Amish Celebrations

by Beth Wiseman

  Daed had made her full-size bed when she seven years old, replacing Hannah’s hand-me-down twin bed. She could still remember the first time she slept in the “big girl bed,” tucked beneath a new set of sheets and quilt. She glanced at the matching oak dresser that came a few months after the bed; the top three drawers were stuffed with undergarments, extra kapps, socks, tights for the winter, and sweaters. The bottom drawer was filled with letters from relatives, Christmas cards she’d received, and books. The rocking chair in the corner of the room once belonged to her grandmother, and the clock hanging on her wall was a gift from her mother just last year. Her family and friends knew how much she loved clocks, especially handmade ones like the one from Mamm—enclosed in cedar with delicate gold hands, keeping the world on schedule. Priscilla loved to fall asleep at night to the gentle ticking.

  It would all be going with her to her new home, and she was thankful for the familiarity her possessions would provide. She glanced to her left. Rachel’s envelope was on her nightstand. She thought about opening it, but recalled the promise she had made. Sweet Rachel.

  It would be time to go help with supper soon, but for just a moment, she decided to indulge herself. She lay back on her bed and closed her eyes, visions of her wedding day swirling in her mind. Naomi and Rose would be by her side. Zeke and Abe would serve as Chester’s attendants. Mamm would cry, of course—just as she had when Hannah got married. Her friends and family would all bring lavishly decorated cakes and keepsake containers filled with candies, cookies, and all kinds of special goodies to be passed around the eck. There would be a meal of roascht and all the fixings bountiful enough to feed the family and friends in attendance. It was a perfect plan, and it was going to be a great day.

  Hiccup. Not again! Her chest rose and fell with each spasm. She’d never had the hiccups so much in her life.

  She heard the murmur of voices across the hall, but she didn’t budge as she continued to envision her wedding day. Then the voices became clearer.

  “I hope we’re not going to have a repeat of Hannah’s wedding.”

  Priscilla’s eyes flew open at the sound of her mother’s voice. She didn’t move, just listened as Naomi answered.

  “I’m sure everything will be fine, Mamm.”

  “I hope so. Poor Chester is having all kinds of trouble with the haus.” Her mother paused, and Priscilla cupped her hand over her mouth and hiccuped again. “You know what happened with the wedding dress. And now this.”

  What? Priscilla bolted off the bed and held her breath as her heart raced. She could tell from the sounds coming from across the hall that Mamm and Naomi were straightening Sarah Mae’s room.

  “I don’t know if we should even tell Priscilla just yet that her favorite aenti and onkel won’t be able to come.” Mamm sighed deeply. “You know how much your sister worries.”

  No! Not only were Aenti Rebecca and Onkel John her favorite kinfolks, but her aunt was supposed to be making Priscilla a special cake topped with candied yellow roses. Priscilla stood quietly, her hand firmly across her mouth, and listened. Her body jerked with another spasm.

  “No problem, Mamm. I’ll make Priscilla a special cake.”

  Priscilla pulled her hand away and smiled at Naomi’s offer. Hiccup! Her eyes widened as she realized how loud it was this time. In seconds her mother and Naomi were standing in her doorway.

  “I thought you were downstairs in the sewing room working on your dress.” Mamm put her hands on her hips and frowned.

  “I was . . .” She paused as her chest heaved in and out. “But the sewing machine kept locking up on me. Now, please tell me why Aenti Rebecca and Onkel John aren’t going to be at my wedding.” Priscilla put her palms on her chest and held her breath, but it didn’t go any good. Hiccup.

  Mamm walked to the bed and smoothed the quilt where Priscilla had been sitting, then she turned around and folded her hands in front of her. “Rebecca is going to have a baby, and the doctor in Middlefield told her she shouldn’t travel.”

  Priscilla cringed. “What? Aenti Rebecca is pregnant? She’s . . . she’s nearly your age, Mamm. How can that be?”

  Mamm slammed her hands back to her hips as she cleared her throat. “I assure you, Priscilla, women can get pregnant at the age of forty.” She stared at Priscilla, raised her eyebrows, and stood taller.

  Priscilla sat back down as she quickly calculated her mother’s age. Forty-five. “Ach, ya. Sarah Mae.” She grinned.

  Naomi stepped forward and put a hand on Priscilla’s arm. “No worries, Priscilla. I’ll make sure there are candied yellow roses on one of your cakes.”

  “Danki, Naomi.”

  There was no doubt in Priscilla’s mind that her sister would make a great cake. Hiccup!

  “That’s a terrible case of the hiccups,” Naomi said as she sat down in Priscilla’s rocking chair.

  “Please don’t tell me to eat a spoonful of sugar. I’ve already heard that twice.” Hiccup.

  Naomi kicked the floor with her bare feet until the oak rocker swung into motion. “I can’t even remember the last time I had the hiccups.”

  Her mother sat down beside Priscilla on the bed and crossed one leg over the other.

  Priscilla hiccuped again, and they all chuckled. “Until lately I can’t remember the last time I’ve had them either. But I got them when I was at the phone shanty with . . .” She shifted her eyes toward her mother, who was grinning. “. . . with Chester. He got the call that there were problems with the roof. Oh . . . and before that I got them when I found Sarah Mae cutting up my wedding dress.” She tapped her finger to her chin. “And I when I answered the phone at the shanty when the building inspector called with bad news.” Her expression dropped. She glanced back and forth between her mother and sister. “And now I have them again when I hear this sad news about Aenti Rebecca and Onkel John.” She sat up taller and gasped. “Every time I get the hiccups, something bad happens with the wedding.”

  Mamm slapped her playfully on the leg. “Ach, Priscilla. You’re being superstitious. That’s nonsense.”

  Maybe.

  But just the same . . . she was going downstairs to eat a spoonful of sugar. And she would pray for no more embarrassing eruptions.

  CHAPTER 4

  Saturday morning Priscilla pulled her black jacket snug around her as she walked down the road toward Rose’s house. She needed to talk to her best friend—specifically, she needed Rose to convince her that she’d lost sleep last night for no reason. Priscilla had prayed hard for God to take away her anxiety about the wedding, but sleep eluded her anyway.

  She kicked a pebble in the road, but quickly picked up her pace when she noticed the clouds darkening above her and felt the sting of the wind’s chill on her cheeks. Leaves on either side of the road started to swirl in small brown and orange tornadoes around her, and within seconds she felt raindrops splashing her face. Rose’s house was in view, so she sprinted toward the porch. By the time she reached the steps, she was soaked.

  “Priscilla King, what in the world are you doing?” Rose pulled Priscilla into the living room. “Wait here. I’ll get you a towel.”

  Priscilla stood dripping on the hardwood floor until Rose returned. “Sorry, I got water on the floor.”

  “That’s okay. Let’s move into the kitchen and sit at the table.” Rose pulled out a chair for Priscilla, who then sat down on top of the towel. Droplets of water spilled onto the top of the table, and Rose handed her a kitchen towel for her face. “Didn’t you know we were in for rain this afternoon?”

  Priscilla shrugged as she patted her face. “Where is everyone?”

  Rose sat down across from her. “Mamm and Daed went to Strasburg Tractor Supply to get a part for the plow, James and Ben are in the barn, and Aenti Tabby is visiting a friend. So this is a gut time to talk.” She put her elbows on the table and dropped her chin into her hands. “What’s wrong, Priscilla? You look like something’s bothering you.”

  Priscilla shrugged again.
“I—I don’t know.” She scratched her nose, then fumbled with the damp towel on the table. “Just so much to do before the wedding.”

  Rose put her palms flat on the table and sat taller. She lifted her chin. “Priscilla, you’ve had everything for this wedding planned out for months. What’s really bothering you?”

  Priscilla smiled. Rose knew her better than anyone, so her prodding wasn’t surprising. Still, she felt silly. She rubbed her eyes for a moment, then looked up at her friend. Leaving out no details, she told how she had been getting the hiccups as a forewarning of unwelcomed events. When she was done, she waited for Rose to comment. But Rose just stared at her.

  “I know you think I’m ab im kopp, but isn’t it strange?”

  Rose folded her arms across her chest and grinned. “Ya, I do think you’re off in the head. That’s just plain silly, Priscilla. Those things can happen to anyone.” She leaned forward to reach for Priscilla’s hand and squeezed it. “Don’t worry, mei maedel. Everything is going to be fine. Trust the Lord’s will.”

  Priscilla forced a smile. “You’re right.” She eased her hand from underneath Rose’s and stood up. She pointed a finger at her friend, whose nuptials were set for December. “I just hope you don’t have all the problems we’re having, come time for your wedding.”

  Rose raised her shoulders, then dropped them slowly. “If we do, we will put our faith in God and work through it. Which is what you should do.”

  Priscilla walked to the window and took a peek outside. The sun was slowly lifting above blue-gray clouds. “I guess I better head home before it makes wet again.” She turned to Rose, gave her a hug, and darted down the porch steps.

  She was determined to put her trust in God’s will and not fret about silly superstitions.

  Chester pulled the stool up close to the workbench in the barn and sat down. He took off his hat and reached for the clock he’d been working on, picturing it on the mantel in his and Priscilla’s home. His future frau loved clocks, and he wanted her to cherish this wedding gift. He ran his hand over it gingerly, pleased that the last coat of stain was dry. Now he just had to apply the glossy finish and install the clockworks.

  He took great care applying the lacquer, making sure it was smooth and didn’t leave any bubbles. He’d spent most of the day working on the roof with Zeke, and he hoped to finish the clock in time to take it to Priscilla tomorrow when she cooked for him at her house. He tried to picture the deacon announcing to the congregation that he and Priscilla would be married. They’d been formally engaged since July, and traditionally the publication of their engagement would have been a surprise to most of the community. But both he and Priscilla had been guilty of spreading the word from the moment she had agreed to become his frau. Chester reckoned a few folks weren’t sure of the date, but Priscilla’s father would announce the day and time after the deacon spoke. He couldn’t wait until November when they would take their vows before God, friends, and family.

  As much as he would like to hear the deacon and Priscilla’s father speak about their upcoming wedding, he wouldn’t give up tomorrow afternoon with Priscilla for anything. It was rare that they were allowed to spend time alone, and Chester wanted it to be a day to remember.

  He set the clock off to one side so that it could dry. By morning, it would be dry enough to install the parts.

  “Done with the clock?”

  Chester turned to see Abe walking into the barn, his wrist still in a cast. “Ya, almost.”

  “Sorry I haven’t been able to help you more with the haus.”

  Chester started to answer, but then he noticed something holstered to his brother’s hip. “You know Bishop Ebersol doesn’t like us using cell phones unless it’s for business. And neither do Mamm and Daed.”

  Abe put his good hand on his hip. “Ach, ya. But I’m in mei rumschpringe. Besides, everyone has one.”

  “I never had one before I was baptized, and I still don’t.” Chester frowned. “I’d put that in my pocket if I were you. No need to rub it in Mamm’s and Daed’s faces.”

  “They’ve already seen it, and they didn’t say nothing.” He reached down and touched the phone. “I wouldn’t need one if Mamm and Daed would allow an answering machine in the shanty. We miss calls all the time, and I never know what’s going on.”

  Chester elbowed Abe as he brushed past. “Don’t play trickery with me. You just want to be able to call Linda. Bet she has a phone, too, no?”

  Abe grinned. “How’d you know about Linda?”

  Chester turned to face him. “Everyone knows about you and Linda. You’ve been carting her home from singings for weeks, and you get a goofy look every time you’re around her.”

  “I do not.” Abe stood taller and raised his chin.

  “Ya, you do.” Chester chuckled as he walked out of the barn.

  Abe was on his heels. “What do you mean, goofy look?”

  Chester kept walking but did his best to imitate the look Abe got when he was around Linda. He lifted his nose and squinted his eyes. “Like this.”

  “You look like a pig.”

  Chester laughed. “Exactly! So do you when you give Linda that dumm look.”

  They were walking up the porch steps to the house when Chester heard the vibration coming from Abe’s hip. Abe unlatched the phone and brought it to his ear.

  “At least you got the good sense to keep it on vibrate,” Chester mumbled, shaking his head.

  As he reached for the screen door, Abe nudged him with his elbow. “It’s for you.”

  “What? Who is it?”

  “Mr. Turner.”

  “Huh?” How on earth had his boss tracked down his brother’s cell number? For that matter, how did he even know Abe had a phone? Chester dismissed the thoughts as he brought the phone to his ear.

  Mr. Turner was up in years, but generally he was a likable fellow, even though he’d been acting a bit out of character lately. But Chester had never heard him scream the way he was hollering into the phone at this moment. He held the phone out a few inches from his ear, shocked at what Mr. Turner was saying.

  CHAPTER 5

  Priscilla lit the bayberry-scented candle that she’d saved for this occasion. Then she arranged some chrysanthemums in a vase, ones she’d picked that morning. If she had any regret about the ways of the Old Order Amish, it would be that flowers were not allowed at weddings. She wished her special day could be filled with them.

  She breathed in their scent as she eyed the two place settings she’d carefully laid out for her dinner. Mamm insisted she use the good china, white plates with ivy delicately etched around the edges, and she put them atop lace place mats that were more for looks than anything else. Cream-colored napkins, silverware, and company tea glasses finished off the setting.

  She and Chester would have about two hours alone while everyone else was sharing a meal after church service. After spending the morning preparing, everything was ready. Chester had requested “underground ham” for the main meal, a recipe her mother often carted to social events. Chester loved the cheesy ham and potato dish that was baked and topped with crumbled bacon. Earlier that morning, Priscilla had baked two loaves of bread and a butter pecan cake. Chester liked the cream cheese filling and rich, flavorful icing. She planned to spend the rest of her life tending to him, their house, and eventually their kinner.

  Now, as the fragrance of the candle mingled with the rewarding smell of her cooking, she stepped back and smiled. And no hiccups. She’d convinced herself that her superstitions were unfounded, and she refused to let worry block her heart from the voice of God. He was in control. She pushed loose strands of hair up underneath her prayer covering and smoothed the wrinkles from her black apron. Chester liked her burgundy-colored dress the best, so she was happy to wear it. She closed her eyes and thanked God for all He’d blessed her with.

  As she heard the clippity-clop of hooves coming up the driveway, she took another look around the kitchen. Joy bubbled inside her as s
he moved through the living room. She pulled the wooden door open, but when she looked through the screen at Chester, her elated spirit floundered. She knew when his smile was forced. She pushed the screen door open, and he handed her a box wrapped in yellow and tied with a white bow.

  “Danki,” she said as she accepted the present. She bit her bottom lip. No kiss?

  “You’re welcome.” Chester took a deep breath. “It smells gut in here.” He took his hat off and hung it on the rack by the door. His blue shirt brought out his eyes, which met with hers as he finally leaned down and kissed her.

  “Is everything okay?” Priscilla held her breath, praying nothing else was wrong with the house.

  “Sure.”

  They stood there for an awkward moment, and Priscilla was certain that everything was not all right.

  “I made your favorite, underground ham.” She reached for his hand and pulled him into the kitchen, cradling the package in her other arm. “It’s keeping warm in the oven.”

  “You’re the best, Priscilla. I love you.”

  As he kissed her again, Priscilla slowly eased away and placed the present on the table. “What’s wrong, Chester? I can tell something’s not right.” Her stomach rolled as she watched his face fall. “Please tell me.” She pulled out her father’s chair at the head of the table. “Here, sit. I’ll pour you some tea.”

  After she poured them each some tea, she sat down beside him on one of the long wooden benches and waited.

  “I know how much you’ve been looking forward to this day.” He smiled, looking at the flowers and the candle flickering in the jar on the table. “I don’t want you to be concerned or sad about anything.”