The Amish Bride (6 page)

He was as silent as the night was dark. I tried to match his thoughtfulness, but I finally couldn’t stand it any longer. It wasn’t like him to be so serious.

“Talk to me, Ez.”

“I don’t know what to say.” His voice was flat, but then he smiled at me, flashing his killer, gazillion-dollar grin. The one that reminded me that out of all the girls in Lancaster County—Amish, Mennonite, and
Englisch
—he’d chosen me, Ella Marie Bayer. “Let’s talk more after the singing.” He turned the horse into the Benders’ driveway.

As much as I enjoyed being with Ezra, singings weren’t my favorite thing. The Amish girls in Ezra’s district looked at me funny, and I always felt that they were probably talking about me behind my back. Even though I would wear my most conservative dresses, the printed fabric and the round shape of my head covering, compared to solid fabrics of
their clothes and the heart shape of the Lancaster Amish
kapps
, always gave me away.

Worse, it was as though everyone pretended I wasn’t there, as though Ezra and I weren’t together. Sure enough, when he parked the buggy in the line by the barn, a girl called out to ask if he’d brought anyone, even though she could clearly see me sitting right there next to him!

“
Ya
.” He kept his head down as he spoke, but even in the faint light I could see he wasn’t smiling.

T
he singing was in the Benders’ shed, which had been cleaned from the cement floor to the high rafters. The host family had placed propane heaters strategically around the room to make it warm and cozy. Long tables and wooden benches had been arranged, and the boys sat on one side and the girls on the other. Ezra and I both faced forward at our separate tables, straight across the dividing aisle from each other, me on the left with the girls and him on the right with the boys. I had the urge to reach out and hold his hand, but I could only imagine what the Amish girls would say about me then.

As the songbooks were passed around, a young woman named Ruth Fry walked in with a group of other girls. She spotted Ezra and sat one row in front of me, shifting in her seat so that she was facing him directly. She and her friends whispered and giggled. Ezra grinned at me but didn’t say anything. She was the little sister of Ezra’s sister-in-law Sally, and it was no secret that Ruth had been crushing on Ezra for years. I’d had no idea she was visiting from Ohio right now.

The chaperones milled around in the back of the barn as we got settled, putting out snacks and drinks. I heard my cousin Ada’s laugh and turned around. Sure enough, she and her husband, Will, Ezra’s older brother,
were in the back, by far the youngest of all the adults. I tried to catch her eye to give her a wave and a smile, but before she saw me I realized Ruth had probably come with them. My own smile fading, I turned back around and gave Ezra a questioning look. He shrugged his shoulders, but not with surprise.

We started out with a hymn in High German. Everyone sang the same notes—there were no separate parts and no one sang harmony. I didn’t even try to follow along. I thought of Sarah’s book and how she said singing a song was like following a recipe. Some of these songs were pretty bad. When we were on our third hymn, a group of younger, mischievous boys came in poking and shoving each other. Will cleared his throat and they straightened up, filing onto a bench at the front table, the only available place left.

Halfway through the singing, the women chaperones handed out pitchers of water and glasses, and when we started up again we sang “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” in English and then a German song to the tune of “Amazing Grace.” As the evening went on, the tempos grew livelier and the volume louder. I kept thinking about Great-Grandmother Sarah, who probably would have appreciated the more spirited numbers.

When the singing ended, Ezra and I followed the others to the back of the building for refreshments. Ada didn’t seem to pick up on my irritation with her and Will about bringing Ruth, so I let it go for now. Ada gave me a hug, her brown eyes as bright and lively as ever. Her face was a little pale, though, and I wondered suddenly if she might be pregnant. I knew it wouldn’t be polite to ask. Growing up with a midwife for a mother, I had always been surrounded by talk of pregnancy and birth, but I’d been taught to hold my tongue and not speak of such things so freely with others.

The chaperones had put out spiced cider, fresh pretzels, popcorn, and orange slices. Pinwheel cookies with a vanilla and chocolate swirl were also on the table, and they looked absolutely delicious. I sampled one, judging the texture and taste against my own and deeming the one I was eating to be much better. I’d have to try to get the recipe.

I took a cup of the hot cider and wrapped my hands around it, trying to ward off the chill of the cold evening. I was ready to go, but Ezra seemed happy to stay and chat with the Amish men forever.

Gradually, the courting couples began to leave, most to go to the girls’ houses for a snack and some privacy. Then a group of single girls left together, followed by some of the single boys.

“We should get going,” I whispered to Ezra. I was anxious to finish our discussion.

“Let Will and me take you home,” Ada said, reaching for my hand. “I’ve hardly seen you lately.”

I must have looked alarmed because Will laughed and said, “We won’t bite, Ella. Ezra has some finishing up to do back at the greenhouses before bed.”

“Thanks anyway.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound too alarmed. I gave Ezra a pleading look.

“I’ll hurry,” he said to Will. “I can take her home and still get it done, I promise.”

Will looked at Ada, who was yawning. “Are you tired?”

“Just a little.” She had to be pregnant. Maybe she’d already seen Mom. Maybe everyone in the family knew but me. That seemed to be how things were going. Will put his arm around his wife, his lips brushing the top of her head covering and then her blond hair. I glanced away, embarrassed. Amish couples rarely showed affection in public.

“I guess I’m ready,” Ezra said to me.

I told Ada and Will goodbye and then approached Amanda Bender, praising her pinwheel cookies. She rattled off her recipe. It sounded just like mine, which made no sense because hers were so much better. I asked what kind of chocolate she used, and when she named a more expensive brand, I had my answer. Her food budget obviously had more leeway than ours. I thanked her and followed Ezra out the door into the cold night, where we were met by Ruth and her gaggle of girlfriends, all wrapped in their capes.

“I thought Will and Ada were giving Ella a ride home,” Ruth said, her bottom lip protruding in a tiny pout. Then she smiled up at Ezra. I hadn’t noticed how pretty she was getting until that moment, under the moonlight. Her hair was coal black and her eyes bright blue. Her lips were red and shiny, as if she’d put gloss on them, but perhaps it was from the cold.

“Not tonight,” Ezra answered.

“Oh,” she said. “I was hoping you could give me a ride.”

“Will and Ada have room,” I said sweetly. “Ask them.” I took Ezra’s arm and waved goodbye.

“Here’s the deal.” We hadn’t even driven out of the barnyard when Ezra started talking. I glanced around, wondering if anyone was listening.

“I can’t go to Chicago with you.” His voice was monotone, as if he’d been rehearsing what to say in his head all evening. “And I was only joking about Florida.”

The buggy wheel hit a rock and I lurched forward. Ezra reached out and steadied me, his hand against my arm.

“It’s already been decided.” He put his hand back on the reins.

“What’s been decided?” I whispered.

“I’m going to learn to be a dairy farmer.”

I lurched forward again, all on my own. But he didn’t reach out to steady me this time.

“Will and
Daed
have their eye on a farm—the one on Oak Road. The owner doesn’t have anyone to pass it down to. His sons left the church decades ago. He’s thinking about selling in a year.” His voice was still monotone. “So the family wants me to learn the business.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage to say. As the horse picked up speed on the paved lane and the icy wind hit my face, I felt my dreams freeze. I was all alone, a solitary figure in a winter landscape. Ezra had his entire family. And his church. And now a dairy farm. While I had nothing.
Correction
, I thought.
I have my mother, a brother who is, apparently, now a half brother too, and a birth father who wants to come back after abandoning all of us fifteen years ago.

I wound my scarf tightly around my neck and stared straight ahead.

“Ella.” He glanced at me, holding the reins tightly. “We both knew it would come to this sooner or later. I’m sorry. All along I hoped we could make it work. I could become Mennonite, I thought. But I need my family—”

“I don’t want you to become Mennonite, really. I’m more than willing to become Amish after I take some baking classes. Then I’ll join.” I just needed to learn enough to open and operate a successful bakery, but that wouldn’t be possible once I was a member of Ezra’s district. For some
reason, even though they allowed some job-related education, culinary training was not acceptable.

“That would be too hard for you, to become Amish.”

Tears stung my eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to,” he added quickly. “I just don’t think it’s realistic.”

Now the tears were falling down my face. Embarrassed, I brushed them away as my cheeks stung from the cold.

“Ella, I’m sorry.” His voice had an edge of defensiveness to it.

“It’s not just this.” That wasn’t entirely a lie, but I wasn’t going to grovel in front of him, even though the evening wasn’t turning out anything like I had planned.

I put on my brave face and told him about my father, about Mom and Zed going to see him, about Zed and I being half siblings, about Mom keeping it from us all along. “That’s why I have to get away from here. I don’t want to be around to see my mom and Zed cozy up to Freddy Bayer. I need to have my own life—one that makes sense to me.”

We were on the highway by the time I took a breath.

I rushed on. “I can’t believe my family is even more messed up than I thought. You’re so lucky to have your folks and brothers and sister. And sisters-in-law.”

He nodded but did not reply

“So will you work at the dairy on Oak Road to learn the business?” I finally said, trying to bring him back. “Is that the plan?”

“Not to learn the business, no,” he said. “The plan is to own and work that dairy eventually, but for now my folks—and Will—want me to go somewhere else to train for it. They think it would be good for me to experience life in an Amish community outside Lancaster County.”

My eyes narrowed. It was obvious what was really going on here. They wanted to get Ezra away from me.

“Like where?” I tried my hardest to keep my voice even. “Ohio?” I was certain he had some relatives there. Probably next door to Ruth’s family.

“Maybe,” he said.

“How about Indiana?” I asked, thinking of my own desire to visit the Home Place. “I have relatives in that area. If you went there, I might be able to come out too.”

His face didn’t exactly light up at the notion. Instead, he just shrugged and said, “I have no idea where I’ll end up. Will’s sent out a few letters so far, but that’s all.”

Refusing to be deterred, I leaned down a little, putting my hand to my forehead, and continued working the idea through in my mind. If we could find a dairy for Ezra to work at in Indiana, not only could I go out there for a visit to the Home Place, but maybe I could even find some way to stay and go to baking school.

“At least Indiana is a possibility, right?” I persisted.

He stared straight ahead, not saying a word, but his eyes flickered as if he’d heard me. Judging by his expression and his lack of response, our conversation had veered into dangerous territory.

This was the closest Ezra and I had ever come to breaking up, and I didn’t want to cross that line, that point of no return. Trying not to panic, I decided to change the subject and lighten things up a bit instead. As I did, I could hear myself growing chatty, turning my earlier outburst about my mother and Zed going to see my father into a joke, as if I really didn’t care.

“Maybe I’ll see him next week,” I said. “I don’t look a thing like Mom. I guess I should see if I at least look like him.”