Weddings at Promise Lodge

by Charlotte Hubbard

  “The way I understand it, you’ve asked to speak with Rosetta and she’s refused to talk to you,” he began.

  “Jah, that came as a real slap in the face,” Truman muttered. “There’s been nobody else for me since the moment I met her last spring—and I thought she understood that. She might as well have cut out my heart with a butcher knife.”

  Truman’s raw pain filled the cab of the truck, and Monroe hoped they could talk without upsetting the poor fellow so badly that it affected his driving. “Rosetta didn’t take up my offer to talk, either,” he said, “but her sisters gave me some insight into why she canceled the wedding. Maybe between the two of us, we can figure out a way to change her mind.”

  “I’m all for that.” Truman raked his sandy hair back with his hand.

  After a few moments of silence, Monroe continued his subtle interrogation. “A lot of this concerns your relationship with Maria—and how Rosetta perceives your feelings for her.”

  “Maria? She’s just a kid!” Truman protested. “I’ve known her since she was ten, if I remember correctly. Mamm and I have been friends with her family since they joined our church—and we’ve been keeping closer tabs on Maria and her sister now that their parents have passed on and the older kids have moved away.”

  Monroe detected a trace of defensiveness, but nothing out of line. “There’s no getting around the fact that Maria’s awfully pretty. And she seems to throw her arms around you at the least provocation.”

  Truman’s eyebrows shot up. “She does that when she’s happy. I hug her, too, but that doesn’t mean I’m romantically attracted to her.”

  “Well, the way I understand it, the two of you were alone in the bakery when Rosetta walked in,” Monroe replied. “Rosetta saw you hugging her—or her hugging you, if that’s how it was—and assumed you’d taken the opportunity to be alone with Maria for a little . . . hanky-panky before you left for work.”

  “Hanky-panky?” Truman blurted. “Maria’s like a kid sister to me. I—I had just told her about another place that wants to carry her pastries and pies, and she got so excited—”

  “And what was Rosetta supposed to think when she walked in on that?” Monroe interrupted gently.

  Truman sighed impatiently. “I’ve told her again and again that Maria’s just a friend. Rosetta needs to get over—”

  “Rosetta won’t be completely at peace until Maria is no longer in the picture.” Monroe observed the way Truman’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Now that she’s seen you two in a clinch in the bakery, she’ll have a hard time trusting either one of you,” he said. “According to her sisters, Rosetta feels a little too old to be a first-time bride, and her confidence got shot down when she saw you hanging on to a younger, prettier woman.”

  “Maria doesn’t hold a candle to Rosetta!”

  Monroe reached across the cab to rest his hand on Truman’s shoulder. “Easy now, friend,” he murmured. “I’m not trying to send you into the ditch while you’re driving. I’m just saying that your best bet for winning Rosetta back might be to find Maria someplace else to go. You’ve found her other places to sell her baked goods, after all.”

  Truman focused on the road, at a loss for a response.

  “How do you think she feels, having Maria’s apartment right next to hers? And seeing the bakery every time she milks her goats or stands at the kitchen sink and looks out the window?” Monroe asked softly. “It’s not much different from you having to deal with all that new furniture she helped you pick out, now that she’s refused to marry you.”

  “But Maria’s finally selling her pastries and pies to enough stores to be making a go of it again,” he said with a sigh. “I can’t think she’ll be happy to leave Promise Lodge before she’s even recouped the cost of moving her building. She’s only been there a couple of months.”

  Monroe smiled to himself. “I have a feeling that the faster Maria moves away, the faster you’ll be marrying Rosetta. Just saying.”

  * * *

  Thursday afternoon, Monroe rode in the backseat of Truman’s extended cab with his old friend Ralph Byler, who’d been a preacher in the Macomb district and had taken Monroe’s place as one of the new bishops. His body was tired from loading the trucks all day Wednesday, and his legs were a little cramped in the space behind Truman’s seat, but he thrummed with the anticipation of returning to Christine within fifteen minutes—with a bishop in tow.

  “I was amazed at how quickly we got all your stuff loaded,” Ralph said as he gazed at the greening Missouri countryside. “Nearly every fellow in the district turned out to help. It was a tribute to your time with us as our bishop, Monroe. It’s not the same without you amongst us—but I’m glad you’ve found the new home you needed.”

  Monroe pointed out the window on his side. “If this section of woods was gone, you’d be able to see my new house, Ralph,” he said, excitement creeping into his voice. “And two big red horse barns are nestled into the hillside of a valley that’ll make great grazing land for the Clydesdales this summer—thanks to Truman, who’s seeded and fertilized it for me.”

  Truman glanced at them in the rearview mirror. “Happy to help, Monroe. You’ve got the prettiest place in Promise Lodge—and a wonderful woman to share your new home with.”

  “Can’t wait to meet her,” Ralph said. “It’s a real honor to be the one who’ll conduct your wedding ceremony, Bishop Monroe.”

  As the truck slowed in front of the Helmuth place to turn onto the county road, Monroe’s thoughts were racing. “Let’s pull up by the lodge and stop a minute so I can introduce Christine to Ralph,” he said to Truman. “Then we’ll go on to my place and unload the horses. They’ll be ready for some water and exercise.”

  “Will do.” Truman shifted gears and drove slowly along the blacktop so he could make a wide turn into the Promise Lodge entry. “Look at this! Noah and Preacher Eli have put up your new metal sign. Looks great.”

  Monroe opened his window and stuck out his head, grinning. The new sign sported ornamental metalwork of sunflowers and wheat sheaves, and it arched higher and wider over the road than the previous one. “They did a bang-up job on it, too,” he remarked, loving the way the white metal shone in the sunshine.

  The new sign seemed as bright and shiny and sturdy as his dreams. Monroe’s heart was beating eagerly, and he realized that it was because he’d come home. Truman drove on, and he’d barely stopped the truck before Monroe was clambering down from the cab and jogging toward the lodge. He took the steps two at a time, stopping suddenly when the door swung open.

  “You’re home!” Christine said as she stepped outside. Her green eyes shone as she gazed at him. Then she glanced at the other trucks that were lumbering toward the lodge.

  “Yes, I am,” Monroe murmured, drinking in the sight of her. He’d only been gone a couple of days, but he didn’t ever intend to leave Christine behind again. “I’d like you to meet my old friend Ralph Byler. Bishop Ralph Byler. Ralph, this is Christine Hershberger—the woman I’m going to marry. Soon.”

  Christine’s face lit up with excited comprehension as she shook hands with Ralph. “I’m so glad you could come, Bishop Ralph. Welcome to Promise Lodge!”

  “Jah, we’re all glad you’re here,” said Beulah as she and Ruby came outside. Rosetta joined them, as well, appearing calm—but Monroe noticed how she kept her eyes on this circle of friends rather than looking over toward Truman’s trucks.

  “Mighty happy to meet you folks,” Ralph said. “I have to confess, though, that this’ll be the first wedding I’ve conducted, so it might not go as smooth as it does when Bishop Monroe performs the ceremony.”

  Monroe slipped his arm around Christine’s shoulders. He’d been waiting to spring this surprise for a while, and he could tell the Kuhn sisters were excited enough to go along with whatever he suggested. The joy on Christine’s face was a sight he’d remember always. “I know how much work you ladies put into wedding meals,” Monroe said, holding Ruby and Be
ulah’s happy gazes, “so it’s up to you—and Christine, of course—when we schedule the wedding.”

  Beulah clapped her hands, gazing at Rosetta and Christine. “Would it hurt you ladies’ feelings if we thawed the pies and the meat we’d intended for yesterday’s wedding to serve for this one?”

  Rosetta shook her head. “Of course not! I’m tickled that Monroe brought Bishop Ralph along—and we shouldn’t keep him waiting, ain’t so?”

  “We all know that food will be wonderful,” Christine added happily. “It’s not like we’ll be serving leftovers.”

  Ruby smiled at Christine and Monroe. “What would you folks think of a chocolate wedding cake?” she asked. “I know it’s not the traditional flavor—”

  “But we also know how fabulous your chocolate cake is,” Monroe pointed out. “If it’s all right with my bride, it’s fine by me.”

  Christine tightened her arm around his waist. She looked absolutely delighted by the way these plans were coming together. “This is Thursday afternoon,” she said, thinking aloud. “So if we took the food out of the freezer now, we could make our side dishes and have everything ready to serve by—”

  “This Saturday noon, on April eighth!” Beulah put in excitedly. “Does that suit everybody?”

  “I’m in!” Christine replied as the other women nodded their agreement.

  Bishop Ralph shook his head. “You gals didn’t blink an eye about having all the arrangements made in two days,” he marveled. “Out our way, it takes weeks to prepare for a wedding.”

  “We’ve had a lot of practice,” Beulah said with a wink. “If you fellows will excuse us, we’ve got things to do.”

  “And I have Clydesdales to pasture,” Monroe said. “Denki, ladies. You’re the best. And you, Christine, are the very best,” he said as he hugged her again.

  “No, you are, Monroe,” she whispered. “This is the nicest surprise ever.”

  His lips burned with the need to kiss her, but he managed to release his beloved and descend the porch steps with Bishop Ralph. “I owe you big-time,” he said. “I think I just scored several points with Christine for—”

  “Bishop Monroe! Hey, can we come help with your horses?” an eager boy called out from behind them.

  “Jah, Teacher Minerva says we can come, if it’s all right with you,” another boy called out. “She knows we won’t be able to pay attention to our lessons.”

  “And besides,” another boy added, “the girls got out of school for their painting, so it’s our turn!”

  Monroe turned and laughed. The three Peterscheim boys and Lowell Kurtz were all gazing eagerly at him from the porch. “Did you men fill the troughs with water and put hay in the feeders, like I asked you to?” he quizzed them.

  “Jah, Bishop, we did!” Lavern replied.

  “Finished your horse chores this morning before school,” Menno chimed in. “And we’ve been painting your fence, too.”

  “Jah, we should have it all painted white in the next couple of days,” Lowell said proudly. “We’ve been working every day after school.”

  “Fabulous! You might as well come along so my horses can get used to you,” Monroe said. “Run ahead and open the barn doors—and then stand off to the side. They’ll be in a hurry to get out of the trailers when they smell the hay and water.”

  “We want to watch, too,” Lily chimed in as she and Fannie came outside. “The schoolroom’s all but empty with the boys out. And Teacher Minerva wants to come along. It’s a big day for Promise Lodge!”

  Monroe chuckled. “As long as you ladies stay outside the pasture fence—and stay quiet—you’re all welcome,” he said. “These horses are gentle, but they’re huge. They’ll spook easily if you make any racket.”

  Fannie drew her fingers across her lips as though she was zipping them. Smiling at each other, the girls followed the boys off the porch.

  “Hey, Bishop, need some help with your Clydesdales?” Roman called over as he and Noah approached from their homes. Queenie raced around them, barking excitedly when she caught the scent of the horses.

  “The more the merrier,” Monroe replied. “If some of you fellows will go ahead of us and open the pasture gates, that’ll be a big help. I’ll meet you up there, Truman,” he called out, waving at the first big truck. “Edgar, why don’t you follow him?”

  The two drivers waved. They put their trucks in gear and eased the big horse trailers up the road. The kids, Noah, and Roman were already jogging toward Monroe’s place, tossing sticks to Queenie as she ran ahead and circled back to them so they’d throw again. It gratified Monroe that everyone was so excited about the arrival of his horses, and that the young men had worked so hard to make this big day possible.

  Monroe turned to Ralph. He was nearing seventy, but he still ran his blacksmithing business and was muscular and fit. “Ready to walk up the hill, Bishop?”

  “Jah, I need to stretch my legs after that long ride—and it’ll give me a chance to look everything over. This is quite a nice place,” Ralph remarked as he kept stride with Monroe. “Looks like you’ve got men who’re gut with their tools, to build these homes with such nice porches and siding.”

  Monroe waved at Preacher Amos as he and Mattie came from their house, and he saw Lester standing on his front porch, too. Up the hill, Preacher Marlin and Harley were coming from the barrel factory to see what was going on. “You’ll get a chance to meet all of our carpenters and the fellow who owns the window and siding business before we even get to my place. Looks like all our men heard the rumble of the trucks and are coming out to help,” Monroe said. “Hardworking people here—women and men both—with a variety of skills and businesses.”

  “Sounds like a recipe for success and happiness,” Bishop Ralph said. “Denki for inviting me to play a small part in the future of Promise Lodge.”

  * * *

  Christine grabbed her jacket and joined Minerva in the parade of folks who wanted to see Monroe’s Clydesdales. By the time they got outside, Mattie was walking up the hill ahead of them, talking with Noah’s wife, Deborah, as well as Mary Kate, who carried baby David in a basket. Gloria and Frances Lehman fell into step with them, too.

  “This is exciting!” Gloria said.

  “We’ve got to be really quiet!” Lily called back to Gloria. “No screaming, or the horses might stampede.”

  As they approached the two stock trucks, Christine heard the stomping of large hooves against the trailers’ metal floors. Truman was backing around so the gate of his truck’s trailer was between the pasture gates that Roman and Noah were holding open. Several impatient whinnies came through the slots in the trailers, and just as the other women reached the pasture fence, the Clydesdales began stepping down the metal ramp Monroe had pulled from the bottom of the trailer.

  “Those are the biggest horses I’ve ever seen,” Mattie said, awestruck.

  Christine couldn’t take her eyes from the huge, muscled brown horses as they filed into the pasture, their white-blazed noses in the air, sniffing. Their black manes quivered, and as they trotted into the pasture, the longish white hair that covered their hooves floated with each tentative step.

  “Go for the barn, Patsy,” Monroe called out, pointing toward the two red structures down the hill. “Go on, girl—we’re home now.”

  One of the mares—probably Patsy—gazed steadily at Monroe and followed the direction of his hand. With a shake of her large head, she took off at a canter, and the other horses followed her. Their hooves thundered against the ground as they negotiated the pasture’s gentle slope, some of them nipping and frisking with each other along the way.

  “That’s the most magnificent sight I’ve ever seen,” Minerva said.

  Hearing this, Monroe strode toward the fence, where the ladies and girls all stood in a row, watching the horses between the white fence planks. Christine couldn’t miss the happiness lighting his face as he glanced back at his Clydesdales. “They are magnificent,” he agreed reverently. “Can�
�t tell you how good it is to smell them again, to run my hands over their glossy hides . . . to see the intelligence in their gentle eyes as I work with them. It’s been a long four months without them.”

  Christine reached between the white planks to squeeze his shoulder. “Don’t let us keep you from your work, dear. We know you’re eager to get your horses settled in.”

  Monroe blessed her with a boyish grin. “Means a lot that you ladies came to welcome them,” he said. “I’ll see you all later—”

  “I was thinking we should have a special supper tonight so everyone can welcome Ralph,” Christine suggested.

  Monroe stood absolutely still, gazing raptly at her. “Denki for that fabulous idea, sweetheart. I’ll spread the word.” He glanced toward the gate as Truman drove down the hill and Edgar finished positioning the second trailer. “Gotta go. Now that the mares are unloaded, the stallions and the geldings will need a little more attention. You know how it is with guys.”

  Christine and the other women laughed. Standing on her toes on the bottom slat of the fence, she leaned forward to watch Monroe pull the metal ramp from the underside of the second trailer.

  “Easy, boys,” he repeated as he approached the trailer gate. “Mind your manners, now. Folks are watching you.”

  When he opened the gate, three stallions bolted into the pasture with whinnies and snorts. They sniffed the ground, saw the mares eating hay from the round metal feeders between the barns, and took off at a gallop that made the ground tremble. “My word, these horses are even bigger!” she exclaimed.

  “Not a breed for a short man to work with,” Mattie remarked beside her. “You can see how comfortable Monroe is around them, though.”

  Maybe he’d heard Mattie talking, and maybe he just felt inspired when three geldings came out of the trailer and surveyed their new domain. Monroe whispered something to the nearest Clydesdale, stroking its thick brown neck. The horse nickered eagerly and gracefully knelt on its front legs. With a secretive smile lighting his face, Monroe slipped out of his boots.