Changing into her traveling clothes, Rebecca brought her suitcase downstairs and set it by the front door. Mattie had prepared a plate of food for her in the kitchen and waited silently as Rebecca bowed her head in prayer.
“So how am I coming back?” Rebecca quickly asked, as she began eating.
“First we’ll have to see when the baby comes,” Mattie said. “After that, maybe there’ll be another load coming back.”
“And if not?” Rebecca asked, her fork cutting into an egg.
“You can always use the Greyhound.”
“Does Leona know that I’m coming?”
“I mailed her a letter on Monday morning. I’m sure she was expecting that you would come. She knows me. Figures I would send you, I expect.”
Rebecca lifted the last of the egg to her mouth, adding a bit of toast. “I’m going to walk across to Edna’s now,” she announced.
“They’ll pick you up here, I’m sure; if you’ll wait.”
“No. The suitcase isn’t too heavy. I’ll just walk.” She rose from the table, adding, “Early mornings are such a beautiful time of the day. I’d enjoy the walk over.”
“That they are,” her mother agreed. “Clear your dishes before you leave though. Matthew and Lester ought to be in soon.”
Picking up her plate and silverware, Rebecca deposited them by the sink.
Across the room, her mother opened the oven where she had been keeping the eggs. She took them out and set the plate on the table. There they sat in their pale yellow glory. Rebecca enjoyed the warmth of the kitchen and the good breakfast smells as she brushed past, leaving the washcloth in the sink. This is home, she thought as the emotions wrapped themselves around her.
“I’ll see you, then,” she said, forcing herself to go into the living room to get her suitcase and head for the front door.
“Have a good trip,” her mother replied, following her to give her a hug. “Tell Leona hello for all of us.”
“I will,” she said, releasing herself from her mother’s arms. She then opened the door and stepped out into the morning light just appearing on the horizon, the air crisp and clear. It was going to be a beautiful winter day—the snow from the recent storm still on the ground. She hoped it would stay till Christmas, but it was unlikely. A warm spell was sure to come through before that.
The chickens clucked when she went by, a few out in the yard already, their necks bobbing in the dim light. By the time she reached the road, she could see that lights were already on in Edna’s house, and as she approached the house, she heard the sound of the engine. The van was warming up. Just then the dome light came on as the van door slid open.
“Good morning,” she said to whoever was on the other side.
“Good morning,” a man’s voice answered, his head appearing out the van window as she approached. “You’re up early.” His beard was nearly white, voice gravely, his eyes not visible in the dawn light.
“Are we about ready to go?” she asked him.
“Just about,” he said as he stepped down from the van. “Name’s Elmer. Edna’s my sister.” He offered his hand.
She took it in a quick handshake. His fingers felt cold, as she supposed hers did too. “I’m Rebecca Keim from across the road. Catching a ride, I guess.”
“Yes. Someone did say we were picking up an extra passenger. Well, there’s plenty of room. We’re just about ready to go. I thought we were coming over to pick you up, though.”
“I wanted to walk over,” she said. “It’s such a beautiful morning. Saves time this way too. Can I help with anything?”
“Us old people can always use help,” he allowed. “The good Lord knows. I reckon my Elsie has our suitcases ready. You might help her get them to the van. Our driver was staying here too. She just started the van a little bit ago, so it would warm up.”
“I’ll go see what I can do to help,” Rebecca said, setting her suitcase on the ground.
“You go on in,” he said. “I was just making sure the van was cleaned out a bit. Should have done it yesterday, but I forgot. Elsie reminded me this morning.”
“Here, let me help with that,” she said, not waiting for a reply. She climbed in the van and did a quick pickup of some paper and other traveling debris. Glancing behind her, she saw Elmer walk slowly toward the house, open the door, and disappear inside.
After the van was clean to Rebecca’s satisfaction, she went into the house.
Elmer was coming from Edna’s spare bedroom with two suitcases. Edna and a lady she assumed was Elsie were clearing the kitchen table. A Mennonite looking woman, thirty years old or so, was seated, talking with them.
“Good morning,” Edna called out, greeting her from where she was standing. “Elmer said you were outside.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Elsie, this is Rebecca. She’s the one from across the road, who brought us the pecan pie. Rebecca, this is Elsie, Elmer’s wife. Over here is Mary Coblentz, who is driving the load.”
“So, you’re the one who baked the pecan pie!” Elsie exclaimed.
“Mom and I,” Rebecca said.
“Well, it was among the best,” Elsie assured her. “Pecan is Elmer’s favorite.”
After a few moments of casual conversation, Mary said, “We really must be going. There are two more stops to make for the others.”
Minutes later they were gathered by the van, exchanging goodbyes.
Mary was in the back, making sure all the suitcases fit. “We’ll have to rearrange suitcases as we pick the others up,” she said to Rebecca, closing the back. Together they waited for Elmer and Elsie to finish talking with Edna.
“I hope my suitcase isn’t too much,” Rebecca said.
“No, you Amish all travel pretty light,” Mary said.
Elmer and Elsie climbed into the van, and Rebecca began to follow, but Mary said, “Rebecca, why don’t you take the front seat beside me?”
“Oh! I wouldn’t want to do that,” Rebecca objected.
“I’m sure no one will mind.” She stuck her head over the seat. “Elmer, okay with you if Rebecca rides in front?”
“No matter to me,” he said. “She’ll keep you company.”
“See?” Mary said to Rebecca. “Now get up here.”
Reluctantly Rebecca got in, finding the experience unnerving. She had never ridden in the front seat of a van. That was always reserved for her father or mother when they hired a driver.
Mary started the van as Elmer pushed the side door shut. Moments later they were on their way, turning right at the main road, crossing the little open bridge, and rattling across the Harshville covered bridge.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The sun was just cresting the little hamlet of Harshville, sending out strong steaks of light, as Mary accelerated the van to negotiate the hill. Rebecca saw her foot tightening and wondered what it must be like to know how to drive. Would it feel evil, maybe sinful? Would it feel as if one was free, or would it be even a greater bondage to the things of this world, as the old folks claimed?
“You born around here?” Mary interrupted Rebecca’s thoughts, turning left on the Duffy road.
“No,” Rebecca said, “in Indiana.”
“In Milroy, where we’re going?”
She nodded.
“My parents were Amish. Way back,” Mary volunteered, pulling into a driveway. “Our first pickup.”
“How many stops have we got?”
“This one and one more. It’s not a full load,” Mary said, so accustomed to Amish ways that she no longer considered it strange having to explain why she was driving with less than a full load. To any Amish person paying for a taxi, especially on long trips, an empty seat was considered a great wasted expense.
An older couple appeared, he carrying their one suitcase. Rebecca caught a glimpse of the man’s face as he approached, his black hat pulled down low over his ears to ward off the morning cold. His eyes looked kind as they caught hers in the brightening morning light. He nodded and glance
d away to make sure his wife found the step into the van.
“Good morning,” the wife said cheerfully, once inside. “The Lord has given us another great day for travel.”
“That He has,” Mary agreed, getting out to help and setting their suitcase between the seats. “I’ll pack it better when we pick up the Yoders,” she said.
They nodded and took their seats.
“You sleep well?” the woman asked Elsie.
“Ach! Ya!” Elsie replied. “Elmer’s sister always has a good bed ready when we visit. Good food too.”
The man, who had just gotten in, chuckled. “Martha, on the other hand, is not the best cook in the world. But an old body doesn’t need it like it used to.”
“Our daughter can cook just fine,” the wife retorted.
“Now, now,” he said, stroking her arm, “I wasn’t meaning anything by it. Or about your cooking either. It’s just not one of Martha’s strong points.”
“Well, I suppose that’s so,” his wife admitted, settling back into the seat. “She always liked farming better.”
“There you go,” he told her. “Each of us has a strong point. With twelve children, it’s best not to be too good at cooking anyway. Cheaper too.”
Mary smiled at their conversation, as she backed out to the main road and turned south back toward Wheat Ridge Road. Turning left she drove through Unity and pulled into another driveway a ways out of town. There, another couple appeared. And while Mary was packing all the luggage securely behind the backseat, the new woman, her face round and cheery under her white hair and head covering, said to Rebecca, “I didn’t know you were coming along.”
Rebecca smiled, turning around in the front seat, “I didn’t know I was going either. Not till Monday. Mom just made her mind up then to have me go to Milroy. My aunt is having a baby. I’m helping out.”
“When’s it due?” the woman asked.
“End of next week.”
“So you’re going out early?”
“Yes,” Rebecca said. “Getting there early, just in case the baby comes sooner.”
“Well, it’s good to have you along.” She motioned toward her husband. He nodded, his face sober and withdrawn, unlike his wife’s cheerful expression. With his thumbs through his suspenders, he seemed to be studying the rising sun over Wheat Ridge.
“Well,” Mary said, climbing back in, “now we’re on our way.”
Esther turned around in her seat to speak to Elsie, as Mary got on the road again, heading west now. Once she got on 247, Rebecca decided it wouldn’t interfere with her driving to ask, “You’re Mennonite?”
“Yeah,” she said, “Conservative Conference.”
“I wouldn’t know what that means,” Rebecca said hesitating.
“Believe me, I don’t either. Not half the time. It’s just a way of telling ourselves apart. I don’t like labels much myself. Holmes County has every flavor and variety of our people.”
Not sure if she was including Amish in her comment, Rebecca asked, “You consider Amish in the family too?”
“Sure,” Mary beamed. “I have several good Amish friends. Went to school together at Highland Heights, outside Berlin.”
Rebecca raised her eyebrows. “Amish people go to public schools?”
“Sure. Some of them do. Not all. Like I said, they come in all shapes and sizes.”
“That’s sure different from what I know,” Rebecca allowed. “Are you married?”
“Nope. Never was.”
“Ah,” Rebecca said, finding herself feeling surprisingly comfortable around this Mennonite she had only met a few minutes ago, “you’re good looking enough.”
“Well, thank you!” Mary gushed in a decidedly un-Amish fashion. “That’s nice of you to say. Stokes a girl’s self-esteem a little. I can always use some of that. I’ve had my chances at marriage. Decided not to, I guess. Too involved in mission work.”
“Really?” Rebecca asked in surprise.
Mary noticed her tone. “Lots of the Amish support our outreach too.”
“Oh!” Rebecca was again surprised. “Like where?”
“I usually spend half the year at a mission in Haiti. The other half in the States. Amish mostly support it with money. We have an auction every year for the outreach. Sometimes some of the young Amish people come along for a trip on a work project—Amish and Mennonites.”
“I see,” Rebecca said uncertainly. “Well, my dad says the Lord is in the saving business.”
“That He is,” Mary said, apparently missing the Amish take on that statement.
Rebecca decided she should make sure there was no misunderstanding. “Ah,” she cleared her throat and continued, “He’s a great God. Dad says He can do wonderful things by Himself. We just tend to mess things up when we try to help Him.”
“Well,” Mary said, “God can do things by Himself. He does, I know. He also wants us to help Him. Work with Him.”
Rebecca was astonished at such boldness in offering help to the Almighty. It must have shown in her face.
Mary laughed. “I know. The Lord wouldn’t need our help. He could do it all by Himself. But I think He wants us to learn something in the process.”
“But we make so many mistakes,” Rebecca ventured, glancing back over her shoulder to see if anyone was listening to their conversation. No one seemed to be. Esther’s husband, Chris, was dozing in his seat.
“Well, that’s true,” Mary allowed. “Maybe that’s part of the process. Anyway, it’s something I love to do.”
“I see,” Rebecca said, even though she was not sure how such a thing was possible. Going to a foreign country every year was not even in her realm of possibilities. She had no idea whether or not she would enjoy it.
The time sped by as the two women shared occasional small talk. Then, after a lengthy silence, Mary rather boldly asked, “You seeing someone?”
Rebecca knew she was going to blush, even before the redness spread on her neck. “Yes.”
“Serious?” Mary asked, glancing at Rebecca’s flushed cheeks.
Rebecca nodded, keeping her eyes straight ahead.
“I’ve been thinking more about it lately,” Mary’s voice took on a confessional tone. “There’s a real nice local man in Haiti. Converted by the mission when he was younger. His wife died last year. I thought I saw something in his eyes the last time I was down there. Set me thinking about it.”
Rebecca’s eyes must have become as big as saucers because Mary laughed out loud when she saw them.
“A native?” The question just popped out of Rebecca’s mouth.
“Yes. Why not?” Mary said. “They’re people just like us.”
“Ah.” Rebecca wasn’t certain of that at all. “They don’t look like us.”
“No. They don’t. But they live and die like us.”
“But marrying one…do you think that’s wise?”
“Well,” Mary tilted her head and replied, “that’s a good point, I suppose. They’re so poor down there. His name is Marcus.” Mary paused to glance at Rebecca.
She nodded. “The name sounds usual.”
“He pastors one of the local church groups from the mission. I guess that makes him one of the upper crust down there. That’s all fine and good until you compare it to American standards. Then it all changes. Not that I think myself better than them. Not at all. It’s just that I’m used to things. Refrigerators. Electricity. Cars. Washing machines. All of that.”
Not used to thinking along those lines, Rebecca just lifted her shoulders in puzzlement. It was a world removed from any she knew.
Mary continued, “I suppose he might want to live like I do. Unless I want to live like he does, which would be an option, I guess. I think if I want to marry him, I should live down there with him.”
“You think you could do that?” Rebecca asked.
“That’s the big question. I must say,” Mary said rolling her eyes, “it does hold its fascinations, don’t you think?”
Rebecca let the breath out that she had been unconsciously holding. “What a complicated world.”
“That it is…but then it isn’t,” Mary allowed. “We just need to find our way. Or the Lord’s way actually.”
“That’s true,” Rebecca said, thinking of the ring in her suitcase. That was nothing quite like this, but she still needed God’s help. She needed a way through it. But a schoolgirl crush had to be easier than deciding whether to marry such a strange person from a completely different culture. She took a deep breath at the very thought of it.
“You think…Marcus…is serious then?” Rebecca asked.
“Yes,” Mary said.
They drove along in silence for a few minutes, each lost in her own thoughts.
“Hey, I never expected to say all that,” Mary finally spoke up. “This has been a pleasant surprise. I think the Lord sent you along to brighten my day.”
“I don’t know about that,” Rebecca said quickly, again astonished at how easily Mary assumed the Almighty’s plans and her particular place in it.
“You think we should stop for lunch?” Mary asked, glancing at her watch.
“I don’t know.” Rebecca was not particularly hungry. “Can we make it to Milroy before twelve?”
Mary did the calculations in her head. “I don’t think so. Besides, no one knows exactly when to be expecting us. They won’t have lunch ready.”
“That’s true,” Rebecca said.
“Hey,” Mary hollered toward the back of the van. “You want to stop for lunch?”
After some quick consultations, the answer “Yes” was hollered back by Elmer.
“Where?”
“Anywhere.”
“There’s an Applebee’s up ahead.”
Again the quick consultations and a “That’s fine” came from Elmer.
Mary began to slow down.
She grinned and said, “That was quick enough,” as she took the next exit and pulled into the Applebee’s parking lot.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
An hour later they were on the road again.
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