Weddings at Promise Lodge Page 6

  The sound of male voices came from the dining room. “Say, what’s a man got to do to get something to eat around here?” Monroe teased.

  “Smells like there ought to be chicken and fresh bread we could stuff into our faces,” Amos joined in. “Nothing like setting up pew benches to work up an appetite.”

  Christine turned as the men entered the kitchen. “Gut news,” she said. “This is Maria Zehr, and she wants to move here with her bakery—and she’s already got a building. Maria, this is our bishop, Monroe Burkholder, and one of our preachers, Amos Troyer—”

  “And what a nice surprise to see you, Maria,” Truman said as he came in behind Amos. “So you think your bakery will do better at Promise Lodge? From what I’ve seen these past several months, that might be an accurate assessment—but it’ll take a while to build up your business here,” he pointed out. “I doubt folks from Cloverdale will come so far to buy your doughnuts and Danish.”

  He slipped his arm around Maria’s shoulders and gave her a loose hug. “Maria goes to our Mennonite church in Cloverdale,” he explained to everyone. “She’s a hard worker. Supports herself and her younger sister on what she earns in her bakery.”

  Maria hugged Truman’s waist with an enthusiastic smile. “You probably haven’t heard that Lizzie’s going to live with our older sister Malinda and her family—to help look after the kids and tend the housework,” she added with a sigh. “Malinda’s multiple sclerosis is getting worse.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Truman murmured. “So what’ll happen to your house? You’ve lived there since you were born.”

  Maria nodded. “A family from our church—the Slabaughs—are interested in renting it. I’m hoping their monthly check will float me until I reopen my bakery.”

  “So the rest of your family—and your parents—are gone?” Bishop Monroe was looking Maria over, smiling his encouragement.

  “I’m the youngest of seventeen,” Maria explained proudly. “My folks passed a few years ago, and my older siblings are all married—most of them scattered around Missouri and Iowa. It’s just been Lizzie and me for the past couple of years.”

  Amos nodded. “I can see why you’d want to live where you wouldn’t be by yourself all the time,” he said. “You’d be in gut company with Christine and her girls, and Rosetta and the Kuhns. Promise Lodge is all about making a fresh start.”

  Maria’s smile widened. She slipped out from under Truman’s arm and unfolded the tea towel in her basket before offering it to Monroe. “Speaking of fresh,” she said, “I brought some of the pastries I made early this morning. Try an apple fritter, or a—”

  “The jelly doughnut’s mine!” the bishop exclaimed, grabbing it.

  “And I see a cream cheese Danish,” Amos said as he stuck his hand into the basket.

  Truman peered eagerly at the selection. “Oh, here’s a glazed chocolate cake doughnut with my name on it.” He handed the basket to Christine. “Maria provides the goodies for coffee fellowship after our church services, so I’ve probably tried everything she bakes. Haven’t found one yet that I didn’t like.”

  Christine chose the apple fritter. “It’s a real treat to eat goodies somebody else made,” she said as she passed the basket to Rosetta.

  “Maria, you’ve got my vote,” Monroe said after he licked jelly and frosting from his fingers. “Say the word, and we’ll help you get settled in—get us the measurements and we’ll pour the concrete slab for your bakery as soon as we get a warm spell.”

  “I can get those dimensions for you,” Truman said, “and I’ll include the placements for the gas, water, and electricity, too.”

  “You’ve got my vote, too,” Amos said with a satisfied smile. “Why not go upstairs with Rosetta and choose your rooms? If you want some walls painted, or any sort of renovation to join the rooms into one apartment, we can get that done for you now, because it’s inside work.”

  Maria’s eyes sparkled. “What a wonderful welcome,” she said. “I’d love to have a look around upstairs.”

  Rosetta had crossed the kitchen and was opening one of the ovens. “Mattie, how about you or Christine showing her around? We’ve got bread that needs watching.”

  “Come with me, Maria,” Mattie said, gesturing toward the dining room. “There’s a back staircase, but I’ll give you the tour of the lodge on our way upstairs. Maybe you’ll want the apartment I just moved out of. I married Amos and moved into his house, you see.”

  As Mattie and Maria left the kitchen, each of the men took another pastry and followed them out. Ruby and Beulah began lifting cooked chicken pieces from the big pot with slotted spoons. “Wouldn’t that be something, to have a bakery here?” Ruby said. “I really like to bake, but I’ve never been one to fuss over doughnuts.”

  “I think Maria will do pretty well, come spring—and we have some girls who might want to work for her, too,” Beulah speculated. “But we’d probably run up quite a bill for baked goods, considering we’d have to pay her for what we ate.”

  “Hmm. Maybe Monroe and Amos will ask Rosetta to work out an arrangement that might go toward Maria’s rent payment,” Ruby teased.

  Christine chuckled at this suggestion as she began mixing the ingredients for another batch of bread. When she realized her younger sister was no longer checking the ovens, she walked over to look into the mudroom. She watched Rosetta turning the bars of goat’s milk soap she’d made the day before so they would dry properly. Rosetta was blinking rapidly, and her expression could’ve curdled milk.

  “Hey, there,” Christine murmured as she joined her sister at the small table. “You look like you bit into a lemon, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

  Rosetta looked away, angrily wiping her face with her apron. “You didn’t see how chummy Maria and Truman were?” she demanded in a quavering voice. “For all we know, she’s really moving to Promise Lodge to be closer to him—now that she’s all alone. And he looked more than happy to see her.”

  Christine’s eyes widened as she slipped an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “That’s not the impression I got,” she remarked. “Truman was merely being friendly, encouraging someone from his church, the way I saw it. And besides that, why would he be interested in Maria when he’s so crazy in love with you?”

  Rosetta inhaled deeply to settle herself. “Is he?” she whispered. “Did you see the way Amos and Monroe practically fell all over themselves to make her welcome? And the way Maria batted her lashes and widened those baby blues at them?”

  Christine considered this. During the years Rosetta had lived at the home place, she’d never hinted at any regrets or let on about how she’d sacrificed courting and marrying while she’d cared for their aging parents. She hadn’t appeared angry or depressed when her friends had introduced their beaus and fiancés, either. Yet in a matter of minutes and the passing of a basket, Maria Zehr had stirred up a major case of envy—and Rosetta was conjuring up a worst-case scenario simply because Truman had hugged their pretty young visitor. “Is that why you didn’t take Maria upstairs?”

  Rosetta arranged the bars of cream-colored soap in precise rows on the drying screen, her movements stiff and exaggerated. “I might’ve scratched her eyes out,” she replied brusquely. “I have a feeling our apple cart’s about to be upended here at the lodge apartments. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like to have beautiful blond Maria living upstairs with us, Christine. But I obviously have no say about it, because Amos and the bishop have already declared her welcome.”

  Christine sighed. What could she say to console Rosetta, to soothe her frayed nerves and convince her that her assumptions about young Maria were unfounded?

  Probably nothing. Rosetta’s so upset right now she can’t see straight, let alone see reason.

  “Tell you what,” Christine said softly. “I’ll pay special attention to Maria’s comings and goings once she moves upstairs with us—and Ruby and Beulah will be watching and listening, as well. But meanwhile, she’ll be going back
to Cloverdale and you’ll have a chance to talk things out with Truman,” she reasoned. “I bet he has no idea how he and Maria have upset you. He loves you, Rosetta. He’s made no secret of that since the moment he met you.”

  Rosetta appeared doubtful, but at least she stopped crying. “He’s a guy. He’s known her for years. He’ll deny he has any feelings for her,” she said with a sigh. “And if he knows I’ve been crying, he’ll think I’m a big baby. Please don’t tell him.”

  “My lips are sealed, and I’m on your side, little sister,” Christine murmured. “But please talk with him—sooner rather than later. This is the sort of molehill that can grow into a mountain and get blown way out of proportion, unless you deal with your feelings right away.”

  Rosetta nodded and finished lining up her bars of soap.

  Christine returned to the kitchen, sensing her sisterly advice had gone in one of Rosetta’s vulnerable ears and out the other. Perhaps she should talk to Truman herself, or to Monroe, if Rosetta continued to fret about the presence of their new renter.

  Or maybe it’s best if I leave this situation in Your hands, dear Lord, she prayed as she resumed her bread making. Only You know what’s in our hearts and minds—and whether our problems are real or imagined.

  Chapter Seven

  As Christine sat on one of the new pew benches between Mattie and Rosetta Thursday morning, her heart overflowed with happiness. Mattie’s son Roman stood in front of Bishop Monroe, appearing uncharacteristically nervous and solemn as he waited to exchange wedding vows with Mary Kate Lehman. Mary Kate was trembling, yet she held steadfastly to Roman’s elbow, determined to say and do everything just right on her wedding day.

  Christine recalled how her own knees had shaken as she’d stood before the bishop with Willis Hershberger half her lifetime ago. It occurred to her how very young she’d been, at twenty—and how blissfully unaware of the challenges, fears, and disappointments that would come after she’d pledged to be his wife until death parted them. Although she still had the occasional nightmare about the burning barn collapsing on Willis, Christine had felt great hope when she and her sisters had bought the Promise Lodge property. Who could’ve guessed how their lives would improve as they’d witnessed first Noah’s wedding to Deborah Peterscheim, and then Mattie marrying Amos at long last, and now Roman’s ceremony?

  Beside Christine, Mattie dabbed her eyes. She looked radiant, crying happy tears for her son—and perhaps recalling her own wedding to Amos three weeks ago. Christine squeezed her hand, relishing Mattie’s squeeze in return. She slipped her arms around both of her sisters, rejoicing in the life they now shared because they’d had the gumption to make a major change. They were surrounded by the women in the Peterscheim, Kurtz, and Lehman families, along with Ruby and Beulah Kuhn and the friends who’d come from Coldstream to mark this special occasion. Who could ask for more?

  Butterflies fluttered in Christine’s stomach as Bishop Monroe continued his stirring remarks.

  “I’m particularly pleased to be marrying these two fine young people,” he said in a resonant voice that filled the large meeting room. “Roman and Mary Kate stand as an example to us all of the true meaning of love, as the apostle Paul described it in his letter to the Corinthians. They personify patience and kindness. Their relationship is strong enough to bear and believe all things, to hope and endure all things that come along as they raise little David and expand their family. I believe God has wonderful blessings in store for them.”

  Christine’s heart fluttered as Monroe gazed briefly at her before continuing. How blessed they were that this stalwart man of faith had appeared just when they’d been losing Bishop Floyd to complications following his stroke. Monroe had paid for his property in full now, and he would transport his Clydesdales from Illinois as soon as his barns were ready for them. He was such an inspiration, so upbeat and positive about their faith and their future at Promise Lodge. Christine smiled, eagerly anticipating the day when she and Monroe would be saying their own wedding vows.

  Outside the lodge, on the far side of the building, Queenie barked. Noah’s Border collie was an energetic watchdog—but she might be barking at Christine’s dairy cows or at Rosetta’s goats, or just because she was tired of being by herself while everyone was inside. Christine shifted on the pew bench, focusing again on Monroe’s remarks as he prepared to lead Roman and Mary Kate in their vows.

  “I commend Roman for the way he’s been helping the Lehman family with outdoor chores, and for his ability to see beyond Mary Kate’s circumstances and love little David as his own son,” the bishop said earnestly. “And I greatly admire the Lehmans for coming here to Promise Lodge rather than expecting Mary Kate to give up her baby for adoption. I predict a healthy, positive future for—for—”

  Christine sat up straighter. Monroe had choked on his words and turned pale, his expression registering shock and something else she couldn’t define as he gaped toward the back of the meeting room. The men were peering toward the doorway, too. Christine turned with the other women to see what had made the bishop falter as though a ghost had grabbed him by the throat.

  A young woman Christine had never seen stood at the back of the room on the women’s side. She had obviously come inside despite Queenie’s barking, and had hung up her wraps in the lobby without anyone hearing her. In her brown cape dress, with her brown hair pulled up under her kapp, she resembled scores of girls who lived in every Old Order community Christine had ever visited.

  But this girl was gazing at Monroe with great love—and possessive triumph—shining in her eyes. She seemed oblivious to the fact that she’d interrupted a sacred ceremony. For several more moments she stood, holding the bishop’s attention until he cleared his throat and focused on the bride and groom again.

  “And now, Roman and Mary Kate,” Monroe continued, “you shall repeat these vows after me. I, Mary Kate—”

  “I, Mary Kate,” the bride said as she gazed at Roman.

  Christine glanced back at their unexpected guest, who’d taken a seat a few rows behind the other women. Who was she? Why had she shown up without calling or writing first? And why had her presence unnerved Monroe so much? He was leading Mary Kate and Roman in vows that had remained the same for decades and generations, but his voice had lost the exultant ring Christine admired whenever he was preaching. For the first time since she’d met Monroe, he seemed to be struggling.

  Mattie nudged Christine with her elbow, frowning. “Who is that girl?” she whispered.

  Christine shrugged, shaking her head.

  With an impatient sigh, Mattie turned her attention back to her son and his bride. The women around them shifted, their aprons whispering against their dresses, all of them surely wondering the same thing. The men across the room were still stealing glances at the newcomer. On the preachers’ bench behind Monroe, Amos, Eli, and Marlin appeared puzzled, too. They didn’t whisper among themselves, but their bearded faces expressed a doubt that went far beyond curiosity.

  Monroe had barely finished pronouncing Roman and Mary Kate husband and wife before a compelling female voice filled the room.

  “I’m here to make you an honest man, Monroe Burkholder,” the stranger announced boldly.

  Gasps filled the room as Christine and the others stood up for a better look at their visitor. What could she mean?

  “While you were still married, counseling me as I prepared to be baptized into the Old Order, you ruined me so that nobody else will have me—and no one else will satisfy me. You can run, but you can’t hide anymore.”

  In the awkward silence that followed, Roman and Mary Kate stood staring from the front of the room, where they’d been prepared to accept congratulations—except this outspoken young woman had stolen their thunder.

  Monroe froze, pressing his lips into a tight line as he considered his response. “My friends, this is Leola Duff, and she comes from my former community of Macomb, Illinois,” he finally said. “I believe dinner will soon be s
erved, so please go in and enjoy yourselves as we celebrate Mary Kate and Roman’s big day.”

  Mattie scowled. “This is unthinkable. Just plain rude,” she muttered. “What on earth does Leola think she’s doing, accusing Monroe of ruining her? Why, she can’t be half his age!”

  “I have no idea, but I suspect we’ll hear more than we care to by day’s end,” Christine said. Her insides tightened as Leola made her way toward the bishop, beaming at him. Christine had the overpowering urge to eavesdrop on the conversation between Monroe and his unexpected guest.

  As the bride and groom hurried toward the heavenly aromas drifting from the dining room, the other folks followed them, murmuring as they glanced suspiciously at Leola. Amos stepped up to accompany Mattie as she, Christine, and Rosetta reached the aisle.

  “Well, we all knew Burkholder had something to hide, arriving unannounced and not fully answering our questions,” the preacher said ominously. “And here she is.”

  As Christine followed the others to the dining room, she glanced behind her in time to see Leola standing on tiptoe to kiss Monroe’s cheek. Monroe appeared flummoxed as he took the young woman by the arm to steer her to a private place, away from prying eyes.

  What if they do a lot more than talk? Christine’s thoughts whirled like a funnel cloud. What if Monroe really did take advantage of Leola—and while he was still married to Linda? A handsome man like him—a man with charisma and power in his community—surely attracts the attention of all the women . . .

  * * *

  Monroe fought for control as he entered the short hallway behind the meeting room. This area of the lodge was mostly for storage. Wheeled racks holding metal folding chairs, podiums, and other furnishings from the days when campers worshipped here sat in the largest storeroom—but he decided against entering a room with a closed door. Leola had already shattered his reputation by announcing that he had ruined hers, so he wanted no hint of secrecy or indecency to further cloud the opinions of his new flock at Promise Lodge.