Rebecca's Promise

by Jerry S. Eicher

  “I saw you watching the clock,” he said. “I’m glad you said yes the other day at the post office.” He laughed a little, pleasure now filling the place where his anger had been.

  There was no response from Susie, just an increasing of the pressure on his arm. They drove out of the driveway and turned north toward her place.

  “Where were the visitors from today?” he asked, as he let his horse pick up speed.

  “I didn’t know all of them. Most came from Holmes County.” Her voice came from beside him, thrilling him with its nearness. Now he remembered how much he had wanted her with him, for this moment, all to himself, his girl.

  “I think they all have family here,” he offered. “At least Rebecca Keim does.” The name was no more out of his mouth than he wished he hadn’t said it. Glancing at her in the darkness, he waited for the shoulder to draw away, but it did not.

  “Her aunt is having a baby. She’s here to help.”

  “I see.” The subject really held no interest to him, other than not wanting to see her on another Sunday to torment him with her presence. “So when is the baby due?”

  “This week,” she said, now drawing herself up straight on the seat, away from him and pulling her shawl tighter, as if she were cold.

  “You cold?” he asked, reaching for the buggy blanket under the seat. Giving the black robe a shake to undo it, he wrapped one end around his legs and offered the other side to her.

  “A little,” she said, taking the offered end and wrapping it around herself. In a moment she pulled it up higher on her chest. “Are you always this interested in babies? That’s really sweet of you,” she mentioned in a half-whisper.

  His mind spun in desperation, searching for a response. “I was just wondering how long Rebecca would be around,” he said. Whatever her response was, it would be easier than pretending an overwrought interest in babies.

  “Oh,” she said simply, “you knew her from school?”

  “We all did. She was a grade ahead of me.”

  “Do you know what grade I was in?” she asked.

  “Mine, of course,” he said, smiling even though she couldn’t see him. This was going quite well.

  She breathed deeply, as he pulled in the reins to turn into her driveway. Parking by their barn, she waited in the buggy. He hopped out and tied his horse, making sure the rope was tight—he wouldn’t want to come out and discover his horse had gone home by itself. With that secure, Luke walked back to the buggy, where Susie was already on the ground waiting for him.

  In the hushed darkness, he allowed her to lead them toward the house. Her shawl switched against the bushes at the end of the walk, their still silhouettes barely visible. That was something he admired about this place. They might be poor, but the place was well-kept. Nothing like how the English kept their lawns, just a line of green bushes behind a split rail fence. Appropriate and tasteful. If he had to stay poor all his life, Susie might be a good wife to have. Trained, as she would no doubt be, in making the best out of little.

  He would still need to check if she was a big spender. Even with money, a big spender would be out. It was indeed something to keep in mind.

  She was holding the front door open for him, so he brought his mind back to the present. “Your parents keep the place up nice,” he said.

  “Yes. Mom is good at that.”

  He couldn’t help himself, and so he replied, “You’re probably learning too.”

  She laughed, her voice low and bubbly. “I hope so.”

  Stepping past her, he wasn’t surprised to find both her parents still up. That was the kind of people they were. And he was glad. It made him feel welcome.

  “Hello,” he said smiling.

  “Good evening,” James, her father, replied, nodding at him and glancing up from reading The Budget. He was a short man with a beard still black as coal and blue eyes that shone when he was interested in something. Luke noticed they were shining. Nancy, seated on a chair beside her husband, only smiled at him.

  Susie, who seemed at a loss with what to do, finally cleared her throat and said, “I guess we’ll sit in the living room.”

  “Ah, sure.” With that decision made, Luke took a seat on the couch.

  “We were just ready to leave.” Nancy looked in James’s direction.

  “Oh! Ya,” he muttered, laying The Budget on the floor. He rose and nodded his head again before heading toward their bedroom in the back of the house. Nancy followed right behind him.

  “Well,” Susie sighed, letting out her breath as her mother disappeared around the corner. She then came over and sat beside Luke on the couch. “It’s so good to have you here,” she said softly, adding, “finally.”

  Luke settled into the couch, a feeling of contentment going all the way through him. Was this the way it felt to have a girl? He supposed it must be, since that’s the way it was with Susie. Feeling completely confident, he reached out without any compunction and laid his hand on hers. When she blushed violently, he squeezed her hand gently for just a moment, then let go.

  The pleasure was all he had ever thought it would be and more. He felt a wave of emotion for her, thinking that perhaps he would still date her even when he came into the money, the thought bringing him more pleasure than he had expected.

  She rose to her feet, her face still red. “Let me get you something to eat.”

  He nodded and watched her go toward the kitchen.

  She returned moments later, carrying a plate of cookies and crumb-sprinkled brownies with little swirls of caramel on top.

  “Chocolate chip?” he asked, glancing down at the plate.

  She nodded, a hopeful look on her face.

  “I love those,” he assured her as he took one of the cookies.

  “Would you like some orange juice?”

  “Yes,” he said, the words coming out almost in a croak. He coughed to cover it up.

  She returned to the kitchen. Meanwhile, all thoughts of her plainness left Luke’s mind. He felt like a man in her presence, the wonder of it filling him to overflowing.

  When she came back, he asked, “You’re not going to eat one?”

  “No,” she said. “I’ve had enough food for the day. Plus I’m nervous.”

  “You don’t have to be,” he said warmly, yet delighted that she should be nervous around him.

  She took her seat beside him again, watching as he ate another cookie.

  The conversation turned to the recent snowstorm and what might be ahead weather wise. They discussed the weddings in November and who they knew would probably be marrying soon. By eleven o’clock, Luke told Susie he had to be going, stood up, and walked to the door. Since that was a little early, a cloud crossed her face, but it disappeared when he asked her if he could see her again.

  When she said yes, he squeezed her hand again before stepping out onto the porch. As he untied his horse and drove out the lane, he caught himself whistling a tune he had heard at the gas station last week. It was an English tune, forbidden really, but he decided that this was a special occasion.

  Going down the road, a cloud soon crossed his mind. Tomorrow he would have to face the money problem again. Money, Emma, and his mother, which had seemed so far away only moments before. He decided he would let it stay that way, pushing everything but thoughts of Susie out of his mind.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  On Monday morning Rebecca was determined to prepare a full breakfast and have it done in time for Stephen to eat before catching his ride to work. That was at six thirty. It was now ten minutes till six. She was watching the bacon at the moment, making sure it didn’t burn.

  The water for the oatmeal had been measured, poured into a pan, and set on the burner. The eggs she would do last. That way they would not have to be kept warm—as she would need the oven for the toast.

  She looked up when she heard footsteps in the hall. Leona groaned as she came into the kitchen.

  “You don’t have to make so much bre
akfast,” Leona protested, coming over to survey the frying bacon.

  “Now, you just sit down,” Rebecca replied. “I can handle it.”

  “I know, but I don’t feel too bad this morning.” Leona kept her place at the bacon pan, testing and flipping the pieces with a spatula in one hand, her other hand on her extended stomach. “A lot of activity,” she stated flatly, as if she were speaking to the whole world, “but no signs yet.” Then she gasped. “Oh! Stephen’s lunch. I forgot to tell you about that.”

  “What goes in it?”

  “No, you’re not going to do that yet. Here. You take over the bacon. I’ll fix Stephen’s sandwich and throw in some other things.”

  Rebecca decided it was better to go along with Leona and stepped in front of the pan of sizzling bacon. Leona took over a corner of the kitchen table to make the sandwich, moving at a surprising rate of speed.

  “When do the children have to get up?” Rebecca asked, turning on the burner for the water.

  “Six thirty or so. Stephen eats before they do on weekdays.” Leona slid the sandwich in a plastic bag and from there into a lunch pail. “He’s probably coming right now,” Leona said, hearing the sound of footsteps. When Stephen entered the kitchen, she told him, “We’re almost ready.”

  He nodded and took a chair, but then noticed Leona making his lunch. Rising, he went to the cupboard and handed her a bag of chips and some cookies. As Leona packed the extra items, Rebecca placed the bread in the oven to toast.

  “Can you still work outside in this weather?” Leona asked Stephen, as he sat down again. Returning to the bacon pan, she took a piece out and held it up in the air for inspection. Satisfied, she placed it on the plate, quickly removing the rest.

  “We have metal to put on a pole barn. I imagine that’s what the boss will try to accomplish first. If there’s ice on the boards, we’ll likely move over to the Westmorland job. There’s inside trim work there.”

  “Will the work last all winter?” Leona asked.

  “I think so. If not, we may have to drive a little farther. There’s work there for sure.”

  Leona sighed. “With the baby coming, it would be rough if you were out of work.”

  “I’ve thought of that. Last winter we had a slowdown. It looks better now. Especially with the amount of trim work the boss claims is coming up.”

  “You don’t have to worry about things like this, do you?” Leona asked in Rebecca’s direction.

  “No. Not money right now,” Rebecca said. “Other things.”

  “It’s always something,” Leona sighed wearily. “When I deliver this baby, I’ll sure be thankful.”

  “Is the midwife checking on you again?” Stephen asked.

  “No, not until the baby comes. When she was here on Friday evening, she said things look well enough to wait until the baby is on its way.”

  “That’s something to be thankful for,” Stephen assured her. “The Lord has been good to us with all the births.”

  “Yes,” Leona agreed, setting a plate in front of him. Rebecca already had four eggs fried and was taking the toast out of the oven. “We count ourselves blessed. No matter how it turns out, He knows what He is doing.”

  “I have enough eggs done for Stephen,” Rebecca said, from in front of the oven. “The oatmeal’s ready too. Why don’t you start?”

  “No, we three are going to eat together,” Leona said. “Make four more eggs. That doesn’t take too long. Then we can eat.”

  “My ride’ll be here,” Stephen said.

  Leona changed her mind quickly. “Wait on the eggs, Rebecca. Come sit down, and we can have prayer. Then Stephen can eat while you make some more eggs.”

  Rebecca stopped in mid-air, an egg in hand, her arm raised. She quickly put the egg back into the carton and took a seat at the table. They bowed their heads together for a few minutes. When Stephen lifted his head, Rebecca moved back to the stove and cracked four more eggs into the pan.

  By the time those were done, Stephen was already eating his oatmeal, having gone through the four eggs, bacon, and two pieces of toast. Leona, who was waiting for Rebecca before starting, took two of the eggs from the plate when Rebecca brought them over and sat down. “I’m hungry this morning,” she said. “Is that good or bad?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Rebecca said, sliding the other two eggs onto her plate.

  “It’s good,” Stephen said with conviction. “I think it’s going to be another easy birth.”

  “Don’t say that,” Leona gasped. “Such things are best left unsaid. If good is coming, it will come in its own time. We shouldn’t try to encourage it.”

  “I wasn’t,” Stephen protested. “I was just observing. Either way, you’ll be okay.”

  “I hope so. My! I wish this would be over.” Leona glanced down at her bulging stomach.

  “I can imagine,” Stephen said quietly.

  “No, you can’t,” she told him. “You’ve never given birth to a child.”

  He grinned. “I hope I never do.”

  “Don’t be smart,” she retorted. “It’s not fun.”

  Stephen leaned over the table to squeeze her hand. “It’ll soon be over. Then we will have another blessing in our home.”

  Gravel crunched on the driveway outside, as headlights came streaming through the front window.

  “Your ride’s here,” Leona said.

  “Have a good day,” Stephen said to both of them. He took his lunch pail and went out the front door.

  While Rebecca fried more eggs, Leona woke the children. They gathered around the table, rubbing their sleepy eyes.

  “I want plenty of bacon,” Elmo declared, awake enough to voice his request.

  “You will get three pieces. Only three,” Leona said.

  He grunted his dissatisfaction. “I need more than that to do my chores.”

  “Then you can eat more oatmeal. That’s better for you anyway.”

  “It doesn’t taste as good as bacon.”

  Leona shook her head. “None of us can always have things that taste the best in life. You might as well learn that now as later.”

  Elmo shrugged his shoulders, having heard that lesson before.

  “So how’s school going?” Rebecca asked Lois.

  “Oh, okay,” she ventured cautiously. “I got a hundred in English last week.”

  “That’s because she’s a girl,” Elmo said, reaching for the eggs. He slid three onto his plate.

  “There’s nothing wrong with English,” Rebecca replied before Leona had a chance to speak up. “Everyone should learn it.”

  Elmo snorted. “Some of the boys draw ugly faces on their English workbooks.” He laughed at the thought. “Henry has a huge dragon on his. It’s breathing fire and roasting a girl.”

  “That’s horrible,” Leona gasped. “Doesn’t teacher pay any attention to what you boys are doing?”

  Rebecca, with a little more recent school experience, chuckled at the description. “How does the picture look?”

  “Come to think of it, it was a pretty good drawing,” Elmo said. “The dragon had real long spines, all the way up in the air. They hung down right at the end. His fire went out in a great swoop and swirled right around the girl. The girl looked like,” he glanced at Lois, with a grin on his face, and turned to whisper in Rebecca’s direction with his hand on the edge of his mouth, “Lois.”

  “The wicked boy,” Lois snapped. “He’s always in trouble. Now he’s making fun of me.”

  Leona was gasping again. “I can’t believe you. Both of you. How can you talk like that? It’s not right.”

  Elmo shrugged his shoulders again. “I was just answering Rebecca’s question.”

  “You ought to say it better,” Leona said.

  “I just told it the way it was. I didn’t know there was a better way.”

  Leona sighed, piling the last of the eggs onto the serving plate as Rebecca shut the burner off.

  “Do you know why I asked you about the draw
ing?” Rebecca asked Elmo.

  “No,” he said, a fork full of eggs halfway to his mouth. As he paused, egg dripped back onto his plate. He quickly completed the trip, chewing while he waited for the answer.

  “Because apparently Henry is good at drawing. Which could be considered just as girly as English.”

  Elmo’s face lit up with glee. “I never thought of that. Wait till I tell him.”

  “Don’t do that,” Rebecca said. “There’s nothing wrong with being able to draw.”

  “You just said it’s girly. What boy wants to be girly?” Elmo said.

  “I didn’t say it’s girly. I said it could be considered as girly as English. The point is—neither is girly. They just are what they are. If a boy can do either well, then they’re boyish.”

  Elmo was still grinning. “I’m still going to tell him. Wait until he hears this. He’ll never draw again.”

  “You will do no such thing,” Leona said, glaring at him. “You will behave yourself. Leave such things alone. If Henry can draw, you ought to be glad for him instead of trying to get him to stop.”

  “This is all getting too complicated.” Elmo put the last of his eggs in his mouth and reached for the oatmeal. “You always complicate things all up.”

  “That’s so you can learn,” Leona said. “Most things in life aren’t simple.”

  “They are if they’re just left alone.” Elmo topped off his oatmeal with a large spoonful of brown sugar and slowly stirred in some milk.

  “Well, you children will learn what’s right. You will all grow up to be decent church members like you ought to be. Now finish your breakfast and get going with the chores. There’s no sense being late. See, it’s already after seven o’clock.”

  “Okay,” Elmo mumbled, bent over his oatmeal, “I’ll not tell Henry anything about his drawing.”

  “The rest of you, gather up the wash from your rooms. Make sure your rooms are straightened up before you change for school. I’ll pack your lunches.”

  “You think the wash will dry on the line today?” Rebecca asked, as she began clearing off the table.