Arms of Love (42 page)

Ruth’s eyes filled with tears, and she murmured aloud, “God is for you . . .” Samuel moved to slide a hand onto her shoulder.

“What happened?” John asked from the edge of the room where he’d been bustled in the excitement of the room.

Bishop Mast rose from before the fireplace and went to stand over the cradle. “Praise the Lord!
Gott
has healed your sister, John.”

Ruth caressed Faith’s chest, then accepted her own baby from Ellen’s arms. “Thank you, Isaac,” she whispered.

“
Ya
,” Samuel said. “How can we ever thank you?”

Ruth looked up to see Isaac’s face flush red, and he backed away with hands raised. “
Nee, sei se gut
, this was nothing to do with me.

Please give all the praise to the Lord.”

Bishop Mast nodded. “The boy speaks aright; all praise to our Fater in heaven.” He clapped Isaac on the shoulder. “We will have
gut
journeys together,
sohn
. You have the good sense not to garner praise for yourself, and that is a fair start to wisdom.”

Ruth watched Isaac murmur a thank-you; he was clearly stunned by what had happened.

But she, as she cuddled Faith close, knew only peace and a deep sense of thankfulness for another way that God had chosen to show that He was indeed “for her.”

Late that evening everyone was abed, the trauma with the baby past.

Joseph sat alone for a few minutes in the overcrowded house, thinking over the day, when Ellen came to his side.

“You should be abed, my dear,” he said as she knelt next to his chair.

“’Twill be quite a day tomorrow—one boy leaving, the other marrying.

I should imagine that you are a bundle of nerves and would seek solace in sleep.”

“I would seek solace with you,” she said.

He glanced down at her, at this shy admission, and sighed.

“I know, Ellen, that I have not always been the best of husbands to you. My dealings with Adam, my temper and moodiness . . . There were many times over the years that I might have given you a sound word of praise and never did. You are a wonderful wife and mother. I am sorry for the boys we lost. I’ve never said that before.”

“
Nee
, you have not, but I accept it now and it brings peace to me.

I want to say, Joseph, that you seem different since the attack of the animal. I cannot explain it, but I—like it all the same.”

He leaned forward and twisted in his chair to cup her face in his hands with gentle fingers. “
Ach
, Ellen,
danki
for seeing a change in me for the better. I hope to continue to change, to improve, in all the ways that the Lord allows. That I might be a blessing and not a curse to you and our new
kinner
.”

“Never a curse, Joseph . . . never. I have always loved you. I always will.”

He bent and pressed his mouth to her eager one with a great deal of tenderness, kissing her for long minutes, until the fire in the hearth became jewel-like coals.

Chapter 40

L
ena rose before dawn, and the day of the weddings began. To her, it passed in a blur of minute details that each seemed something she would never forget: fresh flowers from the field that Abby arranged in mason jars to decorate the downstairs, a hearty search for hairpins to subdue Ruth’s red hair in proper Amish fashion, an anxious and hearty cry from Isaac for shoe polish, her own wedding dressing.

At last she stood breathless and ready at the top of the stairsteps. She had brushed her best dark brown dress until it looked nearly new and had ironed and starched her apron and prayer covering until they fell into immaculate folds. A door opened to her left, and John came out, looking stiff and hot in a high collar and Sunday best suit coat.

“You look pretty, Lena,” he said.

She smiled, knowing what that kind of remark cost a young boy. Ignoring his gruff expression, she reached to straighten his collar. “And you are very handsome, John Yoder. ’Twill not be long before you too will be—”

He held up a firm hand. “Do not speak of it. I’ve had tales from Adam and Isaac nearly half the night. I prefer my art and farming . . . There need never be a
mawd
for me.”

She laughed, and he offered her a formal arm in the manner of the British. She took it with tender fingertips and they proceeded downstairs.

The keeping room had been mostly cleared of furniture, except for long wood-hewn benches that matched the brightly painted pattern on the floor. It had taken until yesterday for the floor to be finished, and Lena had feared that they might have to marry in the kitchen as she struggled to stop watching the paint dry.

Everyone was gathered in their best dress, and Lena felt a quiver of excitement go down her straight spine as she met Adam’s gaze. He wore both a vest and a frock coat of brown, and his breeches were fit in an expert manner, setting off his white hose and dark shoes. She met his eyes and knew a great surge of confidence as the golden eyes gleamed with deep approval of her appearance. She felt encompassed and loved by his look and walked toward him as if in a dream.

They stood side by side, with her father and Ruth opposite, as the bishop performed a rather light and cheerful ceremony. As he reminded them, he and Isaac had to make haste for another wedding he’d been sent word of only that morning.

The sunshine poured in through the windows, and within minutes Lena found herself the wife of Adam Wyse. It all seemed a dream until he caught her in his strong arms and kissed her once and hard.

Then he let her go to be bussed by one and all, and she did the same with Ruth and her father.

Then she was in Adam’s arms again, and the delights of the food and the day were nothing compared to the surpassing knowledge of his love.

Ruth Yoder
. . . The name tasted oddly delicious on her tongue as she tried it out while taking a few moments out of the fun day to nurse Mary. She had finished and readjusted the odd pins of her new dress when a tentative knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” she called.

Samuel entered smilingly with Abby in tow.

“It seems a certain little girl feels a bit lost in all of the doings of the day. I told her she looked pretty with her starched apron, but I do not seem to be able to satisfy somehow. I think she needs a woman’s touch.”

Ruth reached up and handed Mary to Samuel, who left, quietly closing the door behind him.

“So, a new woman in the house to stay, Abby, me love? Do ye feel a bit lost over it all?”

“
Ya
.” The little girl nibbled at her thumb, and Ruth struggled not to smile with affection at the sight.

“I would be a mite shook up over things too, if it were me. I suppose one thing ye’re thinkin’ is that ye might have to call me Mum . . . er,
Mamm
. Am I right?”

Abby looked at her with earnest blue eyes. “
Ach, ya
, Ruth. I want to call you
Mamm
, but I do not feel like I want to do it yet. Is that all right?”

Ruth held out her arms, and Abby came to cuddle on her lap. “It is more than fine, dearie. Ye call me Ruth as long as ye like, and you can tell John to do the same.”

Abby hugged her joyfully. “
Ach, danki
, Ruth.”

Ruth smiled and knew a feeling of contentment that surpassed any other time in her life—she decided it was joy.

The bishop had pulled up a slight distance ahead so that the family might say their farewells to Isaac. Now the rest had gone inside, leaving Adam alone with his brother.

Adam fooled with the saddle girth of the pack mule and ran his hands over the small bundles of belongings. “Everything seems weather tight. Expect you’ll get a lot of rain up in the mountains.”

Isaac laughed softly. “Will we be reduced to talking about the weather to say good-bye, Adam?”

Adam raised his head, a smile on his lips. “
Nee
—I will miss you true.”

“And I you.”

Adam caught his brother’s hand in a firm grasp, then pulled him close for a hug. “
Danki
. . . for everything, Isaac.”

“I will expect to dawdle a newborn on my lap next year, Adam.

Being an uncle suits the dignity of a bishop.”

Adam slapped him on the back. “I will give the matter some attention.”

Isaac laughed and mounted the mule, leaving Adam to wave him off with the bishop, a curious feeling of loss in his stomach as he muttered a prayer for his brother’s welfare.

Chapter 41