“Raymond always admired Jude’s ability to coax higher prices from the crowds at livestock auctions, and to sell a lot of animals in a short time,” Mama put in with a nod.
Jude chuckled. “He thought I was a fast talker, eh?” he teased, winking at Leah.
Bishop Vernon laughed. “You’re the finest auctioneer in these parts, Jude. I have no idea how you can chant so fast—and for as many hours as a sale requires—but I suspect some folks in my congregation wish I could speak that quickly, to shorten my sermons.”
As the folks around them laughed at Bishop Vernon’s joke, Leah’s heart lightened. She gazed at Jude, and it finally hit her that the hopes and dreams of most of her lifetime had come true on this much-anticipated day.
“This is the day which the Lord hath made. We will rejoice and be glad in it!”
Leah smiled. Bishop Vernon often began his preaching by exclaiming that verse from Psalm 118, and it inspired her to rise above the doubts that had been niggling at her like naughty little girls gossiping during church. She had married Jude because she believed in him, after all. Leah had utmost faith in his ability to provide for her and to weave the separate members of his household into a tightly bound family as warm and secure as one of Mama’s beautiful quilts, or one of the rag rugs Margaret had made for the Shetler home.
She saw her mother-in-law step away from the friends who’d clustered around her at the end of the wedding. Margaret Shetler stood taller than most women, and because her face rarely showed emotion, she was a hard person to read—a bit intimidating and stern, no matter what the occasion, it seemed to Leah. But Leah smiled at her as she approached, wiggling her fingers at Stevie, who was clutching his mammi’s hand as he shuffled along beside her, sucking his thumb. The little boy appeared so overwhelmed by the crowd and the day’s activities, Leah couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.
“Stevie, you were so well behaved during the long service and the wedding this morning,” Leah said as she leaned down to smooth his glossy brown hair. “I’m proud of you.”
Stevie flinched and immediately pressed his face into his dat’s trousers.
Jude lifted him to one shoulder, hugging him. “You were as quiet as a mouse,” he agreed, smiling at his son. “Your new mamm loves you, Stevie. There’s no need to be afraid of her.”
When the boy buried his face in Jude’s black vest and white shirt collar, Margaret’s eyebrow arched. “We have a ways to go before he can believe that,” she stated. She gazed intently at Leah, as though seeing all the way into her heart and finding it lacking. “After I take the twins and Stevie to spend a few days at Jeremiah’s while you newlyweds settle in, they’ll return home, but I’ve decided to take up residence in Jeremiah’s dawdi haus again. I don’t want to be the intruding mother-in-law, you see.”
Leah forgot how to breathe. Panic immobilized her as she recalled her assumptions that Margaret would handle the cooking and the housekeeping and—
“You’re welcome to stay with us, Mamm,” Jude insisted above the rush of Leah’s desperate thoughts. “You’ve been a lifeline in our time of need, and I couldn’t have kept body and soul together after Frieda’s death, had you not stepped in.”
“Let me know if I can be of assistance, but I’ll go back to living with your lonely brother,” Margaret replied without missing a beat. Her smile had a sarcastic edge to it. “Too many cooks spoil the broth.”
“And every blended family deserves a chance to find its new routines,” Mama put in quickly as she tucked her arm around Leah’s waist. “I’m only a few miles away, so I can lend a hand, too. But I believe that Jude, Leah, and the girls will find their way together—and they’ll help Stevie get past the loss of his mother as well.”
Leah silently blessed her mother for supporting her, but Margaret’s sarcastic tone had stung anyway. Too many cooks . . . could she have said anything more cruel?
“With help from God and our families, we’ll make our way forward.” Jude set his son on the floor again and reached for Leah’s hand. “Right now, I’d like to greet the folks who’ve come a distance to spend our special day with us. Most of the older men are heading to the barn, to stay out of the way of the women and the table setters.”
“I need to help the ladies who’ve agreed to set up for the meal,” Mama said with a purposeful look toward Margaret. “And I want to peek into the wedding wagon to see how the food’s coming along. Jude, you’ll never know how much I appreciate your renting that wagon so we don’t have to borrow every plate and cup and spoon for miles around—most of the cooking is being done there, too!”
“Happy to help,” Jude replied. “Jeremiah rented a wedding wagon as his gift to us when Frieda and I married, and it was a godsend. Right, Mamm?”
“It seemed too progressive—felt like the lazy way out—to a traditional Amish mamm,” Margaret replied with a tight smile. “But it really did save us and our neighbors a lot of time and effort.”
Leah reveled in the feel of Jude’s large hand enfolding hers as he led her through the kitchen toward the mudroom door to fetch their coats. The younger men were carrying the pew benches out to the bench wagon to make room for the wedding meal’s tables and chairs, and the older fellows were migrating toward the barn, where lawn chairs and card tables were set up on the freshly swept floor. As Leah slipped into her winter coat, she joined Jude in thanking their helpers, nodding as he introduced her to a few aunts who’d come from eastern Missouri. When they finally stepped
