“I would like that.” John cleared his throat, his jaw tense.
“Has your father’s stroke anything to do with you and Rebecca?”
“We spoke last night,” John said but decided to offer no more. He still didn’t think it wise to get too far into this conversation, lest he have to reveal his final intentions. But one didn’t rebuff a bishop’s interest.
“Isaac told me how much he was burdened down with this. You are his only son, John, and have always been in the church standard. I must say this has troubled both of us plenty.”
“Rebecca has only spoken the truth,” John said. “She will return the money after the marriage. There is no other way to do this.”
“I know,” Bishop Martin sighed. “I must say this has gone on long enough. There is just nothing good coming out of all this. If we keep going on, with how people feel about this, soon we’ll have to do things we don’t want to. We’ll have to take steps—steps for which there is no real reason. What did you speak about to your father last night?”
“Of my talk with Lester and Mattie,” John said because he had to answer the question.
“Oh…” the bishop said showing interest.
“Lester asked me over. We talked with Rebecca and Mattie.”
“Did you come to any conclusion?”
John thought he shouldn’t but then blurted it out. “That we marry this fall—before communion time. That way Rebecca will have time to give back the money.”
“And Lester agreed with this?”
“Yes.”
“And your father? Did he think it would work?”
“No,” John said. “That was when I said some things. But I wanted Rebecca to be here for that.”
“He’s a good man.” The bishop smiled in the darkness, the living room light casting shadows on his beard. “So he thought it wouldn’t work?”
“Yes,” John said, surprised where the conversation was going.
“Then perhaps I should surprise him,” the bishop chuckled. “Relieve his mind. Especially now that Da Hah has spared him from a stroke.”
“But the deacon?” John caught his breath.
The bishop smiled again and lay his hand on John’s shoulder. “You leave the deacon to me, son. He’s the deacon. I’m the bishop. You two just go ahead and plan that wedding. Get it over with in time for communion. You won’t let me down, will you?”
“No,” John choked.
“You can tell your father. It might help him get better faster. I must attend the funeral. We’ll drive out tomorrow, I suppose. Keep us off the roads on Sunday.”
“Thank you,” John said.
“Don’t worry about it.” The bishop turned to leave. “Just take care of that girl.” Then he was gone, his walk slow. John thought he saw a limp in his step on the way to the buggy.
John struggled with his feelings. With the suddenness of their arrival, relief and guilt ran through him. He turned to go back into the house and thanked the two couples who had come. They were on their way out. Inside Aden and Esther were on their feet.
“There are leftovers,” Esther told him. “We left them for later. We’ll let you know if any calls come in on the answering machine.”
“Thanks,” he said again as they left.
Alone the reality of the bishop’s words came back. Relieved by the good news of his father’s health, he let the joy rise up. He was to be married—married to Rebecca—and he didn’t have to make good on his threat. He didn’t have to see his parents’ teary eyes or Rebecca’s. No decisions needed to be agonized over nor hearts broken, rather the path ahead was straight and smooth.
Then the knowledge that the purchase price had been partially paid by his father’s stroke came to him. It bothered him, but then he let the thought go. He couldn’t control everything. What was said needed to be said. Had it not turned out okay in the end?
True, Reuben Byler had died the same day, but he figured that was another matter. Tragic, yes, and sad, but he now had a full plate of responsibilities in front of him. He was to be a married man, a man with a wife and a home to support. And if Da Hah willed it, children to raise.
Upstairs he lay on the bed and let the wonder of it sweep over him. A gate, which he had often figured would never open, had opened. Not only had Rebecca agreed to marry him all that time ago, she had stayed with him and sorted out her feelings and desires that drew her to the past.
It didn’t seem fair that she had to go through so much in the past months. First, she had to deal with his jealousy, the accident, the uncertainty of whether he would walk again, then Emma’s passing. That had been the last trial. So suddenly it had come. So out of the blue, and yet Rebecca had weathered the storm.
Not only had she made it through, but more than that, she had seemed to grow more beautiful with each difficulty she survived. He could not be more blessed, of this he was certain. Da Hah had seen fit to bless him with a truly wonderful girl.
He closed his eyes, but sleep didn’t come. There were so many things needing to be done. The renters on his place would have to be notified. Thankfully there was a clause in his contract where a thirty-day notice could be given.
He decided it would be given right away. Even if a little early, they needed plenty of time to clean and repaint the house. Rebecca might even want to change some things, and he could only imagine them as wonderful changes. If he could afford it, they would be made.
Sleep came much later, but all night he dreamed—dreams awash with Rebecca, the house on the hill, the stream that flowed behind it, and the beauty of her face in his hands.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Morning brought another phone call from the Cincinnati hospital and a request from Miriam for taxi transportation home. The doctors, she said, expressed great delight in Isaac’s progress. Apparently Isaac’s stroke had not set in till the early morning hours, and so the clot had been removed in time. His recovery was nothing less than dramatic. By that evening Isaac would be able to walk, Miriam said, so there was no need for a special handicap van.
His joy at the bishop’s news nearly exploding inside him, John had planned to visit Rebecca that evening after his duties at Miller’s Furniture, but this trip to pick up his father took priority. The news, he figured, would be none the worse for its late transmittal. Rebecca would understand.
Aden’s wife, Esther, rode along. They hired Mrs. Coldwell, who lived in Unity. She often drove her van on taxi trips for the Amish. John sat on the first bench seat. Esther sat in the front. He listened as Esther filled Mrs. Coldwell in on the details of Isaac’s illness and recovery.
“They have quite the techniques for stroke victims,” Mrs. Coldwell commented when Esther was done.
“We are thankful,” Esther told her. “It would have been awful to see Isaac struck down in his old age.”
“Comes hard enough already,” Mrs. Coldwell agreed. “You folks don’t have insurance.”
“No.” Esther shook her head.
“Expensive. That treatment has to be,” Mrs. Coldwell said glancing sideways.
“I know,” Esther replied nodding.
John remembered the conversation at the hospital, forgotten in all the rush of things. There would be a bill to pay—a right big one. For a brief moment, he thought of Rebecca’s money. It would be easy to use some of that, pay off the bill and unburden his parents.
As soon as it came, he rejected the thought. It would be dishonest, a betrayal that would only open the door to even greater ones. He could imagine the hurt on Rebecca’s face, if he were to even ask for such a thing.
When they arrived at the hospital, John walked in with Esther, while Mrs. Coldwell waited in the van. She said she would pull up when she saw them come out. Miriam had Isaac already checked out and in the front waiting room. John approached them, emotions strong in his chest. He knew they had been spared a great tragedy.
“I’m so sorry about the other night,” were his first words after Isaac’s embrace.
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“You shouldn’t say such things,” his mother said from beside them.
“It was not your fault, son,” Isaac assured him. “I had this coming a long time. I guess your mother was right.”
“Of course I was,” Miriam said, but tears brightened her cheeks.
“It is good to see you and so well,” Esther told Isaac and shook his hand.
“I’ll be eating rabbit food from now on,” Isaac said chuckling. “Miriam got the list. Doctor’s orders.”
“You’ve heard that before,” Esther told him. “This time you’d better listen.”
“He will.” Miriam’s voice was grim.
“Oh, well…” Isaac said sighing, “there will still be pleasures in life, I suppose.”
“Having you around in good health will be one of them,” Miriam told him. “You have the van outside?”
“Mrs. Coldwell is waiting,” Esther said, as she moved toward the door.
On the drive back, John sat in the second seat back and listened to the questions about his father’s hospital stay and surgery. Isaac obviously remembered little of it.
“The first thing I remember is waking up and my head hurting,” Isaac told them. “That must have been after the surgery.”
“That’s how bad it was,” Miriam said, her face still drawn.
“I guess Da Hah had mercy on me,” Isaac said and chuckled.
“We needed to hear you preach again,” Esther told him.
“Oh… he is a preacher,” Mrs. Coldwell said as she remembered.
“Don’t take Esther’s word on the preaching,” Isaac informed her.
“Don’t take his either,” Miriam said. “He’s good. I’ll take him any day.”
“Now… now,” Isaac said, taking her hand in his. “Da Hah has been good to us.”
It was already late by the time they got back. John had entertained thoughts of a trip over to the Keim place yet but decided against it. He followed his father’s slow steps into the house and helped him into his chair.
“Bedtime for me,” Isaac said grinning. “Real soon.”
“You’re eating something first,” Miriam informed him. “The stuff they feed you at hospitals—it’s frightening.”
She brought him a slice of leftover meat loaf, from last night’s food preparation, and lettuce. Isaac made a face but ate it. John sat with his father but knew he wouldn’t last too long. Tiredness swept over his body. The events of the last few days, he thought, had sapped more of his strength than he had been aware of.
“You must talk to the bishop tomorrow,” Isaac said. “Perhaps he will understand.”
“He won’t be here,” John told him. “There is a funeral in Milroy.”
“Oh, no,” Miriam said from the kitchen. “I forgot to tell you Reuben Byler died. He fell off a stepladder.”
“Reuben,” Isaac said, his voice quiet, “he wasn’t that old.”
“No,” Miriam agreed and came into the living room to sit beside him. John sat with them in silence. The light of the gas lantern hissed above their heads.
“Da Hah does as He sees best,” Isaac said. “His ways are above ours. He leaves some and takes others.”
Miriam stroked his arm, her eyes full of tears.
“I wish you could speak with Bishop soon,” Isaac told John. “This thing weighs heavy on me.”
“He already spoke with me,” John offered, now that it seemed appropriate.
“Bishop did?” Isaac said looking up.
“Yes. He said Lester’s plan would be okay.”
John saw joy leap into his father’s eyes.
“Da Hah sei lohb,” he said. “He is worthy.”
“What made Bishop change his mind?” Miriam asked.
“I don’t know for sure,” John said. “I suspect it was Dad’s accident.”
“Really,” Miriam said, “you think so?”
“Then it was worth it all.” Isaac reached out to grip John’s arm. “It was the right thing for Bishop to do. I am so glad. Now you are…” Isaac’s voice choked. “You will be with us, the way it ought to be.”
“You weren’t serious, were you?” Miriam asked him. “About going Mennonite?”
John was silent. He hadn’t expected his mother to ask the question.
“He was,” Isaac said.
Miriam raised her eyebrows, so John nodded.
“But… Mennonite. Not really. You wouldn’t now, would you?” His mother’s eyes pleaded with him.
“No.” John shook his head. “I never did want to. It just wasn’t right the way Rebecca was being used. I thought I had to do something.”
“Da Hah respects an honest heart,” Isaac said. “You are a good boy. We can be thankful you received help.”
“You can say that,” Miriam said. “Mennonite. You don’t think Rebecca would have gone with you?”
“I have no idea,” John told her. “I wasn’t going to tell Rebecca till together we talked with Bishop.”
“The follies of youth.” Miriam sighed. “Are you ready for bed, Isaac?”
“More than ready,” he told her.
John watched as his mother helped his father toward the bedroom. His face looked tired, his body weary, but underneath John knew his father’s heart was full of joy—joy that his son had found the right answer to his problem, joy that the faith they believed in had stood the test, joy that though so much had depended on the actions of men and women, vessels made of clay, things had turned out okay.
Tomorrow John would see Rebecca, and he would tell her the good news. Sleep came easily for him, and he dreamed no dreams all night. He woke with the alarm clock, since even on Sunday mornings, chores had to be done. Both his parents would stay home from church, he figured, and his mother told him at the breakfast table his assumption was correct.
To leave early had no purpose, but John still drove out of the driveway ten minutes ahead of time, such was his eagerness to see Rebecca. Perhaps, he figured, he could catch a glimpse of her when she arrived. The family would likely come in the buggy, with Rebecca’s aunt in the van they had hired. He doubted whether the Keim buggies could hold both family and visitors.
He parked his buggy and shook hands down the line of men and boys, then took his place and waited. His face must have showed his excitement because Will, who stood beside him, teased, “You’ll see her in church.”
John jumped.
Will must have put his imagination in high gear immediately. “You’re not being published today, are you?” he asked John.
John’s voice caught. “No,” he said, but Will still looked suspicious.
“Just good news,” John told him, in the hopes Will would be satisfied.
“She already said the good word, didn’t she?”
“Yes.” John couldn’t help but grin. “Just more of the same.”
“Okay, be mysterious.” With that Will turned to speak to the boy beside him.
John got what he waited for a few minutes later. The van carrying the Keim visitors pulled in first and parked off to the side. Lester, in the surrey, came in soon afterward and stopped by the front walk. While Mattie and her younger girls climbed down, Rebecca appeared with her aunt from the van.
Together the shawl-wrapped women walked up the concrete walk. John thought he saw Rebecca glance his way but couldn’t be certain. Ten minutes later, when the line of men and boys moved indoors, he caught Rebecca’s eye. The hint of a smile played on her face. He sat down on the hard bench and held himself back from a steady stare in her direction.
When the songs started, he was asked to lead in the praise song. He gladly agreed, even though he wasn’t that good at it. The energy came more from his heart than his ability to stay on tune with all the ups and downs of Amish German hymn singing. Nothing could dim his happiness today though, even when he stumbled on the second line and had to receive help from the song leader.
After the last line was sung, he dared to glance at Rebecca and saw her eyes twinkle with mirth.
He felt as if his heart could hold no more joy. By the time the service was done and dinner was eaten, he could hardly contain his news either.
“What are you grinning about?” she asked him, when she climbed into the buggy. “You really shouldn’t try to lead songs.”
He ignored the remark. “Bishop talked with me.”
“Oh…” She settled down on the seat beside him. “He did?”
“Yes. We can get married this fall.”
“Oh, John,” she said, reaching for his arm, “did he really?”
He nodded and knew his face glowed with his joy.
“Such good news. Oh, John. And right after your father’s illness. Do good and bad things always happen together?”
John slapped the lines. The horse in line behind him was impatient, its nose already tight against his back.
“One may, in fact, have had something to do with the other. I think Bishop wanted to give Dad good news.”
“Then all thing do work out.”
“Seems so. Are you happy that we can marry sooner?”
“Yes,” she said but avoided his eyes because of the tears on her cheeks. “It seems almost wrong to be so happy.”
“I’ll talk to the renters tomorrow,” John told her. “I can hardly believe it myself.”
“Leona wants us to come to our place for supper tonight. They’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Miss the singing?” John asked.
“Yes, it’s worth it. Leona doesn’t visit too often. Plus, we’re almost old people now. Singings are a thing of the past.”
“Not quite,” John said chuckling, “though not soon enough for me.”
He put his arm around her and pulled her close, as they drove across the Harshville covered bridge.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Leona and her family left at dawn on Monday morning. Rebecca got back in from chores in time to sit with her aunt for a few minutes at the breakfast table. Mattie had prepared a separate breakfast for her sister’s family to give them an early start.
Rebecca's Choice (The Adams County Trilogy 3) Page 25
