Amish Circle Letters (27 page)

“You are supposed to spend your wedding night here,” Miriam said, her voice full of reproach. “You always have to do things your own way, don’t you?”

“Mamm, please stop,” her daughter answered, rolling her eyes.

“I just don’t see why you couldn’t have waited until spring,” Miriam snapped. “More and more couples are doing that, now! It would have been more proper to the memory of Martha!”

“Mamm!”

Mary Ruth spun around, tired of hearing the criticism. Her mamm had never been so vocal with displeasure over anything. It was beginning to grate on Mary Ruth’s nerves, especially since she knew that it was not proper for her mamm to be so negative about the wedding.

“You know the reason why,” she said. “The
kinner
need a mamm. A real mamm. Besides, I’m working there anyway. It wouldn’t be proper to continue that arrangement. People would talk.”

“Oh, they are talking already and that doesn’t seem to bother you none!” Miriam said, her hands on her hips.

“Then let them talk,” Mary Ruth said dismissively. Three more days and this would all be behind her. No more idle gossip. No more dealing with her mamm. “Their gossip speaks more about them than it does about me.”

Miriam sighed. There was no use fighting Mary Ruth. After all, in three days, she would be married to Menno Yoder, whether Miriam liked it or not. Accept it, she told herself. Certainly Mary Ruth would encounter bumps in the road like any other new bride. She’d need her mamm then for advice. “I reckon you’re right, Mary Ruth.”

“Now,” Mary Ruth said, taking charge of the situation. “Are we certain we will have enough food?”

Once again, they went over the list of who was bringing what food to the wedding meal. Unlike a regular wedding with 400 people attending, the fact that this was Menno’s second marriage meant that there was less involvement from the community. Mary Ruth’s family would attend as would Menno’s siblings that lived nearby. Most of the church members would come, too. However, if there was another wedding on the same day, it would take precedence. Mary Ruth figured that 200 people would attend, possibly 250. By Amish standards, it was a smaller wedding. For that, she was grateful. She was nervous enough about marrying Menno Yoder, a man she had only just begun to know. It took some pressure off of her that the celebration and festivities would be tempered down a bit.

The sky was overcast on Tuesday morning. Mary Ruth hadn’t been able to sleep. It was her last night staying at Leah’s. Despite her mother wanting her to stay at home, Mary Ruth had refused, saying that it felt less like home anymore and besides, she argued, she didn’t want to be worried about getting to the wedding service on time. Her mamm and daed’s farm was almost a twenty-minute buggy ride away from Menno Yoder’s place.

It was just like a regular church service. She hadn’t been to the house since the previous week and she was pleased that the
kinner
and Menno had kept it spotless. The furniture was moved out and, in its place, were the familiar church benches, lined up in such a way that the men would sit on one side and the women on another, facing them.

The service opened with singing. One of the men started the hymn, singing the first syllable of the hymn in a long, drawn out singsong manner. The rest of the congregation joined in. Mary Ruth found herself mouthing the words but no sound came out. She was nervous, her hands shaking as she realized that, in less than three hours, by the end of the service, she would be Menno Yoder’s wife.

If she had ever doubted herself and the decision, this was the moment.

Her hands felt sweaty and she wondered how pale her face looked. It was hot in the room and she glanced at one of the windows. It was opened but she felt no breeze. For a brief moment, she contemplated getting up and stepping outside. She needed air as her head felt light and dizzy.
What am I doing,
she asked herself.

Time seemed to stand still. The singing was still on the first verse. There were five more verses to sing. She wanted to shift her weight on the bench but worried that people would notice her and think she was fidgeting. Only children fidgeted and certainly not young women dressed in blue for their wedding day.

She looked up and glanced around the room.

He was watching her, his hand touching his chin just above his whiskers. There was a look of concern on his face. Menno must have been able to read her mind, she thought. When their eyes met, she saw him nod just ever so slightly and gesture with his hand that she should relax.

And so it worked. She took a deep breath and exhaled, not caring whether or not the women seated along side of her had noticed it. When she looked back at Menno, he gave her a soft smile then directed his attention back to the front of the room. Mary Ruth watched him for just another moment, feeling a tug at her heart. His attentiveness and ability to read her emotions helped her remain strong.
He is a right gut man
, she told herself.
God led me to Menno. It is His will that brought us together.

It was just after eleven when the bishop stood before the congregation. He slowly looked around the room before he asked Menno and Mary Ruth to rise and join him at the front. Her knees felt weak but she knew that she would be fine, if she could only make it to the front of the room and stand beside Menno.

The bishop cleared his throat and leveled his gaze at Menno as he began to enunciate the wedding vows. “Can you confess, brother, that you wish to take this our fellow-sister as your wedded wife, and not to part from her until death separates you, and that you believe this is from the Lord and that through your faith and prayers you have been able to come this far?”

Menno seemed to stiffen at the phrase
until death separate you
but he lifted his chin and loudly said, “Yes.” His voice was strong and resonated throughout the room. There was no doubting his conviction in this decision.

The bishop turned his attention to Mary Ruth. “Can you confess, sister, that you wish to take this, our fellow-brother as your wedded husband, and not to part from him until death separates you, and that you believe this is from the Lord and that through your faith and prayers you have been able to come this far?”

She bit her lip and nodded her head. The word seemed stuck in her throat. But no one spoke until she finally forced out a soft “Yes” in response to the bishop’s question.

“Since you, Menno Yoder, have confessed that you wish to take our fellow-sister to be your wedded wife, do you promise to be faithful to her and to care for her, even though she may suffer affliction, trouble, sickness, weakness, despair, as is so common among us poor humans, in a manner that befits a Christian and God-fearing husband?”

Menno did not hesitate to respond, “Yes.”

Once again, the bishop turned back to Mary Ruth. “And you, Mary Ruth Fisher , you have also confessed that you wish to take our fellow-brother to be your wedded husband. Do you promise to be faithful to him and to care for him, even though he may suffer affliction, trouble, sickness, weakness, despair, as is so common among us poor humans, in a manner that befits a Christian and God-fearing wife?”

She glanced at Menno. He was staring straight ahead, the line of his jaw taunt as he waited for her response. “Yes,” she said softly. She noticed that he relaxed ever so slightly.

The bishop took one step back and said, “Extend your right hand to each other.” When they did so, he covered their hands with his and said, “The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob be with you and help you come together and shed His blessing richly upon you. You may go forth as a married coupe. Fear God and keep His commandments.”

And they were married.

Mary Ruth felt weak and tired. Her chest hurt and she realized that she had been holding her breath for what seemed like hours. Now, she could exhale properly and look at Menno, her husband. When she did, she saw a tear in his eye and a moment of panic rushed through her.
Was he regretting the decision already?

He smiled at her and squeezed her hand. There was no marriage kiss or even an embrace, but despite the fact that the bishop was calling for a final prayer, Menno took a second to lean down, her hand still clenched in his, and, ever so softly, he whispered into her ear, “
Danke
Mary Ruth…my sweet wife.”

Mimi had witnessed the gesture from Menno and something in her heart instantly warmed. Despite the whispers among the community, she sensed a deep emotional bond between Menno and his young bride. When Menno whispered into Mary Ruth’s ear, Mimi had felt her own tears come to her eyes. She was pleased that Menno had found companionship again and prayed that it would turn into a love as deep as what she knew he had felt with Martha.

“Soon it will be your day,” someone teased behind her back.

Mimi turned around and saw her friend Priscilla. “Oh ja, and you, too, no?”

Priscilla laughed. “Ja,” she said, her eyes roaming the room for her future husband, Stephen Esh. They, too, had just been announced and their wedding was in December. Though older than Priscilla, Stephen Esh had not courted any other Amish woman. When Priscilla had turned sixteen, he was the first man to escort her from a singing and had made certain that his intentions were known to her from the beginning. It was as if he had been waiting for her all along.

Mimi sighed, watching Priscilla and Stephen’s silent communication. “It’s funny how things work, ain’t so?” When Priscilla turned around to look at her, Mimi continued. “Last wedding season, I thought I’d never find the right man to marry. I didn’t even know Steve Fisher then. Now, next week, I’m to become his wife.”

Priscilla tilted her head and thought about that. “The Lord brought you together, that’s for sure and certain.”

“That He did,” Mimi agreed.

She turned to look for Steve and saw that he was talking with her cousin Jonas. She watched him for a few minutes, trying to remember when she had first seen him at her daed’s store. There had been something about him that had struck a chord with her, something that had made her decide to take a chance and call him to pick up the glass for his broken window. Her daed was usually the one that would make such a call. But not that time. In hindsight, it was truly the hand of God that had given her the strength to make that call. It was God who had guided Steve to not pursue other women. Instead, it was as if he had been waiting for the past ten or so years just for her. For a moment she felt truly overwhelmed.

She excused herself from Priscilla and started walking over to Steve. She needed to be near him, to talk to him. She was counting down the days until their wedding and was envious that, unlike Mary Ruth, she would not be able to live with him right away. Of course, most first marriages were that way. The bride lived with her parents until the house was ready to be occupied. Even Priscilla would not live with Stephen Esh until closer to spring when he had the farmhouse ready for occupancy.

Of course, on the weekends, the newly married couple would be together, again usually staying at the mother’s house. Mimi knew that she would go to Steve’s parents house, instead, since he needed to tend to their dairy barn over the weekend. She was looking forward to those mornings when she would wake up next to her new husband before the sun rose. Together, they would bundle up and head outside to walk down the lane and cross the street. In the darkness, they would light the lanterns in the barn and begin the tasks of feeding, watering, and milking his small herd of cows. That sounded right
gut
to her.

Later in the evenings, they would hitch the horse to the buggy and go visiting. Typically, young married couples might even stay overnight at their siblings, aunts, or uncles homes during those first weekends. Mimi was relieved that they wouldn’t have to do that. There was a benefit to becoming the wife of an already established dairy farmer.

He smiled at her as she approached. “Did you have a chance to visit Mary Ruth and Menno, then?” he asked.

“Without you?” She laughed at him. “I wouldn’t do such a thing, Steve Fisher !”

A sheepish look crossed his face. He had forgotten. As an engaged couple, they did certain things together as if they were already married, including approaching the corner table where Mary Ruth and Menno sat, accepting their meal from attendants and greeting the guests who went to visit them and offer their congratulations. Everyone had to visit the table in order to spend a moment with the newlyweds. In most cases, they went as a couple. Even unmarried Amish woman over the age of 16 would pair up with a young man to walk, hand in hand, to the table to express their warm wishes.

“We should go then, ja?” He touched her elbow and guided her through the people toward the back of the room where the Yoder’s were seated.

Mary Ruth was picking at her food, simply pushing it around her plate. It was clear that she hadn’t tasted anything on her plate. Not even the wedding cake that had been served to her.

She seemed quiet and uptight, timid and withdrawn. Her face was pale and her eyes large with worry. That was not the Mary Ruth that Steve had grown up with. Menno, however, was much more relaxed and greeted Steve and Mimi with a warm smile.

“Congratulations,” Steve said as he reached to shake Menno’s hand. He repeated the greeting to his sister.

“And to you,” Menno said. His expression and demeanor reflected how he felt: comfortable and pleasant, the complete opposite of his new bride. “We will look forward to attending your wedding service next week.”

Mary Ruth remained quiet but managed to force a smile at her brother and Mimi.

“I’m sure your sisters will come tomorrow to help ready up the place,” Mimi said. “But I’d be happy to stop by to assist if you’d have a care.”

Mary Ruth blinked as if not quite understanding what Mimi had said. Then in dawned on her. Typically, the bride was married at her parents’ house. In the morning, the bride and groom helped the parents clean up from the wedding festivities. Since they had held the wedding service at Menno’s home, there would be no one to help tidy up the dishes and reorganize the furniture.