The Bridesmaid (19 page)

J
oanna thoroughly enjoyed a double-scoop peach ice cream cone at Lapp Valley Farm, where she and Jake used the convenient drive-through. Jake was determined to treat her, which was quite nice, even though she suspected he was hungry for some dessert himself.

Over the course of the next few hours, they managed to talk about everything from English tourists they'd met to what it would be like to live in a house with air-conditioning on such a humid night. She was especially relieved that Jake hadn't spoiled things by reaching for her hand or slipping his arm around her. Had the Wise Woman counseled him on the proper way to date, just maybe?

And Jake did not bring up Eben again during the zippy ride past Amish farmland. For that, Joanna was grateful. She was even more surprised later, when Jake pulled over on the side of the road, near Weaver's Creek—the very spot she'd wanted to bring her former beau.

“What're we doin' here?” she asked.

“You'll see.” He offered to help her down. “Follow me.”

They walked single file through the high grass, toward the wide, wooded creek bed. He scrambled to the top of the largest boulder and sat there like a tall bird. He smiled, watching her from his perch. “Oh, here, do ya need some help?”

“I'm fine,” she said, laughing. And she was. She could easily climb up there to join him.

When she'd sat down in the small spot left for her, she soon saw why he'd brought her here.

“Shh, just watch,” he whispered.

As the light dimmed, the sun melted the sky into pinks and gold, the rosy hue filling the shadows and the stream itself. Colors she'd never seen before were reflected in the water. Adding to that near-magical glow were the sparkles of hundreds of lightning bugs.
Fireflies
, Eben had called them in a letter. But Joanna had never seen them like this with Eben. No, her evening with Jake was far different than a date with a letter . . . or a phone booth! And Joanna rather liked it.

Eben initially thought Ada might be rather shy, but as the evening progressed, he discovered he'd been quite wrong. She seemed to feel the need to fill even the smallest gaps of silence. She also had a strange habit of wringing her hands, just like his tetchy
Grossmammi
on his mother's side. Both habits made him wish he'd stayed home.

Ada was saying something now about her best friend planting an extra big crop of celery seedlings, starting tomorrow. “Ya know what that means, ain't?” Her voice rose to a crescendo.

He knew, all right.

She jabbered on about this unnamed friend of hers, even though Eben knew perfectly well it was Dottie Miller, having seen Ada come into Singings and other get-togethers with her sisters and this good friend.
So Dottie's getting hitched,
he thought, guessing one young woman after another would marry during this November. And if Eben didn't get on the stick and get serious about finding a bride, he'd end up having to look at the new crop of sixteen-year-olds next thing.

He must've chuckled at the thought, because Ada looked over at him. Then, oh, the laugh she gave! It was the most harsh-sounding, peculiar laugh he'd ever heard before, sharp as shattered glass. Why hadn't he noticed this prior to asking her out? Eben held tightly to the reins and reminded himself that he'd been the one who'd asked her to go riding tonight.

By the time they arrived at his brother-in-law's place to meet another couple for a tournament of Ping-Pong, Eben was annoyed, though he knew he must be a gentleman and make the evening pleasant for her. He was not one to throw in the towel quickly.

So they played doubles in the cool basement—girls against the guys, and later couples against each other. The beautiful girl opposite Ada reminded him of Joanna in looks and demeanor, and he had to be careful not to stare, lest her boyfriend think he was coveting.

As the Ping-Pong wound down, Eben's sister-in-law made popcorn and surprised them with some homemade strawberry ice cream for the occasion. The time of refreshment and visiting was dominated by Ada, yet in spite of the chatty girl by his side, Eben felt downright lonely. Was this how he'd always feel without Joanna in his life?

There was talk of another tournament—some other evening—and Ada leaped up a little in what Eben assumed was excitement at the idea. The other couple readily agreed, but Eben was reluctant. He saw the disappointment in Ada's dark brown eyes but had to be true to himself. He was not going anywhere again with Ada Kemp. It was wrong to let her think he was interested in anything more than friendship.

Minutes after Eben had seen her home, he removed his black vest and rolled up his white shirt sleeves, nearly as tired as if he'd filled silo all day. The leisurely ride home was just what he needed . . . and the blessed silence. “What a mistake,” he whispered, vowing not to get himself into such a pickle again.

Cora Jane surprised Joanna by waiting up for her that night, perched on the edge of Joanna's own bed. “Heard you might've gone out with Freckles Jake,” Cora Jane said, eyes wide. “Did ya?”

“I'm awful tired, if ya don't mind.”

“You sure don't look it.”

Joanna went to the window, her back to her sister. “Well, I
am
.” Did her sister suddenly think that all was well between them because Eben was no longer a part of Joanna's life?

“Did he kiss ya?”

Joanna whirled around. “You know better than that!” She caught her breath. “Takes two for that.”

Cora Jane began to laugh, then clapped her hand over her mouth, stifling her own giggles. “You should see your face, sister. I mean, honestly!”

“This isn't funny.”

“Ach, your face is.”

“I'd like to get ready for bed now, Cora Jane.” Joanna didn't even think to ask if she'd had a good time with Gid. It was the last thing on her mind with her sister acting so foolish.

But Cora Jane continued to sit there, calming down some and looking more serious.

Joanna pointed toward the door. “I mean it,” she said. “I'd like some privacy.”

“What . . . so you can dream 'bout Jake Lantz?”

Joanna shook her head in disgust. “When will you ever grow up?”

“Are you just too
old
to have fun . . . is that it?” Cora Jane rose and stood at the door, leaning her head against the doorjamb. “How could you possibly go out with the likes of that boy?”

“He's a gentleman, that's how.”

“Well, ain't what our cousins are sayin'. . . . Goodness, all the girls are avoiding him.”

“People can change.”

“But not Jake,” said Cora Jane.

“How would you know?”

“I'm smart enough to listen to
gut
advice,” Cora Jane shot back.

Joanna stood her ground. “I'm tellin' you he's nothin' at all like the rumors.”

The two of them glared at each other, but the resentment Joanna felt wasn't because of Jake. “I think you owe me an apology, sister.” She'd endured Cora Jane's silence and near gloomy outlook for far too long . . . holding in her hurt the best she could. “You know precisely what I'm talking about.”

“Why, because I called the preacher's attention to your disobedience?”

“Wasn't necessary and you know it.”

“No?” Cora Jane shrugged. “Since when are you the rule maker?”

It was all Joanna could do not to retaliate and say,
Since when are you?
But she bit her lip and kept silent. She turned away. The encounter with Cora Jane was beginning to cloud her special time away. Not wanting to ask her sister to leave the room again, Joanna went to sit in the chair near the window, and when she turned around, wondering how she was going to keep her peace, Cora Jane was gone.

Joanna wished for a lock on her door as she wrote long into the night, remembering the beauty surrounding her at Weaver's Creek. Yet the evening's charms mingled with sadness at her loss of Eben, and she wrote with all the more fervor—only
this
story must have a happy ending.

She felt carried away to her lovely fictional world, like a character snatched away from another completely different place, where things of the heart were shared and treasured for always. Where there was no speck of pain or sadness over lost love. Just as always before, Joanna reveled in her precious creation.

Sometime later, after she'd put away her notebook, she dressed for bed, slipping into the lightweight blue gown she'd sewn a few weeks ago. Then she pulled out a box of greeting cards and found one to send to Mammi Kurtz, who was still in a rehab hospital in Lancaster. Each week, Joanna enjoyed sending a card with her own special made-up poem, hoping it might bring her grandmother some cheer. Joanna's mother had commented on the cards, which she'd seen when she'd gone to visit, saying how pleased Mammi was to receive them.

While writing this poem, Joanna wondered if anyone else amongst the People might see her poetry. If so, would they report her to the ministerial brethren the way Cora Jane had? She hoped it wasn't against the church ordinance to write little rhyming encouragements, too!

When she was finished, she pulled out the wooden letter box in the hope chest and contemplated what to do with Eben's many letters and cards. But the more she considered it, the more she knew she couldn't part with any of it just yet. Maybe someday.

Something else weighed on her. Pleasant as he was, she didn't know if she ought to go out with Jake again, except that all the other fellows who were unspoken for were even younger than he was. She'd so wanted to be married this wedding season.
But not to just anyone . . .

Joanna turned out the gas lantern and slipped into bed, sighing. As her eyes slowly grew accustomed to the dark, it struck her that she might simply enjoy occasional dates with Jake Lantz, if he was willing. What could it hurt? But she should let him know next time they saw each other that she was only interested in a casual friendship until she was completely over Eben Troyer.