The Bridesmaid (9 page)

When they came upon Weaver's Creek, Joanna pointed out the lovely spot, so pretty with the dusting of snow on the boulder in the middle of the creek. “Once you're settled here, I'll show you round the whole area,” she said. “It's a little too cold today.”

“I'll get myself back here the minute I can,” Eben promised, reaching for her gloved hand. “Do you trust me, Joanna?” His eyes searched hers.

She nodded her head, relishing his nearness, already dreading his departure.
How I'll miss him!

Eben was relieved to busy himself with parking the horse and sleigh while Joanna dashed to the Lapps' big house to ask permission to skate out back. He wasn't so keen on riding around in an open sleigh, letting the People here see Joanna with a virtual stranger. The last thing Eben wanted was to have folk murmuring about Joanna's romance with an out-of-state boy.
Hopefully I won't be one for long
, he told himself.

Waiting near the horse, he eyed the two-story bank barn over yonder. The more time he spent with Joanna, the more he knew they were meant to be together. Surely the wedge that was keeping them apart for now would vanish in good time, leaving Eben free to depart Shipshewana.

———

The Lapps' pond belonged entirely to Joanna and Eben, a novelty for Joanna, who had never skated there without at least a dozen or more other youth sharing the patch of ice. The sun rose higher in the sky, and she enjoyed the warmth on her back as she and Eben couple-skated, flying over the frozen surface together. But what she liked most was his strong arm around her waist, guiding her, supporting her as they went . . . connecting them as a unit. It was as if he had always been there for her.

What'll I do when he leaves?

She made herself reject the miserable thought, wishing the sun might slow its steady climb.

After the noon meal of hearty chicken corn soup, Eben suggested they go walking around her father's property. He said it with a wink that told Joanna there was more on his mind than merely seeing Dat's farmland.

She liked his more casual appearance today, his combed hair free of its more formal black felt hat, and a warm jacket instead of the dressier frock coat he'd arrived in yesterday. Oh, to think of all they had seen and done in the space of not even twenty-four hours! She doubted she'd sleep tonight with thoughts of Eben rushing over her. How could she turn off such strong feelings, just because he was gone from sight? He'd managed to impress himself upon her heart, and there wasn't anything she could do about it.

They walked leisurely, dawdling as they picked their way over the field lane that ran along the perimeter of Dat's vast acreage. Eben held her hand like he might never let it go, and more times than she could count, their arms touched, sending shivers down her spine.

“There's where I got your phone call.” She pointed to the old shanty to the left, clear out in the silver field.

He smiled down at her, reminding her that he would always call her every other Friday at seven o'clock.

“Guess I'd better make sure my flashlight has plenty of fresh batteries,” she said.

He laughed lightly, and when they looked at each other, neither seemed to want to turn away.

“Will ya wait for me, Joanna?” he asked, serious but hopeful.

“Jah,” she said softly, knowing his words were more of a promise than a question.

“For certain?”

She assured him with her smile.

And when it came time to part, Eben took her tenderly into his arms. For the sweetest moment ever, she felt the beating of his heart.

“I'll write to you, my darling,” he whispered.

Much as she loved writing, she dreaded the thought of returning to that way of communicating when his nearness was just so lovely, the very answer to her heart's cry. And when he said her name, she raised her face to his, still wrapped in his strong arms.

“Oh, Joanna, I'll miss ya so.”

Tears sprang to her eyes as he searched her face, lingering over her brow, her eyes . . . and then her lips. She couldn't help it; her resolve flew far away, and she longed for his kiss.

A crow cawed loudly over their heads, and just that quick, Joanna shifted slightly, offering her cheek instead of what he'd surely prefer. And what she, too, so yearned for. Oh, to know the feel of his lips on her own!
When Eben's my husband, I'll know,
she reminded herself.
We must wait. . . .

She slipped gently out of his arms, smiling to comfort him. And he followed her, reaching again for her hand as they walked more quickly now to the phone shack, where Eben made his call for the cab. Too soon he'd be taken away from her, all the way to Indiana.

T
hat night, Joanna put pen to paper, writing the story of her heart. She included every emotion she'd felt during Eben's wonderful visit, and after she outened the lamp, she could scarcely sleep, reliving again and again how he'd held her . . . and the sweet desire she saw so vividly in his eyes.

As days passed, she attended still more weddings, assisting in the kitchen at several, and looked forward to the weekly quilting circle at Mary Beiler's. Joanna's older brothers and Dat worked to shred cornstalks for bedding and attended packed-out farm sales as far away as the eastern county line and into Honey Brook. Other older Amish farmers, weary of the cold, headed south to places like Pinecraft, Florida, and other sunny climes, once wedding season was past.

Joanna and Cora Jane said precious little to each other all the while. Joanna had learned soon enough that things went more smoothly that way. She enjoyed going next door to sit with Dawdi Joseph twice a week, giving Mammi Sadie time to run errands or just to have a slice of pie and a quiet afternoon with her older sisters or Mamma. Joanna cherished the time with her Dawdi, though his memory seemed to be weakening. His recollection of Bible verses was perfect, but he was often hard-pressed to remember where Mammi had gone off to, or what they'd been up to just a day before.
How long before he won't recognize me anymore?
she sometimes wondered.

Besides time with her
Grosseldre
, Joanna also anticipated her occasional visits to see Cousin Malinda. And every other Friday evening a few minutes before seven o'clock, she dashed off to the phone shack to receive Eben's calls, ignoring the looks Cora Jane sent her way.

Yet as wonderful as the phone calls were, Joanna pined for Eben. Joanna recalled his suggestion that they trust God for their future. So much hinged on a day too far ahead . . . at least for her liking. How she longed to hear the three words he hadn't said. Was he waiting for just the right moment to say “I love you”?

Upon his return from visiting Joanna, Eben had been pleasantly surprised when his father agreed to let him take a day off from farm duties each week to work as an apprentice with the local smithy.

The area blacksmith shop where Amish farmers came to have their horses newly shod was set back a ways from the main farmhouse, with its own lane. In just a short time, Eben had discovered how much he liked the work—everything about it from trimming and filing horses' hooves with clippers and rasp, to measuring the new shoe against the hoof, and then heating it on the blazing anvil. Eben worked mighty hard, too—an experienced smithy could shoe a horse in less than an hour, shoeing anywhere between six and eight horses during the space of a typical day. Eben was determined to learn the particular skills involved, anxious to move forward with the hope of working alongside the Hickory Hollow smithy one day.

Yet as Eben joked with customers and busily went about his duties, he couldn't quash the concern that ever hovered in the back of his mind: His splendid plans for the future were for naught if Leroy did not return.

Joanna fretted as the months dragged on without another visit from Eben. Winter melted into spring, and still he stayed away. Was he stepping back? To his credit, he continued to call her, and his letters arrived with the same frequency. He wrote of working with his father to run their big dairy operation, and also told about his apprenticeship with the smithy. Promising as that was, nothing further was said about Leroy or any type of backup plan if his brother didn't come home.

Joanna assumed that with so much responsibility resting on his shoulders, Eben was sacrificing any free time to write to her, and she was grateful. She did wonder if her worries were the fault of her active imagination. Or was she actually reading between the lines? Surely his thinking hadn't changed. Surely the hope of leaving Shipshewana still remained strong.

Trying not to lose heart, she occupied her time by making quilted potholders and embroidered pillowcases for market, as well as helping around the house and next door, too, at the
Dawdi Haus
. She was thankful for the opportunity to earn extra money at the Bird-in-Hand Farmers Market.

As for her sister, when Cora Jane wasn't sewing market goods with Joanna, she was still accepting buggy rides from the same fellow—Gideon Zook. Joanna envied the frequency of their outings under the stars, remembering that one sweet November evening in the sleigh with Eben Troyer. Oh, she hoped Eben still felt the same way about her! With all of her heart, she did.

One March day, Joanna was delighted to receive a letter from her English friend, Amelia Devries. Not wanting to alert—or alarm—Cora Jane, she took the letter to her bedroom and closed the door, settling onto the chair next to the window. Feeling secure there, she began to read.

Dear Joanna,

Thanks so much for your recent correspondence!

I hope you're doing well . . . and still writing your wonderful stories. You might be surprised, but I often think about the one you shared with me when I was there visiting last summer. It was quite compelling—your characters seemed so very real!

Have you ever thought of getting your stories published? If so, I would be the first to encourage you to do whatever it takes.

Just recently, my own mother received a book-publishing contract. Mom jokingly says that if she can do it, anyone can. Of course—like you—she has been writing secretly for quite some time. So this is by no means a sudden success. . . .

Joanna smiled at Amelia's enthusiasm but was also cautious not to let the remarks go to her head. And she wasn't about to get herself an agent or move heaven and earth to get published, not when seeking publication was frowned on by many Plain communities. It was the farthest thing from Joanna's mind.

Yet there were times when she privately considered what it might be like for other people to read her work . . . but precisely what form that might take, she really had no idea.

It was April now—ten months since Joanna had first met her beau—and the flowering shrubs were starting to burst forth alongside Hickory Lane. A horse's neigh caught Joanna's attention where she sat at Mamma's table beneath the gaslight, writing yet another letter to Eben. She was glad to have the house to herself this evening. Thankful, too, that Cora Jane had followed Mamma out the back door after supper dishes were put away, to hurry over the dirt field road to visit Mattie Beiler, longtime Amish midwife.

Joanna smiled as she signed off:
Yours always, Joanna
. It was a good thing her nosy sister couldn't be here to peer over her shoulder! Cora Jane had made it clear over the past months that she still frowned on Joanna's Indiana beau. It didn't help Eben's case when he was still stuck in Shipshewana.

Barefoot, Joanna rose and made her way to the rear screen door, where she looked out at the hazy sky, the humidity obscuring the sunset. Over in the pasture, eight mules meandered toward the barn—dark, lumbering figures against the coming twilight.

She stared at them, sighing. It was such a long time since she'd delighted in snuggling with Eben, his smile ever so dear in her memory. More and more like just a pleasant dream. Her heart had never ached for someone like this. They were supposedly a couple. Yet at such lonely times, Joanna feared that nothing more might come of their long-distance courtship. After all, Eben had made only that one visit.

If we could just have more time together!

Their days at the beach and last November's visit and their phone calls were hardly enough to sustain a near engagement. Their relationship needed a shot in the arm—they needed to see each other again, face-to-face. And more frequently, too.

Surely Eben also feels this way.

Joanna noticed a golden barn cat squeezing beneath the newly painted white porch banister. All the while her father and his two older brothers discussed feed prices in their lineup of hickory rocking chairs. They also speculated who might get the most cuttings of alfalfa come summer.

Leaning her head against the doorjamb, she enjoyed the sweet fragrance of Uncle Ervin's pipe tobacco, though neither her father nor Uncle Gideon had ever taken up the habit.
Bishop John disapproves.

Joanna sometimes wondered about Eben's bishop. Her beau rarely mentioned these kinds of things in his letters. Was their man of God patient and measured . . . kind? Or unyielding and stern, as she knew some to be—like their own bishop, John Beiler? Would it be difficult for Eben to transfer his church membership here, to relocate to Hickory Hollow at the appropriate time?

Joanna didn't see Mamma and Cora Jane anywhere just yet. Mattie's husband had recently remodeled the kitchens in both the main house and the Dawdi Haus, and Mattie wanted to show them to Mamma. Nearly all the Amishwomen nearby had beautiful kitchens resembling most any modern one—except, of course, the stove and refrigerator ran on propane gas. Mattie had gone on about the “perty oak woodwork” this morning while having coffee here, and that had apparently sent Joanna's mother running over there. The two friends were known to work well together, putting up jellies or jams in the space of a few hours, even after the day's chores were done. And oh, the stories that flew from their lips . . . especially from Mattie's, telling all about the many babies she'd caught through the years.