Following Your Heart (31 page)

“I don't know what to say,” Teresa said, tears streaming down her face. “You really didn't have to do this for me. I was only concerned about being made to leave. Both Yost and I are fine with the wedding as it is planned.”

“But you don't have to marry him now,” Susan said. “Isn't that right,
Daett
?”

“Well, the ministry must meet and decide. But if they decide as I think they will, she won't have to,” Menno said. “It will be up to her.”

“But I can if I want to?” Teresa asked again.

“
Yah
. And Deacon Ray thought that was what your choice might be,” Menno said.

Teresa nodded. “That would be the best thing for everyone concerned. And for Samuel. He would have a father then.”

“Well, I have to get to my plowing,” Menno said. “Deacon Ray already has his disk out in his field.”

“Come!” Susan said, pulling on Teresa's arm. Outside Susan turned toward her. “Teresa, you don't have to marry Yost! So please don't be stubborn about it.”

“I'm not being stubborn, Susan. I'm being practical.”

“Teresa, please,” Susan begged. “You know you have feelings for James.”

“So tell me what kind of boy is James?” Teresa asked.

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do,” Teresa said. “You may think I don't know your people's ways. But Susan, I'm not stupid. Why does James not have a girlfriend already? Can you tell me that?”

“I wouldn't know,” Susan said. “He's dated several Amish girls, but he doesn't last long with any of them. I've never bothered to ask about the matter—or even think about it.”

“I have,” Teresa said. “And he's that kind of boy. He's flighty like Samuel's father was. He makes flutters in the air as he comes around—and flutters into a girl's heart. He's bold, even brash at times, like when he speaks up for me, even promising to take me home a few times from the hymn singings. But his promises don't seem to go any farther than that, Susan. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

“Yost hopes your cooking is good. That's all he wants. So don't do this to yourself,” Susan said. “There might actually be a chance for you with James now. Lay low until after your baptism and see what happens. James might have finally found a girl who is just right for him.”

“
Me
?” Teresa laughed. “Me right for James? Ha! Nothing has changed, Susan. I am still an unwed
Englisha
woman with a baby. If I start getting out of my place, how do you think that will be taken by Deacon Ray and the other ministers?”

“But Deacon Ray is agreeing that you can do what you wish about marriage.”

“Only if the ministers concur. But even then I don't dare, Susan. It would only mean trouble in the long run. Yost will be fine. I shouldn't expect more.”

Susan sighed. “You sure try hard to think like an Amish woman, don't you? I thought you were
Englisha
at heart.”

“Maybe I'm afraid I still am,” Teresa said. “But I'm not changing anything with Yost, other than maybe the wedding date. That was very sweet of your dad. Do you think he really will give me a wedding like I'm one of his daughters?”

“If
Daett
said he will do it, then he will,” Susan said. “But I'd be more concerned about who you're having the wedding with than the wedding itself.”

Mamm
opened the front door. “Will you girls please stop prattling out in the yard and share your news with me! I want to know what the menfolk have going on.”

“Teresa has been given a
gut
word,” Susan said when they approached the house. “
Daett
thinks the ministers are going to change their terms. Hopefully she can get baptized without marrying Yost Byler. Don't you think she should promptly drop the old man?”

“Susan!” Teresa said. “Don't speak like that.”

“That is
gut
news,”
Mamm
said. “But aren't you making plans before you know for sure?”

“Oh, it will happen,” Susan said.

Teresa cleared her throat. “Thank you for your kindness to me. I don't deserve any of it. Certainly not the wedding Menno is offering me.”

“A wedding?”
Mamm
asked.

“
Daett
promised to give Teresa a wedding just like he would for me,” Susan said.

“I said it wasn't necessary,” Teresa said at once. “The way we have it planned now is fine with me.”

“You and Yost,”
Mamm
said, ignoring the interruption.
“Daett
promised to give you a wedding here? Why, I think that is a
gut
idea! I would have thought of it soon enough myself. Especially since now it won't have to be on your baptismal day—if all goes well. But come, we have to get busy now, before the day is completely over. Are you done with the washing, Teresa?”

“Yes,” Teresa replied. “I only need to bring in some of the clothes from the line. I'll bring in the rest after dinner when they're dry.”

“Daett
could use some help in the fields,” Susan said as
Mamm
turned to go inside. “I heard him complaining under his breath.”

“Well, I don't think we can get you married quickly enough to change that this spring,”
Mamm
teased.

“That's not what I meant,” Susan protested. “I'll go help him this afternoon. Don't we have time?”

Mamm
thought for a moment before answering. “
Yah
, but you have never plowed before. That's what
Daett
is doing.”

“I can start on the disking,” Susan suggested. “That's what seems to be bothering him. Deacon Ray is already in the fields with his disk.”

“And Deacon Ray still has a son at home,”
Mamm
said. “But don't be too hard on your
daett
. He's bothered more about getting the crops in the fields than anything Deacon Ray is doing. Late corn will mean a late harvest, and you know what that means. Hard times this winter.”

“That's why I'll go help him after lunch,” Susan said. “I know how to disk.”

“Can I help?” Teresa asked, her eyes shining. “I've never done anything like that in my life.”

“That's why you shouldn't now,”
Mamm
said. “I don't think Yost is needing a wife who can disk. Cooking will keep him happy enough.”

“Please!” Teresa said, her eyes pleading. “I want to experience this for myself. I don't care what Yost has to say about it. And for Samuel's sake, I want to experience a little of what he will go through growing up. It will so comfort me in any troubled times ahead.”

“I suppose you can,”
Mamm
allowed. “Just don't fall off. I don't want a mangled girl on my hands.”

“Oh, I won't!” Teresa squealed. “I'll get the wash off the line right now.”

S
usan held the reins to one of the Belgians as her
daett
threw on a harness, fastening the straps securely under the huge animal. Beside her, Teresa clutched the reins on the bridle of the other horse, her eyes still shining as the horse bent its neck down to get at stray pieces of hay on the barn floor.

“Hang on to him!” Susan ordered with a laugh.

“But he must be hungry,” Teresa said, struggling to keep from getting knocked over.

“They've had plenty to eat,”
Daett
said. “They just can't resist another bite of food. Given a chance they'd eat themselves to death.”

“Is that true?” Teresa asked, pulling hard on the halter.

Susan nodded.

Teresa's horse raised its head, blinking its eyes close to her face. Teresa laughed. “I do think he's pleading with me.”

“Don't give in to his tugging on your heart,” Susan said. “Colic and founder may happen if a horse eats too much oats or rich food. It can kill them.”

“Okay, that one's ready,”
Daett
hollered out, slapping the horse on the rump. Susan led him forward.

“Don't worry,” Susan said as she went past Teresa. “Just hang on to the reins. These horses are well trained. He won't go anywhere.”

When she reached the barnyard, Susan waited beside the field disk until Teresa appeared, leading the second horse through the open door. She looked stressed, her arms stretched as she held the reins while the horse tugged, wanting to go faster.

“It's going to run away from me!” Teresa shrieked. “How do I get it to stop?”

“Don't be afraid, that's the first thing,” Susan said, dropping her reins on the ground and running over to help. “I thought you wanted to do this on your own,” she teased.

“I do!” Teresa gasped. “I just didn't think I should get killed in the process.”

Susan took the lines from Teresa and tugged hard, pulling back on the horse's head. “Whoa! There, now. You know it's somebody new leading you, don't you?”

The horse shook its head and then rubbed Susan's arm with its long nose.

Moments later Menno came out with the last horse.

Susan held the lines to two of the horses while they were hitched up to the disk harrow.

Teresa stood back watching.

When Menno finished, he gave the reins to Susan, and she climbed onto the single seat of the harrow.

“How am I going to learn?” Teresa asked. “There's no place for me.”

Menno smiled. “Susan will take them around the field a few times to work off their friskiness. Then she'll stand on the back behind the seat like I used to when I taught her how to drive the disk.”

“Get-up!” Susan said. The horses lurched forward, the disk machine clattering into the plowed field.

“Well, I'd best get back to my plowing,” Menno said, turning to go.

Teresa watched him leave, his broad shoulders stooped. How sweet the man was under all that gruffness the Amish men carried around with them. Who would have thought it at first? She looked toward Susan making the turn at the other end of the field, swinging the horses around without slowing their walk.

What must it be like to know such things, she thought. Being able to handle a team of horses? Knowing how to work soil into a condition that would grow food? Knowing what it felt like having a father stand behind you, guiding your hands while you learned to work a disk?

She knew how to cook some now, and do laundry, and even sew a bit, but farm work was another matter. Teresa glanced over to the long lines of wash still swinging in the warm, spring afternoon breeze. This morning she had done all of that. Everything from checking the oil, adding fuel, and starting the gas motor on the washer to hanging the pieces of wash on the line with wooden clothespins. Even using the wringer no longer raised the hair on her arms with fear. Susan's tales of children getting their hands caught in its spinning rubber rollers had sounded like a horror movie. “If your fingers ever get caught,” Susan had said, “hit this white bar like this. It will release the pressure.” She demonstrated by hitting the bar, and the wringers immediately separated.

Teresa had tried it for practice, but she had never needed to do it for real. Now the rolling bars barely got her attention. She just made sure she held the garment a few inches from the spinning rubber, letting go before it was too late. It seemed natural, almost like breathing. Teresa brought her attention back to the field. Susan was halfway back, sitting on the seat with both hands on the reins. The disk bounced as it hit something, but Susan seemed undisturbed as she kept her feet on the boards under her.

I'm actually going to do this!
Teresa thought. The idea had been exhilarating in the house—another thing to learn in this strange community. But now as she watched it looked quite dangerous. Unlike the washing machine wringers, a person could get killed by those wicked-looking rolling blades, to say nothing about horses with long, powerful legs that could easily run away. “Don't be scared!” she told herself. “If Susan can do it, I can.”