by Tricia Goyer
“Good, because I have one to share. I started dating my husband when I was twenty-one years old. Kids always made a big deal of that birthday, but my mind wasn’t on experiencing life with friends. Instead I focused it on one man. Every night I prayed for my future husband, and deep down I hoped it was Donald.
“Donald was on the football team at my small community college. I’d often see him wearing his jersey around campus. We didn’t have a great team, and they hadn’t won very many games, but Donald didn’t seem to mind. I liked that about him. He was the type of person who would give his all no matter what he did.
“We were in one class together, and we were allowed to sit wherever we liked. Most people had their own seats, their territory. I found myself moving seat by seat by seat—one seat closer to him every class time. Soon he was just a row in front of me, and I tried to strike up a conversation. Finally, one day he looked at me and smiled. I later found out it was because I had ink on my cheek from my pen, but I didn’t know it. I started talking about Shakespeare, which I knew he enjoyed because of some of the class discussions we’d had. Come to find out, he’d only claimed to enjoy Shakespeare to get on the teacher’s favorite list. But a few weeks later Donald felt so bad about his deception that he confessed it to the teacher.”
Caleb chuckled.
“Hanging out with him, Donald worked his magic and got on my favorite list too. Things moved fast once he noticed me, and the more I got to know him, the more I respected him. I should have guessed that someone that honest and idealistic would make a dumb decision because he felt it was honorable . . .” Millie paused and turned to Caleb. “Do you know what idealistic is?”
“Ja, I did go to school.”
“Yes, but only to eighth grade, and in my mind idealistic is a high school word.” Millie chuckled.
“And the dumb decision?”
“Everyone around us was talking about the military. It was on the radio and on everyone’s mind at school.”
“Was that World War II?”
Millie’s mouth fell open. She fixed her eyes on Caleb, and then she picked up her hat from the bench and whacked him with it. “How old do you think I am, son? I’m talking about Vietnam.”
The horses whinnied, as if giving their approval.
“Sorry, Millie. You’re right. That eighth-grade education is lacking sometimes.”
Was Millie going to have a point to this story? Did she ever have a point?
“I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that I don’t have a point—that I’m just flapping my gums. But there is a point.” She looked at him and pursed her lips. “I have not always agreed with Donald’s decisions. When he joined the military, I thought he was a goner for sure. I was a total mess until he got home.
“But it wasn’t like things were perfect after that. There were things that annoyed me about him. There were things I nagged him about until the day he died. For instance, he’d set the alarm for six o’clock in the morning, but he kept hitting the snooze alarm until seven. No matter how many times I’d tell him, ‘Donald, you don’t get up until seven o’clock! Don’t set the alarm until then,’ he kept setting it for the same time.” Millie crossed her arms. “He had good intentions, but no morning resolve. He never listened.” Millie lowered her head, and her voice softened. “No, he never listened.”
“Sounds like something I’d do . . . So, what happened to him, Millie?”
“He died in a logging accident. Old fool—he shouldn’t have been out there with all those young bucks. One morning he left with his coffee thermos and a smile, and a few hours later he was gone. Of course, it didn’t seem real until the next morning.” Her words caught in her throat. “At six o’clock . . . well, that alarm went blaring off, and at that moment I would have done anything, given anything, to have that fool lying by me, hitting the snooze and then falling back asleep. Even all these years later I still haven’t been able to change that alarm. It wakes me up—losing Donald woke me up—and when I hear its blaring, I start praying. I pray that God will give me a truly thankful heart. I pray that I won’t take anyone—or any of God’s good gifts—for granted.”
“I hear what you’re saying, Millie, but Rebecca lied to me. She put on Amish clothes when her intention this whole time has been to go to nursing school.”
“Yes, yes, she did lie.” Millie nodded. “And if I were you, I’d take that as a compliment.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Not at all. That girl’s mind was set. Her eyes were fixed on leaving her Amish ways behind and then going to nursing school. But something caused her to pause.” Millie cleared her throat. “Or should I say someone.”
Caleb removed his hat and set it on the wagon bench, and then he scratched his head.
“Sometimes we believe what we think is right is what is right,” Millie said. “We believe that if we’re bothered by something, it’s justified, but when we really take time and think about what we deserve—well, the minor interruptions don’t matter. You don’t deserve love, Caleb. I didn’t either. No one does. We’re all failures when it comes to living selflessly, but that doesn’t mean that sometimes love doesn’t come and surprise us. It’s a gift from God, I think.
“You’ve already been chosen,” Millie continued. “First you were chosen by God. And then you were chosen by a young woman whose heart is bigger than the weight of her. You were chosen to be given a chance. And no, Rebecca didn’t do everything right, but none of us do.”
Millie reached over and flicked the side of Caleb’s head. It stung and he winced. “Hey, what was that for?”
“Consider that your wake-up call, son. And next time I won’t be so gentle.”
Millie sat quietly after that, which was making even more of a statement. Millie wanted him to think. Really think. And she wasn’t going to let him off easy.
It took the alarm story for Caleb to realize that he was being dumm. He’d needed that wake-up call, and he was thankful Millie was here to give it to him. He shuddered to think of how he’d almost thrown in the towel on someone he’d grown to care about, for the mere fact that his pride was hurt. Rebecca had lied, but he hadn’t always been truthful, had he? She still didn’t know about everything. What would Rebecca do if she knew he’d abandoned his responsibilities in Ohio? She might have thought twice about coming on this trip, about befriending him.
The ride was quiet, and when they parked the wagon for lunch, Caleb turned to Millie. “I’ve been a fool, Millie.”
She reached over and patted his hand. “Yes, and now that we both agree, I think there’s someone you need to talk to.” Millie pointed, and Caleb followed her gaze. Amos was offering Rebecca a hand as she climbed down from the wagon.
Caleb jumped down and jogged her direction, but before he got to her, he paused, noticing tears in her eyes. What had Rebecca and Annie been talking about? Seeing that, Caleb backed away. She was probably crying about him—how he’d treated her. He didn’t blame her. Instead of walking up to her, Caleb turned to Ike.
“Do you need help with anything?” he called.
Rebecca sat in her tent with tears sliding down her cheeks. She rubbed her eyes, wondering how yesterday’s perfect day with Caleb had turned into one of the worst of her life. The only thing she’d been thankful for was that she’d been able to ride in the wagon with Annie and talk with her. Maybe it was the fact that Annie knew Rebecca wasn’t going to stay around the West Kootenai area long that she told Rebecca the truth about Robert’s death and how he’d been killed in a motorcycle accident. Annie had cried as she’d told her, and Rebecca couldn’t help but cry too. It seemed a shame that someone died who’d had so much potential . . . just like Claudia.
The pain in her heart was heavy, and as she sat there, Rebecca remembered what Millie had said. Rebecca zipped open her suitcase. She didn’t have a box that she could tuck prayers into, but she did have the secret compartment in her suitcase that still had room.
She pulled out o
ne of her notebooks she’d had for school and tore out a few blank pages. Then she tore those into little pieces and began writing.
Lord, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with these feelings for Caleb. Show me.
Dear God, Annie is afraid to love again. Soften her heart, and give her wisdom over what to do with Ike’s being Amish.
God, please help Marianna’s boppli to stick. Rebecca had stolen that prayer request from Millie, but she couldn’t think of a better way to put it.
Lord, when I get to civilization, give me the courage to call home. I know I shouldn’t have left like that. Help me to be brave and to tell the truth.
As she wrote each one, she tucked it into the secret spot. With each one she tucked, she made it a point to picture herself lifting her hands to God, offering up her worries.
Outside the tent she heard voices, and she knew that she couldn’t hide away for long. If anything, that was one thing she’d discovered on this journey: one couldn’t hide away in a small group of people. It was easy to be missed. Not that she minded. If anything, it had caused Rebecca to look at herself in ways she never had before.
CHAPTER
20
They’d had a quiet dinner, each one lost in his or her own thoughts, it seemed. Ike and Amos built a fire, and just as Rebecca was going to find a log to roll in front of it for a seat, Caleb asked if she wanted to go for a walk. She joined him, wondering if she was going to get another talking-to. Instead Caleb’s demeanor was hesitant, and his voice was gentle as he spoke.
“I’ve been talking to Millie.”
Rebecca wrapped her arms around herself. “Well, I’d like to think so. I can’t imagine you’d be riding along with her for any length of time without having a good conversation.”
“I’m only going to tell you this once, Rebecca. I’ve been a fool. Ja, I’m upset because you lied to me, but Millie told me I should be impressed that you should think so much of me that you’d put up such a hoax.”
“Oh, it’s a hoax now?”
“Well, okay, maybe that’s a strong word, but you have to tell me . . . Why did you do it? Why did you decide to wear your Amish clothes again? Why did you want to kumme along?”
“Vell, it was hard leaving everything at once—my family and friends, my clothes and my culture. I didn’t know how to be Englisch. I thought it would bring freedom not having my Amish clothes with me, but the opposite is true. Freedom is being comfortable in the clothes you’re in.”
“And I had nothing to do with it?”
She glanced up at him and wrinkled her nose. “Vell, maybe just a little.”
“So do you want to tell me more . . . about nursing school?” He paused, and she turned to him. “I want to listen,” he said.
Rebecca blushed but her gaze held steady. “It seems silly to me whenever I talk about it. I have no special talents, and my community and beliefs tell me that this is not an occupation I need to pursue, but the idea that I could help someone—even one person—fuels me. And I know that when I help one person, I’m helping their whole family too. All of us were affected by Claudia’s death. I just think if I don’t do this, if I don’t pursue it, I’ll always regret it. If I ever have the chance to help another person and I can’t . . . Well, that seems even more tragic than Claudia’s death.”
They walked together in the sun. The forest was thinner here, and it looked as if it had been logged in recent years. Her dat had once told her that cutting out the scraggly trees gave the good ones more room, more light. And it had taken getting away from Indiana—all the people, concerns, and distractions—to really start considering not just what she wanted to do with her life, but who she wanted in it.
“I’ve always wanted something like that—a passion, a mission.” He spoke solemnly. “I’m jealous for it. I’ve never had something that’s completely grabbed ahold of my heart, and seeing that in you has made me care more, not less. You were afraid of telling me the truth, but the truth is who you are. And maybe you had reason to be afraid. I didn’t handle things well, and I’m sorry. But Millie talked some sense into me. She even gave me a good thump on the side of my head. I’ve been a fool for putting thoughts of myself above thoughts of you, Rebecca. I want to know all of you. I want to know more.”
They returned to their walking, and Rebecca told herself to enjoy this moment. To soak in the beauty. To soak in Caleb being next to her. To get over being mad, hurt.
The woods were littered with dead leaves, decaying pinecones. They stepped over logs and walked around bushes. The sky was a brighter blue than it had been, and every now and then Rebecca would see a spot of color—the pink of a wild rose, the red of Indian paintbrush, white daisies tiny and delicate. And then the trees bunched up again, branches stretched down, and they stepped into the arms of shade. She walked over ground splotchy with patches of shade and light. What would happen next? What would become of them? When their wagon train ended, they’d be heading two separate ways.
Her attention shifted to Caleb, and she watched him stride beside her as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Concern tightened her throat—concern that she’d be a burden. That if anything grew between them it would narrow his future. After all, an Amishman could not love her without consequences.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say to you. It hurts my brain just thinking about where we can go from here,” she finally said.
“Then stop thinking about it. Can you just enjoy the moment, Rebecca, without having to try to figure everything out?”
She sat on the closest fallen tree and then lowered her gaze. “Ja, I suppose so.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I’m just happy that you asked me to walk with you. I’m thankful that you listened to Millie.”
“You’re not acting like you’re happy.”
“I am, very much.”
“May I sit beside you?”
“Ja, of course.”
He sat close. Close enough that their legs nearly touched.
“I talked to Annie this morning. She still doesn’t think it’s right that she ask Ike to leave the Amish.” Rebecca didn’t tell him what else they talked about—about Robert’s death.
He took her hand. “Let’s not talk about Annie, or Ike. Is that fine? At least for a few minutes.”
His hand squeezed hers tighter and then pulled it toward him. He leaned forward and kissed the top of it. She’d kissed three boys on the lips before, all Englisch and all trouble, but none of those kisses caused her heart to pound like it did now.
She reached up with her free hand and touched his cheek, noticing how smooth it was from his morning shave and picturing a beard—a beard that would grow after their wedding, telling the world he belonged to her. Rebecca shook her head slightly. No, that was the Amish way. If she were—if they were—Englisch, there’d be no reason for him to grow a beard.
Even though it made sense, something pinched her heart at the thought of it.
“Caleb,” she said softly.
He lifted his head and their eyes met.
“I don’t want you to think I pushed you into this. That I spilled my heart so that you’d be forced to respond. That you’d have to make wild statements—”
He scooted closer. “And you think you’re the one pushing me into this?”
His breath caressed her cheek, spreading warmth from her chest through her limbs.
“You don’t think, Rebecca, that I’ve thought about this? That as we rode along over the last few days I didn’t consider what it would be like to kiss you—to tell you that I think you’re beautiful and I’ve never known anyone like you?”
Heat rose to her cheeks. “That’s how the Englisch talk.”
“Vell, I guarantee that’s how many Amishmen feel. They just don’t have the nerve to tell the women they’re falling for. Instead they just stare at them over the fire at a Youth Singing, or they offer to drive them home and ask for a date. I’ve never been like that. I�
��ve never been one to hold back.” Caleb cleared his throat. “Believe me, I have a lot more to say too—”
The sound of footsteps and voices coming through the woods interrupted his words, and without hesitation he pulled back. She dropped her fingers from his cheek, and he released her hand. Passion heated his gaze, and she smiled. His words were braver than his actions.
Voices drifted to them, and footsteps crunched pinecones. Caleb scooted over, putting a few more inches between them, yet that did little to settle the stirring of her heart.
Caleb cleared his throat. “We better head back.”
Rebecca nodded and rose. She adjusted her kapp, wondering if she should even wear it now. It wasn’t as if she was fooling anyone. Maybe if she did dress in Englisch clothes, Caleb would understand—really understand—what he was getting himself into. As long as she wore Amish clothes and acted like she always had, he wouldn’t see her as who she was now—or at least who she was in the process of becoming.
On their walk back they met Annie and Millie.
“We thought about heading up to the lake that’s just over those hills, but Ike thinks we should hang around another day and attempt that tomorrow,” Millie said. “It wouldn’t be fun to get stuck hiking around these mountains in the dark.”
“So instead, we were hoping to find some wild mushrooms. They would add flavor to the rice for tomorrow’s dinner,” Annie added. “But we’re not having any luck.”
“I’m not sure if I’d eat a wild mushroom.” Caleb wrinkled his nose. “Mushrooms haven’t been a favorite.”
“Oh, so you’re going to be picky about my cooking now, are you?” Annie chuckled. “Let’s see if you’ll have a log to sit on tonight . . . and a tin plate to eat from.”
“Maybe it’s the fact that I’m the only boy in a family of girls. I was a bit spoiled, although my mem would never admit it. My opa and oma lived with us, and whenever there was something I didn’t like, Opa would say, ‘Gertie, he’s big and strong without eating that.’ I got away with too much, I think.”
