A Wedding for Julia (10 page)

Julia didn’t mention the conversation to her mother or anyone else. She ate a little cold ham, helped to put up what was left of the food, and stayed close to Ada for the remainder of their time there. The ride home was pleasant in the fall afternoon, but Ada began to shiver next to her on the buggy seat, so Julia called out to her mare and pulled up on the reins. Missy slowed immediately. Once Julia had stopped the buggy, she hopped out to retrieve a blanket from underneath the backseat. It hadn’t been cold enough to need one since winter, but Ada plainly could use one now.

“
Danki
.”

“
Gem gschehne
.” Julia positioned the blanket until it fit snugly around her, and the image flashed through her mind of Anna, David’s wife, tucking a quilt around her baby. In so many ways, on so many occasions, Ada was now like a child.

They were silent except for that brief exchange as they continued their journey home. The quiet was peaceful and comforting and allowed Julia to comb through Caleb’s words again.

When she’d helped her mother up the stairs, changed her clothes, settled her into her bed, and fed her some soup, she thought to darken the room in the hopes Ada would go to sleep early. The day had worn her out, and Julia wondered if they should have foregone the church service and had their own Bible study at home instead. In such cases, Bishop Atlee was happy to stop by the next day to pray with them. Julia had long suspected it was also his way of checking to see if the people under his care needed anything else in the way of ministering to.

She reached out to pull down the shade. The sun had set, but there was still light outside the old house’s window, and she wanted her mother to rest. She tugged on the cord of the shade, but Ada touched her arm, causing her to pause with the shade half closed. The light from outdoors gently bathed the room.

“This is the day the Lord has made, Julia.”

“Ya,
mamm
. It is indeed.”

“And we rejoiced.” Her
mamm
appeared so frail, so small against the white pillowcase. Something in Julia’s heart threatened to tear.

“We did.”

“I’m glad.”

The words of Psalm 118 weren’t lost on Julia. She’d heard them every Sunday since she was a wee
kind
.

“I know you are.” She bent and kissed Ada’s cheek—soft, weathered, and worn. “I am too.”

She pulled down the shade and a gentle darkness blanketed the room, though a small amount of light was still visible through the open door from the hall.

“What will you say to Caleb?” Ada’s hand plucked at the quilt that had been covering her bed longer than Julia could remember. “How will you answer him?”

Julia didn’t bother to ask how her mother knew.

“I haven’t decided.”

Ada patted the bed, so Julia sat.

“How would you have me to answer?”

“He’s a
gut
man, yes?”

“He seems to be.”

“Maybe
Gotte
has sent him to us in our time of need.”

Julia thought of what Caleb had said, of his prayer asking for a
freind
. She shrugged and remained silent. She expected Ada to spout a Psalm, maybe 145 or 139. They were both favorites. Instead, a smile tugged at her mother’s lips, one Julia could barely make out in the light from the hall. Ada’s next words caused her to laugh in spite of the weariness spreading through her limbs.

“He does need a haircut, though. If my hands weren’t so bent, I’d sit him in a kitchen chair and do it myself.”

“I remember when you would cut
dat
’s hair.”

“Back when he had some on top, it was a twice-a-month chore.”

Julia stared down the hall, as memories of her
dat
and then Caleb flooded through her mind and then through her heart. She wasn’t surprised at what her mother said next.

“Go read your Bible,
dochder
.”

“Yes,
mamm
.”

She was nearly out the door again when her mother spoke from the bed.

“Read the story of Isaac and Rebekah. Genesis twenty-four.”

An unusual selection, one Julia couldn’t remember her mother ever recommending before. Maybe she’d take her Bible and a cup of tea to the garden. There was enough light yet. Maybe that was exactly what she needed after a day with not enough answers and too many unexpected twists.

Chapter 9

S
haron crept back to her house as the eastern sky lightened to pink. It was too close to dawn. Her father would surely be up and working. Her father would see.

Should she go in the front or risk sneaking in the back? Either way she was bound to be caught and there would be a scene. Though the morning was cool, she wiped at the sweat beading underneath her hair.

Her hair! She’d forgotten all about her
kapp
.

Ducking back behind the hot water shed, she hastily braided her hair and pinned it back into a bun before covering the chestnut mass with her
kapp
. James loved her hair. He’d told her so again last night…or was it this morning? Warmth heated her cheeks as her mind flipped through the memories. The evening had been worth it, even if she did wind up in trouble.

And she’d do it again. There was no doubt in her mind she would do it again.

Going to Indianapolis, eating in a real restaurant, seeing a movie, and driving in the old truck with her hair down and her hand out the window—for the first time in her life she had felt careless and free.

She wanted to feel that way every day.

She did not want to feel like a twelve-year-old sneaking home after having skipped school.

Glancing left and then right, she ran toward the front steps.

Her
mamm
would be in the kitchen making breakfast, and the boys would be up readying for school. Better to enter from the front, and maybe she could sneak up the stairs and into her room. She crept through the front door, which was never locked. The smell of coffee from the kitchen almost persuaded her to change her plans. Coffee would be good, but her mother would notice she was wearing the same clothes she’d worn to last night’s singing.

Sunday clothes on a Monday?

Nein
.

She needed to go upstairs and change. Besides, the
Englisch
clothes she’d worn to the movies were still stuffed in her bag. Best to go to her bedroom first, the room she shared with her baby sister, Ruthie.

She almost made it.

But she stopped to look out the window that was positioned halfway up the stairs. Her brother Jonas was walking from the barn to the field. He looked so happy, almost as if he were whistling. At six thirty in the morning? What could he possibly be so happy about? Why was he content within their community and faith when she wasn’t?

Shaking her head, she stepped back to continue up the stairs, and that was when she forgot to avoid the middle of the step. Nearly all of them creaked.

Her mother had been walking from the kitchen toward the front door to throw out some water on the flower bed. When she heard the squeak, she detoured around to the stairs, thinking it was one of the boys, but instead she saw Sharon.

Their eyes met, and Sharon was certain that her mother knew. What Marion couldn’t tell from Sharon’s disheveled appearance, she would guess.

The question was, how much would she share with Sharon’s father?

Marion didn’t bring up the matter until they were hanging the second load of laundry. The breakfast dishes had already been done, the boys were off to school, and Ruthie was playing in the leaves at their feet. Sharon’s little sister was nearly four, and if there was one thing she’d miss when she left home, it was the little tyke with curly hair who looked at her as if she were perfect.

“What you did was wrong, Sharon.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.” Marion held up one end of the sheet while Sharon walked the other end down the line and pinned it.

Laundry for two adults and seven children was an enormous task. One line alone was completely filled with Ruthie’s clothes. Sharon’s little sister was adept at making a mess. Two sets of dresses and aprons a day was not unusual for her. They would be lucky to be finished with the laundry by the time the boys returned from school.

It was one of the reasons her parents had not pressured Sharon to find a job. Her mother could use all of the help her older daughter provided. At seventeen, no one was in a hurry to see her leave, though there had been several discussions about settling down and marrying when the right man came along. Sharon’s mind drifted to James, and she had to ask her mother to repeat what she’d just said.

“You told us you were going to the singing.”

“We did.”

Her mother wagged a finger at her, a clothespin in one hand and the other hand planted on an ample hip. When had her mother gained so much weight? When Sharon was young, she’d been thin and beautiful. She still was beautiful, but—

“We’re only having this conversation alone if you speak truthfully. I still plan on speaking with your
dat
, but things might…” She took the clothespin and attached it to a pillowcase. “Things might go better if you aren’t in the room at the time. I’ll speak to him tonight after dinner, and I’ll bake his favorite dessert too. Soften him up some.”

“Oh,
mamm
. What difference does it make? He’s going to blow the hat off the top of his head either way.”