Rebecca's Promise

by Jerry S. Eicher

  “So how did you know which one I was thinking about?” he asked.

  “That tone in your voice and because Luke was the only boy there this morning. The only visiting boy,” she added as explanation. “I never had anything to do with him.”

  “So what is it then?” he asked, tilting his head toward the bridge side. “You seem…nervous. Is it about people from your old community? Secrets, have we?”

  He surprised himself with the force and tone of his voice, as if he had a right to ask her these questions, even demand to know. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm the emotions stirring so suddenly in his chest. Why had there been fear?

  She made a valiant attempt to smile. “Not really. Just memories, I guess. Childhood things…growing up…you know. We all lived in the same community. You do things as children. Silly things. Luke lived in our old district. Still does. He could probably tell you dumb stuff I did growing up.”

  “Really,” he said with uncertainty, remembering the fear in her eyes. “Is that what you’re afraid of?”

  “Oh,” she gave a little gasp, “I’m not afraid. Why would you think that?”

  He shrugged his shoulders, not sure if he wanted to go down this road or not. This was their afternoon. How could either of them spoil it? Surely it was nothing. She must just be jumpy from seeing someone from her own community.

  “No reason, I guess. Probably just my imagination. Do you know anything more about these people…the Bylers?”

  “Yes.” She tilted her head and leaned slightly toward him. “They might be moving here. I think it’s still supposed to be a secret.”

  “Are you the only one to know?” he asked.

  “My mother knows. She’s sort of in on it since we come from there. I have an aunt still living there. An uncle too. On mom’s side of the family.”

  “I see,” he said. And then the thought crossed his mind that one never knew what went on among wild Amish young people during their rummshpringa days, but surely Rebecca wasn’t like that.

  Still he had to ask. “You do anything in your wild days? Something I should know about?” Certain the answer would be negative, he continued, “I never did, of course. We don’t take the time to sow our wild oats. Something about not liking the crop it produces.”

  “Of course not,” she retorted, genuinely indignant. “I never was wild. We were raised better than that.”

  “I didn’t think so,” he told her, lifting his one hand in contrition. “Just asking.”

  “Shouldn’t you have asked a little earlier? Before you asked something else? We just got engaged, if I remember correctly.”

  He met her gaze firmly. “Okay,” he said, “just forget it. It never occurred to me to ask before. You don’t seem like that kind of a girl. Not at all, really. I mean it. It was just that van going by and this Byler fellow that brought it to my mind.”

  “You don’t have to worry. He never was my boyfriend.”

  “Agreed,” he allowed. “Now where were we?”

  “A spring wedding,” she said. “Not this coming spring but the next spring. Just you and me.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  It was getting late, and Rebecca remembered her duty at home. “John, I have to chore tonight. We better go.” Then she added, “Do you want to stay to help?”

  He wrinkled his face as if in deep thought, although he already knew the answer. “No singing tonight in our district, right?”

  “No, not tonight. So why not stay for choring?”

  “I can’t resist,” he said. “Let’s go then. Your parents probably think we’ve gotten lost.”

  She led the way back across the bridge to their buggy, pulling him gently by the hand before letting go to walk a little ahead of him.

  “Hey, a wife should walk behind her husband,” he said in mock severity. “You’re starting things off on the wrong foot.”

  “You think so?” she asked playfully, looking back at him but not slowing down.

  “Yes, and I also think you’re beautiful,” he said, glad to say it out loud.

  “John! You shouldn’t say things like that.”

  “We’re engaged now,” he said. “Remember?”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” she answered as they arrived at the buggy.

  John stowed the tie rope, walked to his side, and climbed in as had Rebecca. As he let out the reins, the gelding pulled the buggy out onto the road and the covered bridge. Its hooves made echoing sounds in the enclosed area, and Rebecca let her shoulder lean against John’s.

  John let the sensation flow all the way through him as she looked at him—her presence, her smile, her eyes, all rolled into one. “I’m glad you said yes,” he told her playfully.

  “I am too,” she said, as they headed out of the covered bridge.

  Around the curves going west and then up the hill, John drove the buggy to her place. Keeping his face forward, he allowed the corner of his eye to fill with the side of her face. Breathing in deeply, he thanked God for having made the world so good.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Where’s Rebecca?” Mattie Keim asked her husband, Lester, as she rose from the couch to walk to the front window. “Wasn’t she coming home with John?”

  “I suppose so,” Lester faintly replied, his mouth full of Sunday afternoon popcorn. The bowl sat on his lap, the white kernels stark against the dark gray color of the container. His hand stopped halfway to his mouth, giving him time to reply, “They probably stopped somewhere.”

  “There’s no place to stop,” Mattie said.

  “Young people always find places to stop,” he said before his hand completed its trip to his mouth. “We did.”

  “Maybe they stopped at the bridge?” she mused. “You think it’s warm enough?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Depends, I guess, on what you want to do.”

  “The bridge,” she stood looking out the window in the direction of her thoughts. “I hope…”

  “John’s a pretty upstanding boy,” Lester said. “I’m sure they’re fine. Wherever they stopped.”

  “Well, there’s no place else to stop,” she told him.” You don’t just pull over on the side of the road. They certainly wouldn’t have gone all the way into town.”

  “They’ll be here,” he said, absorbed in his popcorn. “It’s about time for the chores, isn’t it? Rebecca helps tonight. She’s always good about being here at choring time.”

  “Yes, that she is,” Mattie sighed. “That’s why I’m worried. She doesn’t just turn up late for no reason.”

  “They’ll be here,” he repeated, seeking to reassure her. “Rebecca is almost twenty-one. Remember? Sit down and have some popcorn before I eat it all.”

  Flustered, she reached for a handful and picked at the kernels one at a time.

  “Get a bowl and relax,” he said. “You and I can have a date.”

  “Us?” She glanced sharply at him. “Are you going English?”

  “Me? English? Surely not.”

  She shrugged, still keeping an eye on him. “Then where is this romantic stuff coming from?”

  He stared at her and replied, “Now how do you, a good Amish woman like yourself, even know the word ‘romance’? That’s English, if you ask me—using words like that.”

  She bounced up for another look out the window. “There’s still no sign of them. Don’t you think you should go look for them?”

  “No,” he said, still concentrating on his popcorn. “Tell me where you learned of romance.”

  “Oh,” she replied and waved her hand weakly in a half circle, “You know…books. They are all over the place nowadays. Every young woman has a loved one…and all the troubles that follow the English.”

  “You shouldn’t be reading those books,” he said mildly. “They don’t settle the constitution well. We don’t need romance…we’re in love. After all these years.”

  She continued to look out the window, her face concerned.

  “We are, aren�
�t we?” he asked in her direction.

  “Are what?” she replied absentmindedly.

  “In love.”

  “Of course,” she replied without hesitation. She turned toward him suddenly and asked, “Why are you asking all these strange questions? We have been married for nearly thirty years.”

  “And in love too,” he said, a twinkle in his voice.

  “You’re certainly acting strange.” She turned away from the window, the missing couple forgotten for the moment. “Is something wrong with you?” She crossed the room and gently laid her hand on her husband’s forehead.

  He allowed it, saying nothing.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Feels fine. You’re not picking up that flu are you?”

  “Of course not,” he said. “I feel as fit as a fiddle.”

  “Then what’s wrong with you?”

  “Maybe it’s all this love in the air,” he said, reaching for the last of the popcorn.

  Mattie was silent for a moment, then said, “Oh, you mean Rebecca and John? Surely not.” She resumed her vigil at the window. “Where are they anyway?”

  “Yes,” he said quietly, “them.”

  Sure that she had not heard him, he was about ready to rise from the couch to look out the window himself when she turned back toward him. “You have already married off two children. None of them affected you this way. What’s wrong with you?”

  He settled back down and replied, “Nothing’s wrong, really. It’s just different, these two are.”

  “They seem the same to me. Maybe it’s because it’s Rebecca. You were always closest to her. But you can’t hold on, you know.”

  “I’m not holding on,” he said. “Just remembering.”

  “If they’re not here in five minutes, you’re going after them,” she told him firmly, turning away from the window.

  Lester leaned back and closed his eyes. Yes, he did remember. Rebecca, his third child, still so young and yet mature for her age. The seriousness in her eyes after church still bothered him. Had something happened that he was not aware of? Why would she seem troubled today? She’d be twenty-one in just days. A grown woman. Lester could almost see it, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

  “Oh, here they come!” Mattie announced. “Where could they have been so long? They so worry me sometimes.”

  “They’ll be fine,” Lester reassured her as he pulled himself up from his chair. “They’ll be just fine,” he repeated since Mattie wasn’t listening anyway. He needed to hear himself say it and found comfort in the words.

  CHAPTER THREE

  John checked for oncoming traffic before letting the gelding slow to cross the little creek and head up the Keim driveway.

  “You think your parents are worried?” John asked.

  “Mom might be,” Rebecca said, “but she’ll get over it. Dad’s fine as long as I’m home to help chore.”

  “Are you going to tell them?” John asked, without looking at Rebecca.

  “You mean right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll have to see,” she said. “I doubt it. Not in front of everyone.”

  “It’s not everyone,” he protested. “Just your mom and dad.”

  “Maybe not since it’s Sunday afternoon. The younger ones could be around.”

  “You afraid of what they’ll say?” he asked.

  “No, of course not,” she said, mildly offended. “My parents like you. Why should I be afraid?”

  “I guess you’re right. Your parents have always been nice to me.”

  “Okay, then stop worrying about it,” she said. “Let’s not say anything for a while though.”

  John pulled the buggy to a stop in front of the house. The Keim place lay on a knoll just off the riverbank—a white two-story house with a prominent front porch and two smaller, white pole barns in the background. Lester Keim farmed a hundred and twenty acres, a large part of which was river bottom. The Keim farm was neat, the buildings in good shape, the barns clean. To John it spoke of a well-ordered life. That was what he wanted in a wife. And he found it in Rebecca Keim, of that he was sure.

  “You worried?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “I’m okay,” he said quickly. “Just a little nervous.”

  “It will be fine.” Rebecca’s eyes were lit up now, her smile certain.

  They stepped into the living room, and John took off his hat and immediately began fiddling with it. Both Mattie and Lester were seated on the couch, the empty popcorn bowl between them.

  “Ah,” he started to say, not sure where to go from there.

  Lester, seeing his confusion, came to his rescue. “Mother’s been just a little worried. She didn’t know where you were. I told her you probably stopped at the bridge.”

  “Ah,” John stated again, “that’s where we were. I’m so sorry,” he said in Mattie’s direction.

  “It’s nothing to be sorry about,” Lester told him, reaching for the empty popcorn bowl and rattling it. “Why don’t you get more, Mother? John might want some. I could use more myself.”

  Rebecca spoke up. “John’s staying for chores. To help me. For supper too since there’s no singing in our district tonight. You shouldn’t have worried, Mother. We were perfectly safe and sound.”

  “Well, you know how I am,” Mattie said, a little sheepishly. “You know how it goes with children. Nowadays you never know what can happen. I guess I worry too much.”

  “Yes, Mother, you do,” Rebecca told her. “I’ll make some more popcorn while you visit.”

  “That’s fine.” Mattie’s face broke into a smile. “John, it’s good to see you looking so well. Has anyone ever told you that you have a kind face? Did it come from your father or mother’s side?”

  John felt himself relax. He even allowed a slight grin to play on his face. “I didn’t know I was that good looking,” he told her, finding a chair across the room to sit on.

  “Oh, it’s not just that, although you are good looking, I must say. But it’s deeper than that. You must have inherited it, I think. You’re not old enough to have it on your own. There’s wholesomeness in your face. It must come from your family line somewhere.”

  John felt a little touch of red gather at his collar. “I’m not sure,” he managed. “We try to live right. As all of us do, I’m sure.”

  Lester chuckled, remembering his own awkwardness as a young man in the presence of Mattie’s parents. “She’s trying to say she likes you,” he explained. Truth was he liked this boy too, and there was no need to have him feeling ill at ease in his living room. “She just takes the long way around saying it sometimes,” he continued, while smiling in Mattie’s direction.

  “The boy’s just fine,” she said facing Lester. “He needs to get used to us one way or the other. That’s if he wants to be around Rebecca, don’t you think? I was just trying to make a point.”

  John cleared his throat, wondering if he should say what happened this afternoon. But no, they had decided not to. Besides, it would be Rebecca’s place to tell them, and also his Amish instincts were kicking in. You simply didn’t really go around announcing such things.

  “I’m glad you think I come from a good family,” he said instead. “You have a nice family yourselves. Your place looks good too.”

  “We like to think so,” Lester said, receiving the compliment with ease. “Not as big as some folks have, but comfortable. We are blessed of the Lord.”

  John nodded. “All of us are here on Wheat Ridge. We are really blessed.”

  “So,” Lester declared, changing the subject, “you’re staying for the chores. I have some old clothing you can wear.”

  “Don’t be making the boy work,” Mattie protested. “He doesn’t have to. Rebecca can handle it by herself.”

  “I thought he might be wanting to,” Lester said, a mischievous note in his voice. “After all, he is here to be with Rebecca. Choring is where Rebecca will be.”

  “Well, he still doesn’t have
to.” Mattie made sure John was looking at her when she said it.

  “Oh, I do want to,” he assured her. “Just show me where I can change. I’ll be ready to go.”

  “There’s time for that later,” Lester interrupted him. “The popcorn is coming. First the popcorn, then the chores.”

  True to the prediction, the popcorn was ready. Appearing at the kitchen door, Rebecca carried in the big bowl heaped high with white kernels. Smaller bowls were passed around, and each took a turn filling their bowls to the brim. Rebecca then pulled another chair beside John, sat down, and gave him a quick glance.

  I’m okay he told her with his eyes and saw her body visibly relax into the chair.

  Mattie then brought up the subject of the visitors in church that morning—the Bylers—and from the flow of the conversation, John gathered that the Byler family was well-known to the Keims because they lived close by each other in Milroy, Indiana. In no way did he detect in Rebecca any of the tension or fear from earlier at the bridge. He must have imagined it, he decided, because Rebecca seemed perfectly at ease now.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The hired van, its driver a retired trucker who drove for the Amish people in Rush County, Indiana, was well on the west side of Cincinnati on Interstate 74. Much of the buzz of conversation had died down, as the hours whiled away. Luke Byler, along with two younger children, sat in the backseat of the twelve-passenger van. His mother and father sat in front of them.

  In front of them were unrelated members of the Milroy Amish church community who were returning from their weekend at Wheat Ridge. Reuben Byler, a stout man, a farmer, and a deacon at his home district, had made this trip with clear intentions of seeking to move to Wheat Ridge.

  His wife, Rachel, was a former Miller, related by some cousin connection to the Millers who owned the businesses along Wheat Ridge. She was in full agreement with both the trip and the planned move. This came partly out of the Miller family connection and partly out of the hope that her husband might do better financially with a move.