The Bridesmaid

by Beverly Lewis

  “Oh, such wonderful-gut news!” Joanna nearly toppled the stool in her hurry to embrace her cousin. “I’m so happy for ya.”

  Malinda’s face radiated joy. “Just think . . . our first little one, comin’ in early November.”

  Tears sprang to Joanna’s eyes. Oh, to be married like Malinda and starting a family! She could just picture herself confiding the same sort of lovely news to her cousin, once she was wed to Eben.

  Returning to her stool, Joanna ventured a quick look at Malinda’s middle, which as of yet showed no signs of the wondrous news. She imagined how it might feel to have her own tiny babe growing so close to her heart.

  Malinda continued talking. “I suppose it’s much too early to be makin’ cradle afghans and other baby things. Even so, I’ve already started jotting down names.”

  “I’d be doin’ the same thing if I was in your shoes.” Just that quick, Joanna noticed they were both barefoot, and they laughed heartily.

  “Dare I ask how things are progressing with your beau?” Malinda’s expression turned quite sober.

  The question was certainly warranted, but Joanna was caught off guard. She shrugged, feeling the need to keep mum.

  “Ah, now, there must be something.” Malinda leaned forward, clearly wanting to coax it out of her. Joanna recognized that look as one she’d seen on Mamma’s face, as well. “I’ll keep quiet, promise,” Malinda assured her.

  “There’s nothin’ much to tell.”

  Malinda frowned, her gaze more scrutinizing. “Aw, cousin.”

  “No, really.”

  Malinda relented. “All right, then. But I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

  Joanna forced a smile. She disliked pushing her cousin away, but what could she say?

  Darkness began to settle in. “No one knows I’m gone from the house,” she said. “Might I borrow a flashlight to head back?”

  “Of course.” Malinda rose and motioned for Joanna to follow her. “But before ya go, I want to show you something I found in the attic during my recent airing of some stored items. This find was quite unexpected, I’ll say.”

  “What is it?”

  “Ach, you’ll see.” Malinda’s smile was mysterious. “I’m just sure you’ll be delighted . . . ’specially once you’re engaged to your young man.”

  “Ya mean, it’s for me?”

  “Oh, Mammi Kurtz insists.”

  “You’ve talked to our grandmother ’bout this?”

  Malinda nodded as they walked through the yard. “It’ll make you ever so happy, believe me.”

  Joanna followed behind her cousin, thinking she should ask the question she’d already posed to several family members in a sort of poll. She wanted to include some of the responses in the story she was writing, the longest one to date. She enjoyed observing people—real people—storing away the images in her mind. This had been a hobby since childhood, when she watched others wherever she went, be it the one-room Amish schoolhouse, Sunday Preaching, or at the roadside vegetable stand where Englischers stopped by. Only later had Joanna started recasting these remembrances into fiction on the pages of her notebook.

  Joanna and Malinda strolled back to the house, and Joanna was aware of the stars appearing one by one. Insects fluttered against the screen door, hungry for the light. She recalled the small bees she’d seen curled up, asleep, the other day inside the creamy-yellow rose petals along the side of the house. The wonders of spring . . .

  Joanna paused on the back porch, leaning on the railing. “Have ya ever considered what’s been the happiest time of your life, so far?”

  Malinda wrapped her arm around a porch post and closed her eyes for a moment. Then, laughing softly, she opened them. “Frankly, I don’t have to think hard ’bout that. It’s the day I married Andy.”

  Joanna was mighty happy to hear it, particularly considering how very emotional Malinda had been. Goodness, to think she’d misread her cousin so completely! “Several of the womenfolk have said their happiest moment was becoming a mother for the first time,” Joanna told her.

  “I guess I’ll know that soon enough.”

  Joanna hugged her. “It does me gut seein’ ya so contented.”

  Malinda studied her for a moment. “Why did ya ask, Joanna?”

  “Oh, just something I’m curious about.” She pressed forward. “I like to know what others think . . . maybe because I like to write stories.”

  “Stories?”

  “Jah . . . it’s a secret I’ve kept from nearly everyone. Well, ’cept Eben and my friend Amelia.” Pausing now, Joanna hoped she wasn’t making a mistake by revealing this to her cousin. Yet Malinda had always been one to keep a confidence.

  “I daresay you’ve been a curious sort since you were born.”

  “Guess you’re right. But now I’m starting to wonder if I should’ve kept it to myself and not told Eben at all.”

  Malinda bit her lip thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve never heard of a fiction writer amongst the People.”

  “Me neither. Well, least not in Lancaster County so much.”

  “Bishop John doesn’t want us to think too highly of ourselves, ya know—Scripture has a lot to say on that.”

  “Jah, ’tis best to stay humble.”

  “S’pose if you wrote stories to help others . . .”

  “That’s an idea,” Joanna agreed. “But so far they’re really only for me.” She was quite relieved Malinda didn’t seem to think any less of her for her confession. “Truth be told, I’m concerned my beau might be backin’ away from me a bit.”

  “Whatever do ya mean?”

  Joanna didn’t know if she should say more.

  “If anything, at least from what I’ve heard, the Indiana Amish are less strict in some ways than we are.” Malinda smiled endearingly. “Are ya sure he’s become aloof?”

  Joanna shook her head. “Just a feeling.”

  “Maybe you’re worrying too much.”

  Her cousin had a point. “Maybe so.”

  Together, they made their way indoors, through the kitchen, then upstairs to one of the guest bedrooms. Malinda moved to a lovely oak blanket chest just beyond the footboard of a double bed. Carefully, she lifted several blankets and other linens off the top and placed them on a nearby chair. Then, smiling, she raised up the prettiest double wedding ring quilt Joanna had ever seen, all done in reds, purples, and blues. “Just look at this.”

  “For goodness’ sake!” Joanna peered at the exquisite work of art. “It’s breathtaking.” She reached to hold one end, and Malinda held the other as she inched back to exhibit the entire length of the beautiful quilt.

  “Mammi Kurtz says it’s a family heirloom.”

  “And in perfect condition—must not have been used as a covering at night.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought,” Malinda said. “But it was somehow misplaced for forty years.”

  Joanna stared appreciatively at the large interlocking circles. “Such a wonderful-gut discovery you’ve made.”

  “Well, I don’t plan to keep it,” Malinda said.

  “Oh, but you must!”

  “Remember what I told ya?” Malinda’s eyes were soft. “Mammi insists that it goes to you.”

  “You’re the newlywed in the family,” Joanna protested.

  “That’s kind of you, but I already have plenty of quilts.”

  Joanna studied her cousin. “Are ya sure?”

  “There’s no arguing with our grandmother.”

  “Or you either, ain’t so?” Joanna was delighted.

  “Besides, there’s an interesting story behind this quilt.”

  “They say every quilt has one.”

  Malinda nodded her head slowly, eyes twinkling. “It’s not just any story, mind you.”

  Joanna was all ears. “Well, no wonder. Just look at it.”

  “I don’t mean the colors or the stitchin’.”

  “Oh?”

  “Mammi Kurtz says it has a spiritual legacy. And,” she said mo
re softly, “there’s something of a mystery about it.”

  “Did Mammi tell you?”

  “She said it was a known secret many years ago, but it was forgotten when the quilt disappeared.”

  “Now you’ve got me wondering.” She searched the quilt for any initials. “Mammi must know who made it, jah?”

  “She says it was made in the late 1920s by one of our great-great-aunts.”

  “That long ago?”

  Malinda laid it out on the bed, and Joanna knelt to trace her finger over the familiar pattern, marveling at the choice of such a bold combination of colors. “It’s really not much different from our present-day double wedding ring pattern, jah?”

  Malinda agreed and knelt on the other side of the bed. “And just look how straight the stitches are. I’m told it was done by only one quilter, if you can imagine that.”

  “What an enormous undertaking,” whispered Joanna.

  They fell silent for a time, admiring the family treasure. Joanna let herself imagine the woman, their talented ancestor, who’d lovingly taken the time to make this quilt. To think Malinda had rescued this heirloom from the attic. And, even better yet, Mammi Kurtz wanted Joanna to have it!

  Her cousin’s and grandmother’s sentiments touched Joanna deeply. “Denki,” she managed to say. “Thank you ever so much.” Did this mean they no longer believed she was destined to be a Maidel?

  Her cousin offered to keep the quilt until Joanna could retrieve it in the buggy another day, and Joanna thanked her as they walked downstairs and then out to the porch. A loud chorus of crickets and the scent of honeysuckle filled the air. They spotted Andy coming out of the stable.

  Malinda gave her a sweet hug and a flashlight. “Don’t wait so long to visit again, all right?”

  Joanna said she’d stop by tomorrow, after the quilting bee. She waved, then made her way down the porch steps. She felt nearly giddy, not only about Malinda’s pregnancy, but the special quilt. Such a wonderful gift! Indeed, the idea of placing it in her very own hope chest did much to renew Joanna’s hope.

  She looked forward to hearing what Mammi Kurtz knew about the tale behind such a quilt. Soon, very soon.

  Chapter 15

  Driving horses trotted up and down Peaceful Acres Lane, the thuds of their hooves accentuated by the evening’s quiet. Eben wiped his forehead on the back of his shirt sleeve before he opened the mailbox on the front porch of his father’s white clapboard farmhouse. Hoping for a letter from Joanna, he was surprised to find a mighty big stack and wondered why Mamm hadn’t come out to check for mail before supper.

  A single letter caught his glance as he thumbed through the ads and bills. Looking closer, Eben could hardly believe his eyes. Leroy’s handwriting—and a letter addressed to me?

  Quickly, he opened it, holding his breath. How long had it been since he’d heard from Leroy? As best as he could recall, it had been a good six months since his twenty-four-year-old brother had written.

  Not wasting a second, Eben walked around the side of the house, peering closer in the dim light of dusk to read the short letter. He felt a surge of excitement at the final lines. I’ll be home a day or so after you get this, and not anytime too soon. I’ll look forward to seeing you and Mamm and Daed, too. We’ll have a fine reunion. Best regards, your little brother, Leroy.

  Eben refolded the letter and squinted toward the barn and the outbuildings, including the woodshed, where he and his brother-in-law had spent several hours chopping wood this morning. “Glory be! A reunion, then?” Eben muttered aloud, making his way around the side of the house, toward the door. “What’s on his mind?”

  Set back on the narrow country lane and surrounded by two hundred acres of farm and grazing land, the Troyer house was grand and welcoming. His parents and two generations of paternal grandparents before them had built the place up from scratch, tilling and cultivating the soil, raising pigs and chickens, and milking a small herd of cows to provide for the family and to make a living. The house itself was over a hundred years old, and Eben knew first-hand what that meant, having helped with the constant repairs through the years.

  He reached for the door leading to the combination screened-in porch and catch-all utility room. The mud room, Mamm called it.

  “Is Leroy comin’ to claim his rightful place?” Eben wondered aloud as he stepped inside. If so, what an answer to his prayers of the two and a half years since Leroy forsook his upbringing, yearning for higher education. The bishop had preached about advanced learning in a sermon not long afterward, urging young people to avoid it like the plague. “There’s a reason why college is called ‘higher education,’” the minister had declared. To him the word higher indicated a desire for self-advancement and disobedience to God. As if high school and college weren’t enough, Leroy had even learned to fly a plane, far and free.

  Free . . .

  Leroy was apparently that—liberated and modern—to the detriment of his own family and close friends. And to Leroy himself. Initial word had spread right quick through their community: Will Troyer’s youngest boy had finally gone fancy.

  Still gripping the letter, Eben considered the wisdom of revealing this news to his parents. Twice now Leroy had mentioned returning for a visit, but something had come up each time to postpone it. Eben certainly didn’t relish putting his mother through the heartache again, not the way she’d gone around nearly holding her breath, for pity’s sake. And it had been just as tough for Daed, poor man. No, it was best to simply wait and see what happened. See if fancy-pants Leroy followed through this time.

  Eben pushed the letter into his pocket and tore the envelope in half, placing it in the trash receptacle under the kitchen sink. His dear mother sat in the small room adjacent to the kitchen, her nose in a book—an Amish love story, it looked to be. She said nary a word over there in the corner, all snug in her overstuffed chair, surrounded by devotional magazines and the weekly newspaper, Die Botschaft.

  Eben headed to his bedroom upstairs at the end of the long hall. It was still early enough this evening to write to Joanna. What he wouldn’t give to tell her this news—was the dreadful holdup on their formal courtship finally at an end?

  Goodness, if any girl deserved a proper one, it was Joanna, sweet as a honeycomb. And with each month that drifted by and with every letter he wrote, Eben felt downright aggravated at not being able to give his girl so much as an update. There simply had been no word from Leroy . . . till now.

  When Joanna arrived home from Cousin Malinda’s, she rushed upstairs and noticed Cora Jane lingering near her doorway, looking rather sheepish. “What’re ya doin’,” she asked, her suspicions rising.

  “Just thinkin’ is all.”

  Joanna excused herself and slipped past her sister. Closing her door, she immediately went to her hope chest to see if her binder of story notebooks was still safely concealed.

  Satisfied nothing was amiss, she shook off the prickles of concern and headed downstairs in time for family worship.

  Cora Jane had already gathered with their parents in the front room as Joanna came in and sat in her usual chair near the windows. Cora Jane was scrunched up nearly in a ball over in the far chair, her head turned toward the window. Was she thinking about her beau, just maybe?

  Settling in across from Mamma, Joanna envisioned each spot where their older siblings had always sat around the front room for morning and evening family worship. Having five older brothers and two sisters, Joanna knew plenty about siblings and their personality clashes, but she also knew that no two siblings were ever alike. Again, she glanced at Cora Jane, wondering how she might react to hearing about the heirloom quilt.

  Joanna tried to picture Eben and his family beginning their evening prayers, too. And his siblings—six in all, he’d told her—a mixture of sisters and brothers. Did they read and pray every morning and evening as her family did? Except for Eben, all but his younger brother were married. And also like Joanna, he was the next to youngest. Another
common bond between us.

  As for herself, for now, Joanna was quite content to be one of the last two children living at home. She had it worked so she was the sole person getting the mail every afternoon, for one thing. Surprisingly, that had helped to keep questions about Eben’s plight to a minimum. Thus far, anyway . . .

  Presently, Daed began to read the old Biewel in the firm voice he always used for reading God’s Word. He placed his callused hands just so on the thin pages. Mamma sat humbly with her pink hands folded in her lap as Joanna listened, watching her sister fidget.

  The Good Book had always held an important place in her parents’ hearts, and in Joanna’s, too. Dat had shared the Scriptures in this manner with the family from their earliest childhood on, starting and ending each day with prayer and Bible reading.

  Someday Eben will want to share the Word of God with our children. In her mind’s eye, Joanna saw herself sitting next to Eben as he read to the family—how many children? Oh, she longed to move ahead, to be done with her single and sometimes lonely life. She longed to be loved.

  Later, when it was time to kneel for prayer, Joanna offered silent thanks for Cousin Malinda’s fun discovery of the quilt, and she also prayed for Eben’s wayward brother, Leroy.

  After Dat said amen, Mamma headed to the kitchen, and Dat shuffled out to the barn one last time.

  Joanna said good-night to Cora Jane and hurried upstairs to her own bedroom. If only tomorrow had wings, she thought, eager to get her hands on the stunning wedding quilt.

  Carefully, she lit the gas lamp in her room and went to the window that faced west, toward Indiana. I miss you, Eben. . . . For the longest time, she stood there, looking out.

  Then, perceiving someone else in the room, she turned to see Cora Jane in the doorway, her golden hair cascading over both shoulders, a brush in her hand. “May I come in?”

  “Sure,” Joanna replied. “Want me to brush your hair?”

  “Would ya?” Cora Jane’s face lit up momentarily.

  Joanna motioned for her to sit on the sturdy cane chair near the window. “It’s been a long time,” she said quietly. Too long . . .