Chapter 39

EARLY WEDNESDAY MORNING, Lucy went to the outer room between the kitchen and the back porch and slipped on her black coat, thinking she ought to help Martie more frequently this week. She’ll be relieved to see me.

Stepping outside, Lucy watched a flock of geese fly like miniature arrows over the barnyard in a perfect V formation, their wings beating rhythmically.

Lettie scurried out of the house and onto the porch steps just behind her. “Ach, so glad I caught ya, Lucy. Would ya mind if I walk over to Martie’s with you? Maybe I’ll stay an’ help with Jesse and Josh while you clean or cook or whatever.”

“I’d like your company, sure.” Lucy was curious; Lettie had never sought her out like this before. “Is Faye comin’, too?”

“She wants to go with Mamm over to Glicks’ while they’re gone to look over some items set aside for the big sale next month. I guess there will be a few others there, too. The Glicks want to move things quickly, in preparation for the bigger move early next spring—might even be March, I heard.”

Ah, so she’s dying to talk more about Tobe, thought Lucy, not sure she was up for it.

“By the way, Mammi Flaud said something ’bout all of us helping her with some piecework for one of her quilts sometime after communion Sunday,” Lettie said with a glance at the Dawdi Haus.

At the mention of communion, Lucy felt tense.

“Fasting day is this Friday, don’t forget.” Lettie looked at Lucy. “And I hope ya feel well enough to attend on Sunday.”

So, Lettie had noticed. Most likely everyone else had, too. “Bein’ healthy’s a gut thing, ’specially for Holy Communion.” Lucy meant it in more than one way, but let it be. Nourishing a healthy body . . . and soul.

They headed up to Witmer Road at a brisk pace, staying on the shoulder, off the pavement. The morning haze had begun to lift as the sun shone across the fields.

“Listen, Lettie,” said Lucy, “I’m real sorry for not being very sisterly. I just always assumed Faye was the sister you most cared ’bout.”

Lettie dipped her head. “It’s obvious why you might think that.”

“Ain’t a gut excuse, though.”

They walked in unison, their shoes scuffing against the pebbles along the roadside. Several carriages passed by, and she and Lettie waved at Aunt Edna Lapp in the first one, followed later by the Millers. Lucy thought of Dat’s sharing about Minnie and was glad to be on much better footing with him now.

“If ya wanna know the whole truth of what happened between Matthew Mast and me,” Lettie said as they took the bend in the road, “I was flippant, even suggested he might find someone in Colorado who wasn’t nearly as much fun as me.”

“You said that?” Lucy was surprised. “Wait . . . the Masts are leavin’, too?”

“Didn’t ya know?”

Lucy shook her head.

“Well, the way things are goin’ with Mark and Faye, I wouldn’t be surprised if Faye ends up out there, too,” Lettie revealed. “They’ll be married eventually.”

Lucy gasped. “You two are like sugar peas in a pod, though! Faye’d actually leave ya behind?”

“That’s another reason why I’ve struggled lately.”

“Oh, Lettie.” Lucy stopped walking and reached for her hand. “I had no idea.”

When Lettie settled a bit, she dried her eyes. “I can’t imagine Faye goin’ away. It’ll feel like my right arm is missin’.”

Lucy agreed. “And I can’t figure out why this notion of joinin’ another settlement so far away is catchin’ on with our church members.” She thought of Martie’s concerns again.

“Ya surely know that Tobe’s decided to go with his family, too. They’ve got a good offer from Bishop Smucker—I s’pose their place is as good as sold.”

“Jah, Tobe told me this himself.”

Talking about this with Lettie brought it all back—Tobe’s courtship proposal, the pleasant night she’d walked with him nearly to the Lincoln Highway, and Tobe’s friendship all these years.

“You’re upset, ain’t ya?” Lettie blew her nose.

“Just wonderin’ how much this will affect our community.”

Lettie nodded. “Faye argues that it’s not anything that comes as a surprise, though, ’cause Plain families have been doin’ this sort of thing for years.”

“Do Dat and Mamm know Faye might be followin’ the Masts out there?”

“Not yet.”

Lucy breathed a grateful sigh as Ray and Martie’s house came into view. She didn’t feel like mentioning that their brother James was also headed that direction, nor Martie’s worry that Ray was considering this, as well.

Lettie can hear this directly from Martie, Lucy thought sadly. If it comes to that.

Thursday morning, the day of Dorothea’s funeral, Lucy got up in time to bathe and dress, then left with one of their paid drivers in the passenger van. Several other Amish folk from her district were headed for the same church gathering, including Rhoda Blank and her husband from Bird-in-Hand.

When she entered the church, Lucy noticed Dale standing off to the side, wearing a black suit, white shirt, and subdued black-and-gray-striped tie. When he spotted her, Dale walked her way, his smile bright. “Would you like to sit together?” he asked, mentioning that his mother was under the weather and unable to make it.

Lucy realized the Amish folk from the van had already gotten in line to sign the guest book, so she and Dale did, too. Secretly, she was glad Dale had singled her out.

“Is your father coming?” Dale asked, handing her an order of service with a picture of a younger Dorothea on the cover.

“His work has him tied up.” She was surprised Dale would even expect him to attend.

Following his lead into the church sanctuary, Lucy noticed many sprays of flowers along the front, as well as the pure white casket adorned with a mass of peach-colored roses on top. Everything about this funeral was completely foreign, but she smiled, remembering Dorothea’s penchant for peaches.

The first two hymns were unfamiliar to Lucy, but she followed along in the songbook, and after hearing the first verse and chorus, tried to sing along, though softly. Dale’s deep voice was reassuring.

Before the sermon, four of Clinton and Dorothea’s grown children and two of their grandchildren stood before the packed church and spoke of their mother and grandmother’s virtues, as well as sharing favorite memories. Dorothea’s eldest daughter, Elaina, talked about the simple joy of just being with her, sitting and talking over warm tea. “That alone was my greatest delight.”

When Clinton slowly rose to his feet, Lucy was surprised he had the strength to get up and speak. The place was hushed as he walked with his cane and some assistance from one of his grandsons to a podium set up near the closed casket. The dear man looked ever so feeble and pale.

“It may have seemed to anyone who knew me back then that I had somehow rescued Dorothea,” he began. “Nevertheless, while I was attempting to live a pleasing life before the Lord, I was also terribly lonely, missing the young woman who had come in and out of my life . . . the girl who one day would become my wife.”

He removed his white handkerchief and wiped his eyes. “It was around that time that I purchased an embroidered bookmark to give to Dottie and tucked it into the New Testament.

“That day, I learned something about Dorothea’s name. It means God’s gift.” A sigh rippled through the crowd as he looked fondly at the casket, then moved to take a single peach-colored rose from the massive bouquet. “And quite truly, in every way, Dottie was God’s gift to me.”

Lucy pressed her hand over her mouth, fighting tears, and for just an instant, Dale reached over and covered her free hand with his. Startled, she was glad her father had not come today.