The Rebel (18 page)

“At least we can look. What was his full name?”

“James Frederick Lapp,” she said. “But I'm not sure—”

Ashlee was already typing the name. “At least we can try. He might pop up at the first shot.” Her fingers moved on the keys.

“Don't.” Barbie grabbed her hands, making Ashlee stare at her. “Please. I appreciate it, but I'd have to think about it first. Okay?”

Ashlee paused, her eyes narrowed. Then she shrugged. “Okay. Have it your way.” Her head came up. “I hear a car. Maybe it's Terry.”

It was Terry. He tap-tapped at the door a moment or two later. When Barbie opened it, he stood for a moment, his eyes widening with admiration. He gave a low whistle.

“You look great. Ashlee's clothes suit you.”

The obvious pleasure in his face gave her a lift that almost canceled out any apprehension.

“Thanks.” She tugged at the bottom of the aqua top. “Ashlee's very generous.”

“That's me.” Ashlee set the computer aside and came toward them. “Have a good time, you two.”

“We will,” Terry said. He clasped Barbie's hand. “Let's go. And don't get worried. No one you know is going to see you.”

“You can't be sure of that, can you?” She kept the words light. “We'll take the risk, though.”

“Way to go.” He held the door of the car while she slid into the seat. “If I see a buggy coming, you can crouch down until they've passed us.”

“That's a deal.”
Keep it light,
she reminded herself.
And don't start feeling guilty again.

That had been easy enough when she was seventeen and slipped out for an unsanctioned party. At her age now, she ought to be beyond it.

Terry had pulled his car into the driveway between Ashlee's building and the one next to it. He glanced in both directions and then leaned toward her.

“Alone at last.” He said the words as if it were a joke she should recognize, so she smiled. “Now I can do something I've wanted to do since the first time I saw you.”

He tilted her face toward his and kissed her.

Terry's kiss was pleasant. Enjoyable. And flattering to think that he'd been longing for this moment. It was nothing like Ben's kiss had been. It stirred up no unwelcome turmoil.

Terry drew back a little, smiling, and two things occurred to Barbie almost simultaneously. One was the troubling thought that Terry might soon expect more from her than she wanted to give. And the other was the fear that she had only said yes to Terry as a reaction to Ben.

•   •   •

After
a couple of days had passed, Barbie's unease had largely disappeared. She and Terry had had a great evening together. She'd enjoyed the restaurant, and they'd both laughed as they'd tried to eat their food with chopsticks before giving up and using a fork. He'd kissed her good night at the door but hadn't pressed to come in. Maybe he was sensitive enough to realize that going out with him was a daring step for her.

Ashlee moved around her to the coffeepot. The lunch rush
was over, with only a few stragglers left lingering over their coffee. Jean waved, already heading out the door, eager to get home to her grandchildren.

Ashlee nudged her. “You daydreaming about Terry?”

Barbie shook her head. “Just thinking I'll be able to leave soon.” She was off after the lunch shift today, but she'd have a longer workday tomorrow.

“Why aren't you thinking about Terry?” she persisted. “Did you fight? Is that why he hasn't been around?”

“You're giving me too much credit. He hasn't been around because he was sent out to do storm damage repair in New Jersey.”

She eyed Ashlee, wondering what kind of response she'd get to the question she had to ask. With Ashlee it was hard to tell.

“By the way, my mother wants me to invite you to have supper with us. Any night is fine. Just name it.”

Ashlee turned, a mug of coffee in each hand. “Nice of your mom. What about you? Do you want me to come?”

There was something a little challenging in her question that startled Barbie. Well, maybe she had been thinking that it would be easier to keep her friendship with Ashlee and her relationship with her family separate. She pressed down her slight apprehension.

“For sure I want you to come. My mamm is a good cook. I promise you'll enjoy it.” She hoped her words rang true.

Apparently they did, because Ashlee smiled and nodded. “Sounds great. I could use a home-cooked meal. How about tomorrow? I could drive you home after work.”

She nodded. Would it be possible to suggest to Ashlee that she dress a little more modestly than usual? Probably not without hurting her feelings.

“Good. We'll plan on it.”

It would be all right, wouldn't it? Ashlee understood that her parents couldn't know about her dating Terry. She'd be careful what she said.

The assurances didn't entirely allay her fears. Ashlee wouldn't understand how self-contained the Amish world was. Everyone knew everyone, and often everything about them.

The Englisch seemed able to inhabit different worlds if they wanted to—different groups of friends at work, school, play, and home. It wasn't so for the Amish. The people you worked with were the same ones you saw on Saturday and Sunday, and more than likely were related to you.

Her only taste of the Englisch way was her work at the café, and even there, she couldn't be entirely separate from the Leit. That was why she couldn't avoid Benuel, no matter how uncomfortable the aftermath of their kiss.

The phone by the register rang, and Ashlee moved to answer it. After a moment, she gestured to Barbie.

“She says she's your cousin,” Ashlee said, handing her the receiver.

“Rebecca?” Rebecca was the only cousin she could imagine calling her.

“I'm sorry to phone you at work.” Rebecca sounded a bit flustered. “I just heard from the family that was supposed to come in this weekend. They're going to be here tomorrow instead.”

Barbie ran through her work schedule mentally. “I'm supposed to work—”

“Ach, no, I wasn't saying you should come. I just thought you could stop on your way home and ask Mary to do it.”

There was silence on the line for a moment. But of course she couldn't say no, even if it meant running into Ben again. “Ja, sure I will. I'm leaving soon.”

Maybe he wouldn't be there. Maybe he'd be busy in the shop. She could hurry in, give Mary the message, and be on her way.

Barbie was still telling herself that an hour later when she turned into the Kauffmann lane. As she neared the house, she knew she'd been kidding herself. Mary was nowhere in sight, but Ben was in the yard behind the house with the two kinder and the half-grown puppy.

The pup was the first to notice her arrival. He came rushing toward her buggy horse, yipping loudly. Belle, unmoved, took her place at the hitching rail and lowered her head to scrutinize the pup. He backed up, whined, and abruptly raced back to Abram.

Ben chuckled, bending to ruffle the pup's ears. “She scared you, ja?” His laughing eyes met Barbie's. “Wilkom, Barbie. What brings you by?”

She slid down, reminding herself to act natural—as naturally as he did. “A message for Mary from my cousin Rebecca. Is Mary here?”

He shook his head. “She went with Daad to pick up a package of parts at the post office. He kept insisting he would go alone, so she had to make up an errand to go with him.”

She nodded, understanding the subterfuge that was sometimes needed to save a person's feelings. “Your daad isn't one who wants to be fussed over, ja?”

“That's certain-sure.”

By this time Abram and Libby had reached her, both
tugging on her skirt for attention at the same time. Laughing, she knelt to greet them.

“Abram, your puppy is growing as fast as you are, I think.”

“Faster.” His face puckered a little. “Why does he grow faster, Barbie? I want to get big, too.”

“You'll always be bigger than he is,” she assured him.

Libby held out a chubby pink palm. “Owie,” she declared. “Barbie kiss it.”

Barbie solemnly planted a kiss on the soft, warm skin. “All better, ja?”

“Ja,” Libby said, dimpling.

“Show Barbie how the puppy likes to chase you two,” Ben suggested. “She wants to watch.”

“Shep, komm.” Abram clapped his hands and darted across the yard, the pup in pursuit. Chortling, Libby trotted after them.

“That will keep them busy for a minute or two,” Ben said. “You want me to tell Mary something for you?”

“Denke, that would be fine.” This was getting easier. Given a little more time, she'd be able to look at Ben without feeling his lips on hers. “Rebecca's weekend guests are coming in early. She hoped Mary could come in to work tomorrow to help get ready, since I'm tied up at the café.”

“I don't see why not. I'll tell her.” He hesitated, and she imagined she read something that might be embarrassment in his eyes. “I wanted to say that I took your advice.”

She found she was looking at him blankly, thinking only of how the sunlight brought out the gold flecks in his eyes. “My advice?”

“Getting a woman to help out with the house and the kinder.”

“Oh, ja. That's grand.”

He nodded, still with that trace of embarrassment. “I think it's going to work out fine. She can come most days for several hours, and that way Mary doesn't have to feel it's all on her.”

“Fine. Who did you get?” She'd know whoever it was. She knew everyone who was close enough for the job.

“It's . . . um, Linda Esch.”

Linda Esch. Barbie had been picturing an elderly, grandmotherly figure who'd tell stories to the kinder and make them cookies. Not that Linda couldn't do those things. She'd probably do them very well, and besides that, she was young, pretty, and had been a widow for a bit over a year.

“That . . . that's very nice,” she managed. “Linda would be perfect for the job.”

Perfect for Ben, too. Just the kind of woman a young minister should have for a wife, around thirty, widowed, childless. Also sensible, modest, and with a spotless reputation. Perfect.

“She doesn't have to be perfect,” Ben pointed out. “I'm just hiring her, not marrying her.”

Barbie's head jerked up. “I didn't—”

The puppy, with Abram racing after him, charged between them. Trying to avoid them, Barbie stepped aside, stumbling a little.

Ben grabbed her arms, steadying her. His hands were warm and strong, and the impact of his touch ricocheted along her skin, traveling straight to her heart.

Barbie's breath caught, and she struggled to hide the rush of feelings. No, it seemed she wasn't back to normal where Ben was concerned. Not in the least.

Lancaster County, Spring 1960

W
e're
hoping to have you and Elizabeth with us, but the rest of us have decided. We're moving to Brook Hill by fall.”

Johnny Stoltzfus's words didn't come as any surprise to Reuben, but they pointed even more sharply to his own state of indecision. He rested an elbow on the mailbox at the end of his lane, where Johnny had caught up with him.

“Gut,” he said firmly. “I'm wonderful glad you all found the places you wanted there.”

Johnny's lean face was split by his grin. “I'm like a kid on his birthday about it, that's certain-sure. The others feel the same. It's a whole new beginning for us.” He hesitated, his face sobering. “What about you?”

Reuben blew out a deep breath. “I wish I had a definite answer for you. Soon. I'll know soon.”

“Ja, I understand. My wife's none too keen on leaving her kin, either, but she's so busy with the kinder . . .” Again he
paused, awkwardly this time. “Well, that makes it different, ain't so?”

Did it? Reuben wasn't sure. If they already had the kinder they longed for, would that make it easier for Elizabeth to agree to the move? Or would it be just another reason to stay? But he nodded, since he certain-sure wasn't going to talk about it with Johnny.

“You'll let us know.” Johnny spoke when the silence had lasted too long. “Five families would be better than four to form a new church district, but either way, we're going.” He clapped Reuben's shoulder. “We hope you'll be with us.”

Reuben nodded, stepping back out of the way of Johnny's buggy. “I'll be talking to you soon.”

He raised his hand and then stood watching as Johnny's buggy moved off down the road. He'd talk to him soon, ja. But what would he have to say? Everyone, it seemed, wanted a decision from him.

Glancing at the envelope he still held in his hand, he started back down the lane toward the house. He'd hoped to hear about the farm he'd visited in Brook Hill. He just hadn't expected the elderly couple would make their decision so quickly.

He glanced down at a few lines of the letter.

My wife says you should show your wife these pictures of the house. She says a young woman is sure to be more interested in the farmhouse she'd be moving into than the barn and the pigsty.

The woman was probably right about it. They'd be taking out the electric and phone, but even so, Elizabeth should be pleased with the farmhouse's fine big kitchen and four
bedrooms. That's if she was capable of feeling pleased about any place that wasn't right here in Lancaster County.

He'd already memorized the letter's ending.

We don't want to rush your decision, but we'd like to be out by the end of the summer. So if you can let me know by the end of the month, we'll hold it until then for you.

Folding the letter around the photographs, Reuben stuffed them back into the envelope. No one else must see this before Elizabeth did, no matter how much he longed to share his news. She'd already been upset enough by the fact that he'd broken the news about the farm in front of everyone. He couldn't make that mistake again.

He just hoped he'd be able to get Elizabeth alone quickly, because otherwise he was going to burst with his news.

This farm was the right choice for them—he was convinced of it. She must see it.

And if she didn't, what then? His stomach twisted into knots. He loved Elizabeth with all his heart. Could he bear to hurt her by insisting on this move?

As he neared the house, he spotted her in the rhubarb bed again, pulling the largest stalks, removing the leaf from each, and dropping the stalks into her basket. She moved gracefully, bending to the task, her green dress seeming to blend into the foliage. Absorbed in the task, she didn't notice him approaching.

“Rhubarb sauce for supper?” he asked. “Or will it be a pie?”

She glanced up, her gentle smile warming her face. “A pie this time, I think. In another week, there should be enough to start canning it.”

“Gut.” He paused, trying to find the words and failing. “How was your grossmammi today?”

“Fussing over us like always. You know how she loves having us girls over.” She straightened, staring down at the basket she held. “Did you know that Isaac and Becky are going to have a little one?”

“I . . . Isaac just mentioned it to me yesterday.” And already he was in the wrong. He hadn't told her. What would she think?

“Why didn't you tell me?” Her face tightened. “You should have told me so I wouldn't hear it first from someone else. Didn't you consider me at all?”

The unfairness of the accusation stung him. “You know I do, Elizabeth. Can you really blame me for not wanting to tell you? I knew you'd take it hard, and I didn't want to hurt you.”

Her gaze fell. “I . . . I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did. I just . . . I want to be happy for them, but all I can think is how much I wish we were the ones. I know it's selfish.”

Reuben's heart wrenched. He took the basket from her and set it on the ground so he could clasp her hands. “I know. And it's not selfish to long for a child of our own.” He took a breath, trying to calm himself. “And there is something else I must tell you before anyone else knows.”

“What?” Her gaze lifted, startled and wary, to his. “Is something wrong?”

“No. At least, I don't think it's wrong.” Now it was his turn to evade her eyes. He focused on the envelope instead as he pulled the letter and the photos out. “I received this today from the man in Brook Hill who showed me his farm. He says his wife insisted he send some photographs of the inside of the house for you to look at.”

He held the handful of pictures out to her. For a moment she just stared at them, and then her fingers closed around them.

“That was wonderful kind of her.” Elizabeth's voice was toneless, but at least she'd taken the photos.

“See here?”

He leaned closer, his enthusiasm getting the better of his judgment. If only Elizabeth could share his feelings about the move. They could be planning it together, the way they'd planned everything together when they'd first married. He had a sudden image in his mind of the afternoon Elizabeth had sneaked him up to her bedroom in her parents' house, just so she could show him the set of quilted placemats her sister had made for them. They'd talked about how their kinder would love the bright appliquéd rooster on the placemats.

“There's the kitchen. Look how nice and big it is, and with a good-sized pantry, too. And there's a separate room for the laundry. That would be handy, ain't so?”

Elizabeth seemed to make an effort. “It's nice.” Her neck bent, and she was very still for a long moment. “Maybe . . . maybe it would be for the best.” Her voice was strained. “I just don't know anymore.”

Hope surged through him. “Do you mean it?”

Still she didn't look at him, and he wasn't sure she even saw the pictures she stared at. “It might be better to go than to stay here and have to watch Becky and Isaac's happiness.” She stopped abruptly, as if she'd just heard what she'd said. Her hand flew to her lips. “Ach, no. I'm sorry. How could I think that?”

He hesitated, sensing he had to move carefully. “It's all right. I know you don't really mean it.”

Elizabeth's eyes met his, and they glistened with unshed tears. “I'm afraid. That's the truth of it. Afraid there won't be another baby, afraid I can't get along without family near. Afraid my jealousy will show. And I'm ashamed of myself.”

“My sweet Elizabeth.” His heart ached. “I wish I could make everything better.”

“I know.” She managed a tremulous smile. “I'm really wonderful glad for them. I know I have to find the courage to do this.”

His throat was tight as he nodded. “I'll help you. It will be all right as long as we're together.”

“Rueben . . .” He realized she was blinking back tears. “Could you make one last effort to find a place here first?”

There wouldn't be anything. He already knew it. Still, making another round of properties was a small price to pay for Elizabeth's cooperation.

“I'll try. But if I don't find something in the next couple of weeks, we've decided, ja? We'll be moving to Brook Hill.”

•   •   •

Barbie
studied her grandmother's face as she leaned back in her chair. Grossmammi loved telling her stories, but this morning she seemed more tired than usual. She closed her eyes, fumbling a little with a hand-quilted placemat she'd taken from the dower chest.

“Are you all right, Grossmammi?” Barbie put her strong young hand over her grandmother's thin fingers. “Have I tired you out, coming in the morning this way?”

Since she was working the lunch shift today, she'd had time to visit her grandmother before heading to work. Her brother would drop her off at the cafe, and then Ashlee would drive
her home and stay for supper. She found herself tensing with the hope that the get-together would go well. What would Ashlee think of her family? Just as important, what would they think of her?

Her grandmother opened her eyes, smiling a little. “I'm fine. I'm wonderful glad you came, busy as you are.” Her gaze seemed far away. “I don't know that I appreciated how happy being busy makes a person until I wasn't able to do things.”

Barbie wasn't sure how to respond to that comment. She certain-sure didn't want to make her grandmother sad over this whole business.

“You must have been kept very busy on the farm back in Lancaster, ain't so?”

“I suppose I was. It didn't seem so at the time. With Becky and Reuben's mamm both working alongside me, we usually talked so much the time flew by.”

Barbie smiled. “That's why we call them work frolics, ain't so? The work is play if you have people to do it with.”

“Maybe that was part of my reluctance to move when your grossdaadi wanted to.” She said it slowly, as if it hadn't occurred to her before. “I was used to having other women around all the time, sharing the chores. Moving sounded like a lonely business.”

“It sounds like an adventure to me.” Barbie couldn't help the lilt in her voice. Anything out of the ordinary seemed exciting to her.

“Ach, that's because you are a bold spirit.” Grossmammi's smile brightened her face, taking away the fatigue. “I was never like you.”

Barbie found that hard to believe. “I've always thought you
were the strongest person I've ever known. You're the one who keeps the family together.”

“Ach, no. I'm just the story-keeper, that's all. It's people like your grandfather who will brave the unknown to make a better life—they are the strong ones.”

Barbie patted her hand, relieved to see her returning to normal. “I'm not so sure. After all, you've always been the one we turn to when we need advice. Or even just comforting.”

Grossmammi laughed softly. “That's the best part of being a grandmother, my Barbie. You'll know it one day when you are one.”

“I'll have to have some kinder of my own first,” she said lightly. She rose, putting the quilted placemat back in the dower chest. “David is driving me to work. And one of the Englisch girls I work with will drive me home and stay for supper.”

“You'll have a gut time, then.” Grossmammi kissed her cheek gently as Barbie bent over her. “We'll talk again soon.”

With a good-bye wave, Barbie crossed from the dower house to the main house, just a few steps away. She popped her head into the kitchen to say good-bye to her aunt.

“Grossmammi seemed a little tired this morning. I hope I didn't keep her talking too long.”

Her aunt turned from the sink, drying her hands. “It does her good to visit with you, that's certain-sure. She loves telling you girls her stories. I'll just check and see if she wants anything.”

Grossmammi was in good hands, for sure. All of her daughters-in-law would do anything for her. Barbie headed outside to where Belle stood patiently in the shade of the big oak tree, waiting.

Before she could climb into the buggy, Barbie heard
someone coming down the lane. She turned in time to see Ben Kauffmann's buggy draw up next to hers.

Life certainly seemed to keep throwing them together. She pinned a smile on her face, determined that this time she wouldn't allow Ben to so much as quicken her pulse for a moment.

He slid down, giving the buggy horse a pat. “Barbie. Been visiting your grossmammi, have you?”

She nodded. Probably the entire church knew by this time that Grossmammi was passing on her family stories to her granddaughter. There were few secrets in an Amish community.

Well, there was one, at least. The one she and Ben shared.

“What brings you here?” she asked.

“Your onkel is thinking about putting new upholstery in the family carriage. I brought by some samples for him to look at. How is your grandmother?”

“A little tired, I think. Usually I come by on my way home from work, but I'm working later today.” To her annoyance, she felt a slight fluttering as his golden brown eyes studied her face. “How are things going with Linda helping at your place?”

There, that mention of Linda Esch would remind her that Ben Kauffmann was out-of-bounds for her. Wouldn't it? With such a perfect woman around taking care of his house and children, he was bound to become interested in her.

“Linda?” For an instant it seemed that he had forgotten the name. “Oh, right. She's fine, I suppose.” He paused a moment and then shrugged, the faintest hint of a smile teasing his firm lips. “It seems strange having her around, that's all. I keep wondering if I remembered to wipe my feet before I came in.”