by Beth Wiseman
Marian sidled up to her sister at the counter. “So, Rebecca,” she said, “is Ben joining us tonight?”
Chapter Seven
NO ONE EXPECTED REBECCA TO ATTEND ANY FUNERALS in the community for several years after Lizzie’s death. But the Lantzes’ flamboyant Auntie Ruth had died last summer, and a few days ago, a beloved onkel had died, so Rebecca went to the services. She was grateful that both had been elderly and lived good, long lives. But she couldn’t help it; going to Onkel John’s funeral made her think about Lizzie’s.
Now she wanted a connection with her sister, a more cheerful one. She pulled Lizzie’s journal from under her pillow and climbed onto her bed. Somehow, reading her words almost made her feel as if Lizzie were in the room with her—even in the same bed. She smiled as she remembered how, when they were little girls, her parents would find them sleeping together, as if they still wanted the closeness of the womb.
After Lizzie died, Rebecca felt she was invading Lizzie’s privacy when she read her journal. But she justified it by telling herself that she missed her sister so much, she just wanted the closeness. Besides, she and Lizzie had always shared everything.
Well, she’d thought they shared everything. The first time she opened the journal and read an entry, she’d been shocked. She turned to that page again.
I’ve known my twin sister, Rebecca, all my life, Lizzie had written in the journal, in the quick, careless scrawl that would have made their teacher wince. It still surprises me that we’re so different. She’s almost timid compared to me. And she’s always watching me and worrying over what I do, almost like she’s my mother, not my sister. I love her, but I wish she’d stop that. She tells me that she’s the oldest and it’s her job to look out for all of us. She was born six minutes before me. Six minutes! Should that really mean she’s the oldest? Maybe she crowded me when it came time to be born. No, I don’t really mean that. Rebecca would never put herself first. She never does.
Rebecca winced. Lizzie sounded . . . annoyed that she’d simply cared enough to look out for her. Imagine!
She heard footsteps on the wooden stairs and quickly thrust the journal behind her. Marian walked into the room. “You okay?”
“Sure, why?”
Marian shrugged. “I just thought maybe you were upset after going to the funeral.”
Rebecca studied her sister. Marian’s forehead was drawn in concern. It was an expression she saw often on her sister’s face.
Marian was becoming her! She was worrying over Rebecca the way Rebecca had worried over Lizzie. Guilt swamped her. “I’m fine. Really. I was just reading. It was a long morning.”
Her sister nodded. “I’m going to have some hot chocolate with Mamm. Want some?”
“No, thanks.”
Marian walked out and Rebecca stared after her. When she heard her sister’s footsteps descend the stairs, she got up and walked over to her chest of drawers. Reaching back behind a stack of underwear, she pulled out a leather-bound journal and took it to her bed. She leafed through the pages and frowned. The last entry was a year to the date from Lizzie’s death.
The handwriting was large and dark, slashing across the page, not her usual neat writing. Here and there the words were marked by patches where her tears had fallen.
It’s not fair! she’d written. God, why did You take my sister from us? It was written over and over again, a litany of anger. She glanced heavenward. Thank goodness her God wasn’t an angry God, or He’d have struck her down.
She leafed through the pages and found more of the same, until she reached the page where she’d written about the awful day at the pond. Taking a deep breath, she moved on and found the entries before that.
I wonder what will happen one day when one of us finds that special man, the one we want to spend the rest of our lives with. I’ll be happy, of course, to be with him. But it will be strange to be so completely separate from this sister I’ve lived so close to from the moment our hearts started beating in the womb. We share thoughts without speaking, have shared memories. Mamm always talks about how we had our own language no one else understood until we started talking with others in the family.
My husband will have to understand that Lizzie will be a frequent visitor, of course. We’ll visit often. Maybe we’ll get married at the same time . . . find our special men and have a double wedding? And wouldn’t it be so wunderbaar to have our kinner play together and grow up close cousins?
Maybe one of us will even have twins. I know God determines these things, but I think Lizzie should have them. I know she thinks of me as a little mudder, always watching over her. But she has a sense of adventure I admire. Kinner need that, not just the mothering.
I wonder if it’ll be Ben I marry. He’s so cute. And he’s been paying attention to me, not the other girls. Well, teasing me, but he doesn’t do it with them. I think he likes me, and I know I like him. A lot.
Rebecca smiled as she closed the book and slid the two journals under her pillow. That’s where Lizzie had kept hers—under her pillow. She hadn’t made any secret of it to Rebecca, pulling it out and writing in it each night before bed. But no one else had known about it. Rebecca felt a little guilty that she hadn’t shared it with her mother, but the time had never been right. Maybe one day. There were entries in there about Mamm and Daed. Some of the things that Lizzie had written would make them smile, even when she complained about their being too strict. There were lots of those entries because Lizzie frequently wanted to do things that she shouldn’t. But she had written just as often of her love for her parents and for her sisters and brothers.
Her entries about Rebecca had made her smile and made her frown. But Rebecca didn’t want to think about those now. So what did she want to do now? Rebecca found herself thinking about Ben, how he’d looked at her that day. How it had felt to be held in his strong arms when he picked her up to put her in the buggy. How they’d looked at each other, breath held, their faces inches apart. How it had felt when his hand touched hers.
She wanted to see him again. Be with him.
So what was she waiting for?
She jumped up, freshened up, and then went clattering down the stairs. Her mamm and Marian looked up in surprise.
“Are Daed and Ben still out in the barn?”
Naomi nodded.
Rebecca threw on her coat and slipped out the door. As she went to shut it, she heard Marian saying, “Bet it’s Ben she wants to see, not Daed,” then her mother’s answering laugh.
Ben and Amos looked up in surprise when Rebecca entered the barn.
“Daed, could I talk to Ben for a minute?”
Amos put down the sandpaper he’d been using on a cabinet and nodded. “I think I’ll get a cup of coffee,” he said as he strolled out.
As he passed Ben, out of sight of Rebecca, he turned and winked at him.
“Guder mariye.”
Ben nodded as he searched her face. “Guder mariye.” He hesitated and then plunged ahead. “I’m glad you went to your onkel’s funeral. It meant a lot to your Aenti Esther. I wasn’t sure you’d go.”
“I’m fine.” She smiled. “People don’t need to baby me, Ben. Not anymore.”
He found himself smiling back. Weak sunlight came filtering in through the half-open barn door, bringing out the golden flecks in her hazel eyes. He could stand and look into them for hours. Then he realized she was talking to him. “What?”
“I wondered if you’d like to go on a picnic tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Ya, it’s Saturday, remember? I have this Saturday off.”
“I was just thinking it’s cold out.”
She laughed and shook her head at him, and he thought how he loved her laugh. He hadn’t heard it much these past few years.
“I know. So we’ll wear coats and sit in the buggy if it’s too cold to sit at a picnic table somewhere. I thought I’d pack us a basket lunch, and we could go for a ride.”
Ben swallowed. This wa
s more than he’d expected when he’d first tentatively talked with her about their seeing each other.
“That’d be great.”
“Good. I’ll make some of your favorites.” She started for the door, then turned and glanced over her shoulder. “That would be food and food and food, right?”
Laughing, he nodded. “Right. Noon?”
“Noon.” She looked back at him for a long moment. “’Bye.”
Ben stood there for a long time after she left. What a surprise.
He didn’t know how long he might have stood there thinking about what had happened. The barn door opened, and he quickly picked up a hammer just in case it was Amos.
“Did I give you enough time?” Amos asked politely.
“Yes.” Ben gave him a level stare, then followed the older man’s gaze to the hammer in his hand.
Before Rebecca came, he’d been sanding the wooden cabinet in front of him. Setting down the hammer, he picked up the sandpaper and began running it over the wood.
Rebecca shut the barn doors and grinned. Well, that had been easier than she’d thought it would be.
And Ben had looked surprised. Well, it wasn’t something she’d ever thought she’d do—ask a mann out. But Ben wasn’t just any mann. He was—Ben, her best friend.
She was humming when she walked back into the house. Taking off her coat, she turned around and found her mother and Marian staring at her.
“What?”
“Something in the barn make you happy?” Mamm asked.
“More likely someone,” Marian said.
Rebecca clapped a hand to her mouth. She’d meant to talk to her sister about how she felt about Ben. “Oh, Marian, I hope—”
“Nee, it’s all right!” Marian said, laughing. “I’m not interested in Ben. I was just practicing.”
“Practicing?” Rebecca and Mamm said at the same time.
She batted her eyelashes at them. “Yes, practicing.” Then she giggled and jumped up to hug Rebecca. “It’s always been you and Ben. Always.”
Rebecca smiled. “Ya.”
“I should have taken you somewhere.” Ben gestured at the spot beside the road where he’d pulled the buggy. “A restaurant or something. We haven’t been anyplace like that for a long time. Remember when we went to a movie?”
“That was a long time ago. During our rumschpringe.” She looked around, enjoying the quiet. “You never ran with the boys who wanted to see more of the Englisch world.”
He shrugged. “I had everything I wanted here. Family. Church.” He paused. “You.”
A blush crept up her cheeks. She’d felt the same. This was her world, so aptly named Paradise, full of friends and family. And a man who had waited for her.
“You warm enough?”
Nodding, Rebecca poured hot chocolate into a cup and handed it to Ben. “Ya. You?”
“That chili you made for us should be melting the snow from the roof of the buggy,” he told her with a laugh. “I can’t believe I ate two bowls.”
As they’d expected, it had been too cold to sit outside, so Ben had taken them for a drive and found a place where they could pull the buggy off the road and park for a quiet picnic.
“It wasn’t so hot it kept you from eating it.”
“I’m stronger than I look.”
“Guess you had to be, to be around me the past five years,” she said with a rueful smile.
He touched her hand. “Don’t say that. I cared about you. I care about you.”
Rebecca looked down at his hand and turned hers over so that she could clasp it. A gust of wind shook the buggy, and cold crept in with icy fingers. She shivered.
“We should go.”
“Not yet.” She stared out at the landscape. “I’m ready for winter to be over.”
“Rebecca?”
Turning, she saw that he was watching her with those serious eyes of his. “Does this mean you want us to be more than friends?”
“Yes,” she said simply and was warmed by the look in his eyes. They went for drives and to singings. Ben often stayed for dinner with her family. On the surface, nothing appeared different to the casual observer.
But the way they looked at each other was different. Rebecca had the sense that Ben was being careful, that he knew this was important and wanted to take the time for them both to be comfortable with their changing relationship.
They held hands under the table as they ate dinner at her parents’ table and when she walked outside to talk to him privately, quietly, before he left for home.
And one night, when Rebecca went to bed, she pulled out her journal again. Instead of the angry, slashing words demanding to know why God had taken her sister, she wrote: Forgive me, God, for being angry with You. I still don’t understand why You took Lizzie home. But I trust You.
Then, as if the pen had a mind of its own, she wrote: God, is this the man You have set aside for me?
Chapter Eight
REBECCA LOOKED STARTLED TO SEE HIM WALK INTO THE gift shop in the middle of the day. She hurried to his side.
“Ben! What are you doing here? Is something wrong with Daed or Mamm?”
“No, nothing’s wrong,” he reassured her. “I came into town for supplies and such. I thought I’d stop in and see if you’d like to have lunch.”
She glanced at the clock. “I’m not due for lunch break for another fifteen minutes.”
“That’s fine.” He glanced around and saw a woman he assumed was her boss looking over curiously. “I’ll wait outside.”
Even on a cold day—maybe because it was a cold day—there were some people out shopping, walking briskly along the sidewalks, going in and out of shops, eager for after-Christmas bargains.
Ben felt odd being in town in the middle of the day during the workweek. Even odder was thinking about having his midday meal at a restaurant instead of eating at home or with Amos and Naomi and sometimes Rebecca, if she were home. Or, if they were on a job site, sometimes he and Amos ate a packed lunch to save time.
A female tourist walked past, eyeing Ben’s Plain clothing. Her hand moved to the camera that hung by a strap around her neck. He frowned, and she apparently thought better of it. She smiled apologetically and hurried on.
Ben sat down on a nearby bench and idly watched people passing. Now that he’d decided to move forward, he wondered why he was feeling a little anxious. Maybe it was because it was unaccustomed territory. Once a man decided he wanted a woman for his fraa and he was assured that she was indeed interested in a serious relationship, there was no uncertainty. They got to know each other better in the months before their marriage and that was that. Occasionally a couple might decide not to proceed to marriage, but it didn’t happen often.
He didn’t know why things had to be so complicated with him and Rebecca. He knew how he felt about her, and he knew she was attracted to him. They’d been friends for years, and that was the best foundation for a marriage, wasn’t it? Long after that initial passion for each other faded to a warm glow, the love they’d shared, the friendship they’d nurtured, their strong faith in God guiding them . . . well, that would be what kept them together. He’d seen this in the many enduring marriages around him in the community.
As a practical man, he didn’t rush into things. But from the way his parents and his friends, even Rebecca’s daed, talked, he’d been dragging his feet. While he wasn’t going to allow someone else to influence him, he was tired of watching other men he knew marrying and starting families.
He knew family was important to Rebecca. But did she want a mann of her own? Kinner of her own? Or was she content to stay with her parents and her siblings?
What if he’d hung around all this time only to find out she didn’t want what he wanted? What if his steadfast belief that it was God’s will that they be together was just his own stubborn determination to get what he wanted? He wiped suddenly damp palms on his pants. Enough of this. He didn’t need to feel nervous. This was Rebecca.
Then she walked up to him. He saw the anxiety in her eyes even though she smiled.
“My boss let me go a little early. I think she was surprised that someone came in for me.”
“I haven’t been to town to eat in a long time. Why don’t you show me where the food is good and the service is fast. You have just a half hour, ya?”
“She said that I could take an hour today if I wanted to. It gets slow this time of day when people stop to eat.” She gestured toward a small restaurant down the block. “They have good food, and the prices are reasonable. This time of year there won’t be a lot of tourists.”
They walked down the sidewalk, and when another couple approached, Ben reached out and took Rebecca’s hand to draw her closer, to keep her from getting bumped. She glanced at him, and he saw surprise but also shy pleasure in her eyes. After the need passed for them to touch, she didn’t pull away and he didn’t let go. He was sorry when they reached the restaurant and he had to take back his hand to open the door and remove his hat.
The restaurant was quaint, decorated to look like a big, comfortable Amish kitchen, and the food was good, familiar country fare. A waitress came and took their orders, then they were left alone.
Rebecca fiddled with the silverware. He watched her take a deep breath and then look up at him.
“So, Ben, why are you here?”
Ben started to talk, but the waitress interrupted to set their drinks on the table. “Your order will be right out,” she told him with a bright smile.
His throat was suddenly dry. He took a sip of iced tea, then set the glass down. Don’t rush things, he told himself. This is too important. And what were you thinking, doing this at a meal? If you ask now and she says no, how are you going to sit here and force your sandwich down? So he made small talk, asked her about her job, got her talking. Their food came, and he found himself eating quickly.
Rebecca ate more slowly, as she usually did. Both of them declined dessert—Ben because the sandwich he’d eaten lay like lead in the pit of his stomach. Their plates were removed, and they were left to finish their drinks.