by Tricia Goyer
Caleb turned to her, fixing his eyes on hers. Was he wondering about her? Why had she come here? Where was she going? She looked back to the front, watching the swooshing of the horses’ tails and waiting for the questions.
Instead Caleb cleared his throat. “It does this community no good when people come here with the true motives of leaving the Amish community and becoming Englisch. It just makes it harder for the devoted Amish men and women who want to stay Amish and try to live as dedicated lives as they do back east. I’m sure you won’t meet them, though, as many of them have put some distance between themselves and Marianna.”
“I’m sure it’s hard for everyone to try to figure out who they are apart from the community they grew up in. Change is never easy.” Her gut ached. Should she just tell Caleb now? Should she let him know that within a matter of weeks she’d be leaving West Kootenai to go to college and live for a time in the Englisch world?
Up ahead the other two wagons had veered off the main road and were crossing a small bridge. There was a lovely creek, and she breathed out a sigh that the other wagons were rounding the bend and going out of view. Even though they couldn’t hear this conversation, she felt better about spilling the truth to Caleb without having to think of them.
Her hands quivered and she pushed them against her lap, straightening her shoulders as she did. “Caleb, I’m not sure what you heard about me from Ben or whoever, but—”
“Look!” Caleb’s low call interrupted her thoughts. The wagon pulled up to the bridge, and Caleb pointed up the stream. There was a crook in the river, and a portion of it was hidden by tall pines. From behind that crook two moose strolled out—a mother and her baby.
A gasp escaped Rebecca’s lips and she held in her squeal. Caleb stopped the wagon, and the horses stamped the ground and looked ahead, as if not wanting to be left behind.
The female moose was dark brown, almost black. Her ears were large and perked up. Her nose was longer than a horse’s, with a curved bump on the end. She bent down to the water for a drink, and Rebecca held her breath, hoping their presence didn’t scare her away. The calf stood by her side, hardly any taller than her mother’s knee. It was lighter brown in color and looked like a mix between a fawn and a pony. As its mother drank, it watched the wagon, staring with wide-eyed wonder.
“I can’t believe it . . .” Caleb’s words were no more than a whisper. “Do you have a camera?”
Rebecca didn’t know how to answer. Was this a test? The moose took one step backward, and she realized she shouldn’t worry about his opinion of her having a camera. She wanted a photo to send back home. Her brothers and sisters would get a kick out of that, especially Claude.
“Ja, I do, but it’s in my suitcase.”
Caleb started to rise. “I can get it—”
“No!” Her heart leapt into her throat as she pictured what Caleb would see if he unzipped her suitcase and looked inside. He’d see her Englisch clothes. He’d see her nursing books that she’d packed. If she was going to tell him, she’d do it her own way, not by having Caleb eye her Hoosier sweatshirt with a curious look.
A sheepish look came over Caleb’s face. “I was going to say I can get it down for you, if that’ll help.”
“Actually, I think I can reach in and get it.” Her neck grew hot. Her hands became sweaty and she pressed them together. “I’ll do it. No need for you to get down.” Rebecca stepped down from the wagon.
As quietly as she could, she moved to the back of the wagon. The moose calf’s ears twitched, but neither moved. As she approached the back of the wagon, Rebecca looked back to see Caleb’s eyes on her. And for the moment she almost felt as if she were detached from the person she’d been for the last few years. She hadn’t let anyone get close. Hadn’t let anyone study her, watch her. She felt vulnerable and out of breath, as if she were sinking underwater without the strength to pull herself up. Yet if this was what opening up felt like, she knew why she’d kept everyone at bay. She could get used to this feeling of being close to someone else. And that was a problem for one whose mind was set on doing her own thing.
She reached into the back of the wagon, unzipped the top of her suitcase, and pulled out the camera. With more quiet steps she made her way back to the front of the wagon. Instead of offering a hand or helping her up, Caleb climbed down. She lifted the camera to turn it on, and her breath escaped.
“Oh no . . .”
“What’s wrong?”
“I left the camera on and drained the batteries . . . and I didn’t bring extras.” She turned to him, realizing for the first time how close he stood to her. “You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?”
Caleb chuckled and put both hands into his pockets. “Nope. Not today. I can’t say that was on my packing list.”
“Vell, I do have my cell phone, uh, that I only used for my boss at work to get ahold of me . . . well, mostly.” Even as she said those words, she realized she’d never grabbed it from where she’d plugged it in on the bathroom vanity. Not that she’d been using it; she hadn’t checked the phone or text messages since she’d gotten off the train—not that she expected to have many if any at all. Only Lora and a few others even knew she had a phone. “No . . . Oh no. I left my cell phone at Marianna’s house too.”
“Too bad. It is a beautiful scene.” His voice was soft, and it comforted her in a way she hadn’t expected.
“I can’t believe it.” She dropped her hand to her side. “I’m never going to see something like this again in my whole life,” she whispered.
“You’re right. But you still have your memory. And I have a feeling you won’t soon forget.”
Caleb stepped behind her. His hands moved to her shoulders, and he gently touched her. “Take it in, Rebecca. Do you smell the pine and the stream? The air is warm, isn’t it? And look: amazing creatures. Most people will never see this.” His breath was warm on her ear. “It’s almost as if the moment was created here, now, for us.”
Caleb didn’t mention God, but he didn’t have to. The sun beamed down on her, and it was almost as if God had joined them, too, urging her to pause and bask in His creation. Her chest filled with heat, warmth. She let her eyes flutter closed—the sun warm on her face. What had she done to deserve being here? What had she done to deserve having this moment when she’d just walked away from the people and community who cared for her most?
“I have a feeling we’re going to be friends after this.” Caleb dropped his hands. Then he stepped forward, until he stood next to her again. “And the truth is, while you were gazing at that river, those trees, and that moose, I was lookin’ at an even prettier scene.”
“Caleb.” Her throat was tight, and she had to force her words out. “You shouldn’t talk like that. You act as if you’re Englisch or something. I’ve never heard of such a thing in my life as an Amishman saying such fancy words.”
“Vell, I’m glad I don’t have competition, but the truth is I’ve never said anything before like what’s coming out of my mouth. It’s just fitting, that’s all. But . . .” His finger shot into the air. “If you ever try to tell anyone that I have a soft side, I’m going to tie you up to a tree, pour honey on you, and wait for the bears to come.”
Rebecca mocked horror. “You will? That sounds awful.” She turned, stepped away from him, and climbed up into the wagon. “But, Caleb, having a soft side isn’t a bad thing. Women like it.”
“You like it, maybe. Most of the Amish women I know wouldn’t give me the time of day with talk like that. They would think that anything beyond a day’s work is foolish. A waste of time.”
With those words a flash of pain crossed his face. He moved around the horses to the other side and climbed into the wagon seat. What had she said? What had she done wrong? Because the gentle Caleb who’d been standing beside her just a minute before was nowhere to be seen as he flipped the reins and signaled for the horses to resume.
“I hope they’re not too far ahead.” He fixed his gaze on
the dirt logging road. “I want to make sure we get there for lunch. Ike said we weren’t going too far today.”
“Um, there’s a problem with that.” Rebecca glanced over her shoulder. “We’re the ones with all the food.”
Caleb moaned and then flicked the reins, encouraging the horses to pick up the pace. “Then we better get going. My stomach is already growling, and I don’t want to keep Annie and Millie from making up some good grub.”
Rebecca held the useless camera on her lap and wished she could ask him about the change in his attitude. Then again, did it matter? Even though her chest still felt warm from the gentle, thoughtful Caleb of a few minutes ago, it wouldn’t change things. Rebecca focused ahead, reminding herself of where she needed to set her sights. It would be too easy to push her plans to the side if her heart got in the way. Then how could she live with herself? It was hard enough knowing that if she’d had just a little bit more knowledge, she could have saved her sister.
CHAPTER
11
By the time they’d caught up with the others, Ike had already built a small fire. Rebecca helped Caleb unhitch the horses and was surprised when he took them to a small, high mountain pasture and released them.
“Aren’t you going to tether them?” she asked, stroking the side of the beautiful sorrel named Lily.
“No, they won’t wander far.” Caleb hooked his thumbs through his suspenders. “There’s a nice stream over there and lush grass. They’ll be able to graze and drink as needed.”
Rebecca and Caleb washed up in the stream and then found their way to camp. Ike had already unloaded the large tub of cooking gear, and Annie was rummaging around through the cooler.
“I know I should have packed sandwiches or something for the first day, but I had too much fun looking through my campfire cookbook,” Annie chuckled. “We’re a few miles less than we’d planned the first day, but this seems like a nice spot. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Nope,” Caleb answered. “It does look like a beautiful place. Let me know what you need.”
“What I need is that bin with those dry goods. And the one under it has a few more cooking pots. Also”—she glanced up at them— “do you think you could find some fresh huckleberries? I’d love to have some for tomorrow’s pancakes.”
“Huckleberries!” Caleb removed his hat and scratched his head. “I’d be surprised to find them. Usually the bears pick them clean.”
Rebecca eyed him and then clutched her elbows. “Bears? You’re joking.”
“Do you think so?”
“No, but that’s the problem.” She eyed the woods behind them. “I didn’t even think those were real berries. Are they good?”
Annie turned to Rebecca. “If you’re scared, then Millie can go with you. After all, it’ll give the rest of us time to set up our tents.” She glanced at Caleb. “You will stay and help Ike with those, won’t you?”
The disappointment on Caleb’s face was clear. Then he eyed Amos. “Ja . . . and without a doubt I can put a tent up faster than him.” He pointed to his friend.
The sound of movement in the trees startled Rebecca, and her heartbeat quickened its pace. The older lady was emerging from the woods with a handful of small sticks for the fire. “Did I hear someone calling my name?”
“Yes, we were talking about you, Millie. It seems Rebecca here has never seen or tasted a huckleberry.”
“Well, that’s a shame. I think we need to do something about it.” Millie dropped her pile of sticks next to the campfire pit and headed back into the woods. Rebecca had no choice but to join her. She tried not to hide her disappointment. Why was she so sad that she wasn’t hiking around these woods with Caleb? They were only friends, right?
Millie slowed her pace and allowed Rebecca to catch up. Except for the muted voices behind them, the woods were silent. The air smelled musty, like dirt and earth. Her feet crunched on pinecones that littered the ground. Last year’s leaves were partially decomposed and lay like a carpet.
Millie didn’t say much, but she pointed out signs of life that Rebecca would have missed. A squirrel high in a tree. A cluster of mushrooms at the base of a stump. Wild roses blooming at the base of a hill.
When Millie started heading up the hill, Rebecca paused. “Uh, don’t you think we should stay close to camp? I don’t want to get lost. Or if there was a bear . . .”
Millie paused and looked back. “Only to the top of this hill. I can still hear Annie’s laughter, which means we’re not too far. I promise.”
“Have you been here before?”
Millie shook her head. “No, but I know how these forests work.” She removed the red handkerchief from around her neck and wiped her brow. “I’ve been picking huckleberries a long time. They like acidic mountain soil and north-facing hillsides most.” She pointed. “See those trees? Pine, larch, spruce? Huckleberries like to hang out with those.”
They trudged their way up the mountainside. Well, Rebecca was the one trudging along. Even though Millie was more than twice her age, she had no problem. Rebecca’s legs burned. Her chest felt heavy. She struggled for breath, which surprised her.
“I can’t—can’t be—lieve how out of shape I am.”
Millie glanced back over her shoulder. “It’s probably the high altitude too. Most people aren’t used to it. We’re about four thousand feet here.”
Rebecca paused, attempting to catch her breath. She put her hand on her hip, wishing the burning would stop. “That makes me feel a little better,” she managed to say.
She continued on, and when she got to the top, she found Millie standing next to a cluster of bushes. Rebecca gasped. A few of them had small blackish-purple berries. “Are those huckleberries?”
Millie nodded. She pointed to a few of the branches that were bent or snapped off. “Yes, and it looks like it’s been raided in the last few days. My guess is that the bear ate his fill and moved on, but we shouldn’t dawdle, just in case.”
Rebecca eyed the forest. She didn’t see any large bearlike shapes, nor hear any crashing sounds, but that didn’t keep her heart from pounding. Millie pulled a small plastic bag from her back pocket.
“Ach, good, I was wondering what we were going to put the berries in.”
Millie chuckled. “I was a rancher’s wife for fifty years. I’ve learned to always keep a folded-up bag in my back pocket, a bit of twine in my front pocket, and a knife in my boot.”
“That’s gut.” Rebecca moved as quickly as she could, plucking off berries and dropping them in the bag. “I’m thankful for that knife . . . to fend off the bear.”
Millie looked up at her, eyes wide, as if checking to see if Rebecca was serious.
Rebecca winked.
Millie chuckled. “Yes, if that’s the case and I do have to face a bear, then I’m glad I have you here. If one takes on a bear with a pocketknife, she’s gonna need a nurse.”
“Nurse?” Rebecca’s stomach lurched. Her strength drained from her legs, and she sank into a kneeling position—her skirt and apron pressing into the damp ground.
“Yes, a nurse. That’s what you’ve been going to school for, isn’t it?”
Rebecca’s mouth circled into an O. “How did you know?”
“Was I not supposed to know? You seem surprised.”
“Well, I wasn’t telling too many people. In fact, my parents don’t even know. I haven’t the nerve to tell them the truth.”
“I heard from Susan Carash. She’s caring for my horses when I’m gone, and she happened to mention it.”
“Ach, I see.”
“Are you trying to hide the fact that you’re going to be starting college next month? Are you saying Caleb doesn’t know?”
“Well, I haven’t really said anything. I mean we’re just new friends, and I have a feeling that if I did mention it, he would think I’d want his input, or I’m trying to include him in my plans for the future.”
Millie cocked her head and looked more intensely into Rebecc
a’s eyes. “So you’re not sweet on him?”
“I think he’s really nice.” Rebecca looked down on her lap where a huckleberry had dropped, hoping Millie believed that was all she felt. But the truth was she’d enjoyed the day, and more than once—as they were riding along—she’d imagined what it would be like to sit by Caleb’s side more often.
“I can see on your face that you’re starting to have feelings. If there’s anything to that, then you know what you need to do.”
Rebecca lifted her gaze again and resumed her plucking. After she dropped a few dozen berries into the bag, she tossed a few more into her mouth. She bit down, and the firmness of the skin gave way to a juice that tasted like a mix of grapes and blueberries. Sweetness filled her mouth, but it still didn’t dissolve the tension in her stomach. “No wonder the bears love them.”
“The truth is sweet too.” Millie’s words were spoken like those of a tender mother to her child.
“I will tell him. When the time is right. It’s not like I planned for any of this to happen. I’d just been planning to go straight to Portland and begin my new life.”
“Well, it seems like God had another plan.” Millie rose and lifted the bag, which was a quarter full of berries. “This is enough for pancakes, don’t you think? We’ll leave the rest for the bears. They’ll need them to get plumped up for the winter.”
Rebecca stood, plucked off a few more berries and popped them into her mouth, then followed Millie back down the hill—her feet stepping into Millie’s footprints to ensure good footing.
“You got more than you bargained for, that’s for sure.”
“I agree . . . I think everyone will be pleased with our bounty.”
“No.” Millie picked up a few small pinecones and held them in her hand. “I’m not talking about the huckleberries. You came to Montana to see Marianna, and you ended up with all of us. Now here you’re on a trip, and you’re going to be able to see one of my favorite places—Kootenai Falls and the swinging bridge.”
