by Tricia Goyer
“Hey, Trapper.” Rebecca bent down and scratched behind his ear. “Nice to meet you.” Then she rose and followed Marianna toward the house. Six natural wood rockers were lined up on the front porch, and Rebecca guessed that they were often filled with family or friends, talking and enjoying the view of the large meadow in front of the house and the mountain range beyond.
Inside the tall door, a gleaming dark wood floor greeted them. There was a small foyer that opened up into a large kitchen and living area. Rebecca took in a breath. Something smelled wonderful. She smiled, remembering how much Marianna enjoyed baking and cooking—and how much she’d enjoyed it, too, when she’d been with Marianna.
“This would sure be a nice place to have church.” The words were out of Rebecca’s mouth before she remembered that Marianna was no longer Amish and would no longer have service at her home.
“Well, we do have prayer meetings here. If you’d like to—” She paused and then smiled. “Actually, we can talk about that later. Let’s get some lunch first, shall we? Then, after we eat, I can show you to your room.”
Marianna sliced pieces of homemade bread and buttered them. Then she moved to an electric cooking pot, took off the lid, and ladled soup into two bowls. “I know I shouldn’t say this, but I’ve fallen in love with my Crock-Pot. I just plug it in and—”
The ringing of Marianna’s cell phone interrupted her words, and from the smile on her face when she answered, Rebecca knew it was Ben.
“Ja, we made it just fine.” Marianna glanced in Rebecca’s direction. “She looks great.” Laughter spilled out of her. “I’m not sure how long she’s staying, but I’ll tell her what you said.” She pulled the phone from her ear. “Ben said you can stay as long as you’d like. We have plenty of room.”
“Danki.” Rebecca smiled and pulled out a bar stool from the counter and sat.
They chatted for a few minutes, and then Marianna hung up.
“After we eat, would you like to drive back down to the lake with me? Ben’s down there swimming with a group of bachelors. They’ve been playing hard and some of them didn’t get lunch.”
“Bachelors?”
Marianna placed the soup in front of Rebecca before turning to a large pantry, opening it, and pulling out a few bags of chips. She then moved to a large cookie jar and began emptying oatmeal cookies into a ziplock bag.
“Sit down, eat. I’ll help you with that when you’re done.” Rebecca fiddled with her spoon. Had Marianna forgotten everything about being Amish?
“Ach, ja, I’m sorry.” Marianna placed the bag of cookies on the counter and then took her bowl of soup, sitting down beside Rebecca. “We need to pray, don’t we?”
Rebecca had lowered her head to pray silently when she felt Marianna’s soft, cool hand wrap around hers.
“Dear heavenly Father, first I want to thank you for my friend,” Marianna said. “Lord, I thank you that she’s been in my life from my first memories. And it means so much that she’s come here to be with me—to spend time with me. You know, Lord, how much my heart has ached, thinking of the many friendships I’ve lost. I don’t mind that I’ve had to face some hardship, because the relationship with You is more beautiful than what I could have imagined. Still, danki for my sweet friend’s smile. It really lightens my heart. And bless this food. Ach, yes, and please keep the guys safe at the lake. I know how bold they can get when they are with each other. I pray You will keep them levelheaded and safe. Aemen.”
Marianna’s hand released hers. Rebecca blinked, trying to keep the tears at bay as she swallowed down the emotion that built in her throat. Her chest felt warm, and she didn’t know why. It was as if Marianna had poured that warm soup right down into her soul.
Rebecca cleared her throat. “Danki. I’m glad to be here too.” She’d never heard anyone pray like that before. She had heard customers praying out loud at the cafe, but she’d never heard anyone pray as if God was right there in the room with them, sitting on the next bar stool. “I bet it has been hard, guessing what everyone back home is saying.”
Marianna shrugged. “It’s fine. I know why they say what they say. If the roles were reversed and I was still Amish, I would be saying the same thing—acting the same way.”
Rebecca ate her soup, waiting for Marianna to go into more detail. Heaven knows back at home she’d have an earful by now. She’d know who’d said what or who’d treated Marianna with less than a kind attitude. There was very little news that happened in the Amish community back home that didn’t bounce from house to house like a ping-pong ball. But Marianna remained silent.
“Would you like more soup? More bread?” she offered.
“Another piece of bread would be great. You are a wonderful baker, Marianna. Ben must be thankful.”
“Ja.” A chuckle slipped from her lips. She rose and sliced another piece of bread for Rebecca and then hurriedly moved around the kitchen gathering up more snacks for the bachelors. “Ben is very happy with my cooking—especially after being single for so many years—but you should have seen Roy’s face when he discovered Ben had packed on a few pounds. Roy is Ben’s manager. He’s the one who sets up the concerts and such. I wish there was one close that we could go to, but Ben took the month off to enjoy the West Kootenai. In Montana, winter lasts for nine months, and there’s just a little slice of summer. You’ve come at the perfect time.”
Rebecca rose and took her bowl to the kitchen sink. Her eyes widened when she saw that Marianna also had a dishwasher, but she decided to say nothing about it. Why wouldn’t she have a dishwasher, not being Amish anymore?
Rebecca was surprised by how uncomfortable she felt, seeing her friend in an Englisch home, hearing her pray out loud . . . And now Rebecca had invaded their vacation time. If it was possible for her to disappear, or slip back outside and find a driver to take her back to the train station, she would. Yet where could she find a driver? She wasn’t even sure where the closest neighbor was. And worse than that, what type of wild animal would she meet on the way?
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have intruded. This is your time together. I could head out tomorrow. I—”
“Nonsense!” The word emerged from Marianna’s mouth with force, and she hurried to her friend. She paused before Rebecca, looking into her eyes. “Ben and I have felt led to pray for you. I’m not sure why, but you’ve been coming to mind a lot lately. When you called, I was so glad to hear from you. I also knew that God had a plan.” Marianna offered a soft smile. “This life isn’t about just having fun and enjoying ourselves. What good is a beautiful home and cupboards of food if you don’t have anyone—have friends—to share it with?” Marianna wrinkled up her nose. “Speaking of which, we better get going. If we don’t hurry, those guys might get the idea of catching fish with their bare hands and eating them raw!”
Rebecca laughed and followed her friend to the truck. She didn’t understand why Marianna had been thinking of her. She didn’t know why she had “just happened” to get Marianna’s note right as she left and ended up here, but she was thankful, she supposed. For the past few years—and especially the past few months—she’d felt like God was mad at her. She was hiding so much from her family. She’d been pushing them away. For three years she’d made her plans to leave their community and church, so it was better not to think about God than consider His disapproval. But was it possible that God still thought of her, and that He’d placed her in Marianna’s thoughts so she could pray?
Goose bumps rose on Rebecca’s arms, and she felt lighter as she climbed into the truck. Lighter than she had for many years. Her chest felt tight and achy, but it wasn’t a painful ache. It was a longing for what Marianna had—not the house or the driver’s license or even the dishwasher—but the peace, the joy. Rebecca’s brow furrowed as she realized that maybe God had a plan in her being here.
Marianna started the truck, but before she put it in gear, she turned in Rebecca’s direction.
“You okay?”
Reb
ecca blew out a breath. “Ja. Really I am. Tired, that’s all.” She rubbed her brow.
“Would you like to stay at the house? To rest?”
“And miss seeing more of Montana? Not to mention those bachelors . . .” Rebecca winked. “Not on your life.”
“Vell, I’m sure you can’t see them swimming. It’s really not allowed. The men swim with the men, and the women with the women. But I’ll have Ben tell them that you’re in town. A few of them are quite handsome. Maybe we should have one or two over for dinner while you’re here—”
Rebecca swatted her friend’s arm. “Don’t you dare. And you know that I wouldn’t want to meet them anyway. It was just a joke.” She glanced down at her skirt. “Especially not dressed like this.”
“Rethinking taking off your Amish clothes, are you?”
Rebecca shrugged. “Vell, I haven’t really left the Amish, you know. I mean, I left the community . . . but I don’t really know where the future is headed.”
Marianna turned off the ignition. She turned more fully to face Rebecca.
Rebecca shuffled in her seat, feeling intimidated by her friend’s gaze. “Did I say something?”
“No, what you haven’t said is the problem. You told me that you were coming—that you were on your way. You haven’t told me why you left.”
Heat radiated through the cab of the truck. Even though the sun was coming through the windshield, even more heat—nervousness—came from within. Rebecca pushed the button to roll down the truck’s window. She glanced out at the woods beside Marianna’s house, speckled with sunlight and shadow, and then she turned back to Marianna. She swallowed hard. “Aren’t the guys hungry? Shouldn’t we get going?”
Marianna cocked an eyebrow. “Is the story that long?”
“I suppose not.” Rebecca took a deep breath and released it slowly. “The truth is that Montana was just an unexpected stop. I’m on my way to Oregon, where I’m attending nursing school.”
“Nursing school? Oregon?” Marianna’s brow furrowed. She shook her head as if she hadn’t heard Rebecca right. “Nursing school,” she mouthed again. Understanding—sympathy—flooded her face.
Rebecca nodded. There was no need to explain. There was no need to mention Claudia’s name. How many times had Marianna sat beside her, with an arm around her shoulders, sharing the heartache? Too many times to count.
“I was always afraid to talk to you about . . . about Claudia’s death.”
“Yeah, most people were,” Rebecca said.
“Even as you sat there and cried, vell, I didn’t know what to say.”
“At least you sat with me. It was so strange how people handled things. For weeks after the funeral, people from the community came by. Just to be with us, I suppose. They drove their buggies down the road, entered our house, put jars of canned goods in our cupboards, held baby Claude, and didn’t say a word about his mother—about Claudia.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . .”
“Honestly, Marianna, I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty. It was nice seeing that people cared, but it felt fake too. Part of it brought relief because I didn’t want them to ask too many questions. I didn’t want to try to explain how it happened—especially how I stood there and didn’t do a thing to help her. Maybe they were waiting, just waiting for me to tell them . . . but I never did.”
Tears rimmed Marianna’s eyelids. Trapper barked outside the driver’s door, as if knowing something was wrong inside the cab. Marianna’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, but she ignored him. “But . . . how could you have done any different? You didn’t know what to do.”
“Exactly. Which is why I left Indiana. It’s why I’m going to nursing school. I don’t want to ever be in that position again. Next time I want to help. I want to be able to save a life, instead of watching it slip away.”
Marianna pushed the button to roll down the window and ordered Trapper back to the porch. The dog reluctantly obeyed. Then she reached up and started the truck again, put it in gear, and pulled out onto the dirt road. Birdsong sounded from outside, filtering into the cab of the truck as they drove away.
Marianna glanced over at her, her eyes dark with concern. “And what do your parents think about your decision?”
“They don’t know.” Rebecca shrugged. “Well, they might now. I left them a letter in my trunk. I didn’t have the heart to face them. To see their disappointment.”
“And do they know you’re with me?”
“Ne. I didn’t tell them anything. They’d be horrified to know that I was in West Kootenai, Montana, in an Amish community, with my ex-Amish friend, driving around in a truck with Englisch clothes.” Rebecca gasped and put a hand over her mouth, trying to make light of it.
“Leaving isn’t easy.” Marianna swallowed hard. “In fact, the long journey here will probably be the easiest part for you. Leaving is harder than I ever thought . . .”
Rebecca wanted to ask more, but not now. Confessing the truth to her friend was hard enough. Instead Rebecca turned her head, looking out of the truck, and smoothed her hand over her patterned skirt that was just below her knees. It was conservative by the world’s standards, but the clothes felt as fancy and revealing as if she’d been wearing cutoff jeans. After all, her calves showed when she walked, and the pattern drew attention to itself—something that Amish dresses never did.
“Just know this.” Marianna’s voice vibrated as the truck jostled and bounced. “Just know that I’ll love you for you—for your heart—and not for your kapp.”
There was a sadness as Marianna said those words, as if she wished that others—those she’d cared about—had said the same thing to her.
Rebecca wished she had kind words to say to her friend, but maybe just being here was enough. She hoped so. Because as empty and hollow as her soul felt, she had little else to give beyond her presence.
Even though Rebecca couldn’t see the bachelors, she could hear them as Marianna parked the truck by the lake.
“See those cliffs over there? There is a nice place to swim right under it. Some guys like to climb up and jump off.”
Rebecca gasped. The tallest part of the cliff had to be at least fifty feet tall. “Off of that?”
“Ach, no. Not all the way up there.” Marianna shook her head. “There are smaller cliffs down below. I’ve never seen—or heard of—anyone jumping off the top.” Marianna pulled out her cell phone and called Ben. “Hey, I’m glad you’re still in cell phone range. We’re here if you want to come get this food.” There was a sweetness in her voice as she said those words.
A few minutes later, Ben made his way to the truck. His hair was damp and hanging in his face, nearly covering his blue eyes. His swimming trunks dripped and his T-shirt clung to him. Rebecca couldn’t help but smile. Ben had indeed added a few pounds since the last time she’d seen him back in Shipshewana.
From behind him the voices of the others grew louder as if they were cheering someone on. Rebecca wished she could head to that cliff, just to peek down, but even though Marianna was Englisch now, Rebecca knew she’d never allow it.
Rebecca tried to remember if she’d ever known of such a large group of Amishmen from back home who’d taken a day off to swim. She couldn’t imagine it happening, even though it was Saturday. If she hadn’t been here with Marianna now, she wouldn’t have believed it. Back home a gut Amishman spent his time working. Occasionally a man took time to fish or to go shooting, but that was frowned upon and brought much embarrassment to his fraa if he did it too much.
Ben hurried forward. His feet were shoved into tennis shoes that were untied. The white strings trailed along the dusty ground.
He grinned and extended his hand. “Rebecca, so good to see you!”
She was about to respond when something behind Ben caught her attention. It was a man—an Amish bachelor, she supposed. He’d climbed to the top of the cliff and was waving to the others down below. His blond hair swooped across his forehe
ad, and he wore only his Amish pants, rolled up to his knees.
Rebecca’s heartbeat quickened to see him. He was handsome, and she guessed he was going to follow Ben—and here she was in Englisch clothes.
Rebecca shook Ben’s hand and then crossed her arms over her chest, wishing she’d brought more Amish clothes since the Amish dress she’d worn onto the train was crumpled and tucked into a corner of her suitcase. She wished she was wearing a neat, pressed Amish dress now. She didn’t like the idea of Amish bachelors seeing her dressed in Englisch clothes. When she’d left Shipshewana, she’d expected to be leaving all the bachelors behind. Obviously that was not the case. Not that she needed the distraction, but an inner part of her still hoped she could be a wife and mother someday—after she got her degree, of course.
Instead the man barely glanced over his shoulder at them and then moved to the cliff’s edge.
She gasped. “He’s not going to jump, is he?” Her hand covered her mouth.
Ben turned. “No . . . I don’t think so. Caleb’s a daredevil, but—”
The words were barely out of Ben’s mouth when the handsome bachelor moved toward the cliff and jumped straight out. All three gasped, and Ben rushed to the cliff. If Rebecca hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed it.
Yet even before Ben got to the edge, the cheers and laughter coming from the lake calmed the pounding of her heart.
Rebecca looked at Marianna. The color had drained from her cheeks.
“Do things like that always happen around here?” Rebecca placed a hand over her heart. “If so, I’m not sure I can take it.”
“I wish I could say this was a onetime thing. I’ve never seen that”—Marianna pointed to the cliff—“happen before. But with Caleb, there is always something going on.”
“Is there at least a clinic nearby for emergencies? Or a doctor? Not that a doctor would be able to help much if he was injured jumping off of that cliff.” Worries crowded Rebecca’s mind, making the world dim around her. What if something had happened to that bachelor? Was showing off worth risking his life? Making his friends carry the memories if something went wrong?