The Bridesmaid (15 page)

S
till shaky from her meeting with Preacher Yoder, Joanna darted into the small bathroom off the kitchen, where she washed her face. She stood at the sink and stared into the modest cabinet mirror, letting water drip off her chin. Her distress threatened even more tears, but she set her jaw and splashed cold water on her eyes and forehead.

She was thankful for indoor plumbing on such a day. Four decades ago, her family was using the wooden outhouse, which still stood a ways from the barn. Ah, the wonderful-good conveniences the ministerial brethren had permitted back then. Considering that, she wondered when individual creativity might be allowed. Would story writing—and music, like Katie's guitar playing—always be frowned upon? Now, sadly, her story would languish, forever unfinished.
Ironic.
She hoped that wouldn't be the case with her real-life love story.

She hadn't received a letter from Eben in the past couple days, and the knowledge compounded her misery.

After drying her face, Joanna turned to the window and moved the plain white curtains aside to look at the lush green lawn, carefully tended each week by her and Cora Jane. They'd also planted the brightly colored petunias along the walkway and around the well pump on the eastern edge. Alas, the old pump would always be a reminder now of Preacher Yoder's stern admonition.

Evidently, she was considered a transgressor in his eyes. Yet Joanna wasn't herself convinced. And she wished with all her heart that the minister would've answered her questions—now she was so confused. Did he think Joanna was merely a ferhoodled female? She'd sometimes overheard other men in authority talk so about their womenfolk, which had privately triggered her resentment, though she hadn't “given place to the devil” and acted on it. Still, she couldn't imagine Eben referring to her that way . . . nor her own father.

Joanna rushed through her indoor chores, avoiding Mamma as best she could. She simply could not reveal what had happened today, not the way she felt. But she needed comfort terribly, and thankfully she knew where to seek it. As miserable as Joanna felt, she could hardly wait to leave the house, to escape both her mother's questioning eyes and her sister's pained expression. She detested what Cora Jane had done. Yet she also knew that pursuing revenge was not the way of forgiveness.

Joanna headed on foot around the barn after the noon meal and cut through the field lane that bordered her father's cornfield. She relived Preacher Yoder's awful visit as she trudged over the lengthy pasture to the other side of their property.

How could she ever forgive Cora Jane? Yet she must.

Birds gathered in masses in the trees, calling back and forth, then flew together in a great gray cloud against the sky. They seemed to mock her.

When Joanna finally arrived at Ella Mae Zook's little house, she spotted the white-haired woman on the back porch, watering her potted red geraniums with a galvanized watering can. Several years had come and gone since many pretty annuals blossomed in the beds along the walkway and porch. But Ella Mae's knee joints could no longer tolerate bending to weed a garden.

Ella Mae looked up and gave a smile as Joanna made her way across the backyard. “Well, now, I
thought
that was you.” She looked neat and proper in her green dress and black apron, graying hair in a low bun and her crisp white organdy Kapp over the widening middle part. “Nice to see ya, dearie. Come sit with me on the porch.”

“Hullo, Ella Mae,” Joanna said as she approached the elderly woman. “I've been wantin' to visit you.”

“Glad ya dropped by, then.” Ella Mae led the way up the steps, going to her own rocking chair near the far end of the white banister. “You're lookin' a bit
schlimm,
dear girl.” Gingerly, she eased herself into the rocker.

“Do I?”

“Serious as ever I've seen ya.”

Joanna took her seat on the only other rocker. Leaning back, she sighed, glad for the quiet and the peaceful landscape beyond the barn. “Honestly, I scarcely know where to start.”

“Well, the beginning's always a
gut
place, ain't?”

Joanna crossed her legs and glanced at her dusty bare feet. She felt so comfortable with Ella Mae, who was certainly the best listener Joanna had ever known. “All right,” she said, glad they were alone. “When you were a girl, did ya ever love someone who lived outside the community?”

“I never cared two cents for any Englischer boys, if that's what ya mean.”

Joanna waved her hand. “No, no . . . I didn't mean to imply that.” She scooted forward a bit. “What I meant was, did ya ever care for an
Amish
fella who lived in a different church district . . . maybe even in another state?”

“Can't say that I did.” Ella Mae shook her head. “Never met any young fellas outside this community back in my own courting days.”

Forging ahead, Joanna confided about Eben Troyer and all of the important details surrounding their long-distance courtship since their meeting on the beach and his visit last November. “Even though he wants to move here, things just aren't movin' forward like I thought . . . actually, they don't seem to be moving at all.”

“Ain't surprising, really,” Ella Mae said softly, blue eyes peering over her glasses.

Disheartened, Joanna hoped she might explain.

“Problems can arise in a long-distance courtship,” Ella Mae said, no longer rocking. “Misunderstandings, for one thing. And sometimes a couple doesn't always mesh because of the different church ordinances, for another. What one bishop allows, the other doesn't—so there's some fittin' in that must happen over time.”

Joanna wondered if Eben's bishop considered writing fiction a problem, but she quickly dismissed that.

“And there can be certain challenges to face by havin' to move far away from family and friends, too.”

Joanna knew this—why, even Cousin Malinda seemed lonesome at times.

“What
I'm
wonderin' is, aren't there any nice fellas in Hickory Hollow?” Ella Mae asked, chuckling a little, her dimples showing.

“That's a
gut
question.”

“Well, then?”

Joanna considered that. “But what if you've already fallen in love with someone else?” There. She'd said it.

“Guess it's just as easy to fall for a young man right here at home as anywhere, jah?”

Joanna felt discouraged. Ella Mae didn't seem to understand—the young men around here had had their chance, but none of them had shown much interest. No one had, in fact, till Eben. Yet the Wise Woman's questions lodged in Joanna's mind. Truth was, there would be no such difficulties for her and Eben . . . at least not once he finally arrived to court her. He'd never hinted at any worries about what the move would mean for him, or any concerns related to the Ordnung there in the hollow. On the other hand, he had never really written about anything controversial. Maybe he simply took things as they came.

“Problems can arise in a long-distance courtship. . . .”

Ella Mae's words continued to resonate in Joanna's mind later, as she walked back through the cornfield toward home, feeling worse for the visit. She glanced over at the top of the phone shack where she and Eben secretly talked.

Will he call again tonight?

“Oh,
gut,
you're home,” Mamma said the minute Joanna walked in the back door. “I need ya to take a casserole and some fresh bread over to Mammi Kurtz right quick. Your father's already hitched up the team.”

“I'll be glad to,” Joanna replied, noting that Cora Jane was down on all fours, washing the kitchen floor.
Truly glad . . .

“I would go, but Rachel Stoltzfus is comin' over any minute now, bringing ideas for the school's benefit auction next month.” Mamma bustled around, gathering up the long loaf of bread, some strawberry jam, and the hot dish, putting everything in a large basket. “Hope it's not too heavy.” She handed it to Joanna.

“No . . . I can manage.”

“Just so ya know, your Mammi Kurtz ain't feelin' well,” Mamma added. “Might not be a
gut
idea to stay long, ya hear?”

Joanna nodded, promising not to tire Mammi out. She did wish she could ask about the story behind the double wedding ring quilt, but it sounded like that would have to wait.

She glanced at her sister before leaving the kitchen with the food basket. Cora Jane kept scrubbing all the while, never once looking up, like she was taking out some frustration on the wood floor.

Joanna's Mammi Kurtz was the topping on any cake. She wasn't just dear, she was considerate, too. And beautiful for her age. Her skin was fair and unflawed, except for the wrinkles, and she wore her prayer cap pushed toward the back of her graying head.

“Well, aren't you nice, Joanna.” Her grandmother got up from her comfortable chair in the tidy corner of the small kitchen, setting
The Budget
aside.