Rebekah's Quilt (13 page)

“I’ll see you for breakfast, Rebekah.”

She paused in her ascent. “You’ll be here, too?”

Joseph stared up at her. She hadn’t intended for her question to sound gruff, but judging by the way the smile melted from his dimpled face, it had. Forcing a graceful smile, Rebekah stammered to undo her mistake. “Then I’ll be sure to have cinnamon rolls ready.”

Following her lead, Joseph returned her smile. “See you then.”

Turning, she finished climbing the stairs. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she replayed the conversation with Peter in her mind.
What could he have to say to me?

Passing her bedroom, Rebekah instead retreated to her quilting room. Easing down into her rocker, she plucked up her quilting bag. Elnora, ever considerate of her daughter, had placed her sad excuse for a quilt in her bag in the off chance she wanted to practice her lacking skills. With a smile, she began to stitch by moonlight.

CHAPTER NINE

Peter’s voice was harsh in the early morning light. “You invited me back and here I am, though I wish you would have allowed me to speak last night.” His mouth was a hard line as he stared at Rebekah from beneath his hat. The scar above his eye gave him a fierce look, but she wasn’t afraid, despite the presence of the pistols on his hips. She was simply curious what he had to speak to her about.

Joseph appeared at her side. “Breakfast is on the table. Won’t you come in and join us?”

Peter huffed. “I ought to have known you’d be here.” Slowly, he removed his hat. “Yes, I believe I will.” Stepping between them, he walked with confidence to the table.

Elnora and Samuel rose politely.

“You can sit here,” Rebekah whispered. She touched the back of a chair. Peter nodded.

Easing around the table, Rebekah took the seat next to Joseph and across from Peter. An uneasy silence befell the table that, moments before, had been bustling.

Samuel spoke first. “We’ve already blessed this meal, so you are welcome to help yourself.”

Peter ran a hand through his blonde mane. “Much obliged.” Finding a plate in front of him, he pointed to the plate which sat just out of reach. “Biscuit please.”

Careful to keep her face expressionless, Rebekah passed the biscuits. Even Joseph had ignored her special cinnamon rolls she’d made early, just for him. Still, no one spoke. After dumping two ladles of gravy over the fluffy pastries, Peter finally sighed. “I’ll just say what I’ve come to say.”

He focused his burning stare on Rebekah. “I came before ‘cause I heard tale it might be true and I had to see for myself. Now I know that it is.”

Rebekah cut her eyes over to Joseph, who sat nearer to her than usual. The warmth radiating from his body was comforting, as though he would protect her no matter what important piece of news Peter had brought. Joseph glanced at her, their eyes locking for a brief moment.
Thank goodness we are in this together
.

“Two decades ago, a family was coming across the Pike in a covered wagon. They left their home in Philadelphia, packed what they could, and headed west.”

Elnora dropped her fork. It met her breakfast plate in a clatter. Rebekah watched as her mother didn’t retrieve the fork, but simply stared into her lap. Samuel reached over and laid a hand on Elnora’s arm. Peter waited until everyone was still before continuing.

“A woman named Sara and her husband Jerry, were driving the wagon. In the back was the older brother, and Hannah, the baby. Not too far from here, there was an accident.”

Rebekah leaned forward, her eyebrows knitted together.

“Sara and Jerry were killed. Seems they collided with a run-away wagon. Those folks were killed, too.”

Rebekah was powerless to stem her curiosity. “What about the children?”

Peter laced his fingers over his plate. He continued his recitation as though he’d practiced it for years. Or decades. “The boy lived. He was about seven years of age and by some miracle, a passing wagon picked him up as he was running back east. That wagon was headed to Pennsylvania, so they took the boy on.”

“And the girl?” Rebekah’s voice was a whisper.

“It was thought that she was killed, too. But one day, when the boy was all grown up, he came looking for his sister. See,” Peter ran his hand through his hair again. “Those folks that took the boy east were old. They died when he was still just a spud, so that sister is the only family he’s got in the world.”

Elnora still hadn’t looked up, and even the throng of boys was quiet.

“Figured the first place to start looking was the scene of the accident. A youngster, Elijah I believe, sure had a belly-load of answers for all my questions. He’s the one pointed me this way.”

Joseph’s fist clenched and unclenched in his lap.

Rebekah leaned back in her chair. “So what are you saying, Peter?”

Peter glanced at the faces around the breakfast table. “Well, what I’m saying is –”

Samuel pushed his chair back from the table, making everyone jump in unison.

“I’m that boy.”

Rebekah kept her face expressionless as her father rose from his seat. Following suit, Joseph rose, too.

Samuel’s normally melodic voice was flat. “I think you’d better leave now.”

Peter pushed back from the table, looking first to Joseph, then to Samuel. “You boys gonna throw me out then?” He smiled. “It’d take a whole lot more of you than this.” Slowly, he stood.

Joseph’s face was contorted in planes Rebekah had never seen before. “No, we’re not throwing you out. You’re leaving on your own. Now come on.”

Joseph and Samuel moved around opposite sides of the table, forcing Peter to back up to the front door.

Jamming his hat on his head, Peter waved his hands in mock defeat. Stealing a glance over Joseph’s shoulder, he locked eyes with Rebekah. “You’re not Rebekah, your name is Hannah and you’re my sister!”

Too late, Joseph slammed the door.

Joseph and Samuel hovered by the door as Rebekah searched for someone to help her make sense of the Peter’s strange tale.

“Is it true, Ma?”

Elnora, who hadn’t looked up from her lap since dropping her fork, sniffled. The sobs, which had been quiet were now coming long and loud, tearing from her mother like screams from a laboring woman.

Ever slow, Rebekah stood. “Pa?” She searched his face, tears already welling in her eyes. She swiped at them with the back of her hand. “Is it true, Pa? Am I not even your daughter?”

“Rebekah, we never meant to–”

The tears she willed not to fall, spilled over, hanging in her lashes until they dropped onto her cheeks. Anger flashed within her as she turned her face toward the ceiling. “Never meant to lie to me? Never meant to correct me when I called you Father and Mother?”

Thomas sniffed back a sob. “Stop it Sissy, you’re scaring me.”

Only glancing at Thomas a moment, she flickered her hot stare to Joseph. “You knew about this all along, didn’t you?” The accusing tone to her voice made Joseph recoil as though he’d been slapped.

Elnora dabbed her face with a hanky and silenced her sobs. “That’s enough. The Graber’s knew about this, everyone did.” Her voice was serious. “But Joseph was just a baby when your Pa and I found you, naked and hungry, under a bush.”

Rebekah drew in a shuttering breath. “Everyone knows about this? Everyone but me?” The anger was threatening to flash again.

“Rebekah, you’ll take your seat or you’ll leave this table. Understood?”

Rebekah dropped her eyes coolly to meet Elnora’s. “This isn’t my table.” Leaving her breakfast dishes untouched, Rebekah avoided everyone’s probing eyes as she stalked across the sitting area and to the door. Samuel stepped aside, glimmering tears flecking his eyelashes, to give Rebekah a wide berth. Joseph was already gone.

With her hand on the doorknob, Rebekah kept her voice low so that only Samuel could hear. “I’ll be– I’ll be–” She blew out a haughty breath. “Oh I don’t know where I’ll be.” Marching out the door, she let it slam behind her.

“There is not one person I can turn to right now!” The tears ran in rivulets down her cheeks. The weight of Peter’s words was getting heavier by the moment, and if Rebekah didn’t confide in someone soon, she feared she may explode.

Lifting her skirt, Rebekah ran until she heard it. The soft sounds of someone who would understand; someone who didn’t already know the whole sordid story only to keep it from her.

Flinging herself into the sweet-smelling hay, Rebekah wrapped her arms around Buttermilk’s neck. Burying her face in the calf’s warm hide, she sobbed until there were no more tears left for her to cry. With the tears out of the way, she could finally talk.

“Oh Buttermilk, why did this have to happen? And now of all times?”

The tiny calf craned her neck to look at her. “Blehhhh.”

“They lied to me all these years, Buttermilk, they
lied
!”

A twig popped behind her, making her already pounding heart skip a beat. “They didn’t lie, Rebekah. They just never told you.” Joseph ambled over, a sprig of grass in his teeth.

She swiped at her face. It felt puffy and a bit soggy. “Did you know, Joseph? And please don’t lie.”

Squatting, Joseph looked her square in the eye. “No. I didn’t know.”

Rebekah flicked a potato bug off her dress. Buttermilk leaned to investigate it. “If you had known, would you have told me?”

“Of course.”

Rebekah shoved her hand under a scattering of hay. “Really?”

“Really. I have never kept anything from you, Rebekah, and I never will.”

She sighed. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Joseph folded his lanky frame into the straw beside her. “Are you asking me or Buttermilk?”

Her heart was too heavy to smile at his gentle joke. “You.”

Joseph picked up a long stick of straw and commenced to doodling in the dirt. “Well since you asked, I’ll tell you. First thing you need to do is talk to God. Then, you need to apologize to your parents for the way you treated them. After that, talk to your brothers, especially Thomas. They love you so and are innocent to all of this.” Content with his spiel, Joseph dropped the straw.

Empty from her cry, Rebekah couldn’t fathom an answer. She simply watched the dust motes dance their twirly dance in the bright sunrays in the barn’s door. “Can we go for a walk?”

Joseph stood, offering her a hand. “Of course. You should tell your parents we are going, though. No doubt they’re worried.”

Lacing her fingers together, Rebekah stared into them. “Perhaps you could tell them for me?”

Joseph nodded and turned toward the house. Her house. Where she’d lived, made memories, made mistakes, and been loved. Her house, where she’d delivered the newest Stoll baby, where she’d prayed, quilted, and worshipped. Fresh feelings of stabbing pain filled her chest. Eyes closed, Rebekah started toward the lake.

A moment later, Joseph caught up. It didn’t take long with his lengthy strides in comparison to her shorter, unfocused ones. “Your parents send a message. They asked me to tell you, when you’re ready to talk, they’ll be there.”

She turned her face up to him. “Thank you. I will, when I have the right words.”

Joseph nodded, no evidence of any sort of smile on his handsome face. “They also said to tell you that they love you. And that the decision to go back and live English or stay here with us is yours and yours alone. They’ll respect it, either way.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

Even if his hand had brushed hers, as it had last night, she wouldn’t have felt up to hand holding anyway. She eased herself down on the bank and hugged her knees to her chest.

Before long, the honey-like scent of the tulip tree, the one he’d carved their fishing poles from, filled the air. A couple of birds chittered back and forth in perfect singsong time, but Rebekah didn’t try to pick out what kind they were. Her heart was simply too heavy.

“Rebekah, there is something –” Joseph began. He fidgeted in his pockets, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “We were about to speak of it last night when Peter came, but I really feel I need to say it now, if you’ll let me.”

She stared out over the glistening water. A fish had jumped, sending a splashing ripple across the lake. “Okay, Joseph.” None of the enthusiasm from the previous night could be found amid her words.

His eyes burned on the exposed skin of her neck as he carefully sat down next to her. Still, she didn’t meet his stare. “I have feelings for you, Rebekah. You and only you.”

Rebekah’s heart thudded in her chest. She wanted to be excited to hear these words from the lips of the man who’d stolen her heart so long ago, but there was just too much new information to process to even allow the moment to be enjoyable. Tears pricked her eyes as Joseph proceeded to unburden his heart all of the right words at the complete wrong time.

“The more I’ve prayed about them – and about you – the stronger these feelings have grown.” Joseph stared at her, no doubt willing her to look up. She didn’t. She couldn’t. “They’ve been building for years, Rebekah.” Slowly, he placed his hand on hers.