Rebecca wasn’t paying attention. Instead, she was thinking about what she had said about being tense, wondering if it could have anything to do with her problems. She had sure been tense about Atlee. John too. She shoved the thoughts away, turning to listen to Leona.
Instead, it was Stephen who was speaking, “I have a surprise,” he said. “I didn’t know about the cake in the oven. I just took the chance.” A happy grin spread all over his face. “Even your mother doesn’t know about it.”
There was silence as they waited, but he seemed to be teasing them.
“Okay,” Leona said, after a few moments had passed, “let’s hear it.”
“Ice cream!” he said, his grin getting even bigger. “Schwan’s. The truck stopped nearby where we were working…and just at quitting time.”
A chorus of smiles around the table greeted his announcement.
“But,” Leona replied, not joining in the fun, “where is it? It must be melting.”
“Safe in my cooler,” Stephen said, “on ice.”
“But that won’t keep it forever,” she insisted. “You have to bring it inside.”
“Who wants to go out and get it?” Stephen asked, to which Lois answered by getting up.
“It’s in the backseat of the buggy,” he told her. “Colder outside too.”
Leona looked at Stephen and said, “I guess I didn’t notice you didn’t bring your lunch things in. You are a sneaker.”
“Not always,” he said, as their eyes met again. Something wonderful seemed to pass between them, causing Rebecca to turned away lest she be embarrassed.
Stephen was doing Leona a lot of good tonight, that was for sure. Perhaps men were good for something besides trouble. Trouble and broken promises. Emma might not have a man to cheer her up, but neither did she have a man to bring her down.
With that conclusion, she got up to get bowls for the ice cream.
“The spoon is in the third drawer,” Leona said. “There’s also a small scoop there.”
When Lois returned with the cooler, the content was carefully removed and transferred to the bowls. Once all were served, the household fell silent except for the sound of softly clicking spoons.
“It’s good,” Leona said for all of them.
“Butter pecan—the best,” Elmo said. “Better even than homemade.”
“Not better than Fannie’s ice cream,” Verna protested. The comment set the two boys thinking.
When they didn’t answer, Verna prodded them, “You agree, don’t you?”
Neither boy said anything, both taking another sample of ice cream, making a show of tasting it slowly, and sliding their spoons back out of their mouths.
“Nope,” they said in unison. “This tastes better.”
“Than Fannie’s?” Verna looked incredulously at her brothers.
“Well,” Elmo answered, “Fannie’s—and Mom’s too—is good. Maybe not quite…but almost. Mom makes a good strawberry, but this is…” he searched for the right words and then added, “so store-bought and rich and creamy.”
“They’re both good,” Stephen declared. “Schwan’s is different than homemade. You’d get tired of this too, if you had it as much as you have homemade ice cream.”
“I like it because you don’t have to turn it with a crank,” Stephen Jr. said.
“You never do anyway,” Thomas reminded him. “I do most of the turning.”
“He does help.” Leona came to the six-year-old’s defense. “He makes a few turns every now and then.”
“I’ll do more when I get bigger,” Stephen Jr. volunteered. “I’ll turn all of it.”
“All in good time. You are growing fast enough already,” Leona said.
“Will Jonathon grow up fast?” Stephen Jr. wanted to know, as the newest member of the family made himself known with a wail from the living room.
“He will too,” Leona assured him, getting up to tend to the baby.
“Let’s pray first,” Stephen said, stopping her.
“But the baby,” she was already half out of her chair.
“Okay,” he said, “get him. Then he can pray with us.”
Rising and moving quickly, Leona was back in moments with Jonathon. He peeked out over his mother’s arms, his eyes unblinking and staring at their faces as Stephen led out in prayer again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The next several days passed in a blur of meals, wash, and children going to and returning from school. Rebecca was too busy to leave the house. Leona, after another visit to the doctor, was assured that she was recovering quickly enough. By Wednesday morning, she appeared in the kitchen and was determined to help.
“I’m doing okay,” Rebecca assured her, flipping the eggs in the pan on the gas range.
“But you’re leaving the day after tomorrow. I have to get going somehow.”
“Just don’t overdo it.”
“I won’t. Jonathon isn’t too fussy during the night. I’m getting my sleep. I’m so thankful for that.”
Rebecca took the plate of eggs and set them on the kitchen table. Stephen was coming down the hall, the sound of his footsteps getting louder. This morning she had biscuits and gravy ready for him—her first time preparing them without her mother around.
Leona noticed. “So you tried biscuits and gravy?”
“Yes. I hope they’re good.”
“I’m sure they are. I think I’ll sit down and have breakfast with Stephen. Why don’t you join us?”
“The children are getting up in a few minutes. I don’t have their eggs made.”
“They can wait. It won’t take that long. Sit down and eat.”
Wearily, Rebecca took the chair beside Leona, after making sure all the food was within reach.
After they had prayed, Leona brought up the subject Rebecca had thought would never come up on its own. “Is there anything you’d like to do before you leave? You’ve been cooped up here for days.”
Seeing her chance, Rebecca said, “I’d love to stop by and see Emma. I saw her in church the first Sunday I was here, but that’s not like talking to her alone.”
Leona fully agreed and quickly replied, “Certainly. You should do that. There’s really no reason not to. I’m coming along just fine. How about tomorrow? You can take the horse and buggy over by yourself.”
“Really?” Rebecca said, trying not to sound too eager.
“Absolutely. Plan on that for tomorrow.”
“You’ll have to tell me where she lives now. I can’t remember exactly.”
“It’s easy enough,” Leona assured her. “It’s just on the other side of Milroy.”
So it was that, on Thursday as soon as she could get away, Rebecca was on her way to Emma’s house. The day, which dawned with a few snow clouds, was now breaking into sunshine, and Rebecca was thankful.
Pulling on the reins of the unfamiliar horse, she brought it to a stop at Highway 3. Nervously, she hoped it would stand still long enough for the road to clear. It hadn’t seemed too skittish when she hitched it to the buggy, but one never knew what quirks each individual horse had.
Keeping the reins taut, she waited for the cars coming from each direction. Their approaching sounds seemed not to affect the horse—calmly it kept its head pointed toward the town of Milroy and raised no objections to the stop. Once the highway was clear, she let the lines out slowly, relieved.
Following Leona’s directions, she drove through Milroy, with its full blaze of Christmas decorations, and then south on Base Road. Once she was past the next junction, she started looking for the house. It wasn’t hard to find. The house was on her left, the driveway circling past the white two-story house to the red barn.
A buggy was already parked in front of the barn. It was unhitched and cross corners to the barnyard. That could be Emma’s buggy, but Rebecca doubted it. Emma would likely keep her buggy inside or at least under the barn overhang. It must belong to Luke, who Leona had told her worked for Emma.
As she
pulled up, she caught sight of a figure out beside the third barn, working with the cattle. His black hat hid his face, but he had Luke’s shape and height. He showed no interest in her arrival or made any attempt to come in her direction and offer to unhitch the buggy for her.
Pulling up to the hitching rail and avoiding the parked buggy, Rebecca got out. She leaned back into the buggy and retrieved the tie rope from under the seat, where she had placed it for easier retrieval. The horse made no objections as she tied it securely to the rail.
Following the sidewalk, she arrived at the front door and timidly knocked. When it opened, Emma’s face instantly broke into a broad smile. “Oh, Rebecca. I wondered who drove in. I figured it was probably business and Luke would take care of it. By all means, come in.”
Rebecca, her schoolgirl shyness coming over her, stepped inside. Emma was as imposing as ever. Tall for an Amish woman, her now nearly white hair was neatly tucked under her hair covering, but it was her demeanor that made the most impact. At church on Sunday, it wasn’t as apparent, but here in her own house during the week, the effect was unmistakable. Emma was used to giving the orders.
“I thought I’d stop by,” Rebecca said. Then feeling that more of an explanation was in order, she added, “There’s something I’d like to ask you.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve come all the way over here with some confession about cheating during your school days. Seems like I have heard enough of those already,” Emma exclaimed, motioning toward the living room. “Can’t say I ever expected it of you, as hard as you had to work.”
“No, no.” Rebecca was thoroughly flustered. “That’s not it at all!”
“Well! Dank Da Hah,” Emma exclaimed. “It would have disappointed me quite a lot. Let me get you a glass of water or orange juice.”
“Water’s fine,” Rebecca told her.
Emma wrinkled her brow. “Well, I wanted orange juice. So let me get you both. Then if you don’t drink it, nothing’s lost.”
Without waiting for approval from Rebecca, Emma went to the kitchen, her stride firm and brisk. Returning, she set two glasses beside Rebecca and went back to the kitchen for her own glass.
“So you live in Wheat Ridge now?”
“Yes.”
“For what? Three, four years?”
“Something like that.”
“Do you like it?”
Rebecca’s face lit up. “Yes. Wheat Ridge is a wonderful place to live. We’ve really made ourselves at home there. Mom likes it, I think. Dad is doing well with the farm. A lot of businesses are along that road. Amish ones. I suppose Dad could get work with one of them, but he likes the farm.”
“You still milk?”
“Yes. And Matthew is just learning how to chore,” Rebecca said. “Poor fellow. He had to learn fast when Mom decided to send me out to help Leona.”
“Oh, ya. You’re here for the baby. On Sunday they said it was a boy.”
Rebecca smiled. “Jonathon. He’s already growing fat. Sleeps well at night too. That is helping Leona get better faster.”
“Wouldn’t know much about babies myself. I’m just a school-teacher.”
“And a good one,” Rebecca said with affection.
“I always liked you too.” Emma allowed similar feelings to creep into her voice. “So what was it that you wanted to ask me?”
Now that the time had come, Rebecca hesitated, thinking about the consequences, then plunged ahead. “It’s about Atlee.”
Emma raised her eyebrows. “You two get in trouble together? That’s a whole lot worse than cheating. How did I miss that? I remember I was just about to the point where I was going to tell your mother that she needed to keep you two apart. Then his parents went Mennonite.”
“Oh, no,” Rebecca shook her head and replied, “it’s not that at all. We didn’t do anything inappropriate.”
Emma looked relieved. “I’m glad to hear that. What is it then?”
“Well,” Rebecca took a deep breath and continued, “one of the reasons I was glad Mom let me come out to help Leona is that I needed to find out something.”
“Yes?” Emma was waiting.
“I needed to know. To understand. About Atlee and me. Something that was scaring me.”
“And?” Emma was looking at her.
“I realized it the day Leona had Jonathon. I loved Atlee. I loved him more than I have ever loved anyone. And…” she said hesitantly. Should I really tell Emma about the promise? “Well, Atlee asked me to promise to wait for him. That is, that when we were adults, we’d come back together…”
Emma was silent as Rebecca collected herself.
“We had promised to meet each other on my twenty-first birthday. And that was last week. And so I came to the bridge where we were supposed to meet.” She ended with a gasp and tears. “I had to tell someone.”
“Of course you did,” Emma said quietly. “He didn’t show, did he?”
“What am I going to do?” Rebecca asked, her eyes large. “He didn’t come. I…I’ve even thought about not marrying…about staying single. Like you. You’ve always seemed so happy.”
Emma let out a breath. “Well, first off, Rebecca, I don’t think you ought to hold it against Atlee for not coming. You were both so young then. Things change as we get older. We forget what once seemed so important.”
Rebecca was crying softly, but didn’t speak.
Emma sat back in her chair. “Tell me, Rebecca. Has there been anyone else since Atlee?”
“Yes. John Miller in Wheat Ridge. He asked me to marry him just before I came out here.”
“And you said what?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me more about you and Atlee.”
Rebecca looked over toward the fireplace. Its smooth stones stood out from each other, each a different shade of earth tone, held together by gray mortar. She took a deep breath and then began, “It was on one of the last days he was in school. He gave me a ring that he had found. Asked me if I would keep it until I turned twenty-one. That he would come back for me then. He said that I should wait for him. I told him I would, Emma. I even promised.”
“What did this ring look like?”
“Oh, it was pretty. But that’s not what’s causing me trouble.”
“I know. It’s your heart that’s causing you trouble.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Do you still have the ring?”
“No. I threw it away when he didn’t show up. Do you think he’s going to come back?”
Emma didn’t think long before replying, “No, dear, they never do.”
“But I loved him with all my heart.”
“Yes. I know you did. That was because you were young. Young hearts fill up easily,” Emma said, taking Rebecca’s hand. “You can learn to give all that love to John now.”
“You think so?”
Emma nodded, squeezing her hand. “He’s an Amish boy? This John?”
“Of course!” Rebecca said in horror. “I wouldn’t date anyone else.”
“That’s what I thought.” Emma’s lips stretched into a thin smile. “Does he love you?”
“Yes, he says he does.”
“Well, now, that’s something wonderful. An Amish man who loves you. Rebecca, the very best thing you can do is to love this John right back.”
Rebecca nodded, still unsure.
“What time do you have to be back at Leona’s?” Emma asked.
“Soon. I’m leaving tomorrow with a load going to Wheat Ridge for Christmas visits. I need to pack.”
“So why don’t I show you the house, and let’s continue our visit. Let’s get you cheered up. Okay?”
That was fine with Rebecca. She followed Emma through the house, taking in the details and the history. It was clearly built by the English because it had a fireplace.
“My brother, M-Jay—did you know him, Rebecca?”
“I think I may have met him when I was little, but I don’t really remember,” she said.
&
nbsp; “He left me this farm—and two others. Good farms too.”
Thirty minutes later, Rebecca was back on the road, her heart much lighter. She would go home, she decided, and learn to love John as she had loved Atlee. Emma had come to her rescue as always. Her heart was now bigger, and she would give it all away again. She would let John’s love fill all of her heart.
She was a quarter mile or so short of the stop sign where she would turn onto the state road toward Milroy. That’s where Rebecca noticed the blue car following her. When she guided the buggy to the side of the road to give the car room to pass, it made no great effort to do so. It moved over slightly and drove up even with the buggy.
She glimpsed a male face inside the car, intently scrutinizing the interior of the buggy as it inched by. This could be any one of many things, she thought, a curious tourist, some local who thought he knew her, or worse, perhaps a total stranger with evil on his mind.
Whoever it was pulled to a slow stop ahead of her and opened the car door to get out. She saw clearly that it was a young man, clean-cut and wearing a T-shirt and denim pants. Thinking fast, she thought about giving Leona’s horse full rein and making a run for the main road where she might get help.
Instead, she waited as he approached the buggy, his step confident. There was no use in avoiding his presence, so she slid open the buggy door, keeping the reins firmly in her left hand.
“Rebecca?” he asked, stopping just short of the buggy steps, a half question in his voice, a smile playing on his lips.
“Yes,” she said because he already seemed to know her name.
“I thought so,” he said. “You just came from Emma’s place. I passed you coming down.”
When she kept a stony look on her face, he asked, “You don’t recognize me, do you?”
“Should I?” she asked, finally looking full into his face. And then at once the years shed themselves in front of her eyes. The freckles were gone, the face was etched with lines—as if he had somehow suffered in life, but his hair was still brown and his eyes as blue as ever.
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