The Bridesmaid (12 page)

J
oanna was startled awake the next morning at her mother's call up the stairs. “
Kumme
now, Joanna, and help make breakfast!”

“All right, Mamma.” Joanna stretched, yawned, and got out of bed, still feeling groggy. She stepped across the hall to peek in at her sister, who was still in bed. “Cora Jane, time to wake up. Mamma needs us.”

“I heard her,” Cora Jane said sleepily, rolling over, her golden hair sprawled out all over the pillow. “She called for
you
!”

With a sigh, Joanna hurried to wash up. She recognized that Cora Jane was still rather young and in the process of maturing. But sometimes her prickly edges were hard to overlook, especially when she confronted others as she had Joanna last night.

Choosing to wear her gray choring dress, Joanna then quickly brushed her long hair and wove it into a tight bun, pinning it securely. No sense risking getting hair in the scrambled eggs!

Peering into her dresser mirror, she noticed how bright her eyes looked after a night's sweet dreams of Eben.
Closer in my dreams than in reality.

Suddenly it occurred to her that Ella Mae Zook might be someone she ought to consider talking to about her beau. After all, the Wise Woman lived just over the cornfield, so it was easy to visit without having to bother hitching up the horse and buggy.

Even though Ella Mae was one of her mother's dearest friends, Joanna believed the older woman kept all shared confidences—she was a trustworthy soul. And ever so forthright, too, freely speaking her mind . . . even to the point of being downright
batzich—
spunky. So interesting, because the woman was nothing like Joanna's own mother, nor any of the other respected womenfolk in Hickory Hollow. Joanna privately wondered if the Wise Woman managed to get by with her plucky nature because she was much too old to be put off church.

“'Tis a
gut
thing,” Joanna whispered as she set the white organdy Kapp on her head.

Dare I tell her about Eben's predicament?

Perhaps Ella Mae might have some advice to give about their long-distance romance. Might it help to simply voice her sheer frustration?

Joanna decided to test the waters later this week and see what wisdom Ella Mae might offer her . . . over peppermint tea. At this point, any counsel would be welcome!

Cora Jane conspicuously picked at her bacon and eggs at the breakfast table, apparently also lacking any appetite for Mamma's homemade sticky buns. Joanna wondered what ailed her. Was she still upset over last night, or was she dreading the quilting bee today over at Mary Beiler's? Last Thursday one of Mary's Ohio cousins, Linda Jean, had showed up wearing a bright pink dress, unlike any color ever seen round Lancaster County. Cora Jane brought attention to it in a most critical way, causing a stir at the quilting frame.

Chagrined, Joanna had felt for her sister and wished Cora Jane might show more kindness.
“What if we simply made it our heart's work to pray more and judge less?”
Ella Mae had once said, years ago. And Joanna had never forgotten.

“I think I'll stay home today,” Cora Jane announced across the table from Joanna. “Dat could use some help outside, ain't?” She looked at their father, who wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

“Well, now,” Dat said, “I thought you were headin' to the bishop's for the quilting bee.” He glanced first at Mamma, then back at Cora Jane. “All of yous.”

“That's right, Cora Jane. We're going to help finish the friendship quilt we started last week. And we need you.” Mamma meant business. But so did Cora Jane, her eyes widening even as she sat there.

“But I ain't feelin' so
gut
,” Cora Jane replied, sighing dramatically and placing both hands on her cheeks.

“Just that quick, you're sick?” Mamma shook her head; she knew Cora Jane all too well. “If you're under the weather, I know just the thing to get ya feelin' up to snuff. A big tablespoon of cod liver oil should cure that in short order.”

Cora Jane pulled a hard frown. The matter was quite settled.

“The boys and I will finish planting Elam Lapp's potato field by suppertime,” Dat said casually, obviously attempting to squash any more tetchiness from Cora Jane.

“Next comes the cultivating,” Mamma added, eyes still fixed on Cora Jane, who had managed to sit up tall and straight, the mere threat of fish oil lingering in the air. “You'll be mighty busy, too, with spreading manure on the vegetable gardens,” she said to Dat, the ordeal of breakfast clearly behind them.

Joanna smiled as she listened to her parents' everyday small talk. A kindly person was a content one. Sooner or later, Cora Jane would understand that, too.

Eben sat down to breakfast, waiting for Mamm to take her seat near Daed. There was much on his mind, not the least of which was Leroy's letter. Keeping the news to himself was exhausting. It was as if the secret were weighing him down . . . refusing to be disregarded.

Glancing up, he saw his mother shaking her head. Then, slowly, she waved two pieces of paper, one in each hand. “What's this here, Eben?” she asked, frowning as she came to the table. “Did Leroy write to you?”

Eben recognized the envelope he'd ripped in half last night. He had no choice but to fess up. “Ach, Mamm, I didn't want to get your hopes up.” He glanced at his father, sitting squarely at the head of the table.

“Oh?” Daed said, his brow creasing into a hard line. “What're ya talking 'bout?”

“Leroy says he's comin' home . . . maybe as soon as today.”

Mamm's face broke into a smile. “Well, praise be!”

“I don't know much else. He really didn't say a lot.”

“'Tis best not to jump to conclusions, Mamma,” his father urged.

“It's been a long time comin',” Eben added. “Not to mention all the prayin'.”

“That's the truth.” Daed motioned for Mamm to take her place so he could offer the silent prayer.

She quickly slipped onto the bench, and Daed folded his hands and bowed his head low. Eben did the same, heart beating fast. He'd hurt his mother, and just when he'd tried to spare her further pain. During the silent table blessing, he prayed that Leroy's visit would be providential.

After the amen, Eben reached for the nearest platter and offered it to his father, then helped himself. He was grateful for the exceptionally hearty breakfast of cornmeal mush and sausage Mamm had taken the time to make.

He wondered how long it had been since Leroy had enjoyed such a breakfast but didn't feel sorry for him. After all, Leroy had pushed the boundaries even as a youngster; it was his own unwise decision to leave the People.

Even so, Eben hoped his brother had reconsidered all the time he'd spent rubbing shoulders with the world. Might he be ready to settle down at last and assume his expected place on the farm?

What I wouldn't give for that!
Eben thought, assuming such a thing was highly unlikely. No, something else had to be up with Leroy. Why
was
he coming?

J
oanna's mother breezed through the back door and began gathering up her basket of quilting supplies. “'Bout ready?”

“Perty soon, jah.” Joanna wiped off the counter and turned to the table, where she had her own quilting needles and thimble in a little box, ready to tuck into her sewing bag.

“Don't want to be late,” Mamma replied.

Cora Jane was the one dawdling, still in her room. “I'll see what's keepin' my sister.” Joanna hurried to the bottom of the stairs. “We're hitched and ready to go,” she called up.

Joanna waited a moment, giving Cora Jane time to respond. She heard only the creak of footsteps, but they weren't moving toward the stairs, so she called again, “Are ya comin', sister?”

A long silence.

At last, her sister replied, “I'll be right down.”

“We'll be waiting.” Turning, Joanna headed back through the kitchen, her navy blue canvas sewing bag slung over her shoulder and her writing notebook tucked safely inside. The notebook was her “insurance,” in case of a lull in activity. That way, Joanna could go somewhere alone and write if she wanted to, and no one would be the wiser.

Hurrying out the back door, Joanna could hardly wait to get to Beilers'. Bishop John and Mary seemed to go out of their way to make the quilters feel welcome every week. And Joanna loved seeing their darling children, especially making over the younger ones.

The day was already quite warm as Joanna walked across the yard, taking in the sweep of land in all directions. Spring had its own unique smell, a freshness and earthiness found in no other season.

Joanna stepped into the carriage and sat beside Mamma. “Cora Jane says she's comin'.”

“She'd better make it snappy. We're running behind.” Mamma smoothed her cape apron over her long dress. “You're lookin' perky, Joanna.”

For many reasons, she certainly felt good. “I'm eager to see how the friendship quilt turned out—all pieced together.” Joanna thought, too, of Mary's ailing grandfather. “And it'll be
gut
to hear how Abram Stoltzfus is doin' this week.”

“Sadly, word has it he's declining quickly . . . awful confused these days.” Mamma glanced at the house, a glint of frustration in her eyes. No question Cora Jane was a slowpoke today. “Mary says her Dawdi clearly remembers what he did years ago as a youngster, but he can't recall his own grandchildren's names.” She sighed loudly. “'Tis the saddest thing.”

“Jah.” Joanna thought of her own Dawdi Joseph. “Old folk tend to live in the past, ain't so?”

Her mother gave a sudden frown, leaning around Joanna to stare at the house again. “For pity's sake, where's Cora Jane? Slow as molasses in January!”

“She might be feelin' embarrassed 'bout last week.”

“Well, we're not leaving here without her,” Mamma declared.

Joanna resumed talking about Mamma's ailing father, saying he seemed to need more rest than ever before. “Mammi says he takes two or more naps a day.”

“And the older he gets, the more he'll want to doze,” Mamma agreed. “Seems elderly folk and wee tykes require more sleep than the rest of us.”

Just then, Mamma brightened as Cora Jane burst out the back door and sped across the yard, her skirt tail flying.

“Ach, I'm ready!” Cora Jane called, nearly leaping into the carriage. She sat down with a thump, taking more than her share of space. Then she leaned back dramatically. “I shouldn't have rushed so!”

Joanna sputtered at that. Did she really have to make a spectacle of herself?

“Cora Jane, we've been sitting out here waitin' for ya,” Mamma rebuked. “You best be more considerate in the future, hear?”

Cora Jane nodded slowly.

“I mean it,” Mamma added, the reins taut in her hands.

Cora Jane gave Joanna a quick look.

Joanna hoped things would go well
this
quilting frolic. Far as she could tell, Cora Jane had gone from being rather lethargic at the breakfast table to just a mite too spunky now.

Hickory Lane was busier than usual with horses and carriages. Amish neighbors waved as they passed, and here and there small children ran barefoot after the carriage. Others skipped rope beneath shade trees or played jacks on the front porch, where it was still cool. And all the while, Joanna felt she was holding her breath, wondering how Cora Jane might behave today.

Yet neither her mother nor her sister made a peep, and the sound of the horse's
clip-clop
ping helped relax Joanna somewhat. She particularly enjoyed the sight of little red squirrels climbing trees along the roadside. Cows roamed the grazing land, and mule teams worked the soil, plowing and chasing sunshine.

The day was going to be unusually warm. Joanna was glad she'd thought to bring along her bandana for the ride home later this afternoon. She might even loosen her hair bun, although she'd never think of undoing it entirely in public. Looking at the sky, she hoped for the possibility of a rain shower.
Just maybe,
she thought, feeling terribly cramped with three in the seat.

Then, quite unexpectedly, Cora Jane folded her hands and looked at their mother. “Ach, Mamma . . . I'm real sorry for makin' a scene last week over Linda Jean,” she said humbly. “Honestly.”

A sweet smile spread across Mamma's face. “Well, dear, maybe ya didn't realize that pink is an approved color for Amish dresses in some areas of Ohio.”

Cora Jane hung her head. “It just looked so awful worldly,” she replied, staring at her lap, her tone softer now. “Such a loud color.”

Joanna wasn't sure she ought to put her nose into the conversation. She waited for a moment, then quietly suggested that there were many different church ordinances, even within a five-mile radius in Lancaster County. Maybe Cora Jane wasn't too aware of this, not being baptized yet.

“Just none that permits pink for courting-age girls, jah?” replied Cora Jane, raising her eyes.

“That's absolutely right,” Mamma said.

The discussion triggered a curiosity in Joanna. What color dresses did Eben's mother and sisters wear in Shipshewana? Oh, she'd love to know more about his family and their church ordinances, too. Then she scolded herself, knowing she had no need to consider any of that, at least not for herself.

Yet, what if Eben
did
ask her to come to live in Shipshewana after all? What would she say to that?