Meek and Mild (46 page)

“ ‘And whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by him.’ ”

Mose put one finger on the page open on the table.

“This is what the apostle Paul wrote to the believers in Colossae, and his words are of equal guidance to us.” He paced a couple of steps away from the preaching table and scanned the assembly. “I do not make light of the differences of opinion among us, even as we are called to be one body. I urge peace and unity above all else, just as Paul did two thousand years ago. On the matters which confound us—and I do not believe I must list them now—I seek the wisdom of bishops in other districts. I seek the word of Christ, that I might share it with you richly. Your part is to grant me patience and continue to live in love one toward the other. Then we will know the peace of God together.”

Clara hoped Mose would agree to marry her and Andrew. These were the sort of humble words she wanted to attune her heart to on the day she committed to love Andrew for the rest of their lives.

Mose did not close the door on change. Neither did he swing it wide open. He would be a wise leader. Clara would be glad to see her children grow up under his teaching.

Her children
. What an odd sensation it was to permit herself to think those words without fright.

T
he bride in her new blue dress paled against the charm Andrew saw in Clara’s face. Clara wore the same color, starched and unsoiled, with a sparkling white apron. Andrew wondered if she would stitch another new blue dress for their wedding or choose purple or a darker blue. On the last Thursday in November, Peter Troyer and his attendants sat in three chairs facing Ruth Kaufman and her attendants at the front of the church. Directly across from Clara, Andrew watched her eyes, turning over in his mind the question of how quickly Clara would want to marry.

Soon, he hoped.

They could marry here, in the Flag Run Meetinghouse, where her parents had wed.

Andrew heard little of the sermons, but there would always be another sermon. In a white
kapp
, Clara’s head tilted slightly toward Mose Beachy as he preached, but her eyes seemed to look beyond him as if boring through the meetinghouse wall. Was she also thinking about their wedding?

When the wedding party began to shift position, Andrew realized Mose had made the statement that would transition the worship service into the wedding ceremony.

“If anyone here has objection, he now has opportunity to make it manifest.” Mose paused and looked at the wedding couple. “I hear no objection. If you are still minded the same, you may now come forth in the name of the Lord.”

The bride and groom held hands and stood before Mose. With earnest voices, they promised love and loyalty for the rest of their lives.

Andrew’s gaze moved back to Clara, who now caught his eye.

Clara’s lips turned up. Anyone else would think she smiled in gladness, hearing her friend pledge her future. Andrew knew that smile was meant for him.

“I don’t want to wait,” she told him as soon as the wedding was over. “Talk to my father.”

“Today?” Andrew said. “Now?”

“He’ll give us his blessing.”

“You’re sure?” Andrew glanced at Hiram Kuhn.

“Aren’t you?” Clara said. “What are we waiting for?”

Andrew nodded. This was their congregation. They belonged here. Speculation had nothing to do with when or where they married.

“I want the Hostetlers to come,” Clara said. “I can’t imagine getting married without Fannie.”

“We’ll ask Mose.”

Mose Beachy said I can have whomever I want to stand up for me
.

Fannie read Clara’s orderly handwriting on the crisp pale blue paper a week later.

And I want you. Please say you’ll do it
.

Fannie’s eyes filled. Of course she would do it. After all, Clara had been her attendant when she married Elam. Fannie did not imagine an Old Order wedding was much different than a Conservative Amish Mennonite wedding.

We’ve decided not to wait any longer than we have to for the sake of planning and sewing the dresses. The banns will be read on Sunday, and we’ll marry two days after Christmas. My
daed
and Rhoda seem relieved but pleased
. Daed
gave his blessing almost before Andrew finished asking for it. I’m sure they will come to see how dear Andrew is. Hannah is the most excited, as I’m sure Sadie will be when you tell her
.

A tear dropped on the page just as Elam came in the back door.

He paced to the stove and peered into the coffeepot.

“The
kaffi
should still be warm.” Fannie wiped her eyes with the back of one hand.

Elam gestured at the letter in her hand. “Bad news?”

Fannie shook her head and smiled. “Just the opposite. Clara and Andrew have made their plans. She wants me for an attendant.”

“Then you must do it,” Elam said.

Fannie felt him watching her and looked up to meet his eyes. “Do you remember, Elam?”

“Remember what?”

“When we decided to marry? When we told our families? When everything was ahead of us like a ripe, abundant harvest? When God’s will was a blessing so full that we could hardly stand it?”

Elam broke the gaze and poured the last of the coffee into a cup, the slosh of the liquid the only sound in the room.

“I remember,” he finally said.

“We dreamed of so much,” she said.

Their arms and hearts and minds were entwined in those days. Seven years later they orbited each other on elongated paths that spun each other out for long distances before drawing near again. In those days Elam would have caught her hand in the kitchen before reaching for the coffeepot. Now, wordless, he clinked a spoon in the sugar bowl. In the void between them, Fannie heard the granules slide off the spoon and drop into the lukewarm liquid.

“Elam,” she whispered.

He hesitated but met her eyes again.

“Will we always be this lost?”

He stirred his coffee.

Elam was a good man, just as good as the day Fannie married him. He might yet get past his disappointment that God’s will collided with his own dreams, just as Fannie might yet find relief from the ache that plagued her.

He put his spoon in the sink. “No. God willing, no.”

Hope flickered in her chest. Fannie moved toward Elam and laid a hand on his arm. He did not pull away. His hand grazed hers on the way back to his coffee cup.

Sadie was spinning slow circles as she came in from the dining room.

“Have you told her?” Elam asked Fannie.

“Told me what?” Sadie steadied herself on a chair.

Fannie could see Sadie’s eyes took a few seconds to come into focus. In fine weather Fannie sent Sadie outside for her determined dance with dizziness, but in early December the weather was unpredictable.

“I got a letter from Clara,” Fannie said. “She’s getting married.”

Sadie’s eyes widened. “To that man who came when baby Catherine was born?”

“That’s right. Andrew.”

Sadie drew in a long, excited breath. “I liked him!”

Fannie laughed. “Clara will be glad to hear that.”

“Are we going to the wedding?”

“Yes.”

“All of us?”

Fannie glanced at Elam.

“Yes,” he said, “all of us.”

“Did Clara send me a new story?”

“Not this time,” Fannie said.

“I want to write her a letter,” Sadie said. “I want to tell her that I’m very happy she’s going to marry Andrew, but I still want her to send me stories.”

“I think it would make Andrew very happy if she did.”

“Good. Are we going to go see
Grossmuder
for supper?”

“My goodness, you’re full of questions today.” Fannie slid Clara’s letter back into its envelope.

“Well, are we?”

“We’d better,” Fannie said, “because I promised to bring the biscuits and the green beans.”

“I want to help make biscuits!” Sadie slid a chair across the linoleum to her favorite helping spot at the counter. “Can I give baby Catherine one of my dolls?”

“If you’d like to,” Fannie said, “but she’ll have to be a little older to play with it.”

“I’ll teach her to play.”

Her daughter’s wide-open heart was fresh every day. It pained Fannie to think how much of it she had missed in the months of her melancholy.

In the late afternoon they packed up the biscuits and the green beans and Sadie’s favorite doll, and the three of them rode in the buggy to the Hostetler farm.

Sitting in the same rocker where she had held all her babies, Martha put a finger to her lips when they entered the house.

“Is she asleep?” Fannie whispered.

Martha nodded.

The bundle in Martha’s arms seemed already to have doubled in size since the night of her frightening birth. Every time Fannie saw her tiny sister, the change in appearance astounded her. With a look warning Sadie not to wake the baby, Fannie scooped Catherine out of her mother’s arms and inhaled the intoxicating new baby scent. These days Fannie’s hips easily found the automatic sway that had soothed Sadie a lifetime ago. She planted a delicate kiss on Catherine’s forehead.

Martha stood up and smoothed her apron. When she paused to stand beside Fannie and admire the sleeping infant, Fannie turned her head and kissed her mother’s cheek as well.

How rich she was in love.

“Fannie is coming?” Rhoda blinked at Clara.

“I can’t imagine getting married without her.” Clara stacked her plate on top of Rhoda’s and took them both to the sink. Hannah and Josiah were in school, and Mari was napping. Her father was gone all day with a couple of other farmers, already beginning to plan for spring. It had been only Rhoda and Clara for a simple quiet lunch. With only a few weeks until the wedding, nearly every conversation Clara had found its way to wedding details. Without acknowledgment or explanation, Rhoda had warmed to Clara once again.

“What about Wanda,” Rhoda countered, “or Sarah? You have many friends who would love to be an attendant at your wedding.”

“I asked Sarah,” Clara said. “But Fannie—if I had to, I would change the date in order for her to be there. Bishop Beachy has given his approval.”

Rhoda looked away, picking up a napkin to fold. “I would hate for there to be any awkwardness on your wedding day.”

“Why should there be?” Clara said, though she wanted to say,
How could anything be more awkward than these last few months?

Rhoda went to a drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper. “I’ve got a list. Maybe it will help you.”

Clara took the paper, which had two columns. On the left was a list of tasks—the
Forgeher
to usher, waiters,
roasht
cooks, potato cooks, tablecloths,
hostlers
to care for the horses. On the right, names matched up with every effort required for a traditional Amish wedding.

“Many people will want to help,” Rhoda said.

“You don’t think they’re worn out from all the other weddings this season?”

Rhoda put a hand against Clara’s cheek, a gesture reminiscent of the first time she ever touched her new stepdaughter. “This is
your
wedding. Of course people will want to give you a lovely day.
I
want to give you a lovely day.”