by Miranda Rush
Then again, it was a lot of “maybes.”
She again thought of his hard eyes and shivered in the warm evening air.
Chapter 3
Rebekah’s mother and sisters fairly buzzed with activity in preparing for her wedding. Her mother wrote all the family and friends near and far. Shopping lists were made for the tremendous amount of food it would take to feed all the guests, known and unknown. Not atypical of Amish weddings and funerals, one did not have to receive an invitation or be acquainted with the hosts in order to go. Any excuse to come together to socialize and eat was reason enough.
Rebekah thought of her cousin in Wisconsin, who was to be married in less than two weeks. She was about Rebekah’s age and had worked until just recently as a schoolteacher. Did she have the same apprehension about her marriage as Rebekah did her own? Surely there must be someone who was as abhorrent as she was at the thought of waking up each morning next to a man whom she didn’t even want touching her. And it will be like that forever. There could be no escape.
She was braiding her long copper hair for the third time. Nervousness was making her fingers thick and stupid, unable to work properly. Wishing this evening was already over, Rebekah took a deep breath and tried to take her mind off the source of her anxiety.
“Rebekah! Hurry! He will be here any moment.” Her mother’s voice came from downstairs. The petite Amish girl pressed her lips together in a grimace and finished the braid. She secured it around her head with pins, and put on her white bonnet.
“I’m coming now,” she answered back. She smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of her dress with damp hands while muttering a prayer that things would go as she hoped; she could be at ease, and they could start to be friends. “Oh, please God, don’t let me act like a foolish child.” Her inner Amish perfectionist kicked her. Even that prayer is a selfish one. She stood for a moment at the top of the stairs to put her breathing in check before proceeding to the living room. All will be fine. She tried to talk to herself as Leah would at this moment. Just smile. All will be fine.
She walked into the living room just as the knock came and although she was closest to the door, she could not make herself move forward to open it. Her father, arching his eyebrows at her over the rims of his glasses, passed by her and opened it instead.
There stood Ezekiel Yoder. He was empty handed and blank of face but greeted her father and mother respectfully. Everybody treats Father respectfully. He is an Elder. Then Ezekiel turned to Rebekah and her stomach dropped. He gave her the same stare she had become accustomed to seeing from him and the room fell silent. He said nothing, his face expressionless. The silence seemed endless. As Rebekah’s father started to open his mouth to speak, Rebekah remarkably found her voice.
“Good evening Ezekiel.” It was a little more than a squeak. Summoning the nerve somehow, she gave him the smallest of nervous smiles, meeting his unyielding eyes as long as she could stand it.
Just when she thought she could not take it another instant, her father saved her. “Take your hat, Ezekiel?” Which produced a grunt and a straw hat handed first to her father and then to her mother, who put it in the closet while he and Ezekiel sat down in rocking chairs by the window to talk. Relieved, Rebekah backed away to assist her mother and sisters with putting dinner on the table.
Throughout the meal, the two men spoke to each other without a sound from the women. Not only were the women not engaged, they seemed not to exist at all. Rebekah looked to her younger sister Hannah, with whom she shared a bed at night but had little else in common. Hannah was making kissing motions in the air at her.
Aghast, she stared back into her lap. What does he think of me now? He must think her forward or worse. Maybe he now thought she wanted him to kiss her. Oh no! Maybe he’ll try to kiss me. Gathering her courage, she shot him a furtive glance. Neither man appeared to have noticed anything. Hannah smirked and put a forkful of food into her mouth. Glaring at Hannah, she picked up her own fork and pushed food around on her plate. Her mother beamed at her, reassuring. She tried to smile back and failed miserably.
Finally, dinner was over and Rebekah got up to help clear the table, exhaling a near visible sigh of relief. Thank God that’s over. But a reprieve was not to be hers. Her mother thrust a coffeepot into her hands. “Go give them some coffee,” she urged, causing her daughter’s heart to drop once more. I have to get close to him to serve him. She felt her normally graceful limbs grow thick. Please don’t let me spill coffee on him, please God, she prayed. She got two mugs for the men and, placing them down, steadied her grip and poured her father’s cup first. He cordially thanked her. Then she repeated her hushed prayer and served Ezekiel.
He utterly ignored her. He brought the cup to his lips and sipped, but did not even so much as look up at her. It took her a few seconds before she realized that he wasn’t going to acknowledge her in any way whatsoever. In an instant she envisioned the rest of her life with this man. Is this the way it is going to be like? Even in as much as her parents never showed any real warmth towards each other, they always treated each other with courtesy and respect. Befuddled, she turned and walked back toward the kitchen.
Sailing towards her, Rebekah’s mother took her by the elbow, steering her back into the living room and took the coffeepot away.
“Why don’t we leave these two alone a bit to get better acquainted?” Her mother’s voice rang in her ears, summoning In Rebekah something close to panic. Exactly what she didn’t want! Don’t leave me alone with him! Her father chuckled and, picking up his coffee cup, left the room with his wife.
Reluctantly, Rebekah took the seat her father had occupied. She stared at her hands, struggling to come up with something, anything to say. Give him a chance, Leah had said.
She squirmed in her chair. “Nice weather.”
She glanced at him. He was staring at her, reticent. Had he even heard her?
Give him a chance. Rebekah gulped and spoke a bit louder. “It’s a nice night.”
He blinked. “Yeah.”
Quiet again. Just those eyes boring into her. What does he want from me? The oxygen was leaving the room. The grandfather clock scratched the passing seconds loudly in her ears.
Finally, she thought of something to say. “How are your children?” Has Jakob tortured any animals lately?
He nodded slightly, his eyes never wavering, “Gud.” His Amish Pennsylvania Dutch accent was suddenly getting heavier.
“That’s good.”
The hush fell again. Rebekah couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say. Why do you want to marry me? You don’t even want to talk to me. Suddenly, her fear was leaving her, being replaced with scorn. On second thought, I don’t want to talk to you either. The years of painful silence with him stretched out before her in her mind. Oh, we are going to have a great marriage!
Unable to think of anything else to say, she sat looking past him outside the window, wishing something would happen to deliver her from this moment. Some miracle to rescue her from this future that loomed in front of her and threatened to choke the very life out of her. Whereas just a moment ago she felt disdain, now anguish threatened to swallow her whole.
Ezekiel continued to gawk. The second hand of the clock made scraping noises in dead air. I wish he would not keep looking at me like this. It reminded her of the time they went to the zoo and all the people were gaping at the animals. It’s like I’m an interesting sort of bird or something—anything but a person. There was, again the feeling of being nothing but an object to be possessed or bartered or traded: ‘my daughter for you looking over us in our old age.’
A war within was beginning. One side deeply desired to be a dutiful Amish woman, marry as she should and bear as many children as God would bless her with. The other side desperately wanted to break free, not of being Amish altogether, but of all the dues currently taxing her. She wanted to be free to choose her own husband, someone she would care for, not someone to be tolerated at the very best.
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br /> After what seemed to be an interminable amount of time, Rebekah looked at the clock. They had been sitting there for half an hour in the stillness.
I’m sorry God. I can only endure so much. Her emotions were now as chilly as Ezekiel’s expression.
Standing up, she met Ezekiel’s eyes. “Thank you for coming for dinner,” she said bleakly, then excused herself and left the room.
Chapter 4
Dust the shelves. Wipe off the cans and boxes of food. Sweep and mop the wood floor. Rebekah went about her work in silence, the only sound being the brushing of the broom against the floor. For once, there was no humming, no soft singing, no whistling, nothing. There was only . . . deadness.
Outside the windows, the early summer sun shone bright and warm, but nothing of summer existed for her. And it never would again. Nothing matters, nothing. I don’t matter, either. The deadness engulfed her, flattening her usual buoyancy of spirit. Her heart would die never having been awakened.
She tried not to think about it, but all she could think of was Ezekiel’s sullenness, his gross lack of respect, the dirt beneath his fingernails, and his breath that smelled like rotting vegetation. Or the outhouse, she thought miserably, realizing that his disgusting mouth would be on hers in a matter of just weeks. She recoiled from the mental image of his mouth kissing her and his hands touching her. Oh dear God, please help me find something to be happy about, something of which to find joy in all of this.
After that horrible evening when Ezekiel had come to the house for dinner, Rebekah no longer prayed for an escape from her fate. Yet, she was a long way from cheerful acceptance as she knew was expected of her. Instead, she dreamed of somehow making these next few weeks last an eternity so that she would never have to hold hands with this horrid man and make the vow. She thought of past contentment, before she knew that she was to marry and how blessed she had truly been. Now it was all going to change.
Before, she had always moved with perky energy as she completed her tasks. Now she felt empty and drained. Moving took tremendous effort and her stomach ached as though she had been kicked by a horse. Oh dear God, please, this can’t last forever. Then she thought of the past two Sundays at church where Ezekiel’s eyes never left her but he never smiled nor spoke a word to her even after the meetings or during the noon meal as Rebekah hoped he might. She knew that it was going to be dark and cold for the rest of her life.
She was so immersed in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice the man until he had been in the store for several minutes. She glanced up at the sound of his greeting.
“Hi!” It was Nick Collins, the American man, or “the English” as the Amish referred to non-Amish, who drove their family often to get store supplies or to see family that was far away.
“Good day,” she muttered glumly. The irony did not escape her. Good day, indeed. No, it was not a good day. It was a very bad day, all things considered.
At her reply, Nick studied her face closely and walked over to the counter where she was standing putting price labels on cans of soup.
“Hey . . . are you okay?” His voice was soft, concerned. Inexplicably, she began to shake.
She didn’t look up. She didn’t dare. No one else other than Leah knew her secret. No one else could know, especially an English. English couldn’t understand Amish ways. They couldn’t understand Amish hearts. But if he can’t see how I feel, why am I trembling?
“I’m fine,” she mouthed, nearly voiceless. She steadied her quivering and repeated her words, louder this time. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. You look like you just lost your best friend.” This is not good. How could she make the Community believe she was cheerfully swallowing her fate, if she couldn’t fool this English?
She peeked at him cautiously. He had probably driven her somewhere at least a dozen times, but she had never really looked at him before. As a modest Amish girl, she wasn’t supposed to pay him any attention. But now in this moment of being caught with her raw emotions showing, the boundaries between English and Amish blurred a little.
He was tall and tightly muscled, possessing smooth, fine facial features and a mouth that perpetually wanted to smile, even when he was serious. His hands were long, slender and immaculate and he had longish, dark, curly locks. But it was his eyes that Rebekah found most arresting. Eyes that were deep and brown and fringed with thick dark lashes: they were the kindest eyes she’d ever seen.
“I-I-I will b-b-be alright,” she stammered.
“You sure?” He wasn’t giving up yet.
He actually cares how I feel! The thought filled her with warmth that she didn’t quite understand. In her life, her mother cared about her learning the duties of being an Amish woman. Her father cared about her immortal soul. Only Leah had ever cared about how she felt. But here was this stranger, this man, this English who appeared quite genuinely to care. It was quite disconcerting, intriguing, and heartening all at the same time. Abruptly, she pushed away such thoughts.
“It’s not important.” I’m not important. He couldn’t understand that only following God’s will was important and God wanted her to marry Ezekiel.
Nick seemed to see her thoughts. “Of course it’s important. How you feel is very important.”
“What is important is obedience to God.” She tried to sound resolute. Instead, the rote words quavered. Oh dearest God, Father in Heaven, please don’t let me lose my control in front of this English.
“God wants all his children to be happy. Even you. Especially you.”
Two thoughts assailed her simultaneously. Why would God want me especially to be happy? And why wouldn’t obedience to God and happiness be one and the same? She decided to address the first one only. The second one was too dangerous. “Why me especially? I’m no different than anybody else.” To admit she had any special gifts was pride and pride was a sin.
Nick’s smile enveloped her. “You? You’re completely different than everybody else. You’re always bouncing around here, humming or singing and always so friendly. You are the most positive person I know. God created you to be happy.” Nick’s voice slowed down with his last statement, punctuating the last three words.
It was a new concept, a twist in paradigm. On general principle, she wanted to reject it out of hand. He wasn’t an Elder, wasn’t even Amish. Still, she couldn’t quite ignore the truth of it although she couldn’t put her finger on what the truth exactly was.
“How do you know this?” She wanted it to come out as a challenge. Instead, it was only a whisper.
He smiled. “’God is love,’ right? Isn’t that what the Bible says?” In a strange way, it makes sense. It isn’t the Amish way, but it makes sense, she inwardly reasoned. “And if you love someone, you want them to be happy, right?”
Rebekah chewed on this idea thoughtfully. At first glance it seemed contrary to everything she had believed up to this point. God is love. She couldn’t deny the scripture but this English must be twisting it somehow, not understanding that love meant duty to God and family. It meant serving family, Community, and all who came into her life. It meant conformity to the Amish ways. It meant subservience to the men in her life. It wasn’t an emotion. Then Rebekah remembered her and Leah’s love for one another. They were always attentive to what the other had in her heart. Somehow Leah always knew what Rebekah carried in hers. Wasn’t that love?
The idea that you should care about wanting someone to be happy resounded in her. Perhaps God did want Rebekah to be happy. Wasn’t that why he made her so lighthearted to begin with? She felt a slight nudge telling her she was in danger of betraying long held beliefs of her people. But maybe this wasn’t treachery, only seeing things with clarity. Things she had always known but not put in proper perspective; like the way Leah cared for how she felt and how that was part of Leah’s love.
She ignored the nudge. Maybe some truths went beyond “Amish” or “English” truths. Maybe truth is unparalleled; maybe there are no shadow truth
s.
Whether it was the validity of what Nick just shared with her or whether it was the knowledge that another human being other than her sister could see her pain and care about it, care about her, Rebekah didn’t know, but she felt a little better.
“You’re right.” She found herself shining back at his handsome face. “The Gospel of John does say ‘God is Love.’”
Nick’s eyes got even deeper and softer. “There. You are smiling again. Beautiful to see.”
Rebekah flushed. Beautiful to see. The words echoed in her brain, causing her heart to hitch. Later, when she thought about them, the words would impact her soul. She became aware of how close he was standing to her and flushed even brighter. A foreign warmth spread through her thighs and chest. Her heartbeat quickened. She quickly changed the subject.
“What can I help you with today?”
“I just came in to get a soda. “ Nick set a can on the counter and pulled out change from his pocket. “Oh, and I guess I am driving you to St. Joe tomorrow morning to get supplies.” Rebekah nodded. It was time for a restocking trip. Then she beamed, thinking about the opportunity to talk to Nick some more. “There, you see, you smiled again! I am going to get you singing before too long.” That prompted yet a bigger smile and the warmth inside her spread wide and pooled in her groin. This made her flush deeply. Her breath came in sharply. She swallowed hard, gaining control of herself at last.
“Thank you, Mr. Collins.” Rebekah handed Nick his soda and his change. Her fingers brushed his for the briefest of seconds and she was hyper-aware of the warmth of his skin.
