Plain City Bridesmaids

by Dianne Christner

  “The date for the vote was set a long time ago.”

  Megan could imagine Susanna’s eyes snapping as she argued, “Yes, but Brother Zimmerman set fall communion for the same night.”

  “We don’t know that. It could’ve been the elders’ idea.”

  “You’re saying you don’t know where the idea came from?”

  “No. But I think it’s a good one. It’ll remind us to search our hearts for sin. And once our hearts are right, God’s will can be done.”

  “That’s puttin’ God in a box. He can do His will with or without communion. Crackers and grape juice won’t make that young man a better preacher all of a sudden.”

  “Susanna!”

  The discussion ended, and Megan eased a peek around the corner. With relief, she saw Susanna moving toward the fellowship hall.

  “She’s bitter.” Lori stated softly.

  Megan turned, thinning her lips in disapproval. “She’s not even hiding it anymore.”

  Lori removed the book from her hands with a grin and shoved it back into place. “Wanna sit together?”

  It was an invitation to do the foot washing ceremony with her. Usually, Megan and Katy were partners, but she knew Katy would understand. “Sure.”

  Communion happened two or more times a year. The procedure had changed somewhat after the congregation sanctioned its integrated seating. Entering the auditorium, a quick glance assured Megan that families were going to sit together for the first part of the service, where they took the cup and bread.

  Lori went to the singles’ pew about halfway up the center aisle, and Megan slid in beside her. Shortly after that, Micah strode past and took his place in front of the congregation. He quietly stood, allowing his gaze to drift across the assembly. It paused on Megan and warmed. He smiled.

  Megan beamed back at him, surprised and thrilled that he’d openly sought her out.

  His gaze dropped from Megan to the Bible that lay open on the podium in front of him.

  Lori hissed, “What was that about?”

  With heat rising up her neck, Megan lowered her voice so Joy and Ruthie wouldn’t hear. “We’re dating.”

  “I see.” Lori’s reproach reverberated her warning, not to rush ahead of God’s timing. “Micah did the asking. He talked to my dad.”

  Lori’s tight-lipped nod ended the conversation. The librarian fastened a stern gaze on Micah.

  He reminded the assembly that communion symbolized the Lord’s sacrifice at the cross, taking their sins upon Himself, so that they might have forgiveness and eternal life. He urged everyone to search their hearts for sin before taking communion. For the folks at Big Darby, it was a solemn, contemplative moment.

  For an ugly instant, Susanna’s remark about crackers and grape juice tormented Megan’s mind. She quickly dispelled it. Felt a nudge at her arm and saw the communion tray. After she partook, she passed it to Lori without making eye contact.

  Afterward, Micah instructed the women to move to the left of the auditorium and men to the right. Ray led the congregation in hymn singing as, row by row, women and men slipped into their respective side rooms.

  Inside the women’s anteroom, the women removed their shoes and stockings and waited barefooted, quietly whispering with each other, until one of the six chairs became available. The actual ritual was done with somberness. The foot-washing practice reflected the Lord’s actions, when He washed His disciples’ feet.

  Lori took a chair, and Megan carefully dipped each of the librarian’s bare feet into a round porcelain basin filled with soapy water then dried them with a fluffy white towel. Afterward she helped Lori stand. They kissed each other on each cheek, saying the blessing: “God’s peace be with you.”

  The ceremony held significance for Megan in many ways. She felt acceptance and healing in her friendship with Lori and a solidarity in their desire for the good of the church and for Micah’s victory.

  When everyone had gathered back in the sanctuary, Micah stepped to the front. “You may take a ten-minute recess, and when you return, the elders will lead you in the voting process.” He gave no parting pep talk but quietly left the podium.

  An air of reverence still filled the sanctuary, and the congregation slowly came to life, milling quietly. Megan and Lori stood with the other singles. From the corner of her eye, Megan saw Barbara huddled with the widows. Above their bent, whispering heads, the clock’s minute hand had only moved two marks since Micah had closed the service.

  Lori nudged her. “He’s coming.”

  She shifted her gaze, and her heart tumbled to see Micah moving toward her, but taking care to greet others along the way. He glanced up at her repeatedly, and she knew he would not be deterred.

  When he reached them, he touched her arm. “Hi, Meg.” Her emotions soared giddily to see his unveiled admiration and to hear the shortened endearment of her name. His brown eyes also held concern. “All I can think about is your mom’s refrigerator magnet.”

  “Oh?” A mishmash image of her mom’s garage-sale magnets ranging from ceramic flower buttons to die-cut vintage sayings gave her another delightful glimpse into Micah’s complex nature. “Which one?”

  “ ‘Either define the moment, or the moment will define you.’ ”

  “Walt Whitman,” Lori murmured.

  “You have my vote,” Joy Ann said softly, while toeing the hardwood flooring.

  He smiled. “Thanks. That’s good to know.”

  Lori touched Joy Ann’s arm. “I believe my lip balm fell out of my purse in the anteroom. Would you help me go look for it?”

  Joy Ann furrowed her brow. “Now?”

  “Yes. I need it now.”

  Megan tucked her lower lip in her teeth until the two other women moved out of sight. “I know you and Lori make a good team, but the two of us aren’t bad together, either.”

  “I noticed. But I hope you don’t want to follow her footsteps. Whatever you do, don’t switch to her brand of perfume. I love the citrusy scent you wear.”

  She smoothed the side of her upswept hair. His eyes softened as he followed the movement. “Thanks for the bag of candy corn you put in my car.”

  He sucked his bottom lip then grinned. “It was symbolic.”

  “Yes, I got that.” She smiled.

  His jaw slightly tightened. “I’m sorry I did a disappearing act this week.”

  “I understand.”

  He glanced at the clock. “I better go.”

  She touched his arm to detain him. “Can I come with Dad when he brings you the news?”

  “Yes.” He hesitated, his expression contrite. “But I may need time.”

  “I know.”

  CHAPTER 38

  After the communion service, Dad continued the meeting with a short introduction and reminder that only members could vote. The process was simple. He asked those who affirmed Micah as preacher to stand.

  Megan hurried to her feet. Beside her, Lori also stood. The entire singles’ pew affirmed Micah. Two elders counted heads from the front of the room, allowing Megan just enough time to quickly scan the auditorium. She tried to get a general feel for the vote without honing in on individuals, lest she develop hard feelings toward those who remained seated. Susanna’s row was behind her, out of her view, but she thought that Micah had the majority of votes.

  “Be seated. Those opposed, please stand.”

  As skirts rustled, Megan wished she’d asked Micah what percentage he required to accept the calling. Some preachers required 100 percent, not wanting to take a position where there might be a rift. She kneaded her hands, remembering the church was requiring 80 percent in favor to extend the invitation. Would that be enough for Micah? She was sure the vote would not be unanimous.

  “Thank you. Be seated.” Dad turned to confer with the other elders, then returned to the podium.

  Her dad’s words had never held more significance for Megan. And then she saw the smile in his eyes and sank with relief. “He got it,” Megan whisp
ered.

  “What?” Lori’s hand clutched Megan’s arm.

  “The vote is positive,” Megan’s dad announced. “Big Darby Conservative Mennonite will be offering Micah Zimmerman a permanent ministerial position. We’ll ask him to give us his answer next Sunday from the pulpit. You’re dismissed. Go in peace.”

  Megan stood and squeezed Lori’s hand. They knew better than to make a display of their emotions for the sake of the people who had not voted for Micah.

  “Now it’s up to Micah,” Lori said. “Please do what you can to convince him to stay.”

  “He asked me to trust him.”

  “Just do your best.”

  Megan moved in a daze for the door, anxious to see the matter through, to get home to Micah. An arm snatched her in the foyer. She turned, and Barbara leaned close to her ear. “You take good care of my hydrangea bush. You hear?”

  “Don’t put the cart in front of the horse.”

  “And don’t topple the cart.”

  Shaking her head with amusement, Megan stepped out into the brisk September evening.

  “Megan.”

  She turned. “Mom. Where’s Dad?”

  “Still talking to the elders. Let your dad be the one to tell him.”

  “I will, but try to hurry him along. Don’t let him be the last one to leave again.”

  “I’ll do my best. Put on the coffeepot when you get home.” She leaned closer. “This calls for a celebration.”

  They exchanged a victorious look; then Megan started toward her car. She’d only gone a few steps when Katy intercepted her. They spoke briefly and parted. She was halfway across the parking lot when she saw Susanna sitting inside her car. Mixed emotions rushed over Megan, resentment and triumph followed by guilt.

  The woman looked rigid as a stone statue, and Megan wondered if something was wrong besides the outcome of the vote. Megan struggled with her conscience then veered to the left where her feet did not want to go. Even as she approached the widow’s car, Susanna didn’t notice her. She didn’t move. Megan rapped lightly on her car window.

  The widow jerked, raked a glance over Megan, then rolled the window. “What do you want?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “No. I’m not.” Susanna gripped the steering wheel and lowered her forehead to the top of the steering wheel.

  “Can I help? Drive you home?”

  Susanna shook her head then lifted her gaze to Megan. “Just go home to your preacher. Someday you’ll understand.”

  Megan sighed. “Susanna.”

  But the widow was done talking. She put her car in REVERSE.

  Megan stepped away. For the first time, she felt pity for the widow.

  Micah had been waiting in his cottage for over an hour. And after the previous week’s seclusion, he was good and sick of it. He knew there was fellowship and driving time involved, but he’d hoped Bill would make an effort to bring him the results in a prompt manner. Megan’s car had arrived at least twenty minutes earlier. She was doing the right thing by letting her father bring the news, but the waiting was almost more than he could bear.

  He stationed himself next to the window. Even Miss Purrty paced and switched her tail. Finally the Weavers pulled into the driveway. And then they went inside the house! Micah sighed. Stood and paced, stepping on the cat. She yowled and leaped into her crate. He started after her, but then he heard the fervent rap at his door.

  Diving for it, he swung the door open. He gave Bill a sheepish smile and gestured the Weavers into his apartment. From another world, Micah felt the cat’s motor as it wove in and out of his legs.

  The older man’s eyes brightened, and he offered a congratulatory handshake. “Big Darby wants you.”

  Micah blew out a deep sigh and relaxed his shoulders. “That’s good news.”

  Megan rushed to hug him. “Congratulations, Micah.”

  He rested his chin on top of her head, closed his eyes, and drank in the promise of love and a glorious future. There was a joyous flash of Sunday sermons, baptisms, communions, and softball picnics until he felt Megan’s gentle pat on his back. Reluctantly, he released her.

  Anita hugged him next. “Come in for coffee. We have to celebrate.”

  He nodded and choked, “I’ll be right in.”

  As soon as they left, he sank to his knees where he’d already worn a fuzzy spot in the rug and leaned his head against the tiny bed. When he had control of his emotions, he rose with thanksgiving still on his lips. He stroked the cat. “Stay.”

  Inside the Weavers’ home, his first clue that something wasn’t entirely right was when Bill said, “I told them you’d give your answer next Sunday over the pulpit.”

  Disappointment settled over him like a familiar companion, but he bit his tongue until Anita finished serving the coffee and joined them at the table. “What was the vote? The percentage?”

  Bill fiddled with his cup. “It was eighty-three. But given the timing, you can have every hope that a few years down the road, you’ll have one hundred percent support. Change takes time. We talked about that.”

  Micah nodded. “I know. But I had a number in mind. It was a lot higher than yours.”

  Megan’s face paled. Her eyes searched him over the rim of her cup. She gave a trembling smile.

  He looked at Anita. Tears had sprung to her eyes, and he knew why. She didn’t want her only child to move away from Plain City.

  Bill gave him a forced smile. “You have all week to decide. The elders and search committee are unanimous. They want you. You have to keep in mind that it’s a small congregation. That’s why the margin is so big.”

  “I know.”

  Anita cleared her throat. “There’s a pumpkin in the garden that’s bound to be a prize winner. Have you seen it?”

  Micah swiveled his gaze in confusion then caught the glint in her eyes.

  “No. But may I take your daughter and check it out?”

  Anita nodded. “It’s getting dark, but there’s a flashlight in the junk drawer.”

  Megan pushed back her chair and went to the drawer.

  Micah stood and faced Bill. “Thanks for the news. As soon as I have an answer, this family will be the first to know.”

  The atmosphere was hardly celebrative. Megan followed him out the door. Without speaking, his left hand sought hers, and his right flicked on the flashlight. Its beam zigzagged across the yard but did little to lift the descending gloom.

  Megan broke the awkward silence. “So what happens next?”

  “I thought God and I had a number in mind. But the last couple of weeks, my thinking’s changed.” He knew what needed to be done. He just didn’t know if Megan would support his decision.

  Megan walked beside Micah. Her heart leapt with joy at his words: “I thought God and I had a number in mind. But the last couple of weeks, my thinking’s changed.” Surely he was referring to their growing relationship. He was going to change his plans for her.

  “It’s not so much the number, anymore. I’m not staying unless I can win Susanna’s vote.”

  “What?” She stopped walking and shrugged away. “But that will never happen!”

  He flicked off the light and stuffed it in his back pocket, then took both her hands. “I have to try.”

  “But you only have a week. You’d need a miracle.”

  He caressed her hands. “I know. You still trust me with our future?”

  Her mind exploded in possible scenarios of what such a trust might entail. They’d only had one date. She couldn’t run off with him. “Are you staying here if you don’t take the job?”

  “Let’s take this one step at a time.”

  That sounded too much like Chance’s philosophy. It had ended up in a dead end. And her heart had been broken. But Micah was different.

  “I have to have a job, Meg. And you know what kind of job I want.”

  “What about us?”

  “I’ve waited for you a long time. I want to take it slow. I want to
grow into our future.”

  “That’s what I mean.” She couldn’t chase after him. “I have a job here.”

  “People do survive long-distance relationships.”

  Long distance meant periods of separation. That could stretch on for years. Was that what he’d been trying to warn her about all along? Her heart resisted, but her mind raced ahead to weigh her options now. She gripped his hands, not wanting to lose him.

  She’d already fallen in love with the man. She thought he felt the same way, though he’d never told her he loved her. But now she needed to decide if she could live with and support his ministry and everything it would bring into their lives. It could be a rough row to hoe, living from one miracle to the next. She’d already faced the reality that the missionary life wasn’t as she’d dreamed. Would being a preacher’s wife be as disappointing?

  Micah was here in the flesh now. She could either reach for her dreams or shrink back in fear. She was too invested to do that.

  “I spoke with Susanna after the vote. She seemed depressed. Do you have a plan?”

  “Yes.” He touched her cheek. “You’re so beautiful in the moonlight. Even when you’re brooding. I love the way your forehead gets those little wrinkles.”

  His fingers traced them and sent shivers down her neck. His hand found her cheek again, and she cradled her face into his touch and breathed into his palm. “Yeah, I’ll trust you.”

  He scooped her close, whispered against her ear, “Thank you.” Then he lifted her chin and brought his lips to hers. He kissed her gently, urgently, then peppered her with kisses of promise. “Everything will be fine,” he murmured.

  “I know.” His lovemaking made her so dizzy it was impossible to object. He might want to take it one day at a time, but she’d think of it as one kiss at a time. That would get her through. Her thoughts took her to the corn maze, comparing the kisses. “So that was the kiss you warned me about?”