by Tricia Goyer
Ben returned, shaking his head. “That Caleb. I’m not sure what he’s going to come up with next.”
“Someone should really talk to him.” Rebecca crossed her arms. “It’s irresponsible.”
Ben nodded. “Someone really should, and from the brightness of your cheeks, Rebecca, I can tell it really bothered you. Maybe you should be the one to do it. I’ve heard that many young women in these parts are fancy on Caleb.”
“My cheeks?” She touched her face, and it indeed felt hot, but she was certain it was just from the warmth of the sun. “I’d talk to him if I felt I had any right. But I . . .” Her words twisted around her tongue, and she wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. “I have no intentions of being fancy on anyone, honestly I don’t.”
Ben and Marianna cast sideways glances at each other, and she could tell they were amused. Did they think she’d been attracted to his antics? Not even close. Well, at least not completely. She was just worried about Caleb. Yes, that was it. Worried about anyone who didn’t take danger seriously, who didn’t realize how one event—one day—could change everything.
The sun beamed on Caleb’s shoulders as he took a big bite of his sandwich. “Ben, did you say Marianna had a sister? I need a fraa who’s not only willing to feed me, but also all my friends.” He chuckled.
Ben brushed his hair back from his face, and it was impossible to hide his smile. “I found someone special, all right, in Marianna. But I’m sorry to say her next oldest sister just started school.”
Caleb put the sandwich down on the towel he was sitting on and began to cough. “Fifteen years, ja. I can wait.”
“Voll schpaas.” Ben chuckled. “Very funny.”
Caleb cocked his eyebrow. “Voll schpaas, ja? You’re speaking Pennsylvania Dutch now? Not bad for a popular singer from Los Angeles.”
Ben shrugged. Then he pulled out the zippered bag of cookies and passed them around. “Marianna isn’t the only one who’s made changes after our marriage. She’s had to speed up her life a little, and I’ve had to slow mine down. She’s learned about dishwashers and driving a car, and I’ve learned to tell her mem that her meals are appenditlich.”
“Ja.” Amos pointed to Ben’s stomach, which pooched out a little under his wet T-shirt. “I can tell you’ve been practicing that one plenty yet.”
Ben smiled and took another bite of cookie. “A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”
Caleb stretched out his legs in the sun, thankful for food he didn’t have to prepare or buy. Since tomorrow wasn’t a church Sunday, he had to pick up some items at the store tonight. They also had to get items for their big wagon trip on Tuesday.
“Ben, did Marianna happen to get that shopping list for us, for our wagon trip? I should get everything tonight. I don’t want to be caught by any church members filling up a shopping cart on Sunday—even if it’s an off week.”
Ben lowered his gaze, as if intent on the lettuce peeking out from his sandwich. “Actually, I have some news about that: I don’t think Marianna and I are going.”
“What?” Caleb’s jaw dropped. “But it was your and Ike’s idea.”
“I know, but there’ve been a few changes. Mari has a friend in town—from back in Indiana.”
“Is she pretty?” Amos’ eyes brightened. “You should invite her.”
“Uh, I’m not sure Rebecca would be interested in a wagon ride.” Ben cleared his throat. “But it’s more than that. Marianna doesn’t want anyone to know . . . but she’s expecting a baby.”
Caleb reached over and patted his shoulder. “That’s wonderful news!” Yet when he looked closer at Ben’s face, he could see there was a problem.
“It is good news, yes, but we’ve only been married a year and we’ve had some losses already . . .” Ben stopped there, and Caleb wasn’t going to prod.
Caleb felt sad for his friend. One of his sisters had faced the same type of struggles, and he’d seen her many tears. Yet even as he felt his mood darken, he pushed the thoughts away. It was better not to think of that loss. Of any loss. Instead he turned his mind back to the food.
“And who’ll be doing the cooking? Ike?” Caleb winced. “You’d think an older bachelor like that would have learned to cook at least a little to be able to survive living on his own all these years. I guess that’s why he’s so friendly—in order to get a lot of dinner invitations.”
Ben stroked his jaw. “Actually, we’ve got that covered. Both Annie Johnson from the store and Millie Arnold have offered to come along and cook.”
Laughter burst from Amos. “Well, Caleb, you were hoping for some ladies to come along.”
Caleb frowned. A middle-aged store owner and an elderly widow weren’t his idea of fun company. He turned to Ben. “So . . . tell me a little more about Marianna’s friend. She wouldn’t want to ride along, would she? I love Millie, but I’d rather share a seat on the wagon with someone who’s not my grandmother’s age.”
“Vell, Rebecca . . . she’s not a typical Amish woman. Marianna loves her dearly, but I’ve heard stories. Even though Rebecca was Marianna’s closest friend, Marianna said she began to wander as they got older. She smoked cigarettes and didn’t attend church often. It saddened Mari that Rebecca worked at an Englisch bakery and often spent the weekend with her Englisch friends. Marianna didn’t even want to consider what Rebecca was up to during those long weekends.”
“Maybe she’s changing.” Amos’ voice seemed hopeful. “Maybe she’s come to try to make things right.”
“Vell, she wouldn’t do that by coming to stay with her friend who just recently left the Amish.” Ben sighed. “She showed up today with just a day’s notice—headed off cross-country alone. I’m not sure where she’s headed next, but she’s not going to be one you find sitting in front of a fire on a cold winter’s night, working on her quilt frame . . .”
Ben continued, turning his attention to the menu that Annie and Millie had already planned, but Caleb’s mind hadn’t followed his words. Instead he thought of Marianna’s friend. Even though Ben’s words had been meant to discourage him, they did just the opposite. Especially the part about Rebecca heading off across the country alone. It sounded adventurous, brave. It seemed Rebecca would be someone Caleb would like to get to know.
CHAPTER
5
Rebecca couldn’t help but watch in the side mirror of the truck as Marianna drove away—just in case the bachelor climbed up that cliff and attempted it again. Not that she wanted him to try it. One wrong twist of his body, and he could seriously injure himself. In EMT class she’d read all the horror stories of such feats.
“Do you mind if we stop by my friend Susan’s house before we head home?” Marianna interrupted her thoughts. “I need to return her sewing machine. I used it to sew a few new doll dresses for Ellie’s birthday.”
Rebecca cocked an eyebrow. “An electric sewing machine?”
“Ja, and I have to say it is faster. And there was even an attachment that allowed me to make tiny little buttonholes with just one push.”
Rebecca gasped, feigning shock. “Buttons?”
Marianna shook her head. “It’s a doll dress, ja. It’s not like Mem would allow anyone in her home to wear a garment with buttons.”
Rebecca wanted to tease Marianna more, but she could tell that it bothered her. Marianna no doubt felt the condemnation of enough people that she didn’t need Rebecca jumping in—even if she was only joking.
Halfway back from the lake, they drove by a simple log home. Marianna pointed. “That’s where Mem and Dat live. They’re renting for now, and it’s a little small—especially now that the kids are getting older—but there’s this beautiful pond a bit out back, and they have the best neighbors.”
Marianna didn’t say anything about taking Rebecca to see them. Why? Rebecca had spent as much time at their house as her own during her growing-up years. She’d slept over many nights, and she and Marianna had often stayed up late dreaming of their future husb
ands and children. Rebecca folded her hands on her lap. Tension tightened in her chest.
They never would have imagined this—now. Marianna wearing plain clothes and a head covering, driving an automobile. And Rebecca in Englisch clothes, questioning when she’d ever return to their small community in Indiana. Her heart ached, and she missed the innocence of that time.
They pulled up to a large ranch, and Marianna parked the truck. There was a corral with a horse and fields that stretched out, ending in a dense forest of pine trees. An American flag waved in the wind, and the sign over the door read Carash. Rebecca held her breath, almost expecting a man to exit wearing a cowboy hat. Marianna unloaded the sewing machine from the cab and carried it to the door with Rebecca behind her.
Less than thirty seconds later, it was a woman who exited wearing western jeans and a pink flannel shirt. “Marianna? Girl, get in here. Is this your friend you were talking about?”
“Yes, Susan. Can you believe Rebecca came all this way to see me?” She handed over the sewing machine, but Susan gave it little attention. She placed the machine on the side table and then motioned them in.
“Of course she came all the way to see you. I can believe that.” Susan chuckled. “With a friend like you it’s worth every mile.” She waved both of them closer.
Rebecca immediately felt comfortable with Marianna’s friend. “You have a beautiful place here.”
“Thanks, it belonged to Dave’s parents. It’s a lot of work—caring for the cows, the horses. We lost our barn a few years ago, but thankfully the good people in this community helped us to raise a new one.”
“Really? That’s wonderful.” Rebecca had heard of the Amish having barn raisings for each other, but she’d never heard of it being done for an Englisch person. Maybe this place was different.
“Come on in, and don’t worry about kicking off your shoes at the door. I haven’t swept in two days, and any dirt that you bring in isn’t going to do a lick of harm.” Susan laughed as they entered and shook her head. “I was a city girl, you know.” She kicked off one of her boots. “If you would have told me I’d be living here, taking care of cows and horses and chickens, I wouldn’t have believed you.” She pulled off the other boot.
“Susan . . . I’ve never heard that before. That you were a city girl.”
Susan motioned to the kitchen table. Marianna and Rebecca sat, and without even asking if they were thirsty, Susan poured three large glasses of lemonade from a pitcher from the fridge.
“Oh yes, I can’t believe I haven’t told you. My father used to manage a hotel in downtown Chicago. I met Dave when some friends and I took one summer to visit as many national parks as we could, including Glacier National Park, which is right up the road. We got twenty parks under our belt, but there was only one guy who stood out. When Dave invited me back here to meet his parents, I had no idea where he was taking me. Or what I was in for. They were old-time ranchers through and through.”
“Did they accept you?” Rebecca took a sip of her lemonade, forgetting for a time that Susan was Englisch and so different from anyone she’d ever met.
“I had to play it tough,” Susan continued. “When Dave brought me home, the first thing out of his mother’s mouth was, ‘You didn’t bring home a princess, did you?’ I had no idea how to muck a stall or butcher a chicken, but that didn’t hinder me. I’m convinced that we can achieve more than we ever thought possible and succeed where others expect us to fail . . . if we just put our minds to it.” Susan barely took a breath and then turned to Rebecca, offering a warm smile. “Speaking of which, Marianna told me her Amish friend was coming, but you look as Englisch as my daughter. Is this the first stop in some grand adventure?”
“Yes, actually. I’m on my way to nursing school. Over the last few years I took Emergency Medical Technician classes and started college classes too.” Rebecca glanced at Marianna out of the corner of her eye, waiting for her response.
Marianna paused with her glass to her mouth, as if she wasn’t sure she’d heard that right. “Like . . . real college?”
Rebecca looked at her friend. “Ja, like real college.”
“But how is that possible? You don’t have your high school diploma.”
Rebecca smiled. “Actually, I do. I have all my high school credits and an Associate of Science in Nursing too.”
“But when? How? I only left one and a half years ago. Surely you couldn’t have done all that during that time.”
“I’ve been taking online classes for three years. Pam at the Shipshewana library has been helping me. I’ve only been working half time—less than half time actually. Pam lives one street over from the bakery. I’d cut through the alley and do my work on her computer.”
“I—I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were the perfect Amish woman, Marianna. You did everything right. I knew for certain you’d try to make me change my mind. Either that or you’d somehow let it slip, and before long my parents would know.”
Marianna’s fingers drummed on the table, and her jaw dropped in disbelief. “And all those weekends you went to the next community over to visit your rumspringa friends? What about that?”
“There were no other friends. I stayed with Pam, and she helped me with my papers and tests. Well, except for the weekends when I was taking an EMT class. Then I was in Elkhart with some people who opened their home to me.”
A chair leg scraped on the wooden floor, and Rebecca remembered again that they weren’t alone. When she glanced over at Susan Carash, a large grin parted the woman’s lips. “I am so proud of you!” Susan hurried to the cupboard and pulled out a large chocolate bar. “I’ve been saving this for a special occasion. More than once I had to tell my kids to keep their mitts off of it . . . I just love it when someone discovers who they are and decides to follow their dreams.”
Rebecca nodded and smiled, not knowing what else to say.
Marianna didn’t look as convinced. Her lips pressed into a tight line. “So, what did your parents say about that?”
Rebecca took a sip of lemonade and shrugged. “They don’t know. Like I told you earlier, they have no idea where I went. I kept the letter to them as simple as possible. As far as they know, I’ve left the Amish . . . and I didn’t have the heart to tell them why.”
The two other women sat silently, looking at each other as if wondering what to say to Rebecca.
Finally, Susan stood and moved to the fridge. “This seems like a time to shell peas, if you ask me.”
Rebecca cocked her head and chuckled at the woman’s comment. “Shell peas?”
Susan grabbed a large strainer filled with pea pods and placed it in the center of the table. Then she offered each of them a paper towel for the pods and a plastic bowl for the peas.
She seemed eager as they sat down, and her gaze turned back to Rebecca. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but my mother-in-law always said the words flow better when one’s hands are busy,” she said.
Sitting around the table shelling peas reminded Rebecca of the sewing circles she’d grown up going to. It was a time when Amish women came together, and as their hands worked, their stories were shared freely.
Marianna shelled a few peas and then paused and turned to her friend. “Have you been thinking about this long—thinking about leaving?” she dared to ask. The grayish color of her eyes reminded Rebecca of smoke rising from a fire. Only this time, instead of reflecting the happiness Rebecca usually saw in her friend’s gaze, they reflected sadness, betrayal.
Rebecca readjusted herself in the wooden chair. Her body ached after the long train ride. More than that, her heart ached for the betrayal Marianna felt.
“When my sister died, I felt helpless. I can’t save the world. I know that. People will get hurt. People will die, even in a community like ours. But I want to know that if I’m ever in that situation again, I can do something to help.”
“I understand that, Rebecca, but how
is that possible? Do you really think our community will welcome you home after you finish your schooling?”
“Maybe not ours . . . and maybe not another Amish community. At least I don’t think they’ll just open their homes to me. But . . . what if I can be an educator? I can teach the midwives, who can teach the women. Maybe they will learn to trust me. Maybe they’ll let me into their lives . . . eventually.”
From the look on Marianna’s face, she didn’t think the idea would work. Rebecca didn’t want to argue.
“My friend Lora is part of the Mennonite community around Goshen,” Rebecca continued. “If I lived there, it’s close enough to hear what’s happening in my family’s life without shaming them by being too close. A lot of people I know who used to be Amish are involved in the Mennonite church there. Maybe I can start educating them.”
“All of us need to be better educated.” It was Susan who’d piped up this time. Her paper towel had double the amount of empty shells that Rebecca’s or Marianna’s had. Then again, Susan’s mind was on only one thing. Susan chuckled. “It’s not that we ever get too much learning, and it seems that as we plan to teach others, God often makes us the pupil first, just so we get the lesson real deep within before we try to share it.”
Marianna sighed. “And then, even when we think we’ve learned the lesson, God reminds us that we’re just first-grade students in this thing called life.” She reached over and patted Rebecca’s hand. “I’m worried about you leaving everything like that. Maybe because I know how hard it’s been for me, and even how hard it’s been for Ben.” Marianna’s voice trembled. “One moment I know I’ve made the right decision, and five minutes later I question myself on why I did what I did. And with you . . . it’s not too late. You can get back on that train. You can return to that life. Things can be the same.”
Susan didn’t say anything then. How could an Englischer ever understand? She couldn’t, and Susan must have realized that when she rose and mumbled something about forgetting to check the mail before hurrying out the front door.
