by Beth Wiseman
The pond came into view. Children of varying ages, bundled up against the cold, skated on the icy surface. Ben noticed that, after an initial glance, Rebecca looked away.
“Rebecca, I’ve been meaning to talk to you . . .” He broke off as she began coughing. “Rebecca? Are you all right?”
She nodded but couldn’t stop coughing. Ben pulled on the reins and stopped the buggy, tried patting her on the back. She pressed one hand to her mouth, the other to her chest, and spasms racked her. He stared at her. What if she stopped breathing? He focused on her mouth, trying to remember what he’d read about CPR. With his luck, he’d just do more damage, he decided. Or make Rebecca think that he was making improper advances.
Desperately, he looked around. What should he do? Then it came to him—there was a volunteer fire station just down the road. He turned the buggy in a U-turn and urged Ike into a run.
“What—what are you doing?” she gasped, grabbing at his arm to hold on. “Are you trying to kill us?”
She’d stopped coughing, although her face was still red and her breath was rasping in her chest.
“Are you okay?”
“I will be if you’ll slow down!”
Ben brought the buggy to a halt and took a good look at her. Her color was returning to normal—well, at least her face was no longer bright red. And the coughing that had scared him to death had indeed stopped.
“You’re sure?”
She nodded. “I’ll be fine, really.”
Leaning back in his seat, Ben hesitated as he studied her. What was it about this wisp of a woman that had made him want her as his fraa for so long? That made him wait for her and feel so protective of her?
“Where were you going?”
He made another U-turn and started for home. “To the volunteer fire station.”
“Where’s the fire?” she teased.
His eyes widened. She was always so serious. And after the past few minutes, he was surprised she could joke on the heels of such a coughing fit.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” she told him quietly. “I’m fine now.”
“You shouldn’t have worked today.”
She bent her head and sighed. “Probably not. But if I’d stayed home, my mamm would have fussed over me like I was a kind.” Her head snapped up then, as if she’d just thought of something.
“What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
In a few minutes they pulled up in front of her house. Jumping out of the buggy, Ben walked around to Rebecca’s side and held out his hands to help her down. Judging from the surprise on her face, she hadn’t expected such courtesy from him.
And why should she? he asked himself. He tried to keep their relationship strictly friendly. He didn’t want to scare her off; he’d always felt that if he didn’t approach her about a change in their relationship in just the right way, at just the right time, she might reject him.
Before she could say she could get down by herself, he clasped her around the waist and lifted her out of the buggy. They stared at each other for a long moment.
Ben set her on the ground.
She caught her breath. “Are you coming in for supper?”
He shook his head. “Not tonight. I told my family I’d be home.”
Her hands fell to her sides. She nodded and started inside, turning at the door to look at him. “Thank you for giving me a ride.”
He watched her as she went inside, then he turned to get into the buggy. He wished he hadn’t promised he’d have supper at home tonight. Somehow, it felt as if their relationship was changing lately.
He hoped he wasn’t imagining it.
Rebecca’s head was whirling as she climbed the steps to her room.
Ben turning the buggy around to get help wasn’t so remarkable. Probably anyone would have done it. But the way he’d helped her from the buggy, like a gentleman, that’s what had surprised her.
There was a different mood between them. And then, when he’d lifted her down, well, she didn’t know what to think.
She walked to her dresser to brush her hair before going back downstairs and saw how wan she looked. That was it, she thought as she removed her kapp to redo her hair. He’d felt sorry for her because she still looked so ill.
She bound up her hair again, replaced her kapp, and, exhausted by her day, sank down onto her bed for a few minutes to get a second wind.
The bed on the other side of the room had been Lizzie’s. But Marian, just thirteen then, began sleeping there to keep Rebecca company the first weeks after their sister died and Rebecca came home from the hospital. And then she’d just stayed instead of returning to the room she had shared with Esther.
Tired. Rebecca was so, so tired. She thought about what she’d said to Ben . . . If she’d stayed home, her mamm would have fussed over her like she was a kind.
Was it possible that this was why she’d stayed? Why she hadn’t ventured outside the safe, loving circle of her family to create one of her own? Because here she could stay a kind her parents worried over, and she didn’t need to assume responsibility for herself?
Stunned by the revelation, she didn’t hear Marian calling her name until her sister came into the room.
Chapter Four
“REBECCA! SUPPER’S READY.” MARIAN STOOD AT HER bedside. “Do you want to come down and eat, or shall I bring you up a tray?”
“I’m coming down.” She yawned. “I should have helped Mamm—”
“It’s okay. I did.”
“You are such a sweet sister,” Rebecca told her, touching her arm. “Thank you.”
Marian peered at her. “Are you feeling better? I heard you coughing last night.”
“I’m sorry I woke you.”
She smiled. “I’m sure I’ve woken you up sometimes.”
“Yes. When you snore.”
“Snore?” Her sister stared at her, aghast. “I don’t snore!”
“Like a grizzly bear in hibernation,” Rebecca said.
“I don’t snore!”
Rebecca couldn’t stop her lips from twitching.
“Oh, you!” Marian said. “You had me going there for a minute!”
The sisters walked downstairs to the kitchen, their arms entwined.
Naomi glanced up from where she stood at the stove and smiled. “I heard the two of you laughing. Did the nap help, Rebecca?”
Rebecca gave her mother a hug. “Ya, but you should have woken me up. I wanted to help you.”
“It’s better that you get well,” her mother said. “And look, everything is almost done.”
Abram was putting the silverware on the table, Esther was pouring glasses of water, and even little Annie was helping by putting a napkin on each plate. Rebecca washed her hands and set to work slicing the bread while Marian helped their mother set dishes of hot food on the table.
Daed entered the room and greeted Rebecca. “Feeling better?”
“Ya,” she said. “It was good to get back to work today.”
He nodded. “Where’s Jonas?” he asked as he took his seat at the table.
Naomi turned, frowning. “I thought he was out in the barn with you.”
“I thought he was in here helping you.”
Rebecca paused in the act of slicing the bread. She frowned as she caught the furtive glance two of her brothers exchanged.
“Abram? Where’s Jonas?”
He hesitated.
“Abram?”
Naomi set down her spoon and crossed the room. “Tell us where Jonas is.”
“He went sledding by the pond.”
Rebecca heard pond, and her knife clattered to the counter. Fear clutched her heart, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. She rushed to grab her coat and bonnet from the peg by the door.
“I’ll go,” her father said, taking the outdoor things from her and hanging them back on the peg. He reached for his own coat and black felt hat. “I don’t want you out in the cold.”
The door
opened at that moment, and Jonas walked in.
“Jonas, you did not have permission to go sledding,” Daed told him sternly. “You know the rules. Your mamm here was worried, and you worried Rebecca as well.”
“Me too,” said Abram. “I was wordied too!”
Jonas hung his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Go put on dry clothes and get your hands washed,” Amos said sternly. “We’ll talk about it after supper.” He looked at Naomi, then at his oldest son. “My own daed would have sent me to bed without supper,” he told him. “But your mamm here won’t send a child to bed hungry.”
“Danki, Mamm,” Jonas said fervently. “I’m so very hungerich.”
“Getting into mischief makes a youngster hungry, eh, Naomi?”
She nodded. “Ya, sometimes they return home because their stomach is helping them remember where they’re supposed to be.”
Jonas reddened and ran to change. When he returned and slipped into his chair, he wore a chastened expression. But Rebecca saw the sly look he sent Eli.
Sometimes Jonas reminded Rebecca of Lizzie. He was the Miller child who was always looking for adventure and not afraid to get into trouble to find it. The abraded skin on his cheek told Rebecca he’d taken a spill on the sled and encountered something harder than snow. She’d clean it and put some medicine on it before he had to face their father for his transgressions, she decided.
“Where’s Ben tonight?” Marian wanted to know.
“He promised his family he’d eat at home tonight,” Rebecca told her.
“Did he give you a ride home?” Daed asked.
“Ya.”
He gave her a satisfied nod. “Ben always does what he says he will.”
Dinner at Ben’s home was quieter than at Rebecca’s. He was the youngest of the Weaver children, and all his brothers and sisters had their own families now.
Ben’s mother, Emma, smiled at him. She was a tall, thin woman who had worked beside her husband in the fields. Years of being outside in the sun, years of smiling through joy and adversity, had etched lines around her eyes.
“It’s good to have you home for supper, Sohn.”
“Boy found out you made pot roast,” his father muttered before putting a big forkful in his own mouth.
“You’ve never missed her pot roast either,” Ben reminded him equably. “I remember the time you were lying in the emergency room having your broken arm set, and all you could talk about was how Mamm was making pot roast for supper and you were worried it would be all gone before you got home.”
His father slapped him on the back, a little harder than affection usually merited. “You’re right there.” He shoveled in a forkful of oven-roasted potatoes and carrots. “Been spending a lot of time over at the Miller place. How long are you going to wait for her?”
“Samuel! It’s not our way to pry into our children’s lives in that area!”
“A man knows when he’s found his fraa,” he went on blithely. “You’ve been a little bit slow, haven’t you, Sohn?”
Ben just looked at his father. “It’s taking a little longer than I expected,” he admitted.
“You sure she’s not a lost cause?” Samuel Weaver asked bluntly.
“That’s what he’d like best,” his mamm said before Ben could answer. “He’s never been one to do things the easy way.”
Samuel nodded. “True. Aren’t you worried that another man could come along and catch her eye, move faster?”
“Samuel!”
“It could happen,” he asserted as he dragged a piece of bread through the gravy on his plate and put it into his mouth. “You know it, too, don’t you?”
Ben nodded. “One day she could stop looking inward, blaming herself for her sister’s death. She could look out and see someone else. Date him. But I can’t rush her. It wouldn’t be right.”
“It’s hard to know sometimes when to wait and when to press the issue,” Emma said carefully.
His father thought about it and sighed. “Listen to your mamm,” he told Ben. “Wisest woman I ever met.”
His parents’ eyes met, and Ben saw the love they shared. He wanted that kind of relationship, that warm glow of love after so many years of marriage. His eldre had weathered many challenging times together.
It was worth it to wait for the one you loved, wasn’t it? Marriage was supposed to be forever.
“She’s a lovely girl,” his mother was saying. “I’m not saying this to sway you one way or the other. You’ve been a good friend to her.”
Ben looked up and waited for her to gently say that perhaps he should move on, find someone else to marry him and give him children, and her, grandchildren. But she simply smiled.
“I know she took the death of her twin very hard,” she went on. “There’s no accounting for how long it takes for someone to accept the death of someone they love, to accept God’s will.”
“She still blames herself,” Ben said, setting down his fork. “She hasn’t said it in so many words, but . . .”
“But you know because you care.”
He nodded. She understood him so well.
She touched his hand. “And I know that you blamed yourself for not being able to save Lizzie. The two of you have had much to deal with. Things will work out if they’re meant to. In God’s time.”
“Sometimes it’s hard for a man to accept God’s time,” his father said. “Maybe you should— Is that my favorite?”
Emma set the pan of baked apples fragrant with cinnamon in front of him on the table. “There’s ice cream for on top if you want it.”
Samuel jumped up to get it.
Emma winked at Ben as she handed him his own dessert. By the time his father returned to the table, Emma was talking about the upcoming quilting at the Millers’.
Rebecca walked into the barn a few days later and was startled to hear her father asking Ben to drive her to the doctor.
“Is she still sick?”
She stopped. Ben sounded concerned.
“No, no, she’s fine,” her father assured him quickly. “It’s an appointment with one of those head docs, that’s all.”
Closing her eyes, Rebecca shook her head. Great, just great, she thought. Now Ben’s going to think I’m crazy.
“It’ll be on the clock,” Amos said. “I need to stay here and work up a bid for the Brown kitchen.”
“Ya, I’ll be happy to do it.”
“Guder mariye, Daed, Ben,” Rebecca said as she strode forward.
“Rebecca. I was just asking Ben here to drive you to the appointment.”
“I can drive myself.”
“Ya, I know,” her father said, handing Ben a list. “But I want Ben to pick up some supplies at the hardware store, so this will kill two birds, if you’ll pardon the expression.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes.
Her father grinned. “Ask your mamm if she needs anything in town.”
“So we can kill three birds?” Rebecca shot back over her shoulder as she walked out of the barn.
“Smart mouth, that one,” she heard her father say with a laugh.
She was still smiling when she entered the kitchen.
“You’re in a good mood this morning,” Mamm remarked as she looked up from her seat at the kitchen table. A steaming cup of tea sat before her.
“Daed said to see if you need anything in town. Ben’s driving me and picking up some supplies from the hardware store.”
“Is that why you were smiling?”
“I don’t get excited about picking up supplies.”
Her mother looked at her. “You know what I mean.”
“Because Ben will be driving me? No.”
But the last two times she’d seen him, it felt as if things were changing between them. There had been an awareness between them that couldn’t be missed.
Her mother went to the refrigerator and pulled a list from under a magnet. “I’d appreciate it if you can pick up these things from Nellie’s store. I’ll n
eed them for the quilting.”
“Sure.”
“Rebecca?”
“Ya?”
“Why do you think Ben stays for supper so often?”
“Because you’re such a good cook?”
Naomi laughed and shook her head. “No. His mother is a better cook than me. Maybe if you think about it, you could come up with a reason.”
Rebecca stood there for a moment. “Now why would I want to do that?”
Then she looked up and saw Ben striding toward the house. “I have to go.” She kissed her mother’s cheek. “See you later.”
The drive into town was silent.
Ben looked over several times and saw that Rebecca looked lost in thought.
“You okay?”
“Hmm? Yes, why?”
“You’re being quiet.”
“I’m not a chatterbox. You know that.”
“There’s quite a distance between quiet and a chatterbox.”
“You’re not exactly talking much yourself.”
He nodded. “Feels strange not to be on the job on a weekday. Not that I mind, you understand. It’s good to have a change.”
Turning, she raised her eyebrows.
“What?”
“That’s more than I’ve heard you say in a long time.”
“I think you’re teasing me.”
She laughed. “I guess I am. Imagine that.”
Ben wondered why she was going to the doctor. She didn’t appear ill. There was no way that it was to see a “head doc” the way her father had teased. He knew of no one more levelheaded than Rebecca. Not that there was any shame in seeing a counselor if a person had emotional or psychological problems.
But the only thing Rebecca had, in his opinion, was a mantle of grief that was finally lifting.
Then it struck him: she could be going to see a doctor about a woman thing. The thought made the tips of his ears burn with embarrassment. He forced the thought aside and looked out at the passing scenery. “Nice day. You warm enough?”
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Are you going to the singing on Sunday?”
“Thought I would.”
