The Rebel (11 page)

At least, God willing, maybe they wouldn't be far away. Elizabeth said a silent prayer that Reuben's work on the zoning issue would show him that this was the right place for them. If only it could be so.
Please,
she added. Surely it wasn't wrong to petition the Lord for something she wanted so desperately.

The sun was peeking over the distant line of trees when
Elizabeth spotted the men moving toward the house. “They're coming.”

She began moving slices of crisp fried pon hoss and bacon to a plate, both of them made right here on the farm after the last hog butchering. She'd rather eat bacon herself, but Reuben loved his mamm's pon hoss, and Elizabeth had copied out her recipe for the cornmeal and pork mixture, thinking one day she'd be the one making it.

The men came in, washing up at the sink just inside the back door. By the time they sat down, the food was on the table and Elizabeth was pouring their coffee.

Elizabeth slid into her chair at the long table and bowed her head for the silent prayer that preceded every meal. In a few minutes, Daad Eli had started the platters around the table and Reuben was pouring cream onto his oatmeal.

“So, the way it's warming up, I'm thinking we can risk planting corn in the lower field this week,” Daad Eli spoke between mouthfuls of scrambled eggs. “What do you say, boys? Maybe Thursday, if the weather is right?”

Isaac nodded, but Reuben seemed to hesitate. He glanced at her, then looked away.

“I'm not sure I can do it Thursday, Daad. Would Friday be okay?”

Elizabeth watched Reuben's face, but he'd averted it. Why was he acting so strange? Surely one day or the other wouldn't matter to him.

“I guess,” Daad Eli said, frowning. “What's wrong with Thursday?”

Again that hesitation came, and Elizabeth found she was holding her breath. Why didn't Reuben speak?

“That day I'm going with Johnny Stoltzfus and the others to look at land up in the valleys north of Harrisburg. Brook Hill, the place is called. It . . .” His words petered out as he realized everyone was staring at him.

Daad Eli cleared his throat. “Think maybe I've heard some talk of it. It's best you see for yourself, ain't so?”

“Is it really necessary?” Mamm Alice asked, her tone sharp. “You don't need to be in a hurry about moving.”

“Reuben is able to decide things without help from us.” Daad Eli stared at his wife, and her gaze lowered.

There was an awkward silence. Elizabeth felt as if everyone waited for her to speak, but she couldn't. How could she get any words out?

He hadn't told her. Reuben had made these plans, and he hadn't said a word to her about it. Last night she'd thought—

Well, what she'd thought didn't matter, did it? Reuben had decided without her, and the chasm between them was wider and deeper than ever.

•   •   •

“
Have
fun.” Ashlee waved as Barbie slipped out the back door at the end of her shift.

Barbie took a deep breath and tried to quell the butterflies that seemed to be dancing in her stomach. It was all very well for Ashlee to talk. She didn't seem to have doubts about anything.

Terry's car was pulled up at the side of the café, near where her buggy was parked. Her mare, Belle, spotted her and came to the gate of the small yard behind the café where Walt let Barbie keep the mare during her shift. Belle assumed they were going home, of course.

“You're really here.” Terry leaned a jeans-clad hip against the car door, his eyes crinkling at the sight of her. “I was afraid you'd have changed your mind by now.”

“Would I do that to you?” She smiled up at him, relishing the frank approval in his face. At least Terry didn't judge people, like some she could name.

“Well, I don't know.” He pretended to be in doubt. “You might have had a better offer since then. After all, the café's a busy place.”

“Lots of truckers taking a break, talking on their cell phones to their wives. And the usual number of older men, solving the world's problems over their coffee.”

He grinned, rounding the car to open the passenger door for her. “You've got to watch those truckers. Some of them forget themselves when there's a pretty girl around.”

“How about electric company workers?” she teased. “Don't they?”

“Sometimes.” His easy grin deepened, and he gestured to the front seat. “Ready?”

“I guess.” She took one step, glancing down the alley as she did, and gasped. Without taking time to think, she slid back, behind the steps that came out from the kitchen.

“Barbie?” Terry stared blankly for an instant and then followed the direction of her gaze.

An Amish buggy had stopped at the entrance to the alley, and the couple inside were staring at his car, pulled up beside the buggy.

He caught on quickly. Stretching a little, he reached into the door pocket of the passenger side, pulled out a map, and
spread it out, making a pretense of studying it, carefully not looking toward Barbie.

She held her breath. John and Miriam Fisher—it would have to be them. Miriam was the worst blabbermaul in the county, and if she'd spotted Barbie getting into Terry's car, it would be all over the church before she could blink.

The map hid Terry's face from her. What was he thinking? She stayed frozen, afraid to move. Maybe, if she went toward the mare . . .

The map flopped down. “It's okay. They're gone.”

She peered cautiously around the corner of the steps. The alley was empty except for them, and only cars moved past the entrance.

“I'm sorry.” Her cheeks were probably scarlet. “I guess I acted ferhoodled.” The Amish word said it best.

“Fer-what?” Terry grinned.

“Ferhoodled. It means crazy, mixed up, that kind of thing.”

“Well, I wouldn't say you were ferhoodled.” He took a cautious glance around. Seeing no one, he took her hands in his. “Just cautious. Maybe worried about hurting someone?”

His empathy startled her.

“My parents.” How to explain to him what it was like? “They would be very hurt if everyone in the community was talking about their daughter.”

“So you don't want to hurt them, but you want to make new friends. They might like me if they got to know me.” It was said lightheartedly, but he let go of her hands.

Poor Terry. That just showed how little he understood about how an Amish mother's mind worked. To Mamm, dating led to marriage and family. And that would terrify Terry, she
suspected, just as much as it would Mamm to discover her child was dating an Englischer.

“You're very likable,” she said. “They would like you. But not as someone to date their daughter.”

Terry turned away, accepting it. Then he swung back again. “Hey, why are we giving up so easily? We know we don't mean any harm, right?”

“Sure, but—”

“Look, we weren't too smart trying to get together here, where anybody might see us. But what about the night you came to the bar? When you were in Englisch clothes, nobody looked twice. I mean, except the way guys look at any pretty girl.”

“Still, it didn't work out all that well.” Not with having to rescue a foolish Mary and getting into trouble with Benuel.

“That was just bad luck,” he said quickly. “I like you, Barbie. I just want to spend a little time with you. Ashlee would help out, wouldn't she?”

Barbie's lips quirked. “Ashlee would love it.” Her spirits rose. Why not?

“We could go to dinner someplace away from Brook Hill. There's a new Chinese place over toward Harrisburg. What do you say?”

A good Amish girl would say no. “I'll talk to Ashlee.”

“Great.” Terry beamed, obviously taking that for a yes. “I'll stop by the café to see what you've worked out. See you.”

“See you,” she echoed, and watched as he slid into his car and backed out.

All the rules she'd been raised by told her she was doing the wrong thing, but rebellion actually felt good to her. Why shouldn't she make up her own mind? She wasn't a child any longer.

O
h
,
my.” Rebecca paused in the process of describing the incoming farm-stay guests to Barbie and Mary the next afternoon. She pressed her fingers to her lips, her face losing its color.

“You're not well,” Barbie said quickly, going to put an arm around her cousin. “Why didn't you say something?”

Rebecca managed a wan smile. “I was hoping to overcome it. With guests coming in an hour—” She broke off, a panicked look on her face.

“Just relax,” Barbie soothed. “It's fine. Mary and I will take care of everything, won't we, Mary?”

Mary looked nearly as alarmed as Rebecca, but she nodded.

“Komm.” Barbie guided her cousin toward the stairs. “You'll lie down until you feel better. We'll take care of the guests.”

Once upstairs, Rebecca sank gratefully onto her bed, pressing her head into the pillow.

“You'll be fine.” Barbie slipped Rebecca's shoes off and pulled the quit over her. “What can I get you?”

“Nothing. Well, maybe some salty crackers would help.” Rebecca seemed to relax a little. “I don't know why they call it morning sickness, when it comes on all day.”

“It'll pass soon.” She'd heard enough about pregnancies from her girlfriends to know that much. “Just rest. We'll check the guest rooms and get supper started.”

Her cousin nodded, obviously too nauseated to argue. “Matt and the kinder should be home around five. He can take over if I'm not up by then.”

“I've dealt with guests enough to know what to do, and Mary's a big help.” Of course Mary had yet to be confronted with actual guests, but in theory, she knew what to do. “You try to sleep.” Giving her cousin a light pat, she tiptoed out of the room.

Barbie hurried downstairs, mentally running through the checklist of things to be done before guests arrived. Fortunately, most of it was done. Unfortunately, the two couples they expected had booked supper, so she'd have to cope with it.

“Is she all right?” Mary still looked upset when Barbie reached the kitchen.

Barbie nodded. “She'll be fine, but we'll have to cope for now. Why don't you go and check the guestrooms while I start getting things ready for supper?”

Mary nodded. “Are you sure Rebecca doesn't need the doctor?”

She grinned. “It's nothing that nine months won't cure.” She wouldn't normally talk about it to someone outside the family, but since Mary was working here, she'd have to know.

“Oh.” Mary looked gratified at being addressed like one of the adult women. “She and Matt must be happy, ain't so?”

Barbie nodded, smiling when she thought of the way Matt
looked at Rebecca these days. She was happy for her cousin. Of course she was. But she couldn't help a tiny pinch of envy. Would anyone ever look at her that way?

By the time Barbie had glanced over the supper plans and begun to organize the meal, she heard the sound of a car in the lane. She glanced at the clock. The guests had arrived earlier than expected, but no matter. At least the Shepards and the Walkers had been here before. They knew the routine and wouldn't expect things that weren't available, like the one guest who'd demanded a high-speed internet connection and left when told that was impossible.

Barbie wiped her hands on a tea towel as she headed for the door. They'd learned a lot last year, but there would probably still be surprises.

“Mary,” she called up the stairs. “They're here.”

She heard a gasp from Mary, then rapid footsteps as the girl started down. In another moment they were both on the porch, ready to welcome their guests.

The two couples greeted Barbie like an old friend, the women giving her warm hugs. She introduced Mary, glad that the girl's first exposure to guests would be with people so easy to please.

“Do we have the same rooms as last time?” Mrs. Shepard, small, round, and smiling, a little dumpling of a woman who always wore dangling jewelry, embraced her with much jingling of necklace and bracelets.

“Ja, just the same. Mary will . . .” She started to say get the bags, but decided showing the women upstairs was the easier task than arguing pleasantly with the husbands about who would carry the bags. “Mary will show you up to the rooms.” She gave the girl a reassuring smile.

Mary swallowed hard and then gestured to the stairs. Tiny Mrs. Shepard and tall, angular Mrs. Walker, her bright scarf fluttering over a cinnamon-colored blouse, followed her.

Barbie headed outside to tease the husbands into letting her carry the suitcases. She could handle the visitors herself if she had to, and with Mary's help, it would be a snap.

Luckily the two couples had already decided to run down to a craft store they remembered from their previous visit. They left as soon as they were settled, the women chatting about what they intended to buy on this trip.

Their quick departure made it easier to get on with supper. Barbie was checking the pot roast when Mary hurried into the kitchen to help.

“I looked in on Rebecca, but she was sleeping, so I didn't bother her. Shall I start the potatoes?”

Barbie nodded, thankful for someone who knew her way around the kitchen. Some of the younger servers at the café didn't seem to know one end of a spatula from the other.

“So.” Barbie glanced at Mary as they stood side by side at the sink preparing vegetables. “What do you think of our visitors?”

Mary shrugged. “They seem nice. The ladies have pretty clothes, don't they?”

“Colorful, anyway.” Barbie suppressed a smile. Amish teen girls were just as fascinated by clothes as any other teenagers. Treading cautiously, she skirted the subject of that night at the bar. “Is that what draws you to the Englisch way?”

Mary shrugged again—typical teenage answer. “Well, it's more interesting than this.” She nodded to her burgundy dress and matching apron. “I hate it. I don't see why I can't wear
something nice.” She frowned. “Or why I should wait on people who have what I want.” Her small face set in that sullen look that seemed to drive Benuel to saying all the wrong things.

Barbie wasn't going to make the same mistake. She shrugged as if it didn't matter. “We all have to work for what we want. It's best to make the work fun when we can, ain't so?”

Mary didn't respond for a time. Then she glanced at Barbie. “You always look pretty anyway, even in the same clothes as everyone else. How do you do it?”

If the way to Mary's heart was through clothes, that would be easy.

“Color,” she said simply. “We're stuck with the style, ain't so? But that doesn't mean we can't make our dresses in colors that are becoming to us.”

Mary mulled that over. “So this.” She held out a fold of her skirt. “Does it look nice on me?”

No point in trying to fool her. “Not really. See, you have light, warm skin tones, like me. So we look best in light, warm colors. You just have to try different shades next to your face to see which looks best.” She smiled. “You should see me when I go to the fabric store. I look at every piece before I decide what I'm going to buy.”

“Sarah gave me this material.” Mary glared at the despised dress.

“Well, sure. This is a nice color on her. She probably didn't even realize that it might make you look washed out.” She hadn't expected to be defending Sarah, but she had to admit that Sarah always meant well.

“You think that's so?”

“Of course.” She hesitated. “Tell you what. Suppose we
arrange a trip to the fabric store together. It's always easier with someone else to look at the colors. I'll help you pick out some dress material, okay?”

Mary brightened. “That would be wonderful gut.”

To Barbie's relief, that simple offer seemed to brighten Mary's mood. She helped more or less cheerfully right through supper and the clean-up.

By the time Matt and the kinder returned, Rebecca was feeling better. Barbie and Mary were finally able to head for home, nearly two hours later than they'd expected.

Barbie glanced at Mary as they rolled down the road toward home. “I hope your daad won't be worried at me bringing you back so late.” She clucked to Belle, and the mare obligingly picked up her pace.

Mary shrugged, as usual. But at least her mouth didn't sag into that sullen expression. “I said I didn't know what time we'd get home. Daad said to stay as long as I was needed.” She paused. “I was needed, wasn't I?” There was a hint of longing in her voice that Barbie didn't miss.

“You were definitely needed,” she responded. “Poor Rebecca. If you hadn't been there, she'd have insisted on helping. And it wouldn't make the guests feel wilkom to have her being sick, ain't so?”

Mary nodded, looking pleased and amused at the same time. “Did you mean it?” she asked. “When you said you'd help me pick out material for a dress?”

“Sure I did. We'll get a driver to take us one day soon . . . maybe next week. Can you get someone to watch Ben's kinder?”

“I suppose Sarah will.” She sounded reluctant to ask. “Or if they're not busy in the buggy shop, Daad and Ben can take over.”

“There you go, then.”

Mary shot her a look. “You sound Englisch when you say that.”

“I guess I picked it up at the café.” It wasn't the only thing she'd picked up at the café.

“Or at the bar?” Mary had the air of daring her, and she suspected she knew why.

“I was at the bar that night, but that was the only time.” She returned the look. “What about you?”

Mary's face set for a moment, but then she seemed to accept the fact the she'd asked first. “My first time, too.” Her eyes flared with defiance. “It wasn't all that bad.”

Barbie knew she had to answer, and she wasn't ready. Why had Moses ever thought she was the right person to guide his daughter? She couldn't even guide herself. Well, all she could do was be honest with the girl.

“Judging by the way those boys were groping you, it would have been bad if someone hadn't interrupted.”

Mary looked as if she'd like to retort, but she didn't. Maybe she was honest enough to recognize the truth of Barbie's words. If so, that was a good first step.

They went the rest of the way in silence, but it was a companionable one. They pulled up at the back door, and Mary slid down.

She paused a moment, her hand on the seat. “Denke, Barbie. I . . .”

The back door burst open, and Sarah surged onto the porch. “It's about time you're getting here. Daad was took bad with pain in his chest, and you not here to take care of him.”

Barbie could read the fear and worry behind the sharp words, but probably Mary didn't.

“Where is he? How bad is it?” She asked the questions
before Mary could burst out. Obviously she couldn't just turn around and go home.

“Ben took him to the Urgent Care center,” Sarah said. “He was in pain and short of breath. I had to come and stay with Ben's kinder.”

“I pray God is with him,” Barbie said softly. “I'm glad you were able to be here.”

“Well, of course,” Sarah said. “But I must get home.” She turned to Mary. “You'll have to take over Abram and Libby. They've had their supper.”

“But what about Daadi?” Mary's voice shook a little.

“We must wait to hear from Ben.” Sarah turned toward the barn. “He said he'd try to call, but I've been too busy with the kinder to check.”

Mary didn't wait for the end of that sentence. She darted toward the phone shanty.

Sarah looked after her. “I suppose I'll have to stay. Mary's too flighty to be left.”

Barbie bit her tongue to keep from a retort that wouldn't help. Over Sarah's shoulder, she saw Mary come out of the shanty, her shoulders sagging. Clearly there hadn't been any news.

“I'll stay,” she said firmly. “There is no point in us both being here. You go on home.”

Sarah eyed her as if she'd said something offensive. “I'm Mary's sister. It's up to me.”

Well, this was a good chance to live up to her words to Mary about not making things worse. “Ja, of course it's up to you. But my parents won't be worried, since they knew I was working at Rebecca's. And you have the responsibility for your kinder as well.”

Sarah hesitated, torn for some reason Barbie didn't
understand. “All right. But you don't leave until Ben gets back. And tell him to call me right away.”

Still intent on keeping the peace, Barbie nodded and refrained from pointing out that Sarah didn't have to give her orders. She'd stay because of Mary and the kinder, not Sarah.

•   •   •

Ben
glanced at his father as the driver he'd called turned into the lane toward home. Daad hadn't quite regained his usual color, but he was breathing easily now. “Feeling okay?” he ventured.

“I'm fine.” Daad's tone was short. “Stress—what kind of a word is that to use?”

At least his impatience seemed to be with the medical personnel, not with Benuel, who'd insisted he see the doctor.

“I don't like people fussing over me,” he added.

Ben's gaze met that of Clara Nicholls, the Englisch neighbor who loved serving as an unofficial taxi for her Amish neighbors. Clara gave a slight shrug, probably indicating the hopelessness of arguing with a stubborn male about his health.

“I won't fuss, Daad, but I can't say the same for Mary and Sarah, so you'd better be prepared for them.” But as Clara pulled up to the back door, he realized that wasn't Sarah's buggy parked by the lane.

Frowning, he slid out, forcing himself not to offer a helping hand he knew would be resented.

Clara leaned across the seat. “You listen to the family and take it easy, Moses. We're none of us as young as we used to be.”