Weddings at Promise Lodge

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Intrigued, Rosetta nodded. As they reached the roadside, she noticed the damage Maria’s movers had done. The large maple tree and the lilac bush rested in the ditch on either side of the entry to the lodge property. One side of Mattie’s U-shaped produce stand had been crushed, and the arched metal sign rested against it. Rosetta was pleased to see that the wooden welcome sign and the slatted produce sign that Noah had painted were still intact.

  “Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that our opening at the road got widened,” she murmured. “If we get a lot of traffic this summer, we might be glad to have room for two lanes of cars—one coming in and one leaving at the same time.”

  “Spoken like the optimist I know you to be, honey-girl,” said Truman. “Before Noah gets started on a new arched metal sign, I’ll see if Monroe wants me to do any roadwork or new plantings at your entry. I think you’re wise to anticipate more traffic this summer.”

  “I think I’m wise to be marrying you, Truman.” The words flew from her mouth before she even thought about them, yet Rosetta felt giddy—positive that this sandy-haired man with the hazel eyes was indeed the man with whom God intended her to make a new life.

  Truman stopped at the edge of the road and pulled her close for a lingering kiss. “I need to do this a lot more often,” he murmured as he eased away from her. “Once we’re on the road this afternoon, I might be pulling over every now and then to show you just how much I love you, Rosetta.”

  * * *

  Late that evening, Rosetta quietly entered the mudroom and hung up her wraps. She smelled cocoa, and she wasn’t surprised to see lamps lit where Leola, the Kuhns, and Christine and her girls sat around one of the tables in the dining room. Leola was embroidering while the other ladies crocheted, and they all looked up as she came through the kitchen.

  “So how was your big day with Truman?” Phoebe quizzed her.

  “You were gone a really long time,” Leola remarked.

  “I hope it was the perfect end to a wonderful-gut birthday for you, dearie,” Ruby said with a smile. “We saved you some cocoa and cookies—”

  “Because we want to hear every little detail about what-all you and Truman did,” Beulah finished.

  Christine flashed Rosetta a knowing smile. “We understand, however, that at thirty-eight, you’re entitled to keep a few things to yourself.”

  Rosetta sat down in a chair and poured some cocoa from the carafe. “First we ate lunch with Irene—”

  “And she’s doing better, I hope?” Christine asked. “I’ve really missed seeing her at our recent gatherings.”

  Rosetta nodded. “Her medications have stabilized her heartbeat and she seems fine now. I suppose you saw the apron she made for me, and the fabric for my wedding dress?”

  “Jah, we put them up on your bed so they’d stay clean,” Laura replied. “It’s so exciting that in two weeks you’ll be marrying Truman—at long last.”

  “But we digress,” Ruby teased. “What’d you do after your lunch at your future home?”

  Rosetta smiled. Maybe all the kissing stops during their truck ride were details she would keep to herself. “Truman took me to three different shops that sell furniture, over in Willow Ridge,” she murmured. “For my wedding gift, he wanted me to pick out a bedroom set—to replace the one he’s had since he was a kid—as well as a larger table for their dining room. He and Irene want enough chairs and table leaves for occasions when my family and friends come over.”

  “What a lovely idea,” Christine said. “And what did you choose?”

  “We went to all three stores before I could make up my mind,” Rosetta replied. “I chose a refurbished walnut bedroom set at Detweiler Furniture Works, and I got the table and chairs in a shop called Simple Gifts. Oh my,” she whispered, “I could’ve come away with several items from that store! But Truman was already paying so much for the furniture that my heart nearly stopped when I did the math.”

  “Might as well let him spoil you,” Beulah said, quickly working her hook and yarn into another row of the striped afghan she was making. “I suspect he didn’t blink an eye at what he was paying. He impresses me as a saver and a gut businessman.”

  “Probably paid cash,” Ruby murmured, concentrating on the square she was crocheting. “And he bought quality furniture to last you a lifetime, instead of cheap stuff.”

  Rosetta’s heart thudded. “He unrolled a big wad of bills and settled up at both stores. Everything’s to be delivered the weekend before the wedding.”

  “That’s so romantic, having new furniture to start your new life,” Phoebe said with a dreamy-eyed sigh.

  “And exciting, too!” Laura put in. “You’ll no more than get your wedding dress made than it’ll be time for the ceremony!”

  Beulah turned her afghan to start a new row, meeting Rosetta’s gaze. “And what’s Truman’s opinion of you keeping the lodge and being our landlady?” she asked quietly. “Not worried about being kicked out. Just wondering about the management.”

  Rosetta nodded. “We talked about that today on our trip,” she replied. “I’ll be living at the Wickey place, of course, but Truman has no objection to me owning and operating the lodge and the cabins. I’ll keep selling my goat’s milk soap, as well.”

  “Glad to hear that!” Ruby exclaimed. “With you and Christine moving out soon, that’ll leave just the two of us sisters and Maria here—and Leola,” she added when she saw the young woman’s head snap up. “We’ll look forward to seeing you when you come over, Rosetta. It’ll be quieter, but it’ll still be our home.”

  “My home, too—until I marry Monroe,” Leola added with a confident nod.

  The room got quiet for a moment. Phoebe placed her hand on Leola’s shoulder. “You’re confused, sweetie,” she said quietly. “It’s my mamm who’s marrying Monroe. He’s taking you back to Illinois as soon as your parents come home.”

  Leola’s scowl warned of an impending outburst as she glared across the table at Christine. Phoebe got up and massaged her slender shoulders until she exhaled and focused again on the pillowcase she was embroidering. “Maybe,” Leola muttered. “Maybe not.”

  Rosetta slipped her hand under the table to grasp Christine’s. Her sister’s wedding was on hold until Monroe’s house was finished—and until they found a bishop to perform the ceremony. Unless Leola returned home soon, the topic of Christine’s marriage would continue to be a tense one.

  Christine squeezed Rosetta’s hand. “Meanwhile, we have your wedding meal to plan, little sister—”

  “And it’ll be a feast!” Ruby exclaimed. “You and Truman let us know what sort of food you want, and we’ll do it up right.”

  Rosetta’s pulse pounded with pleasure. “I vote for another chocolate cake like you made for my birthday, with the mocha frosting,” she said immediately. “Compared to that one, white cake takes a backseat.”

  “I agree with you there,” Beulah said. “I suspect we’ll have several guests from Coldstream and from Truman’s church, so we might as well make two cakes—and if you want them both to be chocolate, why not? Your wedding, your rules.”

  Rosetta sighed happily as she glanced at this circle of dear women and basked in their excitement. It had been one of the most fabulous days of her life. At long last, she and Truman were tying the knot—and thanks to her sisters’ love and Bishop Monroe’s progressive attitude, she could marry outside the Old Order Amish faith and still remain close to her family and friends. Her dreams were indeed coming true . . . and they tasted like mocha frosting and Truman’s kisses.

  Chapter Twenty

  On Saturday morning, Christine and Rosetta were delighted to visit the Troyer place to see the cold frames Amos had built for Mattie in the sunny yard behind the house. It was March twenty-fifth, and—as often happened in Missouri—the recent snow had disappeared as quickly as it had come. The warmer temperature was a sign that spring was definitely on its way.

  “Amos is tickled with himself for making these cold
frames out of lumber scraps from the houses he and the other men have built,” Mattie said as she lifted the lid of the largest frame. “And he used glass sections Floyd and Lester let him have after they’d made everyone’s windows, too.”

  Mattie beamed as she propped the lid open on the simple wooden braces her husband had built in. The top and sides of the cold frame were mostly glass, with heavily varnished wooden edges. “He’s been too nice to say so, but he’ll be glad to have my trays of seedlings away from the southern windows. I had them arranged on spare doors, supported by sawhorses, so the house has been a little more cluttered than he likes.”

  “But look at these sturdy little broccoli plants—and bell peppers, too,” Christine said as she gazed at a couple of the high-sided trays in which Mattie had planted her seeds. “This takes me back to when we were kids and Mamm always started her tomatoes, peppers, and cabbage in old roasters and glass pans filled with potting soil.”

  “Jah, the whole back side of the house, upstairs and down, had a table at every window with those pans on them,” Rosetta recalled with a smile. “It looks like you’ve already got a nice blend of garden soil and compost in your cold frames, Mattie. Where would you like us to plant each of your vegetables? The three of us can transplant these seedlings in two shakes of Queenie’s tail.”

  As though the Border collie had heard her name, she came loping over from her sunny spot on Roman’s front porch. Rosetta scratched behind her shaggy black ears and then pointed toward the open yard. “You stay out of our way and out of Mattie’s cold frames,” she instructed firmly. “These seedlings don’t stand a chance if you step on them.”

  With a forlorn expression, Queenie trotted away. As she plopped down in the grass to supervise, Christine and her sisters pulled old serving spoons from the pockets of their barn coats and arranged the pans of seedlings so the same vegetables would be planted together. The cold frames were in a row along one edge of the Troyer property, so they chatted as they worked. With their spoons, they carefully separated single plants with a spoonful of soil each and placed them in neat rows inside the cold frames. The glass would magnify the sun’s warmth so the plants would grow strong and stay moist, and they’d be protected from any cold spring weather.

  “Your garden plots will have a head start this year, what with these seedlings and the several months’ worth of compost Noah worked into the soil when he plowed,” Rosetta remarked. “Last year when we arrived, it was too late to plant some of these vegetables.”

  Mattie’s smile held a secret. “And about that time last spring, Deborah showed up and upset Noah’s apple cart, wanting him to forgive her and court her again,” she recalled fondly. “This year, it’s a different story entirely. They’re not saying anything yet, but Deborah’s feeling queasy a lot lately, which makes me think—”

  “A baby, maybe! Oh, that’s gut news,” Christine said excitedly.

  “But you didn’t hear that from me,” Mattie insisted as she placed more cabbage seedlings in her cold frame. “I suspect Deborah’s confiding in her own mamm instead of in me, but that’s natural. Alma will most likely whisper to me about it, and when Noah and Deborah are ready, they’ll announce they’re starting their family.”

  For a moment, Christine felt envious of younger women who were able to conceive and bear children—but she quickly set aside her glum thoughts. She’d been blessed with two wonderful daughters who were the joy of her life—and Monroe had insisted that her inability to have his children didn’t matter.

  The whacking of hammers carried from the roadside, where Amos and Monroe were repairing Mattie’s produce stand. From the opposite direction, the whine of air-driven screws announced that Preachers Marlin and Eli, with Harley and Roman’s help, were attaching the sections of black metal roofing to one of Monroe’s horse barns. A whiff of sugar and cinnamon hinted that Maria’s baking was in full swing. Young male laughter came from the Helmuth place, where Sam, Simon, and their two cousins were constructing the glass walls of the greenhouse. So much progress was being made!

  After all the seedlings had been transferred, Mattie shut and hooked the tops of the cold frames. Christine smiled when her elder sister went to the nearest shed and rolled out a rotary cultivator. Mattie also grabbed a plastic sack full of seed packets, which she handed to Rosetta and Christine so they could sort them on the grass.

  “This is just like old times, when we girls were in charge of planting the garden back home,” Rosetta remarked wistfully. “Mamm’s back was in no shape for so much stooping over, and Dat’s patience with gardening only lasted as long as it took him to get the soil turned each spring.”

  “Noah’s already tilled a couple of the plots, so we might as well plant some lettuce, peas, spinach, and radishes today,” Mattie suggested. “I’ll have to go into Forest Grove to get my onion sets soon. Depending on how warm the weather stays, we might be opening the produce stand with salad greens in a month or so.”

  “I think folks will be glad to see us at the roadside again,” Christine said. “And I know Laura and Phoebe are figuring to have Lily Peterscheim and Fannie Kurtz help them sell produce this year, too.”

  “Do you suppose Deborah plans to sell her baked goods at the stand again?” Rosetta asked as she wheeled the cultivator toward the nearest garden plot. “Maria might not be too happy to have that kind of competition. Have you seen any cars pulling in at the bakery?”

  “Nope, not a one,” Mattie murmured. “She might have to deliver her goodies to Cloverdale to keep her customers there. Unless they call her for special orders, I can’t see folks driving down this way just to pick up a few doughnuts.”

  “If Deborah’s in the family way, she might not want to do any extra baking,” Christine said. “She’s got that double oven, though.”

  “We’ll see what they decide,” Mattie said with a shrug. “Thanks to Truman, Noah’s making a steady living with his welding and metalwork now, so they’ll be okay for money even if Deborah doesn’t bake.”

  Rosetta positioned the cultivator at the end of the plot, along the edge where Noah and his horse had plowed. She lowered the heavy metal rotary blade and grabbed the long wooden handles, walking behind it to smooth and level the soil. After she got a good start, Christine followed her with a hoe, angling it to cut a row in the loosened soil. Mattie opened a packet of leaf lettuce seed, pinched some between her fingers, and walked slowly along the groove Christine had made, sprinkling her seeds in it.

  By the time they’d worked an hour, trading off on the cultivating, hoeing, and planting, they had a sizeable section of the plot planted with salad greens and radishes. “We’re off to a really gut start,” Mattie said, holding her back, “and I for one need to let my poor old muscles rest for the remainder of the day.”

  Christine laughed as they gathered the empty seed packets from the ground. “Poor old muscles?” she teased. “Are you feeling your grand old age of forty-six, sister?”

  “I can just picture you propping your feet up on the couch for the rest of the day, Mattie,” Rosetta said breezily as she rolled the cultivator into the shed. “You could be a true lady of leisure.”

  Mattie rolled her eyes. “Like that will ever happen. What I mean is that a different form of exertion will stretch my muscles so they don’t get stiff and sore,” she explained. “You sweet young things just wait. When you’re as mature as I am now, I’ll remember to rub it in about how ancient and creaky you feel.”

  Christine chuckled. As they approached the lodge, she saw Monroe and Amos coming up the road with their tools. Now that the bishop was living in one of the cabins, he ate his meals with them—as did the Helmuths and Allen Troyer—and she looked forward to the day’s progress report on Mattie’s produce stand and the other construction sites. “I think we’re smart to hook up with husbands who’re a bit older than we are, Mattie,” she said. “That way we’ll always feel younger and nimbler—”

  “And no matter how we feel, we’ll have each other
to commiserate with,” Mattie said, slinging her arms around Christine and Rosetta. “That’s the best part of having you girls for sisters. In sunshine and in shadow, we’re moving through life together and we’ll never be alone. I wouldn’t admit this to Amos, but the bond I feel for you two will always be as strong as what I share with him in marriage—different, but just as deep.”

  Christine’s heart swelled as she and her sisters paused in a huddle, hugging. “Jah, you’ve got that right,” she murmured. “Willis was a fine, loving husband, but my love for him was never the same as what I’ve felt for you sisters all my life.”

  “I totally understand that, even if Truman’s younger,” Rosetta said as they eased apart. “No matter how deeply in love I am with him, my roots with you two go back to the day I was born. He’ll never be able to catch up on that sort of connection.”

  “We can’t lose!” Mattie exclaimed as they opened the door to the mudroom.

  As Christine followed her sisters inside, she caught Monroe’s eye. He waved from the road and hollered that he’d be there for dinner in a few minutes, but she could tell he was curious about what she, Rosetta, and Mattie had been discussing in their huddle.

  If he asked, Christine wouldn’t even try to explain it. Some kinds of love were just too marvelous and mysterious to fully comprehend.

  * * *

  Rosetta carried the last bowls of haystack fixings into the dining room and set them on the table where the Helmuth twins, their two cousins, Allen, and Monroe were taking their seats for the noon meal. The room quickly filled with talk about the progress they were making on their projects.

  “I’ll be starting the plumbing at your place this afternoon, Bishop,” Allen said as he spooned a layer of hash browns onto his plate. “If you haven’t bought faucets for your kitchen, bathrooms, and mudroom, you might want to get them this afternoon so I can install them tomorrow. Toilets and sinks and your bathtub, too.”