Gabriel's Bride (13 page)

The day of the wedding arrived so quickly it nearly made Rachel’s head spin. But there it was. Two weeks had passed. Her pale blue dress completed, pristine white apron starched and pressed. Her heart pounded. Her hands shook.

She took a deep breath and looked around Ruth and Abram’s room, searching for something to ease the anxiety roiling within her.

They had decided to get married at the Fishers. Or rather, Ruth had decided for her. How was Rachel supposed to protest? Aside from the looming threat of cancer, Rachel had no mother to cook her wedding feast, no home of her own to be married in.

“Rachel,
liebschen, was iss letz
?”

She turned to face Katie Rose, her breathing shallow. What’s wrong? Everything was wrong. Couldn’t she see that? “I—I need to see Gabriel.”

“He’s in the barn with the other men. You don’t want to go out there in your wedding dress.”

“
Jah
. I do.” She took off for the door, avoiding the front room where some of the women in the community had already begun to gather. She sailed through the backyard, deep gulps of fresh air fueling her flight.

She slowed as she neared the big barn doors. Fine wisps of her hair had worked free of their pins and tickled her face and neck. She brushed one back, then pressed her palms to the flaming skin of her cheeks.

“Rachel?” Gideon Fisher stepped from the dim interior of the barn, his green eyes so like his brother’s searching her face.

She took a steadying breath. Gideon’s eyes weren’t identical to Gabriel’s. Her soon-to-be husband’s were as hard as rock candy, but the younger Fisher brother had eyes of a soft mossy green filled with hope and understanding.

“Are you feeling
allrecht
, Rachel Yoder?”

“I . . . I need to talk to Gabriel.”

Gideon turned and said something to the man closest to him. Rachel hadn’t paid much attention before, but saw now that it was John Paul Fisher, the youngest of the family.

John Paul gave a quick nod, his usual smile turned upside down. He disappeared into the crowd of men and returned moments later with Gabriel in tow.

“Rachel,
was iss letz
?”

Why was everybody asking her that? Didn’t they know what was wrong? Was she the only one who could see it?

“Can . . . will you walk with me, Gabriel Fisher?”

His brow puckered into a frown, but he gave her a small nod.
“Jah,”
he said, casting a quick glance at his brothers before stepping out into the sunlit day.

He had waited until they were a goodly ways from the barn before speaking. “Is there something you want to talk about, Rachel?”

She knew that everyone in the barn was watching. They might not be able to hear, but they sure were looking at this bride desperate to talk to her intended one more time before they wed.

She stopped at the edge of the garden, looking out at the perfect rows of beans and corn. “Are you sure we are doing the right thing?” Her garden wasn’t nearly as tidy. Maybe she wasn’t cut out to be a wife. Maybe she’d never be. She had heard stories about Gabriel’s first wife, how sweet she was. A
wunderbaar
woman who took care of her family and had time to spare for her friends and loved ones. How would she be able to live up to that?

“You don’t want to be my
fraa
?”

“That’s not what I said.” What
did
she want?

“If’n you want to back out, Rachel, now would be the time. I’ll not think badly of you.”

Then what? Move to Ohio and leave Clover Ridge behind? She wasn’t sure she could bear it. In the last sixteen years, this had become her home.

Then there was Samuel and the other boys. They needed her as much as she needed them. And Gabriel’s mother and father. They treated her as much like one of the family as if she had been born into it. That was all she had ever wanted, a family like the one she had lost. It was the one prayer that God had never fulfilled. Now that she had one, it’d be mighty hard to just walk away, regardless of the nerves that shook her body from head to toe.

“Nay,”
she whispered. She turned her gaze from the pasture and the new foal frolicking there with last year’s addition. Instead she met Gabriel’s gaze in all of its intensity. She felt like she was falling, falling, falling into something she couldn’t name.

He grabbed her elbow to steady her. She must have swayed. She pressed a hand to her forehead.

“Unlock your knees, or you’ll pass out for sure.”

Rachel did as he said, wobbling a little as the blood flooded back into her limbs.

“You are positive this is what you want?”

Want?
Nay
. . . but it was what she needed, no doubt. She dipped her chin. “This is what you want too?”

“’Tis.” The one syllable clipped the air. He was certain, of that she was sure, but somehow she knew there was more brewing just beneath the surface of their plan. Yet she had no idea what it was. Her only course of action was to pray about it and know that God’s hand was at work.

“Will you pray with me?” she asked, feeling suddenly small and insignificant.

“Jah.”
He took her trembling hands into his own and bowed his head.

She stared at the crown of his black hat for a moment longer before bowing her head as well.

Something in the way he held her fingers in his own brought a calmness to her belly. It was warm and fanned out, filling every part of her as they stood there together, talking to God and just . . . being.

“Aemen,”
he said, lifting his head and meeting her gaze once again. “Better?”

“Jah.”
And it was. Somehow she felt so much more calm and in control than she had just moments before.

He reached up and brushed the tendrils of hair out of her face. “Then go let the ladies ready you up and let’s get married.”

So many of the traditions at a regular Amish wedding had been abandoned. The bride’s family was not hosting the ceremony. There would be no “going to the table” in which the eligible young men asked the unmarried women in the community to sit with them during the meal.

Somehow Ruth, despite her worry of the lump that she had found, managed to scour up enough celery for the
roasht
and creamed celery.

As Rachel and Gabriel sat in the
eck
, the special place in the corner reserved for the bride and groom, Rachel was just glad it was over. A couple hours more, then she and Gabriel could go back to his house. Tomorrow everything would return to normal. Well, sort of . . . at least they could start their bizarre life together.

Her smile felt stiff on her lips. Her cheeks hurt from forcing the pleased expression, but she couldn’t let her own doubts show. She was all too ready to climb into Gabriel’s buggy and wave good-bye.

She breathed a short-lived sigh of relief. They had done it. For all anyone knew, she and Gabriel had somehow managed to fall into a mutual attraction with the other and decided to join their lives into one.

Now all they had to do was keep up the charade for the rest of their lives. Was that even possible? All too soon, the district would suspect the truth. Regardless of how frowned upon gossip was in the community, she knew folks would be talking about why she wasn’t going to have a baby. They would look at her at church services, barn raisings, and quilting bees and wonder what was wrong with her. After all, Gabriel had proved his ability to father a child. From there it was only a short jump to the truth. That she and Gabriel Fisher had married out of convenience, and there would be no baby in her future.

The thought made her heart ache, and she cast her eyes to her husband. He faced the front, eyes on the road as he guided the horses home. Night was falling, and the foggy light of dusk made his features impossible to read. Still she wondered what thoughts were going through his mind. Was he thinking about tomorrow’s chores? Or the fact that they had just promised themselves to the other until death should part them?

Was he thinking about their bargain and how he would have no more offspring to carry on his name? Probably not. But the thought plagued Rachel.

Just in the last couple of years, her unmarried state had presented her with this deficiency. Not being married was heartbreak enough. But never having children . . . that was more than she thought she could bear.

Rachel cast a glance into the back of the buggy where Joseph and David sat side by side, each looking out the windows at the dusk-coated scenery. Rachel had spent enough time with them to know that they were unusually quiet. She supposed it wasn’t every day that your father remarried.
And
to a woman who couldn’t bake cookies without burning them.

She kissed the top of Samuel’s head as he sat between her and his father and silently vowed to try harder. Gabriel had done her a service. He had taken her into his home and allowed her to care for his children so she wouldn’t have to give up her goats and move to Ohio. When that didn’t work out as planned, he asked her to marry him. The least she owed him was properly cooked bread and edible meals.

With that very thought pinging around in her head, Rachel closed her eyes and said a small prayer that tomorrow, her first day as Gabriel Fisher’s wife would be better than the two weeks she had spent as his housekeeper.

Gabriel used his fork to peek at the underside of his serving of eggs. At least he
thought
it was eggs. Then he glanced around the table at his sons who were having the same problem with their breakfast.

Once they had gotten home last night, they unloaded from the buggy and went into the house. Matthew and Simon arrived moments later and they all gathered in the living room for a family meeting.

Gabriel explained that they were a family now, and families stuck together. Rachel would be cooking and cleaning for them, and in turn he expected them to respect her and follow her decisions. The boys nodded, their faces solemn. Gabriel knew the younger
buwe
might not understand, but Matthew and Simon were old enough. He expected them to set the example for their siblings.

They all nodded in agreement then tromped off to bed, exhausted by the day’s festivities.

Gabriel had gone to bed feeling calm and satisfied. He had helped out a fine woman and took care of his children to boot. He was sure the Lord would smile down on them.

And now this.

Rachel eyed him over the rim of her coffee mug as she took a sip. “Something wrong?”

“Nay,”
he lied, and shot Simon a stern look as he opened his mouth to protest. “What would be wrong?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She paused, then shook her head. “I’m not the best at making dippy eggs.”

You don’t say.
He cleared his throat, unwilling to add even an ounce of hurt into those bottomless brown eyes. “I like them this way just fine too.” He doused the overcooked mess with his mother’s pepper sauce and prepared for the worst. With a quick smile in her direction, he forked up a bite and chewed. And chewed. And chewed. He swallowed hard, then pointed at Simon with his fork. “How about you,
sohn
?”

Simon quickly took a bite, gave a grimace which turned quickly to a smile of pretend pleasure. “Mmm-mmm,” he said, laying it on a bit thick by rubbing his belly. Or maybe he was preparing it for the next bite.

Gabriel would have to say extra prayers tonight. He’d need to ask God to forgive him for lying to his wife and encouraging, no,
insisting
that his children do the same. But what harm was there really in a lie if it made someone special feel better about themselves and what they had to offer?

He guessed no matter what way it was split up, a lie was a lie. But he couldn’t stand the thought of the truth bringing any more tears sliding down Rachel’s sweet face.

He choked down the meal and poured the remainder of his coffee down the sink. “I’ll be in my
vatter’s
south forty if you need me.”

She nodded as the three middle boys filed past, grabbing their Igloo coolers filled with who-knew-what and tromped out the door for school. Matthew gave Gabriel a nod and Rachel a fleeting glance as he headed out the door for his day. At fifteen, Matthew was out of school and promised for half of the summer to help Gideon tend to his thriving alpacas so the soon-to-be father could help his
fraa
ready for the new baby.