It was Mary, though, who stayed beside her and whispered, “How are you this morning? You get settled in?”
“Ya. But Leona’s not here today. The baby’s too close to coming.”
Mary nodded, pulling the sleeve of her dress up to glance at her wristwatch. Rebecca saw its gold face shine before Mary quickly drew the sleeve back over it, obviously aware of Amish sentiments about anything resembling jewelry.
“When does the church service start?”
“Nine.”
“That’s what I thought. And lasts three hours.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Hard benches?”
Rebecca raised her eyebrows.
“Just as I remembered, but it’s been awhile.”
“You can’t speak German, can you?”
“No.”
“Then you won’t understand much either.”
“I thought that too.”
Women were looking their way, so Rebecca knew that this conversation was going on too long. Even with her visitor status, there were limits, and one limit involved long conversations prior to the church service.
“Sit with me,” Rebecca whispered, seeing the men already filing past the outside window heading for the living room door.
Mary readily agreed by following her when the girls got in line behind the women to file in. Rebecca felt the eyes of the boys on her, as she and Mary took a seat on the second bench back. A glance at Mary’s face almost made her break into a smile, but she caught it in time. It was obvious that Mary enjoyed the male attention.
Three hours later, Mary stuck tightly to Rebecca on the way out. When Rebecca volunteered to help serve tables, Mary followed suit. So it wasn’t until the third change of tables that they finally got a chance to sit down and eat. The now nearly empty tables stretched into the living room and the main bedroom—a few young boys sat on the other side of the room at the men’s table, several girls further down from them.
A few women were taking care of the last ones to eat, but no one was paying much attention to this visiting Mennonite and Amish girl, who seemed to know each other well. Surrounded by a sense of privacy, they got down to the business of preparing their peanut butter sandwiches.
“So what was it with the boys this morning?” Mary asked Rebecca, grinning. “Makes me glad I’m single. Do you think that blond boy, about twenty-five or so, might ask me out? He had nice blue eyes.”
“I doubt it,” Rebecca chuckled. “You’re Mennonite.”
“Does that make me sinful?”
“No. Just undatable.”
“Well!” Mary, in mock indignation, lifted her nose in the air.
Rebecca would have giggled if she were at home, but she wasn’t. She was a visiting Amish girl, sitting at the table after church and eating, so she simply shook in silent laughter.
“Well!” Mary repeated, having to smile herself.
“I thought your eye was on the native in Haiti.”
“It is. I was just looking.”
“Is Marcus better than this Amish boy?”
“At least he would dare to date me.”
“I guess you’d need to date to get married.”
Mary made a face. “Not always in Haiti. They have spiritual marriages with their spirits.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It’s part of their custom—voodoo.”
“But the church people don’t, surely?”
“No, not the church people.”
“Have you ever seen these spiritual marriages?”
“No. I wouldn’t go to one of the meetings. It’s said that they have a service of some sort. Then the person who is to be married to the spirit has convulsions. I guess they don’t know any better. They really do need the gospel message.”
“Is that why you go down there?”
Mary nodded. “There’s just so much need. You can work all day and still feel like you just started.”
“This native…Marcus. Aren’t you afraid he might fall back into his old ways?”
“No, he’s been a Christian for quite a long time. He and his wife were married in a civil ceremony even before they became Christians. That’s unusual down there. He’s a pretty upstanding fellow.”
“Sounds pretty unusual,” Rebecca said, pulling back from the table as one of the older women with a coffeepot offered them refills. They both accepted.
“So, do you know yet when you’re going back to Ohio?” Mary asked.
“No,” Rebecca said, “just after the baby comes.”
Rebecca noticed Stephen heading out to the barn for his horse. “I have to go soon,” she said, nodding in the direction of the retreating Stephen. “I sure hope Leona was okay today.”
“I’m sure she was. Rebecca, it’s been nice talking to you again. If I’m around I’ll give you a ride back home.”
“What are the chances of that?”
“Not much.” Mary laughed as Rebecca rose to her feet.
“When are you going back?” she asked, seeing Stephen bring his horse out from the barn.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Have a safe trip.”
“Goodbye, then,” Mary said as she turned to leave.
Rebecca gathered up the two girls and helped them find their bonnets and shawls. They came out just as Stephen pulled up. Elmo was in the front this time, with two of his brothers standing behind the seat.
Leona was seated in the recliner when they walked in the door.
“Are you okay?” Rebecca asked.
“Yes, nothing has happened yet.”
“You want anything special? Can I make you lunch?”
“No. I’ll just nibble on whatever you have for supper.”
“That would be the casserole from last night unless you want me to make something fresh.”
“No,” Leona said, “tomorrow will be a big enough day. I’m afraid you’ll have to do the wash.”
“I was expecting to,” Rebecca said.
“I haven’t gotten things caught up very well, I’m afraid,” Leona said apologetically.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Rebecca replied, assuring her. “We’ll just keep you as comfortable as we can and have a nice quiet evening.”
“I’ll be glad when this is over,” Leona groaned, her hands on her stomach, glancing around to see if any of her children were in ear-shot before she said it. None were, and so she groaned again for good measure.
“I’ll be right back,” Rebecca said, heading toward her bedroom to change into work clothing. When she came back, she brought Leona another pillow from the hall closet and then went into the kitchen to make popcorn and warm the casserole in the oven.
“Oh, Rebecca?” Leona’s voice came to her. “Did you want to go to the singing?”
“No. I’m fine,” Rebecca assured her. “No problem at all.”
It would be as comfortable an evening as she could make it for the family, even though she was missing Wheat Ridge and her own room at home. But to her surprise and horror, she realized she was not missing John. That discovery left her cold.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The singing was almost over in the home where church had been that morning. It wouldn’t be long before someone led out in the closing song. The clock showed it was five till nine. That morning he had been watching Rebecca Keim, but she hadn’t given him so much as a look.
It made him mad. When he thought about it, Rebecca was just the kind of girl he really wanted—slim, dark-haired, carrying herself with class, her smile like a ray of sunshine. But he had seen her on the trip to Harshville, down by that bridge with a young man. Was she going to marry him? Or was she still free?
And what was Rebecca doing here anyway? And with that Mennonite girl? Rebecca came from this community, so she was probably visiting. The other girl could be the driver of the van that was parked outside, although that didn’t make a lot of sense. Most hired drivers were elderly men or women, not young like that girl all done up in Engli
sh clothing.
Mennonites had no sense at all with things like that. She had no right to be in their church service, tormenting him and, no doubt, others too. But what could one do? At least she wasn’t here every Sunday. That would be torture.
Anyway, he deserved someone like Rebecca or the Mennonite. Certainly he deserved more than Susie. She had been looking at him all morning, and he was tired of it. Couldn’t she see that it was all a little too much?
Maybe it wouldn’t have been as bad if Rebecca and that Mennonite girl hadn’t been there this morning to pour salt into his wound. And on the very evening he was to take Susie home…plain Susie, who had suited him just fine before, he reminded himself.
He could have been happy with Susie, would have, in fact, if he hadn’t thought about what more money might do.
Looking into Susie’s eyes would never be the same now, having just been reminded of what he was missing. And would continue to miss without the money that would rightfully be his and his family’s.
He glanced over at Susie. Her eyes too were on the clock. She saw him, and her cheeks flushed momentarily. He should have been delighted, and would have he told himself, if Rebecca had stayed home where she belonged instead of wasting her dad’s money with a stupid visit.
It seemed he saw money everywhere these days. Saw its influence on people—the decisions they made and the actions they carried out. Saw it in people’s eyes when they looked at him. Saw it in town on Saturday at the gas station where he stopped to fill the gasoline can for Emma. Everywhere someone was spending money, hiding money, taking money—everyone except him.
This would all change once his mother had her way. Of course, he would do his part, when and where he could. Then he would have what was his.
He took a deep breath. The hands on the clock just crossed nine o’clock, and someone started the closing song. He would soon have Susie in his buggy, his first date. Someone so plain and common. He swallowed hard.
Well, he supposed, that was the hand dealt to him, and one he would have to take. Just like the hands of the men he shook in front of the barn every Sunday morning. Some of those hands were hard and calloused, while others, the hands of those who worked in shops, were not quite as rough.
Thinking of hands, he found himself calculating how much each man behind the hand was worth. Never having thought about it much before, it took a little doing. He had to remember what each home looked like, how many horses they owned, and what the rumors implied about how much debt remained. Sitting there, he came to the conclusion that the farmers were coming in last. A raw chill ran up his spine.
That he was a farmer shamed him till he almost said out loud, right there surrounded by the young people, I will prove I’m not poor. This is one farmer who will not have to endure this shame.
The last notes of the song died away. Soon it would be time to go. Time to stand up, knowing that a girl would soon be doing likewise. She would be following him outside, getting into his buggy, allowing him to drive her home. In spite of his anger, the emotions swelled up in him.
Momentarily he forgot about the sight of Rebecca and her English girlfriend from earlier in the day and was lost in the pleasure of this thought. When he rose to his feet though, just after Johnny Mast did, it all came back in a rush. Following Johnny, he walked out.
Johnny’s girl was Susan Hershberger from over in the other district. Her father, Ben, owned the Hershberger Harness Shop north of Milroy. Ben was one of the men, Luke had calculated, who almost had his place paid off. Susan was their third girl, tall for her age, her thin face framed in the blond hair that was tucked under her white head covering.
Luke caught a glimpse of Susan, as she sat in the front row, when he walked by. She had the same look on her face for Johnny that Susie had for him. Anger rose up in him. Why did a girl like that not care for me? They would, if they only knew, he thought.
If they only knew that three farms were in his family—farms that were paid off and debt free. Surely with that knowledge on his side, he would be able to get whomever he wanted. Walking toward the door, feeling more and more frustrated, his hands clenched into tight fists.
Tomorrow he would go to Emma and demand that she name the proper heirs and have this over with. It had to be that way. He could not hold off any longer. Time was slipping away from him, and beautiful girls were being snatched up right under his nose.
As soon as he arrived for his daily routine, he would march right in and confront Emma. She would see it too, understanding that what he was saying was right.
And then he realized he would never do it because his mother would not permit such a thing.
Johnny, walking in front of Luke, held the door momentarily so it wouldn’t slam in his face. Smiling, Johnny nodded when Luke’s hand reached out for the door. Luke attempted to make a smile cross his face but couldn’t—his anger forbid it.
“No girl tonight?” Johnny said, glancing at Luke’s face and taking a guess at his obvious displeasure.
Luke wanted to yell, wanted to tell him that he too could get the good-looking girls. That Susie was just a temporary thing. That he was as good as Johnny was. That money was in their family too. But none of that would do, so he simply said, “I’m taking Susie home.”
“Really?” Johnny lifted his eyebrows, the light from the living room still reaching his face. “I thought you’d never get around to taking a girl home.”
Luke felt the anger boil again, but he took a deep breath.
“She’s not too bad,” Johnny said, the shadows almost covering his broad smile.
Luke still said nothing as he stepped out the door and turned to close it.
“She’s about right for you.” Johnny’s voice came from the darkness in front of him. “Glad to see you two together.”
Luke wanted to tell Johnny he was worthy of much better than Susie. Worthy of a beautiful girl like Johnny himself had, but the words stuck in his throat.
“Have a good evening,” Johnny said cheerfully, his shape barely discernable in the darkness.
They walked in silence to the barn, Luke following at a distance, Johnny marching ahead. Once in the barn, they went in different directions to find their horses. Luke took his time in the stall, where he had tied his horse, to let Johnny get out of the way.
When he heard the shuffle of horse hooves in the straw and Johnny’s cheerful “Goodnight” at the barn door to another boy coming in, he figured the coast must be clear.
Luke led his horse out and found his buggy, only to discover Johnny preparing his own buggy just two spaces away. Ignoring him, Luke walked by and waited until Johnny took off.
There was no hiding the shiny oiled look on the black buggy even in the dark. Johnny had a buggy to match his girl and a sleek horse, which held its head high. They made a grand sight when the light from the kitchen caught them at the end of the sidewalk, light shining on the black canvas.
Luke wearily lifted the shafts on his buggy and led his horse into place. He would pull over to the house and pick up Susie for the ride home. His first date.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Forcing thoughts of Rebecca, of Johnny’s girl, and that Mennonite girl from his mind, Luke focused on the task at hand. He might as well enjoy this evening. There might not be much money in his family, but there was more than what Susie had. He simply had no need to feel ashamed around her as long as she was all he had…for now.
Finding his courage and good humor rising, he pulled his buggy up short by the sidewalk. Where was Susie? Why hadn’t she come out? Didn’t she recognize his buggy? What an embarrassment. If his girl, on her first date, had to be told how to find his buggy, then this grievous thing would reduce him to the lowest of the low. It would be something to hang his head over; something spoken about in low voices at the singings.
Almost on the verge of panic, he willed himself to keep looking up the sidewalk. Another buggy was already in position behind him, its horse pawing the air in anticipatio
n, the occasional piece of gravel flying up against the dashboard of the buggy. It would not be long before everyone saw what was going on.
To his great relief, a girl’s figure appeared around the corner of the house. There was no way to tell exactly who it was, what with the bonnet pulled tightly around her face, the shawl, and the darkness. It was the shape of Susie, but it was also the shape of a dozen other Amish girls. He was about to panic again, thinking that it might be the girl heading for the buggy behind him. This would only add to his shame.
She veered to the left, disappearing out of sight behind his buggy. This could still mean anything. It could just as easily be the girl going to her boyfriend’s buggy as Susie coming to his buggy. For the horrible three seconds of waiting, he saw doom hanging over him, shame completely overrunning this whole evening.
Susie’s hand appeared before anything else. She grabbed the side of the buggy, placed her foot on the step, and gracefully, with the balance perfected by a hundred such maneuvers, came through the door to sit beside him on the seat. Only the edges of her shawl brushed his legs.
The relief shot through him like a stimulant. His voice carried his intense pleasure. “Good evening.”
“Good evening,” she said, more than matching the intensity of his voice. This was her first date, longed for and anticipated until at times it had turned into that hopeless despair a person feels about things that may never happen.
“You liked the singing?” he asked, searching for anything to say at the moment.
“Oh, it was nice, I guess,” she said shyly. “I was thinking about when you would take me home.”
She distinctly leaned toward him until her shoulder pressed against his arm, her eyes looking ahead in the darkness. This was much better than he had imagined. He pulled himself up in his seat, feelings of manhood flowing through him.
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