Last Bride, The (Home to Hickory Hollow Book #5) (17 page)

M
andy held her breath during the spoken benediction as the People rose together at last. Then, in unison, they bent their knees at the sacred words, “
Yesus
Grischdus
—Jesus Christ,” before sitting back down on the wooden benches for the closing hymn.

She really just wanted to sneak out of the service with the unbaptized teenagers and children who were presently filing out of the deacon’s large front room—the temporary house of worship for this Preaching service. A holy hush fell over the place as the youngsters wearing their for
-gut
clothing made their way outdoors without a sound during the final song.

On the opposite side of the large room, the men’s section faced the women’s, and Mandy could see plainly that Sylvan had already bowed his head, along with the other men in his row, including Norm Byler, who was sandwiched in between Sylvan and her father. She would not let herself think much
at all about Norm’s association with either man—it just felt odd, considering everything.

Turning her attention to the matter at hand, Mandy prayed silently,
O Lord, help my
sister as she offers up her repentance to Thee.

The bishop, tall and solemn in his black frock coat, asked Tessie to step forward. Quickly, as if eager to do so, Tessie rose from the wooden bench where she’d sat with Mandy and Molly, her eyes downcast as she walked reverently toward the front. Bishop John took his seat with the other ministers, signifying their unity.

Mandy knew from past disciplinary meetings that, immediately upon the admission of sin of any kind, the People were swift to offer pardon, along with the blessing of the Lord God. Anything shared during the confession was to be kept mum and not discussed with others after the service.

Tessie knelt before the gathered body of believers, near the ministerial brethren, taking the position of contrition expected for the most severe transgressions, those violating biblical standards.

The bishop then asked Tessie to describe her sin.

In that moment, waiting for Tessie Ann to deliver up her admission of guilt, Mandy felt like she might faint right off the bench.

“Do you, our sister in the Lord, want to make peace and continue in the faith with God and the church?” Bishop John asked in Deitsch. “Do you want to confess your sin?”

Tessie said she did.

Unable to watch, Mandy bowed her head. Even so, she could picture Tessie up there, her hands folded, eyes squeezed
shut. How it pained her to think of her sister like this—expecting a baby without a husband—when she herself had not yet conceived a child. Mandy struggled not to cry, and her sister Molly reached for her hand.

———

Tessie was plunged into a great conflict, remembering Marcus’s decision not to reveal their marriage till the time was right. That time had never come while Marcus was living, and she wasn’t absolutely certain now was the right time, either. Oh, she wished she could tell the People about her precious marriage to Marcus, but wouldn’t they react like her father had, questioning her word? After all, it did seem awfully convenient to say she had been secretly married now that she’d turned up pregnant.

Visions of her sweet, yet few, times with Marcus raced through her mind. Silently, she asked God for help and found the strength in that moment to rise to her feet. Heart hammering, Tessie opened her mouth, but it was as if she had been struck dumb. She simply could not speak.

“Our sister, do you have a question?” Bishop John asked, frowning as Tessie stood there. His eyes were as large and somber as a calf’s.

Hastily, she shook her head. “Bishop, I’m here to confess my sin . . . of disobedience,” she said, finding her voice. “Even so, my situation is not what everyone must suppose. Not at all.”

Then, lifting her head further, Tessie met her father’s eyes. She assumed he must be thinking,
Why hasn’t she confessed to being with
child?

He’ll say I’m defiant,
she realized. Yet without proof of her
marriage, she couldn’t risk the bishop’s—nor the membership’s—disbelieving her, denying she was ever married to her darling.
I already have enough
shame on my head. . . .

Instead, Tessie turned and walked past the rows of womenfolk, momentarily locking eyes with softhearted Ella Mae Zook. When Tessie located her mother on the benches, she felt sad for Mamma, her eyes red, her bottom lip quivering. Then she looked at each of her four sisters—Mandy’s head was down. Among the young women, only Cousin Emmalyn Lapp’s expression exhibited no hint of shock or aversion. This somehow comforted Tessie, and she recalled Emmalyn’s heartfelt declaration of loyalty, come what may.

But it was Mary Beiler, the bishop’s wife, who held Tessie’s gaze the longest, a somber curve to her mouth as she sat in the back with her youngest child, tiny Anna. Sighing, Tessie could only imagine what must be going through the woman’s mind. Was she reliving the day her former best friend, Katie Lapp, had rushed out of the church service, refusing to marry the then-widowed Bishop John? Was dear Mary wondering why Tessie hadn’t confessed more?

Of course she is,
Tessie thought as she continued toward the kitchen and beyond. Her steps must not falter. And once she found her coat and scarf in the enclosed porch, she exited alone by way of the back door out into the crisp, cold air.

She refused to let anxiety overtake her as she walked briskly toward home. The wintertime sun sliced across snow-packed Hickory Lane, across the white rooftops of neighbors’ homes and their tall silos. She didn’t have to wonder if the bishop would recommend to impose a temporary excommunication—the
Bann—
for her apparent lack of sincerity today.

All the same, Tessie felt she’d done the right thing by her love for Marcus. And their baby.

Bishop John announced there would be a short meeting of the ministers in a room upstairs, urging the membership to wait there “for the will of the Lord to be done in this matter.”

Mandy did not budge nor even look about her; none of the other women sharing her bench so much as whispered. She remembered Tessie’s bold walk past them as she left the house of worship. What had happened to keep her from confessing all?

Is she mixed
-up, confused?

The rows of benches in front of Mandy—seven, she’d counted earlier—supported the older women, their white organdy Kapps like small translucent moons floating on the back of their graying heads. Her heart went out to them; Tessie’s peculiar behavior had extended the already long meeting.
Their backs must be aching,
she thought, remembering the years she’d spent as a teenager, prior to baptism, leaning against the wall on the last row of benches. The welcome resting spot had nearly been a deterrent to formally joining church.

When the ministers returned, the bishop firmly declared, “We are in agreement to cast a vote of the membership on the suggested remedy for Tessie’s rebellious action this day.”

Mandy froze. Were they going to put the Bann on her sister?

“Have you lost your mind, Tessie Ann? You made no sense whatsoever today at church,” her father stated as he sat at the
head of the table, hours later. The silence in the house reached into every room as he paused. “It’s plainly clear that you sinned and did not confess it! ‘Speak ye every man the truth . . .’” he said, quoting the Old Testament verse from Zechariah.

Just as she hadn’t revealed her elopement at her confession, Tessie would not defend herself now. She had already told her father the truth, and it had done her no good. Now she felt sure it was her place to carry this love burden.

“The membership has voted,” Dat continued. “You are required to return in two weeks to the next church gathering to hear the decision for yourself . . . to take your discipline.” He sighed loudly and shook his head. “You never should’ve left for home after church without waiting for the membership to have their say. What were ya thinkin’?”

“She simply wasn’t,” Mamma said softly, shame for Tessie on her face.

Tessie nodded, knowing better than to press this. “I’ll be there, next Preaching service . . . to take my discipline.”

“Des
gut,
then.” Dat pushed his callused hand through his thin hair. “And, while ya wait, it’d be right schmaert to beseech the Lord God for wisdom. That’s all I’ll say on this for now.”

Feeling drained of emotion and needing to lie down, Tessie waited till her father had gone to rest in the guest room before she rose and headed upstairs.

No matter what she did—drinking warm milk, taking aspirin—nothing brought sleep to Mandy’s weary eyes that night. And to think she’d given away all of her sleeping pills to
Mamma, who on a night like this undoubtedly needed one, as well.

So, giving up on getting any rest, Mandy put on her slippers and bathrobe and trudged downstairs, where she sat at the table, feeling ill. For a girl who had always been well thought of, and whose giving spirit had reached out to the whole of the community . . . well, Tessie had certainly fooled everyone.

Mandy leaned her face into her hands. She felt as if her insides were giving way along with her heart. Despite that, she offered up a prayer for Tessie Ann, realizing their relationship was about to change drastically, unless a confession was forthcoming in two weeks. Would Tessie manage to repent sooner rather than later? And if not, what on earth was holding her back?

M
onday morning, Tessie and Mamma were up at four-thirty to get the washing, including Dawdi Dave’s, through the wringer washer and out on the line early. They said very little to each other as they worked side by side. Now and then, Tessie noticed her mother looking at her askance, as if attempting to understand what had happened yesterday at church.

Finally Mamma said, “Declaring guilt is
gut
for the soul.”

“I believe that, too,” Tessie replied, but that was all she could manage.

Mamma looked ever so tired.

“Maybe you should try an’ rest sometime this afternoon, once dinner’s over,” Tessie suggested kindly.

“Ain’t so easy to sleep these days.”

The words stung Tessie. She, too, struggled with regular insomnia more now than before, and she remembered that her sister Miriam had once shared about her wakefulness while
she was pregnant. Yet knowing that Mamma was troubled and that it pointed to Tessie made her feel all the worse.

At the noon meal, Dat read from the Bible prior to the silent table prayer, though he usually only read the Scriptures in the evenings, after supper. Less surprising was the passage her father had chosen today. “‘Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much,’” Dat read from the epistle of James. The way her father leaned hard on the words
confess
and
healed
made Tessie take notice.

Even her dour-looking Dawdi Dave, his salt-and-pepper beard touching the table’s surface across from her, captured Tessie’s gaze with his quizzical eyes. Again, she felt regret that the rest of her family hadn’t been told about her marriage. But she did not dare risk her father’s anger and bring it up a second time.

The talk at the table was limited to casual asides about the cold weather, the delicious baked ham and mashed potatoes, and the sweet pumpkin bread Mamma had put on the table before serving up the lemon pound cake with whipped cream topping as a surprise.

“Why don’t ya come over and visit me sometime soon, Tessie Ann,” her grandfather said before leaving to go next door.

Tessie said she would, feeling low in spirit. No doubt he planned to say more of the things she’d already heard today from Mamma . . . and from Scripture.

Tuesday night arrived, twinkling with more snow and with the growing realization that Tessie’s family life was definitely
changing. Her mother, especially, seemed anxious to encourage Tessie to follow through with the confession she’d set out to give. She spoke of little else.

Since yesterday noon, each of Tessie’s sisters had dropped in, as well, every one of them seeming to echo Mamma’s words. Tessie Ann felt weary of all the advice. Oh, how she simply wished she could return to the past.

Wednesday afternoon, a letter arrived from Levi Smucker, postmarked Sarasota, Florida. Tessie rather welcomed it, yearning for some everyday communication. The way things were going at home and around the neighborhood, she felt resigned to conversations that pertained only to her so-called wrongdoing and her need to repent.

Mamma had taken the team up the road after dinner to visit with Rhoda Kurtz, where she was joining with Rebecca Lapp and Mattie Beiler to make pies to sell at market tomorrow. For once, Mamma had not invited Tessie along. Feeling as isolated as her sister Mandy said
she
felt at times, Tessie went to sit in the front room near the heater stove, where she had been finishing up some sewing.

She looked down at the letter in her hand, suddenly hesitant. Eventually, though, curiosity overcame her, and she opened Levi’s letter.

Dear Tessie Ann,

I promised I’d write to you, but I’m not the best letter writer. So please bear with me.

How are you? And how’s everything in Hickory Hollow? Are you getting more snow? It’s hard to believe how warm it is down here in Florida, and I’m beginning to understand why my grandparents and so many others like to come to this tropical community for the winter. It’s an escape, I’m thinking. A way to keep warm during Lancaster County’s lengthy cold snaps.

Like I told you on our first date, I’m noodling the idea of going deep-sea fishing. My grandmother frowns at the notion, as you can imagine. To be honest, I’d rather not give her cause for worry, though I think it would be quite the adventure. I’ll be sure to tell you all about it if I do go, but I keep myself so busy caring for my grandparents presently, Grandmammi especially, I don’t have much time for fanciful ideas.

He shared with her the sights he’d enjoyed since arriving, as well as mentioning a rather competitive Scrabble game. Levi also described the large tricycles many of the Amishwomen rode up and down the narrow streets in the little village of Pinecraft. He seemed to enjoy being one of the few young people there this time of year as he tended to his beloved grandparents.

Tessie could picture quite clearly what he was writing about and was surprised there were three pages to his newsy letter. He even talked about a particular type of peanut butter spread the Amishwomen there made. He wondered why the womenfolk in Hickory Hollow didn’t make it quite like this,
with oodles of extra syrup
. He put a smiley face next to that particular line.

Tessie finished reading, sad to see the letter end. It was obvious how fond he was of her; otherwise, why would someone
who didn’t enjoy writing letters want to pen such a long one? She sincerely hoped he had a pleasant time during his stay in Florida, soaking up the sunshine and exploring the sea in what free time he might find.

A single young man like Levi deserved a reply, yet Tessie knew that she must be forthright about what she wrote—he needed to know about her condition. It was apparent by his letter that none of their church members had broken the required silence and spilled the beans about Tessie’s attempt to confess last Sunday.
At least
not yet.

Levi will be relieved I’m writing, once
he learns the shape I’m in. . . .

Finding her stationery box, she pulled out a single sheet and began to write by lantern light.

Dear Levi,

Thank you for your thoughtful letter. I’ve enjoyed hearing about your experiences there in Florida . . . and I pray your grandmother is getting along much better very soon.

What I want to tell you here is ever so important, Levi. You see, I’m going to have a baby in July, and because of this I don’t expect you to keep writing to me, kind though you’ve been. . . .

As had been the case month after month, Mandy was devastated once again to learn she wasn’t pregnant.
I just want to
cry,
she thought, and she went right to her room and did so.

Everywhere she went, she seemed to encounter expectant mothers—at Preaching service, at market, at quilting bees . . . and Tessie Ann.

Growing up in her family’s home with four sisters, Mandy had never known such a silence there, and it made her jittery. The place had become the opposite of a refuge—the empty rooms a constant reminder of what she longed for and did not have.

Since her cooking and cleaning was caught up by midafternoon, she roamed upstairs, trying to decide where she’d put together a nursery when the time came.
If
it did. “Oh, dear Lord, what’s wrong with me? Am I barren?” She assumed it was her problem and not Sylvan’s. No, surely their lack of children could never point to him.

Trying not to give way to despair, Mandy decided to do some piecework and begin to cut small squares for a baby quilt. Such a project made the silent confines of her home more bearable, at least for the moment. The dear Lord knew she needed something, because the walls were pressing closer with each passing month. She simply did not fit in with a community that put such a high value on children—many children per household, in fact. The failure to conceive isolated her, whether in reality or in her mind.

Mandy picked up her basket of fabric and scissors, weary of tears . . . yet she never permitted her husband to see inside her heavy heart to her ever-present sorrow. Her life with Sylvan had become little more than waiting for the day their love might spring at last to life.

Sitting down to work in the kitchen, Mandy decided that, if nothing else, she could give the quilt to Tessie for
her
baby.
A lightweight coverlet would be ideal since Tessie’s little one must surely be coming in the heat of summer.
Perhaps my
own life will be different by then. . . .

———

Mandy had not expected a visit from Mamma just now, but there she stood at the back door, nonetheless. Only an hour or so had passed since she’d gotten the idea to make a baby quilt, and the project was all laid out on the kitchen table.

When she heard the knock, for a moment she considered quickly gathering up the evidence. But there wasn’t time, and here came her mother, walking right in the door, as family typically did.

“Hope ya don’t mind me just appearin’,” said Mamma, eyeing the squares and going directly to look at the pretty pattern Mandy had created. “That’s right nice.” She lifted her eyes to Mandy’s, then came over to give her a quick hug. “For
your
baby?”

Mandy sucked in a breath and shook her head. “Not just yet, Mamma, but soon . . . I hope, very soon.”

“Ah . . . for Tessie, then?”

“Maybe so.”

Thankfully, her mother let that go and sat herself down at the opposite end of the table, folding her pink hands in front of her—like Dat often did when his mind was working on something heavy.

“I’m awful worried.” Mamma frowned.

“’Bout Tessie Ann?”

“Can’t put my finger on what it is with her. I’m concerned that Marcus’s death has affected her terribly.”

“I’ve wondered that, too.”

“Well, I wonder if something’s snapped, maybe, in her mind.”

“She seems normal enough to me.”

“But to say what she did in front of the whole church?” Mamma shook her head. “I can’t get over it. Neither can your father. He’s on his knees prayin’ every night now, pleading with the Lord Gott to help our poor Tessie think straight.”