by Beth Wiseman
Ben cleared the frog from his throat and wished he’d spent more time hanging out with young men he knew who were smoother with the ladies. He’d been too serious, too focused on apprenticing with Rebecca’s father, and then too focused on Rebecca.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he began.
She smiled slightly. “Ya, I figured you did. You’ve never asked me to have a meal out.”
“We’ve known each other for a long time. Been friends for a long time.”
“I couldn’t have gotten through these past years without you.”
He sat back, a little surprised. “You’ve never said that before.”
She dropped her gaze to her silverware again. “I’m coming to realize that for some time now I’ve been a little . . . self-centered.”
Ben reached to touch her hand. “That’s not true.”
She stared at his hand covering hers, then raised her eyes to look at him.
His hand curled around hers. “Rebecca, I want us to be married.”
It was a good thing she was sitting down, he realized. She paled, then blushed, and her eyes widened.
“I—this is sudden—” she began.
“I think we’d suit,” he said, and the minute the words were out, he knew he’d made a mistake.
She straightened, and her expression became blank. “Suit?”
“We get along so well, enjoy the same things. That’s more important than being madly in love, isn’t it?”
She pulled her hand back and placed it in her lap. “I suppose so, for some people.” She took a deep breath, then her eyes met his. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we want the same things, Ben.”
“Well, we haven’t talked about having kinner, but you want to, don’t you?”
“Yes, but that wasn’t what I was talking about,” she said softly.
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. She pushed back her chair, and it scraped the floor and jarred his nerves. “I have to get back to the shop.”
She fled before he could even get to his feet.
Stunned, Ben sat there staring after her. “Nice job, Ben Weaver,” he muttered. “Real smooth.”
Rebecca found herself out on the sidewalk, in the midst of people who parted and moved around her like water around a stone in its path. She blinked at the tears that threatened. Don’t cry, she told herself firmly. There was no way she could go back to the shop all upset. A quick glance at a clock hanging outside a shop showed that she still had some time, since her boss had been so generous about a longer lunch break.
Glancing back, she saw Ben emerging from the restaurant. He looked to his left. Before he could look in her direction, she ducked into a shop. She couldn’t endure talking to him right now. He walked past the shop a few minutes later, and when she drew closer to the front window, she saw that he stood outside the one where she worked. His hand went to the doorknob, then it fell to his side. Shaking his head, he walked away.
Rebecca bit her lip. Wasn’t it bad enough that she’d started to feel like an old maid without having the least romantic proposal in history? And she wasn’t even the kind of woman who harbored silly, girlish dreams of a man sweeping her off her feet. She’d been raised to be a practical woman, concerned with what was really important— faith, work, dedication to family.
But was it so wrong to want a man to want her because he loved her, because he felt something so powerful that he could envision spending the rest of his life with her? Did he have to say they’d “suit”?
“Can I help you with anything?” a salesclerk asked.
The voice sounded familiar. Rebecca’s heart sank. With a sigh, she turned.
“Oh, Rebecca, hi. I didn’t realize it was you.”
“Hi, Mary Anne.” The woman was several years younger than her, small and sharp-featured. Rebecca gestured at the rack of embroidery thread. “I had a few minutes left of my break. I thought I’d pick up a few things for my mamm.”
Mary Anne’s eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”
“Ya.”
“Your eyes look red, like you’ve been crying.”
“The cold wind made my eyes burn.”
The other young woman glanced outside, then back at Rebecca. “Did I see you go past with Ben Weaver a little while ago?”
“Yes. He was in town picking up supplies.”
“You didn’t come in with him?”
Rebecca busied herself picking out colors of thread. None would be wasted, and it was a good way to stay casual and not give Mary Anne something to gossip about.
“No, I’m working today. He just decided since he was here we could have lunch. He has meals at our house a lot, since he works with Daed.”
“So you think he wouldn’t want to do it if he didn’t have to,” Mary Anne said, her small eyes scanning Rebecca for a reaction.
“Yes, wouldn’t you?” Rebecca responded with a nonchalance she didn’t feel.
“I always wondered if the two of you would get married.”
“Really? We’re just friends.” She moved away, and Mary Anne moved with her, standing too close. “I think I’ll get Mamm a new thimble too. The one she has is so old and worn, you can nearly see through the metal.”
“Not to discourage you from buying it,” Mary Anne said, “but sometimes a woman gets attached to such things and won’t use a new one.”
Rebecca nodded and put the thimble down. “You’re right. Lizzie bought her that thimble that last Christmas.”
Glancing at the clock, she moved to the counter with the cash register. “Can you ring these up for me? I need to get back to work.”
Her package in hand, Rebecca left the shop. She didn’t want to go back to work, but she had no choice. There was no way she’d let her employer down, even if Anita had said things were slow today. Fortunately, when she returned, the other woman looked up in relief.
“Thank goodness you’re back,” she exclaimed. “It started getting busy a few minutes ago.”
The distraction was just what Rebecca needed. She put the package away and turned to help a customer choose some stationery with photographs of Paradise printed on it. The hours passed quickly, and when it was time to turn the Open sign around and lock the door, Rebecca realized she’d gotten through the afternoon without thinking about Ben and his disappointing proposal.
“We were so busy I forgot to ask how your lunch with your young man went.”
“He’s not my young man,” Rebecca told her politely. “He’s just a good friend.”
“Really?” Anita glanced up from counting money. “Hmm . . .” She stopped and shrugged. “Well, I probably shouldn’t be so nosy. After living here in Lancaster County for twenty years, I’ve learned that Plain people don’t talk about such things, especially to the Englisch.”
“It’s all right,” Rebecca assured her. “I meant to tell you that I did appreciate your letting me have the extra time. Ben doesn’t come to town often.”
Anita nodded and slipped the money into a bank deposit bag, then filled out a deposit slip. She looked at Rebecca and sighed. “You’re such a sweet girl, and I know you’ve had some real tragedy in your young life. I’d just like to see you find a young man, get married, and be happy. Even if it meant that one day I’d lose the best employee I’ve had since I opened the shop.”
“That’s really sweet,” Rebecca managed. “But I don’t have to be married to be happy.”
“No, of course not. Blame my romantic heart.” She retrieved her purse from a locked drawer under the cash register. “I had thirty-four wonderful years with my Phil.”
She gave the shop a quick look over, nodded, then turned to Rebecca. “Ready to go home? I’m looking forward to having a nice supper and putting my feet up.”
Rebecca was too. Then her eyes widened. What if Ben came to supper at her house? What would she do if she had to sit next to him and pretend nothing was different? Because everything was different now. Ev
erything about her relationship with Ben had changed in just a few minutes. And she didn’t know what she was going to do about it.
With the workday finally over, Rebecca was glad to be home. That is, until she shed her coat and bonnet and walked into the kitchen.
Ben was sitting in his usual place at the table, having a cup of coffee. He looked up, then away as she stopped and stared at him.
Her mother smiled. “Did you have a good day?”
“It was fine. Hello, Ben.”
“Hello.”
“Ben’s staying for supper.” Mamm opened the oven door and peered inside.
What’s new? Rebecca wondered, trying not to look at him as she went to wash her hands.
But what was he thinking? He wasn’t going to act like nothing had happened today, go on the same way he had for years, was he?
“Your mother insisted I stay because it’s Abram’s Gebottsdaag,” he told Rebecca quietly as Naomi pulled a big casserole from the oven.
As was family tradition, the meal consisted of the birthday child’s favorites. The chicken and noodle casserole was one of Rebecca’s favorites, too, but her stomach was in knots. She took just a small portion and pushed it around on her plate.
“Ben, you’re not eating much,” Naomi said.
“Sorry, I had a big lunch in town today while I was picking up supplies.”
Rebecca casually placed her napkin over part of her plate and jumped up to collect them so dessert could be served.
“Well, you must have a slice of birthday cake, right, Abram?”
“He doesn’t have to. I could eat his piece for him.” But Abram, just turned five, grinned to show he was joking.
Ben accepted a plate with cake and ice cream and passed it to Rebecca. There was a look in his eyes, she thought, a silent accusation, as if he wondered how she could eat. Why should he care when he’d been so casual and unemotional with his proposal?
She knew she wasn’t as attractive as her twin sister, and she didn’t have as interesting a personality. But even if she’d been looking at him with different eyes lately, that didn’t mean that she was willing to give up the right to a life with a man who loved her. She’d lost enough in her life. Did she have to lose the dream most young girls dreamed too?
Rebecca stabbed at a bite of cake with her fork and shoved it into her mouth. It tasted too sweet, and the frosting stuck to the roof of her mouth. Food just wasn’t agreeing with her tonight.
And it didn’t appear Ben was doing much better. He shoveled in a couple of mouthfuls and then, quietly taking her cue, covered the rest with his napkin. When she glanced over and saw what he’d done, he gave her a look that was a silent challenge. She shrugged, not interested in making him look bad to her family.
She just wanted him gone.
Finally the meal was over and she could turn her back— politely—on Ben. Get the dishes done and escape to her room.
Six-year-old Annie got up on a step stool and held out her hands for a dish towel. She smiled as Rebecca handed her a dish to dry and worked on the task with great concentration.
She looked up. “Becca?”
“Yes?”
“Are there birthdays in heaven?”
Rebecca nearly dropped the dish she was washing. “I don’t know. I guess so. I mean, birthdays are good and heaven’s good, right?”
“So Lizzie gets to have birthdays?”
Tears threatened. Rebecca nodded. “With lots of cake and ice cream.”
“And Jesus sings the ‘Happy Birthday’ song to her?”
“Yes, liebschdi.” Wiping her hands on a towel, Rebecca turned and bent to hug her little sister.
“I think she’s having a wonderful time in heaven,” Ben said.
Startled, Rebecca turned at the deep timbre of his voice. She hadn’t realized he’d come up behind them with an empty coffee mug.
“You do?” Annie asked him, staring up at him with big eyes.
“I do,” he told her, stroking her hair with his big, work-roughened hand.
“We’re all done. Why don’t you go ask Mamm if she needs any help?” Rebecca suggested.
“Okay. Bye, Ben.”
“Bye.” He turned to Rebecca. “I’ll wash this since you’re already done.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re a guest.” She tried to take it, but he resisted for a moment, then released it. She turned back to the sink.
“I’m sorry. I tried not to stay,” he said in a low voice.
“I’m sure you did.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was in hearing range, Rebecca met his eyes. She sighed. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I don’t want to fight with you.”
“I don’t understand what happened today.”
He stopped as Amos came into the room to get himself a cup of coffee, then left.
“You acted like I did something wrong. What did I do?”
Quivering with emotion, Rebecca put the last dried mug in the cabinet and slammed the door. “If you don’t know, Ben Weaver, I’m not going to tell you.” And she turned and left the room.
Chapter Nine
REBECCA NEARLY RAN INTO HER MOTHER IN HER RUSH out of the kitchen.
“I heard raised voices. What’s going on?” When Rebecca didn’t answer, Mamm looked past her. “Ben? What’s the matter?”
“Ask her,” he said shortly and started to walk past her. Then he stopped. “I’m sorry, Naomi. I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Rebecca. Tell Amos I’ll see him in the morning.”
Then he left.
“Did the two of you have an argument?”
Rebecca avoided looking at her mother. “Not exactly.”
Naomi touched her daughter’s cheek and frowned. “It’s obvious you’re upset about something. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s—personal.”
Naomi took her daughter’s hand and drew her down to sit. “You would tell me if Ben . . . touched you or said anything inappropriate.”
“Ben would never do that.”
“But you’re angry at him. Can’t you tell me why?”
“It’s complicated,” Rebecca said finally. She was tired, so tired of holding in how hurt she felt. How could she tell her mother that Ben had asked to marry her in just about the most passionless way that a man could?
He’d been a good friend to her, knew her better than anybody except her family. But even when she’d been grieving, when she’d been depressed, when she’d been in emotional deep freeze, she was still a person who wanted someone to think she was pretty, to want her for a better reason than that they would “suit”—whatever that meant.
It sounded like they’d be like two passionless people walking together through decades.
She couldn’t tell her mother that. She could barely wrap her mind around it herself.
Naomi squeezed her hand. “Love doesn’t always run smoothly.” Her voice was gentle, her eyes warm and compassionate.
If only she could have heard Ben, Rebecca thought.
“It’s a mother’s wish that you find a mann who’ll love you and who you’ll love,” Naomi said gently. “If it’s God’s will, you’ll find him and experience the joy of married love, grow together spiritually as a couple, as parents.”
Annie came running in. “Mamm, Abram says his tummy hurts.”
“Tell him I’ll be right there.” She turned back to Rebecca with a smile. “I shouldn’t have let him have that second slice of cake.”
“Do you want me to go?”
Naomi got to her feet and bent down to kiss Rebecca on the cheek. “No, you’ve had a long day.”
Rebecca looked around the kitchen, found it spotless, and then went into the den to say gut nacht to her father. It took a few minutes to look in on each of her brothers and sisters and wish them sweet dreams.
Then, dressed in her nightgown, snug in her bed, she pulled out her journal and wrote about her day, pouring out her d
isappointment in the pages. When she thought she’d written all that she could, she started to slide it back under her pillow. Her fingers touched Lizzie’s journal, and she brought it out to stare at it for a moment. Sweet Annie had asked if Lizzie got to have birthdays in heaven. When she thought of her twin, Rebecca thought of Lizzie at the age of seventeen when she’d left the earth.
She’d been feeling sorry for herself earlier, when she’d let what Ben had asked make her unhappy. But Lizzie wasn’t going to have the chance to marry a man she loved or have children with him or grow old with him. Guilt swamped her for a moment. Then she shook her head. She needed to make peace with God’s will.
Ben had been there for her so many times when she’d been grieving for Lizzie. Maybe their friendship was all that they were supposed to have, maybe he just wanted someone safe—something safe. When he’d approached her at the sink in the kitchen, he’d sounded like he truly didn’t know what he’d done wrong.
Maybe Ben was as lonely as she was sometimes. After all, it was written in the Scriptures that a man should not be alone. Perhaps he was simply trying to find someone to walk down life’s path with. She had to find it in her heart to forgive him, to give up this hurt and anger she was feeling. Otherwise it was going to be too hard to bump into him at church services, at frolics, at so many events and in so many places in their community.
Even though she felt tears of hurt well up in her eyes again, she blinked them away. A verse from the Psalms came to her: “Tears may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” Tomorrow would be better.
Even though it was cold in the barn, Ben was grateful that he was able to work here this morning instead of within the close confines of someone’s kitchen. It felt good to be doing manual labor, pounding out his frustrations with his hammer.
Why had he thought that the only answer that he could get from Rebecca would be yes? Why had he been so assured that Rebecca was the one God planned for him that he hadn’t considered that he would be going home with his heart discouraged and colder and lonelier than ever?
All these years he’d waited for her, and now he wondered if he’d wasted his time. Had he stubbornly been insisting on what God’s will was for his life instead of listening for God to tell him?