The Bridesmaid

by Beverly Lewis

  All of that aside, Joanna had for some years delighted in spinning her imaginary yarns. There were just so many interesting ideas flitting through her head!

  She glanced at her younger sister, who stood in her usual cluster of friends and cousins. Here lately, Joanna had suspected Cora Jane was getting close to a marriage proposal. Truth was, with her golden hair and big blue eyes, Cora Jane knew how to get a young man’s attention, something she’d even shared back when they were confidantes. Since Joanna had met Eben, however, their sisterly chats had become a thing of the past. And maybe it was for the best, with such a secret to keep.

  Joanna remembered clearly what her sister had whispered during one nighttime conversation: that it was important to let a fellow know you were interested, holding his gaze and hanging on to his every word, interjecting a comment here and there while letting him do most of the talking, especially on the first date. And all of that had come so naturally to Joanna with Eben . . . something that had never happened before.

  The minute the songs were finished, Jake looked Joanna’s way again, and so as not to encourage him a speck, she visited with Cousin Malinda’s younger sisters. She wanted nothing more than to slip out of the barn for home, unseen. Feeling a little guilty about her deliberate aloofness, she returned his smile when she again found him looking her way. Her toes curled in her shoes.

  Will he take it wrong?

  Then, as if by some miracle, Cora Jane, and Malinda’s younger sister, Mary Rose, walked over to the other side of the barn to talk with Jake. Feeling much relieved, Joanna wondered if Cora Jane had, perhaps, observed the silent exchange of smiles and sensed Joanna’s uneasiness. Had her sister stepped in on purpose?

  Looking about her, Joanna saw that she could at last exit discreetly. So she pushed open the barn door and left to walk home through the chilly night. She didn’t mind the snowflakes that sprinkled her nose and lips; Joanna simply pulled her coat tighter around her, glad for her scarf and gloves.

  In that moment, she had an unexpected thought, one that warmed her heart. What if she and Eben were to marry next wedding season? Which two girls would she choose for her bridesmaids? Joanna laughed to herself—she was putting the carriage before the horse again. She was known to have a vivid imagination, something even Mamma had pointed out since Joanna was but a little girl. So now Joanna questioned herself: Was it merely wishful thinking to hope her beau might propose, perhaps even via letter? Or was this just the stuff of the romantic fiction she dearly loved to read . . . and write?

  Wonderful as it was to anticipate and receive Eben’s letters, they were a frequent reminder that her beau lived way out in Shipshewana, where he and his extended family had farmed for generations. She was curious about his parents and siblings—his entire family, really—but hadn’t had the gumption to ask, not wanting to appear forward. She sometimes feared she might mess up and write something awkward, spoiling things between them. So she was careful to see that her own letters dealt mostly with daily life and happenings in Hickory Hollow.

  Joanna had taken care to capture every detail of her own beloved little hollow there in Lancaster County. She’d also written Eben about the dear folk, like Samuel and Rebecca Lapp, and Paul and Lillianne Hostetler . . . and Ella Mae Zook, the old Wise Woman so many in the area turned to with their problems. Joanna hoped she hadn’t gone overboard with her portrayals or the descriptions of the landscape. It was just that she loved everything about Hickory Hollow and was holding her breath that Eben might come there to court her, to settle and eventually marry. So far, though, he hadn’t said anything of the kind.

  Picking up her pace now, she thought of Cora Jane and her steady beau, Gideon Zook. She’d seen him drop her off late at night after a long buggy ride. The memory of Cora Jane’s mirth rang out in Joanna’s mind—that appealing, melodious laughter.

  “Do I laugh enough?” Joanna whispered into the darkness, unsure how to share her lighthearted side in letters to Eben. But there had never been a need to work to impress him. Why, joy of joys, recently Eben had started signing off, with love.

  A mighty gut sign!

  And tomorrow evening at seven o’clock, Eben had said he’d call her, having asked for the phone number of the community phone shanty situated in one of Dat’s fields.

  So much for Cora Jane’s admonition, Joanna thought with a smile.

  Then a sudden concern presented itself, and she couldn’t help wondering what Eben wanted to discuss by phone. And why now?

  Chapter 2

  Joanna slipped into bed well after ten o’clock that night, but she awakened before dawn with such curiosity and expectation for the day that she got right up and lit the lantern. She hurried across the room, her bare feet chilled by the draft creeping through the floorboards. Then, taking her notebook from the three-ring binder stored in her hope chest, she curled back up in bed and wrote for a good hour, till it was time to shower.

  Her thoughts today were on one thing: the phone call from Eben tonight. Oh, to hear his voice again!

  After dressing, she brushed her hair more than a hundred times, caught up in the notion that she wanted to look her very best, even though Eben couldn’t possibly see her. Joanna was to use the outdoor phone meant primarily for emergencies and calling for a driver—necessary things that didn’t include talking to a beau. Yet lots of folk did small things behind the bishop’s back, saying by their actions, What the strict bishop doesn’t know won’t matter.

  Even so, what would happen if Joanna were ever caught using the phone for personal use? Was it truly a transgression?

  Parting her hair down the middle, she tightly twisted the sides before pulling her blond hair into a thick bun. Then she placed her white Kapp on her head and hurried back upstairs to make her bed and put away her writing notebook. She’d taken an unnecessary risk, leaving it out in plain sight on the bed, of all things. For sure and for certain, the phone call tonight had her all but ferhoodled.

  She still had no idea why Eben wanted to call. Was it just because he missed her? His letters certainly indicated his lasting affection. She hoped hers sent the same loving message back to him.

  After breakfast, she put a roast in the oven, then set about sweeping Mamma’s big kitchen floor with the stiff-bristled broom. She got in the corners real good, as Mamma had taught her back when she was a little girl, scarcely as tall as the broom itself, finishing out in the catch-all utility room, which was as cluttered as she’d ever seen it. How does such a mess happen in a single day?

  Once the floors were spotless, Cora Jane brought in a pile of mending and sat down at the kitchen table without uttering a word to Joanna or to their pleasingly plump mother. Right away, she set to work patching, not giving anyone so much as a glance. Joanna figured it was best to keep out of her sister’s way, especially considering how Cora Jane had acted at Cousin Malinda’s wedding.

  Around ten-thirty, Joanna wiped her brow and went to wash up before peeling potatoes for a generous pot of beef stew. Taking into account Cora Jane’s attitude, she’d rather cook on her own. Mamma had undoubtedly noticed the tension between them, but Joanna hoped things might calm down somewhat, now that Malinda and Andy’s wedding was past. Now that I’ve served as a bridesmaid yet again.

  Joanna began cutting up the potatoes, musing. If she could do anything in the kitchen, she’d choose something other than cleaning. Cooking was altogether different, because she didn’t equate making meals or baking bread with housework. To her thinking, one was humdrum and uncreative, the other enjoyable. She smiled, thinking how she’d feel cooking for Eben each day.

  Just at that moment, Cora Jane looked over at her. “You happy ’bout something, sister?”

  Mamma turned to look, as well, blue eyes shining. “Are ya makin’ enough stew so we’ll have leftovers tomorrow?”

  “Oh, there’ll be a-plenty,” replied Joanna, thankful for Mamma’s intervention. “This is a double batch.”

  “Gut, ’cause I really hate peel
in’ potatoes—it’s the worst thing ever,” Cora Jane complained.

  “Now, dear,” Mamma said sweetly. “No need to say ‘hate.’”

  Cora Jane clammed up, eyes blinking fast. At her age, she knew better than to say things to set Mamma off, yet sometimes Cora Jane just seemed bent on being disagreeable.

  But Joanna knew it would do no good to fret over her sister. She returned her attention to cutting up the roast beef, then browned the cubes in butter. When that was done, she added two large onions, canned carrots from last year’s family garden, and the seasonings. She’d made the meal so many times, there was no need for a recipe. All the while, she wondered what Eben’s favorite meals were. Joanna could scarcely wait to learn all there was to know about him!

  Her father’s intense gray eyes were fixed on the steaming bowl of stew Joanna set before him, though he characteristically said nary a word. He leaned his tall frame against the chair at the head of the table, and the four of them offered the silent table blessing. They enjoyed the hearty meal, complete with cottage cheese, fresh-baked bread, and Mamma’s wonderful apple butter. For dessert, Joanna served the rest of a pumpkin pie Mamma had baked yesterday afternoon following the wedding.

  Cora Jane ate without making a peep. Dat didn’t say much, either—generally he said little unless he had good reason. Mamma, for her part, tried to make small talk, mostly about the cold weather and the coming snow. Joanna cherished her own private thoughts as she spooned up the delicious stew, relieved in a way that Cora Jane wasn’t as talkative as usual.

  Looking around the largely empty table, Joanna tried to picture Eben sitting there. Could he manage to get Dat talking during dinner? Very few folk could. Not even Michael Hostetler down Hickory Lane, their neighbors’ genial son, who until recently had worked part-time for Dat.

  “We have a few more weddings comin’ up in the next two weeks,” Mamma said.

  Joanna nodded. “Have ya decided which cousin’s wedding to attend next Thursday?”

  “Ach, two weddings in the family on the selfsame day,” Mamma said, shaking her head. “Happens too often, jah? Lena and Ruthann—such a hard choice to make.”

  Cora Jane didn’t bother to look up, and Dat would leave the decision to Mamma. Poor Mamma, thought Joanna.

  “Which wedding will Salina go to?” Joanna asked. Salina was the only married daughter in the family and already a mother to three young children. The rest of Joanna and Cora Jane’s siblings were boys, all married with youngsters of their own.

  Mamma’s face lit up. “Now, why didn’t I think of that? I’ll ask her this afternoon.”

  Joanna wasn’t surprised. After all, Salina stopped in quite often. So then it was settled: They would go to whichever wedding Salina chose.

  Weddings abound, thought Joanna, taking another bite of pie while avoiding Cora Jane’s impudent stare.

  When the clouds lowered during supper that evening and a tremendous wind came up, gusting snow, Joanna knew she was in for a challenge getting out to the phone shanty several acres away. The white-out conditions were hazardous—some farmers were known to tie a rope to the house and their own hand just to go out to the barn and back in such conditions.

  She hoped the snowstorm was short-lived and done by the time she needed to get to the phone. How she yearned for the lovely months of summer, when their closest neighbors could easily wander over for some watermelon or homemade ice cream and a back porch visit, or the other way around. Mamma, for instance, hadn’t been over to see Ella Mae Zook or even Rachel Stoltzfus, the bishop’s mother-in-law, in weeks. Joanna missed all the impromptu conversation at the end of the long day, as well as the sight of green leaves and blossoming flowers.

  Joanna had never quite forgotten the impression she’d had of Ella Mae when Mamma had taken her along for tea with the Wise Woman. It was years before Ella Mae’s husband passed away, when Joanna was but four and Ella Mae was still living in the farmhouse a mile or so away. Joanna couldn’t help but feel comfortable in the sun-drenched kitchen so similar to Mamma’s own. She’d sat across from Mamma on a wooden chair with a mound of pillows tucked beneath her, a little yellow daisy teacup and saucer set before her filled with peppermint tea.

  Mamma and Ella Mae sat sipping and chatting on the other side of the table while Joanna picked up her spoon and began to stir, looking at the murky hot water.

  “Here, dearie,” Ella Mae said, rising just then and going to her old icebox to get a jar of real whipped cream. “This’ll make your first cup of tea extra yummy.” With a twinkle in her eye, Ella Mae put a dollop of the sweet white cream atop Joanna’s tea. Mamma’s eyes widened when Ella Mae encouraged Joanna to stick her little pointer finger in the whipped cream and lick it off.

  Even then, Joanna had wondered how a woman that old could have possibly known what a child was thinking. Then and there, she sensed something special about this lady the People called wise, whose sincere and welcoming manner—and specially brewed tea—drew people like bees to roses. Particularly women who needed a caring friend and a listening ear.

  Joanna smiled with the dear memory as she drew hot water after supper dishes were cleared from the table. She squirted an ample amount of dish soap into the water and swished it around. Cora Jane came over, jerked the tea towel off the rack, and stood stiff and uncommunicative, waiting to dry the dishes. Joanna sighed inwardly and listened to see if the wind outdoors might be dying down some. Less than an hour and a half left before she needed to make her trek out to the phone shack for the seven o’clock call.

  When the kitchen was all redd up, Mamma suggested the three of them make chocolate chip cookies for the upcoming weekend. Cora Jane brightened immediately, voting to make snickerdoodles, her very favorite. Joanna agreed to help, knowing she’d have to watch the clock, as well as find a way to leave gracefully without raising eyebrows.

  Going over to preheat the gas oven, Joanna noticed Dat get up from his chair near the heat stove and wander out to the utility room. Mamma followed, asking where he was going in such weather.

  “Want to check on the livestock . . . see how the newest calves are doin’.”

  Her father opened the back door, and Joanna could see that the wind was not as fierce as before. And when it was time to place the cookie sheets into the oven, Mamma slipped away to the sitting room and Cora Jane went upstairs. Joanna breathed a sigh of relief.

  It’s now or never! She made haste to don her warmest coat, boots, woolen scarf, and gloves. Then, lickety-split, she put on her black candlesnuffer-style outer bonnet and left the house.

  Chapter 3

  Eben Troyer headed through the cold toward Peaceful Acres Lane wearing his old work boots and black felt hat, as well as his father’s dark blue muffler. The frosty air stung his cheeks and nose, and he could smell the smoke from the new woodstove he and Daed had installed in the barn just a few days ago. In time for the turn in weather. He’d spent a good part of the day stacking hay in the loft and, later, hooking up the horse’s water tank to the generator to keep it from freezing.

  The rickety phone hut was a half mile from his father’s farmhouse, not far enough away to warrant hitching up the horse and carriage. He had been counting the days till he talked to Joanna, and judging from the way she’d responded in her letter about their conversation tonight, he presumed she was equally excited. A phone date, of all things!

  As he approached the shanty, he noticed his father’s older brother, Solomon, standing inside and talking by lantern light. Sol’s hands were moving to beat the band, which was the way he always talked.

  Didn’t expect this, Eben thought, searching for his pocket watch. Unable to see it, he pulled out his flashlight but then thought better of turning it on. He certainly didn’t want to call attention to himself, not with talkative Uncle Solomon nearby.

  So Eben hung back in the trees, waiting his turn and hearing the clip-clopping of horses’ hooves in the distance. Who would’ve guessed the weather would sour like this on the
very night he’d chosen to phone Joanna. He could only imagine what it was like in Hickory Hollow.

  Growing colder by the minute, he wondered how much longer his uncle would be and wished he’d worn heavier gloves. Even so, he’d wait all night if it meant hearing Joanna’s sweet voice again.

  He removed her letter, folded with the phone number face up. It was to some extent amusing that of all the girls he might have fallen for, Joanna Kurtz happened to live in another state. But there was no doubt in his mind she was worth any amount of distance. And as pretty and thoughtful as she was, it had initially puzzled him as to why Joanna was still single.

  Has God kept her just for me? The thought was encouraging as Eben waited for Uncle Sol to complete his call, which it appeared he was doing just now. Sol hung up the receiver and opened the wooden door, then closed it right quick. But he’d forgotten his lantern and had to step back inside to retrieve it before leaving again.

  I’ll wait just a bit. Eben watched his uncle amble across the field toward his farmhouse. Then, lest someone else wander along to use the phone, Eben flicked on his flashlight and made his way into the shanty, his pulse quickening. After exchanging letters as their only means of communication since this past summer, he was certain this wintry night was about to warm up in a very big way.

  ———

  Joanna shivered as she stood inside the narrow shed, holding her breath for the phone to ring. The light from her small flashlight began to dim, and she wished she’d put in new batteries before leaving the house.