The Rebel (13 page)

“Take it easy, Betty. It's done now, anyway. This is Reuben Lapp. He's thinking of farming around here.”

The woman smiled with none of the caution her husband had initially shown. “Well, now, isn't that nice? We could use some young families around here, what with so many young folks moving away. You sit right down, Reuben, and I'll bring you two some cold lemonade.”

“Denke,” he said, and then corrected himself. “Thank you.”

“No trouble.” She bustled into the house, only to appear
moments later with a tray bearing glasses that she must have had already set out. “There, now. You have a family, do you?”

“Just my wife, Elizabeth.”
Who doesn't want to move,
he added silently. “I'm hoping to find a farm for sale that I can afford, so we can settle here.” He glanced from one to the other. “I hope we'd be wilkom here.”

Masters shrugged. “People here are pretty much like folks everywhere—a bit wary about things they don't understand. But friendly, for the most part. Seems to me you folks could settle down happily here if you didn't mind a few bumps in the road along the way.”

“I'd guess it was that way most everyplace,” Reuben said. “We always aim to be gut neighbors.”

Masters and his wife exchanged glances, and she gave a little nod.

“Well, as it happens, maybe you did yourself as well as me a good turn today,” he said. “Betty and me know we have to sell up soon, so this place is going to be on the market. If you're interested . . . well, you'd have some time to check things out before we're ready to sell. But if it looks right to you, we'd give you first chance at it. We'd be pleased to see our place going to a young family who'd farm it the way it should be farmed.”

Reuben could only stare at them, his mind whirling. There were questions to be asked, of course. He'd have to have a lot more information before he could make a decision, but looking around, it seemed to him this place already felt like home.

He'd been asking God for a sign, and it looked as if God had answered.

He'd have to pray God would see fit to give Elizabeth a sign as well.

Lancaster County, Spring 1960

E
lizabeth
tried to concentrate on the sunflower seeds she was planting along the edge of the garden, only to discover that she'd dumped a whole handful of seeds in one place and then covered them with so much soil they'd never grow. Annoyed with herself, she removed them and started over, pulling the old rag rug she knelt on along the row.

She hadn't been able to focus on anything all day. Or at least, not on anything but missing Reuben. For the fiftieth time, she stared out the lane, willing the driver who was bringing the men back from Brook Hill to appear. But the lane remained stubbornly empty.

What would she do if they really had to be apart for an extended time? The past two nights had felt like an eternity. She'd wakened half a dozen times each night, reaching out for Reuben across the bed and feeling cold, empty sheets instead of his warm, solid body.

Elizabeth patted down the last of the seeds. Picking up a
convenient twig, she used it to pierce the seed packet, sticking it upright in the soil at the end of the row. If Mamm Alice or Becky came out to do any planting, they'd know where the row of sunflowers was planted, even before they'd sprouted.

She was finished, but she continued to kneel, her thoughts tumbling around and around like a pebble in a fast-moving stream. The warm earth and the sun on her back should be comforting, but nothing short of seeing Reuben back where he belonged could reassure her.

They'd parted with coldness between them. She hadn't meant it to be that way. She'd thought she would be able to talk to Reuben calmly, quietly, about how hurt she'd been to learn about the trip in such a way. But each time she'd tried to speak, the tears had clogged her throat. So she'd ended up saying nothing, just looking at him, feeling chilled to the bone, as he'd climbed into the car and left.

Now . . . now she'd give anything just to have him back again. What if something had happened? Panic seized her heart. What if they'd had an accident with the car and no one had known how to reach her? What if he was alone somewhere, hurt?

Stupid. Don't be stupid. Nothing has happened.
She planted her hands on the rug and pushed herself up to a standing position. Reuben would be back soon.

And then what? What if he came back all excited about what he'd seen and heard? What if he were even more determined to leave? Was it right to pray that he'd be disappointed?

Elizabeth felt drenched in shame, as if she'd been dunked in a pail of hot water. How could she even think such a thing? If Reuben came home full of plans and excitement for a move she dreaded, she had to remain calm.

She was headed for the hand pump by the back door to wash her hands when she finally heard the sound she'd been waiting for all afternoon. She looked out the lane, shading her eyes against the sun, and her heart gave a little leap. They were back at last.

Hurriedly she washed her hands, brushing them dry on her skirt. When the car pulled up, she was waiting at the edge of the lane, trying not to show what she felt.

The door opened, and Reuben slid out. He met her eyes cautiously, then turned quickly to raise a hand in farewell to the others. As the car drove off down the lane, he came to her, smiling a little.

“Did you miss me as much as I missed you, my Elizabeth?” He took her arms, pulling her against him gently.

“Even more,” she whispered, closing her arms around him, not caring who might come out of the house or barn and see them. “Don't let's ever be apart like that again. I couldn't sleep without you there.”

He held her close, and she felt the rumble of laughter in his chest. “Ach, I couldn't sleep either. But at least part of it was sharing a room with Johnny Stoltzfus. He snores.”

Laughter chased away the tears that had begun to form in her eyes. “And I thought you missed me,” she teased, loving the way his face lit with tenderness when she did.

“Reuben! You're back.” Isaac's shout had them slipping apart, but Reuben kept a warm grip on her hand as his brother came hurrying toward them. “Well, how was it? Were the prices really better than here? Was there much land for sale?”

“Ach, let him have a moment with his wife, will you?” Daad Eli came along behind Isaac, chiding him.

Isaac just clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Time enough for cuddling later. We're all eager to hear about your trip.”

“Komm in the house, then.” Mamm Alice had come out on the porch at the sound of all the ruckus. “No need to be discussing family matters out in the lane that I know of. Besides, Reuben is probably tired and hungry. He needs a chance to catch his breath.”

Reuben's eyelid flickered in a private wink just for Elizabeth. “I'm okay, but I could do with some coffee to wake me up after the drive.”

They all trooped inside, with Reuben's hand still clasping hers, hidden by the folds of her skirt. It was only when he sat down at the table that he was forced to let go. Becky began pouring coffee into mugs, while Mamm Alice cut into one of the dried apple pies they'd made this morning. Elizabeth retrieved milk and sugar and set out plates and forks.

“Well, let's have it,” Daad said, once they were settled. “What was it like?”

“Nice.” Reuben nodded, his mouth full of pie. “We all felt that way, I think. Hillier than it is here, but still plenty of arable land. The folks we talked to seemed friendly, though I don't doubt that there would be some who wouldn't like the idea of a bunch of Amish moving in.”

Concern crossed Mamm Alice's face, and she reached across the table to pat his hand. “I wouldn't want you settling where people were against the Amish without even knowing you.”

“Nonsense,” Daad Eli said quickly. “We're just spoiled because we've been here for so long that everyone is used to us. People are the same no matter where you go. Sounds like they probably just need to get used to the Amish, like the Englisch did when the Leit came here back in the 1700s.”

Elizabeth's heart got heavier with every word that was spoken. How could Reuben think of taking her to a place where the neighbors not only weren't kin, they actually bore malice toward the Amish?

“I saw one farm,” Reuben began, sending a cautious look in her direction. “Well, I wasn't really intending to look at it. Didn't even know it was for sale. But I saw the owner struggling with a pasture gate that had to be fixed, so I stopped to give him a hand.”

Daad Eli's gray eyebrows lifted. “What about the other boys?”

“We were supposed to meet a real estate person who was showing us a farm,” Reuben explained. “So I told them to go on and then they could pick me up on the way back. Didn't seem as if all of us needed to be there. So anyway I gave the man a hand, and then he wanted me to come up to the house and meet his wife. She gave me lemonade and sugar cookies, and we talked.”

“Sounds like nice, hospitable folks,” Mamm Alice said, maybe making up for her earlier comment.

Elizabeth just stiffened, her hands clasping the sides of the chair seat tightly.

“They were.” Reuben looked at her with caution. “And it turned out they were actually looking for a buyer for their property. Ach, you should see it, Daad.” His enthusiasm seemed to sweep him on. “Plenty of room for a dairy herd, and a substantial barn in good shape. Twin silos, a chicken coop, and the like. It's over a hundred acres, and he's asking half what they asked for the last farm that sold here.”

“You'd need a tie barn for milking,” Daad Eli observed. “Otherwise it sounds wonderful good.”

“Ja.” Reuben looked down at his hands, maybe because he didn't want to look at Elizabeth. “There's questions to be answered, that's certain-sure, but this fellow, Mr. Masters, said that he wasn't in any hurry. He won't sell to anyone else without checking with me first.”

“Mighty generous of him.” Daad Eli looked cautious. “You'll want to check things out careful-like.”

“I know. But still—”

Reuben caught back his words as Elizabeth jumped to her feet. They all looked at her. She knew she was making a fool of herself, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't sit here any longer and listen to Reuben making plans for their future without even consulting her.

“I . . . I forgot something in the garden,” she stammered, and rushed out of the kitchen.

She'd reached the shade of the big willow tree before her headlong rush stopped. She stood there, hands pressed against the rough bark, grateful for the sweeping branches that shielded her from view like leafy curtains.

How could he talk to his family first? They were his family, ja, but this was something to be decided between husband and wife. It wasn't the family's future Reuben was talking about. It was hers.

Elizabeth sucked in a deep breath, reminding herself that she'd vowed to be calm. To explain quietly, reasonably, what she wanted. Surely she could, and he'd listen—

She'd gotten that far in her reasoning when the green curtains parted and Reuben came into the still, cavelike space beneath the tree.

“Elizabeth? Are you all right?”

She pressed her lips together for a moment, but it was no
use. “You talk as if it's all settled. How could you discuss our future like that in front of everyone?”

He didn't speak for a moment, and she sensed that he, too, was struggling to be calm and reasonable. “I didn't mean to, but when everyone started asking me questions, I had to answer, didn't I?”

Elizabeth put her hand to her throat, as if that would ease the tightness there. “You could have said we needed to talk about it first.”

“Well, and so we do need to talk about it. I told you I'd take time in making a decision, and I will.” The familiar note of exasperation crept into his voice. “But I can't keep it a secret that I saw a place that . . .” He caught her arm, turning her to face him. “Listen, Elizabeth. If you saw it, you'd see what I did. A good farm, just right for us. A place that feels like home—”

“This is home.” The words burst out of her.

His jaw tightened. “I've already explained that we can't stay here. This will be Isaac's place, not ours.”

“I know that, but—”

“But you won't be happy unless I produce a home for us close to your family.” He snapped the words. “Well, I can't.”

“You promised you'd try.” Her own control shattered into pieces. “You said you would, but now all you can think about is that farm miles and miles away from anything we know.”

“Well, you promised you'd listen. You'd try to understand. But you're not. You're just hanging on to the past.”

“I can't do what you want. I can't.” She heard herself growing shrill, but she couldn't seem to stop it. “My life is here, my family is here. Our son is buried here.”

Reuben jerked back as if she'd slapped him. He stared at
her, his face working. Then he turned and plunged away from her.

Elizabeth's breath caught. The pain in her chest was so fierce it was like trying to bring a new life into the world all over again.

She couldn't get her breath. She pressed her palm against her chest, feeling the thudding of her own heart. How could it still be beating when it was broken?

New life. Her breath stuck on a sob. That was what Reuben wanted. And she . . . she was tearing their present life apart with her resistance.

What were they doing to each other? They'd been so happy together. Now it seemed that happiness was gone forever.

Why? Reuben had never really asked the question. She hadn't even asked it of herself. Why couldn't she consent to this move?

An image of that small grave, just like all the others in the Amish cemetery, forced itself into her mind. That was part of it.

But the rest? She struggled to face it. She was afraid. And the fear was so big, so strong, that she didn't think she could possibly overcome it. But she might have to if she didn't want to lose Reuben.

•   •   •

Barbie
stood on the sidelines and watched the heated volleyball game in progress late Sunday afternoon. She was supposed to be the referee, but that didn't seem to stop the good-natured arguments over calls. Each side was made up of the same number of boys and girls, and they were equally competitive. So far she'd treated one black eye, a nosebleed, and a twisted ankle. Amish youth volleyball wasn't for the faint of heart.

The ball came rocketing toward her, out-of-bounds, and she reacted without thought, smacking it back across the net to the far side. Naturally the kids took that for a sign that she was ready to play and hit it right back toward her.

She lofted it back. “Thought you'd catch me off-guard, didn't you? No chance!”

“Bet you can't get this one, Barbie,” one of her cousins yelled, sending the ball soaring in her direction.

Grinning, she raised her hands to return it when someone reached over her head and hit it for her.

“Hey, no fair. That was mine,” she said, looking up at Ben.

His eyes laughing, Ben took the next shot easily, not giving her a chance. “I can't help it if you're too short to reach.”

He really was attractive when his face eased and the laughter filled his eyes. He should look that way more often.

“I'll show you who's short,” she said. “Just let me have the next one.”

Nodding, Ben took a step back, but when the ball came toward them again he feinted a move, putting her off balance, so that it fell between them.

“Your fault.” She gave him a mock glare, making the kids laugh. She bent to retrieve the volleyball just as Ben did, and their heads collided.

He grasped her arm instantly. “Are you okay?”

“I think this game is too dangerous for us,” she said, laughing. For an instant they stood close together. Their gazes entangled, and Barbie's breath caught.