Rebecca's Promise (26 page)

With the hamper full of clean wash, she placed a box of wooden snaps on top of the clothing and set it away from the washer. Before heading outside, she refilled the machine and started another load of wash.

Stepping outside, the sun was already climbing fast and trying to heat things up. From what she could tell, it would only get better. Behind the house and to the south of the garage was the wash line. Its three wire strings were dripping from melting frost.

She took out the first pair of pants and shook them in the morning sunshine. Pleasure ran through her as she pinned the pants onto the line. There was something primitive and satisfying about the moment, increased by each item that got snapped onto the line.

When the hamper was empty, the line hung heavy from the load, its contents unmoving in the morning cold. Little shimmers of steam rose from the first few pieces as the sun caught them in its warmth. She took a deep breath, taking a moment to rest and run her eyes down the line of clothing. In that moment, standing there and looking at her wash, she felt feminine—like a woman, like the world was made for her, like she belonged here among children, home, and love.

Oddly, there was no particular man associated with her thoughts, just the nebulous feelings of being held close by strong arms. Moments later, she remembered her duty with a start and reached down and into the hamper.

Back in the garage, she found the next load of wash almost done. She waited for a few minutes, then pulled the button out to shut it off. From there it was back to running dripping wash through the wringer and hanging it out on the line. By eleven thirty everything was on the line, and she was ready for lunch.

Leona had prepared two sandwiches and had set them on the kitchen table with glasses of orange juice.

“My, you are a fast worker,” she exclaimed.

Rebecca smiled. “And tired,” she replied

“Well, I would think so. I have the sandwiches fixed. When do you think the wash will dry?”

Rebecca thought about it and said, “I would say late this afternoon.”

“You think it will dry completely?”

“Maybe you’d better go out and see,” Rebecca said doubtfully. “I think it will. But Mom is always better at knowing those things than I am.”

Leona nodded. “I’ll go out and look after we have something to eat. You certainly need it more than I do.”

“But you’re feeding someone else,” Rebecca said.

“And what about us? We’re hungry too,” James piped up.

“Yes, I suppose you are,” Leona chuckled, taking a seat and motioning for Rebecca to take one too.

As they ate, Rebecca decided to pose the question she had been harboring since she arrived.

“Do you think I could visit the schoolhouse this afternoon? Before the wash is dry?”

Leona thought, did a few calculations, and replied, “I don’t know why this wouldn’t be a good time. I figured you would want to visit
sometime. The boys are behaving themselves, at least for now, the wash doesn’t get dry till around four or so, and that would give you plenty of time. We can’t possibly put it all away tonight at that hour, but once it’s inside, we can take our time tomorrow. I hope I’m well enough to help then.”

“I’ll do it myself if you’re not,” Rebecca assured her.

Leona nodded. “I’ll go out and take a look at the wash. This afternoon may be the best time for you to walk on over to the school.”

“Well, finish your sandwich. I’m not in such a hurry,” Rebecca said.

So Leona did take her time, grinning openly at her rounded stomach when she was done. “I hope he’s satisfied. Now, let’s go see about that wash.”

L
eona carefully stepped down the two steps and into the garage, gasping as her foot landed on the concrete floor. “I guess we could have gone out the front door, but this is closer.”

“You don’t have to come out at all,” Rebecca assured her.

“Ach! Ya! It does me good. I’ve been in the house way too much—baby coming or not.” Leona opened the outside door, breathing the cold air in deeply. “I
need
this.”

Carefully Leona walked around the back to the wash line. Touching the first few pieces of wash and brushing her fingers over them, a pleased smile crossed her face. “They’re already drying quite well.”

“That’s what I was hoping you would say,” Rebecca said.

The verdict was the same with the other lines and also on the farthest end, which Leona insisted on checking also. “I need the exercise. Maybe it will hurry things up.”

“Will you be okay then for an hour or so? What about Leroy and James?” Rebecca was still concerned.

“Oh! Ya! I’ll watch them. You go on up to the school. It will be three o’clock or later before everything’s dry. The girls can help you carry the wash in when they come home.”

“I’ll go right away then,” Rebecca replied.

As Leona went inside, Rebecca took a deep breath and began her walk toward the school.

Out on the road, she stayed close to the shoulder in case a car came, but the road was empty.

To Rebecca’s right, she noticed that the English farmer had recently worked the field. It was plowed under, the rows of soil fully exposed to the wind and weather. To her left were the hay fields of Emery Stoll, if she remembered correctly. She could see his place coming into view at the corner of 500 and the state road.

Emery’s farm had a prosperous look to it—a red-roofed smaller barn on 500 and a large two-tiered brown one on the state road. The white two-story house was in a typical Amish rectangular shape, but without a front or back porch.

Behind that was the schoolhouse, its worn roof looking no better than it had on Sunday. In the back was the baseball field. She could see children bursting out of the back doors for their lunch-hour playtime, having just finished eating inside.

Quickening her pace, she wanted to arrive in time to watch. Thinking of cutting across the fields as she would have done when younger, she decided against it. If someone should see her, it would look strange indeed to see a nearly twenty-one-year-old Amish girl walking across a hay field in the middle of the day.

But she wanted to do it—badly wanted to do it. Why did big people no longer do what they wanted? Now they had to consider how it looked. When she had been younger, she wouldn’t have thought about it for a minute. Then, she was sure, anyone seeing her would have thought of her as adventurous, courageous, maybe even seen a sign of a bright future in a child who took the straight way to her destination. Now, it was different. She was an adult.

Walking as quickly as she could, her breath was soon coming in short jerks. This would not do either. Sweating under her coat would make for a miserable time watching the ballgame behind the school-house. Taking off the coat was not an option either because it was simply too cool for that.

She wanted to watch the game because it would take her back to
another day when she and Atlee had played on this very ground. Back then when the sides were picked, the captain who picked Atlee would usually pass on a boy for his next pick in favor of her.

It was highly unusual for any girl to be picked until the best of the boys were already chosen. But the risk was usually taken because of her reputation as a first baseman. She consistently caught the balls Atlee threw to her from his position as shortstop. Groans would sometimes break out at the pairing, but the opposing captain was not about to waste his pick of a boy by choosing her without Atlee.

She smiled at the memory. She enjoyed it…yet why did these memories make her afraid somehow? Was it that they inevitably led to memories of the promise? Was this what she was afraid of?

With renewed courage, she walked on. She would just have to face what might lay ahead and go wherever the fear was hiding. And then it would be over, wouldn’t it? Comforted, she slowed down as a car passed her.

As she resumed her speed, she remembered that this was where she and Atlee had walked so many times. Right here but in the opposite direction of course…so many years ago now. He, a freckle-faced, brown-haired boy, blue eyes shining—and she with her thin knees pumping up and down under her dress as she tried to keep up with him.

“Hurry, Rebecca!” he would say on a blustery afternoon with rain clouds threatening. “I have to get home to my traps.”

“You checked them this morning,” she would tell him, knowing how conscientious he was about getting up early, lest an animal suffer all day from being trapped the night before.

“But they move around more in bad weather.”

“Well, then you just have to go fast on your own. I’ll walk with the other girls.”

“Ah,” he would say, regret in his voice and blue eyes, but he would hurry on. He would quicken his pace and leave her behind to walk with her older sister and friends.

She watched him go again even now in her memory, her heart aching. But was that something to be ashamed of? Everyone had known about them. Even Leona remarked on the couple they made. Nothing was hidden. Hadn’t it been a perfectly normal first love? The kind everyone had—one that would pass with time? But why had it not passed for her? Why couldn’t she leave it behind as others had? And leave it behind was what she must surely do. A new life, holding promise and hope, lay in front of her.

Resolutely she turned into the schoolhouse circle driveway, gravel crunching under her feet. Shouts from behind the schoolhouse were already beginning as the game got into full swing.

Before she walked around to the back, she took a good look at the front of the schoolhouse. This was
her
school, her school and Emma’s. That was how she would forever see it, she supposed. It looked common and plain enough now, but without much effort, it became a grand structure, mighty and tall, seen from the height and mind of a sixth grader.

Glancing through the windows as she went by, it looked the same. More desks were lined up in the central open room, but they were either the same desks or more just like them. Little desks for little students and larger ones for larger students. The same blackboards hung on the front wall with white chalk set in the trays underneath and erasers hanging half on and half off.

Today’s assignments were still being written in large letters across the blackboard on the right side, just as Emma had done.

She grimaced, feelings from the past sweeping over her. Emma’s voice sounded in her ear in answer to a math question from long ago. “You can do it. Just add all the numbers together and divide by the amount of numbers you used.”

Even now the terror of the math book still bothered her. Much as she liked Emma, no soothing teacher’s voice could ever quite overcome that. Numbers had a way of getting away from her, disappearing somewhere in the brain. But with Emma’s assistance, she achieved a B average, even in that dreaded subject.

Rounding the corner, she walked across the rest of the driveway and onto the grass beside home plate. Intent on the game, the children paid her scant attention other than the closest ones muttering “Hi.”

A teacher she knew walked up and welcomed her. Betsy Yoder had been in her grade in school—a short girl with a ready smile. Rebecca hadn’t known she was teaching but wasn’t surprised. Betsy could get a hundred in math class without even trying.