Chapter Nineteen
“. . . Happy birthday, Rosetta, happy birthday to youuuu!”
Rosetta blinked in disbelief. She stopped in the kitchen doorway with the pan of cinnamon rolls she’d taken from the oven, gazing into the crowded dining room. How had her friends from Promise Lodge arrived so early and so quietly without her hearing them?
She’d already greeted their guests from Sugarcreek as they’d come for their early breakfast, and her sisters and the Kuhns had been helping in the kitchen—but she hadn’t expected her neighbors to gather in the dining room at the unthinkable hour of four thirty to celebrate her birthday. The aromas of coffee, cinnamon, and warm eggs filled the air. The buffet table was covered with the muffins, biscuit sandwiches, and fruit salad she’d helped prepare for the Lehmans’ visitors—but the tiered cake in the center stole the show.
Rosetta set down her pan of rolls to look at it. It was three two-layer tiers supported by white pillars—like a wedding cake—and covered with luscious dark chocolate frosting. The upper two tiers were decorated with rainbow sprinkles and fancy pink rosette borders, and more candles than she wanted to count covered the top. Pink writing on the large bottom layer said Happy Birthday to Our Dear Rosetta.
This explains why Mattie was keeping me busy at the oven while everyone else put the food on the table, she realized with a smile.
Phoebe came up to her, smiling impishly. “Happy birthday, Aunt Rosetta. It’s not often we take you by surprise, ain’t so?” With a match, she lit a candle on the edge and used it to light the colorful forest of candles on the top tier. A few folks began calling out.
“Make a wish, Rosetta!”
“Jah, shoot for the moon—make it a gut one!”
“You can’t be as old as all those candles say you are,” Mattie chimed in as she and the other ladies came out of the kitchen.
“Nope, you were born yesterday!” Christine teased, slinging her arm around Rosetta’s shoulders. “But our family wouldn’t have been the same without you, little sister. Now blow out those candles so we can get our chocolate fix from that cake.”
“We made enough for everybody to have a big piece,” Beulah said with a chuckle.
“Because birthday cake is everybody’s favorite breakfast—but mostly because we didn’t think we could keep it hidden until dinnertime,” Ruby added happily.
Gazing at the smiling faces that filled the dining room, Rosetta stepped closer to the table. See there? Nobody here believes thirty-eight is the end of the line, she thought as she inhaled deeply. I wish . . . I believe Truman and I can start again and live happily ever after.
Blowing with all her might, Rosetta extinguished all of the colorful candles with one breath. Loud applause filled the dining room, and Mattie handed her a long serrated knife.
“Cut yourself a big slice of joy, little sister,” she murmured. “Nobody deserves it as much as you do—you and this handsome man behind you.”
Rosetta spun around to find Truman gazing warmly at her, a wrapped box beneath his arm. He’d come here to join her celebration—at this early hour, when it was still dark! She set the knife on the table and reached for him, exhilarated when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her exuberantly.
“More where that came from, honey-girl,” he whispered as he eased away. “I’m hoping you and I can spend the day together. It’s been too long.”
Rosetta’s eyes misted over. Truman was taking the entire day off work to be with her. “Jah, it has,” she murmured. “Let’s—let’s make some plans for happiness today.”
Truman’s face glowed. “It all starts with coffee and chocolate cake. Who knows how it’ll end?”
Overjoyed, Rosetta grasped the knife again. Her heart was pounding. Amazing, hopeful thoughts whirled in her head. And Maria’s out working in her bakery, she noted after another glance at the crowd. Monroe, Amos, and the Kurtz family stood nearby, as did Leola, the Helmuth bunch, and the Peterscheims—including the kids, who appeared sleepy but eager for cake. Even Frances had joined them, with Gloria, Roman, Mary Kate, and baby David. Deborah and Noah stood beside Lester, smiling at her.
Ruby was removing the top two cake tiers, along with the white plastic pillars. “There—we can start with the bottom, because it’s the biggest,” she said. “Cut what you want, Birthday Girl, and then we’ll serve everyone else.”
Rosetta drew the knife through the double-layered cake and then paused. “If you and the girls baked this last night, when did you decorate it?” she asked softly. “My word, you were busy with the funeral meal and then the biscuits and muffins for today’s breakfast, and yet you also made this huge cake?” She sighed, overwhelmed. “Denki, Beulah and Ruby. With all my heart, I appreciate this.”
Beulah shrugged, blinking rapidly. “The older we get, the less sleep we need,” she explained quickly. “For you, Rosetta, we were happy to fuss over this cake. You gave us a chance at a whole new adventure—at our age!—and we love you for it.”
“Jah, you set us free from a lifetime of herding our unruly nieces and nephews—in a house with just one bathroom,” Ruby put in gratefully. “Making you a cake is the least we can do, Rosetta. You go, girl!”
You go, girl. What other advice—or affirmation—do you need?
Rosetta cut a very large piece of the cake for Truman, and then helped herself to one that was only slightly smaller . . . probably five inches around the round outer edge.
Laura came to the table then, carrying gallon containers of strawberry and Butter Brickle ice cream. “Wouldn’t be right to have birthday cake without ice cream. Happy birthday, Aunt Rosetta,” she said cheerfully. She set the ice cream on the table and pulled two scoops from her apron pocket. “Take big scoops. When will you ever eat ice cream for breakfast again?”
Rosetta laughed and placed a large scoop of each flavor on her plate and Truman’s. She felt indulgent and pampered, and when Truman met her with two steaming mugs of coffee, they made their way to a table in the back corner. The white tablecloths from the funeral meal had been shaken and put back on, and bowls of colorful hard candies had been placed in their centers, along with birthday napkins, sugar bowls, and small pitchers of cream.
“This is quite a treat,” Truman said, pulling out a chair for her. “Well worth coming over before dawn.”
Rosetta sat down, feeling like a young girl—a guest of honor. “I’m sorry your mamm didn’t come. It’s been a long while since I’ve seen her.”
Truman forked up a big bite of chocolate cake. “She sends her birthday wishes and hopes you’ll understand about her staying in her warm bed to sleep.” He closed his mouth over the cake and let out a groan. “Oh . . . wow. Now this is chocolate cake.”
Rosetta was also savoring the exquisite richness of a bite of cake with its creamy mocha frosting. “Mmm. The Kuhns outdid themselves.” She glanced at Truman. “I hope your mother’s recovered from her trip to the hospital?”
“Jah, she’s up and around. I suspect she’s being more careful than she needs to be, but better safe than sorry.”
Rosetta felt awkward asking, but it was the only way to find out. “So, what exactly was wrong? I—I was going to go see her, but when Maria answered the phone, I figured—”
“Don’t think for a minute that something’s going on between me and Maria.” Truman gazed intently at her, leaning closer. “I love you, Rosetta. Sometimes Maria gets a little carried away, but her heart’s in the right place.”
When he took her hand between his, Rosetta felt stupid for assuming that pretty, blond Maria had wormed her way into Truman’s heart. She nodded, unable to speak.
“Mamm had an episode with her heart, and she was also coming down with a bad case of the flu,” he explained. “She’d love to see you anytime—matter of fact, when I told her Monroe was going to marry us, Mamm was ecstatic. I’ve never seen her happier.”
Rosetta held her breath. Her shoulders relaxed and the resentment she’d harbored for Maria dissipa
ted like the steam coming from her coffee mug. “Let’s visit with her sometime today, all right?”
“We can do that.” He reached for the gift he’d set on the table. “She sent you this for your birthday, and I have a little something for you later. Go ahead—open it.”
Rosetta pushed back her plate. The box was about the size of a shirt box but a little deeper, and as she ripped off the rainbow-striped paper, butterflies fluttered in her stomach. When she lifted the lid, her eyes widened. “What’s this?” she whispered as she lifted something made of delicate white organdy. “An apron! With beautiful white roses stitched across it.” She gazed at Truman. “This is way too beautiful for working in the kitchen—”
“So wear it on our wedding day,” he said softly. “Mamm made the apron and did the embroidery just for you, Rosetta.”
Rosetta gaped as she held it up. “Here, take it so I don’t get cake on it,” she said in a tiny voice. In the bottom of the box was a length of blue fabric that made her think of the Blue Willow dishes her mother had kept for special occasions.
“For your wedding dress,” Truman explained. “Mamm wasn’t sure about your size, but she knows you or your sisters can make it to fit the way it’s supposed to. I chose the color, thinking the deeper blue would suit your pretty complexion better than a pale shade.”
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Oh, Truman. Denki from the bottom of my heart.”
He gently folded the organdy apron and laid it back in the box on top of the blue fabric. When he leaned forward to take her hands, the expression on his handsome face took Rosetta’s breath away. “I don’t think your heart has a bottom, sweetheart,” he whispered. “From what I can tell, you have an infinite capacity for love and understanding. I’m a lucky man to have you for a bride.”
Rosetta swallowed hard. Why had she ever doubted Truman’s intentions? “When?”
Truman stroked her hands with his thumbs. “A week from today? That’ll be March twenty-ninth.”
Rosetta’s thoughts raced, yet when she realized that they were still surrounded by guests, family, and friends—and the evidence of the Kuhns’ time in the kitchen—she made a quick decision. “How about in two weeks? That will give us time to catch our breath from having so much company. You know Ruby and Beulah will want to go all out with the cake and the meal.”
Truman did some mental calculating. “April fifth, then. Let’s do it!”
“Jah, let’s do it,” Rosetta repeated. Her voice sounded high and tight with excitement, but it didn’t seem to matter to Truman.
He stood up, still clasping her hand. “Let’s get ourselves on the bishop’s calendar right now. That way, everybody will know to save the date.”
Rosetta followed him between the tables, returning the smiles of everyone around her as they approached Monroe. He was seated with Christine and the Lehman family, talking quietly with them as they ate their cake and ice cream. He turned when Truman grasped his shoulder.
“Truman and his birthday girl,” Monroe said with a knowing smile. “And what can I do for you two?”
“April fifth,” Truman declared.
Rosetta nodded ecstatically, gazing around the crowded dining room. “It’s official!” she blurted out. “We’re getting married two weeks from today, and of course you’re all invited!”
Applause filled the dining room, and people stood up to congratulate them. Christine and Mattie rushed to Rosetta’s side to hug her hard.
“See there?” Christine whispered. “I knew Truman was still your man.”
“Jah, and he’s a keeper, too,” Mattie said, blinking back tears. “Oh, but I wish Mamm and Dat were here to celebrate with us. We’ll do it up right, though. Only the best for you, Rosetta, after you’ve waited so long.”
Rosetta blinked back tears of joy. It wasn’t yet five in the morning, and she’d already celebrated the best birthday of her life.
A half hour later the guests from Sugarcreek were boarding their big bus for the ten-hour ride back to Ohio. As the vehicle pulled down the road toward the county highway, Lester let out a sigh. “Might be the last time I see those folks,” he murmured. “But moving on—moving here—is the right thing for me. Guess it’s time to unload that truck that’s parked alongside my barn.”
Rosetta slipped an arm around Lester’s shoulders. He looked so droopy and sad, and she knew better than to try to cheer him up while his wife, son, and brother’s funerals still felt so fresh to him. “How about if a bunch of us women give your place a gut cleaning?” she asked.
“I second that suggestion, because I wasn’t the tidiest housekeeper while you were away,” Monroe said, smiling at Lester. “Then the men can help you carry your furniture inside. I really appreciate you letting me bunk at your place, Lester.”
Lester managed a smile. “I was glad somebody could make use of that nice new house. By the looks of your place up the hill, Bishop, it won’t be long before you can move in.”
“That’s the plan. When my barns are ready, I’ll be heading back to Illinois for my Clydesdales,” Monroe said. “I’ve kept awfully busy helping build my place and the buildings that belong to Amos’s kids, but I’m looking forward to working my horses again.”
Truman came over and shook Lester’s hand. Then he smiled at Rosetta. “If a lot of us help clean and carry furniture for Lester, you and I can still have the rest of the day to ourselves—if that suits you,” he added.
Rosetta nodded. “Your plan trumps any I had. I think we women will all welcome the work at Lester’s place as something different from cooking for so many people.”
“You’ve got that right!” Ruby said. “Beulah and I will help you this morning—because many hands make light work—and we’ll catch up on our cheese making this afternoon.”
Lester nodded. “Can’t thank you folks enough for all your help,” he said quietly. “It’ll feel gut to be putting siding on your new houses and installing your windows—and building up the business again. You friends are my reason to keep putting one foot in front of the other.”
In a couple of hours the women were hanging fresh towels in Lester’s bathrooms and saying how nice the place looked after they’d scrubbed and dusted. The men made short work of carrying furniture to the upstairs bedrooms and arranging another sofa and some chairs in the sparsely furnished front room. They waved good-bye to the English man who’d driven the moving van, and then they loaded Christine’s old kitchen set into a wagon, along with the bedroom furniture Lester had borrowed from Mattie when he’d first come to Promise Lodge.
Lester looked around, seeming reluctant for everyone to leave. “This’ll take some getting used to, seeing all the furniture Delores picked out in this house she’s never going to live in,” he said with a ragged sigh. “But I’ll make it work somehow.”
“Come over anytime you like—eat your meals with us,” Frances insisted, smiling sadly. “Gloria and I will welcome the company.”
“It’ll give us a reason to eat something besides sandwiches,” Gloria put in. “We’ve had a lot of grilled cheese since Dat passed.”
Rosetta and the others wished Lester well, and they all dispersed to their own homes and pursuits—which meant the Kuhns and Christine were returning to the lodge. Some of the men headed to the Helmuth property to finish roofing the house, while the younger fellows planned to cut up the maple tree and the lilac bush that lay at the roadside. Queenie was keeping pace, her tongue lolling as she ran loops around everyone.
When a familiar hand enfolded hers as the crowd walked along, Rosetta smiled at Truman. “I’m glad we all helped Lester get settled,” she said. “It’s got to be tough, living alone in the home he’d planned to share with his wife and three kids.”
“I’ve got some leads on siding and window jobs for him,” Truman said quietly. “When I mentioned the Lehmans’ business to the manager who’s building those townhomes I’m landscaping, he seemed very interested in having an additional fellow to do that sort
of work—especially since Lester’s Amish. You folks are known for your careful craftsmanship.”
“We appreciate that, Truman,” Amos said from behind them. “We haven’t heard from any folks lately who want to come here, so once my kids’ buildings and Monroe’s are finished, Lester will welcome the work.”
“I’ll give him a ride, too,” Truman said, “because I’ll soon be heading that direction myself, to start my landscaping jobs. Before you know it, this snow will be gone and we’ll be planting our gardens.”
Rosetta inhaled deeply. They’d almost reached the lodge—and Maria’s bakery—where rich aromas of spice, sugar, and pastry hung in the air. “Why is it that even after I ate that huge piece of chocolate cake, the smell of somebody else’s baking is making me hungry?” she murmured.
Allen Troyer broke away from the crowd, along with Cyrus and Jonathan Helmuth. “Let’s give Maria some business before we cut up that tree,” he said to his pals. “After I hooked up her water and electricity, she said she’d pay me with goodies.”
Cyrus let out a laugh. “You sure we won’t be interrupting anything, Troyer?”
“Jah, the way you’re talking, those goodies could include a lot more than doughnuts,” Jonathan teased.
Allen waved off his companions as they strode toward the bakery. “Suit yourselves. But Maria did mention that she’s really into guys wearing boots and tool belts.”
Cyrus elbowed his brother. “We can wear our tools next time. Might as well check her out to see if she’s worth our attention.”
Truman laughed, still clasping Rosetta’s hand. “It’ll do Maria gut to have some eager young fellows paying attention to her,” he remarked. “In Cloverdale she was so busy looking after her sister and keeping her bakery going, she didn’t have much time to socialize.”
“I suspect Gloria will give Maria some competition,” Rosetta said. “She may be mourning her dat, but she’s had her eye on Allen from the moment she met him.”
“It was the same the first time I saw you,” he said in a husky voice. He held her gaze for a long, lovely moment. “Shall we visit with Mamm for a bit, maybe have lunch with her before we leave? You’ve got some shopping to do.”
Weddings at Promise Lodge Page 18