The Wedding - Writing Ex. #1

Our daughter Elizabeth came to me five months ago today. I was just coming in with the eggs. She had just finished washing the breakfast dishes. My husband Ezra was out in the barn with our sons Jonas, Amos and Nathaniel. Elizabeth stood behind me as I washed the eggs at the sink.

“Mama,” she said, her voice sounding hollow and odd. “I have to talk to you about something.”

My Elizabeth is seventeen and our only daughter. Her birth, after delivering three boys, was a great joy to us, especially to me. She was a good baby and started being a help to me in the garden when she was only four years old. She was smart in her schoolwork, her teacher told us. Using her cleverness with numbers, she helped her father with the farm books. I’ve always been very proud of Elizabeth. The sound of her voice now was putting a grip of fear around my heart. I clutched the two eggs in my hands almost hard enough to crack their brown shells.

“What is it, Elizabeth? We don’t have time to chatter our day away. We have the tomatoes to can.”

“I know, Mama, but this can’t wait.” Now tears were coming, I could hear it in her voice. “I think there might be something wrong, and I have to tell you.”

“Elizabeth!” I said, “What is it, just say it!” I turned to her and laid the eggs on the dish cloth to dry. I was afraid I would drop them at any moment.

“Me and Samuel… Mama… I don’t know, but I think maybe I’m going to be having a baby.”

I closed my eyes as the words hit me like hailstones.

“No!”

The word escaped my lips at the same moment that my heart said, yes, this is what had been going on with Elizabeth. This is why she had been so quiet. This is why she was sick in the mornings, it wasn’t the flu. Her breasts rounding, her clothes growing snug over her middle. Now it all came together at once.

“Elizabeth, have you and Samuel done anything that could cause you to have a baby?”

“Yes, Mama,” she stuttered as tears ran down her plump cheeks and dropped off her chin unimpeded. “Only once. We were in the barn, checking on his mare. His Mama and Papa were in town for the day. It was a Wednesday.”

Being born and raised on a farm with all kinds of animals, Elizabeth knew how babies were made and came into this world. I didn’t question that she might have it wrong.

I leaned against the cupboards, my back to the sink. Shutting my eyes I willed myself not to cry. I could cry later. Right now I had to think. I had to have my wits about me and decide what to do.

Elizabeth came to me and my arms automatically went around her. The tears on her cheek transferred to mine as I hugged her tightly to my body. She was trembling all over and now started to sob in earnest.

“How long ago, Elizabeth? How long ago was this Wednesday when it happened?”

“It was the second Wednesday in May. It was that day I took the strawberry jam over to Samuel’s Mama but his folks had already left for town. We went down to the barn. His mare was about to foal. He’s so proud of her.” She hiccupped and shuddered in my arms. I moved my hands to the back of her head and moved my cheek to her hair. She smelled like grass.

“And something happened in the barn?” I hoarsely whispered in her ear.

“Yes. We sat down on some bales of hay. Samuel kissed me. We’ve been kissing for a long time. Then other things happened.”

Samuel. He’d been courting for a little over a year now, since last summer. They became a couple in the community that Fall when they went to several weddings and auctions together in Samuel’s buggy. We all expected them to announce they’d be marrying in November, as soon as the harvest was put up. Elizabeth’s Grandmother started a quilt last January in dark maroon and black, letting her tiny stitches bring the fabric to life. Maroon being Elizabeth’s favorite color, we all knew why she was making the quilt. It would cover Elizabeth and Samuel’s marriage bed. It was just a matter of time.

Putting my hands on my daughter’s shoulders, I pushed her back and looked at her stricken face. She looked down and would not meet my eyes.

“You know what has to happen for a baby to be made. Did that happen, are you sure?”

“Yes, Mama.” She said in a hoarse whisper.

“Does Samuel know?”

“I… I told him last Sunday after the meeting. At first he wouldn’t believe me. He said because it only happened once, but he knows. He knows that’s enough. I saw him Wednesday at Yoder’s store and he talked to me around back. He asked me if I was sure. I told him yes. I haven’t had a monthly since that day in the barn.”

“Oh, Elizabeth.” I pulled her back to me as she sobbed aloud.

Think! I had to think! Elizabeth and Samuel had both already been through their Rumpspringing days, when our children get to cut loose and be a bit wild. Neither of them went crazy like a few do. I know Elizabeth owned a pair of Wrangler blue jeans for awhile and that she snuck them out and wore them in town sometimes, but the jeans were gone and the Rumpspringing for Elizabeth over. Samuel had gone to some parties with Englishers in town, but he was nineteen now and settled down working the farm with his father. Ezra and I liked him and knew he would be a good match for Elizabeth.

“We have to get straightened out before your father comes in. Did Samuel say anything about marrying?”

Elizabeth took a deep breath and dropped her arms from around me.

“He said to talk to you. He asked me did Papa know yet. I told him no and neither did you. I think he is afraid Papa will kill him.” Her chin trembled and she squeezed her eyes shut. I knew she was thinking about how this would hurt her father. I was thinking of the same thing.

“You go today, this morning, and ask Samuel to come to supper tonight. We have to talk about this with him. And we have to tell Papa.”

Picking up a clean dishcloth from the countertop, I wiped Elizabeth’s face just like I’d done a thousand times when she was a little one.

“Now stop crying and get yourself ready to go ask Samuel to come here tonight. Let’s not let Papa see you like this.”

She took the cloth from my hands and wiped her eyes and her nose, sniffling and coughing. When she was finished she stood up straight and took my hand.

“Mama, I’m so sorry. You know I wouldn’t hurt you on purpose. It just happened and then we promised it would never happen again until we got married, and it hasn’t. But it’s too late!”

“No more crying. Go wash your face with cold water and change your apron before you go to Samuel’s.”

She turned and walked away from me towards the backdoor and the washstand, untying her soiled apron as she went. I put my hands over my face for a moment and took a deep breath.

This wasn’t the end of the world, I reminded myself. Things like this happen, even in our community. Anytime there are males and females spending time alone together, nature will take it’s course. The Bible says it is better to marry than to burn. Some of our youngsters marry at fifteen or sixteen and settle down and start families. Elizabeth was seventeen, Samuel two years older than that. We would have to talk to the Elders and work everything out with Samuel’s family. They were headed for marriage anyway. Things would just have to be moved up. Our family would be the topic of the whispers buzzing about the community for awhile, but then someone would do something to take the attention elsewhere.

Picking up an egg from the counter, I started to wipe them off again before putting them in the gas powered refrigerator busily humming against the far wall. I thought of killing a chicken for dinner tonight but decided ham and beans were good enough for this occasion. I doubted if Elizabeth or I would take more than a bite, anyway.

Samuel was on our porch promptly at 4:30 that afternoon. He took off his hat as I opened the screen door for him and his hair was still damp from his after work cleanup. I couldn’t look him in the face and he kept his eyes lowered.

“Elizabeth asked me to come,” he said in a husky voice as he handled his hat. His pale cheeks blushed crimson.

I gestured to the pegs where Samuel had hung his hat a hundred times before and went into the kitchen to set the table. I hadn’t seen Elizabeth since she’d come back from Samuel’s at noon. I didn’t know what she had told Samuel besides inviting him to supper. I couldn’t talk to him. Not just now. There would be time for talking after eating.

I heard Elizabeth’s steps on the staircase. She stopped half way down.

“Samuel. I’m glad you came.” Her voice sounded much stronger than this morning.

“Did you think I wouldn’t? Of course I’m here,” he said, and Elizabeth came the rest of the way down the stairs. I busied myself setting the table, trying to concentrate on the tasks at hand.

When Elizabeth’s Papa came in from the barn, his voice sounded surprised when he greeted Samuel. It was unusual for a social call to happen on a Thursday. Especially at this time of year when the harvest was just beginning.

Ezra walked into the kitchen and looked at me hard. I looked back and as our eyes locked, I nodded. His shoulders slumped. He gripped the back of an oak chair that had belonged to his great-grandparents. The boys came in, one slapping the other and the third quiet as usual. Elizabeth and Samuel came into the room. Elizabeth wouldn’t look at her Papa. She kept her eyes lowered as she crossed the room and started slicing the cornbread cooling on the sideboard.

Ezra didn’t kill Samuel that night, of course. After supper I told the boys they could go fishing for an hour and all three whooped in delight and hurried to get their fishing poles from the shed. Elizabeth and I had cleared the supper dishes from the table and we both sat down again with the men, who had not moved from their seats since sitting down to eat.

Elizabeth cried but I held my tears. I was too proud to cry in front of Samuel. Ezra and I would cry later at bedtime. This was the time for common sense and decisions, not tears and blame.

It was decided that Ezra and I would meet with Samuel’s folks the next day at noon. Two weeks from Saturday would be the best time for a wedding. Tomorrow, if the Horsts agreed, we’d send a message to Elder Schmidt that we needed to speak to him on Saturday.

The Horsts were a bit shocked by the news. We stood in their yard in the shade of a giant oak tree and told them about the children. Ezra flushed pink and put his eyes on the ground when Katie Horst gasped and asked if we were sure it was Samuel. I tried not to show anger when I replied but it was hard to turn the other cheek from those few stinging words.

The next two weeks drug by slowly. Elizabeth and I were busy hemming dishcloths and pillow cases every evening. There wouldn’t be time for any embroidery or applique on any of Elizabeth’s marriage linens. But she would take to her in-laws home two good sets of new sheets, a goose down comforter, a dozen tea towels and a dozen dishcloths, down bed pillows, six new bath towels, and a beautiful maroon and black quilt.

Elizabeth’s Grandmother, like her aunts and uncles, seemed to take the news in stride. No one spoke out against Elizabeth or Samuel. I’m sure there were many things whispered about them but that couldn’t be helped. Our community was close knit and everyone heard everyone else’s business. That’s just the way we live.

Elizabeth and Samuel’s wedding day dawned warm and bright. It would be hot in the kitchen. By noon the yard and driveway were filled with buggies. Everyone turned out, of course. All the women brought baskets of food and canned goods. The home-canned tomatoes, green beans, corn and pork were gifts to the newlyweds to take with them to the Horst’s. Samuel being the oldest son, he and Elizabeth would live with his Mama and Papa and eventually take over the running of the Horst’s acreage. They would have a good life. I told myself that over and over as I worked alone in the kitchen early that morning. I would miss my daughter. I bit my lips several times and held back my feelings. This was a day for work and the celebration of God’s love. I reminded myself that God had a plan and that although I didn’t always understand that plan, I was sure He was in charge of our universe.

Elizabeth, wearing her new black dress, black bonnet, new apron, and Samuel, in a clean black jacket and pants, his shirt boiled white, stood in front of Elder Schmidt and murmured their vows. For a moment Ezra touched my hand and I knew he was having the same feelings that I felt. After the prayer, we all went out into the cool shade in the yard. The boys had set up six plank tables under the trees. Now each table was full of food and plates; the wedding luncheon.

While we ate, Elizabeth’s brothers and some of the other boys snuck off and tied some old boots and tin cans to the back of Samuel’s buggy. The newly wedded couple would leave the luncheon first and go to Samuel’s home. The older Horsts wouldn’t leave for an hour or so, letting the new husband and wife have a bit of privacy before going home and helping their new daughter-in-law settle into the household.

I noticed women glance at Elizabeth’s middle that day. Those who didn’t know about Elizabeth’s condition first hand had guessed it anyway. November was the month for weddings in our community, not the last of September. When a wedding happened at another time, there were always whispers and nods of speculation, and they were usually right. Ezra and I held our chins high, not in false pride, but in determination not to be ashamed of our child.

Finally it was time for the young couple to leave. Elizabeth’s brothers helped us load the buggy with Elizabeth’s house plunder and canned food. As Elizabeth hugged me goodbye I squeezed her extra hard and patted her back. Her Papa kissed her on both cheeks, a rare public demonstration of affection. I knew he would miss having Elizabeth at home, too. He shook Samuel’s hand and called him son. I forced a smile as I waved at the buggy. There was a lot of work yet to do, cleaning up all the celebration food and washing the dishes, but many hands make for light work. The other women toiled beside me as we talked of how many quarts of this and that we had canned and where the blueberry bushes were already bearing fruit.

During the smallest hours of the night last night we heard a knock at our side door, the one nearest the driveway. Our dog was barking, but halfheartedly because he knew the caller. Ezra opened the door to find Samuel with his fist raised, about to knock again.

“It’s Elizabeth! It’s her time. Mama said to come get Elizabeth’s Mama.” His breath came out in white clouds against the dark. It was terribly cold outside.

And so I went with my son-in-law Samuel, through the dark night, sitting beside him in the buggy with a wool blanket over my legs to ward off the cold. Samuel kept the horse stepping sharp and we were turning up the Horst’s driveway in twenty minutes.

Two hours later, just as a frozen sun broke across the horizon, my Elizabeth delivered her first child. They named the baby Rachel Ruth. I didn’t know Elizabeth and Samuel had planned to use my first name as their baby’s middle name. I felt tears gather in my eyes as Elizabeth held the baby, smiling up at me.

“Meet Rachel Ruth, Mama. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Samuel, in the room for the first time since his wife had gone into labor, leaned over the bed and rubbed the baby’s tiny fist with his big, work calloused finger. She immediately grabbed hold and Samuel’s smile for Elizabeth brightened my heart even more.

The photograph of Elizabeth and Samuel was taken by an Englisher friend of mine, Mrs. Nancy Allen. She is our neighbor to the west. She knows that we don’t hold with having our photo taken, but two weeks after the wedding she came by with three acorn squash for me and that photo. I keep it hidden in the bottom of my sewing basket. Maybe someday I will throw the forbidden photograph away. But just now, when I am lonely for my girl, I go to my sewing basket, take out the photograph, and run my finger over her smiling face and I say a prayer for God to watch over her, Rachel Ruth, and Samuel.