Mother Knows Best

Chapter 1

The sounds of wedding bells float into the air and disperse like pollen throughout the village orchards as the carriage jostles down the rutted dirt road, unable to contain its excitement. As the carriage bounces and sways down the uneven path, I wonder if it is at all indicative of marriage: rough and unpredictable, at times even uncomfortable, but masked in love and happiness to convince the participants they are actually dancing, not stumbling, through life.

I lean against the fence surrounding our orchard, cheering and waving my chubby, dimpled hands at the happy couple as they ride by. Though I am only a child, the sight instantly creates a longing in me for something I don't quite understand yet. I only know it is what I want, to find someone who loves me so much they are willing to jostle through life beside me.

"Margaret!"

I turn quickly at the sound of my name, kicking over the basket of apples at my feet. I stoop to gather them back up before I am caught wasting time instead of picking apples. I'm not fast enough.

"Margaret!" my mother repeats brusquely as she marches around a tree, coming toward me. "What do you think you are doing? How many times do I have to tell you to stop playing around and get to work? Do you want to be out here all day?"

I scramble faster to collect my fallen apples and jump to my feet, but I am too late to dodge the open palm coming toward me. My face stings as I slouch backward, the basket of apples again falling and spilling its contents.

"I'm sorry, Mama," I say, hurrying to my feet. "I heard a carriage coming from the chapel and I wanted to see who got married." Although my cheeks are flushed, I don't even consider crying anymore. I haven't felt the urge to shed tears since the incident with the hot coal from the kitchen fire. I learned that day that no amount of tears would make mama feel sorry for me.

I stand and brush the dust off my skirt, then pick up my basket, two of the apples still rolling in the dirt.

"I have told you before! Who gets married is none of your business. Keep your eyes off the road and get up in that tree! I do not want to tell you again!"

"Yes, Mama!" I say as I hurry up the ladder and disappear into the branches.

"The next time you come down, it better be with a full basket!" As she walks away I can hear her muttering, "Good for nothing girl, always daydreaming." Then for my benefit, she yells back, "You will be lucky to ever find someone willing to take you for a bride!"

Her final words hurt more than the welt rising on my cheek, and I feel liquid salt run into the wound. Never marry? But why not? If I never married, what would I do? Surely I couldn't be forced to stay here and pick apples for the rest of my life, could I?

Would I really never find someone to love me?

*****

Wedding bells play in my head as Johnathan carries me through our front door. Our small ceremony – if it can even be called that – took place in my family's orchard instead of the village chapel, and we rode away in his old hay wagon instead of an elegant carriage. Even my "gown" was hardly more than my typical church dress. Everything was simple and not at all as I had dreamt long ago, leaning against the orchard fence.

Except for the most important thing. We were happy.

We are younger than most when they decide to marry, but with Johnathan, I knew I had found it. Someone to jostle beside me on life's rough journey. And when you find that, there is really no reason to wait. Why not start our lifetime of happiness now?

And so Johnathan finished his apprenticeship just a few months ago, and we used what little money we could scrape up to buy cake and wine for our families, and then we stood before God in the orchard and promised to love each other to the end of time as we slipped knotted strands of cord over each other's fingers.