To Love and to Cherish (17 page)

Emma smiled. The happiness saturated the air, making the day
bright with anticipation. Who could be sad at a time like this? “As you should be. It’s a wonderful day. It truly is a blessing.”

She stared down the road long after the buggy disappeared.

“You’re letting a cold draft in.”

She turned to find Leah in the doorway. “Sorry.” She whipped the door shut. “How are the boys?”

“Feeling well enough to be ornery. They think they should be able to play catch with the baseball in the house, since I won’t let them go outside.” Leah grimaced and clutched at her apron. “I would like for them to go outside, if only their fevers would go away.”

Emma took a step forward, stopped. “What’s the matter? Are you in labor?”

Leah rubbed her belly and rested her other hand on the wall. “False labor. It’s too soon for this
bobbeli
, as much as I would like for it to be time.”

“Are you sure?”

Leah’s fleeting smile transformed her plain face for a second. “I’ve done this before.”

“Of course.” Emma tried to ignore the bitter taste in her throat. No need to rub it in. “Let me make you some hot tea. It’s cold in here today, and I’ve made it worse with the door—”

“Wait. I want to say something” Leah tensed and rubbed harder. “I’m sorry about Josiah.”

Emma studied Leah’s face. No trace of judgment resided there. Only a soft sadness. “It’s not your fault.”

“If I hadn’t threatened to go to the deacon, he might still be here.” She sank onto the bench at the table. “I know that’s what Luke thinks.”

“Luke thinks you were right, that the Ordnung must be followed.”

“What do you think?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Leah smoothed the table’s wood with both hands in an absent motion. “We live in the same house, and your resentment is obvious.”

“No. I don’t resent…” Emma stopped. “I’m sorry. It’s not about
Josiah. It’s true I miss him and it’s hard when it’s your own brother, but you were right.”

“Then why are you so distant with me? We’ve been sisters-in-law forever, and yet I still feel as if we’re barely acquaintances. I remind myself over and over that you’ve suffered a terrible loss, but it’s not easy for me either.”

Emma sank onto the bench across from her sister-in-law. “You know what it’s like to have your own home. People have routines and ways of doing things. Ways of disciplining children. Traditions. It’s hard to change that.”

“The truth is I feel like I’m a visitor here. A permanent visitor. An unwanted visitor.”

Emma walked a long mile in her sister-in-law’s worn shoes. “I’m sorry to have made you feel that way.”

“Am I so unlikeable?”

“No.” Regret and shame melded in a sharp needle that poked Emma full of holes. “Of course not. You’re hardworking and just as God made you. Why don’t I make that tea?”

“Hardworking? High praise, but it saddens me that it is the only attribute you find in me to like. You know, Emma, we were brought up differently.” Leah plucked a loose stitch on her apron. “My family is conservative.”

“As is mine.”

“Not nearly as much. My father barely acknowledged the rumspringa. He didn’t allow us to associate with those of other faiths, not even the Mennonites.” Leah glanced up. “My father…he frowns upon silliness. Upon frivolity. He says one thing leads to another.”

“Like it did with Josiah.”

“Exactly.”

“Josiah will come back. He’ll be back.”

Emma rose and headed to the kitchen. Her parents were gone. It was wrong to criticize them now. They allowed Catherine to continue to work in the Englischers’ homes even after her baptism. But the bishop had blessed that decision. In these hard economic times some slight changes
in the rules were necessary. It would stop when she married. Maybe they should’ve drawn the line at letting Josiah go to Wichita. Emma slapped the kettle on the stove and turned up the flame. Hindsight.

“No matter what I do, I make you angry.” Leah stood in the doorway, her face white against her dark dress. “I am truly sorry they’re gone. I mean no disrespect. I simply believe that we must be vigilant against those things that would lure us into worldliness. Into temptation.”

“As do I. You think if my parents hadn’t been so lax, you’d be in your own home, and Luke would be at his shop, and everything would be the way it was before.” The words caught in Emma’s throat. She turned. “Shall we have biscuits and honey with the tea?”

“What about Josiah’s eternal salvation?”

Emma closed her eyes. “It’s in God’s hands. To worry is to show a lack of faith.” If only she could stop herself from worrying. Her lack of faith and forgiveness filled the room. “None of us know if we will go to heaven.”

“That’s true.” Leah shuffled forward. “We didn’t laugh in the house I grew up in. Here, you laugh. I like that. It’s obvious you like each other’s company. My family isn’t like that. We don’t show our feelings. It’s not considered appropriate.”

Leah liked
es gelechter
. Emma certainly couldn’t tell that. She’d never even heard Leah laugh outright. An occasional small chuckle behind her lifted hand, but that was about it. Emma kept her gaze on the teapot. She dropped the tea ball into it and poured the steaming water in. “You should sit. You look tired.”

Leah sighed. “My back aches so much that I can’t sleep at night.”

It seemed no one was sleeping well. Even Annie whimpered in her sleep, waking Emma from her own troubled dreams. “It won’t be long.” She brought the teapot to the table along with two thick china mugs. “I’m sorry to have made this harder for you. I’ll try to do better.”

“I’m sorry I’m not as lighthearted as you are.”

“You must think we are awful, laughing so soon after—”

“No, no, I envy…I know envy is wrong, but there is no other word. I envy it and I worry that Luke is—”

Alarm rocked Emma. “What about Luke?”

“He doesn’t smile anymore. He used to be more…patient with the boys. More patient with me. He tried to make me laugh because he knew it didn’t come easily. He wanted the boys to take joy in small things. Simple things. Now he works, he eats, and he sleeps. He barely speaks, let alone jokes.”

Emma poured the tea, then took a sip from her cup. It burned her tongue. She welcomed the small pain as a distraction from Leah’s words. “I’m sure he still does want that for them and for you. He’s just working very hard to take care of all of us. To keep the farm going. He’s tired.”

Leah’s face crumpled. “He’s lost his joy. He doesn’t see me anymore. He looks through me to a distant place where he might someday be able to rest.” Tears wet her cheeks. “He’s sad. I don’t think he’s even thankful for this baby.”

“No, that’s not true. Luke loves his children and a baby…a baby gives us hope for new life, a new beginning.” Emma let her hand creep forward until it covered Leah’s. “Luke won’t always be sad. Aenti Louise says these things take time. But they shall pass. It will get better with time. She promised me.” She patted Leah’s hand and withdrew hers. “Let’s talk about happy things. Cousin Ruth is getting married to David. I’m to be her attendant.”

Leah dabbed at her face with a napkin. “What wonderful news. I suspected as much.”

“You did? I had no idea.” Emma forced a smile. “She’s so happy.”

Please God. Don’t let us always be sad
.

D
espite the hard surface of the Sunday benches that had been carted into the Dodd barn for the wedding, Emma couldn’t contain a blissful sigh. Ruth glowed in her blue dress. She’d emerged from the
abroth
looking like she might float away. Emma doubted that her cousin had anything to admit to the bishop or for which to be admonished. Her rumspringa had been very mild compared to many. She confided in Emma that she found the Englisch ways very disconcerting. The boys too forward. Her eyes were only for David. Her rumspringa had been brief; her baptism right behind it.

The couple had completed the questions that served as their vows and returned to their seats more than an hour ago. The service was almost over. Everything was ready for the noon meal. Immediately after they would begin cooking the wedding supper. The cakes and ice cream were made. With more than one-hundred-fifty guests coming from as far away as Ohio, the food preparations had been massive. Thankfully, Ruth had four sisters and a bevy of cousins to help.

The bishop said the words that ended the service. Emma immediately stood and rushed to Ruth’s side. “Congratulations.” She hugged Ruth. “Are you ready to change your kapp?”

Ruth’s cheeks turned pink. “Let’s go to my room.”

Together they scurried across the yard to Ruth’s home. In her room,
the bride carefully removed the pins that held her black kapp in place, laid it aside, and placed the white one over her dark brown hair. A tear slid down her cheek. “I can’t believe it.”

Emma patted her arm. “Believe it, Mrs. David Fisher.”

Ruth touched the kapp with a shaky finger. “I’m nervous…about being…a wife.”

Emma’s cheeks heated up. She ducked her head, searching for the right words. “David’s a good man. He’ll be patient. And I’m sure he’s as nervous as you are.”

“Really?” Ruth looked relieved. “I didn’t think of that.”

“I’m sure of it.” Men liked to act like they knew what they were doing, but Emma was sure they were just as uncertain about these things. “Right now, it’s time to eat the noon meal. There’ll be gifts to open and singing this afternoon. And the wedding feast this evening. All those young, single boys and girls out there are chomping at the bit to be paired off. You need to eat well; it’ll be a long, wonderful day.”

Ruth shook her head. “Right now, I don’t think I could swallow a bite. I’ll meet you in the barn. I just want to have a word with Mudder before I go find David.”

“He’s probably already wearing his new hat and being congratulated by every man in the district. He’ll wait for you.” Emma didn’t blame Ruth for wanting to get those words of motherly advice. She no longer tried to imagine her wedding day. It was too painful to think it might never come, and if it did, Mudder and Daed would not be there to see it. “I’ll be in the kitchen. There’s plenty of food to carry out.”

She marched through the Dodd house, almost an exact replica of her own, to the kitchen, where a contingent of women swarmed, scurrying to and fro with bowls and platters and trays. Catherine handed her hot pads and a deep, heavy dish of dumplings. “Take these.” She wiped at her forehead with the back of her hand. “I’ll bring the roast.”

Together they trotted across the yard to the barn where the men had rearranged the benches with tables between them. Emma watched the uneven ground to make sure she didn’t stumble over something and drop her dish.

“Emma.”

Thomas. She slowed, then sped up. “Good morning.”

“Can I have a moment?”

He stepped in her path. Catherine looked back, but kept going with her heavy dish. Emma wavered. “This is hot and I must get it inside. The festivities are beginning.”

He tugged the brim of his Sunday hat so it shaded his eyes. “Weddings always make me think of Joanna.”

His words sliced her heart like a sharpened butcher knife. Weddings made her think of the future. They made Thomas think of the past. It was ungracious of her, but Emma couldn’t help but feel that it was a sign they had no future together. She shook free of the thought and tried to focus on his feelings. “I’m sorry for your loss. I know it still grieves you.”

“No, it’s not a sad thought.” He smiled. He did have such a nice smile. “I’ve learned to be content with the time we had. And the children are a blessing.”

Emma shifted. True on both counts. Maybe someday she would be able to feel that way about the loss of Mudder and Daed. But not today. Not yet. The heat of the dish seeped through the hot pads. People filtered around them. A curious glance or two came her way. “I’m glad you’re not sad anymore, Thomas, but I really have to go.”

He glanced at the guests passing by. “I know this is not the right time. But I’d like to talk to you. I’m sorry I didn’t say things better at the school. I didn’t mean to burden you. I try hard to be content, but when I see you…today is too busy with the wedding festivities, but tomorrow evening…later.”

She studied his face. “I don’t know, Thomas. Things are so confusing right now.”

He took a half step closer, but the distance between them remained more than proper. He smelled like wood chips. “You said you weren’t sure about Carl. I must take my chances before you make up your mind about him. I would like to make things less confusing. For both of us.”

Weddings promised new beginnings. Carl promised a new beginning, but seemed to deliver the same old heartache. Despite his
little jokes and funny stories, they still spent most of their evening together rehashing old memories and hurts. She was trying to make room for the possibility Carl might have changed in the past four years. In some ways, he had clearly changed. He knew more words, big words, lots of words no Plain farmer would have cause to use. He walked with the assurance of someone who knew where he was going and why.

Carl wanted her to walk with him. So did Thomas. She feared being hurt again, yet she longed to trust. The truth knotted in her throat. Could she risk being hurt by Carl or any man? Even someone as sturdy and kind and faithful as Thomas? She was afraid to hope. Afraid to trust.

Thomas stared at her, waiting for some kind of response. His expression said he was as confused as she was. Emma swallowed the painful lump, hoping her feelings weren’t etched across her face. “Less confusing would be good.”

He tipped his hat and moved away just as another gaggle of women rushed past her, carrying more food.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of eating and laughing and singing. By evening some of the older folks had moved into the house where they napped or played board games with the younger children. Too busy to be tired, Emma was nevertheless relieved when they finally grouped around the supper tables. The girls and boys who were courting age anxiously milled about on the edges until Emma and Jonathan began to pair them off for the seating, couples already courting on one side, those who were interested in each other on the other.