by Tricia Goyer
He finished his hymn and then made his way back into the cabin. Amos sat up from his bunk as Caleb entered. He pointed to the countertop cluttered with coffee mugs, newspapers, bullets, bits of rope, and rolls of duct tape.
“There’s another letter from your mem,” Amos said.
“Ja, thanks for picking that up for me.”
“Aren’t you going to read them? I think there’s at least two months’ worth that you haven’t touched.”
Caleb shrugged. “It’s just the same old news from home. How exciting can harvesting wheat be? And who cares which neighbor secretly has a cell phone with Facebook?” He tried to keep his tone light. “I’m certain my mem is just trying to do her part in keeping in contact. Maybe tomorrow I’ll write a postcard to let her know I’m busy working and such.”
He reached back and rubbed the back of his neck. Just seeing those letters caused his shoulders to knot up, tightening down like his parents’ windup clock on the mantel.
Amos didn’t look convinced. How could Caleb explain that Mem’s words broke his heart over and over again? He didn’t want to know how hard it was on everyone since Grandpa’s stroke. He didn’t want to face the fact that he’d walked away from the farm when his family needed him most. His promise to his grandfather kept him in the West Kootenai despite that.
Caleb turned off their kerosene lamp and glanced at Amos, giving him a good-night nod. He thought about wishing his friend sweet dreams, but what was the use? No matter how good one’s dreams, the reality was that the death of someone as wonderful as his opa was a part of life. It meant saying good-bye before you were ready and not being able to breathe as the words escaped.
Somewhere between St. Paul and St. Cloud, Minnesota, Rebecca got ahold of Marianna on the phone. Instead of her Amish dress, she’d changed into a simple skirt and blouse. Her kapp was tucked into her satchel too.
“Rebecca, I’m so glad that you called. I was surprised to hear your voice on my voice mail. It was a pleasant surprise.” Her friend’s voice echoed through the phone. How many nights had they shared a bed during sleepovers, talking late into the night about their futures? Rebecca never could have imagined Marianna leaving the Amish. And even more, she never would have imagined she would be too.
Rebecca pulled her sweater tighter around her. The air was cooler than she liked on the train. Or maybe it was the sound of Marianna’s voice that had caused goose bumps to rise on her arms.
“I was wondering if I could visit. I’ve missed seeing you, and I would love to see Ben again. And your parents. Is everyone doing well?”
“Ja, everyone is gut.” Marianna’s voice slipped easily back into Pennsylvania Dutch. “Mem and Dat are having a guesthouse built. They’re hoping Levi and Naomi will come for a spell. They are so excited to see baby Samuel. And speaking of excitement, I’d love for you to come! It would be wunderbar. Do you have a date in mind?”
“Ja, sort of.” Rebecca chuckled. “And it might be a little sooner than you expect. I was thinking about tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Do you mean you’ll be leaving Indiana tomorrow?”
“Ne, I mean I’ll be arriving tomorrow. The truth is . . . I’m already on the train.”
The clacking of the train wheels on the track rang out, but only silence came from the phone.
“I did wonder what that noise was. Is everything all right?” Marianna finally asked. “Are you . . . in trouble?”
“Trouble? Ne.” She pushed the words out. “I mean things are gut with my family. I’m not running from any trouble.” She chuckled, trying to keep the conversation light.
“Ja, well, that’s gut. After Naomi turned up pregnant . . . Well, I’m sorry that I even asked. It’s a wonderful surprise that you’re coming. I just never expected it would really happen. And tomorrow . . .” Marianna’s voice bubbled through the phone. “I’m excited for you to see our new place. Ben built me a cabin. He tells me it’s family size. I’m excited that you’ll be our first guest. You do have a chaperone with you, right?”
“Just me. But I’ll explain when I get there.”
“Ja, I understand . . .” From Marianna’s voice, it was clear she didn’t really understand. “I just doubt I’ll be able to sleep a wink until you do,” she added.
It wasn’t common, they both knew, for a young Amish woman to travel alone, and Rebecca had no doubt Marianna would be up all night worrying about her and praying for her. Rebecca wished she could explain now, but it wasn’t something she could talk about over the phone. The tears would come when she did. Tears she didn’t want the other passengers witnessing.
Rebecca gave Marianna the time of arrival in Whitefish and then told her friend she’d see her tomorrow. Even as she hung up the phone, a new excitement lightened her heart. For many years she’d silently focused on what she’d be leaving. Now—for the first time—she was excited by who was waiting for her across the miles. If anyone would understand her leaving, it had to be Marianna.
Rebecca did her best to sleep on the train, but instead she found herself counting down the hours to Whitefish. She was eager to see a friendly face. Eager to spill her heart to someone who knew her—really knew her. She also couldn’t wait to see Marianna without her Amish clothes. Rebecca couldn’t picture such a thing. If she’d had to guess which friend would live far from LaGrange County, which one would turn in her kapp for a chap, Marianna would have been her last choice.
On the train most people kept to themselves. Rebecca passed the time talking to an older woman who was on the way to Spokane to see her daughter. The woman talked to Rebecca with an ease that Rebecca wasn’t used to. In her Amish dress people were usually hesitant to talk to her, as if it wasn’t allowed. Or worse, as if Rebecca was an oddity. But in her Englisch clothes she felt different—like a new person.
It was a feeling Rebecca didn’t like very much. Yet this was what she wanted . . . wasn’t it? Wasn’t this what she’d been working so hard for?
Before Rebecca knew it, the train was pulling into Whitefish. She gasped at the view outside the window of the mountains, the tall pine trees, and the blue sky that stretched farther than she’d ever seen.
She rose and moved toward the train door as the train slowed, holding on to the door rail as the train came to a stop. Her free hand clung to her suitcase. When the conductor opened the door, a fresh, warm breeze blew in.
She stepped off the train, and her stomach growled at the aroma of barbecue beef somewhere close by. Soon both feet were planted on asphalt, but she remained silent, still—trying to get her bearings. She was in Montana. She had left home. Her parents had no idea where she was . . .
Yet even here there was a familiar face. Marianna stood at the end of the walkway that led to the train station. She wasn’t wearing Amish clothes, but the skirt, blouse, and head scarf were simple. Similar to the clothes Rebecca had chosen, minus the head scarf. One could leave the Amish with her actions, but it was clear Marianna still held tight to some traditions with her heart. Rebecca did too.
Marianna’s eyes scanned the passengers. Rebecca shuffled slightly. She should have warned her friend that she wouldn’t be wearing Amish dress. Marianna passed over her twice, and then her eyes finally paused. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. Rebecca self-consciously brushed a strand of dark hair off her shoulder and then smiled and waved.
She hesitantly walked forward, suitcase in hand, but it was Marianna who rushed to her, arms wide open. She paused before Rebecca and pulled her into a hug.
“Look at you! You’re here.”
“Ja, I have a hard time believing it myself.”
“You’ll have to tell me more . . . about, uh, everything.” Marianna eyed Rebecca’s blouse and skirt. “And excuse me if I stare. I didn’t realize my closest friend had such a cute figure. Englisch clothes?”
Rebecca blushed. “Ja, there is much to tell.” She readjusted her suitcase in her hand and then scanned the busy sidewalks around the train station. “Is Ben here? I’d
love to see him again. When he was back in Shipshe, well, his mind was on other things than visiting your friends and neighbors. Not that my family would have welcomed him in if he had kumme visiting.”
“That’s the truth. Everyone in the community was leery of him . . . and I can see that their concerns weren’t unfounded.” Pink tinged Marianna’s cheeks. She shifted her weight from one foot to another. “But es dutt mir leed . . . I’m sorry that he couldn’t make it. They had their last day of filming his newest music video.” Marianna glanced at her watch. “I left early this morning to get some shopping done in Kalispell. The video shoot will probably be done by the time we get there. We can have lunch at my house. I have a pot of soup on, if that’s all right . . . unless you need something sooner?”
“Later is fine. I ate on the train.” She didn’t tell Marianna that she’d nibbled on Mem’s oatmeal cookies for a day and a half. She just hoped Dat forgave her for stealing them out of the cookie jar and tucking them into her purse the evening before she left.
They walked around the side of the building to the parking lot. The day was sunny and warm, and children played on an old train engine that had been set up on the grass for a display.
Rebecca scanned the parking lot, looking for a driver. “I forgot to tell you over the phone that I’d be happy to pay for the driver too. I know it’s a long way.”
Marianna approached a large blue truck and pulled out a key from her skirt pocket. “Ach, I don’t have a driver. Ben taught me to drive, and I got my license three months ago.”
“You . . . drive?” Rebecca paused in her steps. She looked around the side of the truck, almost expecting someone to jump out and yell, “Surprise!”
“Ja. I didn’t think it would fluster you so.”
Rebecca heard the doors unlock, and she opened hers. “I’m, uh, not flustered.”
Marianna got into the driver’s seat and then cast a glance in Rebecca’s direction. “Remember who you’re talking to here. You’re not going to be able to pull much wool over my eyes, Becks.”
Rebecca set her suitcase in the backseat of the truck and then got in. “Wow, I haven’t heard that name in a while.”
“You don’t mind, do you? I’m not sure why that name came to me all of a sudden . . .” Marianna started the truck, and the roar of the engine caused Rebecca to jump. She’d seen large trucks like this in Indiana, but she’d never ridden in one—especially one driven by someone who’d spent her whole life being transported by horse and buggy.
Her heartbeat quickened, but it had little to do with Marianna’s driving. Hearing her childhood nickname, a hundred memories flooded in.
“No, but . . .” Tears came unexpectedly, and she pulled the cuff of her sweater over her palm and quickly wiped her eyes. “There were only two people who used that name. I’d almost forgotten. I haven’t heard it in years.”
Marianna moved to put the truck into gear and then paused. “Ach, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up. I—well, I forgot that Claudia also used to call you that.”
Rebecca tucked a strand of silky brown hair behind her ear and then offered a sad smile. “I’m not sure who picked it up from whom.” She wanted to say more, but what? There were no words to describe her loss.
Marianna pulled out, then drove her friend around on a short tour of the downtown area of Whitefish. It looked like much hadn’t changed in fifty years with the old buildings, tall facades, wagon-wide streets, and the window shoppers strolling, wearing western clothes. Soon they were on their way, heading up to the West Kootenai. As she drove, Marianna told Rebecca about the Native Americans who’d first lived in the area, about some of the first settlers, and a little about the community now.
“If you ever want to know anything about our corner of the world, you have to ask Edgar. He’s a clerk at the Kraft and Grocery, and his parents were some of the first settlers in the area. There’s a big lake we’re going to cross over—you’ll see it. It’s called Lake Koocanusa. And in the valley where the water now rests, there used to be a little town. Edgar’s folks homesteaded there, and Edgar calls it his lake.”
The two-lane road took them through beautiful country. Every now and then Rebecca would slip her camera from her purse and take a few shots of the mountains. She felt guilty every time she did. Guilty about not wearing Amish dress too. Guiltier than she thought she would feel. She’d sometimes worn these clothes around Englisch friends from work when she stayed at their homes, but around Marianna she’d always played the role of an Amish girl. There was so much Marianna didn’t know. Even before her friend left Indiana, Rebecca had been hiding the fact that she’d been taking online classes.
As they drove, she waited for Marianna to ask about why she’d left, where she was going, and what she was planning to do, but her friend didn’t comment about it. The slower pace of Montana had settled Marianna’s heart in a way Rebecca had never seen. Marianna had always been gentle and sweet, but now she had a contented glow about her face that gave Rebecca the sense Marianna had found the love she’d been looking for.
Rebecca bit her lip, wishing she could claim the same. There had been little contentment and virtually no peace the last seven years. The closest feeling of satisfaction came when she’d been taking the Emergency Medical Technician class in Elkhart. She’d often traveled over on Friday nights with Lora and stayed with a friend of a friend to make it to the Saturday classes.
Rebecca had noted the disappointment in her parents’ gazes whenever she left on Fridays. She’d wanted to explain that she wasn’t out partying, but the truth would bring them no comfort. Not one bit.
After about an hour, the winding road began to run alongside a lake, and a large metal bridge crossed the expanse. Rebecca sucked in a breath. The lake was deep blue and contrasted with the light-blue sky that had not even a hint of clouds. A speedboat cut a white swath through the water, leaving a foaming wake, and above it the bridge glistened as if made of silver rather than steel.
Marianna sighed. “Even though it’s still another fifteen-minute drive up into the mountains, I always feel like I’m coming home when I cross the bridge.”
“This place is like something from a picture book. I’m not even going to try to take a photo, because there’s no way to capture it.”
“It’s a beautiful place, all right, and the people are even more special. When you move in, it’s like becoming part of an established tribe who has your back no matter what happens.”
“But that’s the way it is in our Amish communities, isn’t it? That’s the whole point of gestalt, unity.”
“I’m not talking about just the Amish community, but the whole community.”
“Amish and Englisch together?” Rebecca pulled her thumbnail to her lips and bit down.
“Ja. And I’m talking about more than just Englisch drivers. In Indiana most of the community only communicates with the Englisch when they need to hire a driver or get help from an Englisch doctor, but here in West Kootenai the relationships go far beyond that. The people here consider each other friends.”
Rebecca nodded. She’d heard about the Montana Amish community, especially after the Sommer family decided to move for good. Many people said that folks moved to this area to live more liberally—to be out from under the eye of their bishops.
With the bridge behind them, Marianna turned the truck to the right and started up the dirt-and-gravel road. Rebecca looked down to the lake. Cliffs of rocks dropped straight down. Pine trees clung to the cliffs, growing outward and upward. Rebecca guessed that their roots had to go deep for them to hold on like that.
Her body rocked as the truck drove over ruts and potholes, and for the first time she questioned if she’d made a mistake coming here. Maybe that’s what her family would think she was doing—leaving their community for the sake of ease of living.
Rebecca turned her head and stared out the windows at the thickening pine forests. Ease was the last thing on her mind.
“Ja
, there is a friendship among the people who live here. We are so secluded. We need each other. If there is a fire, it takes forty-five minutes for a fire engine to come from Eureka. But there are smaller ways we help each other too . . . It’s hard to explain. You’re just going to have to see.”
“But how can that be? Our—the Amish—community is supposed to be separate from the world.”
“Ach, they are, in many ways. In fact, there are a lot of people who aren’t happy that I left the Amish—even from this area. My Englisch friends accept me, of course, but I have many Amish friends who will only talk to me if no one else is around. And there are some who won’t talk to me at all. It’s almost as if they’re afraid they’re going to catch what I have.”
Rebecca crossed her arms and thought of those pine trees clinging to the cliffs as the road continued to wind upward. What happened when one walked away from her roots? Roots gave stability, and once she left Montana to go to Oregon, the last of hers would be severed.
She just hoped her fall wouldn’t be too hard. Wouldn’t hurt too many people.
Would they ever understand that she was really doing it for them?
CHAPTER
4
Rebecca couldn’t help but smile when they pulled up to the place Marianna had referred to as a “family cabin.” It was a large, two-story home made of logs. They parked in front of a porch, and a small gray dog bounded toward them.
A chuckle slipped from Marianna’s lips. “This is Trapper. He used to belong to the former owners of my parents’ place, and he adopted me.” The dog moved from Marianna to Rebecca and danced around her shoes.
