Weddings at Promise Lodge

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Our situation is in God’s hands, she reminded herself as she took a plate from the table where the food was arranged. He’ll reveal everything in His own gut time.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Christine’s temples began to pound, and by the time the doctor came into the exam room, she had a full-blown headache. Monroe had called the clinic as soon as it opened Monday morning and explained their situation, but the only doctor who saw Plain patients without insurance didn’t have an opening until Wednesday, unless another patient canceled. The lady on the phone had told him he could take his chances and show up, and perhaps the doctor would squeeze them in—so they’d left Promise Lodge at eight in the morning.

  It was now three thirty. Monroe had gone to a deli across the street and brought them sandwiches at noon, but Leola had been antsy all day and barely picked at her food. She’d sucked down her cola, so Monroe had returned to the deli for another one, which she’d spilled all over the waiting room floor. Frenzied didn’t begin to describe Leola, and Christine was beginning to feel frazzled, as well. She marveled that Monroe remained so calm and patient, but the deepening lines around his eyes told of his weariness. At long last the receptionist told them a cancellation had opened up a time slot, so they were escorted to an exam room.

  “What can I do for you folks today? I’m Dr. Todd.” The slender doctor shook hands with Monroe and Christine as he entered the room, but he got a wary look from Leola, who refused to offer her hand. He appeared to be around Monroe’s age, although his thinning hair was a contrast to the bishop’s thick, wavy mop.

  Monroe responded. “This is Leola Duff. When she came here from Illinois, she didn’t bring her medications—”

  “I flushed them down the toilet and crumpled up the labels,” Leola announced proudly. “Aunt Polly got really mad at me, so I left.”

  Dr. Todd’s eyebrows rose. He skimmed the information form Monroe had filled out earlier in the day. “What medications is she on?” he asked. “What conditions are being treated?”

  Monroe glanced at Christine, as though to gather strength. “Leola doesn’t see the world the way the rest of us do,” he began cautiously. “She . . . she’s socially and mentally disadvantaged—”

  “Monroe, you know that’s not true,” Leola interrupted matter-of-factly. “I’m just fine, now that I’m here with you.”

  Dr. Todd was following the conversation attentively. “And what was she taking?” he asked again.

  Monroe shrugged wearily. “I have no idea. Leola’s parents were called away to Chicago on a medical emergency involving her mother, and the aunt they entrusted her to doesn’t know her doctor’s name—or what medications she was taking. I’m really hoping you can help us out, Dr. Todd,” he added with a sigh. “Leola says things to other folks to make them believe that I—I—”

  “You ruined me, Monroe,” Leola said with a dreamy-eyed gaze. “But I love you anyway.”

  Christine flinched. The doctor appeared to be getting the same negative ideas that Preacher Amos had about Monroe’s relationship with Leola. Once again he studied the information sheet on his clipboard.

  “I see you’re no relation to Leola,” Dr. Todd stated. “And even if you were, I can’t prescribe medications without giving her a physical exam—and then a mental health practitioner would need to run a thorough battery of tests so we know what she’s being treated for.”

  “Please go ahead and give her an exam, because you’re the only doctor we could find who sees Plain patients without insurance,” Monroe insisted. “If you can set us up with that mental health doctor—”

  “I don’t want any more pills,” Leola blurted. “And you can’t make me take them!”

  Dr. Todd focused on the young woman and then glanced at her sheet. “How old are you, Leola?”

  Smiling, she held up two fingers on each hand.

  When the doctor’s eyebrows rose, Monroe gently took hold of Leola’s shoulder. “Say your age, sweetheart. You are not four.”

  “I’m twenty-two,” she protested. “You know that, Monroe.”

  Dr. Todd was studying Leola closely. “Yes, that’s what your form says, too. Do you want to see another doctor—take those tests you probably took at home—”

  “No!” she snapped. “I don’t like all those questions. They make me feel stupid.”

  “May I call your parents and get their permission to test you—or better yet, ask them what you’ve been taking?”

  “They’re not home! They dumped me off at Aunt Polly’s,” Leola said, her voice rising with her frustration. She rose and began pacing around the small exam room.

  “And you don’t want to be back on your medications so you’ll feel better?” the doctor asked.

  “No!” she cried out. “They taste awful. And they make me feel weird.”

  Dr. Todd laid aside his clipboard, apparently reaching his conclusion. “Because Leola is of age, and because you folks aren’t related to her,” he said to Monroe, “I don’t have the authority to override her refusal to be treated. I’m sorry.”

  Christine patted Monroe’s arm. Without putting it into words, Dr. Todd had conveyed his concern about Leola as well as his empathy for Monroe’s dilemma. Leola was still walking a tight circle around the room, like a wild animal pacing in a cage. With each passing moment she displayed more evidence that she needed treatment.

  Monroe thanked the doctor, steered Leola out of the exam room, and paid the bill at the reception desk. The ride home in the buggy was quiet, because Leola immediately dozed off in the backseat—and because Christine didn’t know what to say, and didn’t want to wake her. As she studied her fiancé’s profile, Christine knew he was more than just a handsome, persuasive man caught in a difficult situation. Though he’d spent his entire day trying to remedy Leola’s unpredictable moods and words and had come away from the clinic without answers, Monroe had shown nothing but patience for the young woman whose incriminating remarks were getting him in hot water with Preacher Amos.

  When they arrived at the lodge, Monroe parked the buggy near the steps. He turned to look at Leola, who was still snoozing in the backseat. “Leola, we’re back,” he said loudly. “You need to wake up so you can go to your room and finish your nap.”

  “No nap!” she blurted as she quickly sat up. Leola blinked and looked out the buggy window, getting her bearings. “I’m still tired,” she murmured. “Maybe you could carry me upstairs—”

  “Nope. You’re too old for that and you know it.” Monroe turned in the seat so he could focus on her more directly. “You have to understand, Leola, that if you won’t take your medications—and you keep telling these people I have to marry you—I’ll be in big trouble,” he said sternly. “I’m sorry you said no to the doctor today, but I’m not finished. I’m calling your Dat again to see if he can send me your prescriptions.”

  Leola stared at him, her chin trembling. “But I don’t want to—”

  “We all have to do things we don’t want, Leola. It’s part of being a grown-up—and you are a grown-up.” Monroe’s voice filled the buggy. He wasn’t yelling, but his tone left no doubt that he’d reached the end of his emotional rope. “We’ll go in and see if there’s something around for supper, and then you’re going to your room. No arguments. No crying or causing a fuss.”

  Leola’s eyes had widened, but she nodded meekly. “Are . . . are you mad at me, Monroe?” she whimpered.

  “I’m not happy. I want you to be well, but you’ve refused my help.” He sighed and opened the door. “Let’s go in. We’re all tired and hungry.”

  Christine headed quickly into the kitchen, where the Kuhns and Rosetta were clearing the small table after having eaten their supper.

  “Ah, there you are!” Ruby said. “We kept the rest of the stew warm for you, and biscuits, too. Nothing fancy, but it’s gut and it’s filling.”

  “Denki,” Christine murmured as she hung her wraps on a peg in the mudroom. “After the long day we’ve had, I’m gr
ateful that you cooked supper.”

  “How’d it go?” Rosetta asked softly. She smiled at Monroe and Leola as they entered the kitchen.

  Christine sighed. “Not so gut. The doctor can’t prescribe any medications because Leola’s of age and she refused them—and because we’re not related to her.”

  “However,” Monroe said as he headed for the phone on the back wall, “because Polly hasn’t called me with a number for the hospital in Chicago, I’m going to try again to reach Leola’s dat at home. If he and her mamm are there, I’ll be taking Leola back to Illinois tomorrow. Won’t take but a minute to leave another message—I know the number by heart now,” he added as he began to dial. “If you’ve got something I can share for supper, I’ll be eternally grateful.”

  Christine nodded and took three bowls from the cabinet. Leola had already taken her seat at the table, looking very subdued and forlorn. She was listening to Monroe, apparently aware that he meant business and wouldn’t tolerate any more of her outbursts.

  “Chester, it’s Monroe again,” he was saying into the phone. “We’ve hit a snag trying to get Leola’s medications, so as soon as you’re home, give me a call, all right? She’s safe and she’s doing okay, but we really need to get her back home as soon as Edna can handle it. Hope you’re both well. Hope to hear from you soon.”

  As Christine ladled stew into their three bowls, she stole a glance at Leola. The young woman appeared tired and very sad, but what was anyone to do for her? Leola studied the bowl of stew and the biscuits Christine set in front of her as though she didn’t recognize any of her food.

  “Not hungry,” Leola murmured, propping her head on her hand.

  “You should eat some of that,” Monroe suggested. “You’ll feel better. We want you to be well, Leola.”

  Christine sat down beside Monroe and bowed her head. We’re grateful for Your presence today, Lord, and for getting to see the doctor. Hold Leola and Monroe in Your hands as we try to follow Your will during this difficult time.

  When she opened her eyes, Monroe was still deep in prayer, his forehead resting on his clasped hands. Christine waited patiently for him. At this point, she didn’t know what else to do.

  * * *

  After Monroe went home, Rosetta waited for the Kuhns, Leola, and Christine to go upstairs. She’d tried to remain positive—tried to pretend it hadn’t bothered her that Maria had slipped out with a suitcase Sunday just as the women were setting out the meal after church. From her apartment window, she’d also seen Maria’s car parked up at the Wickey place, and she’d seen her renter park beside Truman’s barn again this afternoon after she’d finished at her bakery.

  Rosetta sighed. What was she supposed to think about these situations?

  She was tired of all the suggestive scenarios that had been whirling in her head since yesterday morning, so she worked up the nerve to go to the phone. Rosetta dialed Truman’s number quickly—almost hung up—but gripped the receiver with her eyes closed, wondering who would answer. What would she say if it was Maria? After three rings, someone picked up.

  “Hello? You’ve reached the Wickey residence.”

  Rosetta swallowed hard as Maria’s cheerful voice filled her with regret—and the worst assumptions. “Hi, Maria, it’s Rosetta,” she managed in a weak voice. “Everything all right up there?”

  There was a pause. Was Maria making up a story? Covering the receiver with her hand, talking to Truman?

  “Irene got home last night,” the young woman replied. “I’ve been helping with the housework and cooking, as she’s not supposed to overdo it for a few days. Truman’s, uh, not able to come to the phone right now. Shall I have him call you back?”

  Images of what might be keeping Truman away from the phone only made Rosetta more uncomfortable. “No, that’s all right,” she insisted. “Glad to hear his mamm got home. Give everyone my best.”

  Rosetta hung up, her heart sinking like a rock. Irene surely knew that she and Truman were engaged. Did she wonder why Maria had come over but Rosetta hadn’t?

  Nobody—namely Truman—told you she was home, after all.

  It was too late to pay a visit, because Irene was probably in bed—not that Rosetta had any inclination to walk over, at this point. With a heavy sigh, she trudged up the back stairway to her apartment.

  Just how chummy are Truman and Maria becoming, anyway? Why is she staying there when it’s a two-minute drive from Promise Lodge to the Wickey place?

  Rosetta went to bed, but sleep eluded her for several hours.

  Chapter Sixteen

  March came in like a lion, with heavy, wet snow and wind—but that didn’t stop the Helmuth twins and Allen Troyer from arriving on the afternoon of the eighth. Christine was taking a pan of chocolate beet bread from the oven when she saw a large moving van and a stock truck trundling into Promise Lodge from the county highway.

  “We’ve got company!” she said, motioning Rosetta and the Kuhns to the window. “With two big vehicles like those, it surely must be Amos’s kids.”

  “Jah, they’d be moving two households of furnishings plus their horses and buggies,” Rosetta said eagerly, “not to mention Allen’s stuff.”

  “You girls go on out to meet them, and I’ll put on some coffee,” Beulah suggested.

  “Gut thing we baked some bars and coffee cake this morning,” Ruby put in as she went toward the containers on the counter. “Those Helmuth fellows and Allen can really pack away the sweets—and they’ll have drivers who’re hungry, too.”

  “This calls for a big supper tonight, with everybody here at the lodge,” Christine suggested as she put on her heavy coat and boots. “We’ll all want to catch up with Barbara and Bernice and then get the five of them settled into cabins before tonight.”

  “Ruby and I can handle the meal while you folks tend to your company,” Beulah offered. “We already have a couple of chickens in the fridge, so we’ll take some pork chops out of the deep freeze and go from there.”

  “You ladies are a marvel,” Rosetta said as she, too, put on her wraps. “Soon as Christine and I welcome our new residents, we’ll let Amos know they’re here—and we’ll get the word out about tonight’s supper. It’s a big day for Promise Lodge!”

  Christine slung her arm around Rosetta’s shoulders as the two of them stepped out through the mudroom door. She’d sensed her younger sister had been stewing about something she didn’t care to share for the past several days, so it was good to hear the excitement in Rosetta’s voice. “We’ll have to fetch the space heaters from the back storage room,” she said, “but otherwise, we’ve freshened the sheets, and the three largest cabins are ready. Have we forgotten anything?”

  “We’ll figure it out after the Helmuths and Allen come in.” Rosetta waved her arm high in the air as they approached the big trucks that were stopping in the road. “We’ll need to make a grocery run soon, because Allen, the girls, and their husbands will be joining us for meals until they can move into their new home.”

  “Hullo, you Bender sisters!” one of Amos’s twin daughters cried out as she climbed down from the extended cab of the moving van. “Trouble has arrived at Promise Lodge! And we brought a couple of cousins with us, too!”

  “Jah, you won’t believe how much stuff we had to haul out here,” her sister added with a laugh. “We’re packed so full, we nearly had to tie Allen to the top of the stock truck!”

  Christine and Rosetta laughed and broke into a jog. By the time they were hugging Barbara and Bernice, Sam, Simon, and Allen were emerging from the extended cab of the stock truck with two other young men, who were eagerly looking at the lodge and the property around it.

  “Christine and Rosetta,” one of the Helmuth twins said, “these dark-haired rascals are our cousins Jonathan Helmuth and his younger brother Cyrus. When we told them about Promise Lodge, they decided they were up for the adventure of helping us run the nursery.”

  Jonathan appeared to be around twenty-three, and Christine
was guessing his brother was closer to twenty—and they were cute enough that her girls would probably be very glad to meet them. “We’re so glad you came along!” she said, then pointed to the area behind the lodge. “We’ve fixed up those cabins you can see from here. You fellows can bunk in one of them until you figure out what you’d like for a more permanent place to live.”

  “Bet all of you are ready to be off the road,” Rosetta remarked as she hugged the Helmuth brothers. “And we’re glad you came along to join us, Cyrus and Jonathan. Promise Lodge has room to grow!”

  “We’ve got coffee perking and goodies in the kitchen,” Christine said as she reached for Allen.

  Allen hugged her and then Rosetta, seeming very happy to be back at Promise Lodge. “I’ll never turn down anything you and the Kuhn sisters whip up,” he said jovially. Then he pointed across the snow-covered produce plots. “It was a big surprise to see that the double house and the barn are up and have their roofs on—”

  “And the nursery buildings are almost enclosed, too!” one of the redheaded Helmuth twins said excitedly. “Dat will be sending a couple more trucks this way with our nursery stock—and the trees and shrubs Truman ordered—in a few weeks. He wanted us to get settled—”

  “And maybe by then the snow will be gone,” his freckled brother put in with a grin. He gazed toward the buildings that rose up near the state highway, his face alight with joy. “Wow, you folks have made a lot of progress since we left. Can’t thank you enough.”

  Christine gestured toward the Troyer place. “Allen, if you’ll go invite your dat and Mattie over for coffee, we’ll get caught up with all of you,” she suggested. She smiled at Sam and Simon, still unable to tell them apart. “Amos, Bishop Monroe, and our other two preachers, Marlin and Eli, worked most of this past week getting the buildings framed in and the shingles put on.”

  “With a big assist from Noah, Roman, and Marlin’s son Harley,” Rosetta added. “Lester Lehman and his family are to be here in a few days, so the siding and windows will be installed soon after that. We’re really excited about you kids joining us with your nursery business.”