Rebecca's Promise

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Rebecca felt a wave of fear because of this unexpected change in her aunt. Is Leona in worse condition than anyone knew? What if the blood clot is letting go?

  “Well, you’re not doing anything more today,” she said sternly. “And your leg—let’s take a look at it.”

  “It’s nothing really.” Leona didn’t sound convincing at all. “I just should be able to do more. I always could with the other children.”

  “You’ve had eight children,” Rebecca said sharply now, surprised to hear herself speak to her aunt like this. “Let’s see the leg,” she repeated.

  Rebecca gently took Leona’s hand and lifted it away, revealing a red and swollen section just above Leona’s knee. The sight caused Rebecca to catch her breath. Touching the area gently with her fingers, she could feel the heat. “No wonder the midwife took you in.” Rebecca was horrified. “Has Stephen seen this?”

  “Not this morning.”

  “Has it gotten worse today?” Rebecca asked.

  “I don’t think so. Not by much.”

  “You have to rest now,” Rebecca insisted, wondering where she was finding the strength to order her aunt around. She expected at any moment the old Leona would return, strong, wise, and untouched by her own pain.

  “But there’s so much to do.”

  “The recliner.” Rebecca took her arm, gently leading until Leona got going. She then took baby Jonathon from her aunt, leaving the hamper sitting on the porch.

  “And the extra weight,” Leona moaned, “it’s not going anywhere. I know Stephen notices.”

  “You shouldn’t be talking like that,” Rebecca said, slightly embarrassed.

  “Here I am embarrassing you,” Leona said, as she settled into the recliner. “And now you think you need to stay longer.” Leona moaned again. “And Jonathon’s been crying all morning at the doctor’s office…”

  “Well, he’s asleep now. And I’m going to make you something to eat,” Rebecca said. She then took the sleeping Jonathon to the bedroom, easing him gently onto the mattress, her heart glad that she seemed to know just what to do. It was what her mother would do, she was sure.

  “I’m so fat,” Leona said, as Rebecca returned on her way to the kitchen. “I shouldn’t eat anything at all.”

  “Vegetable soup.” Rebecca ignored Leona’s remark.

  “I have to stay away from food.”

  Leona’s voice wasn’t too firm, Rebecca noticed. “You’d like that?” she asked, keeping her eyes on Leona’s face.

  Her answer was a slight nod, followed quickly by, “But not too much.”

  “You’ll feel better after you eat something, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever feel better,” Leona said.

  “I’ll be right back.” Rebecca felt the need to ignore the remark. Her nurturing instincts, honed from years of taking care of her younger siblings, had proven her mettle, but now she became acutely aware that this was Leona—her aunt—and not a sibling.

  She went to the garage and retrieved the can of vegetable soup. Stepping back into the kitchen, she turned the gas burner on high.

  A quick glance into the living room satisfied her that Leona was okay. She was leaning back, her feet elevated on the recliner.

  With the soup warm, she transferred some to a bowl with a dipper, took a package of soda crackers from a lower cupboard along with her, and arrived at the recliner just as Leona noticed her.

  “I almost fell asleep,” she whispered.

  “That’s what you’re supposed to do,” Rebecca said.

  Leona’s eyes lighted up at the sight of the bowl of steaming soup and the package of crackers in Rebecca’s hands. “I feel like such a baby,” she whispered again.

  “How many do you want?” Rebecca asked, tearing the top of the cracker package carefully.

  “Four, I think.” Leona brought the recliner forward and reached for the bowl of soup. Rebecca gave her the four crackers, quickly handing her two more when the crumbled pieces of the four proved—by the look on Leona’s face—to be insufficient.

  Returning the package of crackers to the kitchen, Rebecca glanced back into the living room and said, “I’m starting on the wash.”

  “Oh, the wash. There’s so much to do around here, and we should be thinking of you packing for the trip home, not doing the wash.”

  “No, this is why I came,” Rebecca told her firmly. “You stay right there while I tackle the job.”

  She began by filling the washing machine. While the water filled, she turned her attention to the piles of wash, particularly aware of Jonathon’s dirty diapers in the bucket because those were of primary concern.

  No wonder women are exhausted, Rebecca thought, as she pulled the first diaper from the bucket of water. The fumes assaulted her nose again, and she unexpectedly gagged. Having grown up with small children in the house, she should be used to the smell, but it had been a while since any of her siblings had been in diapers. She turned her face away to lessen the effect, washed the diaper off in the bucket, and then reached for another. By the time a dozen were done, she no longer had to hold her face at a distance.

  Funny what you get used to, she thought. Such a sweet baby and yet also responsible for such a mess. Sort of like big boys are.

  Lifting the rinsed diapers into the washer, she started the motor with a roar. She hoped its sound was a comfort to Leona instead of cause to wake up from a much-needed rest. Pulling out the plunger on the side, the agitator began rotating, first left then right, swishing the wash around in the water.

  While the load was washing, she prepared another pile of diapers. She had to step into the house momentarily to empty the bucket in the bathroom, and on the way, she took a peek in on Leona. Leona seemed to be sleeping, her chest rising and falling in even motions. And from the back bedroom, Jonathon was quiet too.

  Back in the garage, Rebecca ran the load of wash through the wringer. She hung it on the line after that. The bright white diapers flapped in the morning breeze and started to dry.

  Rebecca was already weary, and it was not yet noon.

  Is it worth it? she wondered. Boyfriends, then husbands, followed by babies and buckets of messy diapers. She wasn’t sure, but with this coming so soon after her experience at the bridge, Emma’s single life was looking better all the time.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Rebecca watched the rows of wash flap in the breeze. The pieces blew sideways with the movement of the air. When one would fall back faster than the other, it created a break in the rhythm.

  So much like the ebb and flow of life, she thought. Like clothing in the wind, that’s how we all are. Washed out some days, bright with hope on others, and then dirty again the next. Used and then clean; used and then clean. That’s how it is.

  At least she felt like that now. The memory of her time at the bridge was still fresh in her mind. How could she have been so stupid, so carried away with her hopes from the past, thinking it even possible that Atlee would remember her after all these years. Still, she had remembered, so why hadn’t he?

  Her heart ached with the pain of it, yet she had done the right thing in going to the bridge. If she had not gone, she would never have known if he had come. But maybe men were different in that way. They said things they did not mean. Promises they would not keep. Love, she pondered the matter, the love of a man, so alluring, so full of promise, and so empty when it came down to it. That’s what it was. On the one hand, they forgot you when it suited their purposes, and on the other hand, they clutched you so hard you couldn’t breathe. It would be so much simpler to stay as she was.

  She would make the same choice Emma had. She might even teach and, thus, influence other young lives…again as Emma had.

  It would be a good life, she told herself, nearly saying it out loud. A good life and a wise choice too.

  Walking back to the garage, the low sound of the humming washing machine grew louder. She stepped inside and turned the washing machine’s wr
inger around to squeeze dry the next load.

  What a wise woman Emma really was. I’ve always felt a special bond with Emma, and now I will be like her. The first pleasant feelings of the day ran though her, bringing with them a sort of comfort Rebecca hadn’t known in a long time.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the wail of the baby from inside, heard faintly above the noise of the washing machine. He’s got healthy lungs, she thought. Already able to make his needs known. It’s the male in him.

  She quickly reached over to slow the washing machine motor down, but didn’t turn it off. Figuring she would be back before long, she left it running rather than restart the motor when she came back out.

  She disengaged the wringer and swung the bar out of the way of any danger. The motion was out of pure habit because there was no one around at the moment to get their hands caught while she was gone.

  Stepping inside, she noticed that Jonathon’s wails were louder now. Leona was already awake and getting to her feet.

  “I’ll get him,” Rebecca said quickly, rushing past the protesting Leona. “You need to stay off your feet.”

  “I have to do something around the house. You’ll have me feeling completely worthless.”

  “With eight children you have plenty to do,” Rebecca said over her shoulder, as she hurried down the hall.

  The back bedroom door was open, baby Jonathon’s voice filling the hall. His cries quieted abruptly as she came into the bedroom, as if he heard her footsteps cross the invisible line of the door’s threshold.

  He was waving his little arms and legs vigorously and trying to fix his eyes on Rebecca. She drew close and said, “Hungry, are you?” He seemed to be trying to fly as she lifted him into the air.

  “Are we ready for Mama?” she asked him. “Little Jonathon want to eat?”

  He moved his feet in his excitement, one soft punt landing to the side of her nose.

  “Now, now,” she said, her heart melting. All the bad things she had thought about him while washing diapers left her in an instant. This was what she would be missing if she followed in Emma’s footsteps.

  I’ll just enjoy my cousins, she told herself, yet the words left an emptiness in her heart. She pushed the thought away as baby Jonathon puckered up, ready to cry again.

  “To Mommy we go,” she said, taking quick steps down the hall before his wailing began again.

  Leona’s face lighted up as Rebecca approached with Jonathon. Immediately she set to nursing him. And Jonathon, on his part, calmly forgot about everyone around him and got busy filling his stomach.

  “Hungry as a man,” Leona chuckled. “How’s the wash going?”

  “About half done,” Rebecca said, quickly calculating the remaining wash loads in her mind.

  “Is it too cold to dry them outside?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I’m so sorry you have to work this hard today, and with me sick yet. I feel so useless.”

  “Your family really needs you.”

  “I know.” Leona’s mood seemed to worsen with that statement.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Rebecca said quickly. “They need you to get better.”

  “I know what you meant,” Leona was clearly trying to rally her sagging feelings. “It’s just this darkness that hangs over me. It comes down heavy when I’m least expecting it. I shouldn’t let it bother me. I’m so sorry.”

  “You have to rest,” Rebecca declared, stating the tried and true—and the only thing that seemed to make sense. Then something from her childhood came to mind. “Do you remember what you said about a sunrise when I was a little girl? It meant a lot to me.”

  “No, I don’t remember,” Leona said.

  “It was a long time ago,” Rebecca said. “I had stayed overnight at your place. You took me out to help chore. You were just newly married then—none of your children had been born. There was a beautiful sunrise that morning.” Rebecca paused, remembering. “The sky was bright with reds and blues, a low bank of clouds hanging right on the edge, orange all over the top in streaks of light.”

  Leona was listening.

  “You said that mornings were when God liked to show off.”

  “What an awful thing to say,” Leona almost gasped.

  “No, it wasn’t,” Rebecca said. “It made me think of what a big God He was.”

  “It was still awful,” Leona protested, but Rebecca saw the hint of a smile on her face.

  “He’s still a big God,” Rebecca said, knowing as she said it that she meant it for herself, not just for Leona.

  “Even when He doesn’t make sense,” Leona said, her mind grasping at the hope offered. Rebecca thought then that Leona might best be left alone. Some thoughts were best unuttered except to the One who knows those thoughts before they’re said.

  “I’ll be going back to the wash,” she said softly.

  Leona simply nodded and said, “I’ll put Jonathon down when he’s ready.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  With one more load of wash left to finish, Rebecca stepped back into the house to peek in on Leona. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully in the recliner, with little Jonathon resting awake on a blanket at her feet. His hands were by his side, his face calm, his eyes open, appearing to be lost in his babyhood experience.

  Not having eaten lunch, Rebecca was hungry and suspected Leona was too. But sleep was the mother’s more pressing need. Rebecca tiptoed into the living room, and the baby turned her way. She half expected him to cry out, but he didn’t. It was all she could do to keep from picking him up, but Leona seemed to be sleeping yet. She satisfied herself with making a puckered up face in his direction, which she supposed he couldn’t see anyway.

  “You can pick him up—I’m not sleeping,” Leona said suddenly, startling her. “Just can’t seem to keep my eyes open.”

  “I’m sorry I woke you,” Rebecca said quickly. “I tried to come in quietly.”

  “I’ve been awake awhile already. It wasn’t you. Just thinking of all the things that need to be done. How’s the wash coming?”

  “Looks like one more load to go.”

  “Weather holding up?”

  “Still warm enough. Things are drying well. Are you hungry?”

  A smile played on Leona’s face. “I must say I am. Maybe some more of that soup will do.”

  “I’m going to make sandwiches for us,” Rebecca said firmly, heading into the kitchen. “You can decide then whether or not to eat it.”

  “Didn’t your mother teach you not to spoil people?”

  “You need taking care of,” Rebecca said, firmness still in her voice.

  “Sounding like your mother, are we?” Leona had only tenderness in hers.

  “You miss your sister?”

  “If you mean do I miss your mother’s bossiness, the answer is no,” Leona said in a complaint Rebecca had heard before.

  “Oldest children are that way sometimes.” Rebecca came to her mother’s defense. “I get complaints all the time—being the oldest one still at home.”

  “I was just thinking,” Leona said with a weak smile, “how thoughtful your mother is, sending you to help me. But then, bossiness aside, she always was like that.”

  Rebecca began the sandwiches. She found some slices of cold beef in the refrigerator, paired it with some cheese, and put it all between slices of homemade bread.

  Leona’s voice continued from the living room. “I suppose that’s what I miss about growing up. I thought being in a family of ten was a little suffocating at the time, but now it feels…safe, I guess. You look so forward to being away from it and on your own, with your own family and your own house. Then suddenly—you feel alone.”

  “You have children,” Rebecca said, trying to be helpful.

  “It’s not the same. Even in the midst of ten, you were responsible pretty much for yourself. Now it’s me—and Stephen, of course—but still, just the two of us with so much to do.”

  “That’s how Mom fee
ls sometimes,” Rebecca said. “I try to help, but I imagine it’s not the same.”

  “No…it isn’t,” Leona agreed. “You’ll see when your time comes.”

  “If my time comes,” Rebecca said. And since the subject had come up, she decided to ask, “Do you think Emma’s life is lonely?”

  “But Emma’s single,” Leona said. “By choice, I suppose. She had chances though.”

  Rebecca’s silence must have aroused Leona’s suspicions.

  “Rebecca, you’re not thinking of remaining single, are you?”

  Rebecca didn’t answer, but because the sandwiches were done, there was nothing left to do but go into the living room.

  Leona’s eyes searched Rebecca’s face. “But what about John?”

  Rebecca shrugged, smiling at Jonathon. He seemed on the verge of bawling for some reason.

  “But you’ve been serious about him for some time. You can’t just change like that.”

  “He’s asked me to marry him,” Rebecca said, figuring her aunt might as well know.

  “Well, then that settles it.” Leona’s face relaxed. “You scared me for a minute.”

  “What’s wrong with Emma’s life?” Rebecca asked.

  “Nothing. It’s just not for you.”

  “But I’m not married to John yet.”

  “You’re promised.”

  Rebecca thought for a second and then said, “Promised? Does everyone keep their promises? What if things change after a promise is made? What if I find that I prefer Emma’s life—teaching school and keeping to myself?”

  “It’s not like having your own family…and your own man.” Leona was looking worried again. “You’re not thinking about going back on John?”

  Rebecca’s silence was all the answer Leona needed.

  “Oh, Rebecca! What brought this on? Not being here with us, I hope!”

  “No. Something else.”

  “You’ve met someone else?”

  “No, I haven’t met someone else.” Rebecca couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice, and Leona noticed.