The Rebel (24 page)

She let out a breath. “I . . . I think there's enough cake left to serve them. I'll put the coffee on.”

Without another word, Reuben went out to greet them. Her hands trembled a bit as she started the coffee. What had possessed her to ask him that in such an accusing manner? She hadn't meant . . . Well, she'd thought . . .

That train of thought didn't seem to be comforting her much, so she concentrated on arranging her face in a welcoming smile as the two women came in the back door.

“Etta, Ruth. How nice to see you. Wilkom.” She exchanged hugs with Etta King, who'd been in her grade in school and in her rumspringa gang. Ruth, several years older, she hadn't known as well, although of course she knew everyone in the church district.

“I hope we're not intruding.” Ruth took off her bonnet, hanging it on one of the pegs by the back door. “I told Johnny we'd be interrupting your supper, but he was anxious to get on the way.”

“It's just fine. You'll have coffee and cake.”

Etta came to lean over her shoulder. “Your mother-in-law's chocolate cake with peanut butter icing? Nobody will turn that down.”

“Actually I made it from her recipe,” Elizabeth confessed. “Are you still willing to risk it?”

Etta's grin made her look like the freckled ten-year-old she'd once been. “Are you better at cooking than you were that day we made the peanut butter fudge?”

“The batch that ran so much we had to eat it with a spoon, you mean? I was only nine or ten then. I hope I'm a better cook now than I was then.”

Ruth smiled at the banter but didn't join it. “I'll get the
plates and cups ready.” She reached out to the open shelves to take down coffee mugs. “These okay?”

Nodding, Elizabeth set a cream pitcher and sugar bowl on a tray so it could be carried into the living room.

“When we move, I want to have open shelves like these in my kitchen,” Etta announced. “Daniel says he'll do up the kitchen however I want, since he'll have to take out the electrics that are in there anyway.”

“So you and Daniel . . . you've bought a house up in Brook Hill already?”

“Ja, it's a nice place, Daniel says. He's that excited he's like a kid on his birthday. It's right next to . . .” She hesitated and glanced at Ruth. “Next to the farm that Reuben had a chance to buy, Daniel says.”

“Our place is a bit farther along the same road,” Ruth said. “And the Esch brothers bought a place that's not far, either. They're going to share the farmhouse until they can get another house built. Hopefully by fall, they say.”

Elizabeth set plates of cake on a tray. “Don't you . . . Aren't you at all upset about going off to a new place like that where you don't know anyone?”

Etta glanced at Ruth, as if telling the older woman to go first.

Ruth seemed to consider her words carefully before she spoke. “I'll miss family, that's certain-sure. But Johnny is right that it's more and more difficult to live as we want here. We thought about it and prayed about it, and I feel content that God is directing our path.”

The words seemed to strike her, despite being delivered in Ruth's usual calm, measured tones. When had she prayed
about this decision? Oh, she'd prayed all right—but only for what she wanted.

Etta put her arm around Elizabeth's waist as if they were girls again. “It would be easier for me if you were going to be just across the field, but I have good feelings about this move. How often do we get to have an adventure?” Her eyes danced. “Remember how we learned about those Amish who set out for a new world, not knowing what they'd find? Well, this is a chance to be like them, ain't so?”

It seemed to echo something her grandmother had said about having the courage to move ahead. Inner panic took a grip on her, making it hard to breathe. Courage.

But she'd been willing, hadn't she? Before she'd learned the baby was coming. She'd agreed to go, but the new baby changed everything. Reuben understood that.

The men came in then, talking, seeming to fill the room to overflowing. Ruth picked up one of the trays, leading the way to the living room, while Etta took the other and Elizabeth picked up the coffeepot.

“Komm,” she said. “We'll have cake and coffee while we visit.” Somehow she managed to sound normal, despite the way her thoughts tumbled and bounced in her head.

Once everyone was seated, she fussed over serving them, trying to keep her thoughts at bay through busyness. Finally she settled in her usual rocking chair, realizing that Reuben was watching her, frowning a bit. He knew her so well—maybe better than she knew him.

That idea troubled her. Was she really that selfish? He had grieved over their lost little boy, too, but he had put his pain aside
in order to comfort her. And now—now he had the chance at the life they truly wanted, and he was giving it up. For her.

Johnny had begun talking about his plans for the move, complicated by the distance and the need to transfer animals as well as people and household furnishings.

“Ach, I don't know what I'm complaining about,” he said. “After all, the Bible tells us that Abraham packed up everything he owned, including his flocks, and traveled where the Lord told him even though it took years. We can manage a trip that just takes a couple of hours.”

“I'd guess that Sarah did most of the packing,” Ruth said. “That hasn't changed.” Ruth and Johnny exchanged the glances of two people who knew each other too well to need speech to confess their feelings.

Elizabeth laughed along with the others, but her heart felt sore. If they had come here tonight to make her think, they were succeeding, but she didn't have to enjoy it, did she? She wanted to go back to the joy she'd felt at the double news of the coming baby and the decision to stay, but she couldn't.

“Well, we won't deny that we'd rather have you along with us in Brook Hill,” Daniel said. “But you have to do what you think is right. Sure you won't think again?”

She looked at Reuben and couldn't turn away. His face was set, the lines in it seeming to make him older than his years. He was willing to sacrifice all he wanted for her. What was she willing to sacrifice for him?

Before he could speak, she grasped his hand. “Komm. We must talk.”

His startled gaze met hers. Then, without a word, he got
up and went out with her, through the kitchen and onto the back porch.

Elizabeth stood for a moment, seeing the rays of the setting sun turn the land to gold around them. Her heart filled. This had always been home for her, but how could that be? Home wasn't a place. It was wherever her heart was, and Reuben held her heart.

“I think we should go.” The words coming out of her mouth startled her. She expected to feel pain, but instead relief flooded her. This was right. She knew it.

“Elizabeth?” Reuben looked at her as if he couldn't be sure he'd heard correctly. “What are you saying?”

“We should go,” she said. “Can you find out if the farm is still available?” Fear assaulted her—fear that because of her delaying, Reuben could have lost the farm he wanted.

Reuben took both her hands in his, his intent gaze studying her face. “He said he wouldn't accept an offer from anyone without checking with me first, so that's all right. But are you sure? You said . . .”

“I know.” She blinked back tears as she looked into his dear face. “I was letting my fear speak for me.” She smiled shakily and said what she'd begun to see so clearly now. “I thought it would take courage I didn't have. But now . . . now I see. It's not courage. It's faith.”

She reached up to place her hand against his dear face, loving the joy that slowly dawned in his eyes.

“‘Whither thou goest, I will go. Whither thou lodgest, I will lodge.' I don't think I'm brave, but like Ruth, I have faith . . . Faith in you, and faith in God, who guides our steps.”

Reuben's face seemed gilded with gold, too, and his smile
was so very tender. He drew her into the circle of his arms. “My sweet Elizabeth. I promise I will make you happy. I promise . . .”

She shook her head. “You don't need to promise. You already make me happy. And wherever we are, our future is together.” She smiled, joy bubbling up inside her. “Let's go and tell our friends we are ready for our new adventure.”

•   •   •

Barbie
glanced at Terry as he turned onto a two-lane country road. “You seem to know exactly where to go.”

“I have to admit I've been to a party out here myself a time or two.” He grinned. “Not lately, though. I'm past the stage of finding it fun to sit on damp ground to swill beer.”

Barbie gasped and braced her hand against the dash. “There's a police car up there.” Had she gone this far only to be too late? That would be ironic.

“I see it.” Terry made a quick turn onto a dirt road. “Looks as if we'll have to take the back way in.”

She asked the question on her mind. “Do you think the police are already there?”

Terry considered for a moment. “Probably not. It looked to me like that car was just waiting. And I think we'd see flashing lights through the trees if anything was happening.” He pointed slightly to the right ahead of them. “The clearing kids usually use for parties is that way. There's a fire ring where they can start a fire.”

And drink. This was likely to be a wilder party than any of those girls had bargained for, regardless of the probable intervention by the police.

“If the police are there . . .” she began.

“Then I can't go in,” he said flatly. “If I got involved, get my name in the paper for being involved in underage drinking, it could cost me my job.” He glanced at her. “Sorry. But I'm no hero.”

“It's good of you to do this much. I appreciate it.” There were lines he wouldn't cross, obviously, and she didn't blame him. But she couldn't help thinking of Benuel, who would do what was right whatever the cost.

The road turned into a lane, then a grassy track. The car bumped and jolted and finally came to a halt.

“This is as far as we can drive. You can see the campfire through the trees over there. You'll have to walk the rest of the way.”

“Right.” She started to slide out, but he halted her with a hand on her wrist.

“This is really important to you, huh?”

She nodded, pushing the door wide. “I'm afraid a . . . a friend of mine is involved. I feel responsible for her.”

Terry's smile flashed. “See, that's why I don't take on responsibility for other people. Too likely to lead you into trouble.”

“You're here, aren't you? That seems plenty responsible.” She got out. “But if you see the police coming, go ahead and leave.”

He shrugged. “We'll hope that doesn't happen. I'll turn and be ready to take off when you get back here with the kids. Make it fast. The cops could come any minute now.”

He didn't have to remind her. The cold feeling in the pit of her stomach was already doing it. She hurried away from the car toward the glow of the campfire, brushing through the high weeds, the pounding of her heart increasing with every step.

Easy enough to cover the ground in the open, but as soon as she entered the undergrowth, she had to slow down, even
as the need to hurry beat in her brain. Brambles reached out, catching at her skirt as if they were malevolently determined to delay her. She pushed on, wincing when one caught at her unprotected wrist, drawing blood.

Finally she was into the belt of trees, where the going was easier. Breathing quickly, she sped along, trying to shift her gaze between the ground in front of her and the campfire. She could hear voices and laughter now, smell the wood burning. Music blasted for a moment and then was turned down.

At the edge of the trees she stopped, hand on the slender trunk of a locust tree, and scanned the area in front of her. The flames leaped, burnishing the faces of kids and reflecting off the black shimmering surface of the reservoir. While she watched, a couple of guys pulled down a
No Trespassing
sign. They tossed it into the flames to the cheers of their friends.

It wasn't easy to pick out the three Amish girls, dressed as they were in jeans and T-shirts. Finally she spotted Sadie Esch a little way back from the fire. She chugged from a can of beer, then offered it to her younger sister, Becky. Becky took a swallow, made a face, and passed it on to the girl next to her—slight, small, with long blond hair. She turned slightly to drink, and Barbie saw her face. It was Mary Kauffmann.

Her stomach clenched. She'd been hoping it was all a mistake—that Mary wasn't here. But she was, and Barbie had to get her and the others out of here before their night out turned into a possible lifetime of regrets.

She walked toward them, trying to move unobtrusively enough not to attract the attention of the rest of the crowd. Fortunately the others were grouped around the blaze, feeding the fire with small branches so that the flames leaped higher.
Didn't they realize how much attention they could draw? Maybe they didn't care.

Reaching out, Barbie grasped Mary's arm. The girl spun and saw her.

“You! What are you doing here? Go away and quit bugging me.”

She tried to pull free, but Barbie held on. “Listen to me, Mary. And you two, as well.” She rounded on the two Esch girls, who had started to back away. Not wanting to start a panic, she kept her voice low. “The police are going to raid this party. We saw one car already, and there'll be more coming. If you don't want to end up in tomorrow's headlines and have your folks bailing you out of jail, come with me now.”

Sadie, who'd looked ready to sass her, blanched at the mention of the police.

“How?” She tossed the can away.

“I have a friend waiting with a car. Komm. Schnell.”