by Amy Clipston
It was time to be brave, to approach Ben and tell him she was sorry about what had happened between them. Maybe she couldn’t get their relationship back to what it had been, but she didn’t want this rift, this distance between them.
As much as she fought it, Ben mattered to her. Each day that passed made her miss him more. She missed talking with him, missed him listening to her with that quiet, intense way of his. Missed doing things with him and being with him and seeing the way he showed what a big, generous heart he had every time he was around her family or his.
She hadn’t appreciated what she had when she had it, she thought. It was as simple as that.
“You’re looking lieblich tonight,” Jacob said, his voice low and intimate in her ear. “That color is very pretty on you. Brings out the green in your eyes.”
Rebecca stared down at her dark green frack, then up into his eyes. There was frank interest in them. But while it was flattering to have him tell her she looked lovely, she noticed that he was looking around the room, assessing not just her but other females there as if he were in a candy store.
“Why don’t I get us something to drink?”
When she nodded agreement, he sauntered off.
Ben wanted to marry her. She knew what kind of husband he’d be, since they’d spent so much time together. And she knew he had the qualities to make someone a good mann. Other young women might not mind that he didn’t have the right words, and maybe she wouldn’t have minded either. She’d just needed more than to be told they’d “suit.”
It wasn’t often that Rebecca acted on the spur of the moment, but the last time she had, when she’d asked Ben to a picnic, well, that had turned out well, hadn’t it?
She found her steps carrying her across the room to Ben. As if he were attuned to her thoughts, Ben looked up and saw her. He started walking toward her.
“Rebecca? Rebecca?”
Blinking, she stopped. Jacob stood before her, holding out her soft drink.
“Where were you going?” he asked.
And then he saw Ben.
“She’s with me,” Jacob said bluntly, even a little belligerently.
“Rebecca says who she’s with,” Ben told him in his quiet voice. “No one owns her.”
“Ya, you had your chance.” Jacob moved possessively, positioning himself to block off Ben.
Rebecca held up her hand. “Jacob, I just need to talk to Ben for a moment.”
Jacob glowered at Ben for a long moment, then he nodded and walked off.
The moment he was gone, Rebecca and Ben turned to each other.
“I—”
“I—”
They stopped and laughed.
“Ladies first,” said Ben.
“I’m sorry for what happened between us,” she began.
“Me too,” he said, moving closer. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it. Could we maybe go for a ride?”
Rebecca glanced around. “I should tell Jacob—” She broke off.
Mary Ann was standing with a group of her friends, showing them what looked to Rebecca like a small card in her hand.
“What is it?” Ben asked her.
There was a buzz of conversation, and several people looked over at Rebecca. Mary Ann was walking toward her, a gleam in her eyes.
“Is this why he hangs around with you?” she asked Rebecca, holding out the card. “Does he feel sorry for you because you’ve got . . . emotional problems?”
Rebecca stared at it blankly for a moment. It was one of Dr. Prato’s business cards. “What’s this about?” she asked, lifting her eyes. “Where did you get this?”
“Why don’t you ask Ben? I found it in his buggy.” With that, Mary Ann strolled back to her friends.
Feeling as if someone had pulled the rug out from under her feet, Rebecca looked at Ben. “I don’t understand. Ben? What was this doing in your buggy?”
“I can explain.”
She looked around and saw that Mary Ann and her friends were staring at them. “Did you go talk to Dr. Prato about me?”
“I talked to her, but she didn’t tell me anything confidential.”
Rebecca shook her head. This was like a nightmare. “And you shared it with Mary Anne?”
“No. You heard her. She found the card in my buggy. I guess I dropped it. She must have figured one of us went to visit the doctor and decided it was you.”
“Lucky guess.” Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest. “And now she’s really enjoying herself, isn’t she?” she said as she watched the other woman talking with her friends.
“I’ll go talk to her.”
“No.” She put a hand on his arm to stop him. “I will.”
She marched over to Mary Ann, and all talk stopped.
“I’m not ashamed of going to see Dr. Prato. I don’t have ‘emotional problems.’ But even if I did, I’d be proud of myself for going to someone to help myself. I hope that you never go through what I went through,” she said in a steady voice. “I didn’t want to live after Lizzie died. Dr. Prato helped me through my grief.”
“You should have gone to God about it,” Mary Ann told her in a superior tone.
“‘Judge not, that ye not be judged,’” Rebecca replied. With that, she turned and walked away.
“Rebecca!” Marian caught up with her. “What’s going on?”
“Mary Anne’s just trying to cause trouble.”
“How? Why?”
People were still staring.
“I don’t want to talk about it now.”
“Do you want to go home? We can go home.”
Rebecca shook her head. “I don’t want to spoil your time.”
“I can take you home,” Ben said quietly from behind her. “Please let me.”
“No. I don’t want to talk to you now,” Rebecca told him without looking at him.
“Fine. Then I’m coming over tomorrow, after I finish work.”
Rebecca turned to tell him not to, but he was already striding away.
CHAPTER 12
Rebecca laced up her ice skates and stood.
There was no voice this time urging her not to be afraid. Maybe that was because she was facing her fears. At least, facing one of them.
It had taken her five years.
She wobbled, and her arms shot out and flapped as she fought for balance. Finally, relieved that she wasn’t going to fall on her bottom, she cautiously pushed out onto the ice. She wobbled again for a moment and then, to her utter amazement, it came back to her—the balance, then the miracle of skimming along on the ice, free as a bird.
It was so quiet here, just the scrape of ice beneath her feet, the cold wind against her cheeks. Freedom, such freedom. A sense of being outside herself, of doing what she couldn’t do when she was walking on the ground.
She stayed in the area where everyone skated, mindful of the fact that it was late in the season. There was no way she would risk what had happened to Lizzie.
She’d gotten home early that afternoon and felt restless. She knew Ben was coming and they’d have to talk. But she couldn’t sit still.
So she’d started out for a walk and then turned back, impulsively running upstairs to get her skates.
Around and around the pond she skated; then, after a time, she experimented with a small twirl, a jump, a backward circle. Oh, it was nothing compared to the way she had skated before, but the joy was there. The joy was there.
She’d seen an ice skating movie once, during her rumschpringe, with Lizzie and other girls at a nearby theater. Of course, Rebecca was the first to admit that she was in no way as good as the skaters in the movie, not back then and certainly not now since she was out of practice. But she’d always enjoyed it and spent every free moment on the ice on the pond in the winter, so she became more skilled than the others.
Not that she drew any pride from it. Hochmut was sinful. She simply skated because of how calm, how free it made her feel. All else faded away.
A
little out of breath, she skated over to the edge of the pond and sat down on a log someone had put there. Maybe she’d take a rest and then skate just a little more before heading home. She’d promised Ben she’d talk to him after work. No doubt he’d come find her if she wasn’t there.
“Rebecca!”
Looking up from lacing her skates, she saw that Lizzie was already streaking across the ice. It was just Lizzie’s way—it wasn’t that there was a competition and she wanted to be first. She simply couldn’t wait for anyone else when she was ready to dive into her next adventure.
Lizzie wasn’t as good a skater as Rebecca. She was enthusiastic, but she wasn’t willing to practice. If it didn’t come easily and wasn’t enough fun, Lizzie moved on to something else.
As Rebecca stepped onto the ice, she watched her sister zoom by.
“About time, slowpoke!” Lizzie called, laughing as she executed a sloppy twirl.
There were two other skaters on the pond, boys she and Lizzie had gone to school with. While Rebecca skated by herself, Lizzie and the others played tag and generally whooped it up.
Rebecca felt her skate boot wobble and skated over to the log to retie her laces.
“Hi.”
Looking up, Rebecca saw Ben. “Hi. What are you doing here? You don’t have any skates.”
He shrugged. “I was on my way home. Thought I’d stop and watch for a few minutes.” He gazed out at the ice. “Lizzie’s sure having fun.”
Rebecca felt herself withdraw. Yes, people usually noticed Lizzie with her vibrant personality. Bending, she retied her skate.
“You looked like you were enjoying yourself out there,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone skate as well as you.”
“You should have seen the movie Lizzie and I saw. The skaters were amazing.” She remembered the costumes the skaters had worn. They were short and colorful and so formfitting, like nothing she’d ever imagined. Looking down at her own long dress, she wondered how it would feel to move without the restriction of a long skirt.
There was loud laughter out on the ice. Rebecca looked up to see that the two boys and Lizzie had joined hands and were doing the whip, with Lizzie at the end. Faster and faster they skated, and Lizzie was laughing, her skirts flowing out behind her.
“Faster!” she shrieked. “Faster, faster!”
Then she lost her grip, and she was hurtling toward the farthest edge of the pond. Her shriek was cut off as her foot must have hit a rough patch and she went sprawling.
And then they heard it—an awful crack! and the splash of water as Lizzie vanished from sight.
Ben was the first to move, running and slipping toward the hole in the ice. Rebecca jumped to her feet and raced over on her skates.
“Get back!” Ben cried as he stopped near the edge of the hole. “It’s not safe!”
“Lizzie!” Rebecca screamed. “Lizzie!”
Ben lay down on his stomach and edged toward the hole. Turning his head, he called to the boys to hold his legs as he inched forward, calling Lizzie’s name.
Lizzie popped to the surface, gasping, and Ben grasped one arm, then the other, and dragged her toward him. But she slipped from his grasp once, twice, before he was able to grab the neck of her dress and pull her toward him.
Rebecca and the boys inched back and back until Lizzie had been pulled from the water and they were all safely away from the edge of the hole. Then one of the boys ran for help.
Her face was so white, her body so still. Rebecca felt for a pulse. “She’s not breathing!”
Ben pushed Rebecca aside and turned Lizzie to her side, pressing on her back. Water flowed from Lizzie’s mouth, but her chest didn’t move. He began pushing on her chest and then breathing into her mouth. Rebecca had never seen anyone do such.
“Breathe, Lizzie!” she cried hoarsely. “Please, God, make her breathe!”
A siren blared down the road, getting louder and louder as it approached. An ambulance screeched to a halt, and men came running.
Tears ran down Rebecca’s cheeks as she remembered that day.
“Oh, Lizzie, I miss you so much.”
She wiped her tears away from her cheeks with her hands. Looking upward, she shook her head. “Mamm always said you’d get to heaven first if you weren’t more careful.”
There was a splash of color on the bank of the pond near her, a purple crocus struggling up through the snow. It was a tiny reminder that spring was coming. Reaching over, she plucked it up.
Rising, she skated over to the center of the pond. “‘To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven,’” she recited. “‘A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted’ . . . and a time to heal. Good-bye, Lizzie,” she whispered, and she threw the flower over to the place where Lizzie had fallen through the ice.
She heard something behind her. Turning, she saw a buggy pull to the side of the road and a man get out, waving his arms frantically. Frowning, she squinted to see better.
It was Ben.
What was she doing?
Ben couldn’t believe his eyes as he drove his buggy down the road to the Millers’ house. That was Rebecca, skating out in the middle of the pond.
Didn’t she know that no one had skated there since last week, that the pond was showing signs of an early thaw? A sign had been posted, but he didn’t see it now.
As soon as he could get his horse to stop, he jumped from the buggy and began yelling and waving his arms. She must have heard him because she turned.
He didn’t hear the car coming until he heard the screech of brakes. Turning, he saw the driver fighting for control as the car slid on the thin ice covering the road. Ben threw himself toward the side of the road, but he felt the bumper hit his hip and toss him high in the air. His breath rushed out as he slammed down in the snow and his head hit something hard.
He woke. His head hurt, and someone was screaming his name.
Rebecca came into view and knelt by his side. She was praying as she put her hands on his face.
He reached up his hand and touched her cheek. “I’m okay.” To prove it, he tried to sit up, but he fell back and passed out.
The driver of the car, a middle-aged woman, came running over with a blanket to cover Ben.
“I called 911 on my cell phone. They’ll be here any minute.” She wrung her hands. “He ran right in front of my car. I tried to stop, but the car slid on the road.”
“I know. I saw.” Rebecca took the blanket and tucked it around Ben. She didn’t know how much good it was going to do. He was lying in the snow.
The woman looked up and down the road. “Why aren’t they here yet?” She wrung her hands as she turned to Rebecca. “What else can we do?”
“There’s another blanket in the buggy.”
The woman ran for it, then glanced at Rebecca’s feet. “You’re wearing skates,” she said. “I’ll go get your shoes.”
Rebecca put the second blanket on Ben and tried not to think about how the wait for the ambulance for him felt even longer than the one for Lizzie had. She busied herself with unlacing her skates and pulling on her boots.
As she waited, Rebecca wondered why Ben had been making such a commotion, yelling and waving his arms at her instead of walking to the pond to talk to her. It wasn’t like him.
She was so absorbed in watching for the faintest movement from him, a flicker of his eyes opening or his hand stirring under hers, that she didn’t realize at first that the woman had knelt in the snow beside her. “What is it?”
“I’m so sorry . . .”
Rebecca patted her hand. “I saw what happened. I don’t know why Ben didn’t watch what he was doing.”
“You know him?”
Nodding, Rebecca touched his face with hands that shook. His face was so cold.
The woman gave her an impulsive hug. “This must be so hard for you. Thank you for not blaming me.”
Rebecca t
ook a deep breath, lifted her shoulders, then let them fall. “It wasn’t your fault. But even if it had been, it’s not our way.”
The police and paramedics arrived, and within minutes Ben was carefully loaded up into the ambulance and Rebecca was allowed to climb in with him for the ride to the hospital. They seemed to assume she was his wife, and she didn’t bother to tell them any different.
After all, if she hadn’t been such an idiot, she’d be engaged to him by now.
At the hospital she was separated from him. She filled out the paperwork as best as she could and went to sit in the waiting room.
She felt so guilty. This was what she got for not being afraid and skating, she thought. Ben had been driving to her house to talk to her, and he’d seen her and become upset enough to walk into the path of the car.
The antiseptic smell of the hospital was bringing back awful memories. To distract herself, Rebecca looked at the program on the television. A man was reading some news stories, and then there was a woman standing before an animated map of the state. She talked about spring coming early.
Engulfed in worry and guilt over Ben, Rebecca realized why Ben might have been creating a commotion—had he worried that the ice wasn’t frozen enough to skate on?
Samuel and Emma came rushing in at that moment, looking frantic, and a nurse took them back to Ben. They are family and I’m not, Rebecca thought, sinking down into her chair. If things had gone differently, she would have been regarded as family; she would be able to go see him.
All she could do now was sit here and think the worst. No, she told herself. That was not all she could do. She could pray. Bending her head, she asked God to please heal Ben, to make him well.
When she opened her eyes, Emma was taking a seat next to her. “He hasn’t regained consciousness yet. They’re doing some tests.” She traced the rose design on the wooden cane in her hands. “Ben made it for me. Rose is my middle name.” Tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her cheeks.
Ben had made a thing of beauty out of a simple piece of wood to help ease her steps, Rebecca thought. He didn’t always have the words. But it was obvious that he had the heart.