A Wedding for Julia (7 page)

Caleb was relieved when Lydia came back and the conversation ended. He’d endured a restless night, and David’s words left him even more confused.

He wanted to help Julia. He did. But marry her? Was he supposed to go that far?

What stuck in his mind more than the splinter he’d managed to catch in his forefinger were the words he’d prayed as he’d driven up to her house yesterday. Maybe it had been a coincidence. Maybe it had nothing to do with all that followed, but he couldn’t help remembering that he’d cried out to God for one thing and one thing alone. He couldn’t help remembering how right that prayer had felt. The words still echoed in his mind. He’d prayed, Gotte,
what I need is a
freind.

But friendship and marriage were two different things, weren’t they?

Julia pulled gently on the reins to her old Bay Paint mare, Missy, slowing the buggy as she approached Bishop Atlee’s home.

Fortunately, her mother hadn’t asked any questions when she’d finished the morning chores and said she was going to town. She would never lie to her mother. She’d even prepared a speech in her mind, explaining why she felt the need to speak with the bishop.

Now the speech whirled around under her prayer
kapp
, unneeded and unused. Ada had nodded and resumed tending to the rose bushes, adding, “Do be careful, dear.”

The bushes didn’t actually need pruning. Julia took care of that, but Ada seemed to enjoy trimming back the dead blooms, often stopping to brush her hand across the newest red buds. The task was cumbersome for her. Some days she could barely work her arthritic fingers into the handles of the pruning shears. Still, she insisted on doing it herself. Watching her work slowly and with extra care, Julia knew her mother was remembering the hymn from her father’s funeral—“Where the Roses Never Fade.”

How could she be angry with her mother when she was such a sweet old thing? How could she stay aggravated when each day she worried about her mother’s health? Each day might be her mother’s last. Even today it seemed Ada was a little weaker as she walked from the kitchen, out the back door, and to the row of rose bushes.

When Julia had asked how she felt, Ada had waved a hand and said, “I will sing praise to the name of the Lord.”

The Psalms—always the Psalms! Since she was a child it had been so. She’d asked her why more than once, but Ada had simply patted her hand and answered with words from another Psalm. It was maddening.

An evening’s rest and morning chores had done nothing to lessen Julia’s confusion, and Bishop Atlee Keim might be the one person who could provide answers.

Before she could knock on his door, the bishop walked out of his barn and waved a hand in greeting. “Julia, nice to see you.”

“And you, Bishop.”

“Is everything all right with Ada?” The skin around his eyes crinkled in concern, and he ran a hand up and over his cheeks—cheeks as weathered as the pages of Ada’s Bible.

Atlee had been their bishop for as long as Julia could remember. He had a beard which was mostly white and reminded her of the
Englisch
pictures of St. Nicholas. The hair on the top of his head was also white and beginning to thin. He’d been married, but his wife had passed a few years before. Recently he’d moved into the smaller house—the
grossdaddi
house—on his place, and his oldest son had moved into the big house. Often when Julia saw the bishop, he was surrounded by children—his own grandchildren or the children of his congregation.

“My mother is fine.” Julia’s hand went to her
kapp
, though she knew it was pinned perfectly. “I was wondering if you could spare a minute to talk.”

“Of course.” Atlee nodded toward the porch. “It’s what the rockers are best for. I’ll go inside and fetch us some drinks.”

By the time he returned, Julia had gathered her courage and was ready to spill the entire story. She did it a little more succinctly than she had with Caleb, so that she was finished before the bishop had taken two drinks from his glass of lemonade.

“I can see you’re upset by this discussion you’ve had with your
mamm
.”

“Of course I am! What they decided is so unfair.”

He tipped his head to the right, the way he did during a church service before he was about to make another point. “Fairness is a difficult thing to pinpoint, so I won’t speak to that. I do know that Ada and Jonathan love you very much.”

She liked that he spoke of her father in the present tense. Julia believed in the resurrection, and she knew her father was in heaven even now, watching over her.

“I’m not sure my
dat
understood exactly what he was doing when he made this…decision.”

“Because of his illness during his last year?”

“
Ya
.” Relieved that he was understanding her, she pushed on. “You know better than anyone how addled he could become. Some days he thought I was his
schweschder
. Am I to believe he knew what he was doing when he set this course for my life?”

Atlee didn’t respond immediately. Instead he rocked and stared out at the trees, which looked as if they had been colored by a child—their leaves were so bright and attractive.

“You’re saying you would follow your father’s advice, normally. The problem is you’re not sure he was of a clear mind when he made this condition that you must marry to inherit the home here in Pebble Creek.”

Julia nodded. It was a slight nod because she wasn’t sure if that’s what she was saying or not. She did trust her father, but this was all so crazy.

Atlee set his lemonade down and folded his hands in his lap. For a moment she thought he might be praying, but then he raised his wise brown eyes and looked directly into hers.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen the legal papers Ada spoke of, but Jonathan had them drawn up several years ago while his mind was still quite clear. I know because he asked me to witness them.” He paused, allowing time for his words to sink in. “I also know because before he did such a thing he spent many an hour here with me, praying about it.”

Julia shook her head, wanting to say something, say anything to make him stop.

“I suppose it’s hard to understand how a parent worries over a child, and you are still a child to your parents no matter how old you become. Jonathan’s heart was burdened that you had not married.” He raised his hand to stop her protest. “He enjoyed having you at home, but he wanted you to have what he had. He wanted the peace of knowing someone would protect you, love you, and cherish you as a husband would. Together, we prayed for this. In the end, he decided that his duty as a parent was to send you back to Ada’s family.”

“But I’m a grown woman.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, you can.”

“This isn’t fair!”

Atlee’s hand came out, dismissing the subject as he had the first time.

Julia took another sip of the lemonade, which now tasted too tart.

“What am I to do?”

“The choice you make is yours, Julia. I will pray for you during this time, and any time you would like me to pray
with
you, I’d be happy to do that as well. In the meantime, I suggest you search the Scriptures. Always you will find guidance there.”

Standing, she thanked him and walked back to her buggy.

Following beside her, the bishop asked her to give his best to Ada. When she’d climbed into the buggy, he said, with a twinkle in his eye, “The marrying season is upon us, Julia. Is there no one from among our community you’d consider?”

“Just like that? Just marry someone?”

“There are
gut
men who would—”

“Name one.”

“Bishop Beiler, on the east side of Pebble Creek.”

“He is in his fifties.” Julie clapped her hand over her mouth. She would never have said anything disparaging about the bishop, but marrying him? Was Atlee serious?

Smiling, he continued. “Gabe Miller’s brother has been visiting. I’ve heard he means to stay.”

Julia closed her eyes, determined not to say another word. The entire world had apparently gone mad. She had known Andrew Miller only a few months, and she’d spoken less than a dozen words to him.

“And then there’s Caleb Zook.”

Now her eyes popped open.

“Caleb?”

“Sure. He’s been here more than a year. Aaron has vouched for him, and I’ve spoken to his previous bishop as well. He seems like a fine young man.”

“Caleb?”

“Zook.
Ya
. You know him. About this tall, longish hair, delivers groceries.”

Julia picked up Missy’s reins. With a polite but firm smile, she said, “No, Bishop. I haven’t given it any consideration.”

Then she murmured to the horse and turned her buggy down the lane.

It wasn’t until she was halfway home that she realized she hadn’t quite spoken the truth. She had given marriage some consideration and with one of the men Bishop Atlee had mentioned. The question was whether she had the courage to do anything about it.

Chapter 7

J
ulia sat through the church service and struggled to pay attention. She wasn’t having much success, though she’d been at it for several hours. Aaron and Lydia’s home was small but cozy. What would that be like? What would it be like to share the most intimate of moments—waking, breakfast, passing each other in the mudroom, even going to sleep together?

She pulled her thoughts back to the worship service.

The singing portion had gone fairly well until they had reached “Where the Roses Never Fade.” Why this week? When her memories of her father were so fresh, so muddled, why was this one of the chosen hymns?

The lyrics spoke of their heavenly home and streets of gold. They reminded her of the tree of life. Voices raised around her, singing of roses with eternal blooms. The words of the hymn comforted her, while at the same time stirring in her heart an ache for her father.

Tears threatened, but Julia blinked them away. She’d had more than her share of hugs and warm greetings this morning. It seemed perhaps her situation had been the topic of the Amish grapevine—out of concern and not maliciousness, she had no doubt. Still, she didn’t want to begin weeping now. It would be sure to cause more talk and trouble her mother as well.

On Thursday, Ada had taken a turn for the worse.