Mary whispered the words of the poem.
My dearest, my dearest, Josiah, my dear.
Your blue eyes sparkle like sun-washed skies,
The bluest, the bluest, of blues they be,
Your face so near, so dear you are.
Your heart like a river, your eyes so blue.
We gaze, we look, we tremble with joy.
I hold your hand, so strong in mine.
The Lord has so blessed me; how is He so kind?
My faith was turned upward,
Oft whispered in prayers.
Thinking and wondering, not knowing what man
The Lord would choose—yet the best was His plan.
Now you have arrived, Josiah, my dear.
My dreams but shadows before the sun shines through.
My hope is alive, now that you’re here.
I bless the Lord, and I love you, I love you, so much.
Heat flushed Mary’s cheeks, and she turned the page over again. What if someone discovered the stash of letters in her dresser drawer with her poems scribbled on the back? Mamm would smile and know not to read them without her permission, but Gerald…he would think she had taken leave of her senses. Betsy would sympathize but raise her nose in the air. No man compared to Betsy’s opinion of the out-of-reach Ronald Troyer.
Apparently this was what love did to a person. Mary almost floated along, feeling as though the hardest tasks in life would be easy with Josiah by her side.
Surely he would propose soon, and Mary guessed he would want to live in Lancaster after the wedding. He hadn’t mentioned anything about his plans, but he wouldn’t until after proposing. His daett was well established in Lancaster, so Josiah and Mary could move into a small farm there and make it their own. Mary loved life here in the valley, but with Josiah, anywhere would be heaven on earth.
The front door swung open behind her, and Betsy’s face appeared. She frowned as Mary buried the letter in her apron. “What are you doing out here?”
Betsy knew the answer, but Mary still spoke with a smile. “Thinking about Josiah and reading his letter.”
Betsy’s frown deepened. “You mean rereading it ten times. I saw you with that letter before you went to bed and now first thing this morning.”
“It is a beautiful one,” Mary replied. Engaging Betsy’s negativity would do no one any goot.
Betsy sighed and settled onto the swing beside Mary. “I saw a really handsome Englisha fellow while I was out with Enos last weekend. He smiled at me and might remember me, unlike Ronald.”
Mary didn’t respond. Instead, she studied the range of the Adirondacks beyond the rooftops of Fort Plain.
Betsy carried on. “I am going to find my dream, Mary. I’m just telling you. Somewhere there is a man who will love me, one without straw in his hair and the smell of manure on his clothing first thing in the morning.”
“Betsy!” Mary scolded. There were limits to her sister’s complaining. “This is not how things are at all. Look at Josiah—”
“Josiah!” Betsy sniffed. “I don’t trust the man, and Josiah’s not a farmer.”
Mary drew a long breath. “Farming is a blessing from the Lord, Betsy. Daett and Gerald are farmers. You should open your heart to whatever blessing from the community the Lord sends your way.”
“I want an Englisha husband,” Betsy continued undeterred. “Maybe a factory worker or a banker’s son. Wouldn’t that just be the dream?”
Mary tried again. “The Lord’s will is what is best.”
Betsy seemed not to hear. “I danced with two Amish boys last weekend at the local rock concert. Both of them stepped on my toes and didn’t know the last thing about how to move with the music. Now that Englisha fellow…” Betsy’s face drifted into a faraway look. “He could twirl across the room like the wind over the cornfields.”
Enos shouldn’t be taking you to such places, Mary almost said, but enough words had been spoken on the subject. “Are you ready to wash the dishes?” she asked instead.
Betsy sighed. “I would already have them done if Mamm and Daett had enough sense to install an electric dishwasher. I’ll have one of those someday, and a husband who doesn’t believe in slave labor.”
“Come, let’s go.” Mary tried to speak cheerfully, but Betsy was like a thundercloud this morning.
Betsy glared at her sister. “You know my opinion of Josiah hasn’t changed. He’s playing with you. Who knows what the man is doing in Lancaster while he keeps you entertained with sweet letters.”
“Betsy!” Mary gasped. “How can you say such things?”
“Because they are true!”
“Why? Because…” Mary searched for words. “I know that the accident with the fire has deeply affected your life, Betsy. I’m sorry you haven’t gotten attention from the man you admire, but the Lord can heal the deepest wounds.”
“Heal this?” Betsy lifted her chin to reveal the familiar scars, which ran almost from ear to ear. “They don’t appear very healed to me.”
“Beauty is in the soul of a woman,” Mary replied, but the words sounded hollow.
The wounds from Betsy’s childhood foiled her dreams in a world that placed great value on a woman’s looks. That Amish men usually overlooked such injuries did not remove the scars from her. Mary wondered what she would do if the situation were reversed. Would she believe Josiah’s affections were genuine? Would he have offered them to her in the first place?
“See, I do have a point,” Betsy said, as if reading Mary’s thoughts.
“Yah, I guess you do,” Mary allowed. “But we must pray. The Lord can work in your heart to draw you back to His ways.”
Betsy didn’t answer.
“Do you want to read the letter from Josiah? You can see for yourself what a decent Amish man is like.”
Betsy wrinkled her face. “I already know what he says, or I can imagine. So no thanks!”
Mary took a deep breath. She was glad that Betsy had declined, but any attempt to bridge the gap between them was worth the effort.
Mary turned the page over. “Do you want to see what I have written?”
“Your letter to him?”
“No, a poem to myself. I wouldn’t show Josiah this—at least, not until we are wed.”
Betsy shrugged and took the letter. She read it quickly, and a smile crept across her face. “If this were about my Englisha boyfriend, I would agree perfectly.”
Mary took the page back and led the way into the house. Betsy’s defenses were impenetrable. Only the Lord could breach them.
Mamm looked up with a smile when they walked into the kitchen. “Are both of you coming with me to the monthly sewing circle today?”
Betsy simply turned on the hot water at the sink without responding.
Mary waited a moment before saying, “I suppose I could come.”
“I’ll be ready in half an hour,” Mamm told her before leaving the kitchen.
“You should come,” Mary said to her sister.
Betsy busied herself with the dishes and remained silent. Even with Betsy’s constant complaints about Amish life, she could handle herself well with household duties at the Yoders’ home. She washed dishes and knew the intricacies of cooking and bread making. On the counter sat pecan pies she had made yesterday, two of which would go along with Mamm to the monthly sewing and would impress the best of the community cooks. If only Betsy’s heart could be turned.
“Help us, dear Lord,” Mary prayed as she wiped the dishes dry.
Betsy concentrated on her work.
Mary tried one more time. “Sure you don’t want to come?”
Betsy shook her head. Mary grabbed her shawl and the pecan pies before leaving the house. She found Mamm beside the hitching post with her hand on Danny Boy’s bridle. Mary hurried up to slide the pies under the back buggy seat before she lifted the shafts, and Mamm twirled Danny Boy expertly into place. They fastened the harness before climbing in and driving out of the lane.
“How are things going with Josiah?” Mamm asked as Danny Boy’s hooves beat steadily on the pavement.
“Really goot. He’s coming to visit soon. He didn’t say when, but…” She paused. Sharing Josiah’s sweet words out of desperation with Betsy was one thing, but saying them out loud to Mamm was another.
The smile on Mamm’s face grew. “I’m glad to see you two doing so well. Our prayers are being answered for you, for which we are thankful. Now if only…” A cloud passed over her smile.
There was no need to speak the words. They both felt the pain that lay heavily on their hearts.
“The Lord will help us,” Mamm finally said. “There must be an answer somewhere.”
Mary nodded. “We must keep our faith.”
Deacon Stoltzfus’s home appeared in front of them, and Danny Boy turned into the familiar driveway with only the smallest pull on the reins. A row of buggies sat alongside the barn, and after she and Mamm parked, Mary hopped down to unhitch Danny Boy. Mamm left with the pecan pies while Mary took Danny Boy into the barn.
Deacon Stoltzfus met her at the door with a broad grin. “I can take him from here,” he offered.
Mary returned the smile and offered a soft, “Thank you.”
She turned to go, but Deacon Stoltzfus wasn’t finished. “I hear Josiah’s keeping the mailman busy,” he teased.
Mary colored and looked away. The community’s approval of their relationship gave her such a wunderbah feeling—a blessing Betsy would miss if she didn’t change her ways.
“Your example in coming back early from your rumspringa even when you didn’t have things sewn up with a man was exactly the example our young girls need,” the deacon continued. “I want to compliment your faith, Mary.”
Now her whole face was red under the deacon’s praise. “Thank you,” Mary managed to say.
“The Lord’s blessings on the both of you,” Deacon Stoltzfus continued. He disappeared into the barn with Danny Boy in tow behind him.
Mary turned her face toward the sun on the walk up to the house. Maybe the day’s warmth would serve as an excuse, but there was no shame in her blushing face. She should feel happiness and a great thankfulness for what the Lord had granted.
“Goot morning,” Rachel greeted her at the door. “I’m glad you came with your mamm today.”
Rachel didn’t ask why Betsy hadn’t come. Her intentions were well known in the community.
Mary nodded and returned the greeting, turning next to the other women gathered around the quilt frames set up in Rachel’s living room. They would finish several today if things went well. She might even finish one to hang at the food co-op in Fort Plain where she worked. The regular customers wouldn’t buy it, but the occasional tourist who passed through might pick up a quilt. The funds would go toward needs in the community. This month’s sewing was intended to pay a portion of Emery and Laura’s hospital bills incurred from their baby’s premature arrival. Little John was home now, and Mary had seen him at the church services on Sunday. He would be a handsome man someday and charm a girl’s heart the way Josiah did hers.
Mary settled herself in front of a frame, looked down, and began stitching across the intricate web of flowers. The quilt would be beautiful when finished, and as she worked, she thought about Josiah coming to the valley soon. What had she done to deserve such blessings from the Lord?
FOUR
On Sunday evening, Mary and Josiah departed the hymn singing together. As the buggy wheels spun beneath them, Mary leaned against his shoulder.
“Sorry about this horse,” Josiah said with a laugh. “Your cousin Enos told me he was new but perfectly safe.”
“I’m okay,” Mary whispered as they hurtled along. A kicking, bucking horse was fine with her. That was how much she trusted him.
Josiah chuckled. “I think Enos wants to embarrass me when I spill the buggy in the ditch.” He managed to pull up for a brief pause at the stop sign at Highway 163. “Is there some secret admirer of yours in the community you haven’t told me about?”
Mary laughed. “There’s no one. Trust me. Cousin Enos just wants to see if you can handle his wild horse. I know you can.”
“Sure about that?” Josiah said, clutching the reins.
“Which point do you refer to?” She peered up at his face.
“You know which one I mean.”
Mary nestled against his shoulder again. “If there is an admirer, I haven’t noticed. I was too busy gazing toward Lancaster, waiting for your next visit.”
Josiah roared with laughter. “Now that’s the kind of answer that warms the heart. Letter writing gets a little wearisome.”
“But you write so well.” Mary sat up straight. “So cultured and…”
Words failed her when it came to Josiah. Only poetry fully expressed her deepest feelings, and the time to speak or show them to Josiah had not arrived. Someday his face would glow with happiness when she showed him all of his letters with her scribbles on the back pages.
“I should have brought you a bouquet of flowers like the Englisha do,” he said.
“That isn’t necessary,” she protested. “You know the customs of the community. Your being here is enough for me.”
“I feel the same about you.” He smiled. “But there’s a little something I brought for you under the buggy seat.”
“Josiah! You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
His eyes twinkled. She wanted to reach up, touch his face, and pull him close, but they had not yet kissed. That would be Josiah’s move when the time was right. Maybe if he lived in the valley, they would already have arrived at this point.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he teased.
She didn’t answer as they turned into the Yoders’ driveway. Josiah expertly pulled to a stop right by the hitching post, with the head of Cousin Enos’s wild horse inches from the tie rail.
“Aren’t you going to see what I brought you?” he asked, thankfully moving on from his other concerns.
Cousin Enos’s horse blew his nose as if impressed with his frisky performance. Mary ignored the horse to reach under the buggy seat. At first her fingers found nothing. She leaned forward further and touched paper. Slowly she lifted the package into her lap. “What is it?”
“You’ll have to see.” Like Cousin Enos’s horse, Josiah sounded pleased with himself.
Mary opened the paper bag to reach inside and lift out one of the items—chocolate candy with fancy wrapping. There was a card and a small journal, leather bound and expensive. Finally, she pulled out some perfume in a small bottle. The scent of roses wafted into the air as Mary touched the glass with her finger.
“Josiah!” she chided. “This is too much.”
He kissed her lightly on the top of her kapp. “Nothing is too much for you, dear. After all this time, I couldn’t arrive with empty hands.”
“But…but…” Mary gave up and clung to his arm, the items strewn on her lap. “Thank you so much, Josiah. So very much.”
“Considering that response, I should have brought more!” He laughed and held her hand for a moment. “Shall we go inside before this horse decides to dash on home?”
Mary nodded and gathered up her gifts. Josiah jumped down to secure Cousin Enos’s horse, and then he offered Mary his hand from the bottom of the buggy step. Her face felt flushed from all his attention, but she hoped he didn’t mind. He kept her hand in his on the walk up to the house.
Mary paused to glance back when Gerald pulled in the driveway with Betsy beside him. She was grateful Betsy had decided to attend the hymn singing tonight, but she didn’t want Josiah ensconced on the living room couch when Betsy came in. Her sister’s dislike for Josiah had yet to diminish. By now Josiah must have heard about Betsy’s search for an Englisha boyfriend, but he didn’t know about her deep distrust of him.
“Are we going in?” He tugged on her hand.
“Can we stay a moment? Watch the stars?” She peered upward at the heav
ens. Josiah’s face was the only star she wanted to see, but that was something one shouldn’t say aloud just yet.
“I suppose so,” he allowed. “Do you like stargazing?”
“I do.”
“Come then.” He tugged her hand in the opposite direction.
As they stepped out from under the tree, Betsy jumped out of the buggy and dashed up the walk without a word to them.
“Goot night,” Josiah hollered after her.
Betsy took the porch steps two at a time and never slowed.
“I’m sorry about Betsy,” Mary whispered. “She doesn’t mean to be rude…”
“I’ve heard. Don’t worry. We all have our injuries in life. That’s just the way things are. I’m sure Betsy will eventually become more comfortable around me.”
“It’s not you,” Mary protested.
Josiah didn’t seem to hear as he led her farther out beneath the open skies. “There they are.” His hand swept from horizon to horizon. “Beautiful. I don’t often think to stop and look. You are goot for me, Mary.”
“I hope so.” She clung to his hand.
“You are!” He smiled down at her. “Shall I take that?”
Mary nodded and handed him the paper package. “I wish I had something to give you.”
“You have food inside, don’t you?”
“Yah! Brownies and shoofly pie. But that’s not much compared to this.”
“I disagree,” he said. “You are like coming home. Much better than the store-bought things I brought you. Even my card is from Walmart.”
They laughed together, the sound muffled under the open heavens. “I’ll have to read your card once we’re inside.”
He pretended embarrassment and covered his face with his free hand.
“Goot evening!” Gerald hollered from a few feet away, making Mary jump.
“You’re scaring your sister,” Josiah scolded.
Gerald grinned. “I think she’ll get over it.” He held out his hand. “Welcome to the Yoders’ house again.”
“Thanks.” Josiah shook Gerald’s hand. “Did you leave any shoofly pie for me?”
Gerald’s grin grew. “No danger there. I’m a pecan pie man. Betsy makes the best in the community.”
Mary's Home Page 3
