Rebecca's Choice (18 page)

Matthew grinned when she walked into the barn. “Sleepyhead, wake up,” he commented.

The reasons were plenty for why she should look so, but she just grinned at him. She didn’t want Matthew to know any of this yet. At twelve years of age, he would find out soon enough. When she and John didn’t go along for communion, he would learn that something was wrong. Before that she didn’t want him burdened with the matter.

She knew this was a defense tactic, not totally justified, and about as effective as the deer that stomped its hooves at the hounds. It felt good, as if she had some control.

“You shouldn’t stay up so late,” Matthew said, his tone admonishing her. “Children who can’t get up should be in bed by ten.”

She made a face at him, not able to help it, which just encouraged Matthew.

“I can make you some soup, but I don’t think it will cure love sickness. When are you and that songbird going to tie the knot?”

“His name is John,” she said, as if Matthew didn’t know.

“John…John,” he sang in a singsong voice, holding a milker on one arm and using the other to push against a cow to bring it into position. “My sweet John, my darling lovey-love, why don’t you marry me?”

“You are despicable,” she said, knowing she shouldn’t let him get under her skin.

“In the morning I see your face,” he crooned. “In the evening I hear your name. Won’t you be my lovey-love, my darling teddy bear?”

“You are worse than despicable,” she said. His teasing finally got to her. The urge to laugh at him came in spite of her mood.

Matthew laughed with her good naturedly. At the moment he seemed to be much older than his twelve years.

“Where did you hear that song?” she asked, suspicion in her voice.

“I just made it up,” he said with a straight face.

She glared at him.

“Well…” He turned a little red in the face. “I heard it playing on the radio in town the other day when Dad took me in. It sounded something like that. I can’t remember, really. I made most of it up. Seeing your face made me do it.”

“I don’t look that bad, surely.”

“Not really—just sad.”

This caught Rebecca off balance because it came from Matthew. The stinging tears returned.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “for whatever it is.” He then went back to placing the milker on the cow.

“I have to help with breakfast,” she said a moment later. Already she had taken longer in the barn than planned. Mattie might well be ready for her help in the kitchen.

Matthew seemed to understand. He nodded his head, as she slipped out the barn door. In the kitchen Mattie didn’t take long before she asked Rebecca to tell her about yesterday. Rebecca knew there was no time for a long quiet conversation, so she let her troubles slip out while mixing pancake batter and warming the pan.

Mattie listened quietly, busying herself with the bacon and eggs. When Rebecca finished she simply said, “Your father needs to be told, the sooner the better.”

“I know, but he can’t do anything anyway.”

“Sounds like you need all the help you can get. Who would have ever thought, you—of all people—could get this deep in trouble.”

“It’s not my fault,” Rebecca wailed.

“You haven’t done much to help,” Mattie said kindly enough. “That much I know. Why did you hide that ring for all these years—in the house, to boot, and right under our noses? What were you thinking? That no one would find out?”

“I hid it well. You never did find it.”

Mattie glanced at her. “See? That’s what I mean. You have a record. Can’t you see for yourself? You can blame the bishop or the deacon. I know how he is. He doubts everyone. In this case I have sympathies.”

“I didn’t lie,” Rebecca insisted.

“I believe you on that. But now you have a mess to deal with. Go get the girls up for breakfast.”

Rebecca went upstairs and made certain her sisters were awake and actually dressing themselves before she returned to the kitchen. She set the last plate on the table, as they came in sleepy eyed.

“It’s time you started helping me in the mornings too,” Mattie told the oldest, Katie. “Rebecca’s not going to be around forever.”

“Where’s she going?” Katie wanted to know, as she slid along the back bench. “Is Leona having another baby?”

“She’s growing up, just as you are,” Mattie said. “Next spring the wedding will happen.”

“Oh that.” Katie made a face. “I suppose so.”

Rebecca’s heart skipped a beat. She hung onto her mother’s words. Next spring. So her mother did believe there would still be a wedding in spite of all this. The hope soothed her soul.

After breakfast Lester announced he needed to drive into town right away. One of the plow blades loosened yesterday, and he had broken the bolt trying to tighten it. Matthew would have to get the horse ready for school on his own.

Rebecca thought her mother would protest, but she didn’t. For the rest of the day, Rebecca had no chance to tell her father about the troubling news. After dinner it appeared as if Rebecca was going to have a chance, but she must have decided not to broach the subject with Matthew around. Not till after eight, when the children were in bed and Matthew was upstairs, did the chance come.

Lester listened soberly.

When Rebecca had finished, he wanted to know what Isaac thought about this.

“I don’t know,” Rebecca told him. “I don’t think he likes it.”

“Likes what?” Lester asked.

“That I have to stay back from communion.”

“I see.” Her father seemed to think long and hard.

“We don’t like it either,” Mattie said.

“I hope it doesn’t come to something else,” Lester finally said.

“To what?” Rebecca wanted to know, a dread creeping over her.

“You may have to call off the wedding,” Lester said.

“You really mean that?” Mattie asked before Rebecca could respond. “Their wedding is planned for the spring.”

“Let’s just hope for the best. Sorry,” Lester said, glancing at Rebecca.

Rebecca couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Her father thought she might have to tell John their courtship was called off. The fact that she was twenty-one wouldn’t help in this case, she knew. Her father’s word would still carry, if he were to demand such an action.

“Surely I won’t have to!” she said, knowing her voice trembled.

“We hope not,” Mattie said. “You’re father is just saying the worst thing that could happen. It doesn’t mean that it will.”

“That’s right,” Lester said. “We’ll hope for the best.” He reached for the latest copy of
The Budget
and opened it, the sound of rustling paper ending any further conversation. Rebecca slipped quietly upstairs and found relief in tears again.

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

R
ebecca knew that the strange glances had started. The youth gathering, held tonight at the Miller’s place on the hill, already was in high gear. She had caught a glimpse of John earlier, while he was propping up one of the buggy wheels to raise a volleyball net higher for the game that was soon to start. His gaze wandered in her direction, and they exchanged brief smiles—their only exchange all evening.

John’s tender look was most certainly more pleasant than the other looks she received that evening. Rebecca doubted whether anyone knew about the upcoming communion debacle. Pre-communion church would be this weekend. Likely the news of
The Budget
article had made its way around, though. Such things couldn’t be kept secret even from the youth, but that didn’t dull the pain now that the sting had come.

Wilma just blurted out the question on the way over. She and Will had picked her up tonight. Rebecca had considered driving on her own but decided to face the music instead.

It hadn’t taken long. Will had just turned onto the blacktop from Rebecca’s driveway when Wilma asked, “Is it true you are really going to get it—all that money? I can’t believe it!”

Seated in the tight buggy, Rebecca chuckled, surprising herself when she considered what this involved.

“Then it’s not true,” Wilma said. “You never can trust that
Budget.
I’ve told Mom many a time. You hear that, Will?”

“She hasn’t said anything yet,” Will said, his voice calm and not too interested. Rebecca knew he had taken one of the Wengerd girls home a month or so ago. She came from one of the west church districts.

“It’s true,” Rebecca said. “All of it.”

Wilma’s hand went over her mouth. “I can’t believe this.”

“So you’re rich?” Will asked, curious now.

“You want to marry me?” Rebecca asked. She figured she might as well play along with the story.

“Sure. Tomorrow,” he said, with a straight face, “if Bishop Martin will do it. You have to marry Amish I understand.”

Rebecca made a face at him, to which he burst out laughing.

Wilma wasn’t so amused. “Would you two quit joking about this? It’s serious.”

“Martin seems to think so. I’m not to go along with communion,” Rebecca told them. They might as well know. The news would get around with a better spin if it came from her own mouth. A sympathy factor in her favor, she figured.

Will whistled, the sound drifting into the evening air.

“Would you quit that?” Wilma told him.

He answered with another whistle—a longer one this time.

“I agree,” Rebecca said. Will hadn’t said any words, but his whistle was exactly how she felt.

Wilma made some more exclamations, dug a little bit deeper, but Rebecca offered no more information—nothing about the ring at least. If it had to come out at all, this, she figured, would have to come out of someone else’s mouth.

The crowd of girls around her chattered away. Over by the buggies, the boys were ready to start the game. They had two playing fields set up, outlined with white flour from the Miller’s bakery, which was just across the road.

Four captains were appointed. They pulled away from each other and began to choose teams. The process wasn’t done with a lot of care. Winning wasn’t the big thing—playing was more important. An approximate equal number of boys and girls needed to be on each team. With this they were careful.

Couples were usually left intact, the favor both granted and expected in return. When no matches were known, the hapless pair might be anyone, the decision sprung at the discretion of the captain. No magical endings were expected from these pairings. Plenty of other times existed for that.

Rebecca stood beside John. She relished the moments in public with him. He seemed to stand taller when they were being watched. He didn’t appear to be ashamed to be beside her, at least that’s what Rebecca thought. She wondered if this would change after communion and decided it wouldn’t. John would not participate either. He would share in her misfortune. Her smile in his direction showed her gratitude, the warmth of her feelings, her love for him.

“Let’s get going,” some boy said. “These love birds make me nervous.”

“Get yourself one,” someone said in response. Chuckles sounded around them.