Where Love Grows

by Jerry S. Eicher

  “So this is why you risked so much for Teresa? You understood her pain?”

  “Yah…but I also love her as my own daughter. This is not a feeling I made up.”

  “I believe you.” She stroked his arm. “In a way, I’m glad I didn’t know of this before I was old. I have come to know your heart by now.

  “After all these years, Da Hah has had compassion on you, and I can do no less, Menno. And this took place so many years ago. We will bear this burden together.”

  “I’m so sorry. Would you have wed me if you had known?”

  “Perhaps.” She met his eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve been a wonderful frau, Anna. You are everything I could have hoped for. I have no regrets about our love and life together.”

  “You loved her, this other woman?”

  “Yah, I cannot say I did not love her. But it was a long time ago. And my heart couldn’t live in her world nor would she follow me back into my world. We parted in sorrow. It was a thing that could not be.”

  “If you were a young man and I a young woman, Menno, we would have ourselves a gut fight over this. And perhaps we will after Teresa’s wedding. But for now, I will comfort myself in knowing that this explains something I’ve often wondered about you. There always was a sorrow that hung on you the days after each of our children were born. Daughters all of them. Were you hoping for a son, Menno?”

  “Perhaps.” He looked away. “But I am satisfied with what Da Hah gave. I was always thinking of what the other might have been. Asking what if the child had been born.”

  “You’ve been a gut man and a gut husband, Menno.” She wrapped her arms around him. “Even though you’ve sinned, you’ve lived honorably since then.”

  “And it was a great sin.” He spoke into the top of her hair, the length of his beard falling over her shoulder.

  “It was, but so was Teresa’s, and you forgave her. Welcomed the girl into your home. Promised her a wedding like she was one of your own daughters. If you can forgive Teresa, then I can forgive you.”

  Menno smiled as tears ran down his face.

  “You’re a wonderful woman, Anna. Da Hah has blessed me greatly.”

  Anna pushed him away. “Now, I have to get dressed before someone finds me still in bed. And you have a letter to write. You must write to this Donald…to your son.”

  “Oh, Anna! I knew you would know what to do. It will be a much better day now. I’m so sorry I didn’t confide in you before.”

  “It may have been for the best, Menno. So let’s not question the timing of Da Hah in bringing this to light now. He knows what is best for us and when. I’m comforted that you have finally told me.”

  Menno got up and walked out into the living room, leaving the lamp behind. The first streaks of dawn were in the sky, sending a soft glow through the window. He lit another kerosene lamp and sat down at the desk. He had a child in the Englisha world. A son. And now it was time to write him a letter.

  Dear Son,

  Christian greetings, though I don’t have much claim to call myself a Christian with how I handled the situation with Carol, your mother. I hope you can forgive me. I assure you that I did not know about you until she wrote to me just a few days ago.

  Your mother was not to blame for bearing you out of wedlock. I was the one who wronged her and pushed her into this situation before you were born. She was a good person, and I’m sure Da Hah will meet her with mercy on the other side, even as I hope that mercy will be granted to us.

  You are welcome to visit me anytime you wish. My wife, Anna, has been told about you, and she holds no ill will toward you. It would be with great joy that I behold your face. If you’re not comfortable visiting at my home or if you would rather we meet someplace else, then Anna and I will gladly consider such a trip.

  On my part, I do not wish to leave this world without seeing you.

  Humbly, your father,

  Menno Hostetler

  Menno addressed an envelope, folded the letter, and slid it inside. He placed a stamp on the outside. Rising, he picked up the letter, found his way into the mudroom, and lit the gas lantern. Squinting, he walked back into the kitchen, setting the light on the kitchen table. Anna walked in, and her smile was soft in the lantern light. This woman loved him. There was no question about that. And he deserved none of her devotion, and yet it was his. It had been his before she knew of his sin, and it remained his now, and it would be so tomorrow and every day thereafter. Swinging the lantern by his side, Menno walked out to the mailbox and slipped the letter inside.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Menno stood by the living room window and watched the dawn brightening into the early morning light. At any moment now buggy wheels would be rolling down the driveway as the cooks would be stopping in for brief instructions before heading on down to Ada’s place where the noon meal would be served.

  And here he was thinking of his son. He had mailed the letter, and now he had to practice patience. This was Teresa’s day, and his tumultuous emotions must be kept out of the way lest he mar her happiness. This was as it should be. Teresa didn’t deserve to suffer because of his sin.

  Behind him he heard the stairway door open and soft steps coming down on the hardwood floor. Menno turned and smiled as he caught sight of Teresa. Her eyes were still sleepy, but she was dressed in her work dress, as if she planned a hard day’s labor.

  “Is Mamm in the kitchen?” Teresa asked.

  He nodded.

  Mamm popped out through the kitchen doorway at the sound of Teresa’s voice. “You’re not helping with breakfast. It’s your wedding day.”

  “I couldn’t sleep. And I want to help. Everybody is doing so much for me.”

  “You can come out to the barn with me,” Menno offered. “I don’t have any work for you, but it will do your nerves gut to get out in the fresh air.”

  Teresa smiled. “I guess it could do me some good. I’m up for it.”

  “Come…” Menno took the gas lantern from its hook, and Teresa followed him outside, the morning sky lighter but the lantern light still erasing some shadows. They crossed the lawn, and Menno pushed open the double barn doors, exposing the rows and rows of benches they had set up yesterday along with the tables set up at Ada’s place. In the back, the horses nickered, their hooves rustling the straw in their stalls.

  “It’s going to happen right here, Teresa.” Menno waved his hand about. “Yah, right here in a few hours you will be seated. And in a few more hours you will say the marriage vows with James.”

  Teresa stared in silence, her face glowing.

  “Do you like how everything is arranged? Steve and I finished around midnight.”

  “How could I not like it? It’s perfect. I can never thank you enough, Daett. All of you—Mamm, Susan, Steve, and everyone…for all you’ve done for me.”

  “And we can never thank you for what your life has brought to us,” Menno said. “Remember, Teresa, none of us are islands in the sea. We all touch each other, and the gut effects from our lives go on and on.”

  “I still thank you,” Teresa said. “Besides my mom, you are my family now.”

  “Yah, and we want you to always feel that way,” he said. “We want you to come home for visits just like any of our other daughters whenever you wish.”

  “Oh, Daett! Truly Da Hah has given me the father I never had.” Teresa threw her arms around his neck and pulled until he lowered his head. She kissed him on his cheek.

  He laughed. “And now, my daughter, I must take care of the horses before the cooks arrive. It’s going to be a very busy day, believe me.”

  Teresa gave Menno another kiss on the cheek and then turned and ran back toward the house.

  Before Teresa disappeared inside, a buggy came rattling into the lane. Menno walked out to help the first cook unhitch. Before he finished tying up the first horse, two more buggies were waiting. The rush didn’t slow for another hour. And his breakfast was little more than gulping o
f food in the kitchen and racing right back out again. Menno found himself standing in the field, helping unhitch horses from a long line of buggies that were flooding into the field. Teresa might not have been born Amish, he thought, but she was clearly fully accepted in the community. This was a credit to her even above the fact that she was marrying James, the deacon’s son.

  “Gut morning,” several boys greeted him, coming up to offer their help.

  “Gut morning,” Menno replied.

  “We’ll take over now,” one of them said with a smile. “We can’t have the man of the house working on the day of the wedding.”

  “Ah!” Menno laughed along with them. “Then I’ll go catch my breath over by the barn.”

  While the boys gathered around the next buggy, Menno walked across the pasture, stopping to check the line of horses tied along the fence. There was still room in this section, he decided, but the space was filling fast. Along the barn a few other drivers had tied their horses. They stood contented enough for now, but they might have to be moved later in case they started making noise during the service. He would move them now, Menno decided. Even a momentary banging of a horse bumping against the barn siding or a squeal of a horse squabble was something Teresa shouldn’t have to deal with on her wedding day.

  “I need some help!” he hollered to Ada’s boy, Duane, who was standing with his friends in the barnyard. Steve stuck his head out of the barn at the same moment. Duane, his friends, and Steve all headed toward Menno.

  “What do you need, Dawdy?” Duane asked.

  “These horses should be moved down to the fence behind the barn,” Menno told them.

  They nodded, each grabbing a tie rope and leading a horse away.

  “Anything I can do?” Steve offered.

  “Not unless you want to do women’s work in the house,” Menno said with a laugh.

  “I think I’ll leave that to the women.” Steve joined in the laughter as they walked over to the line of men gathered in front of the barn.

  It was time he relaxed, Menno told himself. He shook a few hands when they arrived. The younger generation could take on the rest of the morning’s duties. Before long Susan’s wedding day would come, and all his daughters would be married off. Then he could settle down in a dawdy haus between here and Ada’s place. What an easy life that would be. No more rising before the sun was up and thinking about farm troubles. All he would have to do was stop by the farm to offer Thomas advice. And maybe help out with the little things. A smile spread across Menno’s face as he continued to greet arriving guests and shake hands with the men. Moments later Deacon Ray came out of the barn and whispered in his ear.

  “Are you expecting any Englisha visitors today?”

  “Not that I know of,” Menno said. “Except for Teresa’s mother, of course.”

  “Well…” Deacon Ray stroked his beard. “There was a fellow came by my place yesterday, asking where a Menno Hostetler lived. Did he stop by here?”

  Menno shook his head. “How does he know me? Did he say?”

  “He seemed to know you, but he didn’t say much. Asked if you had worked in a St. Louis hospital during the war. What would that be about, do you think?”

  Menno tried to ignore the jolt he felt. Surely this wasn’t his…son! “How old was he, do you think?”

  “Forties somewhere, I’d say. I told him you were in the middle of wedding preparations. But that he should stop by if he wanted to speak with you. I gave him directions to your place.”

  “Did he say what his name was?”

  “Dennis…Dennis White, I think.”

  Menno looked away as he shook another hand held out to him. The Englisha man wasn’t his son. The name was wrong. Besides, he had just written his letter this morning. It still waited for the postman to pick it up.

  Behind Menno more buggies poured into the yard, stopping by the house for the women to climb out. As they made their way into the house, the men drove the buggies into the field. Menno forced himself to think of something other than an Englisha man asking for him. He should be helping somewhere instead of dwelling on his worried thoughts.

  Minutes later, a dark-colored car pulled in and parked beside the long-distance vans. This was not a relative of James’s coming in from out of state, Menno decided. None of them would hire a car in which to travel. And Teresa hadn’t mentioned having any family other than her mamm. Menno watched as a man in a dark suit got out and looked about the yard. Pain returned to his stomach.

  “That’s the Englisha fellow,” Deacon Ray said, poking Menno in the ribs and nodding toward the car.

  Menno jumped. “Did you invite him to the wedding?”

  “I guess he could have taken it that way,” Deacon Ray said. “You’re giving the wedding, perhaps you ought to make him feel welcome.”

  Menno took a deep breath and walked across the lawn. What was he to say? What if this man was his son? “Good morning,” Menno said when he was near the man. He offered his hand. “I’m Menno Hostetler.”

  The man met his eyes as a smile spread across his face.

  “I’m Dennis White. I hope I’m not intruding.”

  “Of course not.” Menno swallowed hard. “I believe you met Deacon Ray the other day. He’s the father of the groom.”

  “I believe so.” Dennis glanced over at the fast-approaching Deacon Ray. “I also wanted to speak with you. A little research I’m doing on the Amish. Hopefully we can talk after the wedding, if that’s okay. I wasn’t quite sure how to do this. I only arrived here yesterday, and then I found that a wedding was taking place this morning. I hope I’m not intruding.”

  “I understand,” Menno told him. “And you’re welcome to stay.”

  “Well, hello, hello!” Deacon Ray interrupted, coming up to offer his hand in greeting. “I see you made it.”

  “Yes, and thanks for the information yesterday.” Dennis offered a smile. “Will I get to see a real Amish wedding?”

  “Yah,” Deacon Ray said. “My son’s wedding!”

  “And you’re the father of the bride, is that right?” Dennis asked Menno.

  “I claim her as my daughter, yah,” Menno agreed.

  “As part of my research on the Amish, I’d certainly enjoy witnessing an Amish wedding. Do you mind?”

  Deacon Ray laughed. “Observe all you wish. We’re different on the outside, yah, but the same on the inside. We have lunch afterward, so don’t forget to stay for that.”

  “That’s kind of you, sir. I certainly will.”

  “Come!” Menno motioned with his hand. “The service begins soon.”

  Dennis followed Menno back to the barn. Already Bishop Henry was leading the line of men into the barn.

  “Just follow me,” Menno told Dennis.

  The Englisha man stayed close as they moved down the tight rows of benches and found places to sit. They were no sooner seated than the washroom door opened and a line of women appeared and walked toward the barn. Behind them came a line of unmarried girls. Finally, when everyone else was seated, the wedding party came out.

  Thomas and Susan were in the lead, with Teresa and James following behind them. They were followed by James’s cousin Ben and his girlfriend, Mary.

  Menno held still, wild thoughts racing through his head. Who was this man sitting beside him really? Could he be his son? But it couldn’t be. It couldn’t happen just like that.

  “Was the girl in the lead your daughter?” Dennis leaned over to whisper.

  “Yah…” Menno jumped on the bench. “Susan.”

  In front of them the wedding party paused, waiting. The boys stood, facing the girls on the other side. Only when James began to sit down did the others follow. When all were seated someone shouted out a song number, and the singing began.

  Menno watched the Englisha man out of the corner of his eye. He seemed to be soaking in every sight and sound. His eyes watched the ministers as they filed in towards the house, followed by James and Teresa.

  �
��They’re going in the house for some last-minute marriage counseling,” Menno whispered above the sound of singing.

  Dennis smiled. “Nowadays everyone can use that.”

  Menno smiled at the comment. He shared the songbook with the Englisha man as the singing continued. Deacon Ray acted strange this morning, Menno thought. Did he suspect anything about his past? But how could he? After all, Deacon Ray had been there with him in St. Louis during those days, and he hadn’t known about Carol. Menno settled on the bench, letting the memories from those days return.

  Deacon Ray and he had both served their alternative service in St. Louis, their time overlapping by a few months. Deacon Ray hadn’t been a deacon back then. He was simply a homesick boy who went out a few times with the sister of a boy Ray was friends with at the hospital. Menno wasn’t supposed to know that, just as Ray wasn’t supposed to know about Carol. Likely Ray had never found out his secret, let alone how deeply he had been involved with Carol. If Ray had known, he would have assumed it was the same innocent flirting with the world he himself was involved in. So he must be imagining things, Menno decided. Guilt was that way. It drove a man to extremes, forcing him to flee shadows when they were but tree limbs moving in the moonlight. Menno glanced over at Dennis. He was watching Teresa and James coming back across the lawn, walking side-by-side, smiling at each other, seemingly oblivious to all the people in the barn who were watching them.

  “They’re a sweet couple,” Dennis whispered.

  Menno nodded. Teresa and James were a sweet couple.

  The two took their seats as another song number was given out. The music ended minutes later when the ministers appeared and walked single file across the lawn. They took their seats. Then the first minister stood and gave his sermon. He spoke in hushed tones of the great love Da Hah had for mankind. How that love is lived out in the relationship between husband and wife. How all should go home after the services and practice the love of Da Hah with their family members.

  With the sermon ended, the Scriptures were read. Bishop Henry rose. He told the story of Abraham sending his servant to find a wife for Isaac. At the well, the servant had prayed that Da Hah would reveal to him in a special way which girl was to be the chosen woman for Isaac. Da Hah had shown His will, moving Rebecca to offer water for all the camels. This was no small task, Bishop Henry said, and was an example to all that Da Hah loved those who were willing to aid others, whether they were men or women.