“Today?”
“Soon. The sooner the better. They really belong to the Mennonite man.”
“The first person who goes to town can drop them off,” Mattie said, as Rebecca left for the walk down the driveway.
Summer was almost here. The air had that heavy feel, the preparation for warmth. She walked briskly, feeling the refreshment of the outdoors awaken her. She almost regretted her mother’s instructions for sleep in the middle of the day, but the tiredness, she figured, would return quickly.
Mail time was usually pleasant, a touch of the outside world, the breeze of news from their fellow brethren near and far, whether contained in The Budget or The Pathway papers. Today she expected nothing different. Sometimes there was even a surprise, a letter from a relative, news worthy of joy.
Rebecca wondered if today was such a day, then shivered with the feel of impending tragedy. With how last night and this morning had gone, great loss was more likely than news of comfort. With weakness in her knees, she approached the mailbox and eyed it as one would an enemy about to strike.
A tremble in her arm, she reached to open the flap. She almost retreated but knew her mother would not appreciate a trip back down simply because she feared to face the unknown inside.
The opened mailbox revealed the expected items—The Budget, some flyers from the Englisha stores in West Union, and a letter. The address on the letter was written in the round feminine scrawl she knew well. Aunt Leona had written to her sister.
Rebecca removed the items with care, barely touching the letter, fear gnawing at her. She told herself Leona wrote of good things, regular news from her family, things around which they could all gather and laugh, but she was certain it wasn’t so now. After last night, aunt Leona wrote to share grave news.
On the walk back to the house, she tried to hurry, but her legs refused. They felt like the rest of her, exhausted and at the limit of human endurance. It was all she could do to keep from collapsing into sobs by the side of lane and sinking into the green grass. She sought anything to ease her apprehension but found none. She would take the letter to her mother. To read it herself was beyond her powers.
Mattie’s eyes widened at the sight of Rebecca’s face.
“What?” she asked.
“There’s a letter from Leona.” Rebecca sank into a kitchen chair.
“Is there bad news?”
“Don’t know. Didn’t open it.”
“You could have.”
“I know, but I couldn’t.” Rebecca lifted her face to meet her mother’s eyes.
“You’re not imagining, are you?”
“I don’t know. I think it’s bad news.”
“Dear… your nerves are shot.” Mattie opened the letter, her eyes scanning the page. “She’s coming to visit this weekend. Late Saturday most likely. Oh, my. The house. We don’t have any food. At least the wash was done yesterday. Oh, Rebecca, we have to get busy right now!”
“Why is she coming?” Rebecca wasn’t convinced.
Mattie read some more. “Oh… they do want to talk. See if they can help.”
“John and me,” Rebecca said. A weariness swept over her, but the fear left.
“She says there’s a lot of talk out there. Oh, my. We really have to find a solution to this thing. How wise of your father to work on this. I wonder if Sunday is soon enough.”
“Leona will be here,” Rebecca said sighing. Her aunt’s visit produced none of the joy it should have—like so much of her life lately. It was as if a thief had come and robbed her house till it was empty.
“That’s right. She will be. We must talk with John before that. Maybe something can be decided before Leona arrives. It has to be. We can’t tell her nothing is being done about it. She’ll think we are rotten parents.”
“You are good parents. Both of you. I’m the one in trouble.”
Mattie ignored her. “There’s the food. We’re almost out of bread. With them coming, it won’t last the weekend. I had planned to bake on Monday. We have to bake rolls and pies. Leona likes apple and, of course, pecan. It’s her recipe from when we were girls. Oh, my. We have to start now.”
“Yes, Mother.” Rebecca’s mind was as weary as her body, but duty called, and both would respond.
“And John. He has to come tonight.”
“Tonight?” A flush of emotion ran through Rebecca. She sat upright in her chair.
“Yes. That’s the only time available. I will drive over and tell Miriam. She will understand. I’m sure they’ll appreciate our concern. Get your package ready, and I’ll drop it off at the Unity post office.”
“Will John understand? He’ll think I’m behind this.”
“I’ll make it clear to Miriam it’s Lester’s doing.”
“What if it doesn’t suit John?” Rebecca tried again.
“He can make it suit. He wants to get married, doesn’t he?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Then get your package. I’m going to Miriam’s first. You can start the rolls while I’m away. The yeast for the bread can be started too.”
Rebecca nodded again and went upstairs, the house silent around her except for the sound of her mother rushing around the kitchen.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The sight of Emma’s letters, tucked into the brown envelope, brought back the waves of emotion Rebecca felt while she read them last night. Still shaken about Emma holding such secrets, Rebecca felt fear rise. Surely everyone around her wasn’t like that—presenting one face in public and another in private.
Yet Emma hadn’t lied, Rebecca told herself and restored some of her shattered faith. Emma had tried to live her faith. She reached for a notepad, and sat down to write the Mennonite man a quick note.
Dear Manny,
I have read the letters and was quite shaken. I can’t imagine how you must feel. You never told me whether you married. If not, then your sorrow must truly be immense.
Please don’t think me rushed by this quick reply. I mean no disrespect. In fact, it is Emma and her memory that drive me. No one must see these letters. Please keep them secret even from the most innocent eyes.
Emma was a dear person. I can see why you would have loved her and, after having met you, how she would have returned that love. What I feel about the rest doesn’t matter, but it all seems such a shame.
Please tell Atlee it’s over between us. I say that not for the reasons Emma had. I am not Emma. Perhaps you find that hard to believe, but it’s true. I love John for my own reasons, and they are great and deep.
Then about the money. I suppose you think I will keep it. The problem is that there is plenty of trouble right now about it. I couldn’t go along with communion. John stayed back too. I don’t want the money and have said so, but no one believes me—especially those who matter most.
My mother thinks things will work out okay, and my father cares enough to try to help me. If by some miracle of the Almighty, we are ever married, that is John and I, I will sign the money and property over to Emma’s family.
If you doubt that, as I don’t blame you, I can only tell you that in this regard I am like Emma. I do what I believe to be right. My love for John is real, and returning the money will be right also.
Yours truly,
Rebecca Keim
She folded the letter and carefully slid it into the package. Pieces of scotch tape went on the envelope and over the edges. Not a foolproof method if someone wanted to get inside, but Rebecca knew her mother would respect the obvious message. Private.
“You coming?” Mattie asked from the bottom of the stairs. “I have to get going.”
Rebecca answered by stepping into the hall and shutting the door. Mattie waited and reached for the package when Rebecca arrived on the last step.
“They sell larger packages at the post office. Perhaps you could put this into one and make it easier to mail.”
Mattie nodded. “Should work. His address? Oh… it’s here on the envelope.”
>
“Yes. Manny Troyer.”
“I didn’t know he lived in Holmes County.”
“That’s where the offices of the mission are, I think.”
“You won’t be further entangled with him?”
“No.” Rebecca shook her head.
“It might not help anyway. This may already have caused big problems.”
“I hope not,” Rebecca said as Mattie left. Apparently she had let Lester know because he already had the horse hitched to the buggy and waited in the yard, his hand on the bridle. Rebecca watched for a moment, as her parents exchanged words, then Mattie climbed in and took the reins. Her father let go and stepped aside. As Mattie left, he looked for a second like he would come into the house, then seemed to change his mind.
Rebecca sighed, a great weariness rushing over her at the sight of her father’s stooped shoulders as he walked to the barn. This had all become too much for any of them to bear. She prayed that God would help them, would spare them from further suffering.
How that could be, she had no idea but felt relief flood her soul, as if heaven had heard and would surely answer. Her mother was headed to talk with John’s mother. Perhaps Isaac would be there. At this time of the day, she doubted it, but she remembered his kind face and his gentle eyes when John had been injured last year.
Isaac had seemed to understand when others might have blamed her for their quarrel before the accident. Perhaps God would use Isaac to answer their problem. The hope sprang up unbidden. Was not Isaac a minister, and did he not have powers with the bishop?
With a lighter heart, she returned to the kitchen. She warmed water and prepared the yeast mixture. Then she wiped the table before bringing out flour and other ingredients she needed. By the time Mattie rattled in the lane again, an hour and half later, the bread had already risen for the first time and she had cinnamon sprinkled on the rolls, ready to bake in the oven.
“I hadn’t planned on staying so long,” her mother gasped rushing in. “We got to talking.”
Rebecca nodded, her attention on the task before her.
“It’s even worse than I thought,” Mattie said catching her breath. “Da Hah must have moved on your father. That’s all I can say. With us making the first move like this, it helps make things look much better. Miriam said Isaac has already had a hard time explaining all this at the ministers’ meetings. But don’t go telling anyone that. It was said in private to encourage us. Isaac is on our side. I’m sure that’s why Miriam told me.”
“Is John coming?” Rebecca felt the weariness settle on her shoulders again.
“Yes. Miriam said she would send him. He’s at work, of course, at Miller’s, but Miriam should know if he can come.”
“What time?”
“After supper. I asked Miriam to work it into John’s schedule. She said it wouldn’t be too late.”
With the hope from earlier gone, Rebecca asked, “What made things worse?”
“The deacon’s wife saw you talking with the Mennonite man, Manny Troyer.”
“I thought it was her,” Rebecca said.
“You shouldn’t hold it against her,” Mattie said, her voice firm. “You must say it looked out of order. Thankfully the letters are out of the house.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Would they have made things even worse?”
Rebecca nodded again. Her eyes stung, as the tears came.
“I thought so.” Her mother’s hand came around Rebecca’s shoulder, as she drew her close.
Rebecca wiped her eyes on her sleeve. The bread needed to be punched down. She slipped out of her mother’s embrace and washed her hands before she kneaded the dough. Her arms soon ached from the effort, and her mind spun.
“Did Emma have secrets?” Her mother’s voice reached her.
“Yes.”
“I thought so. Did they shake your faith?”
“Maybe.” Rebecca glanced up. Her eyes found her mother’s, and she smiled in spite of the tears. “I’m not Emma, though.”
“You are wise beyond your years sometimes. You’ll make John a good wife.”
“Don’t say that,” Rebecca gasped. The tears came in a flood.
“Let me do that. You’ll have the bread all soaked in tears.”
“Wouldn’t Matthew complain about that.”
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Mattie said chuckling.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of action, with seconds too short and hours that seemed to contain less minutes than the day before. Rolls filled the counter, while the bread still baked. By the time the timer went off, white powdered sugar frosting had been spread and the soft cinnamon rolls were all tied in plastic bags, the air gently pressed out.
When the schoolchildren came home, the pies were still baking in the oven. Supper became soup, simple and easy to make. It turned into a chore to make everyone eat soup with the abundance of sweets on all sides.
Portions of pie were soon cut out, given with care, and eaten without much talk. Although Mattie forbade any seconds, she gave in after listening to Matthew’s tender pleadings. Lester pronounced himself satisfied, rubbed his stomach, and then took a third thin slice of pie. This provoked a rush on the cinnamon rolls by the children.
Mattie, apparently thinking all order had been lost, rescued the rest of the rolls from the table, slid them into the pantry, and bodily stood by the doors. Lester laughed heartily and told her the danger had passed. When Mattie was convinced they really could eat no more, she returned and sat down to eat her own piece of apple pie.
The rattle of buggy wheels brought Rebecca to her feet and made her rush to her room upstairs. She was not about to let John see her in her soiled apron. While she changed, Mattie welcomed John in and organized the younger girls in the kitchen. When Rebecca came downstairs, Mattie left the girls to join Rebecca, John, and Lester in the living room.
Rebecca felt a shyness creep over her at the sight of John. She hoped her teary face didn’t show. He looked so strong and determined tonight, sitting there on the couch as if he would take her in his arms if all else should fail. She felt weak, from the exhausting day and the emotions of the moment. With a smile, she sat beside him. Her hands trembled.
“I’m glad you could come,” her father said, nodding in John’s direction.
“Anytime,” John said but offered nothing more.
“Keep your voice down,” Mattie whispered.
“Yes,” Lester said. “Do you think the girls should go upstairs?”
“They have to finish the dishes,” Mattie told him. “Can we wait?”
“We shouldn’t keep John waiting,” Lester said.
“That’s okay,” John assured them.
“If we talk quietly, it should be okay,” Mattie said and smiled in John’s direction.
“I think so,” Lester agreed and cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you and Rebecca about… Well, you know what, of course. We want to see if anything can be done. I’m not a minister, but perhaps… maybe something could be done.”
“Do you have any ideas?” John said, moving forward in his seat.
“Your mother said the deacon’s wife saw Rebecca with the Mennonite man.”
“Oh.” John looked toward Rebecca, a question in his eyes.
“Your mother just found out today,” Mattie said.
“I was down at the bridge,” Rebecca told him because he still waited, his eyes on her face. “The man brought me some letters. Emma’s. He’s the executor of the property. Emma wanted me to read them.”
“Were they written to you?” John asked.
“No,” Rebecca said and paused. “They were written to him, but she wanted me to read them.”
John seemed satisfied.
Lester cleared his throat again. “I have thought of something.”
John turned in Lester’s direction, his face serious. Rebecca felt hope rise in her heart.
“Perhaps if the two of you separated—maybe till after
fall communion—it would help calm things down a bit.”
“You’re not serious,” John said.
Rebecca gasped, her hand on her face.
“Lester,” Mattie told him, “that’s really not the correct approach. It would just make them look guilty for sure—like they had done something wrong.”
“I… really… I can’t do that,” John said. “I’m sorry.”
“Mattie’s probably right. It was just an idea,” Lester told him. “I wasn’t trying to make things worse.”
“I have a better idea,” John said, but Rebecca felt only despair, her heart still pounding.
“We should get married this fall—before communion,” John said, his voice firm. “I had suggested this earlier to Rebecca. Now perhaps, I’ll talk to my father. I really think it could be done.”
“Spunky fellow,” Lester said chuckling.
“This fall.” Mattie’s breath came sharply. “That’s soon. How in the world would we get ready? Oh, my… I just knew something like this would happen.”
“Do you think you could convince your father?” Lester asked.
“I do,” John said.
“Would you really?” Rebecca asked.
John turned to look at her. “Yes,” he said, his eyes glowing. “I would.”
“Then I could give the money back before next communion.” Rebecca felt like she could breathe again. The room faded away, and she saw only John, as hope rose strong and vibrant in her heart.
“Good enough with me,” Lester grinned.
“Have we got time?” her mother asked.
“Sounds like you’d better start planning,” Lester said chuckling again.
“That was wonderful of you,” Rebecca whispered thirty minutes later. She stood beside the buggy. John stood with her, ready to climb in.
He said nothing, but his fingers lightly traced her lips in the darkness. Then he was gone. She listened as the sound of his horse’s hooves lingered long on the night air.
Rebecca's Choice (The Adams County Trilogy 3) Page 21
