The Kissing Bridge

by Tricia Goyer

  “Caleb, no.” The words shot from her mouth. “I never meant for it to be like that.”

  He jerked his head and narrowed his gaze. “Oh, so you just put on the kapp and dress for fun? This is all one big joke, right, Rebecca?”

  “Don’t you understand? I don’t want to leave the Amish. If I could become a nurse and get baptized into the church, I’d do it without question. I’d do it Sunday if they let me. It’s not about that. More than anything, I don’t want to ever face that feeling of helplessness again. Claudia died and I could do nothing about it. I felt so small, so weak. Ever since I’ve had the chance, I’ve done something about it.”

  “We Amish are gut at working,” Caleb interrupted. “And it seems some of us are good at deception too.”

  “Caleb.” Her words released in a breath. “I thought you of all people would understand. You just lost your opa . . .” Tears filled her eyes.

  “Don’t bring my opa into this.” Caleb’s words sounded like a hiss, even to his ears. “And don’t think that you—one person—can make that big of a difference. We are not that important, Rebecca. We are not pinecones with potential forests inside us. And if we were truly Amish, we would accept death, accept sickness as it comes, instead of trying to fight it. You’re not God,” he spat. “And obviously wearing a kapp doesn’t bring you any closer to being Him.”

  Rebecca didn’t know why she’d hoped for anything different than the words Caleb had just told her. Similar words would come from her parents. She’d already dishonored them by hiding what she’d been doing. They’d had no idea she’d been taking college classes behind their backs. When they discovered it, they’d probably be happy she’d left. Happy they’d escaped the shame.

  She’d also seen the distance her decision had put between her and Marianna. They had been the best of friends, and yet Marianna had almost seemed relieved when Rebecca chose to go on the wagon trip. Marianna was no longer Amish, but that hadn’t changed her attitude, her heart. Perhaps there were some things nobler than a career to leave their Amish community for—love being at the top of the list. Or at least Marianna thought so.

  But now she’d never know what that was like. She’d never have a chance to explore that possibility with Caleb.

  The tears came, although she wished they wouldn’t. She had no reason to cry. What Caleb had said was true. She wanted to tell him that she’d tried to confess the truth to him a few times, but it would do no good. They’d had hours sitting side by side. She’d had plenty of chances.

  Rebecca turned her head and watched the scenery roll by, wishing she was anyplace but here. She wished she hadn’t come. And the worst part was . . . the worst was not over. When her parents finally figured out where she was, she’d hear it all again. Rebecca nibbled on her lower lip. Should she just disappear for good? Become a nurse and not return to the Amish community? Take the money her oma had given her and start a new life somewhere else? She’d never be appreciated.

  They rode in silence for the next few hours. They sat only a foot apart on the wagon bench, but it could have been miles for the coldness that passed between them. Rebecca had opened her heart—at least for a little while—and now she felt the wall going up again, brick by brick by brick.

  Ike was all smiles when they arrived at the campsite for lunch. Caleb jumped down from the wagon and unhitched the horses so he could take them to the nearest watering hole.

  “What has you so happy?” Caleb muttered under his breath as he strode by.

  Ike removed his hat and brushed his hair back from his face. “Why, I’d have to say that I just spent two hours riding beside the most beautiful woman in Montana.” Ike narrowed his gaze. “What got you so upset?”

  “Me? The same.” Caleb stomped off, angry at himself for not seeing Rebecca’s deception. Angry at Millie, Ben, and Marianna, and everyone else for not saying something to him. For letting him look like a fool. He took his horses to a small creek and let them drink until they had their fill of water. He said nothing to Millie as she did the same.

  “So, I guess you found out about nursing school?” Millie commented.

  Caleb didn’t think she deserved an answer to that. Instead he needed to find a way to get his anger out. Back at the lunch spot, he strode up to Amos. He pointed to a large, long log that had been cut in recent months and was lying on the side of the road, most likely to keep the road clear for logging trucks. “I bet I can throw that farther than you.”

  Amos tilted his hat back on his head. “I think that’s a challenge.”

  Ike strode up. “Isn’t anyone going to invite the old man to your competition?”

  Caleb slapped him on the shoulder. “If you think your back can handle it.”

  Annie sidled up to Rebecca, handing her a ham sandwich. “I think someone’s showing off.”

  “Not for me, he isn’t.” Rebecca wrapped the string from her kapp around her finger. “I don’t believe Caleb cares what I think.” She held the sandwich but had no desire to eat it. Her stomach felt tight. Her throat ached from swallowing down her emotion. Maybe she was coming down with something. Still, she took a bite under Annie’s watchful eye.

  “I think he cares too much.” Annie sighed. “Guys just show it differently.”

  Rebecca watched as Ike put on work gloves. Then he rolled the log to the center of the dirt road and lifted it so it stood on end, holding it there. “Shows it like that?”

  Ike then walked around it, still holding it, sizing it up. The log was taller than him.

  Caleb and Amos walked down the dirt road. Annie, Rebecca and Millie stayed to the back of Ike, by the horses.

  Chills traveled up Rebecca’s arms. In her opinion, frustrated males, big logs, and throwing weren’t going to amount to anything good. “They’re not going to hurt themselves, are they?”

  Annie pressed a finger to her lips. “Probably, but who can stop them?”

  As Rebecca watched, there seemed to be some unspoken rules to their contest. The others watched approvingly as Ike squatted down, put his hands under the log and lifted it, leaned it against his shoulder, and took a few steps. The log swayed, and Ike scrambled to catch his footing.

  Just as Rebecca was sure he was going to lose hold of it and have it crash down upon him, Ike grunted loudly and gave a big heave, tossing it forward. The log flew up, flipped, and its top end hit the ground. For a second Rebecca thought the log was going to flip forward toward Caleb and Amos. Instead it fell back toward Ike.

  “Ohh . . .” A moan escaped from everyone’s lips, and then it was Amos’ turn. He went through the same ritual, and like Ike’s toss, Amos’ hit on end but then fell backward toward him.

  Ike strode to them, his shoulders back and chest puffed forward. Annie offered him a bottle of water, and he took it, drinking half of it in one gulp.

  “They call it the caber toss,” Ike commented, approaching Rebecca.

  “So it really is a sport?” Rebecca asked. “You’re not just making it up?”

  “No, miss.” Ike wiped sweat from his brow. “We’re not just making it up.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful.”

  Ike took another step toward her. “Ach, you didn’t. But this is a real thing. It’s part of the Highland Games, and it’s a way for a man to win his honor . . . or to use his muscles to ease an aching heart.”

  She touched her fingers to her lips, understanding what Ike was saying. Caleb had a few wounds that needed to be healed. Ones she had caused.

  She watched as Caleb bent down and lifted the log. If she hadn’t been looking so intently at his face, she would have missed the way he looked at her out of the corner of his eye for the briefest second. And then, sucking in a deep breath, Caleb took two steps and hoisted the log into the air. It flew higher than the others and landed on end. Rebecca found herself clapping, sure that it was going to topple over. Caleb was sure too. He lifted his hands high into the air and turned back to the others.

 
“See!” he called. “That’s how you do it!”

  The log teetered, but instead of falling forward, it fell back.

  “Caleb, watch out!” Amos called.

  Caleb glanced back and then jumped out of the way. Seconds later the log slammed down just where he’d been standing.

  “He . . . he could have been killed.” Rebecca’s voice quivered. Her knees began to tremble and she hurried away from the others. The world around her turned to shades of gray, and she didn’t know what to do. Her stomach rumbled and she placed a hand over the center of it, sure she was going to throw up. She moved toward the wagon and sat on top of the plastic bin that held their lunch items. Leaning over, she rested her elbows on her knees.

  “Are you okay, sweetie?” It was Millie’s voice.

  “Yes, fine, just scared, that’s all.” She attempted to keep her voice from trembling. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t stop the pain from swelling. She had the same feeling, deep in her gut, that she’d had when she lost Claudia.

  “Sweetie, didn’t you see? The log didn’t hit him.”

  “Ye–yes. I know.”

  How could she tell Millie that it was so much more than that? Rebecca had thought she was making all the right decisions, but instead she felt as if all that she cared about was like sand sliding through her fingertips.

  “I’m ready to just be there, Millie,” she said with a big gulp. “I just want to be in Portland. I want to . . . I want to not hurt anyone else again. Or be hurt.”

  “Oh, darling.” Millie sat beside her. “Don’t we all wish that? If Johnson’s ‘No more tears’ was for sale at the five-and-dime, such a thing would be all sold out by now.” She took Rebecca’s hand and squeezed. “But I know one thing: I know that God has a plan for you right here.” Millie stamped her boot on the ground.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because you’re here . . . and I’m here too. God has put us both here for a reason.”

  She gazed up into the older woman’s face. “I care for him, Millie.”

  “I know you do.”

  “But I can’t. If I do, it’ll ruin everything.”

  “Not the most important things.” Millie smiled. “I know something else, Rebecca . . . if you’ll allow me to say it.”

  Rebecca turned and looked at the older woman, focusing on her eyes. She waited, and then she breathed out a sigh. “What is it?”

  “There will come a time when there will be no more pain. No more heartache. If we had it here, we wouldn’t need eternity, and if we had no need for eternity, we’d have no need for Jesus. Following Him isn’t just a set of rules, like so many think. But God’s available to be here and to help us. All we have to do is pray—to ask for wisdom and to not let our own ego get in the way as we try to figure out everything on our own.”

  Even though her stomach still roiled, Rebecca felt a lightness in her chest from Millie’s words. She’d been trying to tackle everything on her own for so long.

  “You know, I had a sweet friend, Ida Mae, who passed away not too long ago,” Millie said. “And she had a very special box. It was called a Promise Box. Every time she read God’s Word and she came upon one of God’s promises, she’d write down the promise on a piece of paper, fold it up, and put it in the box. She also wrote letters—just to herself—of things God was doing in her life. Every time she got discouraged, she’d go back to that box and read another promise . . . or she was reminded of a way God worked.”

  Rebecca nodded, thinking of how God had worked in her life. He’d given Oma faith in her dream. He’d provided finances for schooling. He’d provided her friend at the library to offer her a computer and help her with online classes. Even Lora had often given her rides and never requested payment.

  “I liked her idea, but there’s one I like even better: I heard this woman on the radio who said that after her mother died she found a similar type of box in her mother’s bedroom. It was filled with prayers—for herself, for her children, and even for the needs of strangers. Every time a worry filled her mind, this woman would write it down, fold it up, and give it to God. From her worries over finding the right paint choice when painting the dining room walls to discovering she had cancer . . . all her needs went in there. And to her it was symbolic of turning the cares over to Him. So I started doing that. Do you want to see my God box?”

  Rebecca’s eyes widened. “You brought it with you?”

  “Of course. Who am I to think that we were going to make it through this trip with no worries?” Millie patted Rebecca’s knee and then rose. She went to the back of the wagon Amos had been driving and rifled through a red suitcase. A minute later she returned with a simple shoe box. She sat again and took off the cardboard lid. Inside, the box was half filled with little scraps of paper. Millie pulled one out and unfolded it.

  “ ‘Dear God, I pray that that sound my truck is making isn’t anything serious,’ ” Rebecca read.

  Millie nodded. “It was just my brakes. I got them squared away and it didn’t cost too much.”

  Millie opened another one. “ ‘Dear God, please help Ellie Sommer learn to read better.’ ” She refolded it. “I was talking to Ruth one day at the store and she said the teacher was worried. They got Ellie’s eyes tested, and she doesn’t have a problem with her vision, and I told Ruth I’d turn it over to God.”

  “Go ahead,” she continued, “pick out a few.”

  Rebecca grabbed a couple of pieces of paper. She unfolded the first one. “ ‘Lord, please let Marianna’s baby stick this time.’ ” Rebecca offered a sad smile. “I hope this prayer does work, Millie.”

  Then she opened the next one. “ ‘Dear Lord, help Rebecca see how much You love her, and help her accept the love of others too.’ ”

  Millie’s eyes widened, as if she was surprised that one—of all the pieces of paper—was the one Rebecca picked.

  “Is that the way you see things, Millie?”

  Millie shrugged. “It’s not your fault, you know.”

  “What’s not my fault?”

  “Your sister’s death. I know I’m old, but I have good hearing. I heard you telling Caleb last night.”

  Rebecca lowered her head. “It feels that way. Like I should have been able to do something to help her.”

  “Danger, death, is all around us, Rebecca. No matter how we prepare, we can’t keep it at bay. Who knows? Today might be my last day on earth.”

  Rebecca gasped. “Don’t say that, Millie.”

  “It’s true, darling, and I’ve nothing to worry about. I’ve crossed the bridge.”

  “The bridge?”

  “You better believe it. Now, school doesn’t do much for me, but I do like to study my Bible. Did you know that the word for priest in Latin is pontifex, which means ‘bridge builder’? Jesus is the bridge builder. He’s the only One who can carry us from this world of sin and pain to God. Just like that big bridge over Lake Koocanusa, we can’t get over to God’s eternity on our own strength. I may be able to jump five feet across, and you ten feet, but neither is enough. Yet with the kiss from a friend and His willingness to be offered up, Jesus died once and for all, sacrificing Himself. And He not only will carry us across someday, but until then He wants to carry our concerns to His Father.”

  “The truth is, Millie, I’m afraid to pray. Because what if I do and God leads me a different direction than I had planned?”

  “My pastor told me something once, and I’ve thought of it often—daily, almost. He said something like, ‘If we were all-loving and all-knowing like God, we’d choose just as He does.’ It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  Rebecca gasped as Millie said those words. “I don’t know about that. I wouldn’t have chosen to have my sister die . . . no matter what.”

  “I wouldn’t think you would, but somehow God allowed it. He had a purpose that you might never know. Maybe part of it was to put you on the path you’re on. Maybe part of it was to introduce you to Caleb.”

  Rebe
cca placed her fingertips to her temples. It hurt her brain to think about those things. It hurt to think that she was going to have to face a lifetime of hurting.

  “Do you think I could close my eyes for just a few minutes? Rest?” Rebecca pointed to a shady spot under a tree.

  “Of course, darling. I’ll wake you when we head out. Sometimes the best thing we can do with our minds and hearts is to allow ourselves to rest. After all, a heavy heart takes a lot of work to carry around.”

  CHAPTER

  19

  Caleb could see his breath on the morning air. There was even a chill on the ax handle as he lifted it, feeling its weight, wondering which weighed less—the ax or his heart.

  Fall was usually his favorite time of year, but today the cold seemed too much. Even the idea that hunting season was one day closer did nothing to ease his frustration.

  Annie emerged from her tent with their tin coffeepot. Had she known, too, that Rebecca was wearing Amish dress but had no plans to stay Amish? Had Millie said something? Were they offering silent pity for the way he’d been acting so stupid? He wished he could ask Annie, but that would only make things worse. If he talked about Rebecca, said too much, then they’d all figure out he’d had feelings for her . . . and then he’d really look like the fool.

  The morning warmed up quickly, and Caleb was only partly surprised when Millie asked if she could ride with him that day. She walked with quickened steps with her stadium cushion tucked under her arm. He offered his hand, and Millie took it, climbing up into the wagon as if she were half her age. They hadn’t been riding very long when Millie pulled off her cowboy hat, allowing the sun to warm the top of her head.

  “Do you like stories?”

  “Yes, of course. Especially ones from you, Millie.” Was she going to repeat the same stories she’d already shared with Amos? Wouldn’t surprise him.