by Beth Wiseman
He rubbed at his chest, feeling as if his heart hurt, physically hurt, this morning as the monotony of his work gave him the time to reflect.
How did he go within hours from being someone’s friend and confidant to a person to be avoided, even treated with hurt and anger?
His eyes filmed, and his sight wavered. When he swung his hammer, he missed the nail and hit his thumb instead. With a cry of pain he jumped back, stuck his injured finger in his mouth, and sucked on it to relieve the pain.
“Ben? You okay? Sohn?”
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to stare into the face of Amos. Nodding, he pulled his hand from his mouth. “Just hit my thumb.”
“Looks like you really hurt yourself there. Your eyes are watering something fierce.” Amos pulled a bandanna out of his back pocket and handed it to Ben.
Ben nodded his thanks, too miserable to speak.
“Let’s go inside, get some ice on this.”
“No need. It’ll be okay.”
But Amos shepherded him inside the house and nudged him into a chair in the kitchen. Naomi was working there, preparing the noon meal. Two-year-old Ruth was coloring at the table.
“Naomi, we need some ice. Ben hit his thumb.”
She rushed to get the ice. Ruth crowded closer to Ben and investigated his hand with wide eyes. “Ben got boo-boo?”
He laughed. “Yes.”
“Kiss it make it better,” she said, and she pressed her lips to his thumb.
Ben stroked her hair with his other hand. “Thank you, Ruth.”
“Here, this should help,” Naomi said as she handed him a kitchen towel filled with ice.
“Thanks.” He watched her fill a plastic cup with juice and give it to Ruth. Although he knew she was in her late forties and the mother of eight kinner, Naomi didn’t look much older than Rebecca. This was what Rebecca would look like when she was older: an attractive woman who was strong and capable, a woman who was the heart of her home.
He swallowed hard.
“Want some coffee?”
“I can get it; you’re busy.”
She pressed a hand to his shoulder. “It’s no trouble. I’m going to get you some aspirin too. You’re in pain.”
His heart hurt more than his finger. Then he shook his head. He was being melodramatic. Two years ago, a childhood friend of his had asked a young woman if he could see her, and she’d turned him down. His friend had been disappointed and moped around for a few months, then met someone else, fallen in love, and married her. They’d just had their first child last month. Life had moved on.
Naomi went to get some supplies from the pantry, and Ben drank his coffee. When she returned, she placed a pan with two roasting chickens in the oven.
“Will you stay for supper?” she asked as she did every day.
“Danki, but not tonight. I’ll be eating with my parents.”
He glanced at the kitchen clock. It was nearly time to stop work for the day. He wanted to be gone by the time Rebecca came home.
Just then he heard the door open, then close, and she walked into the room.
“Rebecca! You’re home already?” Naomi exclaimed.
“Anita decided to close a little early.” Taking off her bonnet and coat, Rebecca hung them on pegs. “We’re doing inventory later in the week. Hello, Ben.” She walked over and looked down at his hand wrapped in the towel. “What happened?”
“Hit it with the hammer.” Getting up, he dumped the melting ice from the dish towel into the sink. He folded the towel and left it on the counter.
“That’s not like you.”
Shrugging, Ben reached for his coat. “Wasn’t paying attention, I guess. Thanks for the ice, Naomi. Gut nacht.”
He found Amos in the barn and said good-bye, then hitched up his horse to his buggy. As he pulled out of the drive onto the road, something made him glance back. Rebecca stood at the window, watching him.
Turning back to face the road, Ben rode along, the clip-clop of his horse’s hooves on the road a soothing cadence to his thoughts. He passed by the Bontrager property. The old house stood abandoned, paint peeling, windows broken. He’d thought about buying it and fixing it up. The house was in sad shape, but he knew its construction was solid. Windows could easily be replaced, the outside of the house scraped and repainted, the interior cleaned and fixed up. It wouldn’t be hard. He was, after all, a carpenter, and many of his friends were tradesmen who could help him with the necessary repairs.
The Bontrager property was only a mile or so away from Rebecca’s family home, and he’d thought she’d like that. It would make it handy for him to work with her father as well. He’d wanted to talk to Rebecca about it first, but a man couldn’t talk about a future home until he was assured he was talking to his future wife. So he’d waited.
And now everything had changed.
Dragging his gaze away from the lost promise of the house, he stared straight ahead. That was how he’d gotten through the day— doing the first thing on his list, then the next, then the next, without thinking. The first time he’d lost his concentration, he’d hit his thumb. He wouldn’t make that mistake again, and not just because his thumb was still throbbing. He was a practical man, and he had his work to keep him busy.
A few days from now, maybe a few weeks, maybe he’d do what some of his friends had urged him to do for some time now: he’d open his eyes and look around at other young women in the community.
Inventory was a welcome distraction.
As much as Rebecca enjoyed helping customers and ringing up sales and answering the dozens of questions from tourists about her community, doing some mindless counting and tallying was just what she needed.
Ben had been avoiding her. He hadn’t stayed for supper since Abram’s birthday and was usually gone by the time she got home from work. Her parents eyed her curiously but kept their questions to themselves. Even Marian hadn’t said anything, although Rebecca often caught her watching her. Occasionally, one of the kinner would ask if Ben was going to stay to eat with them, but the younger ones saw him at midday dinner or after school.
“Hungry?” Anita interrupted her thoughts.
“Ya.”
They went into the break room in the back of the store to eat sandwiches Anita had slipped out earlier to buy. As she peeled back the paper from the sandwich, Rebecca hesitated, remembering.
“Did I get the wrong kind?”
Rebecca shook her head. “No, it’s fine, thanks. I was just thinking of the last time I went to this restaurant, that’s all.”
“The day that young man surprised you by coming to take you to lunch?”
Nodding, Rebecca took a bite of her sandwich. She didn’t really feel like eating now that she’d remembered, but she didn’t want to hurt Anita’s feelings. “I remember how you said you have a romantic heart,” she said. “Do you think all women have one?”
“I think many do. Most, maybe.”
“Do you think any men are romantic?”
Anita smiled and wiped her lips with a paper napkin. She regarded Rebecca sympathetically. “Am I to assume by your question that the young man isn’t romantic?”
“Not very.” Rebecca drained the last of her lemonade and tossed the paper cup into the trash can. “I’m going to put the rest of this sandwich in the refrigerator for tomorrow’s lunch.”
“What about other young men in your community? Are they different from—I hate to keep saying ‘that young man.’ What’s his name?”
“Ben. I don’t know if he’s different from the others. I mean, I think they’re more practical than Englisch young men because so many of them work in trades or farm or whatever, but I still hear they can be romantic. I see my father being very sweet and romantic with my mamm sometimes.”
“My Phil was that way. He brought home a dozen roses each week, and he left notes for me when he had to leave the house early and I wasn’t up yet.” She stood. “Ready to finish up?”
They worked
on inventory some more, occasionally exchanging comments about what stock had been popular, what they should order more of, what should be eliminated.
“You’ve been such an asset,” Anita told her as they finished up. “You’re good with the customers, you sense what they want before they ask, and you’re unflappable.”
Rebecca laughed and shook her head. “I assure you, I’m flappable.”
Anita handed Rebecca her coat and bonnet. “Your young man really hurt you, didn’t he?”
“I don’t think he meant to,” Rebecca said slowly. “He’s been a good friend, gotten me through some bad times since my sister died. But I want . . .”
“You want some romance. You want to believe you’re loved.”
“Yes,” Rebecca said at last. “Yes.”
They were silent on the way home and then, just before she pulled into the drive of Rebecca’s house, Anita spoke. “You know, I believe that the right young man is out there for you. You’re a sweet, religious young woman with a lot to offer. When it’s time, God will send along the right man.”
Surprised, Rebecca glanced over at Anita. Although the woman was very nice to her, they didn’t often talk so personally. Rebecca was glad she’d offered to stay and help Anita with inventory.
“I hope you’re right.”
Anita smiled and took her hand from the steering wheel to pat Rebecca’s. “I am.”
The front door opened, and Mamm stepped outside and waved.
“Tell your mother I said hello.”
“I will.” Rebecca started to open the car door, then turned back. “Thank you, Anita.”
“You know I’m always happy to give you a lift home.”
Rebecca shook her head. “No, that’s not what I meant. Thank you for caring.”
Anita smiled. “You make it easy. See you in the morning.”
Chapter Ten
BEN WAS CLIMBING INTO HIS BUGGY WHEN, OUT OF THE corner of his eye, he saw Rebecca. He heard her call his name.
“Ben!” She appeared at the driver’s side of the buggy, sounding out of breath. “I was calling you!”
“Sorry. Did you need something?” He kept his tone brisk and impersonal.
“Yes, Ben.” She tugged at his sleeve. “I need to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing to say.” He picked up the reins, not caring if he was being rude.
To his utter surprise, Rebecca grasped the reins and made him look at her. “I’m sorry, Ben. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. But can’t we still be friends?”
He stared at her hand over his for a long moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so, Rebecca. I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
It felt like something was pressing against his chest; he had to get away.
There was that expression of hurt in her eyes again. But she’d rejected him. He steeled himself against it. “I have to go.”
When she stepped back, he set the buggy in motion. This time, he didn’t look back. He couldn’t look back. She’d told him no, and so he had to move on.
He went to a singing the next night, and after he was there for only a few minutes, Mary Anne walked over.
“I don’t see Rebecca.”
Ben shrugged. “Maybe she’ll come with someone else.”
Mary Anne’s eyebrows arched. “Oh, so that’s the way it is.”
When the singing began there wasn’t another opportunity to talk. But Mary Anne looked over often and smiled at him, and when the food was served, she appeared at his elbow.
“I baked these cookies,” she told him. “Try one.”
He did and found it delicious. Mary Anne was something to look at, too, with her sparkling green eyes and saucy smile. She had this habit of leaning close to talk to him in a low, intimate tone. She was so diminutive and girlish, he felt tall and very male next to her. She was so different from Rebecca, who was nearly as tall as he was and so independent. Mary Anne made a man feel he needed to take care of her. Rebecca let him know that she could take care of herself.
Rebecca came in with Marian a little while later. Ben was aware that people near him were watching as he and Rebecca carefully ignored each other.
“What’s going on?” his brother John came over to ask. “And don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“It doesn’t matter,” John said, but he lowered his voice. “If everyone else didn’t know, they wouldn’t be watching the two of you and trying to figure out what’s going on.”
“People need to mind their own business.”
John just laughed and slapped his shoulder.
Ben had always considered himself to be an average-looking guy. But suddenly he was getting lots of attention, and not just from Mary Anne. He wondered if the other young women had ignored him because he was always with Rebecca.
So when Mary Anne asked him if he’d give her a ride home, he was happy to oblige. She held his arm to keep from sliding on the ice as they walked to his buggy and gave him an openly flirtatious smile as he helped her inside.
As the buggy rolled away from the singing, he told himself he was glad he’d taken some action and not sat around being miserable. But remembering how he’d seen Rebecca talking with Jacob Stolzfus at the food table made him wonder if he was just kidding himself.
He wasn’t a shallow man. Forgetting how Rebecca had been such a big part of his life wasn’t going to happen quickly just because someone like Mary Anne—or a half dozen other young women— flirted with him.
“Well, he certainly didn’t let any grass grow beneath his feet,” Rebecca muttered as she and Marian rode home later.
“Huh?”
Rebecca realized that she’d talked out loud. “Nothing.”
“Who hasn’t let any grass grow beneath his feet? Ben?”
Rebecca sighed. “Yes, Ben.”
Marian just laughed. “Everyone was watching the two of you.”
“Everyone was watching Mary Anne throw herself at him.”
“That too,” Marian said matter-of-factly. “What did you expect? How long did you think he’d hang around?”
Rebecca blinked. “He wasn’t ‘hanging around,’” she said, stung. “He was always at the house because he works with Daed.”
“Right.”
“I never said he wasn’t a friend. That’s hardly ‘hanging around.’”
Marian shook her head. “Rebecca, if you want him, I’m sure all you have to do is let him know.”
Rebecca laughed until tears ran down her cheeks.
“Whoa, Brownie, whoa,” Marian told their horse, and she brought him to a stop. “Are you all right?”
Rebecca nodded, then she shook her head. “It’s not true, what you said. I wish life was that simple. The fact is that he let me know he wants me. Wanted me,” she corrected.
“Oh, how wonderful.”
“Wanted, Marian.” She told her sister what had happened and watched the joy fade from her face.
“I’m so sorry.” Reaching over, Marian hugged Rebecca. “But if you’re interested, maybe you can talk to him about it.”
“He didn’t say he loved me,” Rebecca said flatly.
“No, he didn’t,” Marian said slowly. She called to the horse, and the buggy began rolling again.
“Listen, I haven’t told Mamm and Daed about this,” Rebecca said. “I don’t want to talk against Ben. They think of him as a son. I wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of his relationship with Daed about work, either. I’m trying to forgive Ben, and I hope he’ll forgive me for not agreeing to what he wanted.”
But when she remembered how he’d acted when she tried to apologize, she thought his forgiveness might be a long time coming.
“Sometimes life is a mystery, isn’t it?” Marian mused. “We’re taught that it’s God’s will that this or that happened, that God has plans for us. But I still don’t understand why Lizzie had to die. And I don’t understand why someone like Ben i
sn’t the man God prepared for you.”
Rebecca sighed. “Remember Hebrews 11? ‘Now faith is the substance of things hoped for . . .’”
“‘The evidence of things not seen,’” Marian finished. “I just wish you didn’t have to see Mary Anne flirting with Ben. It can’t feel very good.”
Rebecca bit her lip. “It doesn’t. I’m still ashamed of how jealous I was when you flirted with Ben.”
Marian laughed. “Like I told you before, I was just practicing!”
Her chatter was driving him nuts.
Comparisons weren’t fair, but Ben couldn’t help thinking how much he preferred being with Rebecca instead of Mary Anne. Rebecca didn’t have to be talking every minute. Sometimes he felt like he couldn’t think, his brain was so filled with the sound of Mary Anne’s voice.
And what she talked about—well, it was all about Mary Anne. She chattered about every little aspect of her day, and oh, how she loved gossip. She never wanted to talk about something deeper, like faith, the way Rebecca did. He wondered if it was because she hadn’t had to deal with something big, something beyond what she’d expected life to deal her, as Rebecca had when Lizzie died. But he was beginning to suspect that Mary Anne didn’t ever think about things beyond surface, everyday happenings.
Mary Anne wound down as the buggy turned into the drive to her house. “Thank you so much for giving me a ride home from services,” she said, turning to him and smiling flirtatiously.
“You’re welcome,” he said politely, waiting for her to climb out.
She started to open her mouth to say something else. Clearly, she wasn’t ready to leave him yet.
“Let me help you.”
“You’re such a gentleman,” she told him.
Was she batting her eyelashes at him? Yes, she was batting her eyelashes at him. He didn’t think a girl had ever done that to him. He didn’t think he liked it.
As he rounded the buggy, he saw her bend down to pick up something from the floorboard. She was holding it in her hand when he stepped to her side.
“What is it?” he asked as she studied whatever it was in her left palm.
