CHAPTER
8
Easter Sunday evening, after Singing, Tom invited Leona to ride in his spanking-clean courting carriage. She thought he seemed especially upbeat as he helped her into the buggy.
“Did your Mamm mention that I stopped in to buy one of your wreaths for my mother?” he asked, grinning as he took his seat next to her.
“She did, jah.”
“It’s real perty, and Mamm was ever so surprised and pleased.”
“Aw, gut to know she likes it.”
“She also likes your peanut butter spread, so I’ll have to get some at your mother’s market stand.” He reached for the driving lines but not before giving her a wink. “Mamm says it’s sweeter than any she’s tasted. It sure goes mighty fast at our house,” he added with a chuckle.
As the horse stepped onto the road from the drive, he said, “I’d like to take you to a nice restaurant tomorrow night . . . for supper. Okay with you?”
“Sounds just wunnerbaar.”
“I want it to be an extra-special evening for us.” He looked at her, his features clearly visible in the moonlight as he reached for her hand.
She felt her heart flicker and smiled, not daring to let herself assume what he had in mind. Still, she could hope.
Leona spent Easter Monday, a day Amish businesses were closed, visiting with Bishop Mast’s teenage granddaughters, Mary Sue and Sarah Ann, after an invigorating game of volleyball with other courting-age girls in the neighborhood. Mahlon had dropped by for Dat and Dawdi Benuel, and they’d all gone fishing, their annual tradition. Mamma, for her part, had been content to visit Maggie and the children for the day.
As each hour passed, Leona found herself preoccupied with the special supper date that evening. Oh, she could scarcely wait to see her beau again!
The quaint restaurant Tom chose was quiet at this hour, old-fashioned-looking candleholders on each table, the candle on theirs already lit. It was a lovely place, one Tom had not brought Leona to before, but she had always wondered what it was like inside, and here she was, sitting across from her darling beau. His eyes shone as he invited her to order whatever she’d like.
“Are ya sure?” she asked, wanting to follow his lead and not overspend.
“Absolutely. Whatever you wish.”
His eyes searched hers, and she reveled in his attention.
Another couple, older and not Amish, came in and took a table in the far corner, and Tom glanced at them, then back at Leona, smiling as if glad their own nook remained private.
The background music was soft and pretty, and the delicate, melodious strains reminded her of something she’d once heard in a driver’s van while going to the Lancaster Central Market.
“Do you like it here?” Tom asked, making small talk after the waiter came to take their order.
“Real nice, jah. How’d ya hear ’bout it?”
“Well, Orchard John told me.”
She wasn’t surprised, considering Tom and her cousin had become fast friends during the past few years.
“Orchard John’s awful nice.” She paused, then forged ahead. “Does he ever mention Gloria?”
Tom shook his head. “Rarely, but I’m pretty sure he still misses her.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He hardly ever dates, for one.”
“Has he heard from—”
“No letters that I know of.” Tom smiled kindly. “You’d think, as fond as Gloria was of writing and all, she might’ve let one of the two of ya know where her family ended up.”
It was still a tender issue, so Leona was rather glad when their orders came—meatloaf and mashed potatoes for her, and a hot turkey sandwich for him. Leona bowed her head as Tom offered a silent prayer of blessing.
“Before we start,” he said, leaning forward, “there’s something I’d like to ask ya, Leona.”
She set down her fork and folded her hands in her lap, not sure what to make of this.
“Ya know I’m in love with you. And not only that but committed to lovin’ you for all the rest of my days . . . if you’ll have me for your husband.”
Oh, she thought her heart might pop right out of her chest. She’d long hoped this day might come, but nothing had prepared her for the rush of emotion she felt now. “Jah,” she managed to get out, her mouth suddenly as dry as a wad of yarn. “I love you thataway, too, Tom. And I would be happy to be your bride.”
A smile encompassed his handsome face, and he clapped his hands once softly as he leaned back in the chair. “I’ve wanted to ask you for such a long while now.”
“Must we keep it a secret from our families, or—”
He shook his head. “I say it’s time they know. My father’s even been pokin’ around the topic here lately, knowing I’ve been saving up so we could have a gut start once we’re wed.”
“To be honest, the other day, after you dropped by for the wreath—my mother was fishin’ around for details ’bout us. I told her we’re gut friends, but apparently she was hopin’ for more.”
“If I could have managed to swing it sooner, believe me, we’d be married by now.”
She took small bites of mashed potatoes and gravy, but Tom’s sandwich soon lay nearly forgotten as he talked about getting married at the start of this year’s wedding season.
“Early November, then?” she asked.
“All right with you?”
Leona nodded, so delighted she could hardly think of eating. Tom hadn’t said where they would live, but some newlyweds stayed with parents or in empty Dawdi Hauses until the spring. Whatever Tom decided would be fine with her. Wherever we can be together . . .
On the ride home, Tom’s horse trotted faster, or maybe it just seemed that way to Leona, who felt like she wasn’t riding at all but rather floating through the silvery moonlight, her hand in Tom’s.
As they passed over a bridge near some marshland, the smell of a newly plowed field mingled with the fragrant night air, and Leona knew she’d never been happier.
Tom saw Leona home and said good-night, which was mighty difficult since, as usual, he really didn’t want to say good-bye. Even though he’d been almost certain of Leona’s answer, he was so relieved she’d said yes.
Once home, he made swift work of unhitching his mare, then stabled and watered her. That done, he moved the courting buggy into the carriage shed and outened the lantern.
He felt too keyed up to head for bed, thoughts of making a home with Leona filling his imagination. Instead, he was hungry again and found some of his mother’s leftover blueberry muffins wrapped in the bread box on the counter. He poured a glass of cold milk from the fridge and walked out onto the back porch and stood there, reliving Leona’s joyful expression when he proposed.
At the time, he’d thought it was a good thing they were in a public place, because the temptation was mighty strong to simply take her into his arms and kiss her again and again, sealing their love.
Tom finally headed upstairs, but it wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed that he had to push back the nagging question that sometimes haunted him when he least expected it. If Arkansas Joe hadn’t up and left with his family, would Leona be mine?
He sighed and closed the laundry hamper. It doesn’t matter, he reminded himself, pulling back the bed quilt. Adam is long gone, and the Good Lord has seen fit to answer my deepest prayer.