Johanna's Bridegroom (9 page)

But his day wasn’t all bad. Johanna was actually speaking to him, and they were having a good time. Once she’d gotten over her annoyance that they were spending the day together, she’d begun to act more like her old self. It was good to see her laugh. They’d always found things to talk about, and today was no exception. Johanna never hesitated to give her opinion, but she wasn’t one of those women who always had to dominate the conversation. She was a good listener, and when she listened to him, he felt as if she really paid attention to what he said.

Roland kept coming back to the same conclusion—that if he and Johanna ever could work out their differences, she would make a good partner. She was the kind of woman who could hold up her end of the marriage, a strong woman, a woman who wouldn’t fall to pieces if misfortune came. She was the kind of woman he was looking for.

He’d loved Pauline; he really had. She’d been a good wife, but her poor health had often made her sad or worried. She’d become fearful for J.J. in the last year before her death, so much so that at times they knocked heads over what was best for the boy. She’d wanted to protect J.J. so badly that Roland often felt shut out of his own son’s life. Still, Pauline’s passing had hit them both hard. Never a night did he lay his head on the pillow to sleep that he didn’t remember to pray for her, and to hope that she and the children that she’d miscarried were safe in God’s care.

But Pauline was in heaven and he was here. A decent time had passed since her death, and he’d felt that it was time to move on with his life...time to give J.J. a new mother and time for him to have a wife and, God willing, more children. He wanted Johanna Yoder to be that wife. He couldn’t picture any other woman walking beside him in the garden or sitting across the supper table and sharing evening grace. He could see Johanna there, her sweet heart-shaped face, those wide blue eyes so full of wisdom, and the soft curve of her mouth when she smiled.

Was it so wrong of him to want her to love him? To want to put the mistakes he’d made in the past? To want more than an arranged marriage as his parents’ had been? His
mam
and
dat
respected each other and worked well together. He could never remember his mother raising her voice in anger to his father. They had reared three children and buried two more.
Dat’s
farm was a well-maintained one, and the family had never suffered real want. His parents were faithful to church and were good neighbors, never ones to cause trouble or dissension in the community. But Roland had never felt that there was a powerful man’s and woman’s love between his mother and father. And, selfishly, he wanted that. He wanted Johanna to love him so badly that if she couldn’t, he was pretty sure he would walk away.

But was he thinking wrongly? According to the way he’d been raised, a marriage was supposed to be for family, for community, for carrying on God’s work and raising children in the faith. A marriage was not to fulfill the selfish desires of a man and a woman, so a marriage of convenience was as good a way to form a family as a romantic attraction between couples. Young people were expected to listen to their parents and the elders of the church. Mature friends and relatives who knew the prospective couple were often in a better position to provide sound advice on the suitability of the match than the girl and boy themselves.

Roland couldn’t accept that. Marriage was for life. If he didn’t choose well, if he picked a woman he found difficult to live with, he wanted to be solely responsible.
Be honest.
He wanted desperately for Johanna Yoder to love him.

Another trout flopped wildly on the deck between him and Johanna. “You can have that one,” she teased. “I wouldn’t want you to go home without anything to cook for J.J.’s supper.”

He chuckled. “Thanks, but the truth is, if I fried it, it wouldn’t be fit for J.J. or me to eat.”

The mate removed Johanna’s fish from her hook and carried it to the fish box. “Maybe Cap’n should hire you to show the others how to catch fish,” he said.

Johanna laughed and glanced at Roland as the mate walked away. “You have an oven. Frying isn’t the only way to cook fish. You could bake it, or even make a fish stew.”

“But fried fish sounds good.” Roland caught her line and carefully baited her hook with a fresh piece of squid. “
Mam
always served it with johnnycake or corn bread. Maybe you could come over and cook it for me.”

She arched an eyebrow. “And why would I want to do that?”

“Charity.” He thrust out his upper lip, pretending to look forlorn. “Pity on a poor widower who needs a decent meal. And his young, undernourished son,” he added.

She tried not to smile, but she couldn’t help herself. “Roland. I don’t think my making suppers for you is such a good—”

“Truce, right?”

She was laughing now.
“Ya,”
she agreed.

“And we’re friends again?” he urged.

“
Ya,
I suppose we are friends.”

“Then, as a friend, I could ask you to cook for me the fish that you have so graciously offered to share.”

She cast her baited line over the edge of the boat, and the lead sinker pulled it down. She kept her eyes on the line where it disappeared into the water, but he knew he had her attention.

“Come on, Johanna.” He could tell by the look on her face that she was about to give in. “There’s nothing wrong with friends sharing a meal, is there? And three children should be chaperone enough to spare either of our reputations.”

“Maybe I could whip you up some fried fish tonight,” she said. “It wouldn’t take long to make.”

“I’ve got cornmeal.”

“I’d need flour and shortening and milk.”

“Got them.”

“And we’d have to pick up my children first. I’ll not come to your house alone and be the subject of loose talk.”

“Fair enough,” he said.

The tip of her fishing pole dipped. She let it go, then yanked back hard when it dipped again. The resulting tug was so hard that she nearly lost her balance. Roland dropped his own pole, threw his arms around her and gripped her fishing rod. There was a fierce pull and then the line snapped.

Roland stood where he was, holding Johanna in his arms for a few seconds. “Roland!” she protested. From somewhere, he heard Charley’s laughter.

“Sorry.” Reluctantly, Roland released her. “I was afraid that fish might pull you in.”

She gave him a look as if he was up to no good, but she was onto him. “I doubt that.”

“It was huge. Might have been anything. A shark—even a whale.”

“A whale?” She began to laugh. “You’re impossible.”

He laughed with her, and it felt good to be standing on the deck of a rocking boat in the June sunshine, but not nearly as good as holding her for that brief scrap of time.

Chapter Nine

B
y the time Johanna and the others arrived home from the fishing trip, it was too late to bring her children to Roland’s farm for a fish supper. They’d had a busy day and were already sitting down to a cold supper. Instead, when her mother offered to keep Katy and Jonah, Johanna invited Susanna and Aunt Jezzy to come as chaperones. It was a good decision because it was after eight o’clock when Johanna and Susanna got the promised meal on Roland’s table.

Aunt Jezzy contributed her famous wild dandelion and lettuce salad, rich with hard-cooked eggs and Swiss cheese, and a loaf of her delicious potato sponge bread. All Johanna had to do was roll the fish filets in egg, flour and cornmeal and fry to a golden brown.
Mam
sent along a Dutch apple tart for a sweet, and Susanna’s contribution was a plate of anise cookies that she’d baked that afternoon.

“I made them for King David,” Susanna said, proudly showing Johanna the plate of cookies as they set the food on the table. “Me. For King David. For after church. But you...you can have some.”

“They look wonderful,” Johanna said as she set the platter of crispy fish on the table with the other dishes.

Roland and his sister Mary came downstairs from tucking J.J. into bed and joined them in the kitchen. Mary had spent the day with J.J. and had given him his supper earlier. She would be sharing the fish fry with them.

Mary lived with her and Roland’s parents about four miles away in another church district, one that held Sunday services on a different schedule than the Seven Poplars community. Since tomorrow was a Visiting Sunday for her, Charley had invited her to spend the night and attend church service in Seven Poplars. Afterward, he could drive her home in his buggy.

When Mary protested that she hadn’t brought her Sunday-go-to-church dress and bonnet, Johanna assured her that she could loan her something suitable. So, instead of spending the night with Roland, it was arranged that Mary would sleep over at the Yoder farm.

Johanna was pleased. She and Mary had been friends since they were children, and she knew her whole family would enjoy visiting with her. Besides, Johanna welcomed the opportunity to get Mary alone so that she could ask her exactly what Charley had told her about Roland’s refusal to marry her. Johanna also was eager to find out to whom Mary had passed on the tale.

Roland had made it clear that he didn’t care what other people might believe, but it mattered to Johanna, and she wouldn’t be satisfied until she tracked the false gossip to its source. She didn’t believe for a moment that Roland would be dishonest about what he told Charley, but she would feel better once she found out who had become confused and was spreading false information about her.

Everyone gathered at Roland’s table and lowered their heads for silent grace. Johanna had to remind herself that these sacred moments were for being thankful to God for his blessings, not for remembering how much fun she’d had today, or for wondering if the fish had cooked through. Frying fish was an art. She had her own secret for the coating, but if the fish was overdone, it would be a shame.

Chastising herself for failing in grace, she allowed a quiet moment to flow through her, and her unspoken words of thankful praise poured out in truly heartfelt passion. She had so much to be grateful for, and those around her were a large part of her life—even Roland, as much as she hated to admit it.

“Johanna.”

Susanna’s merry voice cut through her thoughts. Johanna opened her eyes to see everyone looking at her expectantly.

Susanna’s mouth puckered with impatience. “Can we eat
now?
” she begged. “I’m hungry...an’ the fish...the fish smells so
gut.
”

“Of course.” Johanna smiled in spite of her discomfort that she’d kept everyone waiting.
Dear, dear Susanna. Trust her to bring me back from my self-absorption.
Cheeks glowing with embarrassment, Johanna passed the heaping plate of fish to Roland. As he accepted the platter, their gazes met and warm pleasure made her want to giggle as lightheartedly as Susanna.

Aunt Jezzy passed the salad, and soon everyone was laughing and talking. There was something about Roland’s house that made them all feel comfortable. It wasn’t as large as
Mam’s,
and the kitchen had lower ceilings and open chestnut beams overhead, but Johanna found it charming.
People have been happy here.

And from deep inside came the disquieting thought,
Maybe I could be happy here, too.

Johanna banished the wispy dream. Best to enjoy the moment...the evening of family and friends. With Mary, Susanna and Aunt Jezzy here, she quickly shed the awkwardness that being alone with Roland so often brought on. She could relax and be herself. And she could delight in Roland’s exaggerated stories about the huge fish that bit on his line but somehow managed to escape after prolonged battles, fabrications that they all knew were just for fun.

To her delight, the fish was perfect, bursting with flavor, crunchy on the outside and succulent on the inside. The preachers taught that pride was contrary to plain living, but she couldn’t help taking secret satisfaction from Roland’s compliments on the supper.

He’d always made her laugh, and tonight was no exception. The friendship between them made conversation so easy and the meal so much fun. Johanna was just sorry that it had been too late in the day for Katy and Jonah to join them. It seemed strange not to have their sweet faces looking back at her across the table. Next time, she would make certain that all three children could share the meal with them. Next time...

Don’t be foolish
.
Why would there be more suppers at Roland’s house?

“What I want to know, Johanna,” Roland said as he reached for another slice of Aunt Jezzy’s sponge bread, “is how you caught so many more fish than me?” He made such a sad face that Susanna giggled. “We used the same bait and we were fishing in the same spot. What’s your secret?”

Johanna chuckled. “You really want to know?” And when he nodded, she shrugged. “It’s simple, Roland. Every time I bait my hook and drop it overboard, I pray.”

* * *

“I didn’t tell anyone but my mother that you and Roland had discussed marriage,” Mary confided the next morning as she and Johanna walked down the farm lane to the main road. Katy and Jonah trailed behind them, chattering to each other. Roman and Fannie’s chair shop, where church would be held today, stood at the intersection of Seven Poplars Road and School Lane, just down the street.

Mary lowered her voice. “And I told her what Roland told me...that he had not consented,” she said, putting it delicately. “At least for now.”

“I just can’t understand it,” Johanna said. She tried to focus on the purpose of the conversation and not the confusing emotions that kept popping up. “Somehow the story got turned around.”

She and Mary wore identical dark blue dresses and aprons, black bonnets and black leather shoes. Small Katy’s dress was a pale robin’s-egg blue, but her prayer
Kapp
was white and her apron crackly-stiff with starch. Jonah wore a white shirt, black trousers and a black vest over his new high-top leather boots. His straw hat was new as well, because he’d outgrown his last hat. This one had just arrived Friday from the mail-order house where
Mam
had always purchased the items of clothing that they couldn’t make.

“It was kind of your mother to lend me your sister’s dress and bonnet,” Mary said. “I’ve been wanting to attend your services. I should have thought to bring my good clothes when I came to watch J.J.”

“
Ne.
It’s no problem. With so many women in our house, there are always extra dresses,” Johanna assured her.

Mary was closer to Leah’s size than Johanna’s, so
Mam
had fetched Leah’s church dress out of her Old German marriage chest. “I know Leah wouldn’t mind,” Johanna continued. Since her sister had turned Mennonite and gone to Brazil as a missionary with her new husband, the dress had lain unused.
Mam
kept it carefully wrapped in tissue paper and sprinkled with dried basil and rosemary to ward off moths.

“But it was still nice of your
mam,
” Mary said. They walked on a little farther, waited until no cars were passing and crossed the road, the children still a few steps behind them. “About what you asked me before...about the talk. Maybe it’s best to let it all drop.”

“But I need to get to the bottom of this,” Johanna said.

“No, you don’t. You need to just let it go. It’s not important.”

Johanna’s first impulse was to disagree, but she knew there was truth to what Mary was saying.

“The gossip about you and Roland will die down on its own,” Mary suggested. “If you two aren’t going to walk out together, word will get around.”

Johanna knew that Mary was disappointed that things hadn’t worked out between the two of them. She’d been as eager as Ruth and Anna for the match.
Roland’s mother, Deborah, probably not as much
.

Deborah Byler had been born and raised in Kentucky in a very strict community and made it clear that she didn’t approve of the Yoder girls—or of Widow Hannah Yoder, for that matter.
Mam’s
choice to remain single and teach school instead of remarrying was still something of a scandal in the other Kent County church districts. Their own church community here in Seven Poplars and Bishop Atlee, thankfully, accepted
Mam
for the blessing she was.

When Charley and Miriam had been courting, Mary had told Johanna that their mother expressed doubt that Miriam was right for her son.

Apparently, Deborah was shocked at Miriam’s doing fieldwork and seeing to the livestock, rather than tending to traditional women’s chores in the house. In Deborah’s opinion, all the Yoder women showed a lack of superior values and were altogether too headstrong to make proper wives. But
Mam
said that she would rather her girls be outspoken than to make judgments about people they’d never taken the effort to get to know.

“There’s the bench wagon!” Jonah cried, pointing to a low, enclosed vehicle parked in the side yard of the chair shop. “Look,
Mam!
I helped Uncle Charley bring it from the Beachys’. He let me drive the team.”

Johanna arched an eyebrow. “Uncle Charley let you drive? On the road?”

No family had enough chairs for the entire church. Instead, each community had their own collection of folding benches that they carried from house to house every two weeks. When Roman and Fannie hosted church, service was held in the large workshop, rather than in their home, because the house was too small to accommodate the congregation. The previous day, Charley, Eli, Roman and Irwin had cleaned the woodshop and set up the benches and chairs. Preparations for church were always done the previous day because no work could be done on Sunday. Johanna was pleased that Charley and Eli had thought to include Jonah. Without a father, it was important that he learn from other men how to be helpful.

Jonah’s cheeks flushed cherry-red under his wide-brimmed straw hat. “
Ne.
I didn’t really drive...but I held the reins,” he added quickly. “And I helped Uncle Eli sweep the workshop, too.”

“Irwin said you did,” Johanna agreed. “He told me that you were a big help.”

Jonah grinned. “I was.”

“I hear Eli’s a partner in Roman’s chair shop now,” Mary said as they drew closer to the chair shop.

Johanna nodded. “You probably know that it was my father who started the business. It did so well that he needed a partner, so he asked his friend Roman to move down from Pennsylvania. Roman hired Eli, and after Eli and Ruth married,
Mam
gave her interest in the chair shop to them as a wedding gift. It would please
Dat,
I know. Eli’s a fine craftsman.”

“And a good businessman, I hear,” Mary said. “So my father says. We heard he just got a contract for building reproduction furniture for some English museum.”

“It works out well that Eli and Ruth got
Mam’s
share of the shop,” Johanna said. “Because she means for Charley and Miriam to take over the farm someday. Charley is a hard worker, and he’ll care for the land.”

“Both my brothers are good farmers,” Mary said, quickly defending Roland. “They’re both hard workers.”

“Everyone says Roland has done wonders with that farm,” Johanna agreed.

A horse and buggy passed them and turned into the parking lot at the front of the shop. A small boy’s face, framed in a straw hat, was pressed against the back window.

Jonah squealed and waved. “
Mam,
it’s Benjy! Can I go talk to him?”

“Run on,” Johanna said, “but stay out from under the horses’ hooves. Don’t get dirty, and don’t you dare come into service late.”

“Me, too,” Katy echoed. “I can go, too.”

“Ne.”
Johanna took a firm grip on Katy’s hand. “You stay with me.”

“There’s Lydia.” Mary looked to Johanna. “Do you mind if I say hello before service?”

“Of course not. We’ll see you inside.”

Buggies were lined up on the far side of the parking lot, and women were carrying baskets and covered dishes around the building. Mary called to Lydia Beachy and hurried to help her carry one of the two baskets in her hands. Since it was a fair June day with no sign of rain, they would take the communal after-services meal outside at long tables.

Mam
would be coming soon with Susanna, Rebecca and Aunt Jezz. There would be coolers full of ham sandwiches, potato salad, coleslaw, pickled beets and fruit pies. Since no cooking could be done on Church Sunday, all the food for the midday dinner had been prepared the previous day or earlier in the week.
Mam
was bringing a large wedge of cheddar, a three-bean salad, a basket of whoopee pies and—of course—Susanna’s anise cookies.

Johanna loved Visiting Sundays, but she also cherished the peace and inner joy of Church Sundays.
Food for the soul.
Singing the old hymns, joining together in prayer with her friends and neighbors, listening to the preachers’ sermons—those treasures of the heart gave her the strength to carry on through all the days in between.