Mary's Home

by Jerry S. Eicher

  “I’m sure you did, I really am,” he told her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so harsh about my words with your sister. I am glad that Betsy came, like family should, with you this morning of your sorrow.”

  “Betsy’s a goot sister and a kind one,” Mary told him. “And your apology is accepted.”

  “Thank you.” He bobbed his head. “I’m sorry, from the bottom of my heart, for your suffering. Josiah didn’t know, and I’m certain of this, what he was doing when he broke off your relationship. The man, he shouldn’t have. Josiah is not, he isn’t, Mary, a very wise man. I hope you know that.”

  “It’s okay.” Mary smiled again. “I’m cried out, and life goes on.”

  “You are brave, you are, and a strong woman,” he said. He wrote out a check for the amount she showed him. “You are here this morning. Somehow in my heart I knew, which is why I set out so early in my buggy, that you would be. Not every woman, even in this community, would have held up so well.”

  “I did love him.” Mary bowed her head. “Quite a lot, but the Lord had other things in mind.”

  “Yah, I can see, with my own eyes, what a sweet spirit you have,” Stephen agreed. He handed her the check. “Josiah has made, I say this again, a great mistake. He did not know the will of the Lord.”

  “Thank you for your sympathy, Stephen.”

  Betsy appeared from around the corner of the food stands. “You have a goot day now, Stephen, and don’t fall off the barn roof. It can be a little slippery up there.”

  He gathered up his bags and hurried out without a response.

  “What was that about?” Mary chided her sister.

  Betsy glared after him. “The man was courting you. As plain as day.”

  “I think you’re imaging things,” Mary protested.

  Betsy continued to glare at the closed co-op door. Clearly, she was not convinced.

  NINE

  After the breakfast dishes were washed on Sunday morning, Mary slipped into her bedroom and changed into her light blue dress. The color pushed the limits of the Ordnung, but she had made the purchase in Little Falls a few weeks after Josiah had asked if she would be his frau. During that time, her spirits had flown up into the clouds on wings of happiness.

  She should burn the dress in the kitchen stove, but that would be a wrong turn in her walk away from the pain Josiah had left in her heart. This morning he would drive Susie to the church service as his new frau, with her seated happily on the buggy seat beside him. That place had once belonged to Mary, but she must forget. The bitterest thoughts must be rejected and replaced with acceptance and resignation. That was the Lord’s way. Her wedding dress must also come down from its lofty and high perch in her heart. What better way to demote the dress than to wear it to a common church service the Sunday after her planned wedding?

  The bedroom door cracked open, and Betsy’s face appeared. “How are you doing?” She took in her sister’s choice of dress. “Wasn’t that…”

  “Yah,” Mary whispered. “But I must.”

  Betsy stepped inside to give Mary a long hug. “You are so brave. You deserve a man who will love you like the jewel you are.”

  “Don’t say that,” Mary protested. “I’ve been rejected.”

  “Josiah Beiler isn’t the end of the whole world,” Betsy reminded her.

  “He was of mine.”

  Betsy tsk-tsked her. “That’s because you love with all of your heart.”

  “Stop it. I’ll ruin this dress with a bucket of tears.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing,” Betsy told her. “A wedding dress made to wear with Josiah Beiler should not be respected. I’ll go change myself. Gerald will have the buggy ready before long, and he’ll be waiting impatiently as usual.”

  Betsy closed the bedroom door behind her, and the sound of her footsteps faded down the hall. Mary placed the last pin in the dress and adjusted her kapp. Then she opened the dresser drawer to pull out her tablet. Yah, Gerald was in a hurry, but there were still a few moments to read the words she had written last night. Writing seemed to ease the pain and bring her a measure of peace.

  To moving on…

  She gathered all her courage bright,

  And shed her tears through every night.

  But now the time had come to carry on,

  To bear the load and find her song.

  Each day she tells her heart to beat,

  That love that’s lost is not the end.

  That with the morn the sun will rise,

  And shed its light for weary eyes.

  Give me, Lord, the help I need,

  Give me grace…and hurry, please.

  I ask with boldness, this I know,

  But all this pain is hurting so.

  They were bold words, and that’s where she had stopped writing last night before climbing under the quilt to find blessedness in sleep. She didn’t expect another man to replace Josiah, yet surely the Lord could bring healing to the deep cut across her heart. That much she could ask, and yah, she did wish the Lord would hurry.

  Mary studied the words for a moment before placing the paper in the dresser drawer. No one would see the words, as they shouldn’t. The community had moved on, and her grieving must follow.

  Mary stepped into the hallway and paused for a moment to listen. Betsy’s bedroom door was closed, but the sound of dresser drawers opening and closing in rapid succession reached into the hall. Perhaps Betsy couldn’t decide which Sunday dress to wear this morning. A smile crept across Mary’s face. Betsy was a dear sister who cared with her whole heart. Maybe someday she would get over her dream of leaving the Amish life and accept the attentions of a proper young man from the community.

  Mary breathed a quick prayer heavenward before she continued down the stairs. “Don’t let bitterness take root in Betsy’s heart because of my own failings, Lord.”

  Mamm greeted her in the kitchen with a bright smile. “Ready to go? Gerald just left for the barn.”

  “I figured he had,” Mary replied. “Betsy is hurrying to get ready.”

  Mamm glanced at Mary’s dress. “Do you think that’s wise? On your first Sunday? Maybe…”

  “I’m trying to move on, Mamm. Don’t discourage me. No one will know what this dress meant to me.”

  Mamm didn’t back down. “But the message it sends. Your wedding dress, Mary! People will make assumptions and think you are disrespectful and flippant. You should at least look as though you cared.”

  Mary pressed back tears. “In that case, I should wear black.”

  Mamm’s smile was thin. “That would be morbid. Go up and change into your dark blue dress.”

  “But Gerald…” Mary protested.

  “Your brother can handle a lesson in patience. I’ll take care of him.”

  Mary hesitated, but she found herself on the stairs moments later.

  “What’s wrong?” Betsy asked at the landing.

  “I’m changing into something more appropriate.”

  “You decided this?”

  “Mamm does have a point,” Mary told her. “Let’s not make a fuss.”

  Betsy huffed but said nothing more as Mary entered her bedroom. She caught a glimpse through the bedroom window of Gerald as he came out of the barn door with his hand on Danny Boy’s bridle. She tried to hurry, but the pins only went in and out so quickly. Betsy ran past the window, and after an animated conversation with Gerald, waving her arms about, she hopped up on the buggy seat to wait.

  Mary finished, took the stairs down two at a time, and burst out of the stairwell.

  “That’s much better,” Mamm proclaimed. “And the Lord will give you comfort and courage today.” Mamm planted a little kiss on Mary’s cheek. “We love you, dear, and Betsy has explained the delay to Gerald.”

  Mary nodded and hurried out the front door.

  Gerald eyed her as she approached. “All that over the color of a dress? Women!” he exclaimed.

 
; Mary smiled warmly at her brother. “You’ll be falling in love with a girl soon enough, and she’ll have you wrapped around her little finger. The biggest ones fall the hardest.”

  Betsy’s burst of laughter pealed from the buggy. “That’s telling him.”

  Gerald grunted his disgust, and Mary climbed up onto the buggy seat. Gerald threw her the lines and hopped in himself. He took the reins from Mary, and they trotted out of the driveway.

  “Where’s church today?” Betsy asked.

  “Bishop Miller’s place,” Mary told her.

  Gerald gave Betsy a sideways look. “If you didn’t cavort around with those Englisha friends of yours all weekend, you’d remember such things.”

  “You’re on your own rumspringa,” Betsy snapped. “Don’t be telling me how to conduct mine.”

  Gerald snorted. “You’re overdoing things. That’s all I’m saying. We are supposed to sample the world’s things, not live among them.”

  Betsy pressed her lips together and fell silent.

  Mary came to Betsy’s defense. “She’s a goot sister. We all have different paths to walk.”

  “Thank you,” Betsy muttered. “At least someone has some understanding on the matter.”

  “That’s because Mary has a tender heart. Reality must be faced, Betsy. You are way over the line with how you’re conducting your rumspringa. The boys are talking. If you don’t come back soon, your chance of getting a husband in the community will become quite slim.”

  “I will always have plenty of chances with farmers who have straw stuck in their hair,” Betsy shot back.

  “Today, but maybe not tomorrow,” Gerald intoned. “Girls get old and—poof!—their chance is gone. You’d better listen.”

  Betsy pursed her lips and fell silent.

  “Betsy will find her own way back soon enough,” Mary said as they turned into the bishop’s driveway.

  Gerald didn’t appear convinced, but Mary couldn’t blame him. Doubt played in her own heart, and she had been wrong about Josiah.

  “Whoa there,” Gerald called out to Danny Boy. He pulled to a stop at the end of the walk, and with a firm grip on the horse’s reins, he turned the wheel wide for them.

  Mary climbed down the buggy step and said, “Thank you, Gerald.”

  He nodded and smiled. Betsy marched up the walk without a word.

  “You should at least be civil to him,” Mary whispered once she caught up with her sister.

  “He deserves what he gets,” Betsy muttered.

  “He was only speaking the truth,” Mary whispered back.

  Betsy pasted on a smile as they approached two women who waited outside the mudroom door. “Goot morning, Miriam and Rachel. How’s the baby?” Betsy cooed. She pulled back the blanket in Miriam’s arm to take a peek at the bundle. “He’s so sweet, I must say.”

  Miriam beamed. “Yah, and taking right after his daett. Benjamin Junior will be a stout young man, I’m thinking.”

  Mary joined in the admiration of the little one. This was Miriam’s fourth child. Not that long ago Mary herself had dreamed of home and kinner—Josiah’s kinner. Now he and Susie…

  Mary halted her thoughts. She had to stop mourning. What was done was done, and Josiah no longer belonged to her.

  Betsy held out her arms and took little Benjamin while Miriam adjusted her shawl. Then Mary followed Rachel into the kitchen.

  “How are you doing this morning?” Rachel turned to ask.

  Mary tried to sound cheerful. “Okay!”

  Rachel was clearly not convinced. “You hide your sorrow well, but I said a prayer for you on Thursday. The Lord will be filling your heart again soon. He’s a goot God, you know.”

  “Yah, He is,” Mary agreed.

  Rachel smiled her encouragement as the handshaking began around the circle of women, and Mary ended up near the living room doorway. The line of men led by Bishop Miller would soon be passing by, but there was no other place for Mary to stand. She waited while several other women came past to greet her, and she smiled and shook their hands. Betsy had divested herself of baby Benjamin and slipped in to stand beside her, thankfully blocking the view into the open living room door.

  “Don’t give Stephen the slightest bit of attention today,” Betsy whispered in Mary’s ear. “He’ll be continuing his courtship efforts.”

  “Hush,” Mary warned as the front door opened and Bishop Miller entered.

  Betsy gave him a cheerful smile. The bishop nodded in greeting and took off his hat, continuing on as the other men followed behind him. Mary hid behind Betsy as they filed through to take their seats on the benches.

  Mary assumed Stephen Overholt was in the line somewhere, and though she didn’t want to acknowledge it, she knew Betsy was right. Stephen intended to court her, and she would have to face his advances soon enough.

  “Remember what I said,” Betsy whispered as Bishop Miller’s frau, Annie, led the women to their seats.

  Mary settled herself on the unmarried women’s bench and kept her head down. The singing began, and she followed the words on the page of the songbook. By the time Minister Peachey stood for the first sermon, Mary’s neck was stiff. She had a reason to look up now, even if Stephen was in her line of sight. One did not stare at the floor during a sermon.

  Minister Peachey stood beside the kitchen doorway, pacing back and forth as he spoke. Stephen sat toward the back of the room with his attention fixed on the preaching, and Mary’s gaze lingered on him for a moment. She shouldn’t be afraid of the man. Stephen was a confirmed bachelor of many years. Such a state was whispered about, and a man’s reputation suffered from it. But Stephen was decent enough from what she knew of him. He did speak a lot about the Lord’s will when it came to love, and he was stuck in his ways, which was how men became when they lived alone. What did she really know about him? Not much. His grocery lists each month were long and varied. Maybe the crusty exterior the man carried about him covered a heart of gold.

  Mary forced herself to focus on Minister Peachey. “We are all the Lord’s children and are called to a life of holiness,” Minister Peachey was saying, warming to his subject. “Through the ups and downs of life, through sun and shade, through the goot times and the tough times, the call of the Lord remains the same. Walk with Him in purity and righteousness.”

  What blessed words those were, and here she was, staring at a man the Sunday after her planned wedding. Betsy was partly to blame for making insinuations about Stephen, but Mary’s pride may also have been touched. She wondered if Stephen wished to pick up what Josiah had tossed aside. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Stephen’s remarks at the co-op were nothing more than brotherly concern for a jilted woman who had her heart broken. That Stephen would notice her pain was to his credit, not a mark against his character.

  Mary shifted on the bench to find a more comfortable spot. Minister Peachey’s message on holiness was for her, and she needed to listen. Her heart must remain open to what the Lord had planned for her life. Obviously, she had been quite wrong once, so that showed how untrustworthy her choices could be. Never had she dreamed that Josiah didn’t love her, considering the devotion she had felt for him in her own heart. She should be thankful that Stephen spoke with her on Thursday. Maybe she should pray that the Lord would lead her to a man who could love her instead of stir emotions in her heart that left her shattered. Maybe that was the first lesson she should learn today.

  “Submit yourself to the will of the Lord,” Minister Peachey thundered, his arms waving about. “Deny yourself and follow the Lord. Always! Pray and follow!”

  Mary swallowed twice and caught a glimpse of Stephen in her side vision. The man smiled and nodded in apparent full agreement with Minister Peachey. She must have judged him too harshly, which was to her shame. She had prepared herself to rebuff his attentions today. Instead, Stephen was the one who was enraptured in Minister Peachey’s sermon while her mind wandered.

  Mary clasped her hands and listened until Minister P
eachey finished and took his seat on the minister’s bench. Stephen hadn’t looked her way the whole time.

  TEN

  Early the following week, Mary descended the hill into Fort Plain on foot. The sun had risen an hour ago, and she had left the Yoders’ home immediately after the breakfast dishes had been washed. Her heart still ached, but there were things for which she could give thanks. The sermon Minister Peachey had given on Sunday was full of instruction and guidance. Whatever Stephen’s intentions had been, the man had not approached her again.

  Even Betsy had admitted as much on the ride home on Sunday afternoon. “I know that Stephen didn’t even look at you today, but I still think the man’s up to something. Why else would he have shown up at the co-op on your planned wedding day to extend his sympathies? Uninterested men don’t keep that close track of a girl.”

  Which could be true, but the Lord would grant grace for the road ahead—even if that road led to the attentions of a man like Stephen Overholt.

  Mary took a deep breath of the brisk morning air. The Lord was bringing healing. She had to believe that. She could think about Josiah this morning and not feel a stab of pain in her chest. That was an improvement. Perhaps more grace would be given as the day continued.

  Mary increased her pace. Ahead of her Mrs. Gabert’s house appeared in the early morning mist rising from the river. She should stop in and check on her. The elderly lady hadn’t been out on her porch when Mary went past yesterday. What if some accident had occurred while she was occupied with her own troubles?

  Mary turned up Mrs. Gabert’s sidewalk and knocked on the door. She heard footsteps inside, but they sounded heavier than Mrs. Gabert’s lighter ones. Mary stepped back and waited. The door swung open, and a tall, handsome young man stood in front of her.

  He smiled. “Good morning. You knocked?”

  “Oh, yah…I mean, yes…” Mary stammered. How foolish she must appear. An Amish girl knocking on a stranger’s door—only, she wasn’t a stranger to Mrs. Gabert.