So it was that, on Thursday as soon as she could get away, Rebecca was on her way to Emma’s house. The day, which dawned with a few snow clouds, was now breaking into sunshine, and Rebecca was thankful.
Pulling on the reins of the unfamiliar horse, she brought it to a stop at Highway 3. Nervously, she hoped it would stand still long enough for the road to clear. It hadn’t seemed too skittish when she hitched it to the buggy, but one never knew what quirks each individual horse had.
Keeping the reins taut, she waited for the cars coming from each direction. Their approaching sounds seemed not to affect the horse—calmly it kept its head pointed toward the town of Milroy and raised no objections to the stop. Once the highway was clear, she let the lines out slowly, relieved.
Following Leona’s directions, she drove through Milroy, with its full blaze of Christmas decorations, and then south on Base Road. Once she was past the next junction, she started looking for the house. It wasn’t hard to find. The house was on her left, the driveway circling past the white two-story house to the red barn.
A buggy was already parked in front of the barn. It was unhitched and cross corners to the barnyard. That could be Emma’s buggy, but Rebecca doubted it. Emma would likely keep her buggy inside or at least under the barn overhang. It must belong to Luke, who Leona had told her worked for Emma.
As she pulled up, she caught sight of a figure out beside the third barn, working with the cattle. His black hat hid his face, but he had Luke’s shape and height. He showed no interest in her arrival or made any attempt to come in her direction and offer to unhitch the buggy for her.
Pulling up to the hitching rail and avoiding the parked buggy, Rebecca got out. She leaned back into the buggy and retrieved the tie rope from under the seat, where she had placed it for easier retrieval. The horse made no objections as she tied it securely to the rail.
Following the sidewalk, she arrived at the front door and timidly knocked. When it opened, Emma’s face instantly broke into a broad smile. “Oh, Rebecca. I wondered who drove in. I figured it was probably business and Luke would take care of it. By all means, come in.”
Rebecca, her schoolgirl shyness coming over her, stepped inside. Emma was as imposing as ever. Tall for an Amish woman, her now nearly white hair was neatly tucked under her hair covering, but it was her demeanor that made the most impact. At church on Sunday, it wasn’t as apparent, but here in her own house during the week, the effect was unmistakable. Emma was used to giving the orders.
“I thought I’d stop by,” Rebecca said. Then feeling that more of an explanation was in order, she added, “There’s something I’d like to ask you.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve come all the way over here with some confession about cheating during your school days. Seems like I have heard enough of those already,” Emma exclaimed, motioning toward the living room. “Can’t say I ever expected it of you, as hard as you had to work.”
“No, no.” Rebecca was thoroughly flustered. “That’s not it at all!”
“Well!
Dank Da Hah,
” Emma exclaimed. “It would have disappointed me quite a lot. Let me get you a glass of water or orange juice.”
“Water’s fine,” Rebecca told her.
Emma wrinkled her brow. “Well, I wanted orange juice. So let me get you both. Then if you don’t drink it, nothing’s lost.”
Without waiting for approval from Rebecca, Emma went to the kitchen, her stride firm and brisk. Returning, she set two glasses beside Rebecca and went back to the kitchen for her own glass.
“So you live in Wheat Ridge now?”
“Yes.”
“For what? Three, four years?”
“Something like that.”
“Do you like it?”
Rebecca’s face lit up. “Yes. Wheat Ridge is a wonderful place to live. We’ve really made ourselves at home there. Mom likes it, I think. Dad is doing well with the farm. A lot of businesses are along that road. Amish ones. I suppose Dad could get work with one of them, but he likes the farm.”
“You still milk?”
“Yes. And Matthew is just learning how to chore,” Rebecca said. “Poor fellow. He had to learn fast when Mom decided to send me out to help Leona.”
“Oh, ya. You’re here for the baby. On Sunday they said it was a boy.”
Rebecca smiled. “Jonathon. He’s already growing fat. Sleeps well at night too. That is helping Leona get better faster.”
“Wouldn’t know much about babies myself. I’m just a school-teacher.”
“And a good one,” Rebecca said with affection.
“I always liked you too.” Emma allowed similar feelings to creep into her voice. “So what was it that you wanted to ask me?”
Now that the time had come, Rebecca hesitated, thinking about the consequences, then plunged ahead. “It’s about Atlee.”
Emma raised her eyebrows. “You two get in trouble together? That’s a whole lot worse than cheating. How did I miss that? I remember I was just about to the point where I was going to tell your mother that she needed to keep you two apart. Then his parents went Mennonite.”
“Oh, no,” Rebecca shook her head and replied, “it’s not that at all. We didn’t do anything inappropriate.”
Emma looked relieved. “I’m glad to hear that. What is it then?”
“Well,” Rebecca took a deep breath and continued, “one of the reasons I was glad Mom let me come out to help Leona is that I needed to find out something.”
“Yes?” Emma was waiting.
“I needed to know. To understand. About Atlee and me. Something that was scaring me.”
“And?” Emma was looking at her.
“I realized it the day Leona had Jonathon. I loved Atlee. I loved him more than I have ever loved anyone. And…” she said hesitantly.
Should I really tell Emma about the promise?
“Well, Atlee asked me to promise to wait for him. That is, that when we were adults, we’d come back together…”
Emma was silent as Rebecca collected herself.
“We had promised to meet each other on my twenty-first birthday. And that was last week. And so I came to the bridge where we were supposed to meet.” She ended with a gasp and tears. “I had to tell someone.”
“Of course you did,” Emma said quietly. “He didn’t show, did he?”
“What am I going to do?” Rebecca asked, her eyes large. “He didn’t come. I…I’ve even thought about not marrying…about staying single. Like you. You’ve always seemed so happy.”
Emma let out a breath. “Well, first off, Rebecca, I don’t think you ought to hold it against Atlee for not coming. You were both so young then. Things change as we get older. We forget what once seemed so important.”
Rebecca was crying softly, but didn’t speak.
Emma sat back in her chair. “Tell me, Rebecca. Has there been anyone else since Atlee?”
“Yes. John Miller in Wheat Ridge. He asked me to marry him just before I came out here.”
“And you said what?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me more about you and Atlee.”
Rebecca looked over toward the fireplace. Its smooth stones stood out from each other, each a different shade of earth tone, held together by gray mortar. She took a deep breath and then began, “It was on one of the last days he was in school. He gave me a ring that he had found. Asked me if I would keep it until I turned twenty-one. That he would come back for me then. He said that I should wait for him. I told him I would, Emma. I even promised.”
“What did this ring look like?”
“Oh, it was pretty. But that’s not what’s causing me trouble.”
“I know. It’s your heart that’s causing you trouble.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Do you still have the ring?”
“No. I threw it away when he didn’t show up. Do you think he’s going to come back?”
Emma didn’t think long before replying, “No, dear, they never do.”
“But I loved him with all my heart.”
“Yes. I know you did. That was because you were young. Young
hearts fill up easily,” Emma said, taking Rebecca’s hand. “You can learn to give all that love to John now.”
“You think so?”
Emma nodded, squeezing her hand. “He’s an Amish boy? This John?”
“Of course!” Rebecca said in horror. “I wouldn’t date anyone else.”
“That’s what I thought.” Emma’s lips stretched into a thin smile. “Does he love you?”
“Yes, he says he does.”
“Well, now, that’s something wonderful. An Amish man who loves you. Rebecca, the very best thing you can do is to love this John right back.”
Rebecca nodded, still unsure.
“What time do you have to be back at Leona’s?” Emma asked.
“Soon. I’m leaving tomorrow with a load going to Wheat Ridge for Christmas visits. I need to pack.”
“So why don’t I show you the house, and let’s continue our visit. Let’s get you cheered up. Okay?”
That was fine with Rebecca. She followed Emma through the house, taking in the details and the history. It was clearly built by the English because it had a fireplace.
“My brother, M-Jay—did you know him, Rebecca?”
“I think I may have met him when I was little, but I don’t really remember,” she said.
“He left me this farm—and two others. Good farms too.”
Thirty minutes later, Rebecca was back on the road, her heart much lighter. She would go home, she decided, and learn to love John as she had loved Atlee. Emma had come to her rescue as always. Her heart was now bigger, and she would give it all away again. She would let John’s love fill all of her heart.
She was a quarter mile or so short of the stop sign where she would turn onto the state road toward Milroy. That’s where Rebecca noticed
the blue car following her. When she guided the buggy to the side of the road to give the car room to pass, it made no great effort to do so. It moved over slightly and drove up even with the buggy.
She glimpsed a male face inside the car, intently scrutinizing the interior of the buggy as it inched by.
This could be any one of many things,
she thought,
a curious tourist, some local who thought he knew her, or worse, perhaps a total stranger with evil on his mind.
Whoever it was pulled to a slow stop ahead of her and opened the car door to get out. She saw clearly that it was a young man, clean-cut and wearing a T-shirt and denim pants. Thinking fast, she thought about giving Leona’s horse full rein and making a run for the main road where she might get help.
Instead, she waited as he approached the buggy, his step confident. There was no use in avoiding his presence, so she slid open the buggy door, keeping the reins firmly in her left hand.
“Rebecca?” he asked, stopping just short of the buggy steps, a half question in his voice, a smile playing on his lips.
“Yes,” she said because he already seemed to know her name.
“I thought so,” he said. “You just came from Emma’s place. I passed you coming down.”
When she kept a stony look on her face, he asked, “You don’t recognize me, do you?”
“Should I?” she asked, finally looking full into his face. And then at once the years shed themselves in front of her eyes. The freckles were gone, the face was etched with lines—as if he had somehow suffered in life, but his hair was still brown and his eyes as blue as ever.
“Atlee,” she said with what breath she could muster.
“Yes, Atlee,” he said, his head slightly deferring to her, his eyes lowering momentarily.
“But—” she managed, “you—I thought you didn’t come.”
“You went to the bridge, then?” he asked, his smile gone now.
“Yes, and you weren’t there. So why are you here now?” she asked.
“To do what I hope is the right thing, Rebecca.”
“So why weren’t you at the bridge?”
“Did you want me to be there?”
The question caught her off guard, her thoughts racing. Should she tell him the truth? Would she hurt him if he knew she had not wanted him to show up after all?
“See I forgot,” Atlee said, letting his eyes fall to the ground again, saving her from answering. “Yet, somehow, even if I had remembered, it wouldn’t have seemed right. That place was for us to fulfill a promise. But what we promised can never happen. I think you know that.”
Rebecca found nothing to say.
“Rebecca, the truth is we’ve both changed. And I know you’re getting married to someone else. John.”
“How could you know that?” Rebecca asked.
“Mary told me.”
“Mary? How do you know Mary?”
“She’s Mennonite…and so am I. She and I have known each other for a few years. When she mentioned your name and described you,” Atlee said, smiling sheepishly, “in detail, I was sure it was you. She told me about John. And it was then that I remembered you might be at the bridge. Rebecca, to be honest, I had forgotten. It was so long ago.”
“Yes,” Rebecca said, “a long time ago.”
“But Rebecca, I’ve not forgotten you,” Atlee continued. “I felt something very strong toward you when we were young. And you felt the same. I treasure that memory.”
“I kept the ring all these years,” Rebecca said.