Rebecca's Return (22 page)

Isaac remembered the words from Scripture, that one was to remove the beam from one’s own eyes before trying to remove the splinter from another’s eyes. He hung his head over the realization of his own shortcomings.

He was approaching the town, and he turned his attention to driving the buggy. The gelding proved to be okay, as they navigated the West Union streets, pulling up to the same streetlight he had used last night.

If this is from the hand of the Lord because of our sin, then there is nothing we can do until His anger is satisfied.
Isaac climbed out of the buggy, sorrow heavy on his heart for what might lie ahead.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-SEVEN

A
fter prayers, Mattie and Rebecca got up to go get ready but were delayed when ten-year-old Katie, pale in her face, told Mattie she was afraid of being left alone.

“Is it the kitchen—the dishes?” Mattie asked, looking at Katie. “Being left with them by yourself?”

Katie nodded. “The little girls will make nothing but trouble, and I don’t know where all the things go.”

“They’d better behave.” Mattie looked severely at the little faces seated in the living room. “Viola will help with the dishes. Martha and Ada can dry them.”

All heads nodded solemnly, even little Ada, who was too small to have a clue what she was nodding about. Katie, though, looked unconvinced.

“It’s expecting a lot from her,” Rebecca said, remembering her own feelings at that age. “A lot can go wrong. Dad and Matthew will be back in the woods.”

As if to confirm her words, she watched Lester drive the team of horses out the barnyard gate. Matthew was hanging onto the back of the rattling wagon. The chainsaw and oil and gas cans bounced around but were held in by the wagon sideboards.

“But John…” Mattie said, watching the two through the living room window.

“I can wait,” Rebecca said resolutely. “I’m worried, but this is important.”

Her mother had looked strangely at her but left it at that, rushing about, putting actions to work instead of words. With all four girls helping as much as they could, they tackled the kitchen.

Viola let a plate slip. It crashed to the floor, the pieces flying all over the place. Instead of scolding her, Mattie immediately seated the weeping girl on the kitchen bench until she could calm down.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Rebecca assured her sister. “Things like that happen.”

Mattie silently nodded her agreement, which caused the tears to cease much quicker than Rebecca’s words alone would have.

Martha, though, couldn’t resist “She should be more careful. Breaking dishes is expensive.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Viola snapped. “It slipped—right through my hand.”

“You could have hung on more tightly,” Martha said.

“See what I mean about the younger girls?” Katie said.

“She does seem to have been right,” Rebecca agreed, scraping the gravy into a plastic bowl.

“I see my parenting isn’t done yet,” Mattie said wearily.

“Is it ever?” Rebecca asked, feeling irked with her sisters, knowing it was not entirely their fault.

With the kitchen finally under control and her mother giving final instructions to her sisters, Rebecca had gone out to catch the horse. They would need the younger black mare for the trip. Their older driving horse might handle the long drive, but there was no sense putting it to the test when a younger horse was available.

Not everyone was able to keep two driving horses, but Lester insisted on it, even when money got a little tight, as it had last year just before the fall harvest. Lester claimed they could actually use three driving horses. Mattie had nixed that idea in the bud. Two horses were plenty and enough, in her mind, to have to pay the upkeep on.

When Rebecca opened the door to the barnyard, the black mare had its own ideas. It threw its head in the air, acting as if it was reading Rebecca’s thoughts on the upcoming long haul into West Union. When Rebecca approached it, the horse took off for the back pasture, kicking its heels into the air as if to show complete contempt for any travel plans.

This required a weary trudge after the horse, halter in hand. Apparently the run had taken all the foolishness out of the horse because it now hung its head, meekly accepting the halter once Rebecca reached it.

Rebecca felt like giving the mare a good tongue-lashing but decided not to. Even a horse must be a horse once in a while, she figured. The real reason, though, for her restraint, was one she did not wish to admit even to herself. She too felt like running away—away from town, away from the hospital. She wanted to see John but not in this condition. Like a heavy blanket, the emotion hung over her.

Rebecca marched back to the barn, tugging on the halter when the mare slowed. “You’re going,” she said firmly, “just like I am. Me because I love the boy, and you because you are told to.”

Pushing her thoughts aside, she hastened to harness the mare. Mattie rushed to help at the last moment. “We’re so late already. I’m so sorry, Rebecca,” she said all breathless.

“That’s okay,” Rebecca told her quickly. “I want to see John, but it’s going to be hard.”

“You’re being so good about this. If Lester had been in the hospital…when we were promised. There’s no way—no way—I would have helped clean up the house like you just did.”

Rebecca felt guilty but told herself she was not putting words into her mother’s mouth. Her mother was saying these things without any help from her.

“And now the mare runs to the back pasture. How they know that they have a long pull ahead of them, I never could tell.” Mattie started placing the tug strap on its side, pushing hard until the latch clinked into place. “At least we’re on our way now.”

Rebecca waited until her mother was inside the buggy with a firm hand on the reins before she let go of the bridle and climbed in herself. Once they were on the way, the mare simply plodded along, her earlier friskiness gone.

“No rush…once we’re on the road,” Mattie said sarcastically.

“It didn’t want to go to town.” Rebecca stuck up for the horse, knowing she hadn’t wanted to go either.

“No excuse for not doing one’s duty,” Mattie retorted, obviously speaking about the horse but including Rebecca.

After a few moments of silence, Mattie noted, “Rebecca, you’re sure taking this well.”

“I’m trying.” Rebecca covered her bases truthfully.

“He may be hurt bad,” Mattie said, in a lower tone of voice. “You have thought of that, haven’t you?”

“I know.” Rebecca now felt tears pressing, knowing she had been keeping those fears back too.

“I had hoped so,” Mattie told her. “It might be best to be well-prepared.”

“Could it really be that bad?” Rebecca ventured, reaching for hope.

“Only
Da Hah
knows. But thrown that far…many have been paralyzed for life.” Mattie just blurted it out, letting the words hang in the air.

There was silence in the buggy. The only sound was that made by the wheels humming on the pavement.

“You’ll have to be faithful to him, regardless,” Mattie said, her voice firm. “One must not forsake a promise because of something like this.”

The dread of it all filled Rebecca. She felt her mother’s eyes on her but couldn’t do more than squeeze her own eyes against the tears.

“It would be
Gottes villa.
” Her mother approached the subject from another angle. “A promise is a promise—for better or worse.”

“But I’m not married to him,” Rebecca said, speaking the words without thinking, the thought suddenly occurring to her.

“But we must be faithful,” Mattie told her. “If unfaithfulness starts now, where will it end?”

“Wouldn’t faithfulness start when you’re married? That’s when you promise for better or worse.” Rebecca couldn’t believe she was saying this.

“Faithfulness to a promise starts with what you’ve already told him—that you’d marry him. You shouldn’t change that just because he’s hurt.”

“No matter how bad?” Rebecca felt like she was sliding off a cliff but couldn’t stop herself. “I guess it’s all a little too much at the moment. But I do love him.”

“It’ll look better—maybe once you see him,” Mattie said reassuringly. “Our people don’t forsake each other just because they get hurt. John will need you now more than before.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-EIGHT

B
efore turning right and driving toward the center of Unity, Mattie slowed down. “This is where it happened—I think,” she said quietly.

Rebecca felt no desire to stop, hoping her mother didn’t either. To her the place had a gruesome feeling surrounding it. Finally, glancing out of her side of the buggy, she looked around but could see nothing in the ditch.

“It’s over here.” Her mother motioned with her head toward small pieces of wood and black oil cloth lying in the yard. “The house must be over there.”

Looking, Rebecca shivered, almost seeing John flying through the air.

“They cleaned up pretty good,” her mother noted, letting the reins out again. The mare shook its head, as if sorry they weren’t coming to a complete stop. Turning right on Unity Road, Mattie and Rebecca were each lost in her own thoughts.

Once in West Union, Mattie found the correct street and pulled into the hospital parking lot.

Seeing another buggy tied up, Rebecca said, “Looks like someone’s already here.”

“Isaac, I’m sure. I wish we weren’t so late.”

“We can just tell them what happened if they ask.”

“I’m not offering an excuse. Sometimes that just makes it worse.”

“You don’t have to, Mom,” Rebecca said, trying again. “They’ll understand.” For some reason she was certain she was right. Not that she knew John’s parents that well, but on this point she was confident.

“I guess you know them better than I do,” Mattie allowed.

The receptionist greeted them with a “Good morning. May I help you?”

“We’re looking for John Miller’s room,” Mattie said.

“Oh, the Amish boy,” she responded with a smile. “He’s still in room 201. That way.” She nodded toward the hall.

Rebecca followed her mother, feeling like the walls were getting smaller the farther they went. She must be strong, she told herself, for her mother’s sake if nothing else. To shame Mattie in front of the Miller family by running back out to the buggy as she felt like doing, would be horrible.

Rebecca forced herself to stop thinking about the hospital. Room 201 was coming next. Mattie’s brisk step slowed as they approached, her hand reaching for the knob, the door already ajar. She gently pushed the door inward.

Behind her, Rebecca couldn’t see what her mother was seeing, but Mattie nodded her head, indicating someone must be in the room other than John. “Good morning,” Mattie said softly.

It was clearly Isaac’s voice that echoed the greeting as they stepped inside. Miriam was standing in front of the hospital bed, both hands on the rail of the bed, where John’s still form lay. She hadn’t turned around yet. Isaac had his hands behind him, clasping them lightly, his face turned in their direction.

He looked grave, the air heavy in the room.

“It’s Rebecca,” Isaac whispered to Miriam.

“Oh.” Miriam acted startled, as if she were expecting it to be someone else.

“Good morning,” Rebecca said, to say something.

“I thought it was the nurse,” Miriam said softly. “It’s been a long night.”

“She stayed all night in the waiting room,” Isaac added, his eyes piercing as he looked intently at Rebecca.

His look made her freeze inside, made her wish even more that she was not here.
What am I supposed to do in this situation? Cry? Go touch John with everyone watching?
She felt completely at a loss, but since motion still seemed to be in her power, she moved forward. Doing so she saw the intent gleam in Isaac’s eyes soften.