by Miranda Rush
“Naw, it’s just ‘Nick.’ Mr. Collins is my father.” He then favored her with a huge grin and was gone.
Chapter 5
Five a.m. The sun, not up for another hour, was already brightening the sky. Since talking with Nick yesterday, she had experienced a shift in mood, causing an easy smile to return to her face. The thought of seeing him today made a hum play on her breath as she stoked the fire in the special small kitchen that was set aside only for cooking and baking. Then she milked the cow in the soft grayness of the barn, and set about making breakfast in another kitchen which was set aside for meal preparation. Her hands flew through her tasks as she crooned a beloved hymn, hushed but melodic.
Weekday breakfasts were simple fare: homemade biscuits and gravy, sausage, oatmeal and fresh milk from the cow. Later, Hannah would churn butter and their mother would make baking soda cheese from the clabbered milk.
Rebekah bowed her head in silent prayer said before and after the meal with the rest of her family, thanking God for the food, her family, and good people in her life. She did not think of Ezekiel or include him in this prayer. Instead, for the first time since her father ordered her to marry him, she wasn’t thinking of him at all. The burdensome lead which had been in her limbs only yesterday had vanished.
Nick arrived promptly at seven. Rebekah pinned her bonnet in place and placed cash and a list of needed items securely into the pocket of her dress, securing her pocket shut with a safety pin. Buttons were not allowed in Amish culture. Buttons were a sign of vanity and were not plain. The same pins fastened her dress which was uniform to every other female’s clothing in the community, including the infants. The only variation was in color, although they were all somber tones. Her dress today was dark blue, which, unbeknownst to her, deepened the violet of her eyes, making them even more exquisite.
Because she was going into town, she was allowed to wear shoes in the warm weather. She laced up her boots tightly; black boots in the plain style worn by every other Amish female.
Nick beamed at her and opened the door of the Chevy van, placing her in the front passenger seat. “Good morning!” His tone was congenial.
Rebekah responded in kind, giving him a cheery “Good morning,” and a smile.
“Where all do you need to stop at?”
She needed to stop at three places for store restocking supplies and two stops for her father. She was listing the stops as they pulled up to Leah’s home. Leah was already waiting on the large porch, with her own list and cash pinned in her pocket. However, it would not have mattered if Leah had no agenda for the day of her own. Amish women did not travel alone, especially with men who were not family members.
Upon stopping, Nick got out of the van to open the door for the pregnant woman and offered his hand to help her into the van. Leah disregarded his outstretched hand and lifted her heavy frame into the vehicle. English men did not understand that such touch is verboten, or forbidden. Leah observed the English’s ignorance, but Rebekah’s view was different and she might not have noticed it before her engagement to Ezekiel. She saw Nick’s thoughtfulness. Ezekiel would not have offered his hand. She did not consciously make the comparison between the two men, yet the perception struck her.
As would normally occur, the two women spoke with each other in Pennsylvania Dutch for a while regarding Leah’s recent visit to her midwife. The baby was strong, the midwife had said, and Leah was in excellent health. Then the talk turned to names selected, something fathers decide.
“Hezekiah desires his son to be named Eli.”
“That is a strong name for a boy,” Rebekah granted. “It is a name full of history. And if the baby is a girl . . .?”
“Hezekiah says it will not be a girl,” was Leah’s simple reply.
Rebekah felt a pinch of longing. Leah had such an easy acceptance for everything. She found herself once again wishing to be Leah and have . . . and have . . . and suddenly Rebekah had an intimation of what she found so desperately lacking in Ezekiel. She still had no name for it but felt that same pinch every time she saw Leah’s eyes light up when she spoke about her husband. I know talking about Ezekiel will never make my eyes shine like Leah’s. She turned aside, crestfallen.
Sensing her sister’s sudden melancholy, Leah started singing, reaching out her hand to Rebekah, gesturing her to sing along. To please Leah, Rebekah complied. It was an old song about finding joy in the Lord, and although Rebekah did not feel joyful, she sang with steady resolve.
“Wow! You have a beautiful voice! What are you singing?” Both women turned to face Nick.
“It is a church song.”
“It is wonderful. You have an amazing voice!” The last statement was directed at Rebekah.
She had never been handed a compliment. It never occurred to her what to do with one. “I sing as well as any other,” she protested, blushing once again. Rebekah tried to control her embarrassment, but the harder she tried, the worse it became.
Nick’s voice became softer, “No. Not like anyone else.”
Her flush intensified, and although it was uncomfortable, it was also quite pleasurable. Ignoring his statement, however, was the safest course of action.
“Do you sing?”
“Not without getting smacked. I sound terrible.”
Rebekah giggled at this, and that got Nick to laughing as well.
“But I love music. I can tell you just adore it, too. Every time I come in the store you are singing or humming.”
Rebekah warmed under his notice. Then he sent her a volley of questions: Did she have any brothers? Was it hard to be separated from her older sister? What was it like to have her father be an Elder in the Community? What did she do for fun?
“We play volleyball, softball, and visit family. I love to read and we all just love ice cream.” Her eyes were drawn to his, soft and bright deep pools of brown.
“What are you interested in?” she asked.
“Right now I’m learning karate.”
“What’s that?”
“Ancient Japanese fighting.”
“I hadn’t figured you for someone with a temper.”
He laughed. “It’s really more about self-control than fighting.” He saw her trying to digest this and said with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I’m sure you’ve seen some people who need self-control.”
The only person she could think of was Jakob, Ezekiel’s eldest son. That made her think of Ezekiel again and she shuddered inwardly, thinking that soon she would be living with Ezekiel and Jakob under the same roof. She decided to change the subject. “Tell me about your family.”
“I have one sister who lives in California, and my father lives here in Missouri.”
“Only one sister?”
“Yes.”
“Why California?” It seemed so far away. “Is she staying with family?”
“No. No family. She’s trying to get a music career going. She’s an incredible singer, like you.”
Rebekah blushed.
“It must be hard for her to be alone without family,” she said to keep the subject off his lavish compliments.
“Sometimes, yeah. Maybe. She’s pretty independent. She’s had to be.”
“Why?” In Amish Communities everyone was dependent on everyone else.
“Our mom died when she was ten. I was eight.”
“I am so sorry.”
His tone became somber. “It was tough. Our dad raised us. Mostly we had to raise ourselves because he was a truck driver and was gone for long periods of time. Looking back, I’m surprised the state didn’t come and take us away. It’s probably because we never really got into much trouble.”
The idea that ‘the state’ or English law could take children away from their parents was new to Rebekah. English law had terrible power; it was one of the reasons Amish avoided it wherever possible, to the point of not getting social security numbers. It was a horrible concept, about as bad as the idea of a single woman moving awa
y from her family to advance her work. It just made no sense.
She didn’t know quite what to say. What came out of her mouth, she wasn’t planning on. “What did your mother die of?”
“Breast cancer. It was rough. Most of my memories are of her being sick, although I remember helping her in her garden when I was real little.”
“You like to garden?”
“Love to. Don’t have the time anymore. Seems I work all the time. I take care of my dad some. He got hurt on the job a while back and his disability check doesn’t meet all his expenses, so I help out where I can.”
Rebekah nodded. This is what an Amish son would do. She was a little surprised, but pleased to find that an English would have the same values.
“So are you married?” she asked boldly. A half second later, her brazenness made her flush again brightly. Good grief, Rebekah, shut up!
“I was.”
“What happened?”
“She . . . died.”
She gaped at him. She gauged him to be in his mid-twenties, certainty too young to have had such sorrow in his life.
Again, she fell at a loss for words. He continued, keeping his eyes on the road. “We got married really young, just out of high school. Then my dad got hurt at work and needed my help so I began working two jobs and wasn’t home much and I never even saw it happening.
“Turned out Jenna had gotten into drugs. Use to shoot up between her toes so I wouldn’t see the bruises. I knew something was wrong but . . .” His voice cracked and he took a deep breath before continuing. “It was an overdose. I came home one night to find her dead, lying on the bed, the needle still stuck in her foot. It took me a long time to recover from that.”
Rebekah blanched. Even though she didn’t understand all of his words, she understood enough. The world of the English was treacherous . . . and so very sad. She looked at the strain lining Nick’s face as he spoke. She ached for him.
“You’re very easy to talk to,” said Nick.
Another compliment. She murmured thanks and ventured, “You loved her very much.”
“Yes. She was a lot like you. A free spirit.”
I’m a free spirit? She was dumbfounded. Oh no, I’m not!
She sought to change the subject. “So, do you have a girlfriend?” Another brash question! Her inner Amish perfectionist was scolding her once again. She seemed to have absolutely no control over her mouth.
He shook his head emphatically. “Haven’t been looking for one.”
She stole a glance back at her sister who had fallen silent in the second seat of the van. Leah, exhausted with her pregnancy, was now asleep with her head against the tinted window. Rebekah was relieved that her sister hadn’t heard her being so free with Nick.
Nick peered in his rearview mirror at the sleeping woman. The timbre of his voice changed, becoming deeper. “So, do you have a boyfriend?”
Before she could stop herself, Rebekah shook her head. Boyfriend? Dismayed, she considered Ezekiel. She could not lie. For some reason, she wanted to be completely honest with this English, open in a way she was only with Leah. She looked around to study Leah and found her snoring peacefully.
“Not one that I like,” she admitted. This is wrong. It was a bold statement, an intimate statement. Such a confidence told to one not close family or friend was a sin. Feeling this way is a sin.
Nick’s eyes shot wide. “You mean you have one you don’t like?” Even though he was driving and his attention had to be on the road, when he peered over at her, she felt him look into her. This is wrong. But, she couldn’t help loving the intensity in his eyes. It made her nerves prickle, and the heat she had experienced before seep into her veins. She could feel her own heartbeat executing summersaults inside her chest. It was a foreign sensation, but an enticing one. It made her want to reveal everything. But she didn’t dare.
Abruptly she changed the subject.
“We are going to a wedding of my cousin in Wisconsin next week.”
He wouldn’t let it drop. “So, does your cousin like her fiancé?”
Rebekah hesitated. I should feel violated. He has no right to ask such questions. But she didn’t feel violated at all. Instead, there was the thrill of sharing something not meant to be shared. Besides, she reasoned, she had brought up the topic herself. Still, she hesitated a moment. I should just say ‘yes’ or ‘of course’. But he isn’t really asking about my cousin, now, is he?
“Liking someone is not necessary for an Amish marriage,” she said, inwardly cringing. Oh God, please don’t let him ask me about Ezekiel. Or was it, please, please ask me?
“And what if they don’t like each other when they are married?”
“This is no divorce for the Amish.” Her voice became a whisper again as her thoughts returned to the lonely years before her with Ezekiel as her husband.
Nick observed her silently for a moment, then asked her about her family in Wisconsin: who she was to see, was she looking forward to going, would her oldest sister be there at the wedding, too?
By the time they got to St. Joseph, they were chattering amicably away again. Then, he stunned her.
“Can Amish and non-Amish ever date?” His eyes, now slightly rakish, assessed her.
She was shocked. Two thoughts at once assailed her. Is he asking me on a date? And he sees me, what I am like inside. Was it possible? She could hear a flicker of hope in his voice.
“Never.” She barely suppressed a tremor.
That’s too bad. He didn’t say it, but Rebekah could read it on his face. Was that . . . disappointment? She shook her head in disbelief. It couldn’t be. Because if he were disappointed, then he, well, he liked her and such a thing was unthinkable. She knew she was on a dangerous path but not only did she not know how to turn around, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
***
In St. Joseph Nick patiently took the women to each destination, following them into the stores while they shopped and carrying out their packages to the van. Rebekah walked up and down the aisles of each store with her sister and tried to concentrate on the matters of business at hand: finding the best bargains to be had, negotiating for bent and dented cans, scanning the rows for some great find that could be sold at a good profit. Rebekah looked several times to where Nick was quietly waiting. Each and every time, his eyes would be following her, captivated, and she would flush deeply.
Leah noticed as well and started to laugh. “That English seems taken with you.”
“Maybe a little.”
“Quite.” Again, she laughed. Rebekah laughed with her and they both looked over at Nick, who smiled back, while not getting the joke.
Upon the completion of their errands, Leah suggested they stop for lunch. Nick good naturedly said something about Leah eating for two and asked where the ladies would like to eat. They settled on a fast food favorite of Leah’s and Nick accompanied them inside.
“Let this be my treat,” he suggested. Leah graciously accepted on behalf of both of them. Then, to the women’s slight surprise, he joined them at their table but he seemed unaware of anything but Rebekah giving him a cheery look. He returned it and proceeded to chatter away with Rebekah between bites. Leah spoke little, but watched with a semi-amused air.
On the way back home to Jamesport, Nick had to make one last stop at a supermarket. He excused himself, leaving the ladies in the car and returned in short order and handed each of them a small, cold box. Rebekah looked down and read, “New York Super Fudge Chunk.” He then handed her a plastic spoon and offered the same to Leah. Rebekah opened her carton and spooned up an unladylike mouthful. Then, putting it in her mouth, she closed her eyes, allowing the flavor to fill her mouth as it melted down her throat.
“Ben and Jerry’s. Pretty good, huh?” All Rebekah could do was sparkle at him and nod vigorously. It was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.
“Very gud,” Leah’s response came from the seat behind Rebekah. Nick’s eyes twinkled in satisfaction.
Yes, the English knew their ice cream. You had to give them that.
***
Nick dropped Leah off first, again extending his hand to assist her out of the van, and again being respectfully unseen. Unfazed by this, he carried in her packages, wished her well, and returned to the van where Rebekah was waiting. Aware that they were now alone, she quietly scrutinized him, taking in the long, lean strength of him, the slight broodiness of his eyes, the hardness of his perfectly squared jaw and his mouth which forever wanted to settle into a slight smile. She had to admit that not only was he not plain as the Amish strive to be, he was gorgeous. For the first time in her seventeen years, she found herself magnetized by a member of the opposite sex. Having been taught her whole life to disregard any physical beauty, she consciously attempted to resist the waves of attraction that rose up within her.
He stopped the van a quarter mile from her home. Without a word, she watched him put the vehicle in park and turn his body to face her. Instantly, Rebekah was aware of breath catching in her throat. All her perceptions heightened, she was hyper-aware of the clean scent of his skin, the soft intensity of his eyes, and the shine of his curly hair that looked so silky she found herself wanting to reach out to touch it. His hand moved forward and picked up hers. Her first thought was to draw back but, still holding her breath, she acquiesced, loving the feeling of the warm, smooth skin of his fingers curling around hers. His voice was almost hoarse.
“I really enjoyed talking to you today.”
Unable to breathe, she nodded. Yes.
“I want to see you again.”
His meaning was not lost on her. Her hyper-sensitivity increased, and she felt as if she had stepped from a dark room into bright sunshine. His finger stroked the top of her hand, sending a jolt through her.
“Do you want to see me?” His question jarred her into exhaling.
She could only murmur, “Meet me here at midnight.”
He broke into a huge smile. “Midnight. I will see you right here.”
Her breath fluttered. What am I doing? She couldn’t believe she heard herself agree to meet him again, this time alone. As she was reeling from her own daring, her mouth opened once again to stammer. It seemed unconnected to her brain.