by Tricia Goyer
One by one the others went to sleep until it was just Rebecca and Caleb sitting before the fire.
“It’s been a good journey, and then we have the trip home,” Caleb said. “More time to talk—at least a few more days until you head to Portland.”
“What then?” Rebecca picked up small stones and lined them up in a straight line on her jeans. She had to do something to keep her mind occupied rather than looking into Caleb’s handsome face. Every time she did, joy fought against sadness. They cared for each other, that was true, but they wouldn’t be able to be together . . . not with her in Portland and him here in Montana.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
“I was trying to think of when I’ll be able to see you again. Maybe during the Christmas holiday I can ride the train back here. If I can find some type of part-time job, that is. Right now I barely have enough money to live on.” She didn’t tell him about where that money had come from. She hadn’t told anyone about it.
“What about letters . . . until we see each other? I’m not much for writing, but I can learn.”
“Ja, but can they carry us through the span of years?”
Caleb’s eyes widened. “Years? I don’t want to wait that long.”
“That’s how long nursing school takes.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t like that at all. I don’t know how I’ll be able to deal with you so far away. But I’ve never felt so alive. I’ve never shared so much of my heart.”
“It’s the fresh mountain air.” Her voice was no more than a whisper. Then she chuckled. “And you’ll still have that after I’m gone.” She brushed the rocks from her legs with one swoop, and then she looked at him. “Just breathe deeply.”
“If you’re going to use that excuse, then I can blame that very same air on making me do this.”
The touch of Caleb’s hand on her cheek made her stomach feel as fluid as Mem’s plum jam before it set up. He scooted closer, but a knot in the log they were sitting on still kept him too far to lean forward for a kiss. She told herself not to lean forward. She told herself she’d regret it and she didn’t want to hurt him. But there was love, real love, that radiated from Caleb’s gaze. And for the first time in years—more years than she could count—she wanted to let herself feel it.
Rebecca leaned forward and allowed him to offer her a quick peck. Their lips barely touched before she pulled back. She wanted him to hold her. She wanted to cuddle in his embrace, but for the first time in a long time, Rebecca tried to think of someone else besides herself. Getting too close physically would just make it harder when they parted. It would also make it harder to hold back in the future. For now one soft kiss was enough. Caleb could read the rest of her care just by looking into her eyes.
Rebecca could tell that the clerk from Mac’s Market wasn’t expecting three wagons to pull up during the a.m. shift. That morning had been the worst part of the journey so far. They’d moved from old logging roads onto the paved two-lane road, and while people in Indiana were used to seeing buggies and wagons on the road, they seemed to distract the tourists in this part of Montana. Even worse were those cars that slowed way down to take a picture. Seeing them, Rebecca was thankful she wasn’t in Amish dress.
The clerk watched them through the window. Her eyes widened as the three wagons pulled up and parked.
Amos jumped down from the wagon and waved. “What would she do if we went in and told her we need her to fill up our rigs?” The others chuckled.
But while the others also felt satisfied that they’d made it through half of their journey, a sinking feeling rested in Rebecca’s gut. Being at the gas station told her one thing: that they’d have cell service. And that meant it was time to call home.
She used the restroom, thankful to have access to a toilet again, and then approached Annie, who was filling up a fountain drink.
“Annie, can I borrow your, uh, cell phone?”
Annie didn’t ask any questions and Rebecca was thankful.
Rebecca went outside and rounded the side of the building, then dialed the number to her parents’ phone that they kept outside in a phone shack near the road. The phone was supposed to be just for emergencies—they’d put it in after Claudia’s death—but Mem often went out and checked the messages as soon as she heard it ring. The phone was off limits to the younger kids, especially Claude—lest they get too accustomed to having it and decide to put one in their own homes someday.
The phone rang three times, and then the answering machine picked up.
“Mem, this is Rebecca. I am sorry I left and didn’t tell you my plans. The letter explained some, Mem, but there is so much more to tell you. I’m . . . I am sure you are worried. There is a cell phone you can call, if you’d like to reach me.” She left Annie’s number. When she looked up, Caleb stood at the corner of the building, watching.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“If anyone’s home they’ll call back right away. My brothers should be doing chores about this time. They can always hear the phone from the barn. They race to get Mem to tell her about the message. They can even make calls for emergencies.”
Sure enough, less than four minutes later Annie’s phone rang.
Rebecca’s fingers trembled slightly as she answered. “Ja?”
“Rebecca?” Even though her brother Isaiah was twelve years old, his voice over the phone sounded much younger. “Did you run away? Dat said you did.”
She cleared her throat, wondering what else her dat had said. “I left . . . for a while. Is Mem there?”
“Ne.”
“Dat?”
“Ne. They are both gone. They went on the train . . . to look for you.”
Rebecca’s jaw dropped open. In a month of Sundays she never expected those words from his mouth.
“But where did they go?”
“Montana.”
“And how did they find out where I am?”
“Someone from our district has a cousin. Or maybe a bruder there in Montana . . .” Isaiah’s voice faded. “Do ya want to talk to Aenti Diana? She’s here.”
“Ja.” She blew out a low breath. While Mem and Dat were quiet in nature, her aenti was anything but.
“So Adam’s Betty says yer in Montana.” Her aunt’s voice rattled on as if she was chatting about the weather.
“Ja. That’s right. I was calling to apologize. I’d written a letter. I don’t know if they got it. Aenti . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for them to worry.” Rebecca felt ten again. The tenseness radiating through her reminded her of when she’d dropped her aunt’s seeds and gotten them mixed up. Even though she’d hidden the truth, it had been found out when the radishes started popping up with the green beans, and vice versa.
“It’s Oma’s fault.” Her aunt tsk-tsked.
“What?” Rebecca’s jaw dropped. “What did you say?”
She could hear her aenti’s sigh even over the phone line. “If she hadn’t let you have those dreams of becoming a nurse . . . if she hadn’t given you that money, why, this never would have happened.”
“But, Aenti, how did you know?”
Caleb’s eyes, filled with concern, watched her as she spoke. He placed a hand on her shoulder, most likely for support, but it was making her nervous to have him there as she tried to figure out how her aenti had known about the money, about the schooling.
“She was my mem, and she lived with me. And she was a talker. Do you think she could have kept that a secret?”
Rebecca gasped. “But why didn’t you say anything?”
“Who am I to talk? I saw what Claudia’s death did to you. After that, I never expected you to stay. I hoped, but I didn’t expect it. I just never thought you’d go so far.”
“And Mem and Dat?”
“They went to Montana just like Isaiah said. They went to stay with your friend Marianna. They got her number from Naomi and made the call.”
Rebecca
leaned her back against the cold concrete of the gas station. “Danki, then. I’m sure I’ll see them soon. It was gut to hear your voice, Aenti, but I do have to go.”
“Rebecca . . .” Her aenti’s voice drew her back.
“What?”
“Rebecca, remember one thing: your parents have already lost a daughter. Don’t leave them without hope that someday they’ll get you back too.”
“I’m not gone forever, Aenti. I simply have to get the schooling I need to kumme back, to help.”
“That’s gut. I’ll make sure you keep your word concerning that. Ja, Rebecca, that’s very gut.”
CHAPTER
23
It didn’t take them long to find Ben and Marianna. When the wagons pulled into the Cabinet Mountain Campground, Ben’s truck was already waiting.
Rebecca was the first off the wagon, and she hurried over to the truck. She expected to see her parents sitting in the backseat of his extended cab, but she was glad they weren’t there.
Their wagons had been due in yesterday, but they’d taken an extra day for the others to hike to the lake. How long had Ben and Marianna been waiting for them to arrive? Had they been worried? Had her parents been worried? She had no doubt they were.
Ben looked to be asleep in the driver’s seat. He was leaning against the window with a sweatshirt tucked under his chin. Marianna was in the front seat reading a book. Well, at least the book was open in her lap, but her mind seemed to be someplace else. She looked to be the same sweet Marianna Rebecca had always known, except unlike their growing-up years she wore a head scarf instead of a kapp. Rebecca approached and tapped on the window. Marianna jumped, and then relief flooded her face. She put up her book and then swung open the door.
“There you are . . . You had us worried. I thought you were supposed to get to Libby yesterday.”
“Well, we were, but there were a few issues.”
“Nothing serious I hope.”
“No, not at all.”
“And I think you forgot something.” Marianna held up Rebecca’s cell phone.
Rebecca gladly accepted it. “I’m so glad you brought that.” She resisted the urge to check to see if she had any messages.
Ben stirred awake and then hurried into motion, jumping out of the truck to help the others with the horses.
“No serious issues, I hope.”
“A broken wheel, a wound I needed to bandage, the side trip to the lake, and lost horses . . . among a few other things.”
She eyed Marianna, taking her hand. Rebecca wanted to ask about her parents, but she had to find out something else first. “Marianna . . . how are you feeling? How’s the boppli?”
Marianna’s hand covered her stomach, and her face lit up. “Very well. We went to the doctor in Kalispell. We heard the heartbeat and got the ultrasound. I wanted to bring the photo to show you, but Ben was afraid we’d lose it. He already has it framed, and he’s calling our little one Bean . . . because that’s what the ultrasound looks like.”
Rebecca offered her friend a quick hug. “I’m so glad.”
Marianna pulled back and eyed her. “You look different. Happy, I think. Happier than I’ve seen you in a while. And where are your Amish clothes?”
“Let’s just say that I lost layers on this trip. You really have to just be who you are. It’s not possible to put on a show for very long when you’re with friends like this, in the middle of a wilderness.” Rebecca sighed. “But . . . I have to ask: have you seen my parents? I called home to talk to them and—”
“Ja, they are here.” Marianna bit her lip. “They were so worried. I had to tell them—”
Rebecca placed a hand on Marianna’s arm. “They are here?” She glanced around.
“Not here at the campground. But they are here in Libby—at a hotel. They arrived on the train two days ago, and we got here yesterday. They are resting . . . and probably praying.”
“I think we should go see them,” Rebecca said.
“Okay, let me go talk to Ben.” Marianna hurried over to him. They talked for a few minutes, and then she came back. “Ben’s going to stay here and help the others set up their things while I drive you over.”
Marianna nodded. She moved to the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat, but before she started the engine, she turned in Rebecca’s direction. “Do you want to get your suitcase?”
“Why? Do you think that Dat is going to kidnap me and take me back to Indiana?”
“No . . . but if you wanted to put on your Amish dress, we could stop at a gas station.”
Rebecca blew out a slow breath, considering her words, understanding Marianna’s concern. Her parents were already worried about her as it was. Seeing her in Englisch clothes would be like another jab to their hearts.
“Actually, I’m not going to worry about that now. I’m still planning to go to Portland, to go to school, no matter what they think.” She slammed her door shut and put on her seat-belt. Marianna started the engine.
“I’m not doing this to hurt them,” Rebecca said. “I’m doing this to help . . . well, help our community.”
“Ja, well, I’m not sure they’ll see it that way.”
They rode through town, and it felt strange to be sitting inside a vehicle after riding along on a wagon so long. The truck seemed so tall, and it went so fast. And it seemed even odder that a petite person like Marianna could drive it so well.
“Marianna, are you sorry you left?” Rebecca asked as they pulled into a hotel parking lot and parked.
Marianna turned off the engine, but she didn’t budge. “I miss it. There are a lot of times it’s on my mind. I can’t say I’m sorry, but there are days I feel lonely. Days I wish I was back in Shipshe, attending one of those sewing bees I thought were so boring. I suppose what I miss about the community is the feeling of belonging and of truly being known. I see that you have it here in Montana too. The West Kootenai area is a wonderful place. Yet, at the same time, I like not being so fenced in.”
“What do you mean?
“For so long it was us versus them. I felt sorry for the Englisch. I felt as if I’d been chosen and they had not. I didn’t understand it. Also, I questioned how we could sit and do nothing to share the good news, to get other people to consider being Amish. If I had the truth that could save men’s souls, then why wouldn’t I share it?”
“So you don’t think that by leaving the community—the church—you’ve put your eternal soul at risk?” Rebecca asked. She thought about what Millie had said. Did Rebecca agree—could Jesus take them across the bridge even if their works didn’t match the high standards placed on them by the Ordnung?
“I don’t think my eternal soul is at risk because I left the Amish. Jest the opposite. I know Jesus more now than I ever did. I love Him more, and I feel His love.”
“But the world . . . God’s Word says to stay far from it.” Rebecca was still trying to put the pieces together in her mind. She placed her hand on the door handle, but she didn’t open it. Before she faced her parents, she had to know with certainty.
“It does say that, but it’s important to look at who Jesus called ‘the world,’ Rebecca. That’s why reading the Word for yourself is so important. ‘The world’ is not those who live differently than the Amish church. ‘The world’ are those who live against God. Who turn their back on Him. Jest think of Annie and some of the other Englisch people you’ve met. Think of Ben. They love God and show it more than most people I’ve grown up with my entire life.”
Rebecca nodded, but it was hard taking the words in. It was as if Marianna was speaking Spanish or Chinese.
“When I first thought of leaving, I’d just accepted the fact that if I was walking away, I was opening myself up to the possibility of going to hell. Yet I hoped that I’d return with the knowledge I needed. And then . . . only then could I one day be safe.”
Tears filled Marianna’s eyes. “Vell, as I heard my dat telling a friend, when we get to heaven we just might
be surprised who’s there and who’s not there.”
It took a minute for Rebecca to think about that, and deep down she had a feeling Marianna was right. She’d never met people who loved God as much as Annie and Millie. And they did it without wearing a kapp.
“But . . . there is a way you can know, Rebecca. It’s not through wearing a kapp or being good enough or making sure you stay away from cars and electricity. God’s Word says that all of us—everyone from my little sister Ellie to Bishop Shetler—have sinned against God. Yet when we turn to Jesus and confess our sin, He is righteous enough to take away our sin and ensure we have a place in heaven.”
Logging trucks rumbled by on the road next to the hotel. Rebecca took in a deep breath, and it smelled more like gasoline than the fresh pine of the last few days. Still, Marianna’s words were a fresh breeze, and as Marianna spoke them, it helped to make sense of everything Millie had said. It was good news. Wonderful news.
“It seems too easy to just accept and believe,” Rebecca finally said.
“Jesus did the hard part.”
“And it doesn’t depend on my works?”
“No, Jesus just asks that you love Him with all your heart and follow Him.”
“And if I don’t? If I live by the world’s ways?”
Marianna smiled. “That’s not really following Him, is it?”
Rebecca’s stomach knotted up. The decision she made at this moment would change everything. Her mem and dat had warned her. Once they’d heard about Marianna leaving the Amish, Rebecca’s parents had told her not to communicate with Marianna anymore. “If you talk to her too much, you just might go the way of the world next,” they’d said.
Around their church district, rumors had circulated. Some had said that Marianna was writing letters to her brother, telling Levi to come to Montana with his fraa, Naomi. Others were saying that Abe and Ruth Sommer—Marianna’s parents—would be leaving the Amish next. But she’d been here, and she’d spent time with them. Instead of their lives causing her to fear, she had hope. More hope in her own good future than she’d ever had before.
