A Wedding for Julia (16 page)

“Relax, Sharon. You sound like my
mamm.
” He’d dropped her cell phone into her lap, winked, and kissed her again
.

She placed the phone in her purse and buckled her seat belt tightly across her lap as he peeled out of the drive. It was a good thing her grandparents were nearly deaf or he would have wakened them, even if he was next door at the abandoned farm. How had he managed to get her phone back? He’d mentioned he knew one of the clerks who worked at the store. She’d love to hear the story—

James reached for the radio dial and turned it up so loud Sharon knew they wouldn’t be talking, which was fine with her. She appreciated the return of her phone, but she thought drinking and driving was unbelievably stupid. She hoped he’d had only one. Certainly one couldn’t do much harm. She’d watch him, though. If he started driving erratically, she was getting out of that truck, and she would try to take the keys with her
.

Instead of turning south onto the highway, James crossed it
.

“I thought we were going to Indianapolis,” she shouted. When they’d gone before, the trip had taken a little over an hour’s drive from her home in Monroe. She couldn’t be sure, but it seemed they were going a different direction
.

“You thought wrong, sweetheart. I have a surprise for you tonight.”

Sharon reached for the radio dial and turned the volume down so he could hear her. “I don’t want a surprise, James. I want to go to the movies and the diner. Where is everyone else?”

He grinned, turned the radio back up, and revved the engine, pushing their speed ten miles over the limit as he shrugged his shoulders
.

What was with him?

A few minutes later they pulled into a convenience store parking lot. She almost thanked him when he turned off the ignition. The silence was like a balm on her ears
.

“I need to run inside for a minute.” He hopped out of the truck, glancing left and then right as he did. “Want anything?”

“Nein.”

Walking around to her door, he opened it, leaned inside, and kissed her. Although she hated the beer aftertaste, she had to admit his kiss still had the power to send her pulse skipping
.

So she sat there hoping—like a child—that the night might improve. When she saw him walk out of the store with the six-pack tucked under his arm, her heart sank all the way past her
Englisch
blue jeans, which she’d smuggled to her grandparents, to the bottom of her shoes
.

“How did you buy that? You’re not old enough to purchase alcohol.”

“Fake ID. Wanna see it?” James grinned as he popped a top and set the remaining five cans of beer on the seat between them. The cans were still tucked into the plastic ring and cold against her arm. “You can have one if you want.”

“No, I don’t want. And where did you get a fake ID? Why did you get one? And why are you drinking while you’re driving?”

Instead of answering, James downed half of what was in the can, and then he turned toward her, his back against the door of the truck. “You know, Sharon, you’re real pretty and I like you, but you’re not going to be much fun if all you’re going to do is nag.”

She was so angry she thought the top of her head might fly completely apart. “Not much fun?”

“
Ya,
now loosen up a little. I could have brought along my
mamm
or
schweschder
if I wanted to be lectured.”

“That’s it.” Sharon released her seat belt, opened the door of the truck, snatched the remaining beer cans, and slammed the door as hard as she could. The window made a satisfying rattle when she did. “I’m taking this back inside, and I’m telling the clerk you bought it illegally.”

“You wouldn’t dare—”

She never found out if James started after her or not. Her heart thumping wildly, she’d fled into the store. She’d explained all about the fake ID to the clerk, who had stared at her as if she were one of those cartoon characters they had watched in the movie theater. He’d finally accepted what was left of the six pack—five beers still in the plastic ring—and set it on the floor behind the counter, no doubt to take home later.

Not her problem.

He didn’t look stupid enough to drink and drive. What he did in his own home was his business.

Feeling satisfied that she’d handled the situation well, she marched back outside and stared at the empty parking lot.

James had left.

Left her alone at a convenience store in Romney, Wisconsin.

Left her in the middle of the night.

Sharon kicked at another rock, glancing up as fat raindrops began to splat against the asphalt.

It was a good thing she’d had her purse slung over her shoulder when she’d hopped out of the truck. At least she had a little money and her cell phone. Stepping off the road, out of the beam of any oncoming traffic, she checked the display.

No missed calls. No messages. No reason to stop walking.

She turned the phone off, something she’d fallen in the habit of doing to save the battery. Who knew when she’d be able to charge it again?

Where was she? And why was the rain now coming down harder?

Oh, how she wished for her prayer
kapp
to cover her head. The steady drizzle against her scalp left her cold, and she was even more miserable than she had been ten minutes ago. Not to mention the ridiculous
Englisch
clothes she’d worn were clinging to her like wet laundry pinned to a clothesline.

Maybe she should call the phone shack near her parents’ home. It was late, though. No one would hear it ring. If she wanted anyone to come and fetch her, she would have to call her friend Joana. She lived two farms down from her parents. She could run down and tell them, or Joana’s father could. The thought of involving so many people caused Sharon’s stomach to flip up and over.

Maybe she could keep walking. Maybe someone would offer her a ride. Her shoes began to squish as the rain increased.

How could James leave her? And why had he been acting so strangely? She’d heard that boys behaved badly while on their
rumspringa
, but he had changed so drastically since their last evening together. He hadn’t been kind or considerate or attentive to her at all. It was almost as if he wasn’t sure he wanted her along. Why had he asked her then?

Her tears mixed with the rain and slid in rivulets down her face. She stopped under a streetlight, peering into the direction she was walking and then back at the route she had come. Surely there was somewhere she could wait out the storm, but all she saw was black-top road, and up ahead a flashing caution light. Maybe if she walked a little farther, she could figure out where she was.

She hurried through the storm toward the intersection, wrapping her arms around her middle in a futile effort to keep warm. Thunder rumbled across the sky, and the storm tossed leaves, pieces of hay, and scraps of stray garbage in front of her. At least the wind was at her back. If she had been walking directly into it, she would never have had the strength to continue.

Reaching the crossroads, she peered up at the two signs.

County Road 700 crossed the road she had been walking on for the past hour, the same road the convenience store was on, which apparently was State Road 28. But which road led back to Monroe?

There were no farm houses at this intersection, only fields stretching off in each direction. Sharon began to shake as she realized if she went the wrong way, she might end up walking all night.

Car lights again appeared out of nowhere, washing her in light and nearly blinding her. She jumped back from the intersection and into the safety of the field. The car slowed enough that she could make out the music drumming from the radio, and then it sped off.

What if they had stopped? What if they had tried to force her into the car? What was she doing out walking this road alone?

Her hands shaking so badly she resembled her
grossmammi
, Sharon huddled over her purse, unzipped it, and pulled out her cell phone. Turning it on, she waited for the signal that would tell her if she had service.

As she waited, she prayed. Finally, the screen displayed the words, “Entering service area.”

She pushed the number 3 and held it.

Number 1 was for voice messages, and she didn’t have any.

Number 2 was the preset number for James.

Number 3 was for Joana.

As her best friend’s phone rang, she remembered speaking with her mother as they had hung laundry on the line. Her mother had talked about falling, about how it hurt, and about how she wanted what was best for her.

Staring into the darkness, waiting for Joana to pick up, Sharon didn’t have any answers to all the questions bouncing around in her mind, but she did know that this was not the best her mother had in mind.

Chapter 14

T
uesday dawned sunny and crisp. Julia glanced out her upstairs window. The sky sparkled blue, trees blazed with color, and Pebble Creek glittered in the distance. It was the perfect fall day for a wedding.

Her wedding.

Was this actually happening to her? Was she ready for all the changes that would take place? Sitting back on her bed, she glanced around her room. Soon it would be
their
room. Soon everything that was hers would be
theirs
.

She ran her hand over the quilt—a double wedding ring pattern. Ada had pieced it long ago, well before her hands became misshapen by the arthritis. Julia could remember coming in from helping her father in the barn and seeing her mother sitting in the front room, quilting the layers together.

It had gone in the blanket chest at the foot of her bed, buried there with her hopes and dreams. This week they had pulled it out and aired it on the line, and last night they had placed it on the bed.

Had Ada known, years ago, that one day this moment would come? Had she actually believed God had a plan for Julia’s life and that it included an October wedding to a man she barely knew?

Julia blinked back tears which threatened to fall and reached for her Bible. This was a joyous day, not one she should begin by weeping.

It was no surprise that when she opened the old, worn book that had been hers since she was a child, it opened straight to the Psalms. Of course it would. Ada had been reading to her from that book’s one hundred and fifty chapters since she could remember. Julia often found herself searching other parts of the Old Testament for answers and relying on passages from the New Testament when she needed to feel closer to her Savior. When she needed comfort, though, when she felt joyous, or even when she was afraid—she turned to the Psalms.

She turned to them now.

Her gaze landed upon the fifth verse of the thirty-seventh chapter. “Commit everything you do to the Lord. Trust him, and he will help you.”

She could do that.

She might not know how to be a good wife, but she knew how to pray and turn things over to the Lord. She’d been doing that all of her life. How was a marriage any different?

Trusting in Him was the one thing that made sense. Marrying a man she barely knew didn’t. Even if he did seem kind and compassionate and—she allowed her mind to caress the word—loving. Trusting Caleb she could learn to do, but trusting God? She had been doing that all of her life.