The Reconciliation

by Susan Lantz Simpson

  Rebecca jerked upright. A dream. She’d dozed off with her head against the window for only a few minutes, but that had been long enough for the nightmare to take control. She patted her chest, hoping to coax her heart into returning to a more normal rhythm. Her life had been so ruled by fear lately she couldn’t even escape it in a quick catnap. Since none of the passengers who had trickled onto the bus were staring in her direction, she must not have cried out, even though the dream had been frighteningly real. When her heart had settled down a bit, she raised her hand to rub her moist eyes. If only she could rub away her memories as easily as she rubbed away the sleep and tears.

  She lowered the big canvas bag she’d been balancing on her lap to the floor and wedged it between her feet. Where were the rest of the passengers and the bus driver? She wanted to leave New York behind forever. Sure, she’d been thrilled to visit the big city. She’d been amazed by the tall buildings, the Statue of Liberty, Broadway, the fancy stores, and all the other attractions. After all, she’d left her rural home in pursuit of adventure and happiness. She’d found the first all right, but definitely not the last.

  Things had gone along okay at first. She’d found a job in a café—the only one she could get with an eighth-grade education. It wasn’t a high-paying job, but the owner rented her a small room for a pretty reasonable price. She had enough money to buy a few secondhand clothes from the thrift store and a little food to keep in the cupboard for snacks. The coffee shop provided a uniform for her and free meals while on the clock, so that saved her some money. She certainly didn’t live in luxury, but she wasn’t used to luxury anyway. If Vinny had never started hanging around the shop, life might have continued to be okay. But “okay” wasn’t really “happy,” was it?

  Rebecca sighed and swiped again at a stray tear. If she hadn’t been so naive, she wouldn’t have fallen prey to Vinny’s charms. Oh, he was a smooth talker, that one, and handsome, too. He charmed her right off her feet. She quickly fell madly in love with him and believed he loved her, too. Pshaw! Who knew what love was?

  She clenched her teeth and her fists. It had been her own stupidity! It was her fault she had gotten mixed up with Vinny and his so-called freinden. When he convinced her to marry him after they’d barely known each other a few weeks, Rebecca was ecstatic. She thought he was sincere and caring. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Rebecca had thought Vinny would be so pleased when she told him she suspected a boppli was on the way. Weren’t all men happy about such things? Not Vinny. He insisted she get rid of “the problem.” When she refused, he said he had no use for her. He said they weren’t really even married. It had all been a sham, and the marriage license was a fake. He’d laughed at her—a harsh, scornful sound that still echoed in her brain. She’d run out of the tiny apartment they shared and wandered the crowded city sidewalks for hours. She’d hoped Vinny would run after her and tell her he loved her and wanted their boppli.

  Rebecca put a fist to her mouth and bit a knuckle. She couldn’t break into sobs again. The bus was beginning to fill with passengers who would gawk at a bawling woman. Hadn’t she shed enough tears? Still, a stray tear trickled down her cheek. She shook her head slightly, but that last scene wouldn’t dislodge from her memory. When she had returned to the apartment to gather her few belongings after her wandering, she’d found Vinny’s glassy-eyed pals standing over him. He was sprawled on the floor, unmoving. Dead. Overdose, they said.

  She stuffed what she could into the big canvas bag and fled. She could still hear the voices of those creepy guys calling out to her. “Come back, baby. You’re ours now. We’ll take care of you.” Their words were followed by raucous laughter that haunted her dreams. She ran as fast as she could and prayed they were too drugged to be able to chase after her. She glanced over her shoulder every few minutes anyway as she ran to the apartment of one of the other waitresses, where she holed up for a few days until she could make a plan.

  Now here she was alone, scared, unmarried, and pregnant. She’d not likely be welcomed home with open arms, and she couldn’t really blame Mamm and Daed if they didn’t want her back.

  A gnawing in her gut brought to Rebecca’s attention how little she had eaten lately. The nausea of the past few weeks had rendered practically every food unpalatable. Crackers had become her favorite companion. She’d been so sick she thought she was dying. When she gathered some courage, she visited a free clinic. The kind doctor offered to give her some medication for the nausea and told Rebecca she was about three months along. Rebecca declined the pills but did take the doctor’s advice about natural remedies for nausea.

  Her stomach growled again. She should have eaten something earlier. When her stomach got this empty, the nausea was even worse. She had thought someone was following her when she left the other girl’s apartment so she didn’t stop in the café for breakfast. Instead, she ran toward the bus station.

  Rebecca couldn’t suppress the sigh that escaped as a shuddering gasp. Vinny had lied about so many things. He swore he didn’t use drugs. He gave no indication that their marriage vows were phony. He said he loved her. Sure! He had never cared for her at all. He had just used her. He figured a naive country girl would be too stupid to know the difference.

  She may be naive about the ways of the Englisch world, but she was not stupid. She was . . . she was . . . she was pitiful, that’s what she was. Shame burned her soul and warmed her cheeks. She never, ever would have moved in with Vinny if she hadn’t truly believed they were married. She may have been a flirt back home, but she’d never . . .

  Ach! It was too shameful to think about. Somehow she had to get her life together. Somehow she had to provide for a little one who would depend solely on her. That’s what she should ponder on her long bus ride.

  Her stomach rumbled louder. Cookies! The woman at the little store she’d dashed into to inquire about the bus station had given her a small bag of cookies. Rebecca leaned down to fish around in her canvas bag. That little paper sack must have wormed its way to the bottom. Jah, there it was in a bottom corner. She lifted the paper bag out and opened the top. Heavenly smells wafted out. Chocolate. Ginger. Cinnamon. They mingled, but in a pleasant way. She’d try a gingersnap. The clinic doctor had said ginger was supposed to help soothe tummy troubles. She broke off a chunk of the gingersnap inside the bag to avoid leaving a trail of crumbs on the bus floor and popped it into her mouth. It wasn’t quite as gut as her mamm’s gingersnaps, but it was tasty. And her stomach accepted it.

  At last a wiry man with a thin, graying mustache climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled the handle to close the door. The bus was only partially filled with passengers, and to Rebecca’s relief, the seat beside her remained empty. She nibbled a few more bites of the cookie before settling back in the seat.

  Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut, not one bit interested in the scenery outside her window. She wanted to forget the city and everything that happened here. Her body craved sleep. As long as no one boarded the bus at another stop and plunked down beside her, she would sleep until she got close to home.

  Home? Did she have one of those? Maybe she should stay on the bus until the end of the line, wherever that happened to be. She wanted to see her parents and her community. She’d missed them more than she had dreamed she would. But would they want to see her? Would they take her back? If they didn’t, she supposed she could hop on the next bus out of Maryland and head farther south or west or whichever direction the bus headed. Rebecca leaned her head against the window, hoping its coolness would ease her pounding headache and the vibration would lull her to sleep.

  Chapter Two

  Rebecca’s head thumped against the window when the bus braked hard, rousing her from her drowsy, woozy state. More passengers clambered aboard. She had a feeling she would no longer have the seat to herself. She scooted over as far as she could get and kept her bag lodged between her feet. She hoped she didn’t end up with a chatty seatmate. Maybe if she pulled out a bo
ok to read, the person would take the hint and leave her in peace—whatever that was. Rebecca bent forward to paw through her bag for the paperback novel one of the other waitresses had given her.

  “Hello, dearie. Mind if I share your seat?”

  Rebecca jerked upward, dizziness causing the face before her to swirl. She blinked hard to bring the wrinkly face of the tiny, elderly woman into focus. “Nee, uh, no, of course not.” Rebecca took in the thick, gray hair gathered into a neat bun, the clear, twinkling blue eyes, and the sweetest smile ever. This must be peace. Rebecca attempted a wobbly smile of her own.

  “Are you all right, dearie?”

  “Jah, uh, yes.” Even after living and working among the Englisch, Pennsylvania Dutch words were the first ones out of her mouth.

  “You look a bit pale. Beautiful, but pale.” The woman took up less than half of the bus seat. She, too, stowed a canvas bag between her feet, which barely reached the floor. “I’m Vivian Holbrook, but everyone calls me Viv.” She reached out a tiny hand toward Rebecca.

  Rebecca shook the small, warm hand, careful not to squeeze too hard. “I’m Rebecca.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Rebecca. I’ve been visiting my son and his family in Princeton and will be glad to reach my home in Delaware. My son always tries to get me to fly or take the train, and I always tell him the bus is fine with me. It isn’t that long of a ride. Where are you headed?”

  “Um, Maryland.”

  “Lovely state. I’ve visited there many times.”

  Rebecca nodded. It really was a nice place. She should never have left it six months ago. Six months? It seemed a lifetime. In six short months, she’d managed to completely ruin her life.

  Viv reached for a big ball of yarn with a half-finished project attached and knitting needles protruding like chopsticks from the bowl of fried rice Rebecca’d had at a Chinese restaurant. Then she wiggled twice and smiled. “There. I think I’m settled now. Have you ever visited Delaware, dear?”

  “N-no.”

  “It’s really quite nice, too. I live in Bethany Beach, so I can look at the ocean or walk along the beach whenever I want. I love the salty smell of the ocean.”

  “That must be nice.” Vinny had taken her to the ocean once. She’d been mesmerized by the powerful waves crashing to shore and then slithering back out to sea. Such a mighty and awesome force. She could have watched the waves for hours with the sea spray misting her face and the wind whipping her long braid around her. Vinny had even collected shells with her until his cronies had shown up with a cooler full of beer and who knew what else. Then her magical trip had turned into a nightmare. Being the only sober person in a crowd of drunks was no fun. Having to ride in a car driven by an intoxicated person had been absolutely terrifying.

  Rebecca gave her head a little shake. Some memories were best kept buried. From the corner of her eye she could see Viv’s knitting needles flying. The clackety-clack of the needles somehow soothed her. “What are you making?”

  “My oldest granddaughter is expecting her first baby. Imagine! I’m going to be a great-grandmother in a few months! It’s a girl. They already found out.” Viv paused to flick away a tear. “In my day, we had no idea if our babies were boys or girls. We considered whatever the good Lord gave us a blessing. Oh, I know. Couples are so busy nowadays, with mothers-to-be working and all. They want to have everything all set before the baby arrives. But we thought being surprised was part of the excitement. Don’t you think so?”

  “Surprises are nice.” Rebecca’s boppli would be a surprise for sure and for certain. Her people felt as Viv did. All bopplin were a blessing. She supposed she should start preparing for her little one’s arrival. She wished she had paid more attention when her mamm so patiently tried to teach her to knit. She always dropped stitches, became frustrated, and shoved the barely begun project into a bag. Watching Viv knit, though, was absolutely fascinating.

  “Do you knit, dear?”

  “I never could seem to learn. I kept making a tangled mess and giving up.”

  “It’s not so hard. I’ve taught all my daughters and granddaughters to knit. I have extra yarn and needles if you’d like to try.”

  “I don’t want to interrupt your work.”

  “It’s no problem at all. You know, we knitters are happiest when we can recruit a new knitter. Trust me, knitting is a balm for an anxious mind. I’ve knitted many a troubled thought or bad mood away.”

  Then I definitely need to learn. Rebecca almost voiced her thought. “It looks like fun.”

  Could she learn? Maybe she just wasn’t interested before.

  “Here, I’ll show you.” Viv slid forward on the wide bus seat to once again rummage through her bag. She handed Rebecca a ball of soft yellow yarn and a pair of wooden knitting needles.

  Rebecca fingered the yarn. Yellow. It could be for a girl or a boy. She picked up the needles and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She was determined not to get frustrated and give up this time.

  Viv scooted back into position with another ball of yarn and pair of needles. “Some people use metal needles,” Viv explained. “Some use plastic. I like these wooden ones. It doesn’t matter, though, which ones you use. You start by casting on the yarn. I’ll show you the easiest way to do that.”

  “You must have an endless supply of yarn and needles in that bag.”

  Viv threw back her head and laughed. “It looks that way, doesn’t it? I always bring extra along. My youngest granddaughter wanted me to show her some patterns, so I brought an assortment of yarn and needles with me.”

  Rebecca struggled to make the yarn obey. She chewed her lip as she concentrated. “I feel so clumsy.”

  “You’ll get the hang of it. Relax. If you keep biting your lip, though, you’re going to bleed all over the place.”

  Instantly Rebecca released her lip from its captivity. She didn’t want to ruin Viv’s lovely yarn. The older woman made her cast on stitches over and over until Rebecca felt she could get the yarn onto the needles in her sleep.

  “Now we’ll learn the basic knit and purl stitches. And don’t worry if the stitches aren’t perfectly even. I want you to bond with those knitting needles.”

  “Bond?”

  Viv smiled. “Yes. They are your friends. Get used to the weight of them, the fit between your fingers. Try not to grip too tight—though everyone tends to do that in the beginning—or your hand will cramp. Once you get the hang of how to make the stitches, you’ll find the grip that works best for you.”

  With Viv’s close supervision, Rebecca knitted row after row of stitches. “They look a little wobbly.”

  “Maybe the first few rows, but look how neat the stitches are in the last part you knitted.”

  Rebecca allowed a little smile. “They did improve, didn’t they?” Maybe she could learn to knit after all.

  “Now we’ll do some purl rows.”

  Purling felt more awkward. Rebecca’s fingers wanted to knit instead. The familiar frustration threatened to surface, but Rebecca tamped it down.

  “Take your time. It’s different but not really harder.”

  The bus rumbled along the highway and miles passed as Rebecca practiced her stitches over and over. Every now and then she paused to glance out the window and to wiggle her fingers. Viv, apparently a seasoned traveler, told Rebecca as much as she could about the towns they passed through. Rebecca prepared to wrap her yarn around the needle to begin another row but first flattened her swatch to examine it. She gave a little cry. “I’ve dropped a stitch or something.”

  “Good.”

  “Gut?”

  “Now you’ll see how easy it is to fix that. There’s no need to panic.” Viv patted Rebecca’s arm before reaching for her bag. She withdrew a crochet hook from a side pocket of the bag. “This is all you have to do. Here, take the hook.”

  Viv guided Rebecca as she hesitantly inserted the hook and pulled the lost stitch through the rows of knitting and onto the needle. If she’
d been at home, this would have been the point when Rebecca would have flung the whole project aside and given up in utter frustration.

  “There. You did it. See, it wasn’t the end of the world. All knitters drop stitches sometimes. Here, now I want you to fix these.” Viv held up her lovely blanket, which showed gaps in the stitching here and there.

  Rebecca gasped and dropped her swatch in her lap. “Your blanket! It’s ruined. You deliberately ruined your beautiful blanket to teach me?”

  Viv chuckled. “Oh my. If only you could see the horrified expression on your face. The blanket isn’t ruined at all. You just saw how a mistake could be corrected. All these mistakes can be fixed, too.” Viv handed Rebecca her project.

  “Do you trust me to fix this?” Rebecca stroked the soft blanket.

  “Of course I do. It’s like life, you know. We all make mistakes—sometimes big ones.” Viv pointed to a big gap in her stitching. “And sometimes teensy ones.” She pointed out a tiny flaw. “All mistakes can be forgiven. We repent and move forward, trying hard not to make the same mistake again. But we’re human. Inevitably we make another mistake. We can’t be perfect no matter how much we may want to be. The Bible says all have sinned, every one of us, even if we don’t want to and try hard not to.”

  Rebecca carefully lifted Viv’s blanket and wiggled the crochet hook through the rows of stitching to pull up the dropped stitches. “So all mistakes can be fixed?” She needed a giant crochet hook to fix all the mistakes in her life! If only it could be so easy.

  “Yes, dear. All mistakes can be fixed, just like all sins can be forgiven.”

  Rebecca bit her lip again, letting Viv’s words sink in. Even if the Lord Gott forgave her myriad mistakes, would her parents be as forgiving?

  “There. Good as new.” Viv held up the baby blanket. “You can’t detect any flaws now, can you?”

  Rebecca shook her head. For the first time in quite a while, she missed her white kapp strings swinging to and fro whenever she tossed her head. “It’s as lovely as ever.”