Chapter Eighteen
Catrina waited for her moment. She told herself there would be time. Amish weddings came at the end of a church service. She would wait until the right moment. The congregation sang hymns from the Ausbund, listened to a sermon, and sang again. The three-hour service crept by with agonizing slowness. During every pause, every quiet moment, Catrina told herself that now was the moment. She must tell them to delay the wedding. But each time, she hesitated too long and missed her opportunity. The sun slunk higher in the sky. The dew dried on the wild grass and the air warmed until her hair felt damp with sweat beneath her white linen prayer kappe. The service would be over soon. Catrina shifted on her seat. She kept glancing across the aisle to Eli. He looked so happy and determined. Once, his eyes cut to her as she stared at him. He nodded and grinned. The innocent wonder inside his blue eyes made her chest constrict. He loved her. He loved her for who she was and he wanted to marry her. Today.
Then, before she knew it, Catrina was standing in front of the congregation, arm in arm with Eli. His hand felt warm and strong on hers. She looked up at him and their eyes met. The congregation sat behind them, watching. She felt all attention on her. Someone coughed. A child whispered and a woman said, “Shhhh.” Boots shuffled against the bare earth. Everyone focused on them and the vows they would make.
Catrina did not want to extinguish the spark that danced in Eli’s eyes as he stared down at her. If she told him they could not marry, the light would go out of those eyes. She did not stop the wedding. She wanted to. She should have. But she could not humiliate Eli. What would everyone think if she declared that the wedding could not go on? They would think that he was not good enough for her. And they would be wrong. So, so wrong.
If anyone wasn’t good enough for someone else, it was that she was not good enough for him.
Bishop Amos read from the Bible and said the words that are said at weddings. Catrina tried to listen, but she could not pay attention. The moment was coming when she would have to say “I do.” Those two, tiny words had such great meaning. They would bind her to Eli forever. He would be trapped in the arrangement, even if he wanted out once he learned the truth. Would he want out? Would he regret marrying her? Would he feel betrayed?
Eli nudged her side. Nervous laughter rippled through the congregation. Her eyes shot to Eli, then to Amos. “Oh.” More laughter, louder this time. Amos nodded at her. His expression looked urgent and concerned. “Go on, then,” he whispered.
“Oh.” Catrina realized this was it. This was the moment she had been dreading throughout the entire service. She was out of time. She could not stop the wedding now, in front of all these people!
The ground felt unstable. It rolled beneath her feet as dark spots began to dance before her eyes. She felt a strange, nauseous sensation as her stomach sank into her feet. Her body drifted away, into nothingness. . . .
Catrina awoke on the ground. She felt warm and safe. Strong arms cradled her head and she could smell the familiar, comforting scent of wool and pine. Lean muscles tensed beneath her soft flesh. She opened her eyes. The world swam and bubbled and she could not remember where she was.
And then Eli’s face came into focus. She had never seen an expression of concern like the one he wore. The color had drained from his face and his jaw tensed in a sharp, hard line. His eyes were wild. They roved across her in quick, panicked movements, searching for broken bones, for whatever might be wrong. He must look worse than she did, and he was not the one who had passed out at his own wedding!
Voices murmured from behind Eli. “The wrong one fainted!” someone shouted. Laughter and more murmuring. “She’s not fit for the backcountry, poor girl.” Catrina tried to raise her head. They did not understand. She was not given to fits of the vapors! She just could not bear to begin her marriage on a lie and she could not bear to humiliate Eli by stopping the wedding. Fine! Let them think she was too delicate to handle her own wedding! She would protect Eli. She would make sure they all knew how much she loved him.
“Catrina. Catrina, are you all right?” He whispered her name and ran his warm, calloused hand along her cheekbone. He was so fixated on her that he didn’t seem to notice the concerned whispers behind him. All he could see was how much he loved her. Catrina knew that she loved him just as fiercely.
“I do,” she said. The words came out in a slow croak. She sounded more like a frog than a beautiful bride. Oh well, no one is perfect.
The entire congregation roared with laughter. She had done it. She had married him. Not even unconsciousness had been able to stop her.
* * *
Eli felt that he was drifting through a dream. Everything had happened so quickly that nothing felt real. He hovered by Catrina’s side throughout the meal that the settlers always shared after services. He refused to leave her for an instant and every so often he asked if she felt all right. His hands hovered near her waist and shoulders, ready to catch her if she should faint again. Catrina smiled and shook her head and insisted that she was fine. Eli refused to take any chances. This was his wife. His wife!
Amos and Abraham both stopped to pat Catrina’s hand and murmur over her delicate nature. Catrina thanked them politely, but she frowned when they drifted away. “Everyone thinks that I’m so prim and proper.” She raised her chin a fraction and smiled. “I prefer the term conscientious. And there is nothing wrong with that.”
Eli grinned. “Nothing at all.”
“You know that I didn’t faint because I . . .” That adorable little wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. She closed her mouth and the frown returned.
“I know.”
Catrina smiled. “How can you? You don’t know what I was going to say.”
Eli shrugged. “Oh, I know enough about you by now. You fought a wolf single-handedly. You manage to create the most wonderful delicacies from an understocked backcountry kitchen. And, on top of it all, you manage to stay perfectly presentable, without a wrinkle or stain anywhere. That is not a drawback. That is an absolute talent!
“You don’t see my . . . conscientiousness as a weakness?”
Eli shook his head. “I see it as a strength. It is part of who you are. And I love all of you—even the idiosyncrasies.” He cleared his throat. “If they were idiosyncrasies. I am not saying that they are.” Couldn’t he manage to be debonair on his wedding day? He was not saying what he meant to say. But she looked pleased, anyway. Her lips began to curl into an indulgent smile. “I think you are perfect,” Eli said. “No, you are perfect.”
Catrina’s face changed and she looked away. She continued to smile, but the expression looked wistful, as if she could not quite believe him. He watched her for a moment, but she did not look back up at him. What was she thinking? Was he wrong to tell her she was perfect? Wasn’t that what husbands who are head over heels in love with their wives should say? Especially if they believed it. And he did.
Someone asked if there was cake. The question rumbled through the small crowd of families holding wooden trenchers and pewter plates.
“Catrina is the one who bakes cakes,” the Widow Yoder said.
Eli had not thought of cake. Catrina, whose love of sugar was infamous, would not have cake to celebrate her wedding. How remarkable. This had truly been a day like none before.
“It isn’t a celebration without one of Catrina’s cakes,” Greta said. She turned to Catrina. “I am so sorry. I should have baked something for you.”
Catrina laughed. Her troubled expression disappeared. “How could you? You didn’t know there would be a wedding until right before the service began!”
“I guess I just want you to know that I’m happy for you and that I’m glad we’re friends.”
Catrina put her hand on Greta’s arm and squeezed. “I don’t need you to bake a cake for me to know that.” Catrina’s lips slid into a sly half smile. “Besides, we all know what happens when you try to bake a cake.”
Greta put her hand over her eyes and shook her head. Jacob slung his arm around his wife’s shoulders and looked down at her with a smug expression. “Yes, we do.”
Greta elbowed him playfully. Jacob raised an eyebrow. A few people chuckled. They all remembered when Greta tried to impress Jacob by baking a cake with honey. Greta had been sure that she had found an ideal solution to the backcountry’s sugar shortage. Until she broke into the hive and discovered that the “honeybees” were wasps. The situation had gone downhill from there. Eli had heard the story already. The settlers were quite fond of telling it.
So many people sifted past the newlyweds to offer congratulations and slap Eli on the back that Eli did not have a chance to look for Gertrud. But the knowledge that she was there somewhere, quietly disappointed with the match, nibbled at the edge of his happiness. He wished this could be a day of pure joy, but that was impossible. This was real life and real life could never be that simple. He would have to deal with Gertrud and hold on to his happiness. Somehow everything would fall into place. It had to.
But the small, nagging feeling told him that it would not all fall into place. He had made a promise to his sister and broken it. No, that was not true. Strictly speaking, he had kept his promise. But the hurt it caused his sister was the same, nonetheless. If it were anyone else, he would expect them to step aside and understand. He would expect them to be reasonable.
But it was not anyone else. It was Gertrud. After he destroyed her life, the only reasonable thing was to commit the rest of his life to her happiness. He owed her. But he had gone against her and broken her heart. Again.
Eli looked down at Catrina. She maintained her soft, lovely smile, but he could see the strain behind it. The expression looked practiced, faked even. He felt a catch in his chest at the thought. It could not be as Gertrud said; Catrina could not be hiding something. Not from him.
But there was something behind that smile. Something careful and afraid. Something secret. Could she be hiding something? Could Gertrud be right? He looked away and caught a flicker of movement across the clearing. Gertrud stood alone beneath a pine tree with a wooden trencher balanced in her hands. Her venison was untouched. Her face looked hollow with disappointment and worry. Their eyes met and Eli felt a shudder shoot through his spine. Der Herr, don’t let her be right. Not now, after it is too late.
He dropped his eyes. Catrina leaned closer to him. It felt so good and so right to have her by his side. He breathed in the scent of lavender and rain that lingered on her freshly washed prayer kappe. How could he even think that she was hiding something? Her eyes flicked up to his and her hand tightened around his arm. He felt guilty and contrite. He owed Gertrud a lot, but that didn’t mean she was right.
He would not let his thoughts run away like that again. Catrina had nothing to hide and he would not betray her by thinking that she did. Everything would be all right. He had married the perfect woman. Nothing could possibly go wrong now.
* * *
Catrina could not believe her good fortune. Life with Eli was better than she could have imagined. He was thoughtful and considerate. He never raised his voice. He wanted nothing more than her happiness.
He was perfect.
Life with Gertrud, on the other hand, was not perfect. She watched Catrina with narrowed eyes from the far side of the cabin. They barely spoke. Catrina expected a quarrel when they first arrived home after the wedding. But Gertrud only sighed and sank onto the stool in front of her spinning wheel. Her shoulders slumped in resignation. It was that look of defeat and sadness that bothered Catrina the most. She thought it would be easier if Gertrud shouted and threatened. But instead, Gertrud refused to confront her. She did not rail against her or accuse Eli of making a bad match. She simply sat at the spinning wheel and stared at the wool wrapped around the wheel. Gertrud did not break the Sabbath by pumping the foot pedal or feeding the wool. She only sat and stared. Occasionally her stout, calloused fingers ran over a length of white wool, as if seeking comfort. But the wheel did not turn.
Catrina wanted it to be a day of celebration. Even Gertrud could not steal her joy. She had married the man of her dreams! Catrina wanted to sit by his side in perfect contentment. But she needed to tell Eli about that terrible decision she made two years ago in Philadelphia. It would not be easy. She could not speak freely inside the one-room cabin, where Gertrud could hear every word. “Let’s sit outside,” Catrina said, and took Eli’s hand. “Fresh air would do us good, ja?” She swallowed and glanced at Gertrud. “And we could talk . . .”
“Oh. That sounds lovely. But it’s raining.”
“It is?” Catrina tensed. She had not noticed. She had been too focused on the need to come clean to Eli. Her stomach sank. She would not be able to tell him until the weather cleared. Of course, she could force the issue and insist they go out in the rain. But no, she would not drag Eli outside to hear difficult news and get soaking wet on their wedding day. Better to wait. She felt thankful for the excuse the rain gave her. She could not help feeling relieved.
A small, nagging feeling told Catrina she should not put it off, that the longer she waited, the harder it would be to go through with it. But she told herself it would not make a difference. Surely they deserved one day of happiness together. What did another few hours or another day matter? She would tell him as soon as the weather cleared. And then . . . well, who knows what would happen then?
The rain did not stop and the new family spent the day together in a strange mix of joy and tension. Eli’s good-natured conversation filled the strained silences and hid the awkward looks that passed between the women, but his exuberance could not cover up the truth: Catrina shared a small cabin with someone who did not want her there. Thanks be to der Herr, Eli’s joy strengthened her. She managed to ignore Gertrud’s sidelong glances and disapproving expressions. She suspected that Eli suffered in silence as well, but he said nothing that might mar her happiness or make her feel uncomfortable in her new home.
Catrina saw that Eli watched his sister with hurt eyes. But whenever Catrina turned to him he forced a smile. Perhaps forced was not the right word. He was elated to have her for his wife. She knew that to be true. It was written all over his face and in his quick, excited movements. He ran his hands through his hair more often than usual. He bumped into things and sent pewter plates and mending baskets flying onto the dirt floor. And always, that big, goofy grin lit up his face like a child who had been given the best, shiniest present he could have imagined.
Eli and Catrina fetched her belongings early the next morning, as soon as the rain stopped. She still had not found the right time to speak to him about her past. She wanted to get the words out on the way to her grandparents’ homestead, but the walk was too short. She told herself she would do it on the way back.
Georg and Frena met the couple in the doorway, hugged Catrina, and helped gather her things and carry them to Eli’s handcart. The morning felt full of promise as they headed back to the Webber homestead. The sun hovered above the tree line and pointed bright, happy fingers toward her new home. Everything felt right and good. She strolled by Eli’s side as he fought to steer the handcart across the muddy field. Every few steps the wheels caught on a stone or a ditch and they had to stop, work the cart free, and give it a good shove to get it started again.
Catrina knew this was her chance. She did not know when they would be alone again. She hesitated, but she knew the longer she waited, the harder it would be to tell him. She gathered her courage and opened her mouth to speak. At the same moment, a quilt slipped off the cart and Eli dove for it. He thumped his elbow against the side of the cart and splattered muddy water on his waistcoat as his knee crashed into a puddle, but managed to catch the quilt before it hit the wet earth. He straightened, adjusted his black beaver-felt hat, and held the unsoiled cloth toward Catrina like a prize. She laughed as she took it from him, refolded it, and tucked it deeper into the cart. She winked at him. “I think you and I will get along just fine, Eli Webber.”
He grinned. “I usually drop things instead of catch them.”
Catrina laughed again. “You’re perfect, you know.”
“Ach.” Eli smiled sheepishly and looked away. Catrina recognized the boyish expression, but she caught something else in it too. There was a flicker of emotion that looked like shame. She recognized it because she knew it so well. But what on earth would Eli have to be ashamed of?
The thought of shame reminded her that she had to tell him now, before she lost her chance—or her nerve. She swallowed and looked down. How would she explain it all? How to form the words? She cleared her throat. “Eli, I have to tell you something.”
“Catrina!” Frena shouted from across the field.
They would not have their moment, after all. Catrina did not know whether to be relieved or disappointed. No matter how hard she tried, she had not had a chance to come clean to Eli since the wedding yesterday. She would have to try harder. She hoped she was not finding excuses to put it off. It was easy to think that she’d get to it in the next hour, or the next day—anything to put off what she feared would happen when she told him.
Eli struggled to stop the handcart as Frena hurried to catch up. She was out of breath when she reached them, but her eyes were shining. She held up a small burlap sack. “I forgot to give you this.”
Catrina gasped. “The sugar!”
“For you, my sweet.”
“I already took my share. This is yours.”
“We want you to have it all.”
Catrina took the bag and pressed it to her chest. “It’s the best wedding present you could have given me.”
Frena grinned. “I know.”
Catrina waited for her grandmother to head back home, but she lingered beside them as they finished the walk back to the Webber cabin. Frena chatted about the weather, the lovely wedding service, and how happy the couple looked. “And your grandfather and I are happy too,” she added. “So very happy for you both! We didn’t think you’d ever find a good match.”
“How could she lack for a good match?” Eli laughed. “I’m sure she had suitors lined up, beautiful as she is.”
Frena’s expression fell. Catrina knew that her grandmother had not meant to say too much. Frena was so happy, she had gotten carried away in the moment. Catrina knew all about that. She had gotten so carried away in the moment that she had married a man without telling him the full truth about herself!
Catrina did not know what to say. She wanted to tell Eli the truth. She had tried to tell Eli the truth. But now the moment was gone—her grandmother was there and they were almost to the cabin. Gertrud stood in the threshold, watching them. Catrina closed her eyes against the glare of the sun. She could see an orange glow from behind her closed lids. Birds twittered from the edge of the forest and a calm breeze whipped at her skirts. She would do the only thing she knew to do to make her feel better about the situation. “Let’s celebrate with a cake tonight. We didn’t have any sweets after our wedding.”
Eli put his arm around her and squeezed. “You and I think alike. Frena is right, you know.”
“About what?”
“That we are a perfect match.”
“Yes.” She stood without moving for a long, warm moment. The sun shone across her skin as Eli’s strong, firm arm held her. She was almost completely happy. When she opened her eyes again she would not think about her worries. She would think about cake. Cake made everything better.