by Tricia Goyer
“Long enough to wish I had a hot cup of coffee and maybe a book to read.” She rubbed her hands together and hoped he’d get the hint about starting the fire and some coffee.
“My grandpa’s favorite thing to read was National Geographic magazines. He read them as religiously as he read the Budget. He borrowed them from the neighbor—seemed to bring a new one home every time he went over to use the phone. Did you know that Montana is one place where they’ve found the most dinosaur fossils—over on the other side of the Rockies where all the big ranches are? Opa always talked about that. I wish he would have had a chance to go there. I’m pretty sure he never left Ohio his whole life, though he was probably one of the most traveled of Amishmen through the pages of a magazine.”
“I didn’t know that about Montana. In fact, I don’t know much about Montana at all. I hadn’t even been planning on coming here until I was on the train.” She folded her hands on her lap and dared to say the next words. “In fact, I was headed someplace completely different. Someplace that might surprise a lot of people, especially my family.” She looked at him then, waiting for him to ask. She’d decided this morning that today was the day to confess about nursing school.
Caleb nodded, but his eyes were fixed on the tops of the trees. She followed his gaze. An eagle glided on the breeze, rising and lowering in a lazy circle.
“Montana is great. Often when I’m turning a bend in the road or coming to the top of a rise, I picture my opa at my side. I try to think what he’d point out first and what he’d say. Like that eagle. He’d probably talk about how he always wished he could go up in an airplane just once.”
Rebecca pressed her lips together, wondering if Caleb was purposefully trying to ignore her. Didn’t he care about her plans? It seemed like he was always interested in talking about everything except the things that mattered most to her heart.
Maybe I’m making more of our friendship than I should. Maybe Caleb doesn’t see me any differently than his buddy Amos.
“Doesn’t seem like much of an Amishman to want to go up in an airplane,” she found herself saying.
He glanced over, his brow furrowed. “Vell, it doesn’t mean he acted on it. Doesn’t mean he didn’t serve his community and church every day of his life. Isn’t that what matters?” The anger in his voice wasn’t hard to miss.
Rebecca shrugged. “It’s just that most Amish people I know don’t even think about those things. They don’t think about flying or leaving their community or going to college. Do you ever think about that?”
“I came to Montana, didn’t I?” He rose and kicked around the logs from the fire pit as if trying to decide if he wanted to light it. “I get excited about climbing the biggest tree or bringing in the biggest buck. That doesn’t mean I’m any less of an Amishman.”
She blew out a breath of frustration. Why did he always have to turn everything back to himself? Was he that thick-headed not to realize that she wanted to share something important with him?
She was about to answer him when she realized his eyes were fixed on something behind her. She turned. Ike and Annie trudged down the road. They walked side by side, but it was clear from Annie’s expression that she was not happy.
From the first time Rebecca had seen Annie, the owner of the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery, it had been clear how much the woman was loved and respected in her community. Even though Annie was Englisch, she was friends with both Amish and Englisch. Annie was the designated cook for the trip, which Rebecca was thankful for. Rebecca knew a lot about baking and could cook a decent meal, but not under these conditions. Not over an open flame. Her stomach growled just thinking of the promised pancakes. She just hoped that whatever had happened between them would not hinder that.
They approached and said a quick good morning, then Annie sat despondently, staring off. She stretched out her legs and pressed down the wrinkles in her jeans as if doing so would also press the worries out of her mind.
Ike hunched down like a cowboy before the campfire, but there was no fire. As if realizing that, he sighed, and then rose and turned.
“I’ll go get some firewood,” he said to no one in particular.
Rebecca looked to Caleb, and he shrugged. She tried to think of something—anything—to say.
Caleb cocked one eyebrow and then rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go wake up Amos and then check on the horses. If my guess is right, I bet Millie is already in the meadow sweet-talking them and preparing them for the day’s journey.”
“Hurry back,” Rebecca called, more for the sake of saying something—not that she needed anything in particular.
Annie stopped pressing on her jeans and instead turned her attention to her long blond ponytail, twisting it around her finger. Finally, Rebecca couldn’t stand the awkward silence any longer.
“Is everything okay?”
Annie turned to her, surprised, as if she’d been so lost in her thoughts that she’d forgotten Rebecca was there.
“Oh, Ike . . . he makes me so angry. He just asked me for a date—not just dinner at the restaurant, but a real date down in Eureka.”
Rebecca wasn’t surprised by the news. She’d seen the way Marianna’s uncle Ike looked at Annie. He watched her even when she didn’t realize it. He listened to her words, really listened.
“I think that’s wonderful . . . although I know it must be strange, to have an Amishman care for you. Have you ever thought about becoming Amish, Annie? I’ve heard it has been done before.”
“Oh yes, but, well . . . it seems silly to talk like this when we haven’t even had a date yet, but Ike has been talking for a while about leaving the Amish. He says he knows he can love God without having to be Amish.”
“Ja. I’ve heard Marianna say the same thing. She wrote to me about that even before she decided to leave the Amish to marry Ben.” Rebecca scowled, thinking about that. She’d been raised her whole life knowing the Amish way was the way God required. She never considered that she could leave and feel justified in doing so. Guilt trailed along with her whenever she wasn’t wearing her Amish clothes and kapp—not that she would ever admit that to anyone.
“The thing is, I know what it will cost him—in his life and with his community.”
“Don’t you think that’s his choice? I mean, if his care for you is greater—”
“It’s not just that. Ike has no idea what it will cost me.”
Rebecca turned, surprised by the woman’s words.
“I can’t see myself being Amish. I’ve known the freedom that comes from a relationship with Christ for too long. That means Ike will leave . . . But, well, if I allow myself to love Ike and we get married, that will mean he would be in the Bann. You’ve been Amish your whole life, Rebecca. You know the rules: no money passing between the hands of those who’ve left the church.”
“That means if Ike left the Amish church—and if you were married—no Amish person would be able to buy from your store.”
Annie nodded. “Yes, and that’s what happened to the previous owners. They were Mennonite, but both had been born Amish and had been baptized into the church. When they bought the store, it had been thriving, but under their ownership the sales plummeted. The bishop even preached against them. You are right—no money can exchange hands with someone under the Bann.”
Rebecca did know. It was a way to urge people to turn back to the right ways—the narrow road. To allow people to live in their sin was unacceptable.
“Robert and I were able to buy the store for a good price because the owner was about to lose it all.”
“Robert?”
Annie’s eyes widened, as if she couldn’t believe she’d said his name. “He was my fiancé. I loved him like I had never loved anyone before.” Annie cleared her throat. “Which is another reason that dating scares me.” She lifted her gaze and focused on Rebecca’s eyes. “I haven’t told Ike this, but I’m afraid of loving again . . . afraid of giving my heart away, just to have it bro
ken.”
Rebecca nodded. What could she say? Part of her was scared of the same thing. Even as she was drawn to Caleb, she worried that caring for him would mean walking away from what she was called to do. She could almost hear her mem’s comments about other young women who got swept away by a guy’s affection. “That girl’s ab im kopp—off in the head—every time he looks at her!”
“You need to tell him the truth,” Rebecca finally said. “Tell him what has you worried so. If it’s true love, it’ll be worth the risk.” Rebecca folded her hands on her lap, wishing she could force herself to do the same thing.
“Yeah, I really should do that.” Annie rose and walked over to the plastic tub filled with pots and pans and pulled out a skillet. “More than that, I should pray about it. I’ve been doing a fine job at making sure Ike didn’t get too close. The harder part is relinquishing how I think things should happen and opening my heart up to what God wants. How does that verse go? ‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the Lord. ‘They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.’ I know God was talking to the children of Israel, but I also know those words apply to us too. If God has a plan for me, shouldn’t I try to seek Him to find it?”
Annie put the pan down on a log and looked in the direction Ike had gone, as if she expected to see God’s plan posted on the trees for her to read.
“I suppose I never really thought of it that way . . . that God has a plan.” Rebecca tried to remember if she’d ever heard that in church. Not really. She often heard what she had to do to make sure she followed the Amish way, but were God’s plans different from that?
She tried to wrap her mind around how God could have a unique plan for each person, yet also a certain way for His followers to live.
“We try to figure everything out, control so much, don’t we?” Annie placed her hands on her hips and turned to Rebecca. “Thank you so much for helping me, Rebecca.” Annie winked. “I think you being here, reminding me to turn to the One who knows everything, was part of His plan too.”
Rebecca smiled, even though she’d done little to help Annie. If anything, Annie’s words had gotten her thinking.
“Sweetie, would you like to mix up the pancake batter?” Annie asked. “I have some filtered water there and the measuring cups and such.”
“Ja, of course.”
“And don’t forget to add in the huckleberries. They are the best part.”
CHAPTER
15
The first day’s ride had been easy. The logging road had been used in recent years, and the ground had been hard and not very rocky. But today the road had narrowed. Stubborn thickets crowded in. They trailed the others, and more than once Caleb questioned if he’d missed a turn and they were still on the right trail.
“Do you think we’ll make it as far as yesterday?” Rebecca asked.
He could hear tension in Rebecca’s voice.
“Is the trail already wearing on you?”
“I’m just trying to make conversation, that’s all.”
The huckleberry pancakes had tasted good, but now they felt like a brick in his stomach. Rebecca had been quiet this morning—too quiet. She had looked at him curiously, as if she waited for him to say something, do something.
Instead they talked about their home states—hers Indiana and his Ohio. Things were more similar than different in their Amish communities, but that was to be expected. They might have minor differences, such as if reflectors were allowed on their buggies or if motors were allowed on lawn mowers, but at the core their beliefs were the same. Always the same.
Caleb heard a roaring sound and guessed that up ahead a stream squeezed between two mountains. Trying to get a view of the cascading water, he noticed Ike approaching on the extra horse. Caleb pulled back on the reins, slowing his team. Ike’s face puckered in concern.
“Is it the roadway?” Caleb asked.
Ike’s horse paused beside them. “The road’s fine, but it’s Annie. She woke up with an awful stomachache. We’re going to pull off for a bit. Mille and Amos said they’d stay with us.”
“Ja, that’s fine. We can go ahead and set up the site.”
“Do you think I should stay with the women?” Chills raced up Rebecca’s arms. It seemed so intimate—too intimate—for her and Caleb to head out alone. Surely they wouldn’t agree to that, would they?
“Vell . . .” Uncle Ike paused for a minute, considering. “We really need an experienced male driver for each wagon. The horses aren’t easy to handle. And I’d love to say that you could ride with one of our wagons, but we’re already loaded down.” He sighed. “But if it’s a problem—”
“No problem,” Rebecca interrupted. “It’s just that, uh, if the women needed someone to talk to . . .” What else could she say—that back east it would be considered improper for them to head out alone? Just looking around it was obvious they weren’t back east.
“Are we all right in heading out alone, then?” Caleb asked.
“Yes, of course!” Her voice sounded too perky, even to her. She offered Ike a wave as he headed back up the trail, and then their own wagon started up again to the clopping of the horses’ hooves on the rocky road. Caleb whistled a low tune.
Rebecca was silent, looking ahead to the high, straight-rising mountains. She didn’t say anything.
“Do you know something I don’t?”
Rebecca sighed. “Annie’s sick, all right. She’s lovesick.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t see it? The way she looks at Ike? But she’s afraid of what he’ll lose—what she’ll lose—if they confess their care for each other.”
“Isn’t that what love is about—having to surrender more than you thought you ever would?”
She glanced over at him and wrinkled up her nose. “Aren’t you romantic?”
“Hey, hey, don’t judge me before I finish. I was going to say that even though there are things you have to give up, it’s worth it from what you gain.” Caleb cleared his throat. “Not that I know from experience. But that’s the way it seems to me. At least my sisters sure seem happier.”
They passed Ike’s wagon and Millie and Amos next. Amos seemed none too happy to be riding along listening to the stories of a senior citizen rather than of a beautiful young woman like Rebecca. At least with Millie one didn’t have to worry about saying the right thing, doing the right thing. One didn’t have to worry about gauging each conversation.
A little ways past the other two wagons, they came upon the waterfall. It was just off to the side of the road. Caleb stopped the team and jumped down from the wagon. He turned to her.
“Want to see me jump from the top?” He pointed from the top of the waterfall to the little pool at the bottom. “I wonder if I can do a flip in the air on the way down.”
Rebecca gasped. “Caleb, don’t you dare!” She stood and looked down at him, her face a mix of fear and anger. “That pool’s not deep enough for certain . . .”
He took a step toward the water while at the same time keeping his eyes fixed on hers. Her mouth opened, and her cheeks turned bright pink. And what was that in her eyes? Tears?
“Hey, hey, now. I was just joking. Someone would have to be crazy to do that.”
She pressed her fists into her hips, knuckles white. “Ja, and don’t you think that describes you perfectly?”
He reached a hand toward her, and she reluctantly took it. Her hand was shaking. She stepped down from the wagon and tried to pull away, but he clung tightly to her fingers.
“Listen, I really am sorry. I was just joking. I didn’t realize you’d take it seriously.”
“Joke about other things than breaking your neck, will you? It’s all fun and games for you, Caleb, but if you do get hurt, think about everyone else. What would we do? How would we get help for you?”
He wanted to apologize again, but it wouldn’t do any good. Instead he blew out a breath, released her hand, and moved to the
waterfall. He found a large rock, big enough for two, and then sat. He thought about kicking off his boots and dipping his toes into the water, but his playful mood of a few minutes before was gone.
A minute later Rebecca joined him, sitting next to him on the rock. She picked up a handful of small pinecones and tossed them in, one at a time. As each one plopped into the water, it sank briefly and then rose to the top and was carried away.
Rebecca cleared her throat but still refused to turn to him. To look into his eyes. “Listen, I’m sorry I reacted that way. I think my fears are coming out.”
“Fears?”
“Ja. I mean . . . aren’t you afraid at all? Aren’t you ever afraid? Here we are in the middle of nowhere. We don’t have cell service, and there are wild animals, acts of nature . . . Anything could happen. We already have one sick person . . .”
“I thought you said that Annie was just lovesick.”
“Well, it could be that, but what if it’s something else?”
“Then I suppose we’ll just have to trust God. It’s not like we’re out here all alone. I mean, don’t we believe that He’s always with us? Always watching out for us?”
“Ja, that’s what we’re supposed to believe, but it’s easier just focusing on things we can control. Like our kapps. Like our gardens. At least it’s easier for me to make plans and stick to them rather than letting myself lose my grip and just trust that everything will turn out in the end.”
Rebecca picked up another handful of pinecones and started tossing again. “Millie said that when she looks at a pinecone she sees all the potential. She said there is the potential of a forest in each one. But for me . . . Well, I wish I could be like that. Instead I just consider how frail they are. And how easily they get carried away.”