Mandy found this ever so peculiar; a bride always got married in her parents’ home. “Why here?” she couldn’t help asking.
“She agreed to honor my family. My elderly grandparents want to be at the wedding, and there’s no way they could make the trip to Indiana.”
“Oh.” Mandy could understand that.
“And we’ll be livin’ here in Hickory Hollow with my parents till we can get our own place.”
“That’s real nice of them.”
“Jah. And you’ll like Glenice. I just know it.”
She forced a smile. “I don’t have to like her, Norm. But you do.”
He chuckled and they walked for a few seconds without saying more. Then Norm mentioned Marcus King’s untimely death, startling her. “He wrote not many months ago, askin’ if I’d consider returning home if he was to marry.”
Does Tessie know?
“He never said who his sweetheart-girl was, so I guess he wanted to follow the more traditional way and keep it quiet till—”
“Marcus is gone, so what’s it matter?” she interrupted, peeved at this personal talk. She reached for the storm door and held it for him. Nodding, he headed into the enclosed porch-like room with the box as she deliberately stood there, lingering to thwart the notion that she’d actually go in with him.
Thankfully, Sylvan was nowhere to be seen, undoubtedly having gone to the front room to visit with his father and the other men. Lord, have mercy on this day! Mandy prayed in earnest, relieved when Norman grimaced at her and turned to head back outside to wait for his parents—and his Glenice.
Have mercy, indeed!
Chapter 14
Tessie sat on the floor in the front room with her young nephews and nieces, entertaining them near the heater stove. Giggling and babbling in Deitsch, the children helped her carefully place the colorful wooden blocks to build a four-sided tower. Although she loved hearing the little ones burst into happy squeals, she had to be mindful not to let first Manny, then Matthew, knock the tower down too quickly, before they had a chance to get it all the way up.
“Dawdi Ammon made these blocks,” she told them. “Before I was born.”
After the simple festivities of visiting, eating desserts, and singing hymns related to Jesus’ birth, the adults exchanged greeting cards—many homemade. Later, Manny, Matthew, Mae, and Marian opened their small gifts of hard candies, coloring books, and crayons. Towheaded and curly-haired Mimi primly pulled the wrapping off her cloth baby doll with a pink blanket sleeper sewn onto it. Bringing the dolly with her, she toddled over to Tessie and raised her dimpled arms, apparently wanting to sit on her lap.
It wasn’t long, though, till restless Mimi wanted down. She promptly waddled over to Dawdi Ammon, who was more than willing to set her on his knee. “Hup-die-duden-du!—Upsy-daisy!” he said again and again, grinning.
And for this moment in time—this special day of days—Tessie felt a little less sad, as if the sweetness of the children offered a comfort she hadn’t known since Marcus’s death.
Oh, my dear, dear Marcus, we’re going to have a baby, she thought while the extended family joined in silent prayer after Bible reading.
The minute her sisters and their families departed, Tessie set about helping Mamma redd up once again. After a while, she suddenly felt tired and made the mistake of telling Mamma.
“Well, you’ve looked flushed all day, Tessie Ann.”
“Overeating has made me weary, I think.” She shrugged and tried to smile.
Mamma pushed up her small glasses. Then, frowning, she reached to pat her hand. “Ach, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were with child, my dear girl.”
Tessie kept her face straight and relaxed, not daring to respond in any way. Yet her heart was hammering so hard, she wondered if her mother could hear it.
Not expecting the conversation to progress further, Tessie was chagrined when Mamma suggested she see a doctor. “You must be ill, daughter. I’d be glad to go with ya, in fact.”
“No need . . . I’ll be fine.”
“You sure don’t look it.”
Tessie wondered if some days her fatigue had more to do with her grief than her pregnancy—if she was indeed expecting a baby.
“I won’t mention anything to your father ’bout you bein’ under the weather,” Mamma added.
This admission confounded Tessie. Did her mother suspect what she wasn’t saying, and was she trying to pull Tessie out of her shell, to get her to talk?
“Why should Dat care?”
“You oughta be ashamed to talk so!” Mamma snapped.
“I’m sorry . . . just all in.” She longed to head to her room. Please don’t talk to Dat about this! she pleaded with her eyes. The strain between them had so quickly grown to odd proportions.
“I suggest getting yourself a gut night of sleep for a change, jah?” Mamma said pointedly.
How did her mother know Tessie suffered occasional insomnia, unless she, too, struggled to sleep through the night and was up? “Denki, Mamma,” Tessie said meekly. “I’ll do my best.”
Her mother’s expression softened. “Come here.” She held out her ample arms. “You’re out of sorts today, ain’t so? Let me give you a Christmas hug.” Mamma held her near and kissed her cheek. “I love ya dearly, Tessie Ann.”
“Happy Christmas, Mamma. I love you, too.” With that, Tessie trudged upstairs to dress for bed, embracing the stillness of the house never more so than now.
Mandy awakened early the next morning, Second Christmas, aware that Sylvan’s side of the bed was already empty. Rising, she pushed on the new white slippers she’d received from her mother-in-law for Christmas before lighting the nearby gas lamp. Immediately, a small circle of light filled the room, leaving the rest in lingering darkness. She opened her devotional book and read the day’s selection, then bowed her head to pray the Lord’s Prayer. When she’d said amen, she reached for her Bible, all the while aware of a nudging within. She strongly believed she was supposed to locate all of Norman’s old cards and letters and dispose of them—the last remnants of a failed courtship. She’d been thinking about this for some time, and seeing Norm again yesterday had reminded her of it.
So, after breakfast dishes were washed, dried, and put away, Mandy gathered up all the letters and such, tossed them into a paper bag, and then put on her warmest coat and gloves. She carried the paper bag out to the barn, took the old shovel off its nail, and hurried to a secluded spot behind the woodshed. She made a sizable hole, though it wasn’t at all easy to dig, the ground was so hard. Nevertheless, she made a small pit and lit a match to the stack of correspondence before standing back to watch it burn.
In a few minutes, Sylvan rushed over and asked what on earth she was doing. She briefly told him, but he seemed more concerned about the fire than its contents. “What if an unexpected wind comes up and catches the woodshed ablaze?” he asked, obviously displeased with her for being careless.
“So sorry, Sylvan . . . hadn’t thought about that,” she said.
“Are you feelin’ all right, Mandy?”
She nodded, fighting back tears. “I’m destroying my past, every bit of it.” At last.
He ran his fingers sideways through his short beard, clearly speechless.
She felt terrible about having saved Norman’s courting correspondence. “I should’ve done this before we got married,” she muttered, watching the fire flame up for a moment before sinking some. “I’m truly sorry, Sylvan.”
He looked at her, his eyes softening. “Maybe you’d like to work with Cousin Emmalyn at your little shop tomorrow,” he suggested. “Would that make you happier?”
She looked at him, surprised and pleased.
“Might just do ya some gut.”
“All right, then. Denki,” she said.
He folded his arms and stood there on the opposite side of the dying fire, looking at her through a thin veil of smoke. She felt overwhelmed and wanted to run over there and wrap her a
rms around him. But she stayed put. Sylvan preferred to be the pursuer, she knew.
“Since you’re here, I’ve been wonderin’ something,” she said slowly, getting up the nerve. “Why were you so welcoming to Norman and his fiancée yesterday at the dinner table?”
He frowned. “She has a name.”
“Sure,” she said. “It’s Glenice Lehman.”
He smiled faintly and continued. “Thought it was a gut idea to extend the right hand of fellowship, since they’ll be our neighbors.” Sylvan shook his head. “Didja know?”
“Jah, I heard.”
“A right nice couple,” he added. “Don’t you think so?”
She nodded.
“Well, I’ve got work to do.” He headed back toward the barn. “Be sure an’ shovel a bunch of dirt on that fire!” Sylvan called over his shoulder.
Mandy didn’t answer as she watched the smoldering fire. It was as if the letters and cards had been the flimsy cord that attached her to what had been her former life. Now they, too, were gone.
Second Christmas was spent visiting two of Tessie’s sisters who hadn’t been able to join them yesterday. First, Miriam and her family at their farm. And, later in the afternoon, Dat and Mamma decided to stop in at Mandy and Sylvan’s on the way home. There, they all sat and talked about the big, healthy twin heifer calves recently birthed at the next farm over, as well as the half dozen camels over in Bird-in-Hand. It seemed to Tessie that these unusual farm animals were getting plenty of attention—they’d even made it into the Lancaster newspapers.
After a time, Mandy began to look mighty fidgety, as if itching to take a walk. She asked Tessie to go with her while Dat and Mamma continued chatting with Sylvan.
When they reached the end of snowy Cattail Road to the north, over by the Hickory Hollow schoolhouse, Mandy said, “Ach, we should’ve included Mamma, ain’t so?”
“Well, she seemed content to sit and visit,” Tessie replied, glad for this time alone with her sister.
“Maybe you’re right.” Mandy nodded, then mentioned she was planning to work at the Bird-in-Hand shop tomorrow. “So surprising, really. It’s actually Sylvan’s suggestion.”
“I had the impression he was opposed to it.”
“Oh, you’re quite right. He really is.”
“So why are ya goin’ tomorrow, then?”
Mandy was quiet for a moment, then, “Maybe because he’s feeling guilty at bein’ put out with me.”
“Mandy . . .”
“We’ve had a few words lately. Nothin’ to worry about.”
Tessie cringed. She’d never heard such talk before from her sister. “A lover’s quarrel?”
“Oh, jah . . . nothin’ more.” Mandy went on to ask if Tessie would mind cooking for Sylvan and the workmen tomorrow. “Just dinner at noon. Could ya help me out in a pinch?”
“Sorry, but I can’t tomorrow. It’d suit me better another time.”
“Oh.” Mandy sounded miffed now.
“Maybe you should ask Sylvan’s mother or one of our sisters.”
“I couldn’t, Tessie Ann. Not on such short notice.”
“It’s just that I might be goin’ into town.” Tessie didn’t say where or why.
Mandy sparked a frown. “Well, are ya goin’ or not?”
“I really can’t commit for tomorrow.”
Mandy’s shoulders slumped, and she didn’t seem to regain her cheer as they turned back to the house. She looked as glum as Tessie felt.
Entering the backyard, Tessie craned her neck to look at the majestic oak, struck with the notion that in a few more weeks, it wouldn’t be wise to climb so high. Especially now that winter has come. Sighing, she wondered how long she could keep her pregnancy from her sisters, especially Mandy.
Then, of all things, Tessie was shocked to witness a transformation in her sister, who walked into the kitchen wearing a broad smile. Was it for Dat and Mamma’s benefit . . . and Sylvan’s, too? This apparent cheerfulness was hard to overlook as Mandy prepared a few refreshments, including leftover pie and a selection of cookies. How could she change so quickly?
Tessie remembered what her sister had shared briefly during the walk. Is Mandy’s seeming happiness merely an act? She turned the question around in her brain as she helped pour hot coffee for her parents and Sylvan. Always before, Mandy’s steadfast resolve to be a devoted and kind wife to Sylvan had been an inspiration to Tessie, despite their awkward initial stages as a couple.
Tessie chose hot cocoa for herself, wanting less caffeine in case she was correct about her condition. By tomorrow at this time, I’ll know for sure, she thought with a shudder.
Chapter 15
Mamma had planned all along to accompany Tessie to their family physician at the nearby Bird-in-Hand health clinic the next morning. But at the last minute, Mandy’s pleas for their mother to cook Sylvan’s dinner left Tessie alone in the Mennonite driver’s van. Given what was at stake, Tessie believed it was for the better.
The sun sparkled on the crusty snow during the drive to the small medical practice. The days were short on daylight and long on cold, and Tessie disliked going out on the roads even in a warm van.
At the doctor’s office, she quickly realized she was the only Amish patient in the waiting room, and, as was fairly typical, several Englischers looked at her inquisitively. It didn’t bother Tessie, though; she was accustomed to it.
She glanced at the pile of magazines, surprised to have gotten right in to see the doctor today, following yesterday’s call from the phone shanty. Tessie sat close to the entrance and thumbed through a harmless-looking magazine that featured springtime gardens of wild flowers and potted plants. How her heart yearned to turn back the pages of time and return to the wonderful-gut spring and summer. Life was not a meager existence then but a joyful one, filled with Marcus’s infectious smiles and their love.
Oh, the silence where there had been Marcus’s familiar voice, his longed-for presence, his fine plans for their future. Being around other couples, such as the one sitting across from her and holding hands as they looked so fondly at each other, was a painful reminder of Marcus’s absence.
Sighing, she noticed a brochure for a health center in nearby Strasburg, and her heart beat faster when she saw that it was for the well-known Clinic for Special Children. Reading every word carefully, Tessie saw that only several surnames accounted for over ten percent of all Amish families. They were King, Fisher, and Beiler or Byler.
King, she thought, realizing this meant there was an even higher risk for her unborn babe than she’d supposed. No wonder Dat was so concerned. . . .
When the nurse appeared from behind a door and called her name, Tessie winced, wondering what Marcus might suggest she tell the doctor during this first checkup. She knew one thing for sure: She wouldn’t hold back the truth—she would tell him she had been secretly married and was now a widow. There was no reason not to.
Yet, as she took her seat in the examination room off the hall, the latter made her heart sink. A widow? The unpleasant label was meant for a much older woman, not for young Tessie Miller King. Alas, she did not feel young anymore in body or spirit.
“What brings you in today?” dark-haired Dr. Landis asked, his stethoscope encircling his neck. Beneath his white doctor’s coat, he wore a tie striped in blue, gray, and white over a crisp white shirt.
“I might be pregnant. . . .”
Mandy pondered Sylvan’s early morning remarks, surprising as they were. Evidently he’d changed his mind after all about her going to work today. Why? she’d thought, irritated. The truth was, it had been too late to alter plans, and she’d tried to explain this to him. She was befuddled, however, at his implication that it wasn’t right for her to expect her mother to rush over there to cook for him when Mamma should be keeping Mandy’s father happy with something hot for his noontime meal.
Why the last-minute switch?
Busy now with waiting on customers and surrounded by all the pretty ho
memade items, Mandy still felt frustrated and confused.
“Are you all right?” Cousin Emmalyn asked as the last woman of a group left the shop.
Mandy covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m doin’ the best I can.”
“Well, maybe you’re takin’ on some of your sister’s burden,” Emmalyn suggested, leaning her head close. “Tessie Ann’s takin’ Marcus’s death exceptionally hard, don’t ya think?”
“We’re distant cousins.” Mandy didn’t want to say more.
Emmalyn shook her head and went to the window to watch the snow as it fell. She wore her pretty mint green dress and black cape and apron today. “When I look at Tessie, I see far more sadness in her eyes than that of a cousin for a deceased relative. They must’ve been engaged or close to it, since she’s still wearin’ black.”
“They were . . . deeply in love.”
“I wondered, although they must’ve kept their courtship real private.”
Mandy felt sadder with the talk of Tessie and Marcus. “Some of us still hold to the Old Ways. Or try to.”
“If I could just get my beau to commit to marriage, that’d be real nice,” Emmalyn said, turning away from the window, a slow smile coming. “Some men aren’t too eager to get hitched.”
“Is your beau baptized yet?”
“No, and that’s part of the problem. He needs to get Rumschpringe out of his system.”
Understanding, Mandy smiled now.
“You must know there are a-plenty fellas who are ready to settle down.” Mandy was aware of several, and she wondered how long Tessie Ann would stay away from the Sunday night Singings and other youth gatherings.
“Levi Smucker’s one great catch,” Cousin Emmalyn said, nodding. “He’s had his eye on your sister for plenty of years, if she doesn’t already know. But bein’ a gentleman, he never pursued her.”
“He had to have known about Marcus King’s interest in her, then.” Mandy considered this, wondering suddenly why Sylvan had pushed so hard for her when Norman was already seriously courting her back when. Quickly, she brushed off the parallel—no need rethinking any of it.
Last Bride, The (Home to Hickory Hollow Book #5) Page 9
