Becoming Bea

by Leslie Gould

  “It’s all set,” she said. “The marriages will be published tomorrow and held a week from this coming Thursday.” She giggled. “Church is at the Mosiers’ farm, but Mervin will be with me and I guess Martin will come over here.” Our district held to the old tradition of the bride- and groom-to-be not attending the service when their marriage was published. Instead the bride prepared a meal for the groom during that time.

  “Goodness,” I said. “Your family’s been working on the wedding for a while, then.”

  “Of course,” she answered. “I just couldn’t imagine getting married without Molly here. So when I found out they were thinking about moving to Montana, I started the planning.”

  “Wait, when did you start the planning?”

  “When they first started talking about the property in Montana.”

  “But you wouldn’t have known until they returned . . .”

  She shook her head. “They knew a couple of months ago they were interested in the ranch.”

  I took a deep breath, until I felt as if I might explode.

  She rushed on. “That’s not what I came up to talk about, actually. I wanted to apologize for the other day. What you choose to do really isn’t my business.”

  Flabbergasted, I asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Whom you . . . spend your time with. What you do.”

  “But it is your business,” I said. “We’re part of the same community.”

  “Jah, I get that,” she said. “But I was thinking maybe Ben mixed things up.”

  I nodded.

  “Jah, that’s what I thought. So you weren’t committed to him like he thought?”

  I started shaking my head. “No, I was. Absolutely.”

  “Then why did you—”

  “I’m telling you, I didn’t!” My voice may have been a little loud by then.

  Hannah stepped back. “Goodness, what a mess. I can’t figure any of this out, not for the life of me.”

  I wanted to say, Welcome to my world—I’d heard that from Molly, probably a phrase she’d picked up at some party—but didn’t.

  She glanced toward the door. “I should get back downstairs. I’ve said too much. Don’t be mad at Molly about the whole Montana thing. Or at Ben. He’s really hurt.”

  I didn’t answer as she turned and fled.

  Had Mamm known from the beginning about Molly and Leon’s plan to move to Montana? They’d all deceived me.

  And why was everyone so sympathetic toward Ben? Didn’t they know my heart was broken too?

  I didn’t go to church the next day either. Bob had to go to announce Hope’s wedding so I encouraged Pete to go with him. I didn’t want to face Molly and Mamm in a crowd of people. After Bob and Pete left, I took the babies into Cate’s room to keep her company, lining them up on her bed, while Nan went back to sleep. Hope started preparing her meal for Martin, who would arrive in about an hour.

  Rain pelted the windows of the sunroom. The gray day matched my mood, but spending time with Cate and the babies began lifting it. I handed Leah to Cate, along with a bottle.

  “Is it weird to think of these little ones as your siblings?” I asked as I settled a sleeping Kurt into the playpen I’d dragged down the hall and into the room.

  Cate shook her head. “No. I’m just so grateful God blessed Nan and Dat. And that all the babies are healthy. What an unimaginable gift. There’s nothing like family.”

  Her words stung as I thought of my own. I considered not seeing them at all that evening. Molly would end up getting her way, no matter what I said. Mamm would sell the farm. They’d all move to Montana. And I’d end up going because I didn’t have anything else to do with my life.

  I could try to stay with Edna, but I’d need a job, probably more of one than working for the Millers.

  “What’s wrong?” Cate asked as she shifted Leah to the other side of her big belly.

  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  “Everything?” Cate asked.

  I shook my head again.

  Hope came in to chat while the pasta cooked, sitting on the end of Cate’s bed while I walked Asher. She asked how many guests were usually invited to weddings in Lancaster County. “I mean, I was at Bob and Nan’s and it was huge. Are most that big?”

  “It depends,” Cate said. “My wedding was pretty small. Around two hundred people. Because you’re sharing the day with Hannah and Mervin, it will probably be pretty big. I’d say four hundred or so.”

  That sounded right to me too. That was about what we had at Molly’s.

  Hope kept asking questions, but I zoned out, staring at Asher, who for the moment was both awake and calm, while I thought about Ben. I’d been right about him all along. He only thought of himself. E-G-O-C-E-N-T-R-I-C. It had been one of our fifth-grade spelling words.

  “Oh, I didn’t think I’d ever marry,” Cate said, drawing my attention back to the conversation.

  “Didn’t you court?”

  Cate chuckled. “Funny thing . . . I actually went out with Martin and Mervin’s older brother a few times. But that was all. I was awfully prickly back then. I still was even after I met and then married Pete.”

  “What happened?” Hope asked.

  “God tamed me,” Cate said. “I finally learned to trust him—instead of expecting so much from myself and others. I really had behaved badly up to that point.”

  “Oh,” Hope said.

  Hope was so sweet, she’d never have to worry about behaving badly. But I could sympathize with Cate. Hope jumped to her feet. “Oh, no,” she said, rushing from the room. “The pasta!”

  Soon all three babies were asleep and I put them down in the playpen, where they wiggled close to each other until they were touching, giving Cate a chance to rest.

  Bob and Pete would eat after the church service with everyone else in our district. I planned to heat up leftover soup for Nan, Cate, and me—after Hope and Martin finished eating.

  He’d arrived by the time I entered the kitchen. “I’m going upstairs,” I said to Hope. “Come get me when the Bopplis wake up.”

  As others in our district worshipped together at the Mosiers’ house, I tried to read Scripture, opening my Bible to the Psalms, but I couldn’t concentrate. I opened my journal instead. I’d hardly written in it since I’d come to the Millers’. I hadn’t had time. Now I didn’t know where to start. With Ben wanting to court me? With Molly’s return from Montana? With Don treating me so badly and Ben dumping me? I closed my journal, tears filling my eyes.

  “Oh, God,” I whispered out loud. I’d worked at being so good, done all the right things, and still nothing had worked out. Why had he given me the desire to be married when I’d suppressed it for so long? And the wish to be a mother? Only to take away all of my chances? How absurd life could be. There was a time I might have laughed at all of it. But now I cared.

  Maybe because my pride—mei Hohchmoot—was hurt. That wouldn’t be surprising. It seemed my pride had been part of my problem all along. When it came to my competition with Ben. To my reluctance to spend time with the other Youngie. To my hurt from when Ben stopped courting me the first time.

  However, my hurt now wasn’t related to my pride. Only to Don’s meanness and Ben’s stubbornness.

  I shut my journal and opened my Bible again, to Psalms, skipping ahead of my reading, looking for something my Dat had marked. I stopped at Psalm 143:8, which was underlined with the faint marks of a pencil. I read it silently and then out loud, “‘Cause me to hear thy lovingkindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust: cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee.’”

  Pride was the opposite of trusting God. I could trust myself, to no avail, or in humbleness trust him.

  I closed my Bible, tiptoed down the stairs, and hurried past Hope and Martin, who sat eating at the table as I listened for the babies. All was silent. Then I hurried out the door and to the shop.

  I knew no one would mind if I used the
phone. I dialed our number and left a message for Molly. “Please call your friend in Ohio as soon as possible,” I said. “I really need to get to the bottom of this.”

  Afterward, back on my bed, I picked up the book about caring for infants that Cate had loaned me.

  By the time the men returned from church, Hope and Martin had gone for a walk. As Pete headed straight down the hall to Cate, Bob said to me, “Your Mamm and Molly both asked about you. They’re looking forward to seeing you this evening.”

  The singing that night was at the Mosiers’ farm too. The plan was that I would give Hope a ride there and then spend that time with my family. Martin would soon be returning home to help get ready for the singing.

  Bob assured me he could handle supper. “I think I’ll make pancakes,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “Pete can fry the bacon.”

  I took Love with us, in case she wanted to stay home. I was pretty sure Don was long gone. By the time we reached the lane to the Mosiers’ place it was pitch-dark, except for the lantern and the running lights on the buggy. I stopped Thunder by the mailbox, tempted to ask Hope to walk up the lane so I didn’t have to show my face at the singing. But I realized that was a little over the top and slightly dangerous, considering how dark it was.

  When I reached the Mosiers’ shed, Hope jumped down, practically into Martin’s arms, and told me she’d get him to walk her over to my family’s place when the singing was over. “There’s no reason for you to come back here,” she said.

  “Denki,” I answered and then turned Thunder around, scoping out who was there. I didn’t see Ben. But Phillip stood near the doorway with Jessie. She waved at me, but I pretended I didn’t see her, not wanting to draw Phillip’s attention.

  I had a new empathy for her. How had she stayed so centered after Phillip dumped her? Everyone knew. And yet she didn’t seem out of sorts at all—she’d stayed serene, at least by all appearances.

  As Thunder pulled the buggy back onto the highway, I whispered a prayer, “Please, God, help me to trust you. To stay centered on you, not myself.”

  In my mind, I’d called Ben egocentric, but so was I. And I’d continue to be, unless I allowed God to intervene.

  Out loud I’d called Ben an ignoramus. And then I’d been so pleased that Hope had lumped all the boys into that category, to their faces. I flinched. I was one too.

  But I still wanted the truth and there was nothing wrong with that. “Please, God,” I prayed again. I knew he wanted truth and justice, but sometimes God didn’t bring those two about until heaven. “I’ll trust your timing,” I whispered as I turned Thunder up the lane toward home.

  Love jumped down from the buggy and ran toward the house, barking. Molly opened the back door and stepped onto the stoop, waving at me. Once Love reached her, she bent down to pet her.

  After I unhitched Thunder and put him in the pasture, I stepped into the barn and called the gray kitty. She came running and rubbed my ankle as I petted her. But then she darted off just as quickly, ready to be on her own.

  By the time I reached the house, Love had settled into her usual spot under the eaves near the back door, and Molly had returned to the kitchen. When I entered, she and Mamm were dishing up supper while Leon sat at the table.

  But he wasn’t alone. Hannah and Mervin sat with him.

  For a moment I was tempted to hightail it back to the Millers’.

  But then Mamm rushed toward me, wrapping her arms around me. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  I wished I could say the same. Still, leaving wouldn’t be fair to Mamm. As I washed my hands at the sink, Molly whispered, “I didn’t invite them. Honest. They just came by, said they didn’t want to go to the singing.”

  I simply nodded my head.

  After we all sat down and Leon led us in prayer, Molly began the conversation by saying, “I got your voicemail. I kept forgetting, but I finally called my friend in Ohio this afternoon. She gave me the name and cell phone number of a girl from Don’s old district who’s left the church.”

  I shook my head, wanting her to stop.

  “No, she really did,” Molly said, as if I were contradicting her.

  I gave her a wide-eyed look, hoping she’d get my hint. I didn’t want to talk about it in front of Hannah and Mervin.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Molly asked, but before I could answer she said, “Don’s girlfriend broke up with him and that’s why he moved to Lancaster. The girl I talked to said she doubted his ex-girlfriend would come see him here—because she’s getting married next week.”

  “Goodness,” Hannah said.

  Mervin passed the pork chops to Mamm. “Don never said anything about a girlfriend.”

  “Not to you or anyone else,” I said. “But he did to me.”

  “He said something about a wife.” Mervin looked at me. “She died, right?”

  “That’s what he said.” I put the cooked carrots down in the middle of the table.

  “Well,” Molly said, “I asked about that too. This girl said he was never married.”

  I gasped.

  Molly nodded.

  “That’s not right,” Mervin said. “He has a beard. And Phillip said he was married.”

  Molly shook her head. “But none of the family actually went to the wedding. They simply believed Don, and why wouldn’t they? The girl I talked to said he wanted to be married, but the girl he asked refused him. And then she was killed in a buggy accident a few months later.”

  “No,” Mervin said, putting down his fork. “The girl you talked to has to be mistaken.”

  “I don’t think so,” Molly said.

  “How odd,” Hannah said, making eye contact with Mervin.

  He shook his head as if Molly were crazy and then said, “It doesn’t make sense. Don was way too convincing when he talked about his dead wife. He teared up and everything while we were hunting.”

  “Maybe it was the smoke from the campfire,” I said.

  Mervin made a face. “But what about his beard?”

  “It’s not that long,” Molly answered.

  “Jah,” Mervin agreed. “But he probably trimmed it.”

  “Or started growing it before he moved here, since his family would have all expected him to have one,” Molly countered.

  “Doesn’t it seem odd he could have fooled his family about being married? Doesn’t it seem as if some acquaintance in Ohio would have discussed it with them? Or they would have looked for the obituary in the Budget?” I asked. I know I would have looked for an article in our newspaper.

  Mervin shrugged. “Phillip did say that Don hadn’t told them he’d married until months after his wife died. And then years went by without them hearing from him.”

  “Weird,” I said.

  “Creepy,” Hannah added, a sympathetic look on her face.

  “The girl I talked to said Don had this deceptive way about him. He’d stir up trouble with half-truths. Pit people against each other by claiming they’d told him one thing when they’d said another. And talking about people behind their backs.”

  “I can see that,” Mervin said.

  I could too.

  “Anyway,” Molly said. “It seems he’s brought trouble to more people than just my little sister.” She looked straight at me, her eyes full of compassion.

  Everyone was mostly quiet for the rest of the meal. If Don would lie about having a wife, surely he would lie to me and about me too. I couldn’t help but think it was obvious.

  After the closing prayer, to my relief Leon asked Mervin to go out to the barn with him. As soon as they left, Hannah said, “All the boys believed Don.”

  “Jah,” I said. “I know.” I hurt so badly.

  “I’m sorry,” Hannah said.

  “Denki,” I answered.

  “We all just assumed Don was telling the truth. . . .”

  I turned toward Mamm as my eyes filled with tears. I didn’t want to make a scene in front of Hannah.

  “Come into the s
ewing room,” she whispered to me. “I have something for you.” I followed her, half listening to Molly and Hannah speed ahead to a new topic.

  “So how are things going between you and Mervin?” Molly asked.

  Hannah giggled. I stopped in the hallway.

  “What?” Molly asked. She must have turned the water faucet on because the sound of running water drowned out their voices.

  “Bea?” Mamm waited for me at the doorway to the sewing room. I followed her on in.

  She had stacks of fabric she wanted to show me. “You can take a third of it,” she said. “I want to divide it evenly between you, Edna, and Molly.”

  “Denki,” I said, “but let Molly choose first.”

  She frowned. “I wanted you to have the first choice.”

  I picked through the fabric, pulling remnants from the stacks for a pile for me. “Are you set on going to Montana, then?” I asked.

  “It depends on what you decide to do,” she answered.

  “What are my choices?” I turned toward her, sorry that my voice sounded so hurt.

  “Well,” Mamm said. “I’ve talked this over with Edna and Ivan. They’re in agreement with me. I plan to split the profits from the sale of the farm three ways—between you, Molly, and me.”

  “Mamm,” I said. “Will you have enough?”

  She nodded. “Because I’ll live with one of you.” She smiled. “But the idea is, if you decide to stay in Lancaster, you can buy a house. Or a business. In case—”

  “I never marry?”

  “Something like that,” she said.

  I felt my old defensiveness building, until I thought of the bookstore. It was both a house and a business. But I doubted I could afford it. Still . . .

  Laughter came from the kitchen, and then just Hannah giggling. I could hear them clearly through the sewing room doorway.

  “I really let my hair down that night,” Hannah said.

  “What night?” Molly asked.

  I stepped through the doorway.

  “The night of the singing,” Hannah answered.

  Molly’s voice rose. “Last Sunday night? When Ben accused Bea of stepping out on him?”