Seeing that—seeing her dat, who always had a handy joke to tell and a smile on his face, break down—undid her more than even the sight of their family home in flames. She felt the tears slip down her cheeks and was afraid she might break into giant sobs. The exhaustion of all that had happened felt like a heavy blanket that threatened to weigh her down.
“A friend is never truly known until a man has a need. This day my family had a need, and you have stepped forward to fill it. Danki, Daniel. We accept, and we thank you with all our hearts.”
Samuel pulled Daniel into a hug. Becca looked up in time to catch the expression on Daniel’s face, the way his eyes closed and the sigh escaped his lips, as if he were the one setting down a giant burden—and perhaps he was. Maybe Gotte was using this tragedy to heal Daniel in ways that Becca couldn’t completely understand.
Samuel turned to Sarah and slipped his hand in hers. “Let’s go tell the kinder.”
Before she followed her husband into the other room, Sarah walked over to Daniel, stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.
Saul smiled and said, “It’s settled, then.” With a wink, he turned and followed Becca’s parents into the sitting room.
Daniel looked as if he was afraid Becca might burst into tears again. She didn’t. She squared her shoulders, wiped her cheeks dry and sank into a kitchen chair. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“It’s not that big a deal, Becca.”
“You moved here to be alone.”
“It’s not as if your family is going to live with me forever.”
“Might seem that way, though.” She tried to smile to soften the words, but it felt as if she were stretching her lips in an awkward angle.
“Your family isn’t that bad.”
“Oh, don’t misunderstand me. I love them. And I appreciate what you’re doing.” She stared at the table, tracing the swirls in the wood with her fingertips. “Living with Hannah and Isabelle is like living with twin tornadoes. Clyde rarely remembers to wipe his feet. David eats more than a single person should be able to, and Eli has an old harmonica that he has taken to playing at odd hours in the barn.”
Daniel sat down next to her, reached forward and thumbed a smudge of soot off her face.
“David is hardly around at all—just long enough to eat and leave dirty laundry tossed about.”
“What about Francine and Georgia? Aren’t you going to warn me about them?”
“Georgia’s all right—though you’ll trip over her because she’s plopped down somewhere to read a book. Francine is still insisting she’s begun her rumspringa, though we all keep telling her she’s not old enough.”
“And your parents?”
“Mamm will be cooking all the time. You’ll probably put on ten pounds.”
“Are you saying I’ll get fat?”
“As for Dat, you know how it is with his jokes, he seems to have an endless supply.”
“Anything else?”
“Only all my projects...” The horror of what they’d been through hit her then. She pressed her fingers to her lips, closed her eyes and tried to calm her emotions. Her heart had other ideas. It tripped and rattled and seemed to push against her rib cage.
She felt as if her heart was going to collapse and explode all at the same time.
She felt as if the world was simply too much.
Daniel stood and pulled her into his arms, and Becca allowed herself to stop being the strong one. For the first time since smelling smoke, she allowed the fear and sorrow to have its way. She wept for all that they’d lost, for the terror she’d felt when she thought Clyde was trapped inside, for the anguish of seeing the home she’d grown up in disappear in flames.
Daniel didn’t try to reason with her.
He didn’t point out that everything would be okay or that they had much to be thankful for. He held her and let her weep. It was during that moment of intense grief both felt and shared that Becca accepted what she’d probably known for a long time—that she’d fallen in love with Daniel Glick.
* * *
The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. By the time they reached Daniel’s house, Bishop Saul had already put out the word. Hour after hour, people from their church as well as Englischers from the community showed up with clothes, bedding, mattresses, even extra food.
“Early Christmas,” Daniel muttered as he stuffed yet another casserole into his refrigerator.
Christmas was ten days away. Becca didn’t want to think about it. The few gifts she and her mamm had made had been destroyed in the fire. Instead of dwelling on that, she said, “I warned you about the ten pounds, and Mamm hasn’t even started cooking yet.”
Dinner was a somber affair, owing to the fact that nearly everyone was falling asleep in the chicken soup that Abigail had brought over. It was hard to believe that her baby was due before the end of the month.
At least the impending birth gave everyone something to look forward to.
If Becca thought about it too hard, the winter stretched in front of them like an endless parade of cold days, days she would be forced to stay inside, days in close proximity to Daniel, whom she had such strong feelings for. She didn’t completely understand those feelings yet. She couldn’t even flee to the barn for private time, since it was his barn as well as theirs.
She’d just have to put a lid on her feelings. Daniel couldn’t have been more clear about where he stood. How many times had he said that he wasn’t looking for a fraa? Every time one of the unmarried women at church threw a look his way, he practically ran for a rabbit hole.
She believed he did care for her, but she also understood that he had no intention to marry anytime soon. When she thought about it in that light, she convinced herself that his feelings for her were not serious. There had been a few kisses, but now it seemed as if those lighthearted moments had happened a hundred years ago. As for his comforting her earlier in Bishop Saul’s home, no doubt he’d been doing just that—comforting a friend who had just lost their home.
No, she would not be confessing her feelings to Daniel.
Her heart had endured quite enough for one day.
Throughout the meal, she’d steal a glimpse at him, prepared to see a look of regret on his face. Surely he was beginning to understand the enormity of what he’d done by inviting the entire family into his home. If he was regretting it, then he was hiding it well.
He even laughed at her dat’s joke.
“What do you call a horse that lives next door?” Samuel barely waited before delivering his punch line: “A neigh-bor.”
Hannah and Daniel were the only ones to laugh aloud.
Isabelle, attempting to butter her piece of corn bread, said, “Our horse will live here now. Right? Since the Bontragers brought him back? I wonder if Old Boy is scared, being in a different place and all.”
Becca guessed that everyone at the table understood Isabelle wasn’t speaking only of the horse. It was Daniel who suggested checking on the animals. “We can go out together, maybe take both Old Boy and Constance a carrot.”
“I wanna go, too.” Hannah moved her spoon around in her soup. “Maybe I can take them my peas. Mamm, do I have to eat these peas?”
Which turned the conversation to all the food that had been donated, how generous their neighbors had been—both Englisch and Amish. Daniel met Becca’s gaze and winked. Oh, but he was a charmer when he wanted to be.
By nine that evening, everyone was in bed. They’d found a place for each person to sleep, barely. The five girls managed to fit into one room with a bit of creative rearranging. Clyde, David and Eli spread across the living room, and it wasn’t lost on Becca that Eli was using Daniel’s sleeping bag—the same sleeping bag he’d once slept in on the back porch.
Well, at least no one was in the barn. Her parents took the smallest guest bedr
oom, claiming there were only two of them, so they didn’t need as much space. Daniel tried to give up his room, but everyone put up such a fuss that he raised his hands in surrender.
Becca lay on the mattress she was sharing with Hannah and Isabelle and listened as her schweschdern’s breathing slowed. Why couldn’t she fall asleep? Shouldn’t she be exhausted? But there were too many images flipping through her brain—rushing through the smoke, flames shooting out of the top of her house, Daniel standing in the cold with her siblings, her family huddled together as the firefighters worked to contain the blaze.
She tried deep breathing, praying, even counting sheep. Finally she stood, reached for her robe and tiptoed out of the room. If she’d been afraid of waking her bruders, that thought evaporated when she slipped through the living room. They were all snoring loudly.
Once in the kitchen, she pulled the pocket door closed, turned the switch on the battery lantern Daniel kept on the counter and set about making herself a cup of tea. Filling the kettle with water, setting it on the stove, putting the tea bag into a mug—all of those things were such normal, ordinary things to do that they calmed her nerves and quieted her thoughts. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she’d eaten very little at dinner. She foraged through the pantry and came away with a container full of oatmeal bites. She inhaled deeply of her best friend’s baking—no one made oatmeal cookies like Liza, and the miniature ones were the absolute best. Just last week, Becca had joked that they were tiny bites of goodness, sprinkled with sugar.
She stood there in the pantry, holding the container, smelling their goodness and letting the trauma of the past twenty-four hours slip off her shoulders. Of course, it was at that moment that Daniel appeared.
“They taste even better than they smell.”
“Oh! You scared a year off my life.”
Instead of answering that, he reached around her, plucked a cookie from the container and popped it in his mouth.
“Water’s still hot if you’d like some tea.”
Which was how they found themselves huddled on the far side of the table, the lantern turned to low, eating cookies late at night.
* * *
Daniel kept thinking about how he felt when he’d put his arms around Becca. He’d experienced an overwhelming sense of having finally come home, as if after a long and tedious journey he’d found where he belonged. Could holding a person represent so much?
It had been so hard to watch her struggle all day, harder even than watching the fire devour her family’s home. As far as opening his house to her family, how could he not?
They’d welcomed him when they knew nothing about him.
They’d taken care of him when he was sick.
And the entire community had helped to rebuild his home.
He liked to think he would have made the same offer to anyone in need, but he was honest enough with himself to realize that Becca had claimed a special place in his heart. He thought maybe she felt the same way about him.
But would she if she knew the truth?
If she knew who he really was, would she still care for him? He wasn’t willing to risk it. Not yet, anyway. Maybe in a year or two, when she had a chance to know him better.
“You’re awfully quiet.” She studied him over the top of her mug.
“Can’t gather my thoughts with the sounds of three trains in my living room.”
“Ya, my bruders snore quite loud. Are you having regrets about inviting us here?”
“Not at all.” He reached for another cookie, allowed his hand to brush against hers, and looked up to see her blushing in the glow of the lamplight.
“How are you holding up...really?”
“My mind won’t stop spinning.”
“I can imagine.”
“I keep seeing the smoke, and then it’s as if I re-experience the fear that my family might be inside the burning house. My heart starts racing and my palms start sweating...” She shook her head. “I sound crazy.”
“Not at all. You’ve been through quite a trauma, Becca. Give yourself some time to process all that has happened.”
“I was so scared.”
“Scared is what praying’s for.”
She’d been staring at the table, but at his words, her head popped up. “I thought praying only when you’re in need was...you know...bad.”
“Is that the only time you pray?”
“Nein.”
He studied the cookie he’d retrieved, then pushed it across the table to her. She picked it up and nibbled around the edges.
“I don’t think Gotte minds that we cry out to him when we’re afraid. Didn’t Job do the same thing? And Jonas? And Abraham? You’re in gut company if you pray when you’re scared.”
“When did you get so wise?”
“Didn’t say I was.”
“It’s because of all those things you jot down in your journal.”
“Notebook.”
“Whatever.”
Daniel sat back, feeling on more solid ground when they were teasing one another. “I know I probably don’t know what I think I do...”
“You lost me.”
“Well, all that stuff I write...it makes sense to me when I jot it down, but it doesn’t mean that I’m wise or anything. Only that...” He shook his head, unwilling or unable to go on. He wasn’t sure which.
“Only that what, Daniel?” She leaned closer, stared up into his eyes, and Daniel fell a little bit further in love.
“Um, only that...” What had they been talking about? His notebook and truth and life. “Only that it seems some of it you can learn that way, by paying attention, I mean.”
“Hmm.” Becca sat back and sipped her nearly cold tea. “I guess. Life is hard.”
“That it is.”
“I thought it was hard before, when we were poor. Now we’re homeless and poor, so you know... I realize life wasn’t so hard yesterday.”
“The bishop is already scheduling a workday to rebuild.”
“I know he is, and I know I’m lucky to be Amish. If I was Englisch, I’d have to wait for an insurance check, then a contractor...” She gave a mock shudder.
“How do you know so much about Englisch ways?”
“Look around you. Half our neighbors are Englisch. Half the boxes of stuff people brought today are from the Englisch. They’re gut people, only different in the way they choose to live their lives.”
“I guess.” He turned his mug left, then right, thinking of his bruder. Finally he raised his eyes to hers. “Have you ever thought of leaving...”
“Shipshe?”
“Nein. Our faith. Have you ever thought of not being Amish?”
“Maybe once, when I was a youngie. Younger than Georgia is now. When I was nine years old I’d read this book about a girl who was an Olympic gymnast, and I thought that would be an awesome thing to become.”
“A gymnast?”
“Don’t look at me that way. I could do a mean cartwheel.” She stared across the room, no doubt seeing another place and another time. “I asked Mamm about it, and she explained that Amish don’t seek recognition on a world stage. She reminded me that we strive to be humble and set apart.”
“And how did the nine-year-old Becca respond to that?”
“I took my school bag, stuffed my extra dress, kapp and pillow in it, and trudged off down the road.”
“You didn’t.” Yet somehow he could picture this. Apparently, she’d been full of spunk even then.
“I did. Made it to the mailbox, took a left, then another right, and then suddenly I was lost.”
“You hadn’t gone far?”
“Nein. Only over to where Abigail is now, but it seemed farther. I was so afraid and I sat down on this rock. I sat down and hoped someone I knew would walk by.”
“And d
id they?”
“Ya. My onkel Jeremiah. He asked me what I was doing, I told him that I was running away to be an Olympic gymnast, and he said maybe I should go home for dinner, then start out early the next day.”
“Smart guy.”
“Exactly. By the time he’d walked me home, I was so happy to see our house that I ran into my mamm’s arms and told her I’d missed her.” Becca closed her right hand into a fist, rubbed it against her heart. “Mamm told me years later that I’d only been gone an hour, that she thought I was out playing in the barn.”
“That’s a gut story.”
“I think that’s when I understood what home meant—that it was a safe place with people who love me.” She laughed, a soft delicate sound. “It was the only time I thought I might like to not be Amish. This life is what I know, and it’s who I am. Does that make sense?”
“It does to me.”
She’d leaned forward, and Daniel could no more have stopped himself than he could have stopped water flowing from the sea. He pushed their cups out of the way, framed her face in his hands and brought his lips gently to hers.
He kissed her once, and then again.
With her eyes closed, she put her hands on top of his, and Daniel almost groaned. Wait a year to tell her how he felt? How was he going to be able to do that? He wanted to ask Becca to marry him now. He wanted to bare his soul, explain his past, beg her forgiveness for all the half-truths he’d told.
Becca squeezed his hands, stood and whispered good-night.
Leaving Daniel sitting in his own kitchen, wondering how his world had managed to turn into something that he didn’t even recognize.
Chapter Twelve
Daniel could barely understand what had happened to his barn or buggy or home.
All that he owned had been taken over by Christmas elves—mainly in the persons of Hannah and Isabelle, though he suspected they had help. Holly sprigs decorated every windowsill, as did small battery-operated candles. Red berries that the boys had found along the Pumpkinvine Trail adorned the fireplace hearth and the center of the kitchen table.
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