Roaring the New Holland to full throttle, he headed back up the driveway. Coming to the barn, he parked inside and walked back out to the fence for one last look at the cattle.
If Emma was watching from the house window, she would be impressed with his concern. If she was not, then these were really his cattle, one way or the other, he figured. He smiled to himself. They really were his, either by the way of his tin can or somehow through the family. Once transferred to the Byler family at Emma’s passing, his mother would see to it that they came to him, he felt certain.
A feeling of contentment and warmth flowed through him, even with the snow falling. Life seemed certain and spelled out now. Poverty was something he would never have to face. Others may fear it, but it would never touch him. He was the relative of a rich Amish woman who was already making him richer than most boys his age, and now his mother was sure to see to it that things got even better. Life was looking real good.
Amish life was the life he wanted—to be, to live, to marry, to have children, and to grow old in the faith.
He stopped as the thought crossed his mind. Wasn’t it about time to think about marrying? Yes, to marry. His pulse quickened. But to whom? Certainly not someone like that Rebecca Keim, he thought. How could Mother even have mentioned such a thing? No, I want someone quite unlike that, someone comfortable, lowly, able to live where I live, without the flash of such a high-class life that Rebecca gives off.
She always had been like that, even in school, always too good for some people. Emma had liked her though. He frowned at the thought, then allowed that even Emma had her faults. At least Emma had been right about someone else Rebecca always hung around with. He searched his mind for a name, but came up with none. Anyway, Emma hadn’t liked the fellow who had often been seen with Rebecca, probably sweet on her. Rumor was he went Mennonite eventually, or at least his parents did.
Still, Luke had never liked him. There was just something about him. Maybe it was the good grades both he and Rebecca were always getting. They had the gall to actually frown when they only achieved a ninety-five percent on a test, something that would have made his own face nearly split with a grin.
Yes, it was surely time that he think about girls and marriage. Girls. He laughed into the snowflakes, blowing one off his nose. Then it suddenly occurred to him what he should do. He was seeing it clearly now.
He was beginning to feel what he had been seeing in Susie Burkholder’s eyes. He even blushed out there in the snow, as he let the thoughts of her drift through his mind. Now that they started, it was hard to stop them, even if he had wanted to. The way her hair stuck out from under her head covering. Her hands, her nails cut short, but never showing signs of being chewed. He liked that in a girl. It showed signs of stability instead of a nervous temperament.
Now, with some money stashed away and a farm coming his way, it was high time to make his move. Surprised at how much he already knew about what he wanted, he let his mind take another good look at Susie. Always before, he had ignored the look in her eyes, but now that he allowed himself to consider it, he saw it all. She wanted him, wanted him badly. That she was a little plain didn’t present much of a problem to him. Her eyes more than made up for it, the way they dropped just after he would finally look at her in the singings or at church.
No doubt she had long wanted me to ask her out. The thought warmed him. Why, yes, he would do it—he would indeed. He would ask her this very week, and by Sunday those eyes would be for him alone. Susie would be beside him in his buggy as he drove her home after the singing.
Shaking the snow from his coat with a shrug of his shoulders, Luke took one last glance at the cattle gathered in front of him and turned to leave.
“You don’t know anything about love or money,” he told them, as if they could understand. “Just chew your cuds and be quiet. I am now ready to take a girl home.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Time to start the pies,” Mattie’s voice echoed up the stairs, startling Rebecca as she had just closed the drawer in her room, the ring now well-hidden.
Knowing that she needed to respond and concerned that her face might betray her, Rebecca opened the door but didn’t show herself. “I’m coming right away,” she said.
A measure of peace was in her heart now. The answers seemed to be coming, and the fear was fading away. “The Lord is helping me,” she whispered.
“We need to start before lunch,” her mother added, softer now that she could see that Rebecca’s bedroom door was open. “Your dad wants some for supper, I’m sure.”
There was silence at the bottom of the stairs after her mother’s soft footsteps faded away on the hardwood floors. Rebecca knew she had only moments more before questions would start, if she did not come down the stairs.
Taking a deep breath, she prayed one last quick prayer. Let this be the right thing, Lord. I don’t want to be making more mistakes than I have already made. And please don’t let me lose John.
A calm came over her, and she thought again that the upcoming trip to Milroy must be God working things out through her mother and her aunt. In Milroy, she could walk the roads and the woods where she had been with Atlee and perhaps discover how to finally let this all go. Perhaps there her memories of first love would find their proper resting place, and she would bring her heart home, whole and new again.
Then she could finally throw the ring away. She could now only remember faintly where he had given it to her. Flashes of summer’s woods went through her mind…sounds of water running…and of a bridge. The Moscow covered bridge, she thought.
Yes, that was it. The Moscow bridge. And then she remembered Atlee’s hand holding it out to her. The ring. The first thing she had noticed about it was how it sparkled. Then she could hear him asking, “You will keep it, won’t you? For me, please? I will come back for it and you…” She suddenly refused to finish the memory. She must get downstairs.
But her mind wouldn’t let it go just yet. She remembered slowly taking the ring from his hand and saying, “Yes.”
Taking another deep breath, she walked out the door and down the stairs to the kitchen. I’ll be okay, she told herself. John loves me, and I love him. Is that not enough?
Her mother already had bowls spread out on the table. Two small ones and a larger one in front of them.
“Can you get the flour?” her mother asked, with a glance at her.
Rebecca nodded, letting what she hoped was a smile play on her face. Walking to the pantry just off of the kitchen, she opened the large bag of flour. A smaller dipping bowl was already in the bag, and so she grasped the edge closest to her and sent the other end plunging deep into the soft flour.
Shaking the now heaping bowl over the bag, she lightly brushed the edges with her hand. A good Amish girl did not spill flour. Her mind still distracted and hoping she wouldn’t spill any flour, Rebecca walked toward the kitchen table, where she would measure it into cup size measurements as it was needed.
“Don’t fill it so full,” her mother said, glancing at the amount she carried in the bowl. “It spills too much on the table.”
Rebecca nodded.
“It’s better to make two trips. With smaller amounts you don’t have to spend so much time being careful,” her mother said. She then added gently with an unspoken question in her voice, “You learned that years ago.”
“I know,” Rebecca said.
“Is something wrong?” her mother asked, catching a full look at Rebecca’s face and placing both hands on her hips. “Is it something between you and John?”
Much as Rebecca had been dreading questions, the start of them was almost a relief. “No,” she responded, feeling herself actually relaxing.
Her mother was silent for awhile, then said, “You and John have been together a lot. Has he talked marriage yet?”
“Yes,” Rebecca told her, not wanting to go further than that. “It has come up.”
“Oh,” her mother smiled and continued,
“that’s good. John’s such a nice boy. A good Amish church member. Family seems solid and all. How long have you two been dating? Time goes by so fast with us old people. It’s probably much longer than I think.”
“Some two years,” Rebecca said. She walked over to the icebox to get the eggs.
“Well, that’s plenty of time! You ought to have figured out by now what you think of him. Maybe even whether you’d want to marry him.” Mattie glanced in Rebecca’s direction. “I know that’s such a big decision. Yet done in the Lord, it is always good.” Mattie reached for the cup to measure the flour, glancing again at Rebecca’s face. “Oh!” she exclaimed with a smile. “Maybe he has asked already.”
Rebecca felt the redness spread across her face.
Her mother needed no words to confirm her suspicions. “That was what the visit to the bridge was all about yesterday. A right romantic fellow, John is. Asking the question the real English way, now did he?”
Rebecca still said nothing. There was no need to. Her mother might as well know, and figuring it out herself was just fine with Rebecca.
Mattie dipped the measuring cup into the flour and then looked at Rebecca. “Your daddy was that way too.” She paused as if in astonishment herself. “I know you would never guess it. He lets on terrible like…” Mattie explained, waving her loose hand, “like there’s nothing to it. But he was. Yes, he was. Stopped the buggy one night right soon after we left the singing. We had been seeing each other for about three years.”
The second cup en route, Mattie paused. “All the other buggies had already broken off. Down other roads. Never thought of it like that, but your daddy had to have it all figured out. We were all by ourselves on one of those open bridges. You could hear the water running underneath us. Right there with his horse barely wanting to stand still, he asked me. Yes, he did,” Mattie pronounced.
“Dad?” Rebecca said, totally surprised. “You say Dad did this?”
“Yes, that’s how it went. He took my hand when I said ‘yes’ and squeezed it real hard, he did.” Mattie quickly glanced up at Rebecca. “Now don’t you be getting any ideas. That’s all he did, mind you. A right proper young man he was. The Lord knows. I wished sometimes, especially in that buggy while riding beside him, that he wasn’t. Yet, in the end I always knew what a good man he was.”
“Yes, I can see that he is,” was all Rebecca could think to say, thoughts of John flashing through her mind.
“John’s right proper too, I suppose. You two are behaving yourselves?” Mattie questioned, looking her full in the face.
“Yes, Mother!” Rebecca answered, a little exasperated. “Dad already asked me that this morning. What do you think I am?”
“You are a good girl,” Mattie allowed. “It’s just that we’re all weak in the flesh. That’s a fact, now. We need to have someone watching over us at times. I thank God we did as well as we did. Our parents were concerned. I wondered sometimes why Mother didn’t ask more questions than she did. It’s such a hard time in life. I suppose that’s why I’m asking now.”
“Yes, it is a hard time,” Rebecca said with emotion, content in knowing her mother wouldn’t fully understand exactly why she thought so.
“It will all come to an end,” Mattie intoned. “Soon enough you are married. Then there’s nothing in the way. It is a right good time, it is. Even after all these years. It was well worth waiting for. Made even sweeter, I think, by the waiting. God must be honored in all His ways. Especially on this thing. It’s too powerful to get wrong.”
“I know,” Rebecca said, cracking a third egg into one of the smaller bowls. “We will do our best. We want to walk in a way that is right and holy.”
“That’s good to hear,” Mattie said. “We must always be on watch. One never knows when the devil might throw something in our way. Trips us right up.”
“That’s for sure,” Rebecca replied, wrinkling her forehead.
“Ah! It’s already hard then,” Mattie replied, sighing at her daughter’s reaction. “You will make it though. God will help you.” Then after a moment’s pause, she admitted, “You had me so worried.” And Mattie poured the last cup of flour into the large bowl.
“I already told you. We are behaving ourselves,” Rebecca responded, irritation in her voice. “Are you ready to have the eggs beaten?”
“Yes,” Mattie said. “It’s not that though. I was talking about something else. It’s when you were going to school in Milroy.”
“To school?” Rebecca managed in what she hoped was a normal voice. A chill was creeping up her spine.
“Ya. That Atlee fellow you used to spend so much time with,” her mother said.
The chill increased. What did she know about Atlee? Did Mother know how much she had liked him? She must have.
“What about Atlee?” Rebecca asked, as casually as possible.
Her mother gave her a strange look and said, “You should know. You were the one always walking home with him from school. It seemed innocent enough, you know. The schoolgirl crush we all have had. You were young though,” she quickly added.
“So why were you worried?” Rebecca asked. She was ready to start beating the eggs but stopped to hear her mother’s response.
“It was always you and Atlee this—you and Atlee that. You were even with him sometimes on Saturdays.” A look of worry crossed Mattie’s face, but she said nothing more except, “Beat those eggs. I need them right away. I’ll start melting the butter.”
Rebecca nodded, laying her shoulder into whipping the eggs. As the racket of metal hitting metal filled the room, the yellow and white mixture quickly blended, and there was no more distinguishing between the two. Her mother, in the meantime, turned on the gas burner on the stove and dropped a bar of butter into the pan. It turned golden brown and slowly spread across the bottom.
With the eggs whipped, Rebecca left the bowl on the kitchen table and switched places with her mother. Mattie dumped the eggs into the flour, stirred them gently, cleared her throat, and jumped back to the unfinished conversation. “I never did worry about that, you know.”
“What did you worry about then?” Rebecca asked.
“After his parents went Mennonite. He didn’t stay on at the school for the rest of the year. I sure hoped you didn’t have your heart too set on him. He was a nice boy and all. But Mennonite. That’s another matter, I would say! I’m just so glad that you are getting a good Amish boy in John Miller.”
“I am too,” Rebecca said truthfully. Not just because he was Amish, but because she knew she loved him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
With a last look at Emma’s house from the end of the driveway, Luke slapped the reins and headed down the road. His horse’s hooves, once they hit the blacktop, made a hollow noise in the snow, muffled and deep.
Money. He breathed the smell of it in deeply, becoming fully aware of the existence of vast quantities of the stuff and what it could mean in relation to himself.
That it should even make a difference in love, he had never supposed possible. Yet, there it was, the realization that now he would get to enjoy Susie as his girlfriend all because he would be sure that money came his way…one way or another.
But it would take more than what was contained in his tin can under the hay bale. Although, he supposed, even his savings would have been sufficient eventually. It just might have taken him longer to get there.
Now though, things were suddenly and swiftly different, possibly coming much sooner than he had imagined. This very Sunday Susie Burkholder might very well be riding beside him after the singing. That look in her eyes would be his to enjoy. He would call her his own—his girl.
This did put things in quite a different light. Maybe money was more important than he had ever supposed. His father said that it wasn’t important, and Luke had always leaned in that direction himself. The advice was, after all, coming from a deacon of the church and his father. Thus it ought to bear quite a bit of weight.
Now tho
ugh, he had seen with his own eyes, felt with his own heart, some of the things that money could do. It had brought the idea of love to him, the love of a girl who wanted him. He was sure he would not have entertained the notion if it were not for the presence of money. Plenty of it, he reminded himself.
Too much money, his father often warned, was dangerous. Well, this must not be too much yet because it was causing good things for him. He let the memory of Susie’s eyes run all the way through him. How would it be to have her beside him in his own buggy? He wasn’t sure, but his mind enjoyed trying to get a firm hold on it.
“Susie,” he said the name softly, as his horse’s hooves hit the blacktop, pounding away in the snow. Why had he never fully noticed how beautiful her name sounded before? That was because of the money too, he reasoned. How strange, he thought, but that was what had happened.
Yet fear pushed at him. If it was money that was responsible for his newfound notions, then maybe money could also take away one’s happiness. Was that not possible? He clutched himself with both arms, nearly jerking on the reins in the process.
He pushed the thought away, afraid it might be true and decided that for now he would have to play it safe. He would take the package to the post office and buy the proper postage. That way, wherever this package was going to, Emma would receive no inquiries as to why it had been opened en route.
I could take it home and let Mother open it. She could get it back together without anyone being able to tell. Startled at the thought, he considered this for a moment. That would be a way to cover both of his bases, and he might come out the best in the end.
Just when he was at the point of turning east on 900 instead of west toward Milroy, he remembered Emma. Could he really betray her trust? Was it fair after all she had done for him? After she was responsible for his little savings account in the haymow?
No, he would not betray her. Tomorrow he would need to go back to work for her, and with this on his conscience, it would just be too hard. No, Mother would have to find some other way around this problem. I will not open the envelope or take it to Mother.
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