Rebecca's Choice (The Adams County Trilogy 3)

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Jonas joined in, making the point that their last expectations hadn’t turned out the best. Their father had left them with little of the inheritance they had waited for. It seemed to him, Jonas said, as if Da Hah just wanted them to forget the whole thing.

  “We got our hopes up so high last time,” he said. “We waited around for that money. I’m almost embarrassed to think of it now. It was a shame how money hungry we were. How we forgot much of our faith and all the church has taught us.”

  Reuben nodded steadily beside her, and Rachel’s temper flared. “It was our right,” she declared. “You ought to be ashamed of yourselves—all of you—that you forgot that. It’s high time you acted like your father’s sons instead of a bunch of little whipped puppies, hiding away in dirt-poor Missouri. You know you could all use the money.”

  “She’s telling you good,” Ezra roared in laughter, but Rachel knew it was at her expense.

  “It’s time someone did,” Rachel retorted, but beside her Reuben didn’t nod anymore.

  “What’s your deacon of a husband think?” Abe asked. He rolled his eyes at Reuben.

  It was obvious to Rachel that Abe as well as the rest of them knew good and well what Reuben thought and just made fun of her.

  “I’m the Miller—not him,” she said, as if that was answer enough.

  “Oh my,” Ezra said and laughed heartedly. “Glad this isn’t a church matter. She’d fry us at pre-communion church for sure.”

  Abe and Jonas joined in Ezra’s brand of humor, their voices filling the room.

  “I think you’d better listen to them,” Reuben ventured. “They are your brothers.”

  “Mighty worthless ones,” Rachel muttered, which provoked another round of laughter.

  “Emma can do what she wants with the money,” Jonas said, once things had quieted down. “She’s been a faithful church member all these years. She lived a godly and humble life. Even with what Dad left her. Da Hah will reward Emma for it. As He even may be now.” Jonas glanced reverently skyward. “Who is to say the same would be true for us? For me? It might corrupt my soul and lead me away from the faith. Who knows what temptations await me. What if I had a farm paid off and money in the bank? I might start thinking about an automobile or perhaps joining a liberal church.”

  Jonas gave an involuntary shudder. Reuben nodded vigorously again.

  “It would do me only good,” Rachel pronounced. “Much more than someone else. The money has to go somewhere, you know.”

  “May that be in God’s hands,” Reuben said, using his deacon tone, which so irritated Rachel. “We had best leave it alone.”

  The others had nodded and wouldn’t change their minds even when she protested vehemently. Abe and Jonas had left on Sunday, right after church dinner, their van drivers in a hurry to make the trip back.

  Rachel thought a talk with Luke might help. Perhaps he had some ideas about what to do, but Luke had left for the youth singing and supper around five. He wouldn’t be back till after midnight. She assumed he was on a date with that Susie of his. No amount of talk might persuade Luke anyway.

  Rachel was suspicious about Luke and Susie being engaged, but Luke didn’t talk much to her anymore. He wasn’t disrespectful around the house—just kept any conversation they had to the basics. If he wanted to marry Susie—marry poor—then so be it.

  Last night her inability to control the situation made her pace the floor in the hall just outside the bedroom where Reuben couldn’t hear her steps. Emma’s will affected her directly. Good news waited for her, perhaps at the lawyer’s office, if she could just obtain it. On Sunday afternoon she could have brought up the fact she knew which lawyer was involved. That might have produced cooperation from her brothers, but it would also have produced questions she couldn’t answer—questions that might have led her into a swamp of intrigue where she didn’t desire to go.

  That Luke knew was bad enough. Reuben had gone to bed around ten. He glanced at her as he went into the bedroom but said nothing. She ignored him but was unable to sit still for long, let alone think of sleep yet. She had paced the floor until sometime after midnight and then, exhausted from her frantic thinking, slept fitfully all night.

  Now the letter was in her hand. The return address stated it came from Bridgeway & Broadmount, attorneys at law, in Anderson, Indiana.

  Its contents could contain only good news, she was certain. This was the key to her bright future. Her hands trembled as she opened it.

  “To the relatives of Emma Miller,” the letter began.

  In accordance with instructions left by the late Emma Miller, we are contacting you and other relatives. It is requested, at your earliest convenience, that you contact this office for a reading of the will of the deceased.

  Rachel exhaled. She hadn’t noticed she was holding her breath. No doubt Ezra had received a similar letter. Even if he hadn’t, this would still be all she needed to press the matter. Abe and Jonas would just have to miss out. She and Ezra would visit the lawyer’s office at once.

  Ezra would not refuse—she was sure of that. He still had enough of the Miller sense to know better. With Abe and Jonas gone, he might not have his nose quite so high in the air. Those two were a bad influence wherever they went.

  She hitched the driving horse to the buggy, then checked where Reuben might be but could see nothing of him. He was likely in the back field, away from his goats for a moment, at work with the cattle. Rachel scribbled a quick note and left it on the kitchen table. I’ve gone to see Ezra.

  If she came back in time to fix lunch, then well and good. Otherwise the man could fix his own lunch. Let him experience the true effects of poverty, which he so loved, without her around to dull the sharp edges.

  She stopped at the first phone shack she came to. Holding the reins of her horse, she went inside. Her fingers trembled with excitement so much she could barely hit the correct numbers. Before the call went through, she glanced up and down the road just to make certain no other Amish people were approaching and in need of using the phone. There was no reason for her conversation to be overheard by anyone else. Her moment of triumph was sweet, and she had no need of meddlers.

  “Bridgeway & Broadmount, Lisa speaking,” the voice said at the other end.

  “Yes, Lisa,” Rachel answered, knowing her voice trembled but not caring, “this is Rachel Byler. I’m calling in response to a letter I received from your office today. I need an appointment.”

  “What is this in reference to?”

  “Emma Miller’s will,” Rachel said and tried hard to keep the excitement out of her voice.

  “Oh, yes,” the voice said, “of course. How soon would be okay?”

  Rachel thought wildly. “This afternoon perhaps.”

  “How about three thirty here at the office? Mr. Bridgeway will be through with court by then and has no other clients coming in.”

  “That would be fine,” Rachel said. She barely trusted her own voice. The moment was so close, so near at hand. There was simply no way she could have gone through another night without touching what was hers.

  “We will see you then,” the voice said, and the call ended.

  Rachel dialed another number and made arrangements with a taxi driver the Amish used for the trip into Anderson. If Ezra consented to go along, they would stop at his place last. She would pay for the entire trip herself if Ezra didn’t go. It wouldn’t be too expensive, especially with what she knew would soon be in her checking account. Her world was about to change.

  How much is it going to change? she wondered. She certainly wouldn’t have to worry about details like payment for a taxi trip. She felt satisfied and got back into the buggy just as Eli Mast, from down the road, pulled up to use the phone. Rachel smiled at him, as she knew the Lord smiled on her. Da Hah had even arranged for a time alone, where she could use the phone uninterrupted. There could be no other explanation, as busy as the phones were sometimes. This was just a little sign sent from heaven to comfor
t her until the real comfort arrived.

  Ezra didn’t need a lot of talk to convince him to go to the attorney’s office. He had received the letter, he said, and would be ready when she arrived with the taxi driver. She got back home in time to fix Reuben’s lunch—a shame she thought bitterly—then decided this must be in the plan. Reuben needed help. She would be kind to him, poor man, now that heaven was kind to her. Reuben couldn’t really help the way he was born.

  At the lawyer’s office, they were ushered in, after only a little wait. Rachel glanced around. The surroundings were still as imposing and overwhelming as they had been so many years ago, when they had gathered here to read their father’s will. Mr. Bridgeway welcomed them in and invited them to have a seat with a sweep of his hand.

  “I am glad you could come,” he said. “Are there not more relatives?”

  “Two more brothers,” Ezra told him. “They have returned to Missouri where they live.”

  “You didn’t know about the will?” he asked.

  Ezra and Rachel shook their heads.

  “That’s strange,” Mr. Bridgeway said, raising his eyebrows. “I’m just following instructions. Emma was pretty specific. Let me read the will first.”

  With a rustle of paper, Mr. Bridgeway read, speaking the words slowly. Rachel’s mind went into a whirl, and her arms and legs turned cold. After the first two sentences, little seemed to register. The awful news came through clear enough.

  Emma had left everything except a small pittance to Rebecca Keim from West Union, Ohio, to be transferred after her marriage to an Amish boy. If Rebecca married outside the Amish faith, all the property was to be given equally to…and Mr. Bridgeway read off the names of Abe Miller, Jonas Miller, Ezra Miller, and Rachel Byler. An executor of the will was named—a Manny Troyer. Rachel had no idea who he was.

  They each were given copies of the will, and Mr. Bridgeway said he would mail copies to Abe and Jonas. He would also contact Mr. Troyer and give him some other instructions he had from Emma. Somehow Rachel found the strength to follow Ezra outside. Shuffling slowly out to the taxi driver’s car, she hadn’t felt this weak in years.

  Thankfully Ezra insisted he drop her off first. Apparently he noticed Rachel’s condition and even offered to help her into the house. She shook her head and numbly wrote out the check for the trip—it would cut deeply into their scarce funds.

  “We have to do something,” she whispered before Ezra left.

  He only shook his head, and left her standing in the driveway. A bitterness grew in Rachel’s chest, a fire with flames that torched every corner of her soul.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The matter might have disappeared because Rachel, for once, had no idea what to do. Given more time perhaps she could have come up with a solution. As it was, the news was broadcast thoughout the Amish communities two weeks later in a manner that couldn’t be easily ignored.

  It happened by a confluence of events. Rachel, if she had known, would have called them divine. Others, perhaps, would have believed differently.

  Margaret, Emery Yoder’s wife, who usually wrote the weekly article for The Budget, had travel plans to visit relatives in Pennsylvania. In her and Emery’s absence, their daughter, eighteen-year-old Ruth, was left in charge. Normally such a young girl would not be trusted with such a burden, but Margaret had reasons for her decision.

  Ruth had always expressed a great interest in writing and had excelled in English class during her school years. Ruth had even submitted a short work of fiction to the Amish publishing house, Pathway, this past winter. The submission itself was no small accomplishment in Margaret’s eyes, not just something to whisper about to the women at the sewing. She held this opinion even when the article was returned with a rejection slip.

  The rejection slip contained much praise for the short story. It described the high regard in which the editor held the article. The editor explained that he had no present use for the material, that Pathway Publishers had just recently run other articles on the subject.

  This had encouraged Margaret greatly and set Ruth to work again. She made some changes to her story, used the editor’s comments from Pathway as her guide, and submitted the story to Christian Light Publications, a conservative Mennonite publishing house in Harrisonburg, Virginia.

  Margaret said that even though it might be unusual for Mennonites to publish material from Amish writers, they might consider it. She supposed Ruth’s story, about the blessings of a single’s life, to be of enough quality and depth that even the Mennonites would want to publish it.

  Ruth thought so too. She continued to think so even though Ben Zook asked to take her home in two weeks. This was a nice turn of events for the eighteen-year-old-girl—not just because she liked Ben but because both Margaret and Ruth thought this showed how when one accepted the circumstances of life as they were, God could change things for the better.

  This little detail had been left out of the new submission. They figured if Christian Light wanted to know of Ruth’s present relationship with boys, they would ask. Apparently this decision was the correct approach because a nice letter came back almost right away. The letter thanked Ruth for a well-thought-out and written article and stated the board of Christian Light would review and consider it for publication.

  In this surge of euphoric emotion, Margaret left Ruth to write the weekly Budget letter. Ruth, in her debut letter, paid special attention to the events of the community and felt fully prepared for her task. In the course of writing the letter, something was inadvertently added. Perhaps Ruth’s recent preoccupation with the subject of the single lifestyle made her more receptive to what Ezra’s daughter, Clara, told her about Emma.

  What Clara whispered on Sunday struck Ruth as noteworthy. Emma, the single woman who taught school for much of her life, who lived an outwardly normal life, had done a mighty strange thing. She had left all her property—three farms, Clara said, and lots of money besides that—to an unrelated pupil of hers. Her name was Rebecca Keim, and she was from West Union, Ohio. Clara knew this because her dad had said so, and he had a copy of the will because Emma was his aunt.

  “You might have seen her at the funeral,” Clara then whispered. “She stayed long at the coffin with her aunt Leona. Probably knew what was coming.”

  Clara said that the strangest thing about the will was that Rebecca had to marry an Amish man to get the money. Clara made a face and said, “It wouldn’t take money to make me stay away from an Englisha boy.”

  “Maybe Mennonite,” Ruth had whispered back. She felt the need to defend Emma because Emma lived her life single, and the article submitted to Christian Light spoke highly of such a choice.

  “Same thing,” Clara said, and she was firm on the point.

  All this had given Ruth reason to think, bringing her mind to a sharp focus. It was the focus on Emma’s single lifestyle that bothered Ruth the most. If her mother had been home, she would have consulted her. But she wasn’t, and The Budget letter needed to be in the mail. Her mind wrestled with the matter.

  There were so many threads in the story Clara told. They all tied in with her article and yet threatened it at the same time. Emma had been such a good person, everyone agreed on that point. Ruth knew this from her own school experience and from what others said. She had never gone to Emma’s school, but Emma’s reputation and word of her methods had reached her school.

  Yet, now Emma had done a strange thing. There was no doubt about it. This action threatened to increase the misconception of the weird old maid—an image so typical and easily associated with a woman who chooses to remain single throughout her life—a tragedy, Ruth thought, and no doubt unjustified.

  In a zealous fervor, she wrote her Budget article. The motive was both to defend Emma’s actions and propagate the finer points of her own article. As a result, she spilled the beans, as they say, and the results went far and wide. Once published in The Budget, the matter could no longer be ignored, even if one wished to.


  Rachel first became aware of Ruth’s work when Reuben, deep in The Budget the first night of its arrival, grunted mightily. Rachel bitterly thought he sounded like one of his billy goats.

  “Now that’s a stupid thing to do,” he said. “Doesn’t Margaret have any sense anymore?” Then he found the name at the bottom and grunted again. “Why’d she let her do it?”

  Rachel found enough interest in this outburst to draw her attention, although little else associated with Reuben did of late. She had yet to recover from the shock she received at the lawyer’s office and doubted, in her private moments, whether she ever would. There were some things in life, she told herself, from which one did not return to normal.

  “Let me see,” she said and held out her hand.

  Reuben looked like he was on the verge of saying something—as if that would do much good, she thought—then changed his mind. He gave her one page of the paper. The rest he kept and continued reading.

  Rachel found the place Reuben had commented on and read the article.

  The funeral for our local long-time schoolteacher, Emma Miller, was held this past week. Family and friends attended from too many places to mention. Emma was highly regarded by all. Her former pupils and their parents had much good to say.

  Emma lived the life of a single woman and never married. While many consider such a choice to be strange and often forced by circumstances beyond the individual’s control, Emma considered none of these things to be against her. She apparently was single by choice and in good standing with the church all of her life. Emma displayed an excellent example of a godly life to all who knew her.

  Reports have surfaced that Emma left all her worldly possessions to Rebecca Keim from West Union, Ohio, on the condition that Rebecca marry an Amish man. While this might also be considered strange, it could well be in line with the godly life Emma lived, in which she considered both a single life and a married life to be of equal value.