Thursday's Bride

by Patricia Johns

  Besides, she missed Sadie.

  That evening, Rosmanda and her mother, Sarah Graber, piled into the buggy with the babies and headed down the road toward the acreage where Sadie and Elijah Fisher lived. The night was warm—spring being much more advanced in Indiana than it was in Pennsylvania—and Rosmanda inhaled the scent of new growth. The sun was setting, and Rosmanda looked toward the pink sky.

  “Rosie, it will be all right,” Mamm said, giving the reins a flick. “I know it will.”

  “Hmm?” She looked over toward her mother, then sighed.

  “You’ve been so sad ever since you got home,” her mother added. “I know that losing Wayne was a big blow. But God will still take care of you, my girl. I promise you that. Life isn’t over.”

  “I know . . .” She sighed. “It’s worse than that, though. It’s Levi.”

  “Wayne’s brother?” Her mother eyed her uncertainly. “I thought he was drinking.”

  “He stopped.” Rosmanda tipped her cheek onto the top of Susanna’s crisp bonnet. “But we were spending more time together. He came back to the family farm to help Stephen, and—”

  This made her look worse—so much worse, and tears welled in her eyes.

  “Did he hurt you?” her mother asked, her voice hushed.

  “Mamm, I fell in love with him,” she said, trying to blink back the tears. “And it’s stupid. I know that! It’s so stupid. He’s not the kind of man I need, and knowing how we are when we’re together, I should have just avoided him.”

  “How you are—” Mamm looked over at her. “I know he was a beau once upon a time . . .”

  “It sparked back up,” Rosmanda said, and she felt her cheeks heat. “And that’s a big reason why I came home. I had to get away from him. I don’t want to be that woman!”

  “He isn’t married or courting, is he?” Mamm asked hesitantly.

  “No!” Rosmanda shot her mother an annoyed look.

  “Then you aren’t that woman!” Sarah said more firmly. “He’s free. So are you. If he’s not the right man for you, then fine. But that doesn’t make you a bad woman.”

  But there were things that Rosmanda wouldn’t confess to even her mother—like those searing kisses, the way her thoughts drained from her head once she got into his arms, and all the things he made her feel . . . Falling in love with him had been her own foolish fault. She’d known better!

  “You’re home,” her mother added, reaching over to touch Rosmanda’s arm. “And I know it will be better. I just feel like you coming home is an answer to prayer.”

  “Yah.” Rosmanda nodded quickly. “Me too.”

  If only getting over this heartbreak could happen a little faster, because while she was home in body, her heart was still back in Pennsylvania.

  When they arrived at Sadie and Elijah’s house, Elijah came out to help them with the horses. They all said hello, shook hands, said how good it was to see each other again. But Rosmanda’s gaze kept moving toward the house. The windows glowed with kerosene light, and Rosmanda felt a rush of hope at seeing her sister again.

  They headed up the side stairs and the door flung open to reveal a group of kinner.

  “Aunt Rosie?” said a little girl who looked about four.

  “Yah! Is that Tabitha?”

  “Yah, it’s me!” Tabitha said with a grin. “Oh, my baby cousins are so cute!”

  Sadie stood behind all of the children, and Rosmanda took her time, handing the babies over to the older girls, and hugging each of the children one at a time. An older boy stood to the side. He was with the other kids, just as eager to see her, but he stood awkwardly, looking uncomfortable.

  “Sammie?” Rosmanda said, straightening up.

  “Hi, Aunt Rosie,” the boy said, but his voice was deep, and she looked at him in surprise. He didn’t look quite old enough for a voice like that, but he must be.

  “My little Sammie is grown up!” Rosmanda said, shooting her sister a look of shock.

  Sadie laughed softly, and after Rosmanda had given the boy a hug, she went to hug her sister, too.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” Sadie whispered, holding her close. “How are you?”

  “I’m doing well.” Rosmanda watched as Sadie’s daughters doted over Susanna and Hannah. Hannah was so surprised by the overflowing attention that she didn’t even try to reach for Rosmanda.

  The kitchen was comfortably warm—a teapot hissing on the stove, and plates of cookies and pie covering the tabletop. It was good to be back with her family again, and she looked around her sister’s home with a wistful smile. She’d imagined what it would be like to come see her sister, sit in her kitchen . . . But the warmth of this home only reminded her of what she was missing in her own life. She was going back to live with her parents again, and she didn’t have a kitchen of her own—not really. She didn’t have a husband to spend her evenings with, to crawl into bed with and put her cold feet against under the quilts....

  “We’re working on a big quilt for out in the sitting room,” Sadie said. “Everyone’s here—” She hesitated, though. “Um, Mary Yoder is here, too.”

  Mary . . . Rosmanda swallowed, her gaze moving toward the doorway that led into the sitting room. Dare she go in? She looked over at Mamm, who gave her a firm nod. Starting strong—that was the plan, right?

  “Did she know I was coming?” Rosmanda asked her sister, keeping her voice low.

  “No . . . I didn’t tell her.” Sadie winced. “Some things are better as a surprise, I think . . . At least I hope.”

  “Come on, then,” Mamm said, pulling a pincushion out of a cloth bag. She’d have all different colors of thread in there, too. Mamm was always prepared on quilting nights. “Let’s go find a place and get to work.”

  Sarah went first into the sitting room, and Rosmanda sent up a quick prayer, then followed. When she walked into the room, at first no one noticed her. The women were bent over their work, chatting quietly with the women sitting next to them. But then one looked up, smiled at Sarah, and then froze at the sight of Rosmanda.

  “My sister is back!” Sadie said, perhaps a little too cheerily. “And we couldn’t be happier to have her home.”

  The group of women seemed to be a shade less happy about Rosmanda’s arrival, because they stared at her in open shock. A couple looked secretly delighted—there were always a few who didn’t mind something more interesting to gossip about. But one pair of gray eyes stared at her with such disgust that Rosmanda nearly took a step back. That was Mary Yoder—sitting beside the quilt, but nursing a baby instead of sewing.

  “Rosmanda—” One of the older women was the first to find her voice. “You look well. Where are the babies?”

  “With their cousins—getting acquainted,” Rosmanda said, but her voice sounded thin in her own ears.

  “My girls have been anxious to get their hands on the twins,” Sadie said, and she put a hand on Rosmanda’s back and thrust her toward the empty chair next to Mary. “Go on, have a seat. We need all the hands we can get, if we’re going to finish this quilt tonight. We’re adding the backing.”

  Mary held a small baby in her arms that she was feeding beneath a white blanket tossed over her shoulder. Rosmanda looked back at her sister, but Sadie wouldn’t make eye contact.

  “Mary,” Rosmanda said with a weak smile. “So good to see you.”

  “What are you doing here?” Mary demanded.

  “Visiting my sister at present,” Rosmanda replied, just in case Mary needed a little reminder of whose home this was. Mary was well within her right to never invite Rosmanda into her own home, but she couldn’t dictate who else Rosmanda visited.

  Mary looked down at the infant in her arms, and the little one made a little grunt as it fed, and Rosmanda sat down at the empty spot.

  “Here, Rosie, a needle,” Mamm said, handing Rosmanda a needle and a spool of white thread.

  “Thanks, Mamm,” she murmured, and set to work threading it, wishing against all hope that she coul
d just sink into the floor. The other women were all looking at her now, and her cheeks blazed with heat. Should she have come? Not that it was much use worrying over that now. She was here—and if she ran off to another room to avoid the women, she’d only make things worse.

  “Ladies, let’s get to work,” Sadie said, her tone sounding like the mother she was. “We can’t do a quilt sale in town without quilts, now can we?”

  The other women dropped their gazes again, and the quiet conversation they’d started up was now a little more eager. They were likely talking about her, Rosmanda realized, and if nothing else, she was providing the group with some gossip tonight.

  “Why are you here?” Mary snapped. She patted the baby’s diapered bottom gently, a strange contrast to the suppressed fury in her gaze.

  “I’ve moved back home to Morinville,” Rosmanda said. “My husband is dead, and—”

  “Yah, I know that. My husband talked about nothing else for months.”

  The implication was clear, and Rosmanda swallowed hard. Jonathan had been telling his wife about Rosmanda’s situation? She turned her lips down in distaste. “Mary, I sent him home.”

  He’d gone home . . . hadn’t he? She eyed Mary uncertainly.

  “Yah. He’s home. But after how long?”

  Was it to be Rosmanda’s fault that Jonathan had stayed in Pennsylvania so long? Was Mary going to take no responsibility for her own marriage? Anger rose up inside of her, but Rosmanda pushed it back.

  “My brother-in-law was the one who talked to him most,” Rosmanda said. “I was busy with my children.”

  “And I was plenty busy with mine.” Mary’s tone dripped disdain. “But Jonathan felt so badly for you—how lonely you were without your man.”

  “Mary, I—”

  “I read your letters,” Mary said tersely. “So before you deny anything, you shouldn’t have been that open with a married man!”

  “Yah, I realize that now . . .” Rosmanda sighed. “But if you read those letters, you also know that I was expressing no interest in your husband. At all. In fact, I didn’t answer the last three letters he sent to me, because I felt that it wouldn’t be right. So I’m not the woman you think.”

  “You’re the woman my husband went to Pennsylvania to check on,” Mary said bitterly. “Leaving me at home with four kinner and a brand-new baby.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Rosmanda said feebly.

  “How about an apology?” Mary said. “It might be a start!”

  And apology for what, though? Rosmanda hadn’t asked him to come! She’d tried to stop him, and she’d not encouraged any of his advances. She’d sent him home to his wife.

  “I have no desire to talk to your husband, or even see him across a room,” Rosmanda hissed, lowering her voice. “He caused enough trouble for me in Pennsylvania! I don’t want to steal him, or flirt with him, or distract him from you in any way, I can assure you. So stop glaring daggers at me. I’m no more responsible for his bad behavior than you are!”

  Mary looked startled at that, and tears welled up in her eyes. She adjusted her dress, put the baby up on her shoulder, and rose to her feet.

  “I’m going to get some tea,” Mary said. Her lips trembled, and she edged around the working women, heading toward the kitchen doorway. Rosmanda watched her go, and she felt a wave of regret.

  No, she hadn’t meant to cause any trouble in the Yoder home, but Mary had been cut deeply by her husband’s emotional desertion. Mary had been the one to have her heart torn out. She’d been the one embarrassed in front of her whole community when her husband didn’t lie about his reason for going to Abundance quite so well as he thought, and Mary was now faced with the woman her husband had been pining for. If Mary had been a bad wife, as Jonathan claimed, then she had certainly paid for that in full.

  Rosmanda was home in Morinville again, and it would take more than a confident reentry to change the community’s mind about her.

  And even with all of this regret stewing inside of her, her heart was aching, too. She and Mary had some heartbreak in common, and maybe they both deserved what they got. Maybe they didn’t. Sometimes a woman paid for her sins for the rest of her life.

  * * *

  Levi put a plate of cold chicken, some cheese, and some crackers down in the center of the table. It was a light lunch—but the best he could scrounge up on his own. Ketura sat at the table, and she looked thin to him. Much like Rosmanda, he realized with a squeeze in his heart. Ketura probably hadn’t been eating well since her break with Aaron, and he nudged the plate toward her.

  “No, I’m not really hungry,” she said.

  “Well, you still have to eat,” Levi replied. “Put some effort into this, or I’m reporting to my mother that you’re losing weight, and she’ll bring the whole community in to feed you.”

  Ketura smiled wanly. “You’re cruel.”

  “I am,” he agreed, but he was gratified to see her take a cracker and a piece of chicken.

  “Your mamm asked me to come today—” Ketura looked around the kitchen.

  “It was a favor for me,” Levi said. “She was going to see you anyway, and . . .” He sighed. “Aunt Ketura, are you all right?”

  “I will be,” she said quietly. Her eyes had rings underneath them, and she looked paler than usual. “But how are you doing, Levi?”

  “I’m—” He hadn’t quite expected his aunt’s direct stare. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re lying,” she said. “You just said good-bye to the woman you love, and it’s killing you.”

  Levi swallowed a lump in his throat. He hadn’t been eating much either the last few days, and when Aaron pleaded with him to speak to his aunt on his behalf, he’d said no at first. He was so tired, so achingly sad . . . But even if he couldn’t have the woman he loved, it didn’t mean that Ketura shouldn’t have her happiness. So he’d agreed.

  Maybe God would look down on this small, well-intentioned deed and reward him by reducing his own pain.

  “Yah,” he agreed. “But there isn’t much else I can do about that. She knows what she needs, and it’s a far sight better than I can give.”

  “No,” Ketura said with a shake of her head. “Rosmanda knows what scares her. That’s what she’s very certain of. She doesn’t know what she needs.”

  “And what does she need?” Levi asked woodenly.

  “The man she loves.” Ketura shrugged weakly.

  “We’re on the same mission, Ketura,” he said with a small smile. “I invited you here to convince you to take Aaron back.”

  There was a rustle by the sitting room door, and he and Ketura both looked over at the same time. Aaron took off his hat, rubbed his hand through his hair, and then replaced it. His gaze was locked on Ketura with a look of agony.

  “I invited Aaron,” Levi said feebly. “I thought you two could talk.”

  “Levi—” Ketura sighed, but Aaron came into the kitchen and pulled up a chair next to Ketura. He put his hand over hers. The words seemed to evaporate, and she stared at him in mute sadness.

  “Don’t blame Levi,” Aaron said. “I begged him to do it. I had to see you. And I was hoping he’d convince you that I was worth seeing.”

  “You came in a little soon for that,” Levi said, and he started to rise to his feet, but his friend waved him back down. Levi eyed them hesitantly. He’d thought they might want some privacy for this, but Aaron seemed to have other plans.

  “I couldn’t wait . . .” Aaron swallowed. “And what I have to say is short. I won’t belabor this too much. Ketura, I love you.”

  “And I love you,” she whispered. “But—”

  “No, I have to say this,” Aaron said, cutting her off. “You said Rosmanda knows very well what she fears, but so do you. You’re afraid I’ll stop loving you as you grow older. You’re afraid I’ll regret some hasty decision to marry you while you’re young enough to look like this—”

  “Yah, I am,” Ketura said with a teary nod.


  “But love and marriage is about trust,” Aaron said. “Because I’m scared, too. I’m scared that when people tease you about your young husband, you’ll lose respect for me.”

  “You’re the best man I know,” she breathed.

  “And I will love you for the whole of our lives. I’ll love you as you age, and I’ll be proud to grow older at your side. But you have to trust me, Ketura. Has my love for you wavered these last three years?”

  She shook her head mutely.

  “Then trust me!” he pleaded. “Trust me to keep on loving you! And I’ll trust you to keep on respecting me.”

  “It’s a risk,” Ketura said, but a smile had come to her face—a different kind of smile, and Aaron seemed to sense his victory.

  “Ketura, let me go to the elders. Let me tell that that we’re engaged and we want to get married. Please.”

  Ketura nodded, and Aaron pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Levi shot his aunt a smile when she looked blearily in his direction.

  “Congratulations,” Levi said. “Now you can eat again, Auntie.”

  Ketura wiped her eyes and reached for Aaron’s hand. “Am I crazy, Levi? Talk me out of this now, if I am.”

  “The best things in life are a risk,” Levi said. “If you’re looking for my blessing, you both have it.”

  Aaron shot him a grin. “Thank you, Levi. I don’t know how I’ll repay you, but I’ll sure try.”

  “Then make my aunt eat,” he said with a low laugh. “She’s getting too thin.”

  Ketura put a piece of chicken into her mouth, and Aaron picked up a piece of cheese and handed it to her, his gaze locked on her lovingly. Levi watched them, Ketura and Aaron suddenly so rosy in their happiness. Levi had seen what being apart was doing to both of them. They were in love, and while the community meant well, sometimes they were wrong. Life would be hard, but love was surprisingly tough.

  “And what about Rosmanda?” Ketura asked, turning toward him.

  “She’s back home with her mamm and daet,” he said.

  “And you still can’t be with her?” Ketura asked. “You, the believer in love?”