Jeb's Wife

by Patricia Johns

  * * *

  Thursday morning, Leah stood in Rosmanda’s daughters’ bedroom on the second floor of the Lapp farmhouse. Rosmanda’s in-laws were bustling downstairs, giving orders to arriving guests and helpers alike, and Leah could hear their voices through the floor.

  The small bedroom had two slender beds on opposite sides of the room with a white-painted dresser between them. There were wooden boxes of books and toys that had been pushed out of the way to make room for her, although she had nothing left to do to get ready for the wedding but wait. She’d finished her blue wedding dress last night, and Rosmanda had provided a fresh, white apron and kapp for her, made by Rosmanda’s mother-in-law. So, Leah stood by the window watching the process of guests arriving and buggies being parked in the nearest field like they did on a Service Sunday.

  This was her wedding day, and her stomach was knotted in nervousness.

  Behind the house on a stretch of lawn, the church benches had been set up for the service. Leah couldn’t see them from her vantage point, but Rosmanda had told her the plan. It was a rushed wedding—not everyone would be staying for the meal afterward, and the games. Jeb’s family—his cousins and aunts and uncles—would stay, as would Leah’s brother and her particular friends with their husbands and kinner. All in all, only about forty people would be eating after the wedding, but even that small a crowd would be a lot of work.

  Leah plucked at a loose thread at her side—she’d missed one, it seemed. She wrapped it around her fingertip and looked around for some scissors. She didn’t see any, and she released the thread.

  Another few buggies arrived one after another. The first one stopped in front of the house, and Rebecca Schrock carefully climbed down. Her movements were cautious and slow, making up for a swelling belly that Leah could clearly see from above. Rosmanda had been right about her snug-fitting clothing, and the sight of the younger woman’s rounded figure was like a vice around her ribcage. Rebecca waved, and her voice could be heard floating through the air, calling a hello to Rosmanda.

  Leah forced herself to inhale and she tried to calm the beating of her heart.

  There she was—Matthew’s preference, and the mother of his first child.

  Tears misted her eyes, and Leah blinked them back. When she’d imagined her wedding day, it hadn’t been like this . . . and in her fondest dreams, the man she was joined to was Matthew Schrock, not some older man disfigured by scars.

  The buggy moved on, circling toward the field where Matthew would unhitch the horses and let them graze, and Leah’s gaze followed that gray buggy, her heart tugging toward it.

  Oh, Matthew . . .

  Leah pressed her lips together, then stepped back away from the window. Why had he come? Why not stay away and let her have her wedding day without her ex-fiancé there to ruin it? But then, maybe this was for the best—let him see her properly married. She’d been teaching in Rimstone when he married Rebecca, and she’d stayed away. He should be doing the same ... or maybe not. They were all part of the same community, and they had to find a way to work together. She couldn’t avoid Matthew and Rebecca forever. Besides, everyone ended up related to one another somehow through the community’s complicated web of marriages. That was how a community stayed united—not taking things too far in dating, and if it didn’t work out, then forgetting and moving on.

  Was it wrong, then, that she hoped that somewhere deep in Matthew’s heart, watching her take vows with another man would draw a little blood for him?

  The bedroom door opened, and Leah quickly wiped her eyes and turned to see Rosmanda come inside. Rosmanda stood with her hand on her belly, her dress properly let out so as not to draw undue attention to her figure. Her face was rounder with her pregnancy, though, and she had little beads of sweat along her hairline. She blew out a long breath, then looked Leah up and down, stopping as she saw Leah’s face.

  “Are you all right?” Rosmanda asked, frowning.

  “Yah. Fine.” Leah forced a smile.

  “Oh . . . you saw him,” Rosmanda said.

  “I couldn’t see him from up here,” Leah said. “I saw her.”

  They didn’t need to use names. They both knew who they were talking about.

  Rosmanda shrugged tiredly. “You’re getting married, Leah. You’re moving on, too. Don’t let him ruin this day for you.”

  Because Rosmanda believed that this was a real marriage. She might not be fooled into thinking Leah had fallen in love with the older man, but she did believe they’d share everything and grow to love each other.

  “I wish he would have stayed away,” Leah said.

  “Well, he came.” Rosmanda dabbed at her forehead with a handkerchief. “For what it’s worth, he wishes you well. He and Rebecca are giving you some canning jars—the good kind. Four whole cases.”

  “Yah, very kind,” Leah said. “I’m sure he means well.”

  “Let Jeb see you happy and with eyes only for him,” Rosmanda said. “That’s my advice. This is your wedding day, and you don’t want to mar it with hard feelings. You’ll look back on today, and you’ll want to remember it well.”

  “I’m fine,” Leah said. Her gaze drifted toward the window once more, and she saw Matthew striding back toward the yard. His shirtsleeves were rolled up his forearms, revealing his deep tan. He waved and smiled, teeth flashing, as someone greeted him. He didn’t look up toward the window. Leah turned back to her friend, lifted her arm. “I have a stray thread here—”

  Rosmanda went to the closet and came back with a pair of scissors. She trimmed the thread, then stood back to look her over once more.

  “You look lovely, Leah,” she said. “I’m so happy you’re doing this.”

  Leah looked into her friend’s face, and for a moment, she was tempted to unburden herself of the truth. In a way it would feel good to say it out loud—that this marriage wasn’t what anyone thought! She was doing this for her brother. But a confession, while good for the soul, wouldn’t give her the respect in the community that she wanted so badly.

  “Is Jeb down there?” she asked instead.

  Had he changed his mind about this? She wasn’t sure if she’d be relieved or mortified if he did ... to be cast aside twice—it would be almost too much to bear, even if this marriage wasn’t one of love and romance.

  “Yah, Jeb is outside with the bishop and his brother-in-law. He’s been pacing around all nervously,” Rosmanda replied with a low laugh. “I’ve been watching him the last few minutes from the kitchen window.”

  “Rosmanda, is this a mistake?” Leah asked.

  “A mistake?” Her friend shook her head. “You said you cared for him, and he wants to marry you, and—”

  “You said you wanted to warn Rebecca, but it wasn’t your place. Well, it is your place now, and I want you to speak plainly,” Leah said. “If you were me, if you were in my shoes, would you marry Jeb King?”

  “What does it matter what other people say?” Rosmanda asked. “When you care for a man, you care for him. You’ll grow into loving him. I know it. Rebecca was young, marrying a man who clearly loved another and then callously tossed her aside. There would be emotional baggage there that she couldn’t even begin to fathom. For you . . . you’re no young thing. You know what you’re doing. You know what this means.”

  Except Leah wasn’t sure that she actually did know what she was doing, and that was the problem. But she didn’t feel like she had any other choice either.

  “Am I missing out on some harbinger of heartbreak?” Leah pressed. “Something I haven’t anticipated yet?”

  “Look at my husband—several well-meaning family members warned me off him, you know.”

  “Are you warning me, then?” Leah pressed. Because she knew the reasons why she didn’t want to marry the man—and they were plentiful. But were there worse things than an older hermit she felt nothing for? At least he wouldn’t be pressuring her for intimacies she didn’t want to give.

  Rosmanda was silent for a mo
ment, then she shook her head. “I’m happy for you. Love is terrifying. I know that better than most. But it’s worth it.”

  Love might be all those things, but Leah wasn’t a woman in love. Still, unless she wanted to unveil all her secrets, she wasn’t going to get any useful advice.

  There was a tap on the door, and Leah clamped her mouth shut, wondering if they’d been overheard.

  “Come in,” Rosmanda called with forced cheeriness.

  The door opened and Simon appeared in the doorway. He wore his Sunday best—a pair of black pants and a fresh, white, short-sleeved shirt. His hat sat straight across his forehead, but the bruises on his face were a mottled green color. He smiled at Leah hesitantly.

  “You still up for this?” Simon asked.

  Rosmanda and Simon both looked at Leah, as if both wanted an answer to that. Was she ready to do this? No! Every part of her wanted to run away from this marriage, but if she did, her brother would be the one to pay, and she couldn’t let that happen.

  “I’m ready to get married,” she said, and she met her brother’s gaze solemnly. He nodded, and she saw the gratefulness in Simon’s eyes.

  He’d not only gotten himself into a heap of trouble, but rescuing him would leave consequences lasting a lifetime. And there was no one else on this planet who would be willing to take such a leap for him.

  “Let’s go, then,” Rosmanda said, and Leah sucked in a shaky breath.

  Jeb King might not be her first choice in a husband, but this wedding would help them both.

  It was time to let her romantic hopes go and embrace the practical. It was all she had left.

  * * *

  The day was hotter than usual—or maybe it was just Jeb’s new clothes that seemed to seal in the heat. His hip ached, as did his leg. When he stood for long periods of time without stretching, this was how it got. The new black shirt felt itchy around the neck, and the black hat, also new, was just a smidge too loose and he felt like the wind would take it away.

  He never had been comfortable in crowds, or in formal clothing. He hadn’t been around this many people since his first wedding, and it made him feel like he wanted to sink into the ground. He wasn’t used to society anymore. He didn’t trust them.

  Jeb knew that his neighbors weren’t here to celebrate with him exactly. They were here to see the wedding they’d all be talking about for the next year, and not because of the size of the event either. This was a small affair. They’d be talking about the strange hermit who married the old maid and inherited a farm as a result.

  Menno hadn’t come. Jeb had been looking for him since he’d arrived, wondering if his cousin would bother attending. Was Menno that angry about the farm? Probably, and a wriggle of guilt wormed up inside him. Peter could leave the farm to anyone he chose, but an only son tended to have a few expectations along those lines, and with this wedding, Jeb was taking the land.

  “You look good,” Isaiah said, and Jeb startled as his brother-in-law seemed to materialize beside him. Isaiah was Jeb’s older sister Lynita’s husband.

  “Yah?” Jeb heaved a sigh. “Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to look so grim,” Isaiah said with a low laugh. “You’re getting married. Look the part.”

  “I’m happy. Just nervous,” Jeb assured his brother-in-law.

  “Marriage is a blessing,” Isaiah said, lowering his voice. “You didn’t get to experience that before, but it is. Look at Lynita and me. You’ll have the happiness now. I’m sure of it.”

  Jeb glanced at Isaiah. “And I’ll start out with a farm.”

  Isaiah’s lips twitched up into a rueful smile. “You’re allowed more than one blessing, Jeb.”

  Jeb couldn’t help smiling at Isaiah’s humor. “I know. It’s just ... it will be easier this time. We’ll be comfortable. That’s all I meant.”

  “Yah.” Isaiah patted his shoulder. “Definitely.”

  But there was a certain look in Isaiah’s eye that Jeb didn’t like. It was a little too close to pity. How much did his brother-in-law suspect? Because when he’d told his sister about his plans to wed, he hadn’t told her the whole truth. He’d just said that it might be quick, but he and Leah were certain of their decision. He’d hoped that was close enough to the truth without outright lying to her. Maybe they’d seen through him.

  The benches were all set up on the stretch of grass behind the Lapp farmhouse. Tall, rustling trees threw welcome shade. The women milled next to their side of the benches. Jeb’s instinct was to move toward a back bench, but today was about him, and he wouldn’t have any easy escape from public view.

  With only a few days to prepare, this wedding didn’t have the usual trappings—he didn’t have any friends standing with him in matching black shirts, for example. But he did have Lynita, who was helping in the kitchen, Isaiah standing guard, and their kinner, the youngest of whom was thirteen already, milling about. Even if he didn’t make enough effort to see them, they’d made the effort for him today, and he was deeply grateful for that.

  Jeb’s first wedding was tense and hopeful. This wedding was tense, but realistic. And just like last time, he was about to be united to a beautiful woman who had no real desire to marry him.

  Jeb looked past the milling guests toward the house just in time to see Leah and Rosmanda come outside with Simon behind. Leah was pale, and her gaze flickered over the crowd of neighbors before landing on him. Jeb smiled hesitantly. She didn’t smile back, but she did meet his gaze and hold it. They were in this together, if nothing else.

  The guests moved toward the benches to take their seats, and Jeb allowed Isaiah to nudge him toward the center of the benches between the women’s side and the men’s, where an opening had been left for the main event—the ceremony. Rosmanda led Leah to the same spot. Two high-backed chairs sat side by side, and Jeb waited until Leah smoothed her dress behind her and sat. Then he took the chair next to her. Sitting was a relief to his aching hip, and he straightened out his scarred leg to get more comfortable.

  There would be an hour and a half of sermons before they took their vows together, then at least another hour of preaching, if not more, afterward. Jeb looked over at Leah, his gaze moving over the details of her new blue dress, a starched apron with one stray thread, and her pale hands clasped in a white-knuckled grip on her lap.

  “Hello,” he whispered, hoping to break some of that tension.

  Leah looked over at him, and she smiled hesitantly. “This is it.”

  “Yah. You look very nice.”

  She seemed to notice the stray thread just then because she reached down and tried to tug it free, then folded it carefully out of sight.

  “It’ll be all right,” he added.

  “You sure?” she whispered.

  “I promise.” He caught her gaze and held it. “I’ll be good to you, Leah.”

  Some color touched her cheeks then, and he was relieved to see it. He was serious, too. He wouldn’t argue with her. He wouldn’t make demands. He’d give her her own bedroom and a respectful distance.

  “And the money for Simon?” she breathed, her words so quiet, he almost didn’t catch them.

  “Tomorrow morning I’ll bring our wedding license to the lawyer. I won’t waste any time.”

  “Thank you . . .”

  In the moment, it was easy to forget that this was all about money, but it was, and the fact sobered him.

  “Leah—” His mouth felt dry now, and when she raised his gaze to meet his again, he deeply hoped this wasn’t another mistake. He didn’t know what he was looking for—reassurance, maybe? Because he was scared, too.

  He didn’t have a chance to say anything more, because Bishop Yoder joined them at the front. And maybe it was for the best, because Jeb had nothing left to say, just some fleeting desire to connect with her on a human level—to see something in her deep brown eyes besides wariness and determination to see this through. The bishop opened a hymn book and began to sing the first few lines of a familiar
hymn. The congregation joined in, and as the voices rose up in harmony around him, Jeb adjusted his position slightly, looking for some comfort for his aching hip.

  Jeb didn’t sing, and when he stole a look at Leah, he found her mouthing the words, but no sound came out of her.

  This was their wedding.

  Lord, he prayed. Are You able to bless this?

  Because everyone knew that God didn’t bless lies.

  * * *

  The sermons commenced, and they were lengthy and filled with biblical confirmation that a marriage was a holy union, not to be entered upon lightly or without due prayer and solemnity. Two different preachers stood up to speak, and between them there was more singing. After the last preacher spoke, the bishop rose and everyone fell silent.

  This was the moment.

  “Please stand, Jebadiah and Leah,” Bishop Yoder said.

  Jeb rose to his feet, but it wasn’t a graceful movement. He winced as he got his leg underneath him again, and his damaged tendons screamed against the sudden change in position. Leah stood, too, and a warm breeze swept around them, carrying the scent of wildflowers and hay. Overhead birds twittered, and from the house he could smell the aroma of food cooking. For just a moment, if he shut his eyes, he could imagine that they were alone with the bishop, alone with the birds and the flowers and the softly scented breeze.

  “Jebadiah,” Bishop Yoder intoned. “Do you take Leah Riehl as your wife? Do you promise to stand by her and protect her, to provide for her and the children you will have together . . .”

  Jeb glanced at Leah at those words—there would be no children, and he saw her tense. No one had told the bishop, it seemed. Or the bishop had simply forgotten.

  “. . . do you promise to love Leah until death parts you?”