Mary's Home

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Mary set her face toward the north. She would not think about Josiah this morning or about Willard’s handsome face. Love was not for her at the moment. She had found work to do until the Lord opened a door she could walk through that led to home and family sometime in the future. In the meantime, a thankful heart was in order even in the midst of her great lack. Did not the Scriptures say that it was more blessed to give than to receive?

  The rattle of buggy wheels filled the stillness of the morning air behind her. Mary stepped to the side of the road and waved as the women drove past. She was early, but not early enough, apparently. As the person who had instigated this plan, she should have arrived first. But she wasn’t late yet. Mary followed the buggies in their turn onto Nestle Road and up to Deacon Stoltzfus’s driveway moments later. The two buggies were already unhitched, the horses already in the barn. Deacon Stoltzfus appeared in the door, his bearded face red and cheerful.

  “Goot morning, Mary,” he greeted her. “Where’s your horse?”

  “I walked up.”

  “Goot, goot. Well, I was glad to hear of your idea, and so was Rachel. You are an example for the whole community to follow—how Plain people can reach out and help faraway places like Kenya.”

  Mary blushed under the deacon’s praise and bowed her head. “I guess the Lord is comforting my heart in my trouble.”

  The deacon’s eyes twinkled again. “Stephen Overholt must be quite happy with the turn of events. I’m thinking he can see the Lord’s hand in your sorrow.”

  “I guess so,” Mary allowed, though she really should set the record straight. Hiding had its limits. “Not everything is quite what it seems,” she began. “See, I…well, I accepted Stephen’s offer of a date in order to help him. I’ve been honest with the man from the start and explained things to him.”

  “Oh.” Deacon Stoltzfus’s red-bearded face creased in puzzlement. “But Stephen has been saying around the community that he’s taking you home again this Sunday evening. Surely you are not playing with his heart? I would not have thought such a thing of you. And I say that out of great respect.”

  “I…oh…this is going to sound awful, I’m afraid, but I offered to help Stephen change some things about himself. I wanted to help him find a frau who truly suits him. The man…he doesn’t know how to go about such things,” Mary finished with a groan. “I hope you don’t think I’m doing something wrong?”

  The deacon peered at her. “And Stephen understands this?”

  Mary nodded.

  A grin slowly grew on the deacon’s face. “You are not wasting your time, Mary. But what else would we expect from you, even in your sorrow? Making blankets for needy Kenyan children. Helping one of our bachelors find a frau. I commend you, Mary. I hope this works for Stephen. The Lord knows he needs help.”

  “Then you don’t disapprove?”

  The deacon chuckled. “I give you my blessing, Mary. And I’m sure Bishop Miller will feel the same way.”

  Mary took a deep breath. “I really should be going into the house. This was my idea.”

  “You have a goot day, then. And the Lord be with you in your worthy projects. Someday a man will come along to fit your dreams, Mary.”

  A blush crept up Mary’s neck, and she turned to dash up the sidewalk. She wasn’t totally worthy of the deacon’s praise.

  Willard hadn’t yet invited her to another Englisha church meeting, which was for the best. She wouldn’t have accepted, and Willard doubtless knew this. That danger was surely past.

  Ahead of her Rachel opened the front door of the house with a bright smile. “Goot morning, Mary. I see Mose has been telling you of his approval.”

  “Yah,” Mary responded. “I appreciate this so much.”

  “We are the ones who appreciate your efforts.” Rachel held the door open wide.

  Mary entered and exchanged goot mornings with the two women who had arrived earlier. They were busy with quilting frames, setting them up in the living room. Mary joined in as more buggies arrived, and Rachel stayed at the front door to greet the women. Mamm came in by the time all the frames were set up and the quilting had begun.

  “Did Betsy leave for the co-op on time?” Mary whispered to Mamm.

  Mamm nodded. “She drove down with Danny Boy. She’ll be okay for the day.”

  “I know,” Mary agreed. She busied herself with the first small quilt, a plain dark blue with white cross-stitches. Some Kenyan boy would find great comfort with this blanket. These gifts could be sent straight to Kenya, so Willard wouldn’t need to visit the co-op again. Any coordination could be done with Mrs. Gabert.

  “So what gave you this idea?” Rachel pulled out a chair and seated herself beside Mary.

  “Mrs. Gabert, an Englisha woman that I know, introduced us to her grandson’s mission project,” Mary began. “Betsy and I ended up going to two of his talks on Kenya. The stories he told gripped our hearts, and I asked what I could do that might help. So here we are.” Mary ended with a little laugh. “I knew the blanket project was too large for me to handle by myself.”

  Rachel smiled. “You know we are here to help one another, and what better way than this? We should have a dozen or so blankets finished by this evening. Do you think this is something we can do again in the future?”

  Mary made a face. “Maybe we should only try this once and see where it goes. I’ll talk with Mrs. Gabert about how the shipping should be handled, and we’ll see what kind of feedback comes from Kenya. Willard, Mrs. Gabert’s grandson, said that fancy things aren’t needed. They are looking for things more geared to comfort, so this should fit well, but there might still be other things that could be adjusted.”

  “Is this Willard a married man?” Rachel asked.

  “I don’t think so. Well, I guess I do know. He’s not, but he’s an Englisha man. They do things differently.”

  “You’re dating Stephen,” Rachel said. “We just heard the news. That’s wunderbah.”

  “I’m trying to help Stephen. That’s why I’m spending time with him.” Mary caught her breath. “I just explained it to Mose.”

  “Oh.” Rachel didn’t appear surprised. “I wondered why you’d accepted a date with him. I know your heart is broken, but you also have a level head about you.”

  “You don’t think Stephen is a suitable husband?”

  “Not for you, Mary. You know that.”

  “I do,” Mary admitted. Flames of red were creeping up her neck. “Maybe I took too much on myself by trying to help him. I’m not trying to be prideful.”

  “And you told Mose this?”

  “Yah!”

  “What did he say?”

  Mary hung onto the edge of the quilt frame. “He gave me his blessing.”

  A smile crept across Rachel’s face. “I am not surprised, Mary. Everyone can see your serving heart, but do be careful. You know Stephen will fall in love with you. What are you going to do then?”

  “He won’t,” Mary insisted.

  “You don’t know men very well, do you?”

  Mary winced. “I suppose I don’t. Why else would Josiah…”

  Rachel patted Mary on the arm. “Just don’t play this out too long, okay? A few dates with Stephen can set him on the right path, but be careful, Mary. The heart has a mind of its own.”

  “Thank you for your understanding,” Mary whispered. “I can see my faults plainer with each passing day.”

  “We all have weak moments,” Rachel said. “Admitting our faults is half the victory, and you have been honest, so the Lord will help you. In the meantime, much goot is coming out of your troubles. Isn’t our Lord mysterious in how He works?”

  Tears stung in Mary’s eyes as she nodded.

  “I do want to express my regret for the way Josiah used you,” Rachel continued. “Such things shouldn’t happen among the people of the community, but we are failing human beings. I suppose the blessing is that he figured out where his affections lay before he said the wedding vows. You wou
ldn’t want to live with a man who wished he had made another choice, would you? That’s a hard question to face, but the truth heals.”

  “Yah, I know.” Mary focused on her needle. She couldn’t wipe away her tears even if the quilt swum in front of her eyes.

  “Both Mose and I will be praying that the Lord opens the door for love again in your life.” Rachel spoke above the murmur of the women’s conversation. “We are not meant to live alone or walk the road of life by ourselves. A woman with your compassionate heart has a man and a home waiting for her somewhere. The Lord will open up the door in His own time.”

  “Thank you,” Mary told her. “That is so kind of you to say, even with my bold ways.”

  Rachel smiled sweetly. “You are a jewel, Mary. We are making quilts today for Kenyan children on the basis of your own reputation. That’s quite a testimony, and one for which you can give thanks to the Lord.”

  “I’m far from perfect,” Mary objected.

  Rachel didn’t reply as Annie, the bishop’s frau, leaned over their shoulders to ask, “What are you two chattering about this morning?”

  “Just comforting Mary in her troubles with Josiah,” Rachel told her, “and talking about her future.”

  “That man…that…” Annie sputtered. “He sure passed up a goot frau. That’s all I can say.”

  “There you go!” Rachel smiled kindly. “I’m sure someone will be along to snatch up Mary in no time.”

  “What about Stephen?” Annie appeared puzzled.

  “She’s trying to help him,” Rachel whispered under her hand.

  Annie laughed. “Only Mary would do that. Just look at her. Few women in the community could have gotten a project like this together for Kenyan aid. I do wish I had a single son still available!”

  “See there?” Rachel patted Mary on the arm again. “Let the Lord comfort your heart.”

  “I agree,” Annie seconded. “In the meantime, can you spare a moment, Rachel? Susie Byler has a question about potty-training her youngest son. I thought you would be the perfect woman to give advice.”

  “I can try.” Rachel stood. “But where’s Susie’s mamm?”

  Annie made a face. “Sounds like they need a second opinion because the first one isn’t working.”

  “Not that again,” Rachel muttered. She walked off in the direction of the kitchen.

  “You take care now,” Annie told Mary. She left in the opposite direction.

  Mary let out a long breath as she stuck the needle in and pulled the thread through the thick cloth.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Mary exited the mudroom door of Deacon Stoltzfus’s home on Sunday evening and searched the darkness outside. She hadn’t paid attention to where Stephen had parked his buggy when he drove in for the hymn singing hours earlier. The man had seemed happier and more relaxed all evening, perched on the second single men’s bench while the sacred hymns had been sung. She wasn’t filled with anticipation at the thought of her evening ahead. That was an emotion Josiah had always provoked, but neither did she feel dread. Stephen was a pleasant enough person underneath his strangeness.

  Stephen’s broad hat appeared in the barn door. His hand was on his horse’s bridle, and he headed toward the far end of the buggy line. Mary stepped off the porch and wrapped her shawl tightly around her shoulders before dashing across the frozen lawn. Winter was only weeks away from the feel of things, when the snowstorms could sweep down from the Adirondacks with a furor.

  “Goot evening,” Mary greeted Stephen at the buggy.

  He jumped, and the tug slipped out of his gloved hand.

  Mary ignored the mishap to offer, “Shall I help on the other side?”

  “If you wish, or want to, Mary. But in this cold, with the wind picking up, if you think it best, you can climb in the buggy and wait. I’m used to hitching the horse, as you can see, by myself.” He gave a nervous laugh.

  “Did you enjoy the hymn singing?” Mary walked over to the other side and slid on the tug, followed by the snap of the harness.

  His gaze followed her, but he seemed lost in his own thoughts. “Oh,” he finally said. “I’m not used to, as you can imagine, getting out on Sunday evenings—that is, for the hymn singing. But yah, the hymns are always a blessing to sing, as are all the Lord’s ways, and His will.”

  Mary climbed into the buggy, and Stephen tossed her the reins before he pulled himself up the step.

  Stephen took the lines and called out, “Giddyap!” His horse walked forward, plodding slowly out of the driveway. Stephen settled himself before he glanced toward Mary. “So how is your project—that one with the, you know, the Englisha man? Is it coming along?”

  “Okay, I guess. The women’s sewing circle was this week, and we completed more than a dozen blankets. I took the finished products down to Mrs. Gabert’s.”

  “Will there be more? I mean, of these blankets in the future, with this…what was his name?”

  “Willard.” Mary shifted on her seat.

  Willard hadn’t been at Mrs. Gabert’s home when she stopped by. But he was still in the country, down south in Virginia doing talks in churches. Mrs. Gabert had told her with a warm smile that Willard would make the arrangements to ship the blankets to Kenya.

  Stephen was mid-sentence when Mary tuned back in. “…almost, at least it could be, if you hear the name only, an Amish man.”

  Mary chuckled. “Willard isn’t an Amish man, believe me. Not even close, but that’s beside the point. How was your week?”

  “The same, much of the same. I cooked, I cleaned the house where I could. I only get the spiderwebs when, it’s embarrassing to say this, but when they get bad, which is really bad from, shall we say, through a woman’s eyes.”

  “That’s why you need a wife,” Mary replied.

  She tried to keep the laughter out of her voice. The image of Stephen swatting at the house ceiling with a broom after spiderwebs was hilarious.

  “This is true. Like you said earlier, I need much help, which perhaps only the Lord can give. But you were gracious enough to offer, and why should I think that the Lord’s hand should not be behind a wunderbah woman like you, if I can say that?”

  Mary laughed this time. “You can say what you want, I guess, but Josiah thought otherwise, so we need to take that into account.”

  “Josiah was not—and everyone would surely agree with this, at least in this community—a very wise man.” He shook the reins a few times for emphasis. “Josiah could not see the Lord’s will.”

  “Well, we had best not speak of him.” Mary stared off into the chilly darkness. “Have you seen a widow yet who might make a decent frau for you? That’s what we need to speak about.”

  Stephen grunted. “The Lord has not shown His light on the way, at least that I can see. There is only, if I look around, everywhere I go, darkness spread upon my path.”

  Mary took a long breath. “Maybe that’s where we should begin, Stephen. The Lord set marriage in order, but it’s not a supernatural endeavor. There doesn’t need to be lights from heaven shining down. You may not even have great feelings involved. Sometimes it’s just practical. You work on what fits and on what is right for you. Can you think about that?”

  He turned into the Yoders’ driveway and parked by the barn before he answered. “That’s a hard, really difficult thing to think about, Mary, let alone to think that I might…I don’t know how to say it. I just always, in my mind at least, thought that the Lord, being wise and holy and all-knowing, would be glad to show me what His will must be. That is why, forgive for me bringing this up again, but when I heard, all those months ago, that Josiah had left you, I saw, in my faint understanding at least, a light cast on my path. Mary Yoder must be the woman the Lord has chosen for me.”

  “Stephen, please,” Mary begged. Rachel’s warning buzzed in her ears. Stephen will fall in love with you. “We’ve been over this before. Remember?”

  “I know.” He sighed and climbed down from the buggy to tie up h
is horse.

  She followed and waited by the hitching post until he finished. They walked up toward the house in silence. Thankfully, Betsy and Gerald had left the hymn singing earlier, so she wouldn’t have to deal with their snide remarks or rude behavior. But maybe Betsy was right this time. Was Mary in over her head?

  She forced a smile and held open the front door for Stephen. He entered and seated himself on the couch while she slipped into the kitchen for chocolate chip cookies and glasses of milk. He was grim faced when she returned, but his expression softened at the offered goodies.

  He took a bite of a cookie and took a sip of milk before speaking. “Do you think I could change my thoughts, my understanding of the Lord’s ways? That is, if you are, at least you think you are, right in what you are saying?”

  “I spoke with both Deacon Stoltzfus and Rachel at the sewing circle this week.” Mary grasped at straws. “I told them about what you and I hoped to accomplish. Mose and Rachel were both supportive. I don’t know everything, Stephen, or even that much, but I think I am right on this. If Amish people are anything, they are practical, and your spiritual thinking is clouding your judgment.”

  “So, if I can say it right, why aren’t you and I practical? This could be, as the Lord has shown me, a real date. In the months ahead at least, we could be speaking and planning for our future together, Mary.”

  Mary groaned. “There must be feelings, Stephen, and seeing eye to eye, and such things. We don’t fit each other. For example, someday I would like to visit Kenya and see for myself how the work among the glue boys is going. Would you be interested in such a thing?”

  Stephen eyed another cookie. “What do you mean by, how did you say it, interested? What does that, would you say, mean in my ways or terms of understanding?”