Rebecca's Return (26 page)

“I think so too,” Amman said.

“You’ll let me know then when the hospital bills come in?” Reuben was ready to continue on with his Saturday afternoon.

“Yes.” Amman nodded. “Should be around ten thousand, from what we know so far.”

“I will tell Mose then,” Reuben said. “
Da Hah
will provide.”

“Him and His people—we are most grateful,” Amman let his eyes fall to the concrete barn floor again, adding, “we are unworthy.”

“Yes,” Reuben said, making moves to leave. “All of us are.”

Amman was already pitching manure onto his spreader before Reuben got out of the barn door. The soft thuds from the pitchfork loads sounded in his ear, as he shut the door behind him.

The old driving horse, standing there waiting, lifted its head in weariness when Reuben came out.

Steve Weaver’s place was next on his list. Only a year married to his wife, Becky, the young couple had taken up housekeeping on the old Ben Byler place. It needed lots of repairs, having fallen into a dilapidated state in Ben’s waning years. Ben’s wife had passed away ten years before he did. That left the old man with a sense of wandering. Though Ben never went anywhere, he just visited places in his mind—mainly memories from his young and growing up days.

Ben’s youngest daughter, Rose, who had never married, came home from Wisconsin to take care of her dad until he passed away. The family had then sold the farm to Steve and Becky, and Rose returned to Wisconsin.

Steve and Becky now seemed well capable of doing the extra work the place needed and were turning things around quite smartly. A nice couple, Reuben considered them to be, Becky already well into her first pregnancy.

It did all the ministers good to see the way Steve had turned his life around from only a few years prior. He had given up his wild ways to take a decent wife and get right down to the business of keeping a place, raising a family, and becoming involved in the church.

All of that brought Reuben to the reason for his visit. He was not expecting any trouble. Steve was just not that sort of person. But Bishop Mose had thought something should be said, even with how well Steve was doing. Apparently Steve was still holding on to some of his bad habits, picked up from his wild days.

Bishop Mose had been sure a simple stop on a Saturday afternoon would be enough to solve the matter, and Reuben had agreed. The problem was, Steve still cut his hair.
Thinning it out
was what Reuben thought it was called. No matter what the style was called, it was against church regulations.

Pulling into the driveway, Reuben thought the barn, freshly painted a bright red, a pleasant sight. He pulled up to a new hitching post, placed conveniently at just the right spot for occasions when visitors would come. Certainly not planned for the purpose of a visit from the deacon on a Saturday afternoon, he grinned wryly to himself, but it served the purpose whether anticipated or not.

Tying the old driving horse, Reuben wondered whether to walk toward the house or the barn. There seemed to be no sign of anyone around. His problem was solved when Becky opened the front door, her round form filling the opening.

“He’s in here,” she hollered, assuming it was Steve Reuben was after.

“I made him come in for a lemonade break,” Becky told Reuben, all smiles as he approached. “He works so hard.”

“I can see that,” Reuben told her, the pleasantness of this young family sweeping over him. He didn’t like the news he was bringing to them, but the church’s work must be done, even on a pleasant Saturday afternoon.

“We’re not in trouble?” Becky asked him, holding the door open, not waiting for his reply. “Steve’s in the kitchen.”

“Why would we be in trouble?” Steve asked, apparently not as familiar with Amish customs as his wife was.

That might be because of his wild days,
Reuben thought. “No,” he said, wishing he could talk with Steve by himself. “Just a little matter—no trouble.”

“Then have a seat,” Steve told him. “Lemonade?”

“No—no. I’m fine,” Reuben assured him, taking the offered chair. “I can’t stay long.”

“So there
is
trouble,” Becky said.

Reuben wished she would sit down beside her husband. It would sure make him feel more comfortable, but Becky stayed standing, looking at him, her eyes steady.

“No,” he said again, hoping against hope there weren’t any bad feelings from past deacon visits on Saturday afternoons in Becky’s memory, memories that might be waiting to leap out and pounce on him, the hapless deacon.

“Oh, in that case I’ll sit down,” Becky concluded, pulling out a chair and lowering her swollen body gingerly onto it.

“It’s this month,” Steve said, obvious joy in his voice.

“Yes,” Reuben agreed, feelings of pleasantness returning a little. “You are both doing well?”

“That we are,” Steve agreed, while Becky only smiled, more relaxed now.

He cleared his throat. “The ministry is very pleased with how you are coming along with church life,” he stated, trying to smooth the path and wishing he didn’t have to continue.

“Yes,” Becky said, not looking at Steve but at Reuben.

He squirmed in his seat, deciding to get this over quickly. “There is no trouble, just a concern,” Reuben said, keeping his eyes on the table top. Neither of them was saying anything, so he plunged on. “We’re happy—what with your past.” He paused to catch his breath, which was coming harder than he wished.

“Yes?” Steve said this time, puzzlement on his face.

“They have something against you,” Becky said, filling him in. “You’re doing something they don’t like.”

“No—no,” Reuben said quickly, and then, “well, yes, but it’s nothing serious.” Neither Becky nor Steve said anything.

“You see, your hair, it’s not supposed to be thinned out.” Reuben just blurted it out. “We thought it might be a habit from your former days,” he said, clearing his throat to give the words their proper meaning, “which you were unaware was against the
ordnung.
”

“He cuts his own hair,” Becky said, concerned now, looking Steve’s hair over. “I never noticed anything.”

“Why,” Steve answered, running his hand across his head, his fingers combing his hair from front to back, “I just thin it out a little. Always did.”

“That’s what we thought,” Reuben said quickly. “We figured you didn’t notice.”

“I guess you do thin it out at that,” Becky said, looking at Steve’s hair again. “You’d better let me cut it from now on. I’ve wanted to anyway.”

“I guess I’d better,” Steve allowed slowly. “I didn’t know.”

“That’s what we thought,” Reuben assured him, breathing easier now.

“I’ll make sure he gets it right from now on,” Becky said, running her fingers through Steve’s hair. “I guess he does things to it—just never noticed.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve was all apologies now.

“Does he need to do anything?” Becky asked.

“No,” Reuben said quickly. “We figured it was an accident, but it leaves a bad example for the young boys. They notice such things.”

“What would I have to do?” Steve asked in Becky’s direction instead of Reuben’s.

“Oh,” Becky said, wrinkling her brow, “maybe a confession at pre-communion church.”

“No,” Reuben said even quicker this time, “that’s not necessary. The ministry is so appreciative of how you’re doing.”

“See?” Becky was smiling now, running her fingers through Steve’s hair again. “You’re doing okay. He works so hard,” she said in Reuben’s direction.

“Yes, I can see that,” Reuben assured them. “We’re thankful for that. But now I must be going.”

“No lemonade?” Steve questioned, trying again.

“I have another stop,” Reuben said, then wished he hadn’t. It wasn’t good to share church plans with others.

They made no attempt to rise, so Reuben stood, leaving them sitting there. The picture of the two—such good sound church members and so obedient—stayed with him until he pulled into Ezra’s driveway.

Ezra was washing his buggy in front of his storage garage, which Reuben thought was a little foolish for someone his age, but this was his wife’s brother, so he kept his thoughts to himself. The matter he had come for would be difficult enough.

“On your Saturday rounds.” Ezra grinned from ear to ear, as if he were sharing an uncomfortable secret. “Rachel wanted you to stop by for something.”

Reuben didn’t comment on that because Ezra didn’t know how right he was with his guess.

Not used to a lot of words from his brother-in-law, Ezra didn’t find Reuben’s silence surprising. “Elizabeth’s in the house,” he said, apparently assuming Reuben wanted something from her for Rachel.

Sitting inside his buggy and not wanting to get out unless it was completely necessary, Reuben cleared his throat. Because Ezra was right here, his garden hose in hand, they might as well have this conversation from where he sat instead of standing on the ground. “I came to talk with you,” he managed, raising his voice to make sure it carried all the way over to Ezra.

“With me?” Ezra couldn’t have looked more surprised.

“It’s just a little matter,” Reuben assured him. “Easily cleared up—I’m sure.”

“Really?” Ezra didn’t look happy at all, as he walked over to Reuben’s buggy door, leaving his garden hose on the ground.

“It’s really nothing,” Reuben said.

“Then why are you here?” Ezra asked the obvious.

“It’s just a little thing,” Reuben said quickly.

“Did Mose send you?” Ezra asked.

There was no way Reuben was going to answer that question. “It’s not much,” he said instead.

“So what is it?” Ezra placed his hand on the buggy side wall, waiting.

“You were seen using your tractor to pull the hay wagon back to the fields—this fall.” Reuben wished he could make his voice louder, but it wasn’t working quite right at the moment.

“So?” Ezra wasn’t looking at the ground.

“It’s against the
ordnung,
” Reuben told him. “You know that.”

“Maybe.” Ezra still wasn’t looking down. “I just did it once.”

“It’s a bad example for the young people,” Reuben replied, searching for the high ground and noting that Ezra’s bold, direct eye contact indicated the conversation was not going well.

“Maybe,” Ezra allowed again, “but no one saw me—except family.” A suspicious gleam turned in his eye.

“You shouldn’t have done it.” Reuben was trying to keep the conversation going in the right direction.

“Rachel wouldn’t have anything to do with this?” Ezra’s eyes were not happy.

“You shouldn’t have done it,” Reuben repeated himself.

“Maybe we’d better just forget this.” Ezra moved his hand downward on the buggy. The sound made a smooth rasping—a gentle yet insisting sort of noise.

“It’s a bad example for the young people.” Reuben was not about to be caught backing down. Ezra would be sure to pass the matter around if he did.
Backed right down,
he could hear Ezra telling the story.
Just come and talk to me when you need to know what to say,
Ezra would add with a chuckle.

No, there could be no backing down now that he was committed. “I would advise a confession next pre-communion church.” Reuben dropped his ace line. “You wouldn’t want this matter getting any bigger than it already is.”

Ezra laughed, not seeming to be offended at all.

He is that way,
Reuben thought,
confident and careful in all he does.

“Well, we’ll just leave it like it is. You and Mose and I. It’ll probably all work out, don’t you think?”

Reuben wasn’t sure about anything at the moment, so he said nothing, keeping his eyes straight ahead while he thought of a proper response.

“What’s Rachel up to anyway?” Ezra asked. “She’s not usually like that.”

“She’s expecting again,” Reuben said, figuring Ezra might come to the same conclusion he had.

“Still doesn’t explain it.” Ezra shook his head. “If you can’t trust family anymore—what’s the world coming to?”

“You still shouldn’t have done it,” Reuben told him, refusing to let the matter go.

“How about I talk to Mose tomorrow?” Ezra suggested more than asked. “Maybe we can get this matter cleared up right and proper.”