Always Close to Home

by Jerry S. Eicher

  A loud “Whoa there!” jerked Nancy’s head up.

  Deacon William and his team of horses were in her driveway.

  “Goot morning,” Deacon William hollered out. “The Lord has given us a beautiful snowstorm.”

  Don’t you know this is my wedding day? Nancy almost hollered back. But of course, Deacon William knew. She had been wrong. The deacon was here to heap coals of fire on her head with his kindness. That was the community’s way with people who were in the bann. She should have remembered that.

  “You have come to help me,” Nancy called out.

  “Yah,” he said warmly. “We’ll have the driveway open in no time.”

  He waved and shook the reins of his team. They blew long streams of steam from their nostrils and laid into the harness. Snow flew as Deacon William made another round. She should go inside and make hot chocolate for the man, but he wouldn’t drink the offered nourishment. Not from her hand. That was also the community’s way. They could give but not take from excommunicated members. So she might as well work on the sidewalk. Deacon William wouldn’t bring his team up this far.

  Nancy shoveled the snow and kept track of Deacon William’s progress. She wanted to thank him when he was done, and she knew he might leave without further conversation if she didn’t catch him in time. On the other hand, if she went out to speak to him, he might embark on a final lecture. He’d feel obligated to reach out one last time before she became Mrs. Charles Wiseman.

  Deacon William finished before Nancy reached the end of the sidewalk. He let the reins hang limp over the homemade snowplow and made his way across the untouched snow. “Let me help with that.” He held out his hand for the shovel.

  Nancy gave him a warm smile. “I can do this much after all that you’ve done. I’m very grateful, Deacon William. Thanks. I didn’t know how I was going to get out in my wedding dress.”

  A cloud crossed Deacon William’s face. “You’d not be reconsidering now, would you, Nancy? The Lord must be mighty disapproving of your choice for Him to send a snowstorm the night before your wedding.”

  Nancy forced a laugh. “That’s because I didn’t marry Charles in December like he wanted to. I had to take a few more weeks to prepare myself properly for the jump into his world.”

  Deacon William’s face fell even further. “That’s a very light-hearted attitude for the awful step you’re taking, Nancy. Once wed to the man you are his frau before the Lord and the church. You can’t come back again, even when you see the error of your ways. And that day will surely come. There’s great wickedness lying out there, Nancy. Only the Lord knows the full extent of man’s evil heart. You’re very innocent, I’m thinking. You’ve been sheltered here all of your life.”

  She wanted to change the subject. “How’s Yost doing?” Argument was useless. They had been over all these points before.

  A slight smile crossed Deacon William’s face. “My cousin came up the other weekend—Sherry Yoder. Yost took her home from the hymn singing, and I’d say they hit things off okay. Might even wed this spring, I’m guessing.”

  “I don’t know her,” Nancy said, looking away. “But I’m glad to hear that Yost has found someone.”

  Deacon William gave Nancy a pointed look. “I didn’t mean to encourage you in your ways, Nancy. But if Yost found someone so quickly, I’m sure the Lord will provide for you—once you’re back in goot terms with the community. I’ll make things as easy for you as I can.”

  “You never give up, do you?” Nancy tried to give him a warm smile, but the pain still shone through. The deacon wasn’t making things easy this morning, but neither would she turn aside from her determination. “I’m not coming back. But thanks for your concern and for clearing my driveway. I’d offer you hot chocolate, but…”

  “Yah, I know.” Deacon William nodded. “It is the way it is. Will you be living here after the wedding?”

  Nancy shook her head. “I’ll be selling…well, Charles will. I’ll sign the farm over to him, and the people can deal with him.”

  Deacon William smiled. “I’ll have to think about that, you know.”

  Nancy returned his smile. “You will, but in the end I’ll be right, as I was with Laura and John.”

  Deacon William’s smile broadened. “You do seem to have a decent touch, Nancy. Thanks for helping out with them.” Then his smile faded again. “Why aren’t you staying, Nancy? Think of all the goot you could have done as Yost’s wife and the mother of his children.”

  “I have done what I was supposed to do,” Nancy said. “Well, almost. I still have one task to do…”

  “You’d best not tell me.”

  Nancy lowered her head. “I suppose so, but now I must get changed. Charles is due any moment. He’s usually early, in fact.”

  “I’ll be going then.” Deacon William tipped his hat, and climbed back on the homemade snowplow. He jiggled the reins and turned the team toward Ward Road. With a wave of his hand he was gone. Nancy finished the last few feet of the sidewalk before she dashed back into the house. She hadn’t hung her coat up in the mudroom before Charles pulled in the driveway and parked beside the barn. She rushed into the bedroom. He would have to wait, but didn’t men often wait for their women?

  Nancy changed while the front door opened and closed. Charles would be on the couch when she came out. A shiver of delight ran all the way through her. Was this how Amish brides felt on their wedding day? She would never know. The tipping point had come and gone while she had been occupied with clearing the snow.

  Nancy opened the bedroom door and stepped out. The dress was simple enough. She had insisted. The white lace was still pronounced and drawn across a similar colored background material. The train stopped at her shoes, but billowed out a foot or so behind her. Charles stood when she stepped out of the bedroom door, a grin filling his face.

  “You are more beautiful than ever,” he whispered, his grin growing into a full smile.

  She wanted to leap into his arms and feel them around her, but she held still instead. He came closer and took her hand. “Come,” he said. “It’s time to go.”

  “It is,” she agreed.

  “No regrets then?” He paused to scrutinize her face.

  “None,” she said, lifting her face to his.

  “Did someone clear your driveway this morning?”

  She nodded. “Deacon William.”

  “I thought…”

  “Let’s not talk about that,” she said. “There’s only us now. You and me.”

  His smile grew broader and his grip on her hand tighter. Charles led her along the path, where he helped her into the car and closed the door. They said little on the drive to Ogdensburg. Snowplows passed them with the traffic thin.

  “The preacher will make it,” Charles said, as if there was doubt. She hadn’t thought about that. Amish buggies weren’t stopped easily by snowstorms, but this was another world.

  “I’m sure he will,” she agreed. “For someone like you.”

  “You mean you,” he said.

  Nancy didn’t respond as they stopped in front of the red brick church. The rounded stained glass windows of the First Baptist Church had little snowdrifts at their bases. The sidewalk was cleared though, and several cars were parked along the street. This was her church now. She’d come here for a women’s Bible study next week. Charles had told her about the planned activity when she asked how she could be involved.

  They walked up the sidewalk and through the doorway beyond the high arch. A few of Charles’s relatives and his daughter, Lisa, were in the front rows. Milton was also there, a big grin on his face. Lisa stood to face them with a bouquet in her hand. A simple one. Everything about the ceremony would be simple. Nancy had insisted on that. The preacher was waiting ahead of them. Charles kept her hand in his until they reached the front.

  The questions were simple too, and there was no sermon. Nancy said yes instead of yah. That effort was also easy. And then she was his frau, and Charles k
issed her right there in front of everyone. Nancy’s face glowed until she appeared redder than the roses in her bouquet, but no one seemed to care. She was Englisha now. She was Mrs. Charles Wiseman, and she loved the man. More than she could say.

  Nancy clung to him on the walk back down the aisle and outside, where Charles helped her into the car. She took his hand again after he climbed in on his side, and she didn’t let go when he accelerated rapidly up State Street. There was the weeklong honeymoon ahead of them, but she was on her way home—her new home where love and happiness lay.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  February’s short days were almost past, with no sign of spring in the air. Lydia told herself that was to be expected. Winter was known for its long, cold grip on the North Country.

  Lester was driving Maud on the way to the youth gathering at Deacon William’s place. Ever since they had left home, Lydia and Laura snuggled warmly under the thick buggy blanket as Lester and Laura chattered nonstop about the planned evening of ice skating.

  “You’ll be hanging on John again tonight,” Lester teased. “When I know goot and well you can skate like an angel.”

  “I’m not an angel,” Laura said. “And John needs me. He’s quite the brave man to venture out on the ice without his sight. That’s a man for you, if you ask me—strong, confident, and so handsome in his dark blue stocking cap.”

  “You should do a few twirls on your own,” Lester insisted. “You’ll lose all your skills before long.”

  “I have all the skills I need,” Laura shot back. “I have John.”

  Lydia smiled, but she didn’t join in. She usually didn’t succumb to the blues, but she was teetering on the edge at the moment—and had for the past few weeks. Laura had been given her miracle, but Lydia’s had not appeared yet. Why was the Lord withholding her miracle? Laura had two miracles now: one when John walked again, and another when Nancy’s pleas through her schoolchildren had brought in tons of money.

  John and Laura would be set for at least a full year, if not longer. Unless, of course, some unforeseen tragedy struck. But Laura’s faith would see them through whatever difficulties lay ahead.

  Even Daett was apparently receiving his miracle. His relationship with Sherry Yoder was in the letter writing phase. Sherry had charmed Daett completely. She had been neither overweight nor sharp-tongued, as they had once joked. Four years had passed, Daett said, since Sherry’s husband had died.

  “Sherry’s been kept single by the Lord to comfort my soul!” Daett declared. Yah, this was Daett’s miracle, for sure. Would Lydia be left out? All signs pointed in that direction. She didn’t have Laura’s boldness to stir the pot and pursue Milton. What else could she do? Milton had offered to date her if she joined him in jumping the fence, but she couldn’t. Milton wouldn’t be persuaded to change his mind. Not with Nancy married to Charles Wiseman. The newlywed couple had set up housekeeping in Ogdensburg. Nancy’s old place was up for sale and would be perfect for Laura and John.

  “John ought to put in a bid for the place,” Daett had told them last night. “I hear Nancy put the deed in her husband’s name. That’s a little fishy, but I don’t think Deacon William will complain if John’s the one who wants to buy.”

  That would be another miracle for her sister, while she was still empty-handed. Had she made a wrong choice somewhere? Maybe she shouldn’t have been so high-minded with Milton and accepted his offer. Nancy had jumped the fence, so why couldn’t she? But that was an awful thought. She shouldn’t even entertain the idea.

  Lydia forced herself to think of more pleasant things. Milton was the easiest subject on hand. He’d be there tonight. He always came to the skating parties at Deacon William’s pond. Milton was a whiz on skates. He was one of the fastest skaters in the community. To watch Milton twirl across the pond, first forward and then backward with equal ease, took her breath away. Milton was everything a girl would want, only she couldn’t have him.

  Lydia stopped herself again. This was a time of temptation. She often had to remind herself of that fact. She was at a low point in her life, where doubt and confusion easily reigned. She must not forget that, and yet she did. One look at Milton’s handsome form out on the ice and she would forget everything but her desire to be his girlfriend and his future…

  Lester’s voice broke into Lydia’s thoughts. “You’re mighty quiet tonight. We’re almost at the pond and you haven’t said a word.”

  “I’m thinking,” she deadpanned.

  Lester laughed. “That must be some awful difficult thinking.”

  “Don’t be hard on her,” Laura chided. “Her heart is mourning right now.”

  Lydia looked away. Laura understood her at least, even if she could do nothing about the situation.

  “I’m sorry,” Lester muttered. “I didn’t know.”

  “It’s nothing,” Lydia said. “You don’t have to feel sorry for me.”

  “Yah, it is something,” Laura said. “Stick up for yourself, Lydia. Milton’s been as bad to you as Nancy was to Daett. I guess heartlessness runs in the family.”

  “No, he’s got a kind heart,” Lydia said in Milton’s defense.

  “He’s kind of a rascal, if you ask me,” added Lester. “So you must have it bad to stick up for him.”

  “She does have it bad,” Laura said before Lydia could speak. “Just don’t rub it in.”

  Lester shrugged. “Okay! Sorry anyways.”

  “You’re a dear,” Lydia said, managing to keep the tremble out of her voice.

  Silence settled in the buggy as Lester pulled back on the reins and turned into the field behind Deacon William’s place. There the woods broke into an open meadow, and the buggy bounced to a stop beside the long line of buggies that had already parked.

  “We’re late,” Lester sputtered as he leaped out to secure Maud. Then, before Lydia’s feet hit the ground, he had his skates out and slung over his shoulder and was on his way to the pond.

  Lydia wrapped her skates around her wrists and trudged along behind her twin.

  “He could have waited for us,” Laura grumbled, slowing down to take Lydia’s hand. Together the two made their way across the rough, snowy ground to the pond, where a bonfire had been lit. Wild flames leaped skyward, casting crazy shadows over the ice.

  Laura glanced over at her unsmiling sister. “Lydia, you have to take courage. The Lord will supply your miracle. He gave me mine, and it looks like Daett got his too. Why wouldn’t you get yours?”

  Because I’m different! The words almost slipped out of Lydia’s mouth.

  Laura seemed to take her silence for consent as they sat down at the edge of the ice to lace up their skates. The forms of the young people mixed in with the shadows from the fire, filling the pond with erratic colors of red and black that danced between heaven and earth. Lydia caught her breath as she looked up from her laces to soak in the sight.

  She would be out on the ice in moments. In the meantime, the anticipation supplied its own delight. Thoughts of Milton did the same. Lydia strained to make out Milton’s form among the shadows with no success. He would be out there. Milton was never late for a skating party.

  Lydia hurried with her laces as Laura stood. “I’m going over to John,” Laura said, and skated toward a group of young people near the bonfire. Lydia had been too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice John among them. But Laura had been right. John was on his feet, and without guidance he made a few slow circles on the ice. He seemed to return safely each time, perhaps guided by the warmth of the fire.

  “John!” Laura called out, her voice filled with joy.

  John stopped midstride and waited. He seemed to sense Laura’s approach and took a few short glides on the ice toward her. Their hands met and lingered before Laura led John farther across the ice. That’s how they would be all evening—together, in love, so in love, and still unable to believe that the Lord had allowed them this happiness.

  Lydia focused on her last skate lace. The string wa
s stuck with a knot formed in the second tier of tie straps. Lydia tugged, but it only made things worse. She raised her head for a long breath and stopped when one of the forms dashed out from the group and skated to an abrupt halt in front of her. Ice chips flew and landed in her lap.

  “Milton!” The exclamation came before she could see his face. Only Milton would make such a daring gesture.

  His laugh was confirmation enough, sending warm shivers up her back.

  “What’s the problem?” he asked.

  She squinted up at him. “Skate lace. I can’t seem to untangle it.”

  He knelt in front of her, one knee on the ice, and the other bent under his stomach. With his swift movements the string gave way and seemed to untangle itself.

  “You’re a marvel,” she said.

  He laughed again. “That’s what I like about you. Come. The evening waxeth old.”

  Lydia joined his laughter as Milton helped her up. She could feel the strength of his fingers through his gloves.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his face wrinkled in concern. “It is a little cold out here. Do you want to move closer to the fire?”

  I want to move closer to you, she almost said, but how inappropriate that would have been. Laura said such things, but she wasn’t Laura.

  “Let’s skate,” she said instead. “I’ll warm up soon enough.”

  He smiled and took both of her hands. “Will you be my partner? They’re getting ready for a couples race. I was waiting for you.”

  Lydia threw her head back and laughed out loud. “I would love that. Yah, I’ll race with you.”

  He didn’t act surprised by her exuberance. She should try such outbursts more often, even if she blushed worse than a ripe tomato in the summer’s heat. But how could she change from what she was? At least Milton seemed himself again, so full of life and fun. Had he changed his mind and planned to stay in the community? Was that why he had sought her out and warmed her heart again?

  “Over here!” a commanding voice called out from the edge of the pond. “Race is starting.”