The days passed quickly enough, just as Jonas said they would. Yet Leah often caught herself joyfully brooding over him, thinking ahead to the next wonderful-gut time, careful not to share too much with Sadie, who was ensnared in her own contemplation. The difference between them now was Sadie’s tightlipped response to most everything, while Leah could scarcely contain her happiness.
Mamma must’ve noticed, too, saying that Leah was nearly as bapplich—chatty—as Mary Ruth. This observation didn’t seem to bother Mary Ruth at all, just made for livelier canning frolics in Mamma’s big kitchen with Aunt Lizzie and Miriam and Adah Peachey.
Days grew shorter as the time neared for Anna Mast’s wedding. One mid-November morning Leah awakened with the cold creeping in from outside, rousing her from deep slumber. Turning over, she saw that Sadie had pulled the heavy woolen quilts over to her side of the bed. Leah tugged at them, trying to get her fair share back, so she could at least sleep a bit longer before morning chores.
Here lately, though, Dat had said she didn’t need to get up and come out in the cold for the first milking of the day. Kind of him, she thought, rolling over, her back against Sadie’s.
Even after pulling her half of the quilts back over herself, Leah was still a bit shivery. But the weight of the heirloom quilts was always a comfort and a reminder of Mamma’s love. Just as Jonas’s wool throws kept her snug and warm in his open buggy each time they went riding.
At the last singing Sadie had surprised her by going along. They’d had such fun together, one of the first times recently—almost like their former days of childhood—though Sadie had latched on to her, hardly letting her talk with Jonas alone at all. And then, since Leah and Sadie had both ridden over with Smithy Gid and Adah, they had ended up riding back to Gobbler’s Knob with Jonas, which was an interesting howdy-do.
Honestly, Leah had felt Sadie was spying on her and didn’t appreciate it one bit. Jonas, on the other hand, took Sadie’s presence in his stride, including her in their banter, paying nearly as much attention to Sadie as he had to her. Jah, Jonas had joked openly with Sadie, politely of course, who sat directly behind them in the second seat, clutching her own woolen lap robe. Such a peculiar thing, really—three in a courting buggy!
After that night, though, Sadie said she thought Leah ought to attend singings on her own. “Oh, why’s that?” Leah had asked, sticking her neck out only for Sadie to wave her hand and say, “No reason. ’Tis just better for courtin’ couples to be by themselves.”
So now Sadie sat home nights while Leah entertained Jonas in the kitchen, near the wood stove, after the family had gone upstairs to bed. And Leah was grateful that Jonas was not so much interested in the hops or hoedowns so frowned upon by the church yet attended by some of his “buddy groups.” She felt he was ever mindful of the People’s rules. The best beau, he was.
Two nights prior to Anna Mast’s nuptials, Dr. Schwartz’s wife reminded her family of the Amish wedding “this coming Tuesday.”
Amidst obnoxious groans from Derek, Lorraine rose and went to the kitchen, returning with a tray of dessert and hot coffee. “It’s a rare opportunity,” she said, eyeing her husband for support. “One we will enjoy . . . all of us.”
Henry spoke up quickly. “Derek, it is important that you honor your employer at his daughter’s marriage ceremony.”
The boy muttered something unintelligible and stabbed a fork into his baked berry pudding. About then Robert spoke up and asked Henry’s permission to drive the family car to a church meeting in nearby Quarryville. “When will yours be in running order again?” Henry asked.
“The mechanic said tomorrow. So if you wouldn’t mind, Dad . . .”
“Sure.” Henry pulled the car keys out of his trouser pocket. “When shall your mother and I expect you home?”
“Nine-thirty, if not earlier,” Robert replied, to which Derek snorted loudly.
Henry’s eyes locked with Derek’s. This unspoken exchange was registered, and the belligerent son sat up straighter, his spine now flat against the dining room chair.
From the entryway, Robert called good-bye and waved to them and turned toward the coat closet. Henry was filled with paternal pride at the sight of Robert, tall and honorable. Such dire things he’s seen and survived, he thought, disconcerted but not surprised by his son’s sudden interest in the ministry.
Though not a religious man, Henry believed in a Creator-God, one who had the power to grant life and take it away. A God who dwelt in the heavens somewhere, afar off. Only once in Henry’s life had he ever prayed, and that was out of desperation, nothing more—when Robert had sent word by letter of the bloodshed on the battlefields of Europe. Never had he done so since, not even to offer a heartfelt thanks for Robert’s safe return.
Just this morning his son had enthusiastically mentioned that he hoped to attend a nearby Mennonite church meeting. Robert had even gone so far as to inquire of his mother about Grandpa Schwartz’s ministry and life, to which Lorraine had responded by promptly leaving the room, only to return with a tattered scrapbook. She said it had been in the family for many years, though Robert avowed he had never laid eyes on it. He had looked at the pictures with great interest, making note of his grandfather carrying a Bible in one photo.
Presently, Henry watched Robert open then close the front door behind him. The war had certainly turned their young ex-soldier inside out. What would it take to get Derek on better footing in general? The upcoming stint in the army? Henry was banking on it.
Derek was undeniably closed to any discussion, and Henry was breaking no new ground. “What’s bothering you, son?” he asked, truly frustrated.
“I can’t wait to get out of here” was the surly reply.
“You’re looking ahead to the service, I assume?”
“Not just that . . . leaving Lancaster behind forever.” The remark cut deep. Why should our boy feel this way? Henry wondered.
Lorraine kept her distance, pinching off leaves from the many African violets in the far end of the parlor. Occasionally she glanced at him kindly. Henry and his dear wife had certainly had their times with Derek and might have had similar difficulties with Robert had he not come home from Europe a changed man.
Not a father to pry into the private facets of his sons’ lives, Henry had concealed the fact that he’d silently witnessed the heated exchange between the Amish girl and Derek in the yard some weeks ago. Though he had heard nothing of what was said, he worried that something was amiss, even at stake, between the two of them. Then when Derek had bolted after the girl—who had taken off on foot— revving up his car like a maniac and racing down the road after her, Henry felt grave concern.
Now Derek’s words agitated him further. “Besides, I want nothing to do with this stinking life—yours and Mom’s!” His son leaped up from the table.
“Just a minute, young man. I’ve worked all these years to establish our good family name. I’ll not have you speak—”
“Save it, Dad!” With that, Derek brushed past him.
Stunned at this outburst, Henry looked at Lorraine, who sadly shook her head. She came and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Incorrigible,” he heard her say.
Then Henry stood up and reached for his wife, enfolding her in his arms. “I’m sorry you must suffer our son’s antagonism, dear,” he said. “It makes me realize what I must have put my own parents through.”
“Derek will grow up soon enough, just as we all do.” With that, Lorraine rose on tiptoe to kiss and hug him tenderly.
Leah and Jonas had been out riding about a half hour or so, meandering round the county roads, taking their time getting Leah home. The most picturesque farmhouses had a way of rolling down across the meadows and settling back a ways from the road. Jonas surprised her by asking what sort of house she’d want to live in when she was married, and, of course, she said a house something like Dat’s . . . “a house that’s been in the family for generations, you know.”
“Something real old, then?”
“Oh, jah.”
Turned out, Jonas agreed. So they were getting awful close to the topic that mattered most to Leah, and she was mighty sure to her beau, too—the subject of marriage, just when they might tie the knot, and all.
But as Jonas talked, she realized they weren’t going to be discussing that subject just now, probably. At least not tonight. He was more interested in his sister’s wedding in just two days. “Anna’s awful ferhoodled,” he said, laughing. “Both Mam and Pop just look at each other sometimes—I’ve seen ’em— like they can’t believe how harebrained she is.”
“What sort of young bride will she be, then?” Leah ventured, hoping she wasn’t stepping on anyone’s toes.
“Oh, Anna will be right fine, just as any newly married woman is . . . given time.” And here he reached around her and drew her near. “Just the way you’ll be someday.”
“ ’Cept for one thing,” she spoke up quickly.
“What’s that?”
“I know my way round a barnyard better than most brides!”
This brought the heartiest laughter she’d ever heard from Jonas. And he made no attempt to disagree with her.