Amish Circle Letters (28 page)

“I…I hadn’t thought about that,” she said softly and glanced at Menno. “Leah has the
kinner
, she won’t come help. And Rachel with Elijah…” Her voice trailed off and she waited for Menno to guide her.

He noticed her discomfort and, under the table, he reached for her hand. He was surprised that she clutched his hand, squeezing it tightly. One glance at her face told him all that he needed to know: Mary Ruth was a bundle of nerves. It dawned on him that he knew exactly why. This was a huge step for her and the realization had just hit her. When everyone left, she would stay behind for now she was his wife and the mamm to his children. She would have to take care of the house, the garden, the clothing, and the food…not just part-time, but for the rest of her life. She was scared and needed his support, needed his reassurance that she could do this and would not be compared to Martha.

Turning his attention back to Mimi, he nodded. “That would be right kind, Mimi. Maybe mid-morning if that suits?”

Menno knew that people wouldn’t be leaving for another few hours. He wished that he could take Mary Ruth aside and talk to her, to reassure her and comfort her. However, that would not be proper to disappear from their wedding meal. So, as Steve and Mimi made their way back to their circle of friends, Menno leaned over, close to Mary Ruth’s ear, and spoke in a low voice so that no one else could hear.

“Relax,” he said. “It’s all going to be fine.”

She turned to look at him, his face just inches from hers. He was so much older than her and so confident. For days, even weeks, she had been feeling as if she could conquer this task but now, as the reality sunk in, she felt the butterflies in her stomach and pounding of her heart. “I…”

“Ssssh,” he whispered. “Later. For now, enjoy your wedding meal and the well-wishes of our friends and family.” He gave her hand another squeeze and felt her fingers entwine with his. The gesture warmed his heart. She was trying. He could see that.

“Remember what you were saying the other day about love?” Melvin said, picking at his dessert plate.

Katie was seated next to him on the bench near the kitchen. The other children had finished already and were outside playing in the barn and yard. Despite the overcast skies, there wasn’t a hint of rain in the air. “You mean with the pony, Butterscotch?”

He nodded, chewing the piece of pie he had just taken in his mouth. “Ja,” he mumbled.

“What about it?” she asked, shrugging her shoulders.

“I don’t think love is anything like how you feel about a pony,” he said.

Katie frowned. “You don’t?”

“
Nee
,” he said firmly. “You feel that way about people, not ponies.”

For a moment, Katie seemed to think about what Melvin had just said to her. She knew that she loved that pony. How could he deny that? But she also knew that, when she went to visit the pony, it was much more fun and special when Melvin went with her. In fact, when Melvin had left that day, Katie had lost interest in the pony. It was Melvin who made her heart jump and her smile brighten her face. It dawned on Katie that, perhaps, in a way, she loved Melvin.

“We’re cousins now,” Katie finally said. “But we were friends first.”

“That’s true, ja,” he replied.

She frowned, still deep in thought. “One can certainly love friends, ain’t so? And one is definitely supposed to love family!”

Melvin smiled. He liked the direction that this conversation was headed. “I reckon you have a point, Katie.”

She turned to look at him. “I’d say at our age it’s right
gut
to have family-friends, wouldn’t you say?”

He reached out and touched her hand, holding it lightly in his own. “You know what, cousin? I’d say you’re right!”

They both laughed, each understanding what was being said without further words. He leaned over and knocked his shoulder against her and she returned the gesture. After the meal, they both knew that they would escape through the back pasture to the Miller’s farm to take turns riding Butterscotch and this time, despite how she felt about the pony, Katie was well aware that it was because of Melvin that she kept coming back.

Miriam saw a huddle of her
dochders
near the back door, their heads bent together as they talked quietly amongst themselves. “Trouble,” Miriam thought as she hurried over to them to find out what was brewing. When Lizzie, Leah and Rachel got together, it was important.

She was surprised to see Rachel crying. Rachel, the backbone of the family, so strong and unbending! She was a force to be taken seriously, the next matriarch of the entire family. Miriam always knew that the family could survive anything as long as Rachel was at the helm.

But now she was crying and that wasn’t a good sign. “Rachel? What’s wrong?”

She shook her head and, despite the tears, she laughed. “Nothing Mamm. Just the opposite!”

Miriam frowned. “You have some explaining to do then,
Dochder
, standing here crying at your sister’s wedding meal.”

“It’s Elijah! He’s decided to take the treatment.” She covered her face with her hands, wiping the tears away as she laughed with relief. “He told me right after the service! Said he had to try to fight it. Couldn’t imagine me marrying another man!” Again, the laughter.

Lizzie and Leah both consoled her, rubbing Rachel’s arm and her back. Miriam understood what her
dochder
was feeling: relief that her husband was going to try to survive but fear that it wouldn’t work.

“You need to pull it together,” Miriam said softly. “People will wonder.”

“Oh let them!” she said, laughing through her tears. “There is hope now. A chance. Even if it is small, I just needed that shred of hope.”

“When will his treatment start?” Miriam asked.

There was no answer to that but Rachel knew that she would call straightaway in the morning, maybe even this very afternoon if she could excuse herself from the wedding festivities. “I’ll let you know when the doctors can arrange it,” she said. “I imagine it will be soon, ja?”

Collectively, they glanced at Elijah. He looked pale and weary as he rested in a chair that Menno had set out just for him. It was clear that he was struggling to stay awake. “You best be getting him home, Rachel. It sure was
gut
of him to make the effort, but now he needs his strength for a different fight,” Miriam suggested. “And when you go with him for treatment, I’ll come stay to tend the
kinner
. Can’t have you worrying about two ends of the candle burning.”

“Oh
danke
, Mamm,” Rachel said, reaching out to embrace her mother, a rare display of affection. “I’m going to need you so if we are to get through this and survive,” she whispered into her mamm’s ear.

“If it’s God’s will,” Miriam replied. “We will all survive.”

It was late afternoon when everyone had started to leave. Even during wedding season, cows needed to be milked and all of the farm animals needed to be fed. After the last family had departed, Menno excused himself and went upstairs to change out of his Sunday suit. He, too, had chores that couldn’t wait until the morning. With the sun setting earlier, there was no sense delaying and start chores in the dark.

Mary Ruth wasn’t quite sure what to do. The benches had been put away, stored in the large grey wooden wagon in the backyard. But the rest of the furniture was still stored in the barn. The women had been kind enough to clean most of the dishes so that the kitchen was orderly. And the
kinner
had quietly disappeared, Melvin taking charge so that Menno and Mary Ruth had some time alone. She suspected that they had gone back to Leah’s after visiting the Miller farm to see the pony.

Hesitating, she walked up the stairs, hating the way that they creaked. She could hear Menno moving about the bedroom. A dresser drawer opened. A shoe fell to the floor. The door was not shut all of the way and, her hand on the doorframe, she cleared her throat to make her presence known.

“Mary Ruth?”

She peeked around the corner then quickly looked away when she saw him sitting on the edge of the bed. “I…I didn’t want to disturb you but I thought I’d see if you needed any help in the barn?”

He had been getting changed. His work shirt was unbuttoned at the throat and the suspenders from his black pants hung down by his sides. Standing up, he slid his arms into each strap and took a step toward her. In the small bedroom, he seemed taller, his presence filling the room.

Sensing her trepidation, Menno smiled gently and reached for her hand. He pulled her into the room and stood close to her, staring down into her face. He reached up and caressed her cheek with his thumb. “You were lovely today, Mary Ruth,” he said, his blue eyes staring into hers. “And now you are my wife.”

“Your wife,” she repeated. The words sounded foreign and surreal. She barely knew this man and she had promised to be his wife for eternity, until death separated them. Yet, she knew so little about him. “Menno?” Her voice sounded small in the silence of the room.

“Yes?”

She turned her eyes away, staring at anything but him. She wanted one thing very much but she was afraid to ask. Still, she knew that she needed it in order to move past feeling so afraid and timid in his presence. The words, however, would not form on her lips.

He tilted her chin up so that she had to look at him. “What is it, Mary Ruth?”

“I…” She stumbled over the words, trying to gather the courage to ask. What would he think?

“Go on,” he urged.

Taking a deep breath, she looked him square in the eye and found the strength to tell him what was on her mind. “I should like to know what it’s like to kiss you.” She paused. “To kiss my husband.”

His lips twitched and she thought he was going to smile. Had her question amused him? After fighting so hard to tell him what she wanted, was he going to laugh? Yet, she knew it was better than if he thought she was too forward or brazen. That would not have gotten the marriage off on the right foot.

To her relief, he leaned down and gently brushed his lips against hers. The kiss was light and soft, tender and sweet, his whiskers tickling her chin. There was no urgency or compromise in the kiss. It spoke of new beginnings with no hurry to end. Then, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her, her body pressed against his. For a long moment, he held her like that and she felt herself relax. She felt safe and warm in his arms. He would protect her and take care of her.

When he stepped backward, he looked down at her and she was surprised to see tears in his eyes. At first, she wondered if they were of sorrow or regret. She reached her hand out to wipe one away but he grabbed her hand and pressed his lips against her palm.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Those are happy tears. Happy tears for God bringing you into our lives. I don’t claim to understand His ways or why He took Martha when He did. But you have truly saved us and I know that God has His reasons.” He leaned down one more time to kiss her, this time on the forehead before he held her facing him and, looking deep into her eyes he heard himself say: “
Danke
, Mary Ruth. And
danke
God.”

Abruptly, he released her and took a step backward as if trying to compose himself. He seemed embarrassed by his own emotion and Mary Ruth found herself fascinated. There were so many sides to this man, so much to learn.

“Now,” he said, clearing his throat. “You asked if you could help in the barn. That’s awful kind of you, Mary Ruth, but I won’t have my
fraa
helping with chores on her wedding day. You spend your time unpacking your things,” he said, gesturing toward the corner where two small bags were waiting. “I’ll bring your hope chest in from the back room tomorrow. I’ll be anxious to see what you have inside,” he asked. “And if you need anything else to make the house feel like home, we can discuss it and plan accordingly, ja?”

He started to walk out of the room but Mary Ruth called out, “Menno?”

He stopped and turned back. “Ja?”

“I…I love you,” she said shyly.

Her words caught him off guard and he seemed to think about them for a moment. Then, with a hint of a smile and a wink, he replied, “Mayhaps. But if not, you will.” And he was gone, his heavy shoes thumping on the stairs, each one creaking under his weight, as he hurried down to the kitchen for a glass of water before heading outside to the barn.

She stood at the bedroom window, watching her new husband as he crossed the barnyard. From inside the barn, the
kinner
saw him and ran to greet him, young Emma tripping over her own feet. Menno paused and helped her up, brushing the dust from her dress before giving her a hug. He pointed to the house and said something before Emma ran toward it. He glanced up and saw Mary Ruth at the window, her eyes taking in the scene.

A warm smile flashed across his face and he lifted his hand to her. She pressed her own hand against the window, just as she heard the kitchen door open and a small voice call out, “Mamm! I need a Band-Aid please!”

Miriam sat at her kitchen table, the package of letters scattered over the table. Her fingers touched each one and her eyes skimmed over them.

Each letter, written by a different family, was written in different penmanship about their very different lives. When Miriam had started the circle letters, she had no idea how far the family would come in such a short period of time. Mary Ruth was married and wouldn’t be returning. Steve was to marry next week and, although he would not be leaving for his own farm right away, Mimi would be coming to visit on the weekends and, Miriam suspected, would most likely stay before long. John David and Ella were waiting to married in December and would move into their new farm in the spring.

Life would settle down on the Fisher farm for a while until new babies were born and older children began their
rumschpringe
. Before long, the next cycle of marriages would begin.

For the first time in a very long time, Miriam felt tired. It was not the kind of
tired
one would inevitably experience after a long day of household chores, or working in the fields only to come home and tend to the dairy barn. No, it definitely wasn’t that. It was more like a mental fatigue; the outcome of an inner struggle filled with dilemmas, difficult decisions to ponder and unavoidable acceptance of what could not be undone. But perhaps the “undoing” was not quite hers to judge or to decide, after all?