A Wedding for Julia

by Vannetta Chapman

  Sharon walked into the room and sat on her side of the bed. The room was Plain, like her room back home. There was the single dresser, with the one emptied drawer. Six hooks had been installed on the wall next to the dresser. Someone had cleared off three of the hooks so she would have a place to hang her clothes. The only other furniture was a nightstand near Ada’s side of the bed and one straight-back chair.

  Sharon’s side was across the room from the window. When she looked out, she could see the entire property, not that she cared to. It didn’t matter what was outside her window. All that mattered was that she find a way home.

  How had she ended up here? How would she endure it? And how long would she be in exile? She didn’t even know these people!

  It was obvious why Caleb had married Julia. She was a beautiful woman, even if she was older. Why the short courting period, though? And this house. It was huge, but they were forced to live in the upstairs rooms? None of it made any sense, which pretty much matched her life back home. All that had changed was the scene outside the window. She’d gone from a remote small town she was familiar with to a remote small town that was completely foreign.

  Her mind flashed back to her dreams of the past summer—dreams of going to the city, of going away. Now all she wanted was to be back in Indiana.

  She hated Wisconsin. She didn’t know a thing about it, and she didn’t want to learn.

  What was with all the hills and forests? Why should she care?

  She wanted to lie down on the bed and cover up her head, but it wasn’t hers to lie down on.

  It was hers and Ada’s, and something told her the old woman wouldn’t approve of her slipping into bed before dinner.

  So she hung her three dresses on the hooks someone had cleared for her, stored her under things in the dresser drawer Julia had left open, and trudged down the hall to the bathroom. There was a small mirror hanging above the sink, but she purposely avoided glancing into it.

  Why look? What difference did it make?

  Instead, she splashed a little water on her face, washed her hands, and dried off with the towel draped over the hook on the wall. Making her way down the stairs, she stopped in the front room, which was full of tables.

  Where were they supposed to eat? There were three large tables and two small ones—none of which had dishes or food on them.

  Then she heard the sound of voices.

  Sharon stared down at the floor. She would have prayed for strength, but she didn’t believe God was listening. So instead she counted to ten, which was her new deal with herself. When she was overwhelmed and had to do something, she gave herself ten counts before she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. It wasn’t a great coping mechanism, but it was something. It was enough to get her feet moving toward Julia and Caleb and Ada.

  “Sharon, you found us.” Julia stood at the kitchen counter, ladling soup into bowls.

  The kitchen was not what she had expected. There was one traditional gas stove, much like what Sharon’s mother cooked on—except this one has six burners instead of four. Next to that was a double oven. She assumed it was gas as well because there was no electricity to the house. Julia and Caleb could have asked their bishop for an exemption. Plenty of home businesses in Indiana were granted one. She supposed, because they had opted to run the café inside their home rather than in an adjacent building, they had decided against it.

  There were also two large refrigerators on the adjacent wall.

  Julia caught her staring and explained, “Both are new and both are gas.”

  “Can’t have my fraa running back and forth to the icehouse at the same time she’s cooking for customers.” Caleb laughed. “It must look pretty strange to you, but we decided to trust that the Lord will bring enough customers to pay for our investment.”

  How much had they spent on this café, which had yet to open for business? On the far side of the kitchen was a smaller dining area, which was apparently where they were to take their meals.

  Sharon sat down beside Ada. It seemed they were to be paired with each other. Caleb stood to help Julia with the tray of soup bowls. The tender look that passed between them hurt more than if Ada had picked up one of the butter knives and plunged it into Sharon’s ribs.

  It wasn’t that it reminded her of James—not at all. It reminded her of what she no longer believed in.

  Once Julia and Caleb sat, they all bowed their heads, but Sharon didn’t pray. She had stopped praying while she waited in the rain on that desolate Monroe county road. Praying was for people who still had some belief.

  She waited.

  When she heard movement, she looked up. Caleb was reaching for fresh cornbread, Julia was passing the butter, and Ada was smiling.

  “Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good.”

  At least that one made sense.

  Ada dipped her spoon into her potato soup, swallowed, and nodded toward Julia. “My dochder is an excellent cook. By this time next week, her café will be full of Englischers asking for her recipes and promising to return with their freinden and family.”

  “From your lips to Gotte’s ears, mamm.”

  “Ya, already He has heard. Just make sure Caleb has brought up plenty of potatoes from the basement.”

  “The potato bin is full. It was on Julia’s list, and so it’s done.” He stuffed cornbread in his mouth as he teased his wife.

  Sharon pushed her spoon back and forth in her soup bowl. She’d found at home, at first, that no one noticed she wasn’t eating if she stirred her food or moved it around her plate. Somehow she thought that might be more difficult to get away with here with just the four of them sitting around a table.

  “Is there something wrong with your bowl of soup?” Ada asked.

  Sharon shook her head.

  “Spoon broke?” Ada persisted.

  “Mamm, maybe Sharon’s merely tired.”

  “Too tired to eat? Humph. Food strengthens a body. Look at me.” Ada lifted both of her hands into the air. “Old maybe, but I’m as healthy as you and Caleb are!”

  When no one challenged her statement, she added, “My hands might ache at times. I might even use that cane Doc insisted I bring home, but the rest of me—both inside and out—is still as healthy as ever.”

  Somehow Sharon doubted that statement, but she wasn’t going to question it. Instead of looking directly at Ada, she stared down into her bowl. She was grateful Julia had let her off the hook, though she noticed Caleb was sending her worried glances.

  She could have asked to be excused, could have probably gone to bed early, but she didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself than necessary. The last thing she needed was for her cousin to write home to her parents and say there had been a problem. In spite of the terrible scene at the bus station, she was hoping they would let her return soon.

  So she waited out dinnertime as she pretended to nibble a piece of cornbread. The conversation hummed and buzzed around her. They spoke of details about what was left to do, talked of their neighbors’ help—some Englischers they had become close friends with—and discussed Aaron and Lydia, who were apparently expecting their first baby. The words flowed over and around her until finally Caleb stood and stretched.

  “Suppose I’ll go and check on the animals one last time.”

  “You’re not sneaking down to the river, are you?”

  “In this weather? Nein.” He ran his hand down Julia’s arm.

  Sharon noticed they did that—touched each other a lot. When they saw her watching, she glanced away.

  “Come spring, you might be able to catch me sneaking out for an evening of fishing, but not tonight.” Caleb pulled his hat and coat from the peg in the mudroom, which was just a few feet from where they ate. “Be back soon.”

  Julia began carrying dishes into the kitchen, and Ada stood as if she were going to help her. That was the first time Sharon really looked at her. She wore small glasses, and her blue eyes sparkled behind them.
She seemed to have a clear mind at the moment, but Sharon had been certain while they were in the buggy that she’d been disoriented. Perhaps she became confused when she was away from home.

  Ada’s hair was snow-white, and her skin was as wrinkled as a piece of paper that had been wadded into a ball and then smoothed back out. It reminded Sharon of the note she had attempted to write to her mother while on the long bus ride. In the end she had torn it from her tablet, wadded it up, and placed it in her purse to throw away. But in her room, before dinner, she’d smoothed it back out, carefully folded it, and placed it in the back of her Bible.

  She tried not to stare at the condition of Ada’s hands. They were curved as if she were holding a ball in each one, only Sharon didn’t think it was something she could help. She didn’t think Ada could straighten her hands.

  “I’ll take those,” she whispered, picking up Ada’s dishes as well as her own. She followed Julia into the kitchen, but not before she glanced back over her shoulder. Ada had moved to sit in her rocker in a corner of the room, pulled her Bible into her lap, and was slowly searching through the Scriptures.

  Cleaning the dishes did not take long with the two of them working together. It didn’t take long enough. Sharon’s habit at home had been to tend to kitchen duties alone. She would stall, soaking her hands in the soapy dishwater until her skin resembled prunes and the water grew cold. After all of the dishes were washed, dried, and stacked in the cabinets—and they had a lot of dishes for nine people—she would begin to clean the counters, the stove, the table, and sometimes even the floor. She would do whatever was necessary to wait out the rest of the household. Eventually silence would settle around her, and she would know that everyone else was in bed. At that point it was safe for her to sit at the table, or stand by the window, or sometimes walk out to the barn. She would do anything to stay awake.

  None of that was going to work with only four people eating the evening meal and Julia helping with the cleanup. They were finished before Caleb was back from the barn, and they all trudged upstairs together.

  They passed an hour in the sitting room, where Sharon pretended to read, Julia worked on her lists, Ada again studied her Bible, and Caleb read the Budget. When the clock on the wall ticked over to nine, Ada stood and moved off to bed.

  “I’m sure you’re exhausted,” Julia said. “You haven’t turned a page in the last half hour, and we’re probably keeping you awake. Is there anything else you need tonight?”

  “Nein.”

  Panic clawed at Sharon’s throat. She hadn’t realized how easy it was to hide within a large family. Now what? She couldn’t explain her fears to this woman she’d just met. She couldn’t explain them to anyone. If someone had asked, she couldn’t have said why she couldn’t sleep, why the mere thought made her stomach pitch and turn. She couldn’t explain it to herself. So instead she dutifully followed Ada to their room, changed her clothes, and crawled into the bed.

  Which was exactly where she had longed to be two hours earlier. Except it was safe to lie down and hide in the daylight. She was able to stay awake then. Nighttime was a different matter. At night she had to fight to keep her eyes from closing.

  And this evening was worse than most.

  She’d been awake since four a.m., preparing for her trip. The parting with her mother had been emotional, and she had to push those memories away as she blinked, staring into the darkness. Ada’s soft breathing beside her was a rhythmic lull, pulling her down, and then there was the scent of the freshly laundered sheets. Unable to resist, Sharon felt herself drifting deeper into the abyss she feared the most.

  The rain continued to fall in sheets. Sharon didn’t need to look down to know the Englisch clothes she wore were thoroughly soaked. She stood shivering beneath the streetlight. Joana had answered the phone. Her best friend had promised to send help. She had told Sharon to wait exactly where she was near the crossroads signal.

  Thunder cracked more loudly than a hunting rifle, causing Sharon to jump and glance around. Had lightning hit something? Would it strike near her next?

  Maybe she should move away from the streetlight, but Joana had told her to wait there. When she tried to check her phone again, it wouldn’t even turn on. She should have checked to see if James had a car charger, but then James was the problem. She should have never left with him.

  So many decisions to regret.

  A car’s lights slashed through the darkness.

  Hope surged through her, but even as she stepped out onto the road, Sharon knew it could not be her father. She’d placed the call only ten minutes ago. There hadn’t been enough time for Joana to reach him and for him to find a ride. She stepped back to the shoulder, but it was too late. The car slowed and then it stopped.

  One middle-aged man was driving the large black car and another younger man was riding in the passenger seat. He rolled down his window and shouted for her to get in. Sharon shook her head and stepped back off the road, praying they would drive on.

  The rider, who she now saw had a scar on the right side of his face, opened the door, stepped out into the rain, and motioned for her to get in the car. Sharon moved even farther into the field. Her shoes slipped in the mud as she backed away from the strangers. The man with the scar turned and said something to the person driving. She didn’t hear what it was, but somehow she knew what he was going to do when he turned back toward her.

  She had been considering running down the road, but she knew instinctively he would catch her there. So instead she reversed directions and ran into the field at the same moment he lurched for her, his fingers trailing down her bare arm.

  Sharon stumbled through the field, through the darkness, zigzagging through the remains of the farmer’s crops. She heard him at first, following her, cursing, slipping in the mud. Then all she heard was the rain, the thunder, and the thudding of her heart.

  But still she didn’t stop.

  Running blindly in the darkness, she didn’t realize he was standing in her path until she ran into him. Somehow he had circled around and found a way in front of her. Too late she tried to change directions. This time her feet slipped in the mud and she fell, hard, against the muddy ground. He caught her then, and his hands closed around her arms in a viselike grip.

  Sharon struggled and kicked and fought to free herself, but she was no match for his strength. It was then she began to scream…

  She woke curled in a tight ball, her hands covering her face and the sound of whimpering filling her ears. Soon enough she realized she was making the childish sounds.

  She’d had the dream again. He’d caught her again.

  She lay in the bed, willing her heart rate to slow and reminding herself it hadn’t happened…at least the last few moments of the dream hadn’t happened that way. The man with the scar had never caught her. She had run until she was so lost no one could have found her, which was part of the problem. It had taken her father and the Englisch driver hours of searching back and forth across the surrounding roads to locate her.

  As she reached to wipe the tears from her face, she realized she wasn’t alone. She remembered she was in Caleb and Julia’s house, and she recognized the voice speaking.

  Opening her eyes, she saw that Ada had awakened and pulled the single chair in the room closer to the bed. Her hands were on Sharon’s hair, gently touching the crown of her head, and her words, as soft as the sheet on her skin, were a balm.

  “The Lord is your shepherd, Sharon.”

  She pulled in a deep breath, closed her eyes again, and allowed Ada’s words to fall over her.

  “He makes you to lie down in green pastures.”

  Something inside of her unclenched for the first time since that night.

  “He restores your soul.”

  She eventually fell back into a dreamless sleep, with Ada’s hands lying softly on her head and the words of Psalm 23 ministering to her soul.

  Chapter 20

  She’s still not eating.” Julia
washed the sandwich plates from lunch as she looked out the kitchen window. She had wrapped Sharon’s sandwich in a dishcloth. Caleb liked a midafternoon snack, so at least it wouldn’t go to waste.

  “Ya, but she looked like she wanted to eat. That’s a step in the right direction.” Caleb put his arms around his wife’s waist, causing her to drop the cup she was rinsing back into the sudsy water.

  Ada had gone upstairs to nap, and Sharon was outside taking down laundry from the line. The day was sunny and the temperature in the fifties. The sheets and clothes they had hung out early that morning were already dry.

  She and Caleb were completely alone in the kitchen, but even so, Julia wasn’t accustomed to her husband’s displays of affection. She could hardly believe that perhaps he did care for her. Perhaps he hadn’t married her out of pity.

  “I’m worried about Sharon.”

  He kissed her cheek, peered out through the window, and shrugged. “She looks okay to me.” Moving to the cookie platter, he snagged two and leaned against the counter.

  “Except she weighs twenty pounds less than she should.” Julia dried off a plate with a flourish and practically tossed it into the cabinet. “She barely speaks. And she wakes with nightmares.” A cup rattled as she set it next to the plates with a bit more energy than necessasry.

  “I’ve been warned to beware of wives when the dishes start to shake, rattle, and roll.”

  “Oh, you have?” Julia paused with another cup in her right hand and a dish towel in her left.

  “Ya.”

  “And who would warn you of that?”

  “Can’t say.”

  “Can I guess?”

  “Probably, but that’s not the point.”

  “What is the point, Caleb Zook?”

  He moved closer, pulled the dish towel from her hand, and helped her store the cup more gently in the cabinet. “That you’re worried about my cousin, which I appreciate. And you’re trying to hurry the Lord’s work, which is useless and frustrating.”

  Her hands free, she allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace, and when she did, Julia’s tension melted like the soap bubbles in her dishwater. “You think it’s the Lord’s work for her to be here? You think being with us will help her?”