The Bridesmaid

by Beverly Lewis

  Laughing as she pictured the scene, Joanna momentarily forgot her plan to come clean about wanting no more than a friendship with Jake.

  They talked in a relaxed manner as they rode behind several other carriages, the sounds of chatter and laughter filling up the night. He asked her what sorts of things she liked to read, and whether she liked to cook or bake better. So many questions . . . he sure seemed eager to get to know her.

  But Jake wasn’t Eben, and Joanna knew it wasn’t right to keep accepting dates with him. So, breathing a silent prayer for wisdom, she pressed forward. “I’ve enjoyed spendin’ time with you, Jake,” she said so softly she scarcely heard herself.

  He looked at her with a smile. “Same here.”

  “And I like you—”

  “I like you, too, Joanna,” he broke in.

  She felt so bad for him . . . hated saying what must be said. “But I’d prefer to just be friends, if ya don’t mind.”

  “Well, we’re already that, jah?”

  She nodded. “But how would ya feel if we were to stay only friends for a while? Till I have enough time to—”

  “To forget about Eben?” He turned away and looked at the road now; the horse’s head bobbed up and down.

  “I’m sorry, Jake . . . I really am.”

  “No need,” he said, sounding more upbeat. “Why don’t we see where this leads?”

  She pondered that. “Maybe in time, jah. I don’t want to be thinking ’bout him when I’m with you.”

  “Well, then?” He chuckled, breaking the tension.

  She paused. “I hope you understand, Jake.”

  “I certainly do,” he replied. “But I’d like to keep seein’ you, Joanna . . . as a friend, of course.” He smiled over at her. “All right?”

  As long as he understands, what can it hurt?

  Much later, when they were heading back toward Hickory Lane, Jake mentioned how much he appreciated her honesty. “I truly do,” he said.

  Then, turning into her lane, Jake said, “I can see why Eben was so taken with you, Joanna.”

  She blushed and was glad he couldn’t really see her face in the darkness.

  He leaped out of the carriage and raced around to help her down on the left side. “Sweet dreams,” he said as he walked her around toward the back door. Then, turning, he told her good-night and made his way back to the waiting horse and open buggy.

  Joanna realized she felt relieved to have a good friend in Jake, and that he understood. I did the right thing by telling him. She went to sit on one of the rockers on the back porch and watched ten thousand stars light up the summer sky. It made her think again of Eben and wonder if he, too, was stargazing this warm, muggy night.

  Mammi Kurtz’s face shone with joy as Joanna walked into the kitchen the following Tuesday morning. “I’m Fannie’s substitute today,” Joanna said, going over to greet her grandmother with a smile. “Did Salina tell ya?”

  “No, but Fannie did, before she left.” Mammi sat in a comfortable chair near the wide-open window, drinking root beer. She held up her glass. “Would ya care for some?”

  Joanna thanked her and went to get a glass from the cupboard. She reached for the pitcher from the counter and poured a half glass, then returned to pull out Dawdi’s chair from the table and turned it to face Mammi. “How’re ya feelin’ today?”

  “So much better. Fannie insists I walk back and forth the whole length of the driveway now.” Mammi told of the home-care nurse’s visits, as well. “I do believe I’m getting back to normal. Slow but sure.”

  “And Dawdi—how is he?”

  A beautiful smile appeared. “Since I’ve been home, he’s doin’ all right.” Mammi mentioned he was in their room resting, having his morning nap. “A bit clingy, though, I have to say.”

  Joanna was pleased they were alone—the perfect chance to mention the quilt from Cousin Malinda. And after they’d talked about Mammi’s hospital experience and all the kindly Englischers she’d met there, Joanna asked about the tale behind the quilt made by her great-great-aunt. “I’m really curious, Mammi. Why’d you want me to have it?”

  Mammi nodded and looked more serious now. “Well, because your namesake—I’ll call her Aunt Joanna to make things simpler—made that double wedding ring quilt in the midst of great disappointment . . . out of sheer faith.”

  “What do ya mean?” Joanna was determined to persuade Mammi to at last tell her everything she knew.

  “She was nearing her fortieth birthday and had never married,” Mammi explained. “And although it was her heart’s desire, your aunt had been labeled a Maidel by then.”

  Joanna listened intently, her heart breaking for a relative she’d never known.

  “Aunt Joanna wrote all about ‘the ache’ in her heart, as she described her disillusionment at being passed over during her courting-age years.”

  Joanna was intrigued—it sounded like the seeds for a good story. “Where’d she write this?”

  “In two letters to her younger sister.”

  “Did she also keep a diary?”

  “Oh, I’m sure. Most folk did in that day.”

  Joanna admitted that she’d looked in the special cubby in the wall upstairs, in their former bedroom. “I saw a devotional book with two letters in it. Were they hers?”

  “Snoopin’, were ya?” Mammi teased.

  “Well, I didn’t read them.”

  “That’s all right. I’ve nothin’ to hide, dear girl. Least of all from you.” Mammi readjusted herself in her chair. “I’m surprised I never thought to have ya read them.”

  “Oh, could I?”

  “Sure, go on up and get them. But before ya do, I’d like you to know why you were named after this particular relative.”

  Ever so delighted, Joanna said, “I understand the name Joanna was rather unusual in her time. Cousin Malinda said as much.”

  “Oh my, was it ever. But it certainly fit her—she was a pretty unique soul,” Mammi said. “And such faith was involved in makin’ a wedding quilt for herself. Unheard of in those days.”

  “Because everyone had given up on her marrying?”

  Mammi’s eyes glistened. “That’s right.”

  Joanna felt even more drawn to this woman who’d left such a precious spiritual inheritance. For me. “So it must’ve been hearing about Aunt Joanna’s courage that caught Mamma’s attention, and the reason she decided to name me after her.”

  “Jah—ain’t it the dearest thing?”

  “And kind of peculiar, too, if ya think ’bout it,” Joanna said softly.

  “Why’s that, honey-girl?”

  Joanna took a deep breath. “Well, because my own beau and I parted ways.”

  “Ach, I’m so sorry. Shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, no, it’s all right. Hadn’t you heard this, Mammi?”

  “Jah, I believe I did.” Mammi sighed. “But it was some time ago now.”

  “Well, to be honest, it seems like just yesterday to me. I’m still struggling with it.”

  Mammi frowned amiably. “This young man . . . you must’ve loved him very much.”

  Joanna nodded thoughtfully as she remembered all the letters, the good times she and Eben had spent together, however short. “I know he loved me, too.” Joanna opened up even more and explained that Eben had been hoping to come here to live and work, to become established in the community while courting her. “But all of that fell through when his youngest brother married an Englischer and refused the partnership with his father.”

  “No wonder you’re sad. Sounds to me like the two of you had your future all planned out.”

  “We did.” Joanna was relieved to share with her grandmother, who seemed to understand. At last someone cares. Mammi Kurtz was quite sympathetic about Eben, unlike Ella Mae Zook had been.

  “Have you ever considered goin’ out there to be with him?” Mammi asked, surprising her.

  “I really don’t see how.” Not with Preacher Yoder’s war
ning to me.

  “If he still loves you, I mean,” Mammi added.

  “He tried to ask if I would, but at the time, well . . .” Joanna’s voice trailed off as she remembered again the dreadful moment. Eben had asked her about moving, hadn’t he? Yet he’d seemed so hesitant, almost apologetic. And she . . . she knew it would never be allowed, though she hadn’t explained why. “We haven’t even written each other since April,” she murmured. “I’d thought of it—but I don’t want to be forward.”

  Mammi shrugged. “Well, you should read the letters your namesake wrote to her sister if you think that.”

  Hearing this, Joanna got up from her chair that quick. “I’ll be right back!” She hurried upstairs, opened the hidden spot in the wall, and found the letters. Then, returning to the kitchen, she placed them in front of her on the table, suddenly feeling nervous.

  “Go on, it’s all right,” Mammi coaxed. “Read them in the right order.”

  Joanna looked at the dates in each postmark and opened the earliest one. She began to read with great interest this account from the past, from one sister’s heart to another.

  My dear sister Miriam,

  Since our visit, I’ve been a-pondering many things. For one, I realize it is important for each of us to become humble, like a little child, so much so that we cry out to our Father in heaven, looking to Him for guidance first and foremost. We must reach for His hand each and every day. Just as you said, it’s the only way to live a happy life in the midst of disappointment. And I say, it’s the only way to live life, period.

  Joanna finished the letter, which continued in a similar vein. But apart from what Mammi Kurtz had just told her about this woman of great faith, Joanna didn’t know why her great-great-aunt had written in such devout terms. Had her sister counseled her about being single?

  “Are ya ready for the next one?” Mammi asked, her voice gentle.

  Joanna removed the letter from its envelope and unfolded it, suddenly trembling as she began to read.

  Dearest Miriam,

  Since your last letter, I’ve taken your advice and decided to put out a fleece of sorts, like Gideon of old. I realize some folk will think I’m all but ferhoodled. But to demonstrate my belief that God will hear and answer my heart’s cry, even now as I’ve just marked forty years of life, I’ve started to piece together a double wedding ring quilt. Some might poke fun behind my back, but that’s all right. And I’m not superstitious enough to think that once it’s finished, I shouldn’t spread it on my own bed, even though at my age I have no prospects for a beau. Fact is, I’m going to do just that!

  So, coupled with my earnest prayers, I’m putting my confidence to work, so to speak. “Faith with feet,” I read somewhere. True, this is not the typical Amish way. Even so, I believe that when the Lord God puts a desire in a person’s heart—remember Psalm 37:4?—it’s there for a reason and ought to be acted upon.

  I’ll keep you informed as time goes along. And I’m telling you right now, I won’t be shy when the Good Lord brings a beau to my door!

  I wait and pray with expectancy for the husband He has chosen for me.

  With love,

  Your sister, Joanna

  Blinking back tears, Joanna looked over at her grandmother. “What an amazing woman, jah?”

  Mammi nodded her head, face solemn. “She certainly was . . . and God not only heard her heart’s prayer, but gave her two children—twins, a boy and a girl—a double blessing, to be sure.”

  Joanna couldn’t help asking—she had to know. “How long after the quilt was completed did she wed?”

  “One year,” Mammi said. “She married a lovely man, a widower who was only three years older . . . and a respected preacher, as well.”

  “With that kind of faith, she must’ve been a wonderful-gut preacher’s wife.”

  Now Mammi was brushing away tears. “We have an inspiring heritage, ain’t so?”

  The Good Lord had known, all the way back to the day her great-great-aunt Joanna was threading her little quilting needle, that on this day, these many years later, another much younger Joanna would be deeply touched by the unseen yet very real bond between them.

  Joanna remembered the line toward the end of the last letter. I won’t be shy. . . . “With as much pluck as she seemed to have . . . did Aunt Joanna pop the question to the widowed preacher, just maybe?”

  “As the story goes,” Mammi said, the most encouraging smile on her pink face.

  “Denki for sharing this with me.”

  “Happy to, dear girl.”

  “Aunt Joanna’s quilt is a mighty special one, I’ll say.”

  “Special indeed,” said Mammi, a twinkle in her eye.

  Chapter 34

  Eben had lined up two dates with two different girls for the next couple of weekends, well into the middle of July. Maybe filling up his free time might help him recover more quickly from his loss of Joanna, though so far that plan hadn’t been working. And since Emma Miller, Cousin Chester’s former fiancée, was by no means interested in mingling with any new fellows, Eben was stuck with asking out much younger, and rather immature, girls.

  Each Friday since returning home, he’d thought of Joanna when the usual time rolled around to call her. By now, though, he had lost track of which Friday it was, and for that he was sorry. He’d thought he would always remember the every-other-week pattern.

  Life had plodded along for him. He scarcely had any leisure, what with threshing in full swing and his father depending more and more on Eben’s decision making.

  Since Leroy’s visit, his letters had become increasingly frequent, which Eben found curious. Now that Leroy was married and had completely severed himself from Amish life, did he miss it?

  But it was a mistake to entertain such thoughts. Besides, Eben had gotten a good look at Leroy’s Mustang convertible and his English wife. Mrs. Debbie Troyer was by no means inclined to think of becoming Plain, even if her husband might begin to regret his decision in years to come. No, it was hard to comprehend why Leroy now wrote to Eben each week. Was he merely making up for lost time?

  One night in mid-July, a couple weeks after Joanna’s enlightening visit with Mammi Kurtz, she gently removed the large double wedding ring quilt from her hope chest and placed it on her bed. Of course, with the summer heat almost unbearable upstairs, there was no way she’d use it to cover herself, but placing it there felt like a celebratory act.

  When she’d taken care to lay it out just so, she knelt beside her bed and prayed as earnestly as Great-Great-Aunt Joanna had prayed so many years ago. Silently, she poured out her heart to God, sorry for not having prayed for His will in her life before now, especially in regard to a husband. She asked for a broken and contrite spirit, acknowledging her part in the wall that had come between her and her sister. Please, Lord, forgive me for my own unkind attitude. . . .

  In the quiet, Joanna also confessed her repeated defiance toward the ministerial brethren when it came to her writing—whatever she might think of it. Lead me in every aspect of my life . . . just as you led my namesake.

  After a while, Joanna rose and sat on the only chair in the room. Her heart felt lighter somehow as she began to knit soft white baby booties for Cousin Malinda’s coming child. She had also been crocheting a pale-yellow-and-mint-green cradle afghan, which she picked up now and then, taking her time and praying all the while for this new little one.

  The minutes passed, and she glanced up to see Cora Jane lingering in the hallway, her long hair down and clad in her lightweight house robe. Her sister looked like she wanted to come in. “It’s all right,” Joanna said, motioning to her.

  Cora Jane blinked her eyes as she gawked at the quilt. “I must’ve missed something,” she said, face puzzled. “Did ya secretly get married?”

  Joanna laughed softly. “No.”

  “Well, what’s this doin’ here?”

  “I’ve decided, why not just enjoy it while I wait?”

  Cora Jane’
s eyes fluttered. “Wait for what?”

  “Well, for a husband.”

  “And you think this quilt will make that happen?”

  “Nee—not at all.” She smiled at her sister. “But it will happen in God’s time.” Quickly, she shared the story behind the old quilt, glad for the opportunity to finally tell her.

  Nodding slowly, Cora Jane gathered up her hair and pushed it over one shoulder. “You wonder me, sister.”

  I understand that feeling. But Joanna kept the thought to herself.

  In the following days, Joanna wished there was a way to broach the topic of her namesake with Mamma. On one of the last Tuesdays in July, she helped finish up the ironing while baking several loaves of bread. Her mother put up a batch of green beans with Cora Jane and talked about the peaches and plums that were coming on soon. Mamma hoped they’d make lots of extra jam, along with canning the fruit.

  The heat was so sweltering, Joanna suggested they take their noon meal under the shade tree in the backyard. “How about a nice picnic instead of a hot meal today?”

  Cora Jane nixed the idea, arguing that Dat and their older brothers helping cultivate the cornfield needed a big, tasty meal to keep up their strength. “A sandwich just isn’t enough.”

  Mamma gave Joanna an agreeable look. “What a nice idea, though,” she said while Cora Jane glowered. “Another day, maybe?”

  “Well, Dat’s not goin’ to want to sit on a blanket on the ground anytime soon, is he?” Cora Jane piped up again. “His back’s out of whack again, what with all the field work.”

  “That’s true,” Mamma said. “But still, it was a lovely thought your sister had. And your father and I can always sit on lawn chairs out there, ya know.” She wasn’t going to let Cora Jane have the final say on this—that was clear.

  Joanna braced for another spirited remark from her sister, but when none came, she offered her best smile to Cora Jane, who held her gaze, then suddenly looked sad.