A Wedding for Julia Read online

  “It’s not that,” Caleb said. “There’s nothing to tell, is all.”

  “Nothing to tell? When have you ever been late returning home? Usually you’re here early so you can put a line in the creek before dark.” Aaron’s laughter was as clear as the ring of David’s hammer against the nail.

  “You were late because of…”

  “Julia.” Aaron nudged Caleb with another board. “Julia Beechy.”

  David let out a low whistle. “She’s a nice-looking woman and available for sure, but I wasn’t aware she was dating. In fact, it’s been a very long time since Julia has shared a buggy ride for the purpose of courting.”

  “It wasn’t Julia who caused me to be late. Not exactly. It was the conversation we had, which made me stay longer than normal. Plus I was distracted, so I drove past the cabins a few miles before I realized I needed to turn around.”

  “Must have been some conversation.”

  “Wait until you hear the details.” Aaron’s grin grew even broader.

  Caleb couldn’t fault him. He’d known Aaron since he was a young boy, tagging along behind as Caleb and Aaron’s older cousin had gone fishing and hunting. Aaron was too good-natured to hold a grudge against, though he did seem to be enjoying Caleb’s misery this morning.

  He proceeded to fill in David as they worked, though Caleb corrected him once or twice on minor details.

  “So Ada is going to sell the place?” David shook his head. “I guess I should say the rest of the place. Most of it already went to the Elliotts. Real shame. Julia grew up here. We went to school together. Moving will be hard, I suspect.”

  “Ya, and all because she isn’t married.” Caleb had picked up a hammer and drove the nail a little harder than necessary.

  “I told Caleb he should pop the question.”

  “That’s not funny, Aaron.”

  “I wasn’t being funny, my freind. I was serious.”

  “Which isn’t funny.”

  David held up his hands to stop the two. “If I didn’t know you were friends from your youth, I would think you were bruders the way you argue sometimes.”

  “Actually, I was closer to Aaron’s older cousin. Matthew was two years younger than me. Our parents’ farms shared a property line, so we spent a lot of time together. Aaron was a little guy who visited often and insisted on following us around all the time.” Caleb climbed the ladder and began working on the roof of the addition.

  “I thought you were the oldest cousin.” David passed materials up to Caleb as he spoke to Aaron. “You told me that’s why you had to come to Indiana to help with the cabins, because you were the oldest.”

  “I might have said that, but I meant the oldest unmarried cousin.”

  “And look who’s married now,” Caleb said, laughing.

  “Yes, I am, and I’m telling you that married life is pretty nice. You should consider it.”

  “I don’t even know her.”

  They all paused at that. Aaron picking up a board, David with his hammer back and nail in place, and Caleb perched on the roof.

  David was the one who broke the silence.

  “That’s probably true of most married people. You don’t truly know someone until you share your mornings and your nights with them.” He shook his head and began hammering again. “I thought I knew Anna when we married, but I didn’t. I’m not saying marriage is something you should rush into. Aaron’s idea is radical and a thing you would need to pray about, but the truth? No one can completely know another person until they’ve shared their life.”

  Caleb was relieved when Lydia came back and the conversation ended. He’d endured a restless night, and David’s words left him even more confused.

  He wanted to help Julia. He did. But marry her? Was he supposed to go that far?

  What stuck in his mind more than the splinter he’d managed to catch in his forefinger were the words he’d prayed as he’d driven up to her house yesterday. Maybe it had been a coincidence. Maybe it had nothing to do with all that followed, but he couldn’t help remembering that he’d cried out to God for one thing and one thing alone. He couldn’t help remembering how right that prayer had felt. The words still echoed in his mind. He’d prayed, Gotte, what I need is a freind.

  But friendship and marriage were two different things, weren’t they?

  Julia pulled gently on the reins to her old Bay Paint mare, Missy, slowing the buggy as she approached Bishop Atlee’s home.

  Fortunately, her mother hadn’t asked any questions when she’d finished the morning chores and said she was going to town. She would never lie to her mother. She’d even prepared a speech in her mind, explaining why she felt the need to speak with the bishop.

  Now the speech whirled around under her prayer kapp, unneeded and unused. Ada had nodded and resumed tending to the rose bushes, adding, “Do be careful, dear.”

  The bushes didn’t actually need pruning. Julia took care of that, but Ada seemed to enjoy trimming back the dead blooms, often stopping to brush her hand across the newest red buds. The task was cumbersome for her. Some days she could barely work her arthritic fingers into the handles of the pruning shears. Still, she insisted on doing it herself. Watching her work slowly and with extra care, Julia knew her mother was remembering the hymn from her father’s funeral—“Where the Roses Never Fade.”

  How could she be angry with her mother when she was such a sweet old thing? How could she stay aggravated when each day she worried about her mother’s health? Each day might be her mother’s last. Even today it seemed Ada was a little weaker as she walked from the kitchen, out the back door, and to the row of rose bushes.

  When Julia had asked how she felt, Ada had waved a hand and said, “I will sing praise to the name of the Lord.”

  The Psalms—always the Psalms! Since she was a child it had been so. She’d asked her why more than once, but Ada had simply patted her hand and answered with words from another Psalm. It was maddening.

  An evening’s rest and morning chores had done nothing to lessen Julia’s confusion, and Bishop Atlee Keim might be the one person who could provide answers.

  Before she could knock on his door, the bishop walked out of his barn and waved a hand in greeting. “Julia, nice to see you.”

  “And you, Bishop.”

  “Is everything all right with Ada?” The skin around his eyes crinkled in concern, and he ran a hand up and over his cheeks—cheeks as weathered as the pages of Ada’s Bible.

  Atlee had been their bishop for as long as Julia could remember. He had a beard which was mostly white and reminded her of the Englisch pictures of St. Nicholas. The hair on the top of his head was also white and beginning to thin. He’d been married, but his wife had passed a few years before. Recently he’d moved into the smaller house—the grossdaddi house—on his place, and his oldest son had moved into the big house. Often when Julia saw the bishop, he was surrounded by children—his own grandchildren or the children of his congregation.

  “My mother is fine.” Julia’s hand went to her kapp, though she knew it was pinned perfectly. “I was wondering if you could spare a minute to talk.”

  “Of course.” Atlee nodded toward the porch. “It’s what the rockers are best for. I’ll go inside and fetch us some drinks.”

  By the time he returned, Julia had gathered her courage and was ready to spill the entire story. She did it a little more succinctly than she had with Caleb, so that she was finished before the bishop had taken two drinks from his glass of lemonade.

  “I can see you’re upset by this discussion you’ve had with your mamm.”

  “Of course I am! What they decided is so unfair.”

  He tipped his head to the right, the way he did during a church service before he was about to make another point. “Fairness is a difficult thing to pinpoint, so I won’t speak to that. I do know that Ada and Jonathan love you very much.”

  She liked that he spoke of her father in the present tense. Julia believed in the resu
rrection, and she knew her father was in heaven even now, watching over her.

  “I’m not sure my dat understood exactly what he was doing when he made this…decision.”

  “Because of his illness during his last year?”

  “Ya.” Relieved that he was understanding her, she pushed on. “You know better than anyone how addled he could become. Some days he thought I was his schweschder. Am I to believe he knew what he was doing when he set this course for my life?”

  Atlee didn’t respond immediately. Instead he rocked and stared out at the trees, which looked as if they had been colored by a child—their leaves were so bright and attractive.

  “You’re saying you would follow your father’s advice, normally. The problem is you’re not sure he was of a clear mind when he made this condition that you must marry to inherit the home here in Pebble Creek.”

  Julia nodded. It was a slight nod because she wasn’t sure if that’s what she was saying or not. She did trust her father, but this was all so crazy.

  Atlee set his lemonade down and folded his hands in his lap. For a moment she thought he might be praying, but then he raised his wise brown eyes and looked directly into hers.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve seen the legal papers Ada spoke of, but Jonathan had them drawn up several years ago while his mind was still quite clear. I know because he asked me to witness them.” He paused, allowing time for his words to sink in. “I also know because before he did such a thing he spent many an hour here with me, praying about it.”

  Julia shook her head, wanting to say something, say anything to make him stop.

  “I suppose it’s hard to understand how a parent worries over a child, and you are still a child to your parents no matter how old you become. Jonathan’s heart was burdened that you had not married.” He raised his hand to stop her protest. “He enjoyed having you at home, but he wanted you to have what he had. He wanted the peace of knowing someone would protect you, love you, and cherish you as a husband would. Together, we prayed for this. In the end, he decided that his duty as a parent was to send you back to Ada’s family.”

  “But I’m a grown woman.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “This isn’t fair!”

  Atlee’s hand came out, dismissing the subject as he had the first time.

  Julia took another sip of the lemonade, which now tasted too tart.

  “What am I to do?”

  “The choice you make is yours, Julia. I will pray for you during this time, and any time you would like me to pray with you, I’d be happy to do that as well. In the meantime, I suggest you search the Scriptures. Always you will find guidance there.”

  Standing, she thanked him and walked back to her buggy.

  Following beside her, the bishop asked her to give his best to Ada. When she’d climbed into the buggy, he said, with a twinkle in his eye, “The marrying season is upon us, Julia. Is there no one from among our community you’d consider?”

  “Just like that? Just marry someone?”

  “There are gut men who would—”

  “Name one.”

  “Bishop Beiler, on the east side of Pebble Creek.”

  “He is in his fifties.” Julie clapped her hand over her mouth. She would never have said anything disparaging about the bishop, but marrying him? Was Atlee serious?

  Smiling, he continued. “Gabe Miller’s brother has been visiting. I’ve heard he means to stay.”

  Julia closed her eyes, determined not to say another word. The entire world had apparently gone mad. She had known Andrew Miller only a few months, and she’d spoken less than a dozen words to him.

  “And then there’s Caleb Zook.”

  Now her eyes popped open.

  “Caleb?”

  “Sure. He’s been here more than a year. Aaron has vouched for him, and I’ve spoken to his previous bishop as well. He seems like a fine young man.”

  “Caleb?”

  “Zook. Ya. You know him. About this tall, longish hair, delivers groceries.”

  Julia picked up Missy’s reins. With a polite but firm smile, she said, “No, Bishop. I haven’t given it any consideration.”

  Then she murmured to the horse and turned her buggy down the lane.

  It wasn’t until she was halfway home that she realized she hadn’t quite spoken the truth. She had given marriage some consideration and with one of the men Bishop Atlee had mentioned. The question was whether she had the courage to do anything about it.

  Chapter 7

  Julia sat through the church service and struggled to pay attention. She wasn’t having much success, though she’d been at it for several hours. Aaron and Lydia’s home was small but cozy. What would that be like? What would it be like to share the most intimate of moments—waking, breakfast, passing each other in the mudroom, even going to sleep together?

  She pulled her thoughts back to the worship service.

  The singing portion had gone fairly well until they had reached “Where the Roses Never Fade.” Why this week? When her memories of her father were so fresh, so muddled, why was this one of the chosen hymns?

  The lyrics spoke of their heavenly home and streets of gold. They reminded her of the tree of life. Voices raised around her, singing of roses with eternal blooms. The words of the hymn comforted her, while at the same time stirring in her heart an ache for her father.

  Tears threatened, but Julia blinked them away. She’d had more than her share of hugs and warm greetings this morning. It seemed perhaps her situation had been the topic of the Amish grapevine—out of concern and not maliciousness, she had no doubt. Still, she didn’t want to begin weeping now. It would be sure to cause more talk and trouble her mother as well.

  On Thursday, Ada had taken a turn for the worse.

  She hadn’t been able to leave her bed for two days. Julia was worried enough to go to the phone shack and call Doc Hanson. He’d come to the house, assessed her mother’s condition, and spoken with her about it in the hall outside her mother’s room.

  “It’s her heart, Julia. Same as before. The muscle is old and tired. Perhaps with a pacemaker—”

  “My hearing is still gut, Grady Hanson, and I believe I’ve given you my decision on that topic.”

  Doc Hanson had shrugged, and Julia had gone back to her mother’s side. Suddenly she was worried and ashamed she’d spent hours upset at Ada for their conversation about her future. What if the time she’d spent angry were some of her mother’s final hours?

  By Saturday Ada had taken one of her miraculous turns, and on Sunday morning she woke insisting she was well enough for church.

  The episode had done more than shame Julia about her resentment toward her mother. It had convinced her that she might not have long to make her decision. If she wanted to stay in Pebble Creek, she would need to find a way to do so.

  But short of marrying, how?

  As the hymn singing stopped and the preaching began, they turned in their Bibles to the twelfth chapter of First Corinthians. Julia’s attention didn’t stay on Paul’s description of the spiritual gifts, though. Instead, her eyes drifted across the page to the apostle’s words on love.

  “Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way.”

  How many times had she read those words? But always with an eye to how she treated others in her congregation or her parents. Never with a mind toward marrying someone she barely knew. Would she actually consider such a thing? And who was to say—here was the real rub, which caused her eyes to fill with tears again—who was to say that someone would be willing to marry her?

  It was worse than humiliating.

  As they rose to sing the next hymn, she glanced across the room and was startled to see Caleb watching her. Her heart flipped like pancakes on a griddle.

  Had he noticed her reaching for her handkerchief? Did he guess what emo
tions she was struggling with?

  And what exactly had he meant when he left her house on Tuesday? He’d said she could stay in Pebble Creek and have her café if she found someone to marry. What would prompt him to say such a thing?

  Even if someone from their congregation offered to marry her and she accepted, there was no guarantee he would agree with her plans to turn their home into a café. She would be subject to his decisions. He might not even want to live in the old house along Pebble Creek. What would be the chances that her dreams would be his dreams?

  More importantly, what would be the chances that their marriage would be a union of love, one like that described in Paul’s letter she had been reading? She was old enough to realize that not all marriages were held together with love. A marriage was a private thing, and what one saw on the outside was not always what existed within—even for those around her, even for Amish marriages.

  There was no such thing as a perfect community with perfect families and perfect relationships. She would have no guarantees.

  As they were dismissed for lunch, she turned to help her mother stand. Ada smiled up at her. What could she possibly have to smile about? Her hands were nearly clawlike today, her heart unreliable, and she was shrinking before their eyes. Ada never failed to amaze Julia, but then she was learning—daily—that there were many things she didn’t understand, many things she had yet to learn from her mother. The question was whether God would grant them enough time.

  Caleb was not happy.

  Sitting at the picnic table next to Aaron, he hunched over his plate of food and pretended to eat.

  It seemed as though a protective barrier was around Julia Beechy, and he was having trouble finding a way through it. Before the church service it had been women—lots of women. Aaron’s wife, David’s wife, Julia’s own mother. When he had arrived at Aaron’s house for the morning service, Caleb had tried to catch Julia’s attention, but he couldn’t make his way through the women who were talking with her.

  At one point they actually linked up arms and walked off in a different direction, leaving Caleb holding his hat and wondering what he was supposed to do. To make matters worse, Aaron had laughed and slapped him on the back.