Johanna's Bridegroom (16 page)

“Will you stop talking for just one minute,” she said, “and let me speak my piece?” Tears filled her eyes and spilled over, catching the sunlight and sparkling on her freckled cheeks. “I’m not breaking up with you,
dummkopf.
I want you to ask Samuel to read our banns at the next service. I’ve done all you asked of me, and I think we should stop all this game-playing and marry. As soon as permitted.”

The ground shifted under him. He couldn’t catch his breath. She wanted him—wanted to marry him. She loved him as he loved her. He wasn’t losing her after all. “Johanna...I...” He looked into her eyes, and a chill seeped through his rising joy. “Marry now?” he asked.

“
Ya,
marry now, or stop seeing each other altogether.” Her chin firmed. “If you want me to be your wife, you need to make a decision.”

A part of him wanted to pull her out of the buggy and swing her in his arms.
They could be married!

But a part of him was immediately suspicious. He knew Johanna well and this was not like her—to come here declaring her love. “Why now? Why are you saying this here...today?” he asked, searching her beautiful face. “Have your feelings about me changed from last time we talked about this?”

Her gaze shifted, no longer meeting his, and Roland felt his hopes sink.
Let it g
o.
Take her hand, tell her you’ll have the banns read next Sunday and be thankful for what you have.
But he couldn’t do that.

“Do you love me, Johanna?” He leaned closer to her, looking up into her face. “Truly love me?”

She hesitated and when she spoke again, her voice took on a stubborn tone. “Why does that matter?”

“It matters to
me.
”

She hesitated, then shifted her gaze to his again. “Do you want me to lie to you?” Now he heard anger in her voice. “I loved you once, and you broke my heart. I won’t do that again, Roland. I can’t. I’ll marry you and give you all that’s due a husband, but don’t ask for love, Roland, because I don’t have it to give.”

Chapter Sixteen

R
oland’s face went gray, and for an instant, Johanna wished she could take back the words. She didn’t want to cause him pain—but would it be fair to go into a marriage without being honest? “Roland,” she began in a softer voice. “I don’t—”

“Ne.”
His jawline went rigid. The lines of his face grew taut, and beneath his worn blue shirt, farrier’s muscles knotted and strained against the thin fabric.

He needs someone to sew him a new shirt.
The notion came swiftly and unbidden, even as the
passion in his voice pierced her thoughts.

“
Ne.
It won’t be like that,” he said. “I won’t allow your foolish pride to ruin what we could have together.”

“Pride?” The sharpness of the accusation stung with a black wasp’s venom. “I’ll admit to a stubborn nature,” she replied, looking down at him from her perch on the buggy seat, “but you can’t accuse me of
Hochmut.
” The sin of pride was a major fault in the followers of her faith, and to have Roland think it of her—let alone speak it aloud—was an insult.

“I do accuse you of pride. And of being judgmental.”

“I’m not,” she protested, cheeks burning. “How can you say such a thing?”

“Who was the one who set her mind against Grace? Who refused to give her a chance—who didn’t want to accept her as the sister she is to you now?”

A metallic taste spread across the roof of Johanna’s mouth.
“Ya,”
she admitted grudgingly. “I was uncharitable toward Grace, at first, but it was to protect
Mam.
”

Roland was quiet.

Her stomach clenched and she felt the sting of tears on the inside of her eyelids. Whether the tears were anger or regret, she didn’t know. “I apologized to Grace, and told her I was wrong. I’m just slow to come around sometimes. Even Anna thinks we share
Grossmama
Yoder’s stubborn streak.”

Roland glanced toward the ring where the two men waited and then turned his attention back to her. “I never held your stubborn nature against you,” he said. “I’ve always admired it. What I’m saying is that it’s your pride that’s the problem. And if you can’t see it when it’s staring you in the face, there’s no chance for us.”

Johanna recoiled.
“How is it pride to remember that you betrayed me? Betrayed the promises we’d made to each other?”

A dark flush washed over his chiseled features. “We were young, Johanna. I was young and foolish, and I let Emma Mae Troyer kiss me.” He threw up his hands. “I shouldn’t have let it happen, but honestly—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Johanna grabbed for the reins, but Roland was quicker. He clasped them tightly in one hand and seized her hand with the other. She tried to pull away, but he held on to her.

“You will listen,” he said quietly, but firmly. “If you never speak a word to me again, you will hear me out.” His mouth tightened into a thin line, and his hard gaze penetrated hers.

Johanna felt goose bumps rise on her arms. Never in his life had Roland spoken to her in this tone. And yet, even as she wanted to contest what he was saying, she wasn’t in the least frightened—not as she had been when Wilmer had been in one of his rages.

She began to wish she hadn’t come here...that she hadn’t given in to her impulsiveness. She should have just waited and approached Roland that evening at home. This certainly wasn’t how she meant this to turn out.

“It was a harvest party. At Saul Beachy’s farm.”

“I’ve heard all I want to hear about you and Emma Mae Troyer—enough to last me a lifetime.”

Roland released her hand. “You need to listen to me,” he said. “Please listen.”

She tucked her hand under her apron, trying to shake off the warmth of his touch, trying to deny that some small part of her had wanted him to go on holding her. She stared straight ahead. “I’m listening.”

“Some of the older fellows, my cousin Al and some of his buddies, had bought beer,” Roland said. “Two of the English girls were drinking, too. I didn’t see any Amish girls drink alcohol, but you know how the young people are up there. Most of the Lancaster communities allow
Rumspringa.
Some kids behave badly before they settle down and join the church.”

“And you?” she flung at him. “You didn’t see that it was wrong?”

“I didn’t drink any of the beer.”

“But you didn’t leave, either, did you? You knew we were going to get married, but you didn’t care if you shamed me by taking part in such a gathering?”

“It was just a barn frolic. We were bringing in shocks and husking corn. Al brought a radio and everyone was listening to the music.” He swallowed, and she saw uncertainty cloud his eyes. “It was exciting,” Roland admitted. “We were just joking around, having fun. Some people were dancing. I knew it wasn’t something my father would approve of, but I didn’t know how to get out of it and not feel embarrassed. I’d come with Al, and I knew that if I hitched a ride home to my uncle’s, he’d want to know where Al was.”

“So you knew it was wrong, but you went along with it anyway,” she said.

Roland nodded. “I can’t blame Al or anyone else. The fault was mine.”

She felt her cheeks grow warm. “So you thought you might as well join in the fun and kiss Emma Mae?”

“Ne.”
Roland shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. We were playing a game—shucking corn to see who was fastest. Emma Mae got the red ear of corn, and the other kids started shouting, ‘Forfeit! Forfeit!’”

Johanna gritted her teeth.

“Al yelled for Emma Mae to kiss a guy for her forfeit, and everybody started clapping and stamping their feet. She picked me, and—”

“You didn’t say no.”

Roland shook his head. “I didn’t say no.”

Johanna turned her head away, but she couldn’t keep the familiar ache from rising in her chest. It still hurt, after all this time.

“Emma Mae...wasn’t a pretty girl. She was plain, really plain, with big teeth, and all I could think was that if I turned her down, everybody would laugh at her.”

“You didn’t care that it would hurt me.”

He exhaled softly. “None of us thought the Pennsylvania State Police would bust into the barn with searchlights, bullhorns and half the church elders in Lancaster. Everyone went crazy. Kids were running in all directions, trying to get out of there. One of the guys threw his beer, and it splashed all over me. That’s why the police thought I’d been drinking. Because I smelled like beer.”

Johanna’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

“We were taken into the police station for alcohol breathalyzer tests.”

“And you were unlucky enough to have some newspaper reporter take your picture as you were being loaded into the police van? The picture we all saw in the Englisher newspaper.”

“
Ya,
I was,” he said.

She considered his explanation. Roland had never lied to her. If he said that he hadn’t intended to kiss Emma Mae, she had to take him at his word. But... She inhaled deeply, feeling almost dizzy. Was that really all that had happened? Had she really changed the outcome of her whole life...of
their
lives, for something so small?

“I passed the test, Johanna,” Roland said. “The machine didn’t register any alcohol on my breath. I
looked
guilty, but it proved that I was innocent, and they didn’t press charges against me. I was never arrested for underage drinking.”

Johanna remembered, with a sick feeling, that the opinions in the Amish community had been harsh after the incident. Sermons had been preached against evil and worldly behavior. The bishop had named Roland Byler as one of those who had shamed the faith, his parents and community. Even
Dat,
who rarely lost his temper, had been furious with what Roland had done.

“Johanna?”

“I don’t know what to say, Roland.”

“I’m not the stupid boy I was then. That one mistake cost me everything. You know that I repented and joined the church. Since then, I’ve tried to live our faith as best I can.”

“So this is all my fault?”

“Doesn’t the Bible teach us to forgive? If I wronged you—and I did—haven’t I made up for it? It’s time for you to forgive me. Truly forgive me. It’s the only way we can go on from here.”

She pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Why didn’t you come to me after it happened, Roland? I loved you then. It would have been so much easier if you—”

“But I
did
come,” he insisted. “Don’t you remember? As soon as I got home from Lancaster. I went to your house to explain, but Jonas turned me away.”

“Dat?”
She stared down at him in disbelief. “
Dat
kept you from speaking to me?”

“
Ya
. He said I was not the kind of man he wanted as a husband to you and a father to your children. He told me not to set foot on his land again.”

She shook her head slowly. “He wouldn’t have done that.”

“I asked him if you felt the same way, and he said you did. He said I had nothing to say that you wanted to hear—that we were finished.”

“I didn’t know,” she murmured, looking down, then back at him. “And you believed him? That I wouldn’t want to talk face-to-face? Does that sound like me?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Again, I was young. And embarrassed and feeling so guilty. I thought of Jonas as more than a friend, almost as a second father. Why wouldn’t I have believed him?”

“So you went away.”

“
Ya.
I left Delaware the following day, spent the summer harvesting grain in Kansas and Nebraska. And when I finally came home, Mary told me that you were promised to Wilmer Detweiler, and that you seemed happy. I didn’t want to hurt you again...I thought it was too late for us.”

The tears that had threatened were gone, replaced with an emptiness. Could
Dat
really have sent him away and never told her? She didn’t want to believe it, but Roland had never lied to her...and
Dat
wasn’t here to ask.

“You need to give me time to think,” she said as she reached for the reins again. “This is a lot to think about.”

This time, he placed the reins in her hands. “You can go, but you can’t keep running from the truth. It’s not what I did at that frolic that you’ve held against me all these years. It’s that I embarrassed you. It’s your pride that has kept us apart, Johanna. And it’s your pride that keeps you from admitting that you still love me.”

Anger flared in her chest and she lifted the reins. His words were so hurtful. “That’s the way you feel?”

“It is.”

“Then I’ll take that as a refusal of my proposal. You can consider our courtship officially ended,” she said, looking straight ahead. “You were right. It’s too late for us, Roland. If I am so stubborn and full of pride, I’m not the woman you want as a wife.”

* * *

All the way home from the horse farm, Johanna tried to hold herself together. She didn’t dare shed a single tear; she had to pick up Katy from Fannie and Roman’s, and if she allowed herself to weaken, she’d fall apart. Having Fannie and her children or Katy see her cry wasn’t something she wanted to do.

At Fannie’s, Katy had come running, full of chatter about her visit and spilling over with questions about her aunt Ruth’s new baby boys. Fannie and her girls had been just as excited, and Johanna had been forced to pretend a joyfulness she didn’t feel at the moment. Not that she wasn’t thrilled for Ruth and Eli, or that she didn’t welcome the twins wholeheartedly. But the confrontation she’d had with Roland had her shaking inside.

When she and Katy had finally taken their leave of Fannie and driven home, Johanna had hoped to find a quiet corner where she could think. But there seemed to be none. Although Eli had taken Ruth and the boys home to sleep in their own beds,
Mam’s
place was still teeming with family.

Rebecca had offered to keep Anna’s children while she went to make supper for the new parents, and—much to Katy’s delight—the three girls were running in and out of the house in a spirited game of tag, cheered on by Susanna. Irwin, Rudy, Peter and two of Irwin’s cousins were playing ball in the pasture beside the barn. Aunt Jezzy and Nip Hilty were sitting on the front porch, snapping string beans. Johanna’s hope that she could escape to solitude in the garden was dashed by Susanna’s declaration that
Mam
and Miriam were in the garden setting out a row of zucchini plants.

The kitchen was no better. Aunt Martha and
Grossmama
were trying to teach Lydia Beachy a fancy stitch they were using to knit sweaters for Ruth’s babies, and Dorcas was putting together a huge pan of blueberry crisp. As Katy scrambled to catch up with Anna’s Lori Ann, Mae and Naomi, Rebecca came out of the pantry with a bucket and mop. She’d just finished scrubbing the floor and was about to do the same in the downstairs bathroom and front parlor.

Johanna tried to make small talk with her aunt and cousin, agreeing that, yes, Ruth’s twins looked like Yoders, and no, her labor hadn’t been long, all the while edging her way toward the far doorway. Johanna loved her family and she was used to having a lot of people around her. But she didn’t want to look foolish by bursting into tears and she certainly didn’t want to have to explain to Aunt Martha the reason for such outlandish behavior.

Aunt Martha’s pointed questions about whether
Mam
had planted an unusual amount of celery this year, and if Johanna thought there might be any more surprise announcements at the next church meeting, was the final straw. “I have to go!” Johanna said and fled the kitchen.

By the time she reached the bottom of the steps, all Johanna’s self-control was gone and she was sobbing with great noisy gasps. Almost blindly she raced up the steps, down the second-floor hallway and into her bedroom. She slammed the door behind her and flung herself across her neatly made bed.

Tears came in floods. She buried her face in her Star of Bethlehem quilt and wept until she could hardly catch her breath. She was still crying when a persistent rapping at the door broke through her misery.

“Go away,” she said. “Leave me alone.”