Weddings at Promise Lodge

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Christine laughed. “You’ve obviously never had daughters,” she said. “Laura and Phoebe are polite enough not to let on, but I suspect they sometimes feel embarrassed by what their mother says and does just because younger generations do that. No matter what you and I do, they’ll have their opinions. All of the young people—and even the kids—already have their ideas about us, Monroe.”

  “True enough. A bishop has a house like everybody else, but he really lives in a fishbowl.”

  Christine gazed out over the white lawns of Noah and Roman Schwartz’s new homes. Beyond them, Rainbow Lake and the orchard looked especially pretty in the bright sunshine. She wondered what else she should say about Phoebe, who was twenty, and Laura, who was seventeen—but she wouldn’t let on that her daughters already quizzed her and teased her about her very fast, very obvious relationship with Monroe.

  “And speaking of bishops and young girls,” Monroe said as they started up the hill, “what’s the story about Mary Kate Lehman? I don’t know Floyd well. He’s surely different from when he was a healthy man, but I’m surprised he allowed his unmarried daughter to keep her baby.”

  Christine smiled as she recalled the day Floyd and Frances Lehman had come to Promise Lodge. “Floyd proclaimed himself our bishop the moment he arrived,” she recounted. “My sisters and I were concerned that he would be no more considerate of women than our bishop in Coldstream had been—until Frances confided that he’d come to Promise Lodge so Mary Kate could have her baby without all the hullaballoo his church members out East would raise. She was . . . overpowered by an English man who left her in the ditch down the road from their home.”

  “Oh, my,” Monroe murmured. “She seems like a sweet girl. And she’s a very attentive mother to baby David.”

  “Don’t be surprised when Roman speaks to you about marrying the two of them. Gloria Lehman was in hot pursuit of him, but he only had eyes for Mary Kate—and he even helped her when she was birthing the baby.”

  Monroe’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at Christine. “And Floyd allowed that? Was he somewhere else when this was going on?”

  Christine smiled. She didn’t feel nearly as shy while talking about other people’s dramas. “He was home, but very disoriented from his fall. Frances and Minerva Kurtz, our midwife, saw the benefit of having Roman present while Mary Kate was struggling with her long labor,” she explained. “As you can see, we’re more liberal than a lot of Plain settlements. But we insist on propriety and we follow our bishop and preachers as we live lives that honor God.”

  Monroe considered her response as Clyde pulled them past Floyd and Lester Lehman’s tall white houses. When he’d driven them beyond Preacher Marlin’s home and barrel factory, he slowed the Clydesdale to a halt. “I’ve had some time to think this week while I’ve been staying at Lester’s place,” he murmured. “Amos showed me a map of the Promise Lodge property and pretty much told me I had to build on this end of the settlement. Any idea why he’s being so distant with me? When he’s around other folks, Amos seems easygoing and very personable.”

  Although her sisters had hinted about Amos’s reservations concerning Monroe’s unannounced arrival on Christmas Eve, Christine didn’t want to ruin this wonderful moment talking about something she wasn’t sure about—or anything potentially unpleasant. “You’ll have to ask Amos about that,” she hedged. “Most of the property near the entrance to Promise Lodge has already been purchased, and now that the Helmuths will be building their nursery and greenhouses on plots along the county highway, this end of our settlement is all that’s open.”

  Monroe’s smile told Christine he sensed she wasn’t telling him everything. “What if I wanted some property beyond the orchard and the lake—behind the Peterscheim place where Preacher Eli has built his forge?”

  “Ah. The Peterscheim property butts up against Truman Wickey’s land,” she replied. “And the pasture behind the dairy barn is mine, where my Holsteins graze.”

  “Such a woman of means, you are, Christine,” he said lightly. “To me, this is the most amazing thing about Promise Lodge—how you and your sisters purchased the abandoned church camp and started up your own businesses. Where I come from, Amish women don’t do that!”

  “Welcome to Promise Lodge,” Christine teased. “It was an advantage we had as two widows and a maidel, who had no men remaining in our family to take us in—not that we wanted to be under a man’s roof or rule, anyway. So Mattie operates a produce stand, Rosetta runs the lodge and rents apartments to other unattached Plain women, and I moved my dairy herd here. Roman manages it for me, so I don’t do the milking or the mucking out anymore.”

  Monroe was gazing at her, following her every word. “Maybe you want no part of my attentions, then,” he speculated—not that he sounded worried. “Seems to me you three sisters believe you can run your businesses—and your lives—without any male involvement. Makes me wonder what’ll happen to Mattie’s produce business now that she’s married Preacher Amos.”

  Christine laughed. “Amos knew when he came here that we women intended to pursue our own paths and support ourselves. Constructing new houses and his sons-in-laws’ greenhouses will keep him very busy this spring, while Mattie will be planting her crops. I predict their marriage will be more of an equal partnership than most Amish couples share.”

  “Meaning that Amos won’t have the upper hand and make all the decisions?”

  Christine shook her head, holding his gaze. “Consider yourself warned, Monroe,” she said lightly, although she meant every word. “Don’t think that as our new bishop, you can force us independent women to revert to the subservience most Old Order churches believe is the role women are born to. And we do not tolerate spousal abuse. Just saying.”

  Monroe’s laughter filled the crisp air around them. He slipped his arm around Christine’s shoulders and hugged her. “I don’t think you could make your point any clearer, dear—although in most Amish colonies, you’d get a stern lecture from the bishop for saying such a thing. But tell me this.” He paused, pondering his next words carefully. “If—if—you and I were to marry, would you become a stay-at-home wife and mother when our children started arriving?”

  Christine inhaled sharply, easing out of his embrace so she could study his face. “I—I don’t have an answer for that,” she murmured, suddenly nervous. What if she said the wrong thing and Monroe wanted nothing more to do with her? “I believe we’d have to work that out between us. But tell me something, Bishop.”

  She sat up taller, willing herself not to flinch or burst into tears if he didn’t say what she wanted to hear. It was awfully soon to be discussing such personal matters, but maybe it was better to have his answer now, before their hearts and lives became further entangled.

  After several moments of silence, Monroe lowered his face until their noses nearly touched. “What’s your question, Christine?” he whispered.

  Christine swallowed hard. “What . . . what if there are no babies? Maybe you should know that because of complications when Laura was born, I—I’m unable to have any more children. So if you’d rather take up with someone else—”

  “Christine. Christine,” he murmured as he drew her into his embrace. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass—”

  “I thought you should know now rather than later.”

  “I appreciate your honesty.” With a sigh, Monroe thumbed a tear from her cheek. “You’ve bared your soul, so it’s my turn. My wife, Linda, Lord bless her, wasn’t able to carry a baby to term,” he said in a voice that had a hitch in it. “When she passed, she was almost six months along with our fourth child—we had such hope for a healthy baby—but complications developed. She . . . she was so determined not to lose the baby that she didn’t tell me she was bleeding. I didn’t know I should’ve called the midwife or rushed her to the hospital until it was too late.”

  Christine’s heart shriveled. She knew how this story ended, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. “
I’m so sorry, Monroe,” she whispered.

  He shook his head, as though to release the memories that still plagued him. “When I got home from a meeting with my preachers, Linda was unconscious on the kitchen floor,” he continued with a sigh. “She’d lost too much blood. The paramedics—and the emergency room doctor—couldn’t save her. The chord was tight around the baby’s neck, so we lost her, as well.”

  Christine wound her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. For several moments they sat in silence, allowing Monroe’s grief to subside. She felt bad for him, but she still had to wonder if he would prefer to court a woman who could give him the family he longed for. It was a question she couldn’t bear to ask.

  With a sigh, Monroe placed his hand over hers and then gently kissed her cheek. Christine shivered with a jolt of awareness. She wanted to continue this new relationship—did she dare call it love already?—but she didn’t want to get her hopes up until he answered her question.

  Monroe cleared his throat, resting his forehead against hers. “Maybe we should get out and walk around,” he said hoarsely. “I had some other matters to discuss before we wandered into the topic of making babies—and on that note, I need to put some space between us before things get entirely out of hand. Even though I’d like that,” he added with a chuckle. “Know what I’m saying?”

  Christine’s face prickled with heat, yet she felt like a desirable woman—the opposite of a lonely widow. “Jah, I think I do,” she replied as she eased out of his arms to get out on her side of the sleigh. “You were talking about where you were going to buy your land and build your home and barns, as I recall—unless you’ve changed your mind about staying here as our bishop, knowing what an unruly bunch we Bender sisters are.”

  Monroe’s laughter rang through the evergreens on this part of the property. He got out of the sleigh and gazed around. “Maybe Amos was doing me a favor, telling me to settle on this end,” he murmured, shading his eyes with his hand. “What a view! If I put my house on this hill, I could see the lodge and the lake and everyone’s homes—and my horses wouldn’t be disturbed by incoming traffic.”

  Christine smiled. “You could be king of the hill,” she teased. Then she turned to look at the woods behind them. “I’ve not been up here before, but I recall Mattie saying the county highway’s on the other side of these woods. It forms the boundary of the property.”

  “And look over this way,” Monroe said as he walked several feet to their right. “The trees are a natural barrier between the road and this valley below us. I’d have to do a lot of seeding and fencing to turn it into a good pasture— but then, I might have to do that wherever I choose to buy land,” he mused aloud.

  Christine walked over to stand beside him, her eyes widening. “Oh my, I had no idea what this part of the property looked like. I bet it’ll be beautiful this spring when all the trees get their leaves,” she said, pointing ahead of them. “Can’t you just imagine your Clydesdales grazing on this ground over here—with your barns on this side, and your house right here on this rise?”

  “I can see everything just as you’re describing it, sweetheart,” he whispered as he slipped his arm around her shoulders. “It’s the picture of horse farm heaven—and I’m hoping you’ll be my angel in residence.”

  Christine’s mouth dropped open. “Are you sure you want—even if we’ll have no children to—”

  Monroe punctuated her sentence with a soft kiss. “I want,” he replied. His face was shaded by his wide-brimmed black hat, but his eyes shone warmly as he gazed at her.

  When he pulled her close for a kiss that lingered on and on, Christine felt the world spinning around her—but rather than feeling disoriented or rushed, she had the sense that her life was coming together again. She hadn’t kissed a man since her Willis had died when their barn burned down. She was suddenly aware of the void she’d been living in—and that Monroe was putting the past two years of emotional isolation behind her. When Christine slipped her arms around his neck, she reveled in how tall and sturdy and strong Monroe was, a fitting man to train the huge horses with which he made his living.

  A man who knows me, yet wants me anyway.

  With a sigh, she relaxed in his embrace and accepted delectable kisses as soft as butterfly wings.

  “Two little lovebirds sitting in a tree,” a familiar female voice called out behind them.

  “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” her male companion joined in.

  With a sigh, Monroe straightened to his full height and allowed Christine to ease away from him. She knew her face was flushed and she probably appeared guilty—but at least it was Rosetta and Truman who had caught them kissing, instead of some of the kids. “Don’t you two have anything better to do than follow us around?” she demanded playfully.

  Truman chuckled. He was clasping Rosetta’s gloved hand, appearing every bit as happy as Christine felt. “Sorry we interrupted you,” he began, “but we have a pressing question to ask Bishop Monroe—”

  “And Mattie’s wedding seemed like a fitting time to discuss our situation, now that Monroe’s been at Promise Lodge long enough to understand what he’s getting into,” Rosetta put in breezily.

  “Jah, I understand that the women here are determined to do things their way,” Monroe remarked. “But I’m happy to answer your question—and happy to be here. Christine and I have just decided where I’ll build my house and the barns.”

  “Congratulations,” Truman said, extending his hand. As Monroe shook with him, Christine said a quick prayer on behalf of her sister and the man she loved so much.

  “Rosetta and I would like to get married,” Truman began, “but my being Mennonite and her being a member of the Old Order Amish church has presented a problem, because her previous bishops haven’t allowed intermarriage. How do you feel about that issue, Monroe?”

  Monroe clasped his hands behind his back, considering his response. “The district I’ve come from in Illinois—near Macomb—is fairly conservative. If we were there, my answer would be an immediate, unquestionable no,” he replied. He gazed from Rosetta to Truman. “Why do you feel compelled to defy the Amish religion and thereby place Rosetta’s soul at risk, possibly denying her the eternal life God has promised to those who have come to Him through our Lord Jesus?”

  Truman didn’t blink. “Rosetta and I have discussed this often and prayed over it ever since we met. I believe the God you and I worship is bigger than any one religion,” he replied firmly. “If I felt I’d be compromising Rosetta’s soul by marrying her, I wouldn’t be here with her now. I’ve offered to join your faith, if that’s the only way we can marry.”

  “As for me,” Rosetta said, “I can’t believe that the God who created me in His image—with His love—would cast me into the fires of hell because I’m defying man-made rules about the way we should worship and believe in Him.”

  Monroe nodded. “Even though your response is awfully progressive for the Old Order, you’ve obviously considered your situation carefully. How do you and Mattie and the others feel about them getting married, Christine?” he asked, turning to her. “Do you anticipate a separation of your family if Rosetta marries a Mennonite? In my former district—and most districts I know of—there would be weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, and the person who married outside the Old Order would be cast away as a lost soul.”

  Christine held his gaze. “If you think Mattie and I will refuse to associate with Rosetta because she marries Truman, you don’t know us very well, Bishop.”

  After what seemed like an endless silence, Monroe cleared his throat. “Many things about Promise Lodge differ greatly from the faith I’ve practiced since I was young,” he began, “but I came here for a fresh start like everyone else. If you two were young, clueless kids, I wouldn’t marry you. But I believe your hearts are sincere in your love for God and for each other, so I’ll be happy to officiate at your wedding—”

  Christine’s heart danced as Rosetta threw herself into Trum
an’s arms and he held her tight.

  “—but that’s not to say we can allow people to come to Promise Lodge just because we’ll let folks of different Plain faiths get married,” Monroe continued firmly. “I also insist that the three preachers agree to let me perform your ceremony. If Amos, Eli, or Marlin disapprove, I won’t override their objections.”

  “Jah, we understand that,” Rosetta said as she swiped tears from her face. She hurried over to give Monroe a big hug. “But at least we’re discussing the possibility of change. I appreciate the way you’ve listened to us instead of shutting us down.”

  “I’m a grateful, happy man,” Truman put in as he shook Monroe’s hand again. “We’ll leave you two to take up where you left off.”

  When Monroe laughed, his dimples came out to play. “You know, all this decision making has me wondering if there’s any pie left in the dining room. How about if you two hop in the backseat of the sleigh and we’ll head over to the lodge to find out.”

  Rosetta smiled impishly at the bishop. “Matter of fact, Christine and I made sure you’d have a selection of desserts when you returned, Bishop Monroe,” she said. “Seems to me we have something else to celebrate now, with pie and chocolate cake—”

  “And maybe wedding cake, if Mattie and Amos have decided it’s time to cut it,” Christine said. She tucked her hand in the crook of Monroe’s elbow. “We need to celebrate every gut and perfect gift God’s brought our way lately. If we put our pasts behind us and focus forward, He’ll show us the way He wants us to go.”

  “Couldn’t have said that better myself,” Monroe remarked as he helped her into the front seat. “Next thing I know, the women here will be preaching sermons and reading Scripture in church, demanding to become preachers and deacons—or the bishop.”