Rebecca's Return (20 page)

His silent prayer done, the sound of Reuben’s fork on his plate brought Rachel back to the present.

“It’s enough,” his eyes told her when she looked at him.

She accepted his rebuke without protest, inwardly glad Reuben had caught her praying longer. This might irritate him at the moment, but later when it mattered, Reuben might consider the extra holiness to her credit.

After he had taken his pancakes, Rachel handed Reuben the egg plate. She then cleared her throat to speak. The moment was arriving when the words should be said. It bothered her that Luke was here, but she supposed it couldn’t be helped.

What she had to say was best said now, at this opportune moment when Reuben was enjoying his pancakes and eggs. After breakfast Reuben would not want to wait before heading outdoors. Then in the afternoon, before he left for his deacon rounds, the effect of the pancakes and eggs would be well worn off.

“You remember about last night?” she asked, broaching the subject carefully, checking his mood with a quick glance at his face. It seemed safe enough.

Just to be sure Reuben remembered the right thing, Rachel stuck the information into the next sentence. “Keeping the
ordnung
—when you go on your rounds this afternoon.”

He nodded, his mouth full of maple syrup-soaked pancake, a look of pleasure on his face.

“Last fall I saw Ezra using the tractor,” she said, dropping the news, “to pull his wagon back to the wheat field.”

Reuben stared at her, his eyes blank. “Using his tractor?”

“Yes,” Rachel said.

“But Ezra—” he said and paused, digesting the information.

Rachel knew what that meant. He didn’t want to hear this charge against Ezra. Her brother was reasonably well-off, even without the lost inheritance from their father. Ezra was also a vocal supporter of Bishop Mose. He often spoke up at council meetings as well as any in-between members’ meetings when church matters were brought up.

“You think it’s that serious?” Reuben finally asked.

“I saw him,” Rachel said, leaving no room for maneuvers in her voice. “He did it right out in the daytime.”

“Maybe he had use for the tractor in the wheat field?”

“Yes…” Rachel let the word flow off her tongue. “The tractor maybe…the wagon maybe. But not the two hitched together. You know the rules.”

“Yes,” he said with resignation.

“You need to talk to him.”

“The bishop hasn’t been told,” Reuben countered.

“He doesn’t have to be,” she told him firmly. “You know the rules. Anyone can turn in a complaint.”

“It’s Ezra,” Reuben said, as if that explained everything. “I’m not going without asking Bishop Mose first.”

“You know what’s going to happen then.” Rachel glared at him.

“I suppose,” he allowed. “Maybe Mose will talk to him privately.”

“Like that will do any good.” She tried to bring her anger under control. “He’ll just talk to him. Nothing will be done.”

“That’s up to Mose.” Reuben was staying tightly in his refuge, then ventured out with something Rachel didn’t expect. “Why are you so interested in this all of a sudden?”

Knowing she had to say something, she pulled her trump card. “Reuben, I’m with child.”

He stared at her, his pancakes forgotten. “A child?”

“Yes,” she said.

“After all these years?”

“Yes,” she repeated, glancing at Luke, wishing this was not being discussed in front of him.

Luke was eating his eggs and pancakes, his eyes on his plate, saying nothing.

“
Da Hah sei lobhdt,
” Reuben pronounced, a smile spreading across his face again. “The fruit of the womb is a blessing from heaven.
Da Hah
has seen fit to visit us again…and that in our old age.”

“Yes,” Rachel said, not wanting to dampen his feelings, though she doubted now whether this would help her mission much. At least her husband would no longer question her motives.

“So,” Reuben pronounced, understanding spreading across his face.
Her newfound concern for church rules is connected to the desire for the spiritual welfare of this child.
“You are with child,” he said reverently, remembering his pancakes again.

She could almost see his feelings about himself grow before her eyes. He would again have a child to take to church, to sit on the preacher’s bench with. Even if it turned out to be a girl, she knew he would take her.

There would be cleansing for him with this child. Her barrenness had been the will of the Almighty, and it had reflected on him as a leader of the church. Unable to produce offspring, he had felt diminished and set back from the other ministers with their benches full of little ones.

“You are no longer childless.
Da Hah’
s blessing has returned.”

Rachel glanced at Luke, wishing Reuben would quit his outburst. She felt embarrassed in front of Luke. She wondered why
he
wasn’t embarrassed.

“I’ll talk to Ezra,” Reuben said so suddenly, it startled her.

“Really?” She couldn’t keep the pleasure out of her voice.

“For the child’s sake,” he said. “It will be for the future of the church—for him.”

For her,
she felt like adding but restrained herself. He would accept a girl too, she knew. It was just his way of saying it.

“This afternoon,” he said, as if arriving at a firm conclusion. “You’ll need to go to town this morning,” he spoke in Luke’s direction.

Luke nodded his head.

“We need a couple bags of oats for the horses. Co-op in Rushville would be best.”

“How much have we left?” Luke asked, speaking his first words all morning.

“Not but a half bag.”

“Kind of expensive right now,” Luke commented. “Was cheaper in September.”

“Yah,” Reuben said, nodding, “I didn’t have enough money to stock up then. We’ll just have to buy it as we need to.”

Luke nodded again. Reuben then got up, breakfast over. As Luke followed him outside, Rachel kept her anger in check.
Why had the man not purchased enough feed in September? Even Luke seemed to know enough to do that.
She bit her tongue to keep from speaking aloud.

No sense in upsetting the applecart now, besides she had her day’s work cut out with baking. There was another batch of bread to be made. Then there was the child to consider. Who knew how the time of carrying would go. Luke had caused disturbances only in the morning, as this one seemed to be doing, but one never knew.

She sighed, gathering up the loaf of bread she had worked so hard on yesterday, preparing it for disposal as soon as both Luke and Reuben were out of the way. The flour, she decided, would go to the chickens.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-FIVE

A
t the Keim breakfast table, Rebecca was happily taking in the sights and sounds of home. Her thoughts, at the moment, distracted from thinking about John or her upcoming planned Sunday with him. She hated keeping thoughts of John at bay but figured it was not entirely her fault. John had not behaved the best last night.

“Mom cooks real good when someone’s come home,” Lester pronounced for all of them to hear, as he took another biscuit, poured creamy white gravy on it, and then gazed rapturously at the sight.

“Mom’s always good,” Matthew spoke up.

“You just want to come back from somewhere so
you
get some attention,” Katie told him.

“He’s got to leave first,” Viola said, sharing a look with her sister.

“I’m leaving as soon as I can.” Matthew made a face at both of them.

“
No kann nimmand uns foahra,
” Ada, the seven-year-old, said with concern about the possibility of losing their driver if Matthew were to leave.

“She means to school.” Katie supplied the interpretation, glaring at Matthew.

“Now…now.” Lester let his voice remain mellow as he took charge. “Matthew’s not going anywhere.”

“
Goot,
” Ada proclaimed, slicing her egg in half.

“Someday?” Matthew dared ask.

“Maybe.” Lester qualified his statement.

“Only in
Gottes villa,
” Mattie said quickly.

“Yes—only that way,” Lester agreed.

“What is
Gottes villa?
” Matthew asked.

“That’s God’s will for you—
Dat,
” Mattie said, getting up to leave the table for more biscuits, the supply getting low. She stepped toward the oven where more were being kept, lest they cool off too quickly.

Lester cleared his throat. “The book,” he said, nodding toward the living room where they all knew the family Bible was kept, “that first—then the council of the church. With those two, you will be kept safe.”

Rebecca wondered if she dared, then decided she would by saying, “The English say we must go by our own judgment too.”

“That’s the English,” was her father’s only response.

“You can do better than that,” Mattie said, from over by the oven.

“It’s not us,” he said, more curtly than usual.

“I wasn’t trying to make trouble,” Rebecca said quickly, sorry she had brought it up. Discomfort around the family table was one of the last things she wanted at the moment.

Her father seemed to ignore the remark, making her think he was more upset than she had imagined. Visions of John from last night flashed in front of her eyes, but this was not John. Lester had never spoken to her with such anger.

Apparently having found the answer he was looking for, Lester said slowly, “We are different. Yes, we think our judgment ought to be used but only to decide if we are understanding the Word correctly.” He played with his spoon and continued, “Also to decide if the church is teaching the Word. But,” he said, laying his spoon down, “not to decide our own rules. That is where we are different.”

Breaking into the conversation, Mattie, who was standing at the window, asked, “I wonder why Esther’s here.”

“I wonder what she wants,” Matthew asked.

Mattie went to the front door to meet Esther. A moment later, the family heard a muffled greeting and then silence as the front door shut.

“They went outside,” Katie stated the obvious.

“Why can’t Mom talk inside?” Viola asked.

“Sh. They probably have woman things to talk about,” Lester told them.

“What are woman things?” Viola continued.

“You don’t want to know,” Matthew said. “It’s trouble.”

Glancing at her father, who seemed at a loss with what to say, Rebecca helped him out. “Maybe someone had a baby and…” Rebecca said and then hesitated herself, “they might be having trouble.”

“It’s
always
trouble,” Matthew muttered, his mouth full of egg and biscuit.

“Did you have trouble—with baby Jonathon—in Milroy?” Viola asked.

“She likes babies,” Matthew chuckled.

“Yes,” Rebecca replied, smiling, “I do—but there was no trouble with Jonathon.” Yet her mind flashed back to that evening and night of the birth. There easily could have been, and it also easily could be what the two women outside on the front yard were talking about.

They heard the front door open again, followed by Mattie’s quick steps across the living room. She stopped in the kitchen opening, her face drawn. “Rebecca,” she said, in a strained voice, “come outside.”

“Is something wrong?” Rebecca asked, rising from her chair. Everyone around the table was looking at her, surprise on their faces. Rebecca felt a sudden fear grip her.

“Just come,” Mattie told her.

“Trouble,” Matthew said ominously, as the door opened and shut again.

“Be quiet,” Lester told them one and all. “Finish your breakfast. It could be anything. Mom will tell us when it’s time.”

“I want to know now,” Viola protested.

“Just eat,” Lester told her, as silence settled on the room, except for the sound of their eating.

Outside Esther was standing by her buggy, her head bowed. Mattie hadn’t said a word since leaving the kitchen, walking briskly in front of Rebecca.

“Rebecca, it’s John,” Esther said, her eyes rising to Rebecca’s face.

Rebecca felt herself go cold. “What is it? What about John?”

“He’s in the hospital,” Esther said. “He has a fractured skull. Aden thought I should come tell you.”

“What happened?” Rebecca asked, still cold from the news. “How is he?”

“Someone hit him while he was driving his buggy. The horse made it home on its own.” Esther was saying, hesitation in her voice. “He was coming home from here—we think.”

“Did they find the person?” It was the next question that came to Rebecca’s mind, sounding inappropriate to ask, but everything felt inappropriate at the moment.

“No.” Esther shook her head. “It must have been a hit-and-run. He hasn’t recovered consciousness yet—at least that we’ve heard.”

“He’s in West Union,” Mattie volunteered. “I’ll take you down as soon as we can.”

“He was going home from here,” Rebecca said, noticing that her hands were shaking.

“Nearest we can figure.” Esther’s voice sounded strained.