The Longing (35 page)
She felt something like them as they drifted toward the barn for watering. First Caleb had led her, so to speak, and then Chris. Both young men were special to her, but neither was right. She knew this now; she’d spent long hours pondering her upcoming date tonight with Chris.
Having taken care to brush her hair fifty extra strokes, she pinned it back just so. Sure, she was enamored with Chris. Well, she had been until she’d really thought about the possibility of courtship. Which of them would budge, if they were to become serious? Was it even practical to think of Chris settling into the Plain community his grandfather had chosen to leave?
How’s it possible for us to manage as a couple?
But even if he did decide to leave his modern life and join her here, she believed she still cared too much for Caleb. She wasn’t ready to be wooed by a new love—might never be. So, when the time was right, sometime this evening, she would tell Chris the truth . . . that she liked him, and quite a lot, but she loved Caleb. And maybe she always would.
Thus far God had given her the grace to bear her sadness. Yet she wouldn’t stay marrying age for too many more years. Even so, she must trust the Lord, who does all things well, as Mamma so often reminded her and Nan.
And now Rhoda, too.
Such a delight it was to see her sister settle quickly—and happily—into James’s former room down the hall, the very spot she’d asked for and been refused. But something had changed in Mamma . . . in Dat, too. They were more tolerant, and Nellie had noticed the number of necklaces hanging on the edge of the old dresser mirror was fewer than before. Rhoda had placed Suzy’s bracelet front and center, however, saying it was a big part of why she’d come home. Rhoda had also begun sewing new cape dresses and aprons, and Nellie secretly wondered if she might someday up and sell her car, too.
Just that morning Rhoda had returned Suzy’s diary, and Nellie Mae had passed it right off to Mamma.
“Where’re you headed?” Nan poked her head into Nellie’s room.
“Over to the little tabernacle at Tel Hai—ever go there?”
Nan nodded. “Ezekiel’s talkin’ of going sometime.”
“This is my last time to go . . . with a fella.”
Snickering, Nan covered her mouth. “Ach, you’re always talking ’bout the last you’ll do such and so.”
“Well, I mean it this time.”
A frown crossed her brow; then she reached for Nellie’s hand. “I hope what I have to say won’t upset you.” Nan sighed. “Ezekiel and I’ve set our wedding date for the first Thursday in November . . . the sixth.”
“What’s to be sad about?”
A smile broke on Nan’s face. “I’m hopin’ you’ll consider being one of my bridesmaids. You and Rhoda.”
“Oh, Nan, I’d love to!” She gave her sister a quick hug. “You and Ezekiel will be such a cute married couple, ya know?”
They stood smiling at each other, arms still entwined. “Only one thing could be better ’bout that day for me, Nellie . . . that’s if you had a best beau there for you to fellowship with during the wedding feast.”
The feast would last long into the evening and be followed by a special barn Singing with the wedding party and all the youth in attendance—a right good and happy time, for sure.
She nudged Nan to the window. “Look out there. Watch the horses . . . see how they trust the one in the lead?”
Ever so still, they watched. At last Nellie said, “They’re not in any hurry to get where they’re goin’. And neither am I.”
“Dat always says essential things can be learned from nature, if we pay attention. Journeying with the seasons the Lord set into motion.”
Jah, journeying with the Lord . . .
After a time, Nellie moved toward the door. “ ’Tis nearly dusk, so I best be goin’.”
“Is it Chris, then, tonight?” Nan whispered.
Nellie Mae gave her a nod. “Pray for me . . . it won’t be easy.” She thought how much harder it would be to say goodbye to someone if they were further along in their courtship. Like she and Caleb had been . . .
There was such a stitch of sadness in her soul at the painful memory of their last conversation together. Her beloved’s rejecting the dear Savior . . .
Nan walked her to the end of the hall. “
Da Herr sei mit du
—God be with you, sister.”
“Oh, He is, Nan.” She patted her heart. “Rest assured . . . He surely is.”
The night was especially still and heavy with nature’s perfume—a scent as sweet and pure as that of wild honey.
Nellie made her way down the drive, turning right at the road. She’d slipped through the redd-up kitchen to fleeting glances from both Dat and Mamma, though as was their way, they asked no questions. But from now on, she wouldn’t be sneaking out anywhere. Her dates with Chris Yoder would soon be a thing of the past.
She guessed he might try to dissuade her—try to talk her into giving their friendship more time. He did seem interested in knowing her better, even though if they were to continue their friendship, it would have to be by letter. Soon he would be leaving for Virginia to attend college.
But she wanted to share with him the truth—what lay in her heart.
Oh, but I don’t want to hurt him
.
She recalled the freshness heralded by the fragrant morning as she worked out in the blackberry patch early today, alone and talking to God. A red-tailed hawk had flown overhead and hung in the high current, its call sounding almost like the
mew
of a new kitten. And she’d wept, her tears falling to the soft soil. Even so, she knew this difficult deed she was about to do was the right thing.
At the bend in the road, Nellie looked for Chris’s car along the wide shoulder—their appointed meeting spot. She noticed an open buggy parked there—at first glance, it looked like Chris sitting atop, holding the reins. She looked away, knowing she had to be mistaken. What would he be doing with a courting buggy? Unless . . . had he borrowed one for a joke? But no, she couldn’t imagine that.
Certain she must be imagining things, she kept her head down, embarrassed, eyes still on the road. The crickets had begun their evening song, and Nellie listened, aware of the beauty to be found in the fragile twilight.
Love is ever so fragile, too. . . .
How could you open your heart fully to someone new when it already belonged to another? That very realization had overtaken her in the blackberry patch this morning.
She heard someone call, “Nellie Mae?”
Looking up, she let
out a little gasp, startled to see Caleb sitting in the buggy, smiling down at her.
“Word has it a pretty girl would be walkin’ this way at dusk.” He leapt down from his perch. “I’d say that’s right about now.”
She couldn’t help herself—she laughed. Chris and Caleb in cahoots. For how long?
But she didn’t have to know. The surprise was purely delicious, like mixing favorite ingredients together and getting a blue-ribbon pie.
“I hear there’s a wonderful-good meetin’ over at the Tel Hai tabernacle . . . want to go with me, Nellie Mae?” he asked.
She saw the sincerity in his beautiful hazel eyes. Now she was crying . . . tears of greatest joy. Caleb was here . . .
here
where Chris had agreed to meet her, of all amazing things. “That’s why I came,” she said, overcome with delight.
He helped her into the left side of his shiny black buggy and then sat down next to her. “There’s so much I want to tell you. . . .”
With that, he picked up the reins and clicked his tongue.
The laughter she’d first suppressed at this most unexpected reunion slipped out softly, mingling with Caleb’s own. A welcome breeze swept across their faces as nightfall gathered in around them.
“You once said you believed in miracles,” he said.
“Now more than ever.” Oh, she could hardly wait to sing joyful praises that night, blending her voice with those of the other worshipers, and her darling’s!
Only one thing mattered now: She was with Caleb as the horse pulled them forward, toward the little tabernacle beneath the stars.
February 1968
Just imagine my excitement when both Preachers Manny and Elias agreed to help my darling catch up with the other twelve baptismal candidates as we prepared to join the New Order Amish church. Once his father led the way, the truth of the Lord became real to Caleb, and it was impossible for him to deny it for long. Or so he’s told me, all smiles. As a result, Caleb and I made our kneeling vows to God on the fourteenth of September last year, becoming church members together. After he was greeted by the ministerial brethren, his face shone with purest joy as he looked my way. Up until that wonderful-good day, there had not been a more sacred moment for either of us.
As the Lord planned it, Rosanna’s adopted son, Jonathan, came into the world that very evening—and with little to-do, according to Lena Stoltzfus, who kept her word without hesitation. Bright-eyed and weighing nearly nine pounds, fair-haired Jonathan seemed to bond immediately with Rosanna on the second day of his life, when Lena herself presented him. And just as was her desire, Rosanna was soon able to nurse him, once she gave birth to her tiny blue-eyed daughter, who came a bit early. A true miracle, according to the midwife. Praise be!
So Jonathan and Lena Grace are only one day shy of three weeks apart. “Two precious gifts,” Rosanna says as she holds one in each arm, cooing and carrying on. Ach, how it does my heart good to see it.
My oldest sister is the busiest mother’s helper ever, according to Rosanna. She hopes to keep Rhoda around for a while longer—at least till Caleb’s and my own little one is born in late September, marking the month two years ago that salvation came to my father’s house.
Sweet Nan and her husband are in the family way, too, which isn’t surprising, as my sister and I put our heads together and planned a double wedding. And, oh, it was the finest Indian summer day there has ever been, like a divine sign, truly. Even Mamma thought so. I stood up for Nan as her bridesmaid while she made her vows to Ezekiel Mast just moments before I made my own to dearest Caleb. It was only fitting, being that Nan’s older than me.
As for Dat’s ongoing hope for unity, Uncle Bishop has surprised the People—some more than others—by softening his stand on studying and discussing Scripture, departing from the typical way of the Old Order. Truth is, the words spoken at David Yoder’s funeral shook up quite a few folk, including Ephram and Maryann. Dat says the Lord knew what it would take—that the rather pointed and sobering sermons were necessary to nudge the most reluctant of all my married brothers in His direction. It’s safe to say that freedom in the Lord—with less emphasis on man-made regulations—is becoming rather contagious round here. More prayer meetings and Bible studies are cropping up all the time, and in the most unexpected places. There’s no denying it: God is at work in all of our hearts.
I can’t think of anything that would please Suzy more. Honestly, I think of her most often now when Caleb reads Chris’s letters from college. I’ll never forget how Chris and Zach played such an important part in leading my sister to faith. And I still find it curious that the Lord used my interest in Chris—and his in me—as a wonderful reminder of Caleb while we were apart.
Just recently Chris wrote describing his ministerial studies, and I recalled that he’d once shared wanting to do something big for God. To think that his and Zach’s befriending Suzy started such a stir amongst the People, like a dewdrop falling into a vast sea, rippling out to touch so many thirsty souls.
At the close of Chris’s letter, he mentioned having heard that a Miss Rhoda Fisher was signed up for college days weekend in April—two months from now. Evidently Rhoda is confident about passing her GED test—the class is the sole place she goes in her car anymore, preferring to take Dat’s horse and buggy the rest of the time. Of course, if Rhoda does attend the Eastern Mennonite School, I won’t have her wonderful-good help with Caleb’s and my first baby. But Mamma will surely make up for that, if need be.
Meanwhile, I sew and crochet for our little one to come while reciting aloud my recipes to Elizabeth, my dear mother-in-law, who kindly helps me write them down. We’re hoping to finish my
Nellie’s Simple Sweets Cookbook
before it’s time to plant my vegetable garden. Dat and Mamma closed the bakery shop after Caleb and I moved into his parents’ big farmhouse, ending one more happy chapter in my life. Now I’d much rather cook and bake for my husband. Every so often, Caleb sneaks up behind me in the kitchen to reach around my ever-widening middle and whisper loving words, his nose tickling my neck. He likes to talk to our baby, too, which makes me smile. Oh, the Lord is so good to bring us together as man and wife. To think we’ll soon be a family of three!
Caleb’s mother moved right away to the Dawdi Haus after our wedding, an unspoken way of showing her hope for grandbabies—Lord willing, one right after another. It’ll be especially fun for Rosanna and me to raise our wee ones together, so close in age they’ll be.
As for Caleb’s sister Rebekah, she managed to keep her beau a secret longer than most brides-to-be, publishing the wedding date after church just one week before Nan’s and my wedding day. She and her husband, one of Susannah Lapp’s cousins, live within walking distance of Caleb and me. So my husband enjoys seeing his sister, and I’m becoming a close sister-in-law to Nan’s dearest friend.
Last week, between quilting frolics, Cousin Treva wrote that she noticed two new purple martin birdhouses standing tall in Dawdi and Mammi Fisher’s side yard. Dat has the most interesting way of turning his father’s heart back toward Honey Brook. Mammi Hannah has also sent a nice batch of recipes in answer to my request, and she has been writing to Mamma quite a lot since seeing her at Martha’s for the pickling bee last summer, recently hinting at moving back “home.” Although now with all the religious stir amongst my married brothers— wanting more of Scripture, as well as fancier things—who’s to say my grandparents might not just end up at the Dawdi Haus next door to my parents, after all.
Early in the morning, when I do my bread baking, I ponder my love for Caleb . . . and his growing love for the Lord.