A Simple Charity (44 page)

“Okay, then.” Meg clasped her bouquet to her chest and took a deep breath. “I guess it’s time to do this thing.”

“Yes, indeed.” Zoey stepped closer and slid an arm around her sister’s waist. “And I am here to walk you down the aisle. I know, I know, you planned to go on your own steam, independent woman that you are. But every bride needs a boost from her family. A little send-off.”

It was Meg’s turn to blink back tears. “Thank you. I was beginning to feel like I was about to walk the plank. It has nothing to do with marrying Jack and everything to do with walking down a tiled aisle in heels.”

Zoey’s chuckle echoed through the vestibule. “Silly girl.” She gave a quick hug, then linked her arm through Meg’s. “If you’re jumping ship, I’m right by your side. Sisters forever.”

“And ever.” Meg tipped her head toward her sister’s shoulder, and then, with the synchronicity of sisters and lifelong friends, they
stepped into the doorway together and began the wedding march up the aisle.

The ceremony was a new layer in Meg’s billowing cloud of happiness. Grateful for the joy welling inside her, she was very in the moment as she joined hands with Jack and exchanged vows. The pragmatic part of her recognized that their journey would be marked by sorrow and disappointment, but there was also love—a boundless sea of God’s love to keep them together and carry them over the tough times.

In preparation for the small reception, the inn had been festooned with greenery and small floral arrangements—festive yet simple, in keeping with Meg and Jack’s wishes.

Jack’s boyhood friend Skeets toasted the couple, wishing them love and happiness in five languages. “I don’t know the Pennsylvania Dutch dialect, but I’ve been told by some of my new friends here to say, ‘
Geh lessa
,’ which I think means go with it. Not a bad bit of advice for any married couple.”

Meg felt Jack squeeze her hand under the table as Skeets lifted a glass to them. “Jack, my buddy, I have to say, I never saw this coming in the days of Slip N’ Slide and action figures. By the way, I think you still have my Incredible Hulk. In any case, I love you, man, and I wish you and Meg a lifetime of love and happiness.”

“Hear, hear!” everyone chimed in, and Meg nodded her thanks, then clinked her glass of sparkling cider with Jack’s.

After a quick sip, Meg scanned the big table, wanting to soak up the friendly faces and the air, so thick with laughter and love. Skeets winked at her, and his wife, Lanie, lifted her glass in a toast. Zoey blew her a kiss, then placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder. Tate nodded as he patted the bundle in his arms, searching for the sweet spot that would soothe baby Grace. Mom and Kip smiled, beaming their support. Kat held her glass high, her eyes shining bright with hope for her baby brother’s happiness. Beside her, Gran tugged her
dangly earring, a secret signal she used to send Jack across the room when he was onstage in the school show. Meg could feel the love from Elsie and Anna, Dr. Trueherz and his wife, Celeste, and dear Fanny and Zed, who had hosted their own wedding dinner just last week. It had been Meg’s first Amish wedding, a solemn affair followed by a fine roast chicken dinner at the home of Zed’s parents, Rose and Ira. Folks told Meg the celebration was smaller than most, as a huge fuss was not made when a widow wed, but Meg and Jack had counted nearly forty guests. Meg had been grateful to be included in the family gathering.

Meg knew that she and Jack were blessed to be surrounded by this wonderful extended family. Full of thanks, she turned to her handsome husband, whose face was animated with tenderness and joy. The clang of silverware on crystal rose around them.

“Okay, Skeets.” Jack waved toward his friend, not taking his eyes off Meg. “We got this.” He tipped his face toward hers. “Love you, Megs.”

“I love you, too,” she said amid the high-pitched clamor that competed with her racing pulse. She closed her eyes against the noise and kissed her husband.

42

T
he sounds of hammers, saws, chirping birds, and conversation filled the air as men swarmed over the platform that had already been built at the site of the old carriage house. More than a hundred Amish workers had assembled from nearby church districts for the “barn raising”—the construction of the new birthing center’s outer walls and roof, which, the master builder had assured everyone, would be completed in one day.

Lugging a pot of fresh coffee just brewed in her kitchen, Fanny couldn’t help but grin at the clusters of gathered folk. Like a colony of ants, men covered the work site. They marched in line carrying framed trusses. They pounded final nails into the platform. They huddled in groups, pointing and discussing the next step. Children played over by the beech trees, taking turns on the swing and ducking in and out of the little house Zed had helped Will build with wood scraps. Under the canopy, women set up tables and benches for the dinner that would be served around the noon hour. The
large tent had been erected yesterday; however, the weather was cooperating nicely for an April day, with sunshine and a few blustery kicks of wind.

“Here’s fresh coffee,” Fanny said, approaching the serving table.

“Perfect timing,” Meg said. She opened the lid of the large thermal serving vat so that Fanny could add the fresh coffee.

In the blink of an eye, four workers were lined up with paper cups. The women stepped back as the men served themselves, sipped for a moment, then quickly got back to work.

“They certainly don’t waste much time,” Meg said. “Quite different from your average American coffee break.”

“The Amish know how to relax and have leisure time,” Fanny said. “But when there’s work to be done, there’s no time for laziness.”

Rose and Edna came over with Meg’s photo album from her honeymoon. After their wedding, Meg and Jack had flown off to the Caribbean to spend two weeks on the beach. Upon their return, they had moved in to the renovated cottage on Tate and Zoey’s land—very convenient for Meg, who had only to walk next door to help deliver a baby.

Now a handful of women clustered together to marvel over the photos of the turquoise waters.

“The color of the sea in St. Thomas is such a wonder,” said Rose. “Is the water truly that way?”

“It is, and it’s pretty warm for swimming,” Meg said, flipping a few pages to show them the coral reef. “They say it’s because the water is so clear and the bottom is mostly sand.”

The women oohed and aahed over the photos, remarking on the unusual mangrove trees, the exotic flowers, and the fancy drinks with paper umbrellas popping out of the top.

“Such a small umbrella would be just the right size for a tiny mouse,” Edna said, eliciting a round of chuckling.

Rose held up a hand, stopping the conversation. “Mind—they’re about to raise the first truss.”

A joyful silence fell over the women as the workers lifted and hoisted a huge piece of framing that had already been assembled. Fanny found that she was holding her breath as the large piece swung into the air, rising until it stood tall as a pine tree.

Such a sight! A true sign of people working together, a community assembled to help one another. Soon the hammering resumed, and everyone breathed a happy sigh.

“This is amazing.” Meg’s loose red hair glinted in the sun. “Not even an hour in and they’re already raising the house frame.”

“That will be the side wall,” Fanny said. “The master builder has men to assemble the frame in advance. I’ve seen a few barn raisings, and it’s always a wonder how everything fits together. By the end of the day, we should have a roof and four red walls.”

They had decided on red so that the building would stand out for anxious fathers or visiting doctors. The little red house down the lane. In the past few months, Fanny had given up some of her original ideas for the birthing center and accepted the design and features that the community wanted. That was the difference between this building and the old carriage house: This center was not hers; it belonged to the community.

Soon the second truss was raised, and then the third. Men straddled the rafters, hammering and hoisting boards.

Edna left to go back home and fetch the coleslaw and pickles she was contributing to the lunch. Soon Fanny and the other women would need to fire up the grills and start cooking chicken for the men. Sixty roasters! Good thing they had borrowed the big grills used in charity events.

“Mamm! Mamm,” called a young voice. Nearly every woman under the tent turned toward the young caller. It turned out to be Fanny’s Will, running up the hill. In his arms was a pitcher of lemonade,
which he gingerly tried not to spill. He brought it to Fanny. “Elsie says to give this to you.”

“Denki. And where are you headed?”

“Back to work. I’ve got to help Dat.”

Her lips tugged into a smile. Since the wedding in March, Will had started thinking of Zed as his father. “Denki. Back to work with you.”

As the boy raced off, Fanny set the pitcher on the table and reflected on how her marriage to Zed had been a good thing for their family. Tommy had taken to Zed, following him around like a little duckling. And it felt so natural for Zed to sit at their supper table and then read to the children and tuck them in to bed.

They had married quickly and quietly, after a few meetings with the bishop. Fanny would always look back fondly on the small ceremony that had included just a few family members and friends. Afterward, there’d been a supper at Zed’s parents’ house with chicken prepared by the girls and some of their friends, a celebration similar to a holiday meal. And then, their blessed wedding night.

After the children were down, they had rocked together by the fire and talked softly. Then she took him by the hand and led him into her bedroom—their bedroom—and Fanny thanked Gott for bringing her Zed. Funny, but she’d been a little nervous at first. “You’re shaking like a leaf,” he’d told her, and she’d remarked on the low temperatures outside. But after they’d slid under the covers, after the kerosene lamp was turned down, they had found each other. Oh, they had kindled a warmth that would chase away the frostiest winter chill.

An Amish man came up to Fanny and Meg, his face pale. It was Amos Fisher, whose wife, Mary, was due any day now. “Mary is in the buggy,” Amos told Fanny. “She needs your help now. I’m taking her over to the Jordans’ cottage.”

Up the lane, a single gray-covered buggy sat. A woman waved from the front seat.

“Tell her I’ll meet her there,” Meg said, raking her hair back into a ponytail. She gave Fanny’s arm a squeeze. “I got this.”

“Back to business,” Fanny teased.

As Meg headed off to care for Mary, Fanny turned back to the construction site. Which one of the tall Amish men was her husband? It was a bit hard to make him out amid the hundred or so men in similar clothing with black hats covering their heads.

Then she found him, straddling a rafter with Will beside him. He was showing their son something to do with the hammer.

She smiled as Zed drove a nail into the plank. Dear Zed. Such a good man. They were truly blessed.

I
am ever grateful to my editor, Junessa Viloria, for her gentle hand in shaping a story, her understanding of human nature, and her bright enthusiasm.

Many thanks to Dr. Violet Dutcher, whose nurturing advice and lifetime of relationships with Amish family and friends were invaluable to me. Her knowledge of Amish culture and literature is a winning combination.

And as always, thanks to the people of Lancaster County, the inspiration for these characters.

L
ANCASTER
C
ROSSROADS
A Simple Crossroads
(novella)
A Simple Faith
A Simple Hope
A Simple Charity

S
EASONS OF
L
ANCASTER
A Simple Winter
A Simple Spring
A Simple Autumn