Johanna's Bridegroom (5 page)

Charley was always quick with a joke, but he and his brother were close. Under his breezy manner, Charley hid a smart, sensible mind and a caring heart. Roland had to talk to somebody, and Charley and he had shared their successes and disappointments since they were old enough to confide in each other.

“Brought you some lamb stew,” Charley said. “And some biscuits. Figured you wouldn’t bother to make your own supper. You never did have the sense to eat regular.”

“If I ate as much as you, I’d be the size of LeRoy Zook.”

Charley pulled a face. “Don’t try to deny it. You don’t eat right. What did you have for breakfast?”

“An egg-and-bologna sandwich with cheese.”

“And dinner? Did you even have dinner today?”

Roland didn’t answer. He’d had the strawberry snow cone. He’d had every intention of asking Johanna if she’d join him for the chicken-and-dumpling special that the Mennonite ladies were offering, but after their disagreement, he’d lost his appetite.

“So, no dinner and no supper. You’re a pitiful case, brother. Good thing that I remembered to bring you Ruth’s lamb stew. She made enough for half the church.”

“I appreciate the stew and biscuits, but I can do without your sass,” Roland answered.

When the shoe was shaped to suit him, Roland pressed it to the mare’s front left hoof to make certain of the fit, then heated it and hammered it into place. Last, he checked the hoof for any ragged edges and pronounced the work sound. He released the animal’s leg, patted her neck, and glanced back at his brother.

“I’ve ruined it all between Johanna and me,” he said. And then, quickly, before he regretted his confession, he told Charley what had happened earlier in the day. “She asked me to marry her,” he said when he was done with his sad tale. “And fool that I am, I refused her.” He raised his gaze to meet his brother’s. “I don’t want a partner,” he said. “I couldn’t go into a marriage with a woman who didn’t love me—not a second time. Pauline was a good woman. We never exchanged a harsh word in all the years we were married, but I was hoping for more.”

Charley removed the sprig of new clover he’d been nibbling on. “You love Johanna, and you want her to love you back.”

Roland nodded. “I do.” He swallowed, but the lump in his throat wouldn’t dissolve. He turned away, went to the old well, slid aside the heavy wooden cover and cranked up a bucket of cold water. Taking a deep breath, he dumped the bucket over his head and sweat-soaked undershirt. The icy water sluiced over him, but it didn’t wash away the hurt or the pain of the threat of losing Johanna a second time. “Was I wrong to turn her down, Charley? Am I cutting off my nose to spite my face? Maybe I would be happier having her as a wife who respects me, but doesn’t love me, instead of not having her at all.”

Charley tugged at his close-cropped beard, a beard that Preacher Reuben disapproved of and even Samuel had rolled his eyes at, a beard that some might think was too short for a married man. “You want my honest opinion? Or do you just want to whine and have someone listen?”

“You think I’ve made a terrible mistake, don’t you? Say it, if that’s what you think. I can take it.”

Charley came to the well, cranked up a second bucket of water and used an enamel dipper to take a drink. Then he poured the rest of the bucket into a pail for the mare. She dipped her velvety nose in the water and slurped noisily.

Roland wanted to shake his brother. In typical fashion, Charley was taking his good old time in applying the heat, letting Roland suffer as he waited to hear the words. Finally, when he’d nearly lost the last of his patience, Charley nodded and glanced back from the mare.

“You’re working yourself into a lather for nothing, brother. Don’t you remember what a chase Miriam gave me? ‘We’re friends, Charley,’” he mimicked. “‘You’re just like a brother.’ Do you think I wanted to be Miriam’s friend? I loved her since she was in leading strings, since we slept in the same cradle as nurslings. Miriam was the sun and moon for me. It’s not right for a Christian man to say such things, but sinner that I am, it’s how I feel about her. But you know what men say about the Yoder girls.”

Roland nodded. “They’re a handful.”

“It’s true,” Charley agreed. “From Hannah right down to Rebecca. Even Susanna, one of God’s sweetest children, has her stubborn streak.”

“But they’re true as rain.” Roland ran his fingers through his wet hair. “Strong and good as any woman I’ve ever met, and that includes our sister Mary.”

“Exactly. Worth the trouble, and worth the wait.” He smiled. “You know I’ve never been a betting man. The preachers say the Good Book warns against wagering, and I take that as gospel. But if I was an Englishman without a care for his soul, I’d risk my new Lancaster buggy against a pair of cart wheels that you and Johanna will be married by Christmas next. Mark my words, brother. Everyone in the family knows it. The two of you will come to your senses and work this out. And if you don’t, I’ll grow my beard out as long and full as Bishop Atlee’s himself.”

Chapter Five

A
t nine-thirty on Tuesday morning, Johanna tied Blackie to a hitching rail under a shady tree at the back of one of the buildings at Spence’s Auction and Bazaar. Some people didn’t bother to remove the bridles of their animals at market, but
Dat
had taught her differently. If a horse had to stand for hours, he didn’t need a bit in his mouth. The halter was just as secure and more comfortable for the horse. Any animal deserved respect and loving care, especially one who served so faithfully in pulling the carriage and helping with farm work.

After Johanna had watered Blackie and double-checked his tie rope, she took her split-oak market basket, containing a dozen jars of clover honey, and carried it through the milling shoppers to the family booth.

This spring, the Yoders had had been blessed to take over the space of another Amish family, who was moving to Iowa. The stand was inside a three-sided shed, a little smaller than what they’d had outside, but in an excellent location and sheltered from the weather. Sometimes they sold vegetables from
Mam’s
garden, and—depending on the season—they offered honey, homemade jams and preserves, pickles and relishes, and holiday wreaths. And since they’d acquired the new, shaded booth, Aunt Jezzy had taken over running the table with help from whichever Yoder sister was available.

Going to Spence’s two days a week and selling to strangers was a big step for Aunt Jezzy because she was naturally shy around the English.
Mam
had secretly wondered if it wasn’t too much to expect of her, but after a few weeks, Aunt Jezzy had really taken to the job and had proved to be an excellent businesswoman. Her cashbox always balanced out to the penny, and she quickly became popular with customers and other sellers.

Grace had dropped Aunt Jezzy and Rebecca off early that morning on her way to the local community college, where she was studying to be a veterinary technician, but her classes didn’t let out until five today. Johanna would have to remain until afternoon to drive her aunt and sister home when they closed the booth. Usually, Johanna brought Katy or Jonah or both with her, but since they’d gone to spend the day at Anna’s, she was alone.

The weather was warm and sunny, and there seemed to be a lot of people at Spence’s that morning. As Johanna entered the open building with her heavy basket, she was pleased to see several regular customers standing at the table, and her display of honey and beeswax lip salve and soap nearly gone. Aunt Jezzy was counting out change to an older man, and Rebecca was bagging the last pint of strawberries, berries that Susanna had picked before breakfast.

How pleased her little sister would be to add to the savings she kept in a hen-shaped crockery jar under her bed. This morning, Susanna had whispered that she was going to buy
Mam
a birthday present. Of course, last week, she’d wanted Charley to buy her a pink pig with black spots, and at supper last night, she’d announced that she wanted a big dog and a cart, so she and King David could drive it to Dover every day. Susanna always had plans, but no matter how they turned out, she was always happy.

Susanna is truly blessed with a loving spirit,
Johanna thought.
She was born with the grace I’ve always struggled to find.

Rebecca glanced up and smiled. “Hi. We were wondering where you were. Your bee-tending took longer at Roland’s than you expected?” she said in Pennsylvania
Deutch.

Johanna ignored her sister’s teasing remark. “It was a busy morning,” she said, once the customers had been waited on and moved on. “You’ve sold a lot.”

“Ya,”
Aunt Jezzy agreed as she spun the closed moneybox exactly three complete rotations before stashing it safely under the table. “Most of Susanna’s strawberries went right away,” she said, continuing on in the same dialect. Aunt Jezzy’s English was excellent, but she always preferred Pennsylvania Dutch when they were alone or with other Amish. “Without Rebecca’s help, I would have been hard-pressed. She is a good girl, your sister. Always kind to me and your
grossmama,
Lovina, when she and Leah stayed with us in Ohio.”

“I think we did so well because a tourist bus from Washington stopped,” Rebecca explained, switching the conversation back to English. “Some of the people started staring and asked silly questions, but then Leah’s husband’s aunt Joyce came over. She spoke up, saying how the salve was organic. One lady bought a lip balm and tried it right away. And then the others started buying.”

“They snapped up those fancy half-pint jars of honey, too,” Aunt Jezzy said. “And never argued about the price.” She chuckled. “But they talked loud, like I was deaf.”

“You handled them perfectly,” Rebecca said. “You should have seen her, Johanna.
Schmaert.
Smiling, and so quaint.” Rebecca giggled. “
Vit
a heavy
Deutch
accent. And when one Englisher whipped out her cell phone to take a photograph of her, Aunt Jezzy turned her back. She refused to wait on anyone else. Then the bus driver blew his horn to leave, and the other tourists made the woman put her cell away so they could buy before they had to go.”

Aunt Jezzy’s cheeks glowed rosy with pleasure at the praise. “Maybe it’s not this
narrisch
old woman. Maybe your sister Rebecca is why you sold so many of those salves and soaps. She made those pretty labels with her good handwriting. And it’s good that she can talk so easily to the English.”

Rebecca beamed. “It’s wonderful honey,” she said. “It sells itself. Johanna does all the work.”

“I think the bees do most of it,” Aunt Jezzy said.

“God’s handiwork.” Rebecca smiled. “You’re right to remind us, Aunt Jezzy. We receive so many blessings from Him every day.”

Johanna nodded and busied herself arranging the jars of honey she’d brought with her. She could always trust Rebecca to remember what was important. The two of them hadn’t been as close as they might have been when they were growing up. Rebecca had been younger and unwilling to listen to a bossy older sister, and Johanna feared she’d underestimated Rebecca.

But since Leah had married Daniel and gone away to South America to be a Mennonite missionary, Rebecca had stepped in to fill the empty place in Johanna’s heart. Why had she never realized how wise Rebecca was? Strong in her faith and always willing to turn a hand to what needed doing, Rebecca reminded Johanna so much of their mother.

But Rebecca would marry soon and start her own family, Johanna thought. She might move away, as well. Johanna didn’t want to dwell on that. She’d never liked change, and she needed her family around her, all of them, even Aunt Jezzy,
Grossmama
and their new sister, Grace, and ’Kota.
If only I could keep them all close to me.

Rebecca brushed Johanna’s hand with her own. “The past few years have been difficult for you, I know,” she murmured. “But the Lord never deserted you, even in your darkest hour.”

Johanna nodded, too full of emotion to speak. Her sister’s words were true. Her own life might be in turmoil, but she had never felt deserted by His mercy. He had kept her and her children safe from Wilmer’s rage, and He had provided a refuge for them in the arms of her family.

Johanna couldn’t imagine what she would have done if her mother hadn’t welcomed her and her children into her home. Sometimes, Johanna thought that the easiest thing to do would be to remain there under her mother’s roof, supporting Jonah and Katy by selling her quilts, her wool, her turkeys and her honey.

Aunt Jezzy had never married, and she never seemed to mind. She went her own way, tapping on wood, spinning her coffee cup three times before she added her sugar, talking to herself when she was alone and always wearing violet-colored dresses. In spite of her nonconformity, she seemed unconcerned by what others thought of her and was always smiling. Maybe some of the Yoder women were meant to follow a different path.

“Rebecca didn’t have time to get her breakfast,” Aunt Jezzy said, tugging Johanna from her thoughts. “You two go along and have a good chat. It’s slower now. I’ll be fine until you get back.”

“Are you sure?” Rebecca asked, but she tucked her pencil and small notepad into her apron pocket.

For years, Rebecca had been a faithful correspondent, submitting Kent County happenings to the
Budget,
the paper subscribed to and read by Amish and Mennonites all over the world. Her sister had never signed her name, simply putting
Your Delaware Neighbor
at the bottom of her submissions. The
Budget
shared news of new neighbors, farms sold, visitors, births, illnesses, weddings and deaths. It was a way for those apart from the world to remain connected to each other and, in her small way, Rebecca helped to hold the larger Amish community together.

“We won’t be long,” Johanna promised her aunt. “I came to help, not to sit and visit and drink iced tea.”

“Take your time,” Aunt Jezzy urged with a wave. “You work too hard, both of you. You’re young. Enjoy yourself for once.”

As soon as they were out of their aunt’s earshot, Rebecca asked, “So, was he there this morning when you went to tend your bees?”

“Ne.”
Johanna shook her head. “His sister Mary was there with J.J. Did you know that she’s walking out with Donald Troyer? They rode home from the Kings’ last Sunday night.”

“I hadn’t heard.” Rebecca’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “But you know Mary. She never stays long with one boy. She told me she doesn’t want to marry for years yet. She’s having too much fun.”

Johanna waited, knowing Rebecca would ask.

“So, Roland hasn’t spoken to you since he turned you down on Saturday?”

“I’d rather not talk about Roland Byler.”

Rebecca made a face. “You want to talk about him. You know you do.”

Johanna shook her head again. She did, she supposed, but Rebecca shouldn’t be able to see through her so easily. “It was mortifying. I never would have asked him to marry me, if I thought he’d refuse. I was so sure that he...that he cared for me.”

“It must have been awful for you.” Rebecca stopped to look at a pewter sugar bowl and pitcher for sale. “Pretty, aren’t they?”

“You could buy them for your hope chest.” Johanna checked the bottom. There was no price marked. “How much for the set?” she asked the woman behind the table. The shape was graceful but simple, perfect. An Amish kitchen was plain, but there were no rules on dishes or tableware. It was a set that Johanna would have loved on her own counter.

When the clerk quoted a price, Rebecca nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

“It might be gone when you come back,” the seller, a pleasant Asian-American woman in a red straw hat and sunglasses, said.

“I know,” Rebecca answered. “But I need to decide if I want them.” She walked on and Johanna followed.

“If you like the creamer and sugar bowl, you should make an offer,” Johanna urged. “Nice things don’t last long, not when the sale is so busy.”

Rebecca arched an eyebrow. “Could it be the same with good men? If you wait too long to decide, does someone else snap them up?”

“Roland. You’re talking about Roland.” Johanna’s mouth firmed. “I asked him to marry me. What else can I do?”

Rebecca stopped and looked at her. “Maybe you didn’t ask him the right way.” She gestured to an open doorway, and Johanna followed her outside, into an alley that ran between two buildings. Rebecca glanced both ways, and—when she saw that they were alone—said, “Everyone thinks you’re the sensible Yoder girl, the one with the good head on your shoulders. Practical Johanna. They don’t know you the way your family does. You’re smart, but sometimes you come off too strong, too unemotional. It makes people think you don’t feel things. In here.” She touched the place over her heart. “Maybe Roland wants a courtship. Maybe he’s not so practical. Maybe he wants romance.”

“Romance? At our age?”

“Don’t be so quick to knock romance,” Rebecca said. “Even men can be sentimental.”

Johanna frowned. “Could it be that
my
asking
him
upset him? That he thinks I’m too forward for a woman?”

“I doubt that. He’s known you all your life. He knows you speak your mind.” Rebecca considered. “Did you ever think that Roland might be as scared as you of remarrying? He lost his wife, and he’s been hurt, maybe more than you have, because she never hurt him like...”

“Like Wilmer,” Johanna supplied. “It’s all right. We can be honest with each other.”

“
Ya,
we know what Wilmer was like before he passed. Some of it, but you didn’t share everything that happened.”

“I couldn’t. I was ashamed.”

“I understand,” Rebecca agreed. “But Roland isn’t Wilmer. Roland is sweet like Charley. You know how Charley feels about Miriam. Can you blame Roland for wanting to be sure? For wanting the kind of love match his brother has?”

Johanna swallowed. For a moment, all her fears rose inside her.

Rebecca gripped her arm. “And what about you? Are you certain you’re ready to remarry? Can you turn your life over to another man? To accept him as head of your family? To obey him?”

“It’s the right thing to do...the sensible thing for our children.”

“And you always have to be
sensible,
don’t you?” Rebecca asked.

“I don’t know.” Johanna clenched her damp hands. “I suppose it’s in my nature. And Ruth and Miriam and Anna are sure Roland and I would make a good marriage. Even
Mam
thinks—”

“
Mam
isn’t marrying him. It has to be you,” Rebecca said. “Maybe when you’re sure...with your heart—not just your head—maybe then, Roland would say yes.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

Rebecca’s eyes brimmed with compassion. “Then you wait until God sends you another opportunity.”

“How long?”

Rebecca shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe until the cows come home or you’re as old as Aunt Jezzy.” She motioned toward the lunchroom. “Now let’s eat. I’m starving.”

Johanna nodded again. Another moment, and she’d have been in tears. And she didn’t want to go back to Aunt Jezzy with red eyes, because their aunt would want to know what was wrong.