The Bridesmaid

by Beverly Lewis

  But Preacher didn’t come that day or the next, and Joanna couldn’t have been more apprehensive if she were expecting the bishop himself.

  After the Sunday Singing, the first one in September, Joanna noticed Cora Jane talking with Mary Rose Witmer and two other cousins across the barn. Joanna managed to catch her sister’s eye and motioned to her. “Come join us,” she mouthed, thinking it might be fun to include Cora Jane in small talk with her and Jake.

  Once Cora Jane came over and made a little circle of three, Jake told a story about a bunch of fellows who’d gotten their feet tied up while they were sleeping at a campout one night. They’d ended up tripping all over themselves when they got up in the morning—falling flat on their faces.

  “Why on earth?” Cora Jane asked, inching in closer.

  Jake grinned. “Well, it’s like this: They were all getting hitched that comin’ week. The single fellas tend to pick on the ones who are published to be married, ya know.”

  “There are so many pranks for the groom, ain’t so?” Cora Jane said. “Oh, tell us another prank you’ve heard.”

  With that, Jake was off, this time with a tale about another cousin. Cora Jane’s eyes were big as he wrapped up, and then one topic of conversation shifted effortlessly into another, until they were talking easily about shared interests. Cora Jane seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself, and Joanna could see how exceptionally taken Jake was with Cora Jane’s spunk.

  Joanna felt amused at being left far behind in this exchange. And later, when Jake asked if Joanna minded if they gave Cora Jane a ride home, too, Cora Jane protested demurely. But it was quite obvious there was a real spark between her and Jake, and Joanna realized she didn’t mind in the least.

  Jake seemed to enjoy the attention of both girls as they rode along in his handsome open carriage. Joanna couldn’t keep from smiling as she looked back and forth between Jake and Cora Jane, like a witness to a Ping-Pong match. She was smashed like cheese in a sandwich between the two of them, and as they talked animatedly, she noticed that this was the third time they’d passed the house and not stopped to let Cora Jane out.

  Eventually, as the hour grew late, Cora Jane graciously suggested she should be getting home. Joanna didn’t object because she wanted to talk with Jake for a bit once her sister left for the house. She would be ever so cautious, though, in how she phrased things.

  When asked, Jake didn’t deny the attraction. Joanna gave him the green light to pursue courting Cora Jane. “If you’d like to.”

  “Are you sure ’bout this?” he asked, leaning closer. “I’d never want to hurt you, Joanna.”

  “We have a deal, remember? Just friends.”

  He nodded much too emphatically, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m perfectly fine if you want to take my sister out.”

  Jake studied her. “Only if you’re absolutely certain.”

  “I am. And just think, if you two end up together, we’ll be brother and sister, which is even better than friends, jah?”

  He chuckled. “Not always. Sometimes siblings can be a pain in the neck, if you know what I mean.”

  While that was certainly true enough, Joanna didn’t admit to it—not now, given the way Cora Jane and she were getting along so well.

  A crescent moon appeared over the cornfield to the east, and Jake kindly mentioned that it was probably time to call it a night. He came around the open carriage, helped Joanna down, and walked her partway up the lane, just as he had always done before. But tonight, Joanna guessed, was to be the very last time.

  Cora Jane’s lantern was still lit and burning when Joanna slipped over to her room. Her sister’s hair was a sheet of flowing flaxen over one side of her pale pink nightgown. She sat in bed and smiled immediately. “Did Jake tell more stories after I left? I must’ve missed some gut ones, jah?”

  “Are you honestly sayin’ that’s what you want to know?”

  Cora Jane’s eyes glimmered. “What else is there to ask?”

  “Oh, well . . . I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.”

  “For me or for you?” Laughing softly, Cora Jane reached for her hand. “You do know something, don’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Goodness’ sake!” Cora Jane blushed.

  They were both laughing now, and it felt like old times. Cora Jane patted her side of the bed, inviting Joanna to stay awhile longer.

  “Jake is gut for you, ain’t so?” Cora Jane said as she turned on her side to look Joanna square in the face.

  “I never thought I could be friends with a fella, ya know? It’s kind of peculiar.”

  Cora Jane was suddenly quiet.

  “He’s learned some important courting lessons,” Joanna said. “Knows how to behave on a date, for sure.”

  “I wondered ’bout that. But it’s pretty obvious he got some gut advice from somewhere.”

  Joanna didn’t mention Ella Mae Zook or that she knew Jake had gone to talk to her last April.

  “He’s grown up a lot—maybe because of bein’ friends with you, Joanna.”

  She shrugged. “Who’s to say?”

  “And the two of you have something big in common, jah?” said Cora Jane. “A real love of stories.”

  “That we do.” Sliding her hand beneath the pillow, Joanna began to relax. “He tells them so freely.”

  “Do you miss your story writing terribly?” Cora Jane’s voice was soft, even regretful.

  “Not as much as at first. If I didn’t have my poetry to fall back on, I’d miss it even more. The Lord’s given me another way to express my creativity, I guess.”

  “Well, no matter what you write, it’s a gift.”

  This surprised Joanna. “What a nice thing to say.”

  “Nice . . . and mighty confusing, too, ain’t?” Cora Jane glanced at the small clock on her bed shelf.

  Nodding, Joanna refused to think about the confusing part, feeling quite sure she knew what was coming with Preacher Yoder’s impending visit.

  “You’d better head for bed,” Cora Jane said, “or you’ll end up falling asleep in your clothes right here.”

  Joanna opened her sleepy eyes and looked over at her sister. “I’m glad we can talk like this again.”

  “Me too.”

  With that, Joanna got up, said good-night, and walked to her own room. Once there, although feeling tired, she lit her lantern and settled into bed to read from the book of Proverbs. After a time, she bowed her head and folded her hands in a prayer of thanksgiving for God’s goodness and grace in all of their lives. Then she outened the gas lamp.

  But sleep did not come quickly. For one thing, she had a hard time dismissing the conversation with Ella Mae the day they’d canned peaches. For another, she couldn’t forget the letters her namesake had written to her own sister Miriam.

  Lying there in the darkened room, Joanna stared at the open window, welcoming the cool night air. She had carefully folded back the heirloom quilt, along with the sheet, and relished the slight breeze on her cotton gown.

  And then, as if a nudge had come from heaven, an unexpected idea dropped into her heart. Oh jah. Joanna knew exactly what she wanted to tell Preacher Yoder, Lord willing, once he revealed what was on his mind. It was ever so plain to her just now.

  But dare she speak up yet again?

  Chapter 40

  A single blunt knock came at the back door the next day, just as Joanna and her mother were sitting down to catch a breath after having hung out an extra large washing. They’d also baked two more loaves of bread than usual, and on such a warm day, too.

  Mamma looked sideways at Joanna and got up to move toward the screen door, where Preacher Yoder stood in his usual black attire, his straw hat in hand, jaw set.

  I must surely be in trouble again. Joanna slunk down in her chair at the table, where she’d fluted the edges of two pie shells she planned to fill with early apples. When she glanced up, she could see the old well pump behind the preacher, in the backyard. She cri
nged, remembering the minister’s last visit.

  Meanwhile, Mamma was telling him Dat had gone. “Went over to Noah’s place not fifteen minutes ago.”

  Joanna held her breath and hoped Preacher Yoder might simply offer to return at a more suitable time.

  “Joanna, dear,” Mamma called, turning to reveal a flushed face.

  She left the piecrusts there on the table. I’ll hear what he has to say and be done with it, Joanna told herself.

  But before she could get out to the utility room door, Preacher Yoder strode into the kitchen with Mamma following behind like a chubby little bird.

  “Joanna,” he said, not cracking a smile. “I have something to tell you.”

  She refused the urge to flinch and instead met him at the table when Mamma gave a slight shift of her hand, indicating they should sit. Joanna sat where Cora Jane usually did, on the long bench facing the windows, and Mamma sat across from her in her own chair, with Preacher Yoder presumptuously at the head of the table, in Dat’s place.

  Preacher folded his callused hands on the table and stared at them for a moment. “You are quite fond of writing, as I understand it.”

  Joanna slowly raised her eyes to his. This was ground they’d already covered.

  “And you continue to write even now, according to the deacon’s wife, Sallie, and others.”

  “Only poetry.” She took the risk and defended herself in what she dearly hoped was a respectful tone. “Little poems to cheer folk up.”

  He nodded, his expression less severe than at the last visit. “So I hear.”

  “I’ve given up my story writing—gave it up before the Lord God and heavenly Father.” She longed to jump ahead and tell him what had helped to prompt her decision, but she refrained, thinking it unwise. She curled her toes under the table.

  “Sallie is so impressed by those little poems, she’s suggested I encourage you to submit some of them to the Ladies Journal.” He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her. It gave an editor’s name and the address for submissions.

  Joanna could hardly speak. “My writings . . . published?”

  “Your poetry.”

  She was stunned at this turn of events. Mamma beamed at her across the table, and her short, quick nod of the head meant that Joanna should say something. But news of this sort had been the farthest thing from her mind on such a day. “Are you . . . is she ever so sure?”

  “Sallie?” Preacher grinned. “I’m told several women were in agreement with her.”

  Joanna thought then of the way Fannie’s visit to the deacon’s wife had been somewhat downplayed by Mammi Kurtz. Now that Joanna thought of it, she wondered if Cora Jane might also have been involved.

  Beyond pleased, Joanna shook her head as she tried to absorb all of this. And, lo and behold, the very question she’d so wanted to ask just flew from her mind. Gone in the wake of this wonderful-gut surprise.

  “I’ll leave it up to you to pursue this, if you wish,” Preacher added. “With my blessing . . . and Bishop John’s, too.”

  The bishop’s?

  She nodded, still overwhelmed at this turn of events. It wasn’t difficult to think of which poem to present to the magazine editors. A pleasant tremor went through her. What if it ended up in print for the whole world to see? Her world . . . the Plain community at large.

  Then, before Joanna could say more, Mamma offered to bring each of them a slice of warm bread with strawberry jam, and soon Joanna and the preacher found themselves sitting alone at the table, just looking at each other.

  Something about the way he ran his fingers up and down his suspenders made her think of Eben. And in that moment, Joanna knew she could indeed confide in Preacher Yoder.

  Eben enjoyed nibbling the fresh cinnamon sticky bun his mother had made earlier that morning, though he allowed himself only one. He hadn’t second-guessed the things Daed had put to him the other night in the barn. None of his older brothers had blinked an eye at Daed’s decision, which still surprised Eben. Yet he reeled with the news and felt it was only right to contact Leroy about it, as well.

  “You and your father have to fill silo yet,” his mother said, offering more to eat.

  “That and the vet’s comin’ to check the cows’ blood for TB and brucellosis in a couple of days,” Eben mentioned. Knowing how sluggish eating between meals made him, he politely refused any more mouthwatering treats and hurried back out to help his father.

  Eyeing the phone shack, a brown dot in the distance, he determined it was time to give Leroy a call.

  Later tonight.

  The time had come for Joanna to share with Preacher Yoder what she’d felt led to do. “No matter how things turn out, I want to do this for the Lord God . . . and out of respect for the brethren,” she began.

  A confused frown crossed the minister’s brow. “Speak plainly,” he urged.

  She glanced at Mamma, now over at the sink, then back at the minister. “After prayer, I am willing to sacrifice my story writing for the rest of my life, for a transfer of membership to another state,” she said with all the courage she could gather.

  “To which church?”

  She told him quietly.

  “Well, I can’t promise, but I’ll bring it up with Bishop John.” His composed countenance spoke volumes, and she felt heartened.

  Mamma returned to the table carrying a plate with two thick slices of bread and set it down, along with a jar of jam.

  Joanna continued, being more direct than she’d ever been with anyone in spiritual authority. In turn, the preacher made it equally clear that she was permitted to continue writing her poetry as long as it was done to offer encouragement.

  “Daughter?” Mamma said after a time, looking baffled as she sat there. “Why a request to transfer to another church?”

  Holding off on revealing her entire plan, Joanna explained that she didn’t know yet if transferring would even be necessary. “But I’ll know soon enough.”

  It was only then that Joanna saw the bewilderment lift, and tenderness and understanding shone in Mamma’s dear eyes.

  Chapter 41

  Joanna hadn’t really foreseen how anxious she would be to locate the Troyer farm in thriving, green Shipshewana. By the time she arrived Friday—in a van full of other Amish heading for various towns in Indiana—and had acquired a taxicab, she was beginning to feel the effects of the exceedingly long day, tired yet buoyed by the excitement of her surprise visit. The worry came from not knowing what her former beau might do or say when she arrived without warning.

  What if he has a steady girlfriend by now? Joanna asked herself, then attempted to squash the dreadful notion. Oh, surely not! Yet the voice of reason crept back in, and she realized that Eben could very well have moved on with a new sweetheart. What would keep him from doing so?

  Either way, she had to know for certain. And if not, was he still thinking of her, missing her . . . wishing there was a miraculous way for them to be together? Well, here she was, and all of their distance keeping was behind them. Although Joanna no longer wrote down her romantic imaginings about happily-ever-afters, she still liked to contemplate different scenarios. No one could keep her from writing stories in her head, so to speak. And she did just that as she enjoyed the ride along the rural roads, all of which were numbered county roads rather than streets with names, like those in Hickory Hollow.

  Weary as she was, she longed to lean her head back in the cab, but she would not have time to undo her hair bun and tidy it up before seeing Eben and meeting his family. If that even happens. The thought of being introduced to his parents hadn’t been something she’d mentally prepared herself for at all. And thinking just now how awkward that might turn out to be for all of them, Joanna wondered why she hadn’t considered it before now. Was I in too much of a hurry? she wondered, thinking back to last Monday and the preacher’s visit.

  Mamma had quizzed her at length after their minister left with strawberry jam on his shirt. She’d been u
nable to suppress her smile or her animation. In fact, Joanna had never imagined her mother so aflutter about Joanna’s hope of reuniting with Eben. Mamma, of course, had mixed feelings of both joy and sadness—and, oh, how she fretted about the risk Joanna was taking!

  “I have to do this,” Joanna had explained, citing her namesake as the inspiration for her daring plan to go to Indiana. “Did ya know my ancestor proposed marriage to the man she eventually married?”

  Mamma grimaced and said she wasn’t certain that information was factual, but Joanna insisted Mammi Kurtz knew all about it.

  Once Joanna had finished sharing her intention, she asked Mamma not to tell Dat. “Only you and Cora Jane will know,” Joanna said. “Promise?”

  Mamma looked askance, as if to say, “You’re asking this?”

  “I’ll tell Cora Jane myself,” she assured Mamma.

  “Well, and that’s far better, I daresay. Sister to sister.” Mamma fell silent for a time. “Your father would never agree to let you go, if he knew.”

  “Another reason why it’s probably best for him not to. After all, aren’t I old enough to decide?”

  “He’d say it isn’t becoming of you to chase after a beau.”

  Doubtless Mamma was right. Except that Eben Troyer hadn’t been just any beau. Joanna wholly trusted that God had planted this desire in her heart . . . and now she must fulfill it.

  ———

  The cabbie pulled into a long, tree-lined lane. “Here we are, miss.”

  She paid the bill and double-checked the address she’d come to know so well. “Denki,” she said and got out.

  The cab pulled away quickly, and she was left appraising the grand lawns and the Troyer house itself. There was a strange hush surrounding the place as Joanna walked timidly up the lane, carrying her small overnight case. Was it just her imagination, or was her heartbeat audible?