Red, White and Blue Weddings: Red Like Crimson, White as Snow, Out of the Blue

by Janice Thompson

  After completing the piece, Sara insisted Karl read it aloud to everyone in the room. He did so hesitantly, hoping he’d done the man justice and yet hoping he hadn’t gone too far. When he finished reading, tears filled every eye.

  “You got it just right,” Mrs. Walken said. She drew close and gave him a hug.

  “Yes, you’ve done a wonderful job.” Sara dabbed at her eyes.

  The others in the family added their thoughts on the matter, all positive. Still, there was one who had not commented, and he longed to hear what she had to say. Karl looked into Katie’s beautiful green eyes, wishing he could kiss away the tears he found there. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, to tell her everything would be okay. Instead, he waited in silence until she nodded and whispered, “It’s beautiful, Karl.”

  He gave a simple nod in response then, realizing they couldn’t fax the obituary to the local newspaper, offered to drive it into town and hand-deliver it.

  Again, Katie looked at him with a look of genuine gratitude, mouthing a silent, “Thank you.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” Emily asked.

  Karl rose to his feet. “Of course not.” He would drive to town, no problem. In fact, he would willingly drive halfway across the country if he thought it would ease Katie’s pain. With the piece of paper folded in his hand, Karl headed for the door.

  SEVEN

  Katie marveled that the morning of her father’s funeral turned out to be so sunny and bright. It hardly seemed fair, in light of the family’s great loss. The sky overhead beckoned with a brilliant blue—the very color she’d avoided for years, thanks to that blue wedding dress. She couldn’t overlook the irony, no matter how hard she tried. Across the broad expanse of the back yard, wildflowers bloomed in colorful display, a vivid message that life, no matter how painful, would go on.

  The unquestionable beauty of the surroundings kept Katie’s tears at bay. As she stepped out onto the back porch, a gentle breeze wrapped her in its embrace, bringing comfort. Surely the Lord Himself leaned in to whisper in her ear as the winds drifted by.

  She glanced down at her plain brown dress, one she had borrowed from Emily. She wore it both out of respect for her family and out of a desire not to draw attention to herself. With so many from the community in attendance, she simply wanted to blend in. This day was all about Datt, not an opportunity to make a fashion statement.

  People from all over the county arrived by buggy for the simple service inside the Walken home, led by Jonas Stutzman, the local bishop. After everyone gathered in the living room—with some spilling out onto the porch—the bishop stood near the coffin to address the congregation. Katie knew that he would not speak of her father. Most Amish ministers did not mention the deceased at a funeral, choosing, instead, to speak from the story of creation.

  “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” Jonas read from his prayer book. “From dust man was created and to dust he returns—in sure and certain hope of the resurrection into eternal life.” He then spoke to the crowd from the Gospel of John, the fifth chapter, referring often to the resurrection of the dead.

  Katie closed her eyes and tried to picture it. The image of her father working in the fields came to mind, and in her daydream state, she could almost imagine him being snatched up, raised to the pale blue skies out of the green fields below to meet the Lord face-to-face.

  She opened her eyes once again, trying to stay focused. Across the room, Karl stood with his old friend, Ike Biden. A feeling of peace enveloped her as she caught him looking her way. His actions over the past few days had more than proven one thing—his loyalty to her family had not wavered, in spite of her actions all those years ago.

  In so many ways, Karl’s loyalty reminded Katie of her father’s steadfastness. Never had she met a man so dedicated to family as Datt, so selfless, so willing to give of himself to others, even at his own expense. She had never heard him complain. Not once. Her thoughts shifted to her work at the realty office. How many times a day did she whine about this little thing or that? Dozens likely.

  If I could be half the person he was, I’d be doing well.

  After the brief ceremony, the crowd of people shifted out- of-doors, to prepare for the ride to the cemetery. Each buggy received a number, designating the order in which it would proceed. Katie stood alongside her sisters, watching as Datt’s coffin was placed in the hearse, a boxlike enclosed carriage drawn by a horse. Then she glanced down at the long line of buggies heading to the cemetery. They presented a solemn, impressive sight.

  It took a considerable length of time to make it to the cemetery, what with the whole caravan of buggies, but Katie didn’t mind. She wanted to put off the inevitable as long as possible. When they finally arrived, Karl appeared next to their carriage, ready to offer a hand to the women in the Walken family. He greeted her mother with a look of genuine caring and then helped Sara next. Finally, he reached out to take Katie’s hand. She held on to his as she stepped down onto the ground—ground that would soon swallow up the wooden box that held her father’s body.

  Katie didn’t realize that she still gripped Karl’s hand until they arrived at the gravesite. With embarrassment taking hold, she loosened her grip and focused on the task ahead. She took one look at the chasm in the ground, however, and her heart lurched. If anything, she wanted to reach for Karl’s arm once more, to steady herself. Instead, she brushed away a loose tear and planted her feet firmly on the ground, determined to remain strong for her mother and siblings.

  As was the custom with Amish funerals, no songs were sung during the burial service. Instead, Bishop Stutzman read the words to an old familiar hymn as the pallbearers lowered the coffin into the grave. Afterward, the whole group silently prayed the Lord’s Prayer. Katie thanked the Lord for the opportunity to close her eyes, to shut out the reality of what took place directly in front of her. She half wished the whole thing had been a dream, that she could open her eyes to discover Datt standing beside her, arm around her shoulder, offering comfort.

  At some point during the prayer the tears came in force. Only then did she feel a hand slip into her own—a strong hand with a gentle touch. A hand with a tissue in it. She would have to remember to thank Karl later for his kindness. Following the burial, friends and family members gathered around to console the family. Katie watched as her mother received embrace after embrace and tried to imagine what it would feel like to lose the only person you had ever loved. It surely left her mother’s heart with a gaping hole inside, one only the Lord would be able to fill over the following months and years.

  After the crowd thinned, Sara drew close for a quiet conversation. “Several of the ladies have brought food to the house, so we’re going back for lunch.” She looked over at Karl, who remained nearby, and added, “We hope you will join us.”

  “Of course.” He nodded then looked at Katie, perhaps in an effort to get her opinion on the matter. She offered up a warm smile and a nod. Of course he could stay for lunch.

  Having Karl here, beside her, felt so right, so normal. Katie couldn’t help but wonder. Why did it feel so wrong all those years ago?

  ❧

  Karl kept a watchful eye on Katie throughout the afternoon. The exhaustion in her eyes grew more apparent with each step she took. In spite of his best attempts to slow her down, she insisted on scurrying around the room, tending to the needs of others. Working with great zeal, she filled plates and helped out in the kitchen. He couldn’t get her to sit, no matter how hard he tried. In that respect, she was much like her mother. Perhaps too much.

  Karl pondered that for a moment. The Amish work ethic had always been drilled into him, from childhood on. How many times while growing up had he heard the words “Be wary of idle hands”?

  The Walken family members were the hardest workers in the community, and Katie appeared to have inherited a double dose of their energy. She never seemed to slow her pace, even during the hardest of times. He thought back to their childhoo
ds, remembering the many times she had taken on extra chores around the farm, as if to prove she could outwork anyone else in the family. And then as a teen, her lengthy hours at the store had always concerned him.

  Karl was reminded of his recent visit to her posh office at Bucks County Realty. Beneath the polished exterior, he’d noticed stacks of papers on her desk and a very full calendar with dozens of appointments penciled in. Surely she had taken on the challenge of hard work with a vengeance. No one could deny that. But when did she rest? She seemed to run full throttle day and night.

  Running.

  She’d been running for as long as he could remember, now that he thought about it. And if she didn’t slow down soon, she would eventually burn herself out.

  Unable to control the protective feelings that flooded over him as he watched her, Karl decided a change of focus was in order. He sat next to Amos, Katie’s oldest brother, and engaged him in conversation. They talked about the future and the efforts Daniel and Amos would continue to put into the farm.

  “We love this land,” Amos explained. “And we will work hard to keep things going, as Datt taught us.”

  Karl knew the Walken farm remained in good hands but had to wonder how Elam’s sons would manage without their father’s expertise. The man had been a brilliant farmer, always producing the best crops in the county. And his dairy cows were among the heartiest, as well. Karl hoped Elam’s sons and sons-in-law would take over where Elam had left off. Later that afternoon, the crowd thinned and Karl finally managed to get Katie to himself. They sat together in adjoining wicker rockers, and she kicked off her shoes, grumbling about her aching feet. No doubt they ached. She’d been on them all day. She closed her eyes for a minute or so, but when they opened, he noticed the glistening of tears. He longed to reach out and take her hand but didn’t dare—not here in the house, anyway.

  “You’ve had a hard day,” he managed. She nodded. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Katie let out a lingering sigh. “Not unless you have the ability to go back and change some of the mistakes I made in the past.”

  Karl smiled. “Trust me, if I could do that, I’d start with my own mistakes.”

  Her momentary silence bothered him, but not as much as what she said after. “You’ve never been prone to mistakes, Karl. I’m talking about the big stuff. The kinds of things I’ve done that hurt my family. And you.”

  He wanted to quote a Bible verse—to remind her that everyone sinned, everyone fell short of the glory of God—but didn’t. Instead, he simply listened as she bared her soul.

  “I know there’s really no way to undo the past,” Katie said with a wistful look in her eye. “I know that. But if I could, I’d go back and do so many things differently.”

  Karl wondered which things, specifically, she referred to but did not ask. “Life is filled with ‘could haves’ and ‘would haves.’ ” He shrugged. “The only thing I can suggest is that you forgive yourself for the things you regret and thank God that every day is a brand new beginning.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Katie took a nibble of coffee cake and then leaned back against her chair. After a few seconds of neither of them speaking, she finally broke the silence. “It’s just hard to picture tomorrow as a new beginning after what we’ve been through.” She shook her head. “I can’t even imagine what my mother will do without Datt. And my brothers and sisters—they have so much work ahead of them with the farm, the house, the store. It’s going to be a lot to handle without my father here to lead the way.”

  Ah. So she’s worried about their workload. Feeling guilty about not being here to help. Somehow that didn’t surprise him.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked finally. “Are you contemplating coming back—to live?”

  Her face paled. “Oh, Karl, I. . .I can’t imagine it.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Can you?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve thought about it hundreds of times, but I truly feel the Lord has given me my marching orders. I don’t think I’ll ever go back to the Old Order again.”

  “Me either.” She shook her head. “But I won’t be much help to my mother from Doylestown, will I?”

  “I know you well enough to know you will stay in touch with her. And you can always visit,” he said. “It’s just a couple of hours, after all.”

  “True.” She leaned back and closed her eyes once more, and he wondered if she might doze off. Instead, she whispered, “I never thought my dad would die. He just seemed. . .”

  “Immortal?”

  She nodded. “I know we’re all going to die eventually, but I never really spent much time thinking about it, at least as it pertained to my family. And my dad, of all people! He was. . .”

  “Invincible?”

  She opened her eyes and gazed at him with a nod. “Yes. That’s the word. He was the strongest man I’ve ever known. And he lived such a wonderful life.”

  Karl looked into her eyes, his heart swelling as he remembered something his father had always said. “Life is a gift,” he said, repeating his datt’s familiar words, “and death is a given.”

  “You’re really wise,” Katie said with a sigh. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “Hardly.” He laughed. “Though some of the attorneys in my office come to me for advice on occasion. And some of the kids in my youth group at church, as well.”

  “I can see why.” She gave him a pensive look, and for a moment, he wanted to slip his arm over her shoulder, to draw her close.

  Unfortunately, his cell phone chose that very moment to ring. He’d meant to silence it earlier in the day, out of respect for the family. Somehow, he must’ve forgotten. Thank goodness it hadn’t rung during the service.

  With a sigh, Karl glanced down at the number then reacted rather quickly to what he saw. “It’s Aimee,” he whispered, rising to his feet, “hopefully calling about the Chandler property. I’ll take it out on the porch.”

  With a spring in his step, he bounded for the door.

  EIGHT

  The morning after the funeral, Karl approached the Walken house with a fishing pole in his hand. The idea had come to him in the night. At first he had pushed it off, wondering if Katie would think it inappropriate. Then, after wrestling with the sheets for a couple of hours, he had settled on the idea that a visit to the Pequea Creek would be therapeutic for both of them.

  Besides, he would be leaving for Doylestown later in the day to sign a final contract on the Chandler place. If everything went as planned, he would close on the property by month’s end. A second call, this one from his office, had filled him in on a host of other work-related things that awaited him back at home.

  Home. Hmm.

  He sighed as he thought about it. As much as he wanted to get back to work, leaving Paradise seemed wrong, at least if Katie remained behind. Still, he could do little about it. Work called, and he must answer. If possible, he would spend his final hours here with her. Surely that would ease the pain of leaving.

  Karl pondered that for a moment. Despite his best attempts, his heart still remained tied to Katie. Sure, he’d dated other girls over the years, tried to care about one or two of them in the same way he’d care for her. But nothing felt the same.

  Why those age-old feelings returned with such a vengeance now, he could not say. After all, he had done his best to squelch them. Hadn’t he? And surely she had shown no particular interest in him beyond friendship.

  Thankfully, Katie answered the door. The weariness in her eyes stunned him.

  “You could use a break.” He lifted the pole for her to see. “What would you think about a little fishing trip?”

  “Fishing trip?” She looked stunned. “I can’t leave Mamm here alone with so much to be done.”

  “You go on, Katydid,” her mother said, appearing behind her. “Aunt Emma is coming by to help me, and your brothers will be by later, as well. They will tend to whatever needs I have. Besides, I’m plenty tired. I might just lie down and take a
nap this morning.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Her mother yawned then walked back into the house.

  And so, in spite of her argument to the contrary, Katie agreed to join Karl along the banks of Pequea Creek for a morning of fishing, just like the old days. His heart swelled with joy at the thought of it. They would have one last morning together before. . .well, before normal life kicked in again.

  As they walked along, Katie seemed preoccupied with their surroundings. “I can’t believe these wildflowers.” She pointed to a cluster of pink impatiens. “Were they always this colorful?”

  “They were.”

  “And the grass.” She pointed out across the pastures. “I honestly think it’s greener since I left.”

  “Your leaving turned the grass greener?” He couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s pretty humorous, you have to admit.”

  “I’m just saying I don’t remember things being this. . . beautiful. How was I raised in all of this without actually seeing it for what it was? The Amish country is the prettiest land I’ve ever seen, and I’ve traveled extensively over the years.”

  “Agreed,” Karl said. “And I’ve thought about the irony many times.”

  “Irony?”

  “We both left Paradise to enter the outside world.”

  “Ah”—she sighed—“I see what you mean. That is ironic, especially when you see how pretty it is.”

  They arrived at the edge of the creek, and Karl stood spellbound by the sight. Somehow he remembered the creek as being larger. Wider. But today it seemed a narrow slit across the land, just a trickle of water in comparison to the picture he’d locked in his memory.

  In spite of this, he still wanted to fish, if for no other reason than to be with the woman who now captivated both his heart and his thoughts. He located the perfect spot for Katie to sit then joined her. After a few minutes spent baiting their hooks and tossing them out into the water, he felt compelled to finish the conversation they had started earlier.