by Linda Byler
They finally exchanged gifts. Daniel sat opposite her, much too close and much too directly in the light of the gas lamp. She kept her eyes lowered most of the time, acknowledging Tina Lapp’s effusive thanks for the glass vase and willow branches, saying she didn’t have anything like it. Becky thought, no, you have everything else, her attitude turning as sour as the warm red punch in her plastic Dixie cup.
Tina was one spoiled youngest daughter. Becky had spent hours going from one expensive shop to the next, looking for a unique gift, something Tina would appreciate. Tonight, it all just irked her.
She opened her own gift, an oblong box decorated with an elaborate handmade bow, in silver. The wrapping was foil, with swirls of red, white, and silver that matched the bow perfectly. Someone surely had this gift-wrapped at the mall or some fancy store, she thought.
My goodness. A set of plush white bath towels, hand towels, and washcloths.
She opened the card carefully, a small white card emblazoned with one glittery red ornament that matched the wrapping paper. “Merry Christmas, Daniel Stoltzfus.”
Becky gathered every ounce of courage she could scrape up, faced Daniel Stoltzfus squarely, and told him the towels were lovely, thanking him around the huge lump in her throat and a dozen nervous jumps in her stomach. She actually felt the color drain from her face and felt her mouth turn into sandpaper. For one wild moment she thought she might faint.
How could he have known? It was uncanny. White towels. The beginning of her dreamed-of bathroom. Had he read her thoughts?
Daniel let the warmth in his eyes radiate to Becky, the narrow shafts of blue like a possibility, the perhaps of a promise.
Becky berated her lack of confidence where Daniel was concerned, unable to understand her own inability to stand up for herself, to walk across the room and engage him in conversation the way she had always done before. Was it the newfound knowledge that she loved him? Did fear of rejection play a part?
She only knew she was miserable. The evening and all its brilliance and color had muted into a dull gray and white with black undertones. It had turned into a Christmas evening to be forgotten, or stored away in that part of her brain that kept things hidden well, a cringeworthy event that wrecked every ounce of her self-esteem.
Well, okay. If Junior wouldn’t take her home, she was leaving. She had had enough. With all her usual pluck, she thanked Ada warmly and hugged her, shook Steve’s hand, and without telling anyone, went to the bedroom. She dressed herself warmly in her wool overcoat, boots, gloves, and scarf, let herself out the door, and headed down the road, looking neither left nor right.
The country road was clean, the macadam cold, black, hard, and sparkling in the moonlight, the two yellow lines clearly visible. Dark pines thrust their pointed tops into the night sky like the teeth of a huge saw. The stars above winked and blinked, cold little bursts of white light, subject to King Moon. All the little stars were the citizens of its kingdom, all in their order and place.
Well, God created an awesome world, naming each star and creating every person on Earth according to His will. So it was up to Him to move Daniel. She didn’t have the power.
In all things other than Daniel, I do have plenty of spunk. Confrontation with the Salomes and Nancys and Mommys of this world—no problem. I can talk freely to older people, make friends for life with Harold Epstein, even tell the Round Oaks administrator a thing or two, which had obviously not been appreciated.
She was a failure now, though, because of Daniel.
The night air was crisp and cold, so cold, in fact, that it hurt her throat, probably from all that awful red punch, she thought.
She figured she had about three and a half miles to go, but that was all right. No one was on these country roads after midnight anyway. If they were, it would be rather scary though. What if a carload of unsavory characters came barrelling over the next rise and decided to make off with her? They’d have a hard time dragging her off, that was sure. She could arm wrestle Jake and Junior down pretty easily, so there you were.
She shivered, pulling her scarf closer. She passed two houses set in the middle of a hill, without trees or shrubs to break up the square structures set on the white expanse. Like hotels on a Monopoly board. Not even porches. She had never noticed those two houses before. Well, in the dark, everything was changed, even the silhouettes of everyday houses.
She had almost passed them when a dark blur to her left caught her attention. She was barely aware of any sound at all, only the whisper of padded feet on snow and the realization that there was now a dark shape following her soundlessly. She gathered all her senses and became alive, calculating, taking stock of her situation.
Dogs that bark and wag their tails are not dangerous.
Dogs that bark and show their teeth are dangerous.
Dogs that do not bark but slink after you are dangerous.
Never look a dog in the eye. Keep walking. Don’t panic. If you are afraid, they can smell it and they will bite you.
She turned her head slightly. He wasn’t there. Good. He left. Lost interest.
She turned her head to the other side. Oops. Oh, my word. He’s right behind me.
The backs of her legs tingled, waiting for the chomp that was sure to come. She could feel the sharp canine teeth break the skin above her boots.
She increased her stride, her breath coming in quick puffs.
He was still there, still walking without sound to her right.
Reasonably, Becky figured, if this deadly stalk continued for any length of time, the fact that she would be bitten by this dog would be secondary to her demise caused by a heart attack. How could one dependable organ suddenly go so haywire?
Either way, dog bite or heart attack (“Coronary”? No, “cardiac arrest,” is what Harold called it), one was bound to happen, so she may as well behave like a grown-up. Face the situation head-on. It had to be easier than facing Daniel next to that propane gas light that was brighter than the sun.
Becky stopped, fully expecting the piercing of her leg by the evil, shadowy dog slinking behind her. Slowly she turned.
She stood still, watching in disbelief as she saw the dark figure of a little dog, back arched and ready to flee. She glimpsed its face, with its hurried, despairing look, and its matted tail, tucked between two back legs.
“Dog!” Becky said. She hadn’t planned to talk to the dog. But she didn’t know what else to do, now that the dog cowered before her, far more afraid of her than she had been of it.
Becky clapped her hands to chase it away, but she was rewarded with the steady thumping of a tail. A high whine sounded from the region of the dog’s head, although it was hard to tell exactly where the sound was coming from, the way its head was lowered and turned back.
Becky drew closer, then reached out a hand. The tail began wagging furiously. In the pale light of the moon, with the snow’s sparkle reflecting the light, she could see that the dog was thin and shivering, its fur matted, wet, and dirty.
Becky watched the dog, then looked again at the houses etched against the night sky like two dark ghosts. She thought of the Christmas package she was carrying with the thick, white towels. Overwhelming pity for the cold, starving creature started like a cat’s purring and rose steadily within her until she dropped to her knees and reached out to the freezing and frightened dog.
She tore at the Christmas package, grabbed a towel, and swaddled the little dog, wrapping it closely while it wriggled furiously, repeatedly trying to lick her face, whining and yelping with happiness all the while.
She’d take the dog up to the houses, ring doorbells or knock or whatever, and find out who its owners happened to be. It was quite a climb up the hillside on packed snow, carrying the bundle that now lay still while clutching the remainder of her Christmas package.
At the first house, the shadows created by the silver moonlight gave her the creeps. What if a large dog burst out of the door or the owners became irate? She was waken
ing them in the middle of the night.
She rang the bell, putting the tip of her index finger on the oblong glow of orange light and listening to the pealing sound somewhere in the depth of the square house. She waited, holding the dog, who lay surprisingly still for all the wriggling it had done before.
There were sounds of shuffling feet, and then a voice called out, anxious, thin, and crackly.
“Did you lose a dog?” Becky asked hopefully.
The door was flung open by the biggest woman Becky had ever seen. She was all of six feet tall with an enormous girth, the belt of her bathrobe hanging loose like an untied shoe. Her hair was done up in a silk kerchief, and she was as dark as the door behind her. She began to praise the Lord immediately, lifting her large face to the sky and thanking God with all the strength and power of her stalwart frame.
She reached for the dog, crooning, “Tinker, Tinker, Tinker.” Holding it to her face, she kissed it repeatedly, then moved across the foyer to call up the stairs in a tone of voice that sounded like a bugling elk. High and fierce.
They were soon joined by another massive human being who lumbered carefully down the steps, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands, blinking, and commanding his wife to calm down with the yelling. When she thrust the small bundle into his arms, she was rewarded by a loud burst of praise and thanksgiving, followed by a raucous snort as tears glistened on their way down his dark, well rounded cheeks.
“My baby. My baby!” he chanted over and over as the thin little dog wriggled and lapped at his face.
Becky stood in the cold on the stone doorstep, unsure of what to do next as the couple lost themselves in more loud words of praise, sobbing and crying, laughing, and passing the dog from one to the other. The new white towel was no longer white where it had covered the dog.
By and by they asked Becky to come in, have tea, and warm herself. They pressed a thick roll of bills into her hand, then launched effusive thanks all over again.
“You have no idea, honey, no idea, how we’ve suffered. She’s our baby. She was gone for almost a week,” the lady said, becoming quite breathless between sips of her tea. Her husband was heating ham bits and broth as he dried the little dog with his own towel. He had handed the new dirty one to Becky as if it was the robe of a king.
Becky was finally on her way about an hour later, the roll of bills in her coat pocket a comforting bulge and reward for all she’d been through. She smiled to herself about these very large people with the little dog they obviously loved as if it were a child.
What Becky did not know was the frantic activity at Steve’s and Ada’s house when Junior discovered that she was nowhere to be found.
No one had seen her leave. Yes, her coat was missing, her boots and her Christmas package. Everyone thought about it. She had not been her usual self, but why would she disappear? Junior felt especially responsible, having refused to take her home when she was ready.
Steve and Ada had retired for the night, but after a while someone wakened them, desperate to see what they might know. Oh, yes, she’d told them good-bye. She was walking home, she said.
“Walking?” Junior shouted.
“What is wrong with her?” Jake echoed. “She knows it’s not safe.”
General chaos followed as the boys dressed in their winter clothes and went out to get cold, restless horses hitched to creaking, frozen buggies. Becky was suddenly on everyone’s mind.
Daniel’s face was like stone. He showed no emotion and said nothing. His eyes were cold and calculating as he measured the distance in his mind, the hour at which she’d left, the hills, the deep pine forests, the stretches of road that were lined with houses where she’d be safe, if something had happened.
No, it was not safe for one lone girl to walk a dark country road by herself. He knew Becky was strong, but she was not strong enough to thwart an assailant, especially if there was more than one. Heartsick, his fingers trembled against the cold snaps of the britchment. He wanted to blame someone, anyone. He felt like strangling Junior. Why hadn’t he taken her when she asked?
The image of Becky’s unusually sad face stayed with him as he turned his horse, who reared, snorted, and then plunged into the night, scattering hard bits of snow and gravel as his hooves dug into the frozen ground.
Becky was visiting with her newfound friends, oblivious to the fact that she had caused quite an uproar.
They did not find her at home, which brought on near panic. Dat and Mam were brought stumbling from their beds in disbelief. Dat calmed everyone by saying one team should drive back to Steve’s and Ada’s house and make sure she hadn’t changed her mind and stayed, perhaps falling asleep somewhere, if she hadn’t been herself. Mam said she had been coughing and sniffling around that day.
Without a word again, Daniel charged out the drive and down the road, the buggy swerving dangerously as he goaded his horse, his heart like the weight of a cement block near the region of his stomach. Waves of nausea and fear overcame him. He had never prayed out loud the way some folks did, but he did now. He begged God to help him, to help Becky.
“You know I’ve been waiting till she’s old enough. You know how hard it’s been, how great the sacrifice. Why would this happen now?”
Over and over, he berated himself for lost opportunities, for time he now felt had been wasted.
He saw the dark figure at a mailbox, but being so distraught he didn’t believe it was Becky at first. When he saw the torn Christmas package, he stifled the sob in his throat, knowing that men, real men, don’t cry about one girl who has lost her way.
Becky stood waiting for the fast moving team to pass her so she could continue on home. But the horse was suddenly pulled to a stop, rather violently she thought, the door was pushed back, and Daniel jumped to the ground, very tall and very upset, loudly asking her what she thought she was doing, traipsing around the dark countryside at this hour, knowing full well it was completely unsafe for a young woman to do something so foolish. Why didn’t she tell them she was leaving? Where had she been when all those teams were charging down the road, and none of them getting as much as a glimpse of her?
Daniel stamped his feet and swung his head, jerked on the reins and called, “Whoa!” about every thirty seconds when his horse wanted to run.
Becky’s eyes became wide with disbelief, then wonder. This was Daniel, the calm, the unperturbed, always in control, always kind one. Yet here he was, yelling at her like she was a first-grader caught stealing candy, making her feel positively furious.
“Stop yelling at me!” she shouted.
“I’ll yell if I want to. You should be spanked. Get in the buggy!” Daniel shouted right back.
“No! I’ll walk.”
“Get in.”
“What do you care if I walk home?”
Daniel lifted his face to the sky in frustration, knowing too late that this was going all wrong. Lowering his voice, he said more kindly, his words scalloped with anxiety, “Your parents are waiting to hear from me before they call the police.”
Becky’s mouth fell open. She squeaked only a bit, like a mouse, before she climbed into the buggy and sat, her hands folded around the ruined Christmas package and the white towel.
The steel wheels scraped against the iron roller as Daniel made a sharp turn. Her head flew back as the horse lunged against the collar, taking off in the opposite direction as horses will do when it’s cold and they are tired and want to get home to their cozy box stall with a fresh block of good timothy hay.
Total silence in the buggy. Only once did Becky have the nerve to turn her eyes sideways, finding Daniel’s profile formidable. Mount Rushmore. Etched in stone. Whoo.
She was amazed at the number of buggies parked in the lane. Every light in the house was burning, turning the dark windows into rectangles of yellow, welcoming light. Thankfully, there were no police cars.
Becky was embarrassed, but assured them all that she was fine—and would likely have remained fine witho
ut all the hullabaloo. She must have been visiting with the Joneses she said, telling the group about the little dog named Tinker. She thought everyone was making an unnecessary fuss, for sure.
Mam shivered, looked positively mortified by her brash approach to finding the dog’s owner. She told Becky a bit coldly to get to her bed. It was late and she needed her sleep. Mommy would be awake early, banging around, wanting her tea and toast-brod.
Becky almost said, “Well now, ain’t that somepin’?” But she didn’t. Only your mother could irk you in that special way, making you feel like nothing but trouble. Someday she would write a book of “Mother-isms,” a whole list of things mothers say without thinking of the consequences.
A hand at her elbow made her turn to find Daniel. “Come with me, Becky. For a buggy ride.”
The last thing on her mind just then was Daniel and being married to him. Or her complete puzzlement about how to have a relationship with him. So she blurted, “Why?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“What about?”
“Becky.”
“You heard my mother. Time for me to go to bed.”
“Please. Come with me for a buggy ride.”
So Becky went, minus the heart palpitations, the worry, the longing. She felt nothing at all.
The horse must have resigned himself to steady traveling after the excitement of the previous hour, leaving Daniel relaxed. One hand expertly manipulated the reins, while the one nearest Becky found her hand and held it lightly.
“Becky, the reason I became so upset is probably evident, right?”
“I never knew you could become quite so rattled. Why?”
“Well, I was afraid something had happened to you. I can’t deal with a future without you in it.”
At first, his words had a dreamlike quality, as if they came from a distance. “I’m not real good with words, so I’ll just tell you that I’m still waiting.”
