by Amy Lillard
“Mamm,” she called, “I’m hitching up the buggy and going visiting.”
Her mother came out of the living room carrying a dust rag. “You don’t have to work today?”
Clara Rose had recently started working at Abe Fitch’s furniture store, helping him keep things neat and orderly. Abe was something of a scatterbrain, too interested in wood and his wife, Esther, to care a whole lot about much else. It wasn’t that he was self-absorbed; that wouldn’t have been becoming for an Amish man. He was simply . . . distracted.
“Not until noon. I thought I would stop by and see Obie and then go on into town.”
Her mother gave her a questioning look. “Okay,” she said, the word not matching her expression at all. “If you think that’s a good idea.”
“Why would I not think it was a good idea?” Clara Rose asked. “I came up with it.”
Her mother shook her head and started back into the living room. Clara Rose followed, wanting to hear what her mother had to say and yet not wanting to hear it just as much at the same time.
Nerves. They were making her a little batty. But until she found out exactly what Obie was thinking and reassured him that nothing was going to change between them after the wedding, she didn’t think she could find a way to settle her mind and her thoughts. And until she did that, she wasn’t sure she would ever sleep again. No, this had to be taken care of. And it had to be taken care of now.
“Do you have something on your mind, Mamm?” Clara Rose asked as she followed behind her mother.
Mamm shook her head. “I told myself I was staying out of this.”
“I asked your opinion. Surely you can give me that much.”
Nancy Yutzy dropped her hands to her sides and turned to face her daughter. “Marriage is a wonderful thing, Clara Rose. Perhaps even the most wonderful thing in the entire world, but when it starts off, it can be fragile. I just don’t want any of this problem with Obie to hurt your relationship with Thomas. That’s all.”
“Problem? You think that this is a problem?” She would not have called it that. Then again, she wasn’t sure what she would call it. A situation, perhaps? An issue? But not a problem. Obie was never a problem. He was her best friend.
“Don’t go splitting hairs, daughter. You know what I mean. Sometimes a girl just has to face it. And when she gets married, her husband has to become her best friend. You’re going to be partners in life.” Mamm tossed her dust rag across one shoulder, then clasped Clara Rose’s hands in her own. She squeezed her fingers reassuringly. “Change can be scary. Really scary. But it’ll be worth it in the end.” Her mother smiled, but Clara Rose noted her lips trembled as she spoke. “Of course Obie is going to have a tough time of it right now. Your relationship is going to change, and he’s not sure where he’s going to fit into your life anymore. But if you allow it, his insecurities can ruin the bond you and Thomas are building. I just don’t want to see you let that happen.”
Clara Rose squeezed her mother’s fingers in return, then pulled her hands away. “I would never do that. I love Thomas. And I would do anything to keep him happy and by my side.”
Mamm gave a quick nod. “Good. That’s just the way it should be.”
Clara Rose tried to smile. “I’ll see you after work.” She turned on her heel and left the room, thoughts of Obie and what she would do to keep him happy ringing through her mind.
* * *
The Brenneman farm looked as it always did. A little on the shabby side. But that’s what happened when four bachelor men lived in one place without a woman. They had no need for flowers out front or even the simple, welcoming wreath on the door. There were no pots of ferns or children’s toys, just a small vegetable garden and a pair muck boots sitting crookedly on the porch.
They really needed a woman’s touch around here, Clara Rose thought as she skipped up the steps. She rapped lightly on the door, ignoring the tripping beat of her heart. She was just a little nervous, that was all. Anyone would be when faced with the prospect of losing her best friend just because she was getting married to her other best friend. But somehow, someway, she would make Obie understand that, after she and Thomas were married, nothing would change.
The door opened and Paul Brenneman stood on the other side. “Why, Clara Rose! How good to see you today. Come in. Come in.” He stood back to allow her entrance. “I’ll get Obie. Obie,” he called, the one word ringing loudly in her ears.
“Yeah, Dat?” Obie called from the landing.
“You have a visitor.”
Obie loped down the stairs, stopping halfway when he caught sight of her. Clara Rose ignored the start of her heart as he slowed, then came down at a normal pace. “Clara Rose,” he said.
“Can we talk?” She cast a quick look at his father, then back to him. “Alone?”
Obie gave a jerky nod, then grabbed his hat off the peg on the wall and crammed it on his head. “Take a walk with me?”
Clara Rose gave a small smile in return, then followed him out the door. Without a word, they strolled around the side of the house and toward the backyard and the field on the other side. It was nothing but a hay pasture, now mowed down, and she could see Eileen’s house over in the distance.
“What you want to talk about?”
Clara Rose opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed to get stuck somewhere along the way. “It . . . I mean—” Where did she begin? She had no idea. She took a deep breath and tried again. “I just wanted you to know that you will always be my best friend.” Her mother’s words from earlier floated around in her head, seeking some kind of purchase with the statement she’d just made. But there was none. How could she have two best friends? And how could she choose between Thomas and Obie?
Obie frowned. “I know that.”
She nodded awkwardly and cleared her throat. Why was this so weird? She had never been this uncomfortable with Obie before.
“I just wanted you to hear that from me.”
He flashed her that charming smile that she loved so much. “That’s sweet of you, Clara Rose, but I know that we’re friends.”
She was messing this up, not being clear. “I mean for always. Even after I’m married.”
His eyes dimmed just a bit and his lips pressed together, but he gave her a nod.
The tension left her body in a big whoosh. He understood. “So now you don’t have to worry about me and Thomas, jah?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think you understand.” He let go of her hand. The minute he pulled away, Clara Rose began to fret.
“But I do understand. I do. You’re afraid that you’re going to lose me as your best friend after Thomas and I get married. But I know that’s not going to happen.” Sure, Thomas was a little jealous right now. But once they were married that jealousy would disappear. And everything would settle back into the pattern it had been in last week before all of this happened. Thomas would be her fiancé—or rather, her husband—and Obie would be her best friend. And she would still have that passel of children, the herd of puppies, and all the rest of her dreams that went along with marrying Thomas Lapp.
“He’s not the man for you,” Obie said.
“He is too,” she countered. Obie knew. He had been there when she and Thomas had seen each other for the first time. Thomas and his family had just moved to Oklahoma from Missouri to expand their horse-breeding business, and someone had invited him to their youth group meeting at Millers’ pond. Clara Rose had been laughing at something Obie had said when she’d tripped over a fallen branch. She would have sprawled headlong onto the bank if Thomas hadn’t caught her. That’s when she’d known her prayers had been answered. God had sent Thomas Lapp to her, just as she’d asked.
“He’s not. I don’t know how I know. I just do.”
“He’s a good man,” Clara Rose said, daring Obie to contradict her.
“I know that.”
“He’s a hard worker and will provide for me and our children.”
�
��I know that too.” Obie ground his teeth together so hard she could hear them cracking.
“So what is the problem?”
He turned and looked out over the field. “I don’t know.”
“You can’t just say he’s not the man for me and not have something to go with it, Obie. You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and I trust your judgment. But I can’t defend my decision if you don’t give me something to go on here.”
Obie shook his head. “I don’t know.” He gave a jerky shrug. “I just got this bad feeling, you know?”
“A bad feeling about Thomas Lapp.” He was the best man Clara Rose had ever met, and she considered herself the luckiest girl in the world that he had picked her to be his bride. His family did well for themselves, had a beautiful farm, raised magnificent horses. And they were all-around loving and God-fearing people. There was no bad feeling to have about Thomas Lapp. “You know what? I think you’re scared.”
Obie scoffed. “Me? Scared? Of what?”
“I don’t know.” But she did, and God forgive her the lie. But it sounded so vain and arrogant to say that she believed that he was afraid of losing her friendship when she married Thomas. And she couldn’t say that out loud. Not even to Obie.
“See, that just goes to show that you’re wrong.” His mouth was twisted into a weird angle, and Clara Rose knew that he was struggling not to say more.
“I’ve prayed for so many years that God would bring somebody into my life who would love me, and cherish me, and want to marry me and be with me forever. And He did. He gave me Thomas. I don’t understand why you can’t be happy about that.” She turned on her heel and marched back toward the house. As she walked, she listened intently for sounds that he was following behind her, maybe running up to her to tell her that he was sorry, that he was wrong, and that he knew that she and Thomas were going to be the greatest couple Wells Landing had ever seen.
But he didn’t. When she got to the top of the hill, she turned back to where he stood in the middle of the field that separated his house from his aunt’s. He was just standing there, watching her as she walked away. Even from this distance, she could tell that his eyes were clouded over. His shoulders slumped and his head sagged. But he didn’t come after her. Clara Rose blinked back tears and climbed into her buggy and headed for work.
* * *
“There are none so blind as those who will not see,” Mammi quoted Thursday night as they stitched the new quilt. Of all the different parts of quilt making, this was Clara Rose’s least favorite. Everyone sat in chairs, close to each other but not connected. Everyone had their own quilt square in their lap as they stitched the individual pieces together to form the pattern. Clara Rose much preferred when the quilt top, the batting, and the bottom were all tacked together and stretched across the quilt frame. That’s when the true quilting began. When that happened, they were all connected, all touching the same fabric as they worked in their tight circle.
Clara Rose missed the rest of what her grandmother was talking about as her mind went straight to Obie. He couldn’t see. Did that make him blind? She supposed she couldn’t fault him. He was her best friend, and he was worried that she was making a bad decision. But there was no call for him to worry. Thomas had never done anything improper toward her. He’d never stepped out of line. Except for holding her hand from time to time on the way home from the singings, he had been nothing but a perfect Amish gentleman to her, a fact that made her love him even more.
“Clara Rose? Is something bothering you?”
She started, then whipped around to look at her friend. Tess smiled encouragingly.
“No,” she scoffed. Another lie to add to her growing list to ask forgiveness for. “Why would something be wrong?”
“Well, I called your name three times before you answered.” Tess shrugged.
Clara Rose wilted a bit under her friend’s concern. “No, it’s just a lot, you know.” It was about the vaguest statement she had ever made. But, with the wedding coming up, she figured her friend could fill in all the blanks herself. And that’s exactly what happened.
Tess nodded. “Marriage is a big step.”
Something in her tone took Clara Rose’s thoughts away from her own issues and problems. “Is everything okay with you?”
She had never known Tess to complain about anything. Tess Smiley was sweet and kind, and never had a bad word to say about anything or anyone. She always looked on the bright side and was in general a complete joy to be around. Clara Rose always tried to keep a positive outlook, but that was one thing Tess did with seemingly no extra effort. To see her brown eyes dim and the corners of her mouth turn down had Clara Rose reaching out to her friend.
She patted Tess on the knee. “You can talk to me whenever you need to. You know that, right?”
Tess had recently moved to Wells Landing from the Amish community in Clarita, Oklahoma. It wasn’t so far away, but it was far enough that in order for Tess to visit with her family, she had to get a driver to take her there. Seeing as how she’d lived on a farm right next door to her parents before she’d moved, having that far to travel was a big step.
“It’s fine,” Tess said.
Clara Rose wouldn’t be the only one asking forgiveness for lies at night. She took her friend’s fib to mean that she didn’t want to talk about it.
“Just know that marriage is a big step,” Tess said. “And you have to be sure. Are you one hundred percent sure, Clara Rose?”
“Of course I am,” Clara Rose said. She looked up to find that all eyes were on the two of them. When had the conversation across the room stopped, and exactly when had it centered on her and Tess?
Her grandmother nodded. “Marriage is a big step. I don’t have to tell you it’s forever. Or until death.”
“Do men sit around talking like this?” Clara Rose gave an uncomfortable laugh. It was a very poor attempt at changing the subject, but the tension in the room was starting to eat away at the air, leaving her breathless and wheezing.
Eileen picked up her quilt square and began to stitch once again. “It’s different for men,” she said, not bothering to look up as she worked.
“How so?” Fannie asked.
“I don’t know,” Eileen said. “It just is.”
Clara Rose glanced around the room, realizing for the first time the differences in the women seated there. And for once she was glad that Helen Ebersol and Emily Riehl weren’t in attendance. Emily was such a good friend, and Helen was the bishop’s wife. It just didn’t seem like a conversation she wanted to have in front of them. But these ladies . . .
Fannie had never been married and most likely would never marry, and Tess had recently gotten married and moved away from her family. Eileen was married with no children, and Mariana’s husband was terminally ill. Then there was Clara Rose herself and her widowed grandmother. Each one of them had a different take on marriage; each one of them had something different to bring to the conversation. How was she supposed to sort through all that?
Prayer.
It was the only answer she had. And pray she would. For understanding, for peace, for knowing that she was making the right decision. She had prayed her entire life for a husband to love her, care for her, and help her raise children and tomatoes. God had sent her Thomas Lapp. For that, she would be forever grateful to Him. She knew Thomas was the one for her, so why was she having so many second thoughts?
Thankfully the subject dropped between them, and Clara Rose breathed a sigh of relief. They stitched for another twenty minutes or so and put away their quilt squares in order to fill their plates.
It took them nearly two months, meeting once a week, to make a quilt. But Clara Rose supposed that they could do it in half that time if they spent more time quilting and less time eating. But she had to admit that the eating was almost her favorite part. Everyone brought such delicious food—old favorites, new recipes, and something that Eileen liked to call copycats. It seemed
that was when you took a recipe from a restaurant and tried to make it at home.
Clara Rose piled her plate high with seasoned pretzels, a new recipe for divinity that Mariana had been trying out for Christmas, and little chicken nugget sandwiches no bigger than half dollars.
Before she could make it back to her seat, the front door slammed. Clara Rose whirled around to find Obie coming in.
“Nephew!” Eileen said. “Funny how you always show up when it’s time to eat.”
Obie turned a shade of pink that made his eyes seemed even greener. He shot his aunt a sheepish grin that bore traces of apology. “It’s merely a coincidence, Auntie,” he said. “I came to see if I can give Clara Rose a ride home.”
It was as if a spell of silence had fallen over the room. The women all stopped talking and eating, and everyone turned to look at her. Such a statement usually meant a couple would be going out together, and most always once a couple started dating they ended up married. But Clara Rose was already engaged. To someone else.
“I mean . . .” Obie’s color deepened to a truly embarrassed red. “I just thought . . .” He shook his head. “Never mind.” He turned on his heel and found his exit as quickly as he had entered.
“I’ll just go . . .” Clara Rose started. She didn’t allow herself time to finish as she hurried out the door after Obie.
She found him easily enough. He hadn’t gone far. His aunt had an old porch swing hung on the branch of a large oak just to the side of the house. Obie had found his way there and was now using the heels of his walking shoes to push himself into motion.
Clara Rose slowed her steps and made her way over to him. He didn’t bother to look up as she sat down next to him. She offered him a bite off her plate, and he shook his head, then reached out a snatched the piece of fluffy white divinity.
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
Clara Rose laughed. “No, I don’t. Yeah, well, maybe a little. But I know you care about me and that’s where all this is coming from. That means more to me than anything else.”
He nodded and swallowed hard, then finally raised his eyes to hers. “I wish I knew what it was. I wish I knew where this bad feeling was coming from. Maybe then you would take my advice. You could see why I don’t think that he is right for you.”
