The Wish

by Beverly Lewis

  He shook his head. “I say it’s time they know. My father’s even been pokin’ around the topic here lately, knowing I’ve been saving up so we could have a gut start once we’re wed.”

  “To be honest, the other day, after you dropped by for the wreath—my mother was fishin’ around for details ’bout us. I told her we’re gut friends, but apparently she was hopin’ for more.”

  “If I could have managed to swing it sooner, believe me, we’d be married by now.”

  She took small bites of mashed potatoes and gravy, but Tom’s sandwich soon lay nearly forgotten as he talked about getting married at the start of this year’s wedding season.

  “Early November, then?” she asked.

  “All right with you?”

  Leona nodded, so delighted she could hardly think of eating. Tom hadn’t said where they would live, but some newlyweds stayed with parents or in empty Dawdi Hauses until the spring. Whatever Tom decided would be fine with her. Wherever we can be together . . .

  On the ride home, Tom’s horse trotted faster, or maybe it just seemed that way to Leona, who felt like she wasn’t riding at all but rather floating through the silvery moonlight, her hand in Tom’s.

  As they passed over a bridge near some marshland, the smell of a newly plowed field mingled with the fragrant night air, and Leona knew she’d never been happier.

  Tom saw Leona home and said good-night, which was mighty difficult since, as usual, he really didn’t want to say good-bye. Even though he’d been almost certain of Leona’s answer, he was so relieved she’d said yes.

  Once home, he made swift work of unhitching his mare, then stabled and watered her. That done, he moved the courting buggy into the carriage shed and outened the lantern.

  He felt too keyed up to head for bed, thoughts of making a home with Leona filling his imagination. Instead, he was hungry again and found some of his mother’s leftover blueberry muffins wrapped in the bread box on the counter. He poured a glass of cold milk from the fridge and walked out onto the back porch and stood there, reliving Leona’s joyful expression when he proposed.

  At the time, he’d thought it was a good thing they were in a public place, because the temptation was mighty strong to simply take her into his arms and kiss her again and again, sealing their love.

  Tom finally headed upstairs, but it wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed that he had to push back the nagging question that sometimes haunted him when he least expected it. If Arkansas Joe hadn’t up and left with his family, would Leona be mine?

  He sighed and closed the laundry hamper. It doesn’t matter, he reminded himself, pulling back the bed quilt. Adam is long gone, and the Good Lord has seen fit to answer my deepest prayer.

  CHAPTER

  9

  As was typical, the supper table conversation had a slow start that Tuesday evening. Mamma passed the chicken and waffles to Dat first, holding the platter while he dished up his meal.

  Should I tell my parents about Tom’s proposal before or after dessert? Leona mused while sipping her iced tea. She observed how her parents glanced at each other, rarely saying more than a word or two—Dat about the tasty food and Mamma thanking him—the same thing every meal. Leona often wished there might be something worthwhile to talk about, something interesting like other families talked about when they sat down to eat together.

  Tonight, of course, she knew just the thing.

  “Tom asked me to marry him last night,” she announced, immediately getting her parents’ attention.

  “Oh, my dear girl,” Mamma said, looking at Dat, a bright smile on her face as she turned to Leona.

  This pleased Leona. “Jah, and I’m ever so happy,” she assured them.

  “Tom sought me out after Preaching Easter mornin’, while we were waiting for the shared meal, askin’ for my blessing,” Dat surprised Leona by saying.

  She was deeply touched to know this.

  “He’s a gut young man.”

  “Denki for tellin’ me.” She rose to hug his neck, then stopped herself and sat back down, not wanting to embarrass him, even though this was a moment like no other for the three of them.

  “I’m real glad for ya, Leona.” Mamma said it so softly, Leona almost wanted her to repeat it, but she turned to thank her for the cherished words.

  “Tom will be like a second son to ya, Mamma.”

  “A welcome addition to our family,” Dat emphasized.

  Thank You, Lord. Leona couldn’t have been more delighted. “We should’ve invited Dawdi Benuel over to share the meal and the news,” she said, knowing Dawdi would have broken the ice a bit more and asked questions, too. I would have felt comfortable hugging him . . . if he didn’t get to me first.

  “Invite him for breakfast tomorrow,” Mamma suggested.

  “S’pose I could, but I’ll be leavin’ for work in the morning, so maybe I’ll just go an’ tell him myself later.”

  Mamma nodded, then went back to eating, and that was that.

  Later, Leona asked her mother if Leona might accompany her to market next Saturday, trying to find a way to prolong the sense of contentment she felt.

  “My sister will be there, of course,” Mamma said. “Your Aendi Salome. I think I’ve told ya we’ve started sharing the market table.”

  “Well, maybe sometime we can plan ahead so I can join you, too,” Leona suggested. “Or Salome might like a break.”

  “If you wish, dear.”

  “I really do,” Leona said, thrilled with her mother’s response.

  Leona deliberately looked to see if the ground was there beneath her feet as she walked into Maggie’s shop the next day. Now she understood better why the engaged girls amongst die Youngie seemed to exude a radiance that wasn’t as evident during their dating days.

  Leona went around lowering the shades a bit, the sun beating in hard just now. She caught herself wondering if Gloria had ever thought of working amongst fancy folk and tourists. Would she feel comfortable doing so? Leona imagined an invisible wall between them where there had once been complete openness and sharing.

  Does Gloria ever think of me?

  “You certainly look wide-awake today, Leona.” Maggie had just rung up a purchase for a customer, then began to tally the morning’s sales behind the counter. “Did ya have a gut sleep?”

  Leona waited for the customer to head out the door before replying. “Actually, I slept great last night, but it wasn’t easy falling asleep Monday night.” She had to smile. “Oh, Maggie, I’m engaged to marry Tom Ebersol.”

  “Such wunnerbaar-gut news!” Maggie rushed to embrace her, crying for joy. “Does your Mamma know yet?”

  “I told her and Dat yesterday.”

  “I’d be surprised if they weren’t holdin’ their breath for it.”

  Another customer came in just then, and Leona turned away, refolding doilies that had been handled and mussed up by shoppers.

  The minute Maggie was free, she came over and asked if Leona and Tom had set a date, to which Leona whispered, even though no one else was around to hear, that their wedding would take place the second Thursday in November.

  “Too bad yous have to wait more than a half year.”

  Leona blushed at that.

  “Must seem like a long time when you’re so in love,” Maggie added.

  “There are plenty of things to be done yet, so I left the date up to Tom.”

  “Ach, such a patient wife you’ll be.” Maggie nodded her head and patted Leona’s hand. “Patience goes a long way, let me tell ya.”

  Smiling, Leona didn’t mind the interruption when four Mennonite women walked in, the bell on the door jingling at their arrival.

  The following Sunday was an off day from Preaching, and Leona rode with her parents to visit Mahlon and Maggie and the children. Sitting in the second bench seat, Leona petted Brownie on her lap; Mahlon’s children had been pleading for him to come along. Brownie was as much Leona’s now as he had been Gloria’s, and every bit a
s fondly cared for.

  She recalled Dawdi Benuel’s joyful whoop when she’d gone to tell him her news last Monday evening. Akin to Maggie’s exuberant response, she thought. Mahlon had always been somewhat reserved, like their parents, but he had married a woman as people-oriented as anyone Leona had ever known, besides Gloria and her mother. Tom, on the other hand, could be serious yet also liked to have fun . . . and enjoyed a good conversation. A nice mix.

  The afternoon was warm, and sunlight glimmered on the flat surface of the pond behind Bishop Mast’s farmhouse as they approached the ordained minister’s large spread of land. Leona looked away. Things had definitely changed for the church members back when Preacher Reuben Mast was chosen by lot to take the deceased bishop’s position. Yet the only person unwilling to submit to his strict leadership had been Gloria’s father.

  Leona stared out at the newly cultivated fields on the opposite side of the buggy. The roadside ditches were thick with grass, and the flowering trees were in their glory, as were the pink peach blossoms in the nearby orchard.

  “Mahlon’s hired a farmhand just till young Samuel’s older,” her father was telling Mamma as they neared her brother’s place. “Have ya heard?”

  Mamma shook her head. “Mahlon works too hard.”

  “That’s the way life is for anyone who’s a keeper of the fields, ain’t?”

  Silence prevailed until Mamma slightly shifted in her seat. “Maggie tells me her shop’s doin’ well.”

  “She has quite a few repeat customers,” Leona volunteered. “It’s wunnerbaar to see them come in with their long lists for birthdays, ’specially, and other wants and wishes.”

  “Jah, wishes . . .” Mamma’s voice faded away.

  “Wishes are like hopes, right?” Leona yearned yet again to talk about something of substance, something that didn’t just fill up the space between their house and Mahlon’s. But neither her father nor her mother responded. Leona wouldn’t let it bother her, though, thankful for the changes she’d seen in her mother, more talkative, at least, in the years since Gloria and her family had left town. Maybe I’ve calmed down some, too. . . .

  Leona focused her attention on Brownie, whose eyes were at half-mast as she stroked his graying neck and back, grateful for her near-constant companion.

  While Mahlon and the children visited with Dat and Mamma in the front room, Leona stayed with Maggie in her kitchen and quartered apples. She placed them on a round tray with Ritz crackers and cheese spread, a tasty snack for midafternoon.

  “Did ya tell Mahlon my news?” Leona asked, itching to know.

  “I don’t recall ever seein’ him grin like that.”

  “Honestly?”

  Maggie nodded. “It was really kind of sweet, his reaction to his little sister getting engaged and all.”

  “I’m not so little anymore.” Leona didn’t mention that most of her friends were married; Maggie was as aware of this as she was.

  “Well, he’s your only brother, so he’s very protective of you—prays for you every day. Did ya know that?”

  Leona smiled. “I’d never have guessed it.”

  “Well, it’s true. Like your father, Mahlon has a list of folk he prays for . . . keeps it in the front of his Biewel.”

  “Dat has a prayer list?”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t know.” Maggie lifted the tray of food and motioned for Leona to follow her into the front room. “We have some mouths to feed.”

  Leona hurried along, trying to imagine her father writing a prayer list like Maggie said. She must be ferhoodled about that.

  In the front room, she spotted her nine-year-old nephew, Samuel, teasing his younger sister, five-year-old Marianna, hiding her rag doll first behind his chair, then behind Dat’s, next to him. Young Marianna smiled but didn’t make a peep as she scampered back and forth, swift as a mouse, trying to snatch her doll from her mischievous brother.

  Samuel and Marianna’s middle sibling, seven-and-a-half-year-old Sadie, sat next to Leona’s mother, her petite hands folded primly against her long blue apron while the adults chattered away. She’s being so good. Leona recalled trying to sit still like that as a child, to be only seen and not heard. It had never been easy for her. Or for Mamma, considering how it had fallen on her to rein in Leona’s overenthusiastic temperament.

  Maggie placed the tray on a low table in the midst of the gathering, and Leona took a chair beside Sadie. “Did ya help the schoolteacher again last week?” she asked.

  Sadie brightened, her soft blue eyes blinking up at her. “I cleaned the chalkboard during afternoon recess. It didn’t take long, ’cause I wanted to go outside an’ play before the bell.”

  “I once filled in for my teacher when she was ill.”

  Sadie smiled. “How old were ya?”

  “Fourteen . . . almost finished with eighth grade.” Leona told her how exciting it had been when the school board permitted her to step into the teacher’s shoes for those two days. “My friend Gloria had already graduated and was at home helpin’ her mother cook and garden, but she would come after school to meet her little brothers, and then we’d walk back home together. She always brought Brownie along, too.”

  Sadie twisted one of her Kapp strings. “Brownie was hers first?”

  “You prob’ly don’t remember Gloria—you were only four when she moved away.” Leona sighed. “She wanted me to take care of Brownie.”

  “Is she comin’ back for him?”

  “Well . . .” Leona realized her mother was overhearing all this; Leona had certainly gotten herself into a corner. “Nee, Brownie’s mine now,” she said, making it clear.

  “Let’s go an’ play with him,” Sadie suggested, looking to Maggie, who granted permission with a quick nod of the head.

  “Sure.” Leona was glad for an excuse to exit the stuffy room.

  “Kumme, Aendi Leona,” Sadie said, reaching for her hand.

  They found Brownie lying in a blanket of sunlight at the southern end of the front porch, his long nose resting on his paws. Leona craved the sun, too, and loved how it fell over the dark bricks lining the walkway, warming them like toast. There was something about the intensity of the sun’s rays that reminded her of their heavenly Father’s constant love and grace.

  In less than a minute, the back door opened, and here came Samuel and Marianna, too. “Come join us,” Leona said, happy to be surrounded by her spunky nephew and his little sisters as they all squatted near Brownie and made over the precious pet.

  Gloria would be tickled, Leona thought, momentarily wishing she could share these moments of her life journey with her long-lost friend.

  CHAPTER

  10

  The breeze was soft that Tuesday afternoon, rustling the dogwoods and moving through the willow trees near the neighbors’ springhouse. Beneath the new leaves, the sun speckled the roadside with shifting light.

  Leona had decided to walk the last half mile home after working at Maggie’s shop, asking to be let out of the van. She yearned for the peace of a pleasant walk on the heels of having helped customers all day.

  When she neared the house, Leona spotted her mother heading toward the end of the lane to check the mail, waving when Mamma noticed her. How she loves writing and receiving letters, Leona thought, aware of the hours her mother spent each week corresponding with relatives in other districts, sometimes five pages or more.

  Leona caught up with her, and they strolled back toward the house together. “Did you get lots done today?” Leona asked. Her mother nodded, and Leona went on. “If you’d like, you might come in with me to the store sometime . . . see Maggie’s new merchandise.”

  “That’d be nice, if you’re sure I wouldn’t be in the way.”

  “Just let me know so I can plan it for a day when I’m working shorter hours, all right?”

  They reached the house, where Brownie had wandered out the dog door onto the porch, his tail thumping eagerly against the post. Leona bent to pet him as her moth
er went inside.

  After hanging up her coat in the mudroom, Leona went to the kitchen, where she noticed an envelope with her name on it lying on the counter. Recognizing Tom’s printing, she sat to read it at the kitchen table while her mother sifted through her own stack of mail.

  I’m looking forward to seeing you again this Saturday evening, Leona, he wrote, signing off, With love, Tom.

  It was so like him to send her a note to reassure her of his care and devotion, but it was the first time he’d ever written with love for a closing.

  Looking over at her mother, Leona folded Tom’s note. “I’ll make supper for us, all right?” she offered.

  “Denki . . . so thoughtful, dear,” her mother said, briefly looking up before returning to her letter reading.

  “How ’bout an extra big batch of chicken and noodles to take over to Dawdi?”

  “Des gut,” Mamma replied, her eyes still on her letter.

  Maybe I should invite him to eat with us, Leona thought. There’d be no shortage of conversation with him at the table!

  And she did just that.

  Later, at the meal, Dawdi smiled, clearly delighted with the company. He talked of Leona’s grandmother and how she had enjoyed rolling out noodle dough, taking a whole morning to make a large amount to dry and use for later. “She sure did love her noodles,” Dawdi said, digging into his plateful. “For sure and for certain, she would make over these, too.”

  “Jah, she knew how to put a feast together,” Leona’s father said, then looked at Mamma. “Much like you, Millie dear.”

  Dawdi Benuel grinned and gave Leona a knowing look.

  Mamma laughed softly. “No need to say that.”

  “Well, I mean it,” Dat replied.

  And to reinforce her father’s remark, Leona said, “I’ve enjoyed your feasts as much as Mammi’s.”

  “It’s not a competition,” Dawdi Benuel added.

  Leona smiled, glad she came from a long line of wonderful cooks. Tom will be thankful, too!

  It rained lightly for a few hours Wednesday afternoon, and Tom finished up the drywall for a large master bedroom suite and two spacious walk-in closets, thankful for a shorter than usual workday. He gathered up the drop cloths and other tools, counting the days till the weekend, when he would next see Leona.