watch the intruder, her heart felt his presence, and she felt naked and vulnerable as if everyone could interpret what was churning inside her.