by Amy Clipston
“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 8
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 s
mile.
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.
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. Everything 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?”