An Amish Wedding

by Kathleen Fuller; Beth Wiseman Kelly Long

  THREE YEARS LATER

  HICCUP . . .

  Priscilla covered her mouth with her hand—not so much to stifle the intermittent spasms in her diaphragm, but to keep from exploding at her five-year-old sister. She took a deep breath as she studied the scene before her, then closed her eyes and blew the air from her lungs in an effort to calm herself. It didn’t work.

  “What have you done, Sarah Mae?” She stepped forward to where the little girl was sitting in the middle of the sewing room. Hiccup . . .

  Sarah Mae’s big brown eyes filled with tears. “What’s wrong?” She blinked a few times, her bottom lip quivering. “Why are you using your mean voice?”

  Priscilla took another deep breath, hiccuped again, then rubbed her tired eyes. “I’m not using a ‘mean’ voice, Sarah Mae.”

  “Mamm said I could have these scraps to make a dress for Lizzie Lou.” Sarah Mae lifted up the finely sewn blue material for Priscilla to see.

  It was the left arm of Priscilla’s wedding dress, perfectly stitched and ready to attach to the body of the outfit she planned to be married in. In all her nineteen years, she’d never crafted a finer long sleeve.

  “See, I made armholes for Lizzie Lou.” Sarah Mae nodded toward her doll, which was propped up against a chair to the left. The rag doll with flowing brown hair went everywhere Sarah Mae went. And Lizzie Lou had many outfits—dresses for working in the fields and going to church service, along with brown, black, and white aprons. Lizzie Lou also had two kapps and a black jacket.

  Priscilla cringed as Sarah Mae pushed her small fingers through slits on either side of the sleeve. “Sarah Mae . . .” Hiccup . . . She clutched her chest and tried to control her voice. Then she pointed with one hand toward a pile of scraps to her right. “Those are the scraps Mamm meant for you to use.” She glanced about at the pieces of material scattered around Sarah Mae until she spotted her other sleeve. She squatted down next to her sister, picked it up, and poked her fingers through the holes on either side.

  “That’s Lizzie Lou’s Sunday dress.” Sarah Mae tucked her chin, then lifted her watery eyes to Priscilla’s.

  Priscilla handed what used to be the sleeves of her wedding dress back to her sister. She scanned the area around Sarah Mae, hoping and praying that the body of her dress was still intact.

  “Sarah Mae,” she said softly, following another hiccup, “there was another piece of sewn material, a much larger piece. Where is it?”

  Sarah Mae stood up, tucked her chin again, then walked across the room. “Lizzie Lou wanted a hammock and a blanket.”

  “Sarah Mae! No!”

  The dress was cut in half, one piece tied between two chairs, the other piece on the floor below the “hammock.”

  “How could you do this? That was my wedding dress, Sarah Mae! Not scraps!”

  “I’m sorry, Sissy! I’m sorry!” Sarah Mae threw her little arms around Priscilla’s legs and looked up, tears pouring down her face. “I’ll make you a new dress for your wedding.”

  Priscilla patted Sarah Mae on the back as she thought about the time she’d spent on her wedding dress. “It’s all right. I’ll make an even better dress.” She forced a smile for Sarah Mae. Four weeks until the wedding. It was doable. It might not be as finely stitched as the one that now served as two dresses, a hammock, and a blanket for Lizzie Lou, but it could be done. “Maybe Lizzie Lou needs to get married in her new dress,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “Sissy?” Sarah Mae pulled her arms from around Priscilla’s legs and stared up at her sister. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know you are, Sarah Mae.” She realized her hiccups were gone. She leaned down and kissed the little girl on the cheek. “You stay here and play. I’m going to go help Mamm with supper.”

  And after the meal and cleanup, Priscilla would go meet Chester at the phone shanty that bordered both their homesteads—as she always did on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She smiled. She was the luckiest girl in the world to be marrying Chester Lapp. If this was the worst thing that happened to disrupt the wedding she’d been planning for the past few months, she could live with it.

  CHESTER ARRIVED AT THE SHANTY ABOUT TEN MINUTES early, anxious to hold Priscilla in his arms. In only a month she’d be his frau, and there’d be no more sneaking off to the shanty.

  He leaned up against the structure, which resembled an old outhouse—a tall, wooden boxlike building that housed a telephone and a small stool. Most families had phones in the barns these days, but his father, along with Priscilla’s father and the Dienners and the Petersheims, chose to keep with tradition, holding on to the shanty they had shared for years.

  As he leaned against the weathered wood, he looped his thumbs beneath his suspenders and watched the sun setting in the west, leaving a warm glow atop the fields stretched before him as far as he could see. Tall green grass speckled with brown was evidence of the recent first frost and seemed a prelude for a hard winter.

  Chester closed his eyes and imagined curling up on the couch beside Priscilla in front of a warm fire this winter. He was close to finishing the house he was building for them. The building inspector was coming tomorrow to check the electrical wiring. Installing electricity was required, even though they would never turn it on. And should they decide to sell, the resale value would be better if it was wired for electricity. But Chester was counting on spending the rest of his life in that house with Priscilla. He’d worked hard to make it everything they’d dreamed of. Four bedrooms would be enough room for the kinner they planned to have.

  He heard movement and turned to his left to see Priscilla moving through the field like a beautiful butterfly, her arms swinging back and forth as she lifted her legs high through the pasture, a pallet of orange dusk behind her.

  My sweet Priscilla.

  Chester had loved Priscilla since she was sixteen. That was when he started courting her, carrying her home from Sunday singings and making plans for their future. But since he was three years older than she, he waited until she was nineteen to propose. As he watched her hurrying toward him in a dark green dress and black apron, his heart skipped a beat, the way it always did when he first saw her.

  She came to a stop right in front of him, breathless and beautiful. “How long have you been waiting?”

  “Not long.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands and gently kissed her on the mouth, lingering for much longer than he should.

  She pulled back and smiled at him. “We’ll be married soon enough, and you can kiss me like that all the time.”

  Chester would be lying to himself if he denied the fact that her looks had drawn him to her initially. She stood out among their people with her strawberry blond hair and stunning blue eyes. A natural blush filled her cheeks atop her ivory complexion.

  Despite her comment, Chester kissed her again. She giggled and pushed him away. “Chester Lapp, you better behave yourself.”

  She was small and flowerlike, but Chester knew better than to be misled by her dainty appearance. Priscilla was as strong a woman as he’d ever met—inside and out. He recalled the day not long after her sixteenth birthday when they held hands and jumped out of a perfectly good airplane together.

  His future wife could also swing a baseball bat like no woman he’d seen and outrun most of her teammates. She spoke her mind when necessary, yet was the most compassionate person he knew. She was organized and punctual, and expected others to be. She could obsess on details sometimes, that was true, but in Chester’s eyes . . . she was perfect.

  “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

  She tapped her finger to her chin and twisted her mouth to one side. “Hmm . . . I can’t recall.”

  He cupped her cheek in his hand. “I love you with all my heart. Forever.”

  Priscilla put her hand atop his, then pulled his hand to her mouth and kissed it tenderly. “I love you too, and I can’t wait to be your frau.” Then she let go of his hand, stepped back a bit, and frowned.

  “Wha
t is it?”

  “Something happened today. With my wedding dress.” She let out a heavy sigh. “Sarah Mae used it to make doll clothes, along with a hammock and blanket for her doll’s enjoyment.”

  It wasn’t funny, but Chester stifled a grin just the same. Priscilla came from a family of girls. Naomi—the oldest at twenty-five and still unmarried—lived in the daadi haus on the family’s property where she ran a bakery business. Then there was Priscilla’s married sister, Hannah, who was twenty-two. Then Priscilla, and then Sarah Mae—her parents’ little surprise.

  Priscilla folded her arms across her chest. “Chester, are you laughing?” She tried to make her voice sound stern.

  “No. Not laughing at all.” He held his palms toward her. “Besides, you’ll be beautiful on our wedding day no matter what you’re wearing.” He reached for her hand, then squeezed.

  “I can make a new dress.” She scowled a bit, then her eyes brightened. “The inspectors come tomorrow to look at the house, no?”

  “Ya. I think everything will be fine, then I can move forward with the finishing touches for my bride-to-be.” He hoped that everything would in fact be fine. With his father’s help, they had done most of the wiring themselves. It would be a huge setback if something was wrong. He wanted to whisk Priscilla into their new home as soon as possible.

  “Do your parents know you meet me here on Tuesdays and Thursdays?” Priscilla bit her bottom lip, then grinned.

  “I think so. Do yours?”

  She giggled. “Ya. We don’t speak of it, but they know I’m not just going for a walk.” She hugged herself and shivered. “I forgot my sweater.”

  Chester wasted no time taking off his black jacket, regretful he hadn’t done it as soon as she arrived. He draped it around her shoulders.

  “Danki.” Priscilla settled into the jacket, smiling. “I hope the weather is nice for our wedding day. It might be a little cold, but I’m hoping there won’t be any rain. I want everyone to be able to gather in the barn or outdoors following the ceremony.”

  “It will be a perfect day.” Chester latched on to the collar on both sides of his jacket and pulled it snug around her. “You warm enough?”

  “Ya. I’m gut.”

  Then she hiccuped, and he laughed. It was the cutest little sound he’d ever heard, and her eyes widened as she cupped her hand over her mouth.

  “This is the second time this has happened today.” Her cheeks flushed a bright pink. “How embarrassing.”

  “It’s cute,” he said as another hiccup escaped. “Daed always tells us to eat a spoonful of sugar when we get the hiccups.”

  Chester’s family was small by comparison to others in the district—only Chester and his brother, Abraham.

  “Abe used to get the hiccups a lot.”

  “Nee, I don’t know how cute it . . . hiccup . . . is.”

  They both laughed again, but jumped when the telephone in the shanty rang.

  On the third ring, Chester stepped inside the booth and picked up the receiver. He said hello, then his smile faded and he tightened his grip on the receiver.

  Chapter Two

  IT WAS ALMOST DARK BY THE TIME PRISCILLA EASED UP the porch steps. She hung her head as she opened the door and moved inside. Naomi was peeling potatoes at the kitchen table.

  “Why so sour?” Naomi wasn’t wearing her kapp, and strands of her dark brown hair had fallen forward from the bun atop her head.

  Priscilla and her sister didn’t look anything alike. Naomi had dark hair, dark eyes, and an olive complexion, just like Sarah Mae and Hannah—and like their mother. Hannah used to tease her when they were young, telling her she was adopted.

  Priscilla pulled out a chair across from Naomi at the large kitchen table. She sat down, propped her elbows on the table, and rested her chin in her hands. “I was with Chester at the phone shanty.”

  “Really? I’m so surprised.” Naomi smiled. “I think we know where you go on Tuesday and Thursday nights, Priscilla.” She set a peeled potato in the pot beside her, then her expression grew solemn. “Did something happen? You look sad, maedel.”

  “I’m okay, I guess.” She bit her bottom lip. “Chester is pretty upset, though. The building inspector is coming tomorrow to check the wiring, and we’ve been nervous about that, praying everything would be up to code. But tonight Zeke called and said there’s a problem with the roof.”

  Chester’s cousin Zeke was in town for the wedding, and he just happened to be a carpenter who specialized in roofing. Chester had asked him to check out the roof on the house.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Naomi sliced off a sliver of potato and handed it to Priscilla; she was the only one in the family who liked raw potato.

  Priscilla waited to swallow before she answered. “The storm last week blew off some shingles. Zeke said he would help Chester repair it, but I know Chester wasn’t expecting to have to fit that in. His job at the furniture store takes up most of his time, plus the chores around his house, and . . .” She sighed. “And now he has to fix the roof.”

  “God often challenges us, but I’m sure you and Chester will have a fine home.” Naomi began cutting hard-boiled eggs on a chopping board.

  “Potato salad?” Priscilla eyed the mayonnaise and jar of pickles on the table beside Naomi.

  “Ya. Daed asked if I would make him some.” Naomi carried the pot of potatoes to the sink, filled it with water, and put it on the stove.

  Naomi took most of her meals with the family at the main house, even though she lived in the daadi haus. She also ran a baked goods business from her home, and she was a wonderful cook.

  Priscilla let out a heavy sigh. “Did you hear what happened to my wedding dress?”

  Naomi grinned as she sat down again and continued chopping hard-boiled eggs. “I did . . . something about clothes for Lizzie Lou?”

  “Don’t forget the hammock and blanket.” Priscilla shook her head. “I was so upset with her, but when she started to cry, I thought . . . well, I guess I’ll just have to make another dress. A better dress.”

  Priscilla reached for half a boiled egg, only to have Naomi playfully slap her hand. “Ach. No, ya don’t. I have just enough.” She pulled the plate of eggs closer. “I pulled a honey bun cake from the oven. Go get yourself a piece.”

  “We just ate supper.”

  “Then why are you trying to eat my eggs?”

  Priscilla shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  They were quiet for a few moments.

  “I have a lot on my mind about this wedding. First my dress today, and then problems with the roof.”

  “Everything will be fine, Priscilla. You worry too much.”

  They sat quietly as Naomi chopped the eggs for the potato salad. Priscilla knew her sister was right. But when things didn’t go as planned, she wondered if she was on the right path, the one God had planned for her.

  Priscilla tapped her finger to her chin. “Remember how everything went wrong with Hannah’s wedding?”

  Naomi chuckled. “Ya. The church wagon showed up late with the supplies, we ran out of propane for the extra ovens Daed rented . . .” She shook her head. “And the poor groom was battling the flu.”

  “It’s not funny, Naomi. I don’t want those troubles at my wedding.”

  Naomi stopped chopping the eggs and locked eyes with Priscilla. “Hannah didn’t let it bother her, Priscilla, because she loved Leroy and just wanted to be with him. You should be glad you found someone to spend your life with and stop fretting about everything. You know worry is a sin.”

  “I know.” Priscilla sighed again. “Why do you think I’m like that? I mean, I always pray that everything will go smoothly, even though I know we’re not here on this earth to have an easy life.”

  Naomi handed her a piece of egg and a sympathetic smile. “Priscilla, where were you while we were growing up? Did you not listen at all? We cannot understand God’s plan for us. Everything is His will. It might seem like things are falling apart
sometimes, but often God has something better in store for us down the line.” She sat taller and smiled. “You will enjoy life much more if you will just relax.”

  CHESTER CLIMBED UP THE LADDER AND JOINED ZEKE ON top of the roof. Zeke had come from Ohio to serve as one of Chester’s attendants for the wedding, and Chester was sure thankful that his cousin was in the construction business.

  “I’m surprised more of these shingles didn’t blow off during the storm.” Zeke pointed to the section of the roof over the kitchen. “Look. See how different some of them are? You need to talk to the person who sold these to you.”

  Chester rubbed his forehead, wondering how neither he, his father, nor his brother had noticed the difference in the shingles. “Ya. You’re right.”

  “Don’t worry, cousin. I can help you with this.”

  “Danki, Zeke. Since Abe broke his wrist, he hasn’t been able to be of much help.” Abe had fallen from the roof a few weeks earlier, and they were grateful that his injuries had been no worse.

  They climbed down the ladder, and Zeke followed Chester to the front door. He turned the knob and motioned Zeke ahead of him and into the living room so Zeke could see the progress he’d made the past week.

  Zeke scanned the room, then raised a brow toward Chester. “Mighty fine.” He ran his hand along a built-in bookcase on the far wall. “And a bit fancy.”

  “Priscilla’s idea.” Chester stepped next to Zeke and eyed the floor-to-ceiling bookcase. “She likes to read, and she said she hopes that our kinner will too.”

  Zeke grinned. “Planning to start a family right away?”

  “As soon as possible.” Chester smiled back at his cousin, thoughts of Priscilla and their wedding night swirling in his head. He allowed himself the vision for a couple of seconds, then added, “We want lots of kinner. Priscilla will be a fine mamm.”

  Zeke put his hand on Chester’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you.”

  Chester showed Zeke the rest of the house. The kitchen was large and spacious with plenty of room for the table and chairs Priscilla’s parents gave them as a wedding present. As he waited for Zeke to have a good look, he pictured Priscilla cooking their meals and tending to their kinner. Their wedding couldn’t come soon enough.