Rebecca's Promise (11 page)

Was it what she had done then? Rebecca searched her memory, letting her mind run where it wanted to. The river came into focus. She saw more flashes of Emma in the schoolhouse and of Atlee, his face delighted at the sight of her.

Holding out his hand to motion for her to come, she saw herself walking beside him. School had been dismissed. The other kids had gone. Walking together was not unusual; after all, they lived in the same direction. He lived a little further down the road than she did.
Most of the time, both their brothers and sisters walked home with them, but at other times, they got to walk alone.

Then there were the Saturday afternoons they played together in the woods, at times wandering as far across the fields as the Moscow covered bridge that spanned the Flatrock River. Those times were rare, she remembered. Mother objected if she was gone too long, even on lazy Saturday afternoons after the work was done.

What was it she had with Atlee? Yes, it was a love they shared. Yet would love cause the way she felt now? There seemed no reason why it would, and yet it was there, springing up with renewed force.

“I can never love him anymore,” she whispered. “He’s gone. Keeping the promise won’t do any good. It will just destroy what I have now.”

Dear God,
she prayed silently,
I don’t know how to let go of something so beautiful that I felt back then. I don’t know how to make myself want to. If loving him was something terrible to do, please forgive me. Just please make this fear go away. I love John and don’t want anything to destroy our love. Please help me.

Tears were in her eyes, and she reached up to wipe them away. The ring sparkled as it moved with her fingers. Walking to the window, she watched the snowflakes swirl by the glass.

Glancing at the ring again, she considered simply throwing it away. She could do it now. This very minute. If someone saw her, no one would think her strange to be walking in the snow. It would be most common and ordinary for her to be enjoying the weather fully. With the ring stuck firmly in her pocket, she could walk down to the little bridge and get rid of the thing forever.

Then she remembered that she was going to Milroy on Saturday. Maybe
that
was the answer. The Lord might already have His plan in place, working through her mother. Aunt Leona’s place was right beside the Flatrock Amish School. Perhaps she could find peace and let go of the past at the very place where she had loved him. The idea burned in her. It was surely God’s answer to her prayer.

It would be good to go back. To see the school. To see where she had made so many good memories. Perhaps in seeing the old again, the glow would lessen, and she could be where she ought to be, by John’s side. Emma, no doubt, would no longer be teaching. She couldn’t be by now. She would be too old. But the memories would be there.

To forever let go,
a voice told her,
that is what you need to do, and there is where it can be done.

Yes,
she decided,
this might be the answer.

In Milroy, among the roads and woods of her childhood, she could let go of a love that no longer fit her heart. A love that would shame and defile her if her dear ones were to ever find out. They must never find out, she resolved. It would hurt them too much, all for nothing and to no gain.

Taking the ring, she carefully placed it back under the pile of dresses in the third drawer.

“I promised,” she whispered at it, “to keep you. So I will, but you must go away soon, and I will no longer be afraid of my heart.”

She smiled to herself, pulling the stack of dresses over the ring, completing the task with one final dress, and spreading it as a thin layer over the top.

As she closed the drawer, everything just missed the top frame, sliding in smoothly. If her mother, by some chance opened this drawer, everything would seem to be like it was supposed to be.
Like my life,
she thought ruefully, opening the door to go downstairs.

L
uke pulled the New Holland out of Emma’s driveway as snowflakes whirled around his head. The last thing he wanted to think about was that large, brown envelope lying on the seat of his buggy, yet, it was the very thought he couldn’t get away from.

What am I supposed to do with it?
he thought to himself, slowing as he came to the main road. Carefully he turned left, then right with his bucket lowered to push all the snow into the ditches. Emma would want things looking neat even in a snowstorm.

Behind him, the flakes were already landing again, quickly piling on top of each other. Luke, in backing away from the road, crunched his tire into the white snowdrift.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked again, this time out loud.

Just mail it,
was the thought that came to mind most readily. He wondered why he didn’t just do that. He liked Emma. Liked her a lot, in fact. She had always been good to him. Paid him on time, even a little extra on the side sometimes. “Don’t tell anyone,” she would say, handing him a twenty or even two of them at a time. Her smile was communication enough, as if she were his fellow conspirator. Both of them knew that until he was twenty-one, all the money he was paid was supposed to go home.

He had felt a little guilty about not mentioning the extra money, but Emma surely knew what was right. The extra she gave him was all stored away in his savings bank—in a tin can in the haymow under the last bale on the side away from the house.

The money was wrapped in plastic, although the tin can had
seemed protection enough. What he really was concerned about was his mother finding out. He doubted very much if she would approve of Emma giving him money to keep on his own. Only if it added to the general household fund, would it be okay. This way it most certainly was not and would likely meet with her disapproval.

A savings account at the bank was out of the question, though Luke vowed he would have one as soon as he turned twenty-one. The money in the tin can would be the opening deposit. Neither his mother nor his father ever need know how much he placed in the first deposit.
Anyone knew,
he had told himself many times,
that savings accounts could be opened with one dollar, if one wished.
It would then remain his secret whether he opened his account with just a few dollars or with many.

So the tin can’s contents came from Emma, secret money stashed away like a pirate stashes his gold in a cave. The thought reminded him of the book on pirates in the school library he had once read. That particular book had lasted only part of one school year. From what he remembered, Emma had brought it in, and most of the boys had passed it around to each other with rave reviews.

Maybe that was why the head of the school board, Herb Mullet, made a surprise visit one afternoon on the pretense of seeing how things were going. Where he spent most of his time, though, was in the library. The long and short of it was that when Herb left that afternoon just before school closed, with several books under his arm, the pirate book must have been among them because it was never seen again.

So now his heart was really for Emma in this matter of the envelope. She always seemed to know what she was doing, and if it really was true that Emma might be giving away all of this to someone other than family, might there be reason for it?

Turning the New Holland around to head back toward the house, he pulled back on the twin levers to bring it to a halt. He sat looking at what lay before him—the old homestead, its white two-story house
muted in the falling snow, and the red barn, its colors deepened from the same effect. This was what was at stake or at least part of what was at stake.

Did he really want to lose this? Not that he had ever really thought of it like this before, his thoughts on money usually rose no higher than the contents of his tin can. That seemed like gobs of money already. He was not totally certain, but at the last count, there had been over five hundred dollars. Even that amount made him stagger.

But this, he shook the snowflakes from his eyes, was really another matter. His mind raced to fit it into a thought he could handle. The farms Emma owned could hardly fit into tin cans. Yet if they could? His mind spun. There must be thousands and thousands of dollars involved. Maybe he ought to reconsider his feelings for Emma if he was about to lose something this big.

Would Emma actually give the farms away to some unknown person and not to him and the rest of the family? He found it hard to imagine. From what his mother said, the money should by all rights go to the family. Would not the Emma he knew, who snuck him money on the side, money she felt he deserved, do the right thing?

Yes, she would. He would stick with Emma for now. This lawyer stuff his mother was worrying about could or could not be true. He would deal with all that later. He would inform his mother about the envelope, but for now he would not open anything belonging to Emma.

If he were to open the envelope, and it should ever come back to Emma, the amount in the little tin can in the haymow might not continue growing, and that would simply be too great a tragedy to chance. The decision then was firmly set.

Roaring the New Holland to full throttle, he headed back up the driveway. Coming to the barn, he parked inside and walked back out to the fence for one last look at the cattle.

If Emma was watching from the house window, she would be impressed with his concern. If she was not, then these were really his
cattle, one way or the other, he figured. He smiled to himself. They really were his, either by the way of his tin can or somehow through the family. Once transferred to the Byler family at Emma’s passing, his mother would see to it that they came to him, he felt certain.

A feeling of contentment and warmth flowed through him, even with the snow falling. Life seemed certain and spelled out now. Poverty was something he would never have to face. Others may fear it, but it would never touch him. He was the relative of a rich Amish woman who was already making him richer than most boys his age, and now his mother was sure to see to it that things got even better. Life was looking real good.

Amish life was the life he wanted—to be, to live, to marry, to have children, and to grow old in the faith.

He stopped as the thought crossed his mind.
Wasn’t it about time to think about marrying? Yes, to marry.
His pulse quickened.
But to whom? Certainly not someone like that Rebecca Keim,
he thought.
How could Mother even have mentioned such a thing? No, I want someone quite unlike that, someone comfortable, lowly, able to live where I live, without the flash of such a high-class life that Rebecca gives off.

She always had been like that, even in school, always too good for some people.
Emma had liked her though.
He frowned at the thought, then allowed that even Emma had her faults. At least Emma had been right about someone else Rebecca always hung around with. He searched his mind for a name, but came up with none. Anyway, Emma hadn’t liked the fellow who had often been seen with Rebecca, probably sweet on her. Rumor was he went Mennonite eventually, or at least his parents did.

Still, Luke had never liked him. There was just something about him. Maybe it was the good grades both he and Rebecca were always getting. They had the gall to actually frown when they
only
achieved a ninety-five percent on a test, something that would have made his own face nearly split with a grin.

Yes, it was surely time that he think about girls and marriage.
Girls.
He laughed into the snowflakes, blowing one off his nose. Then it suddenly occurred to him what he should do. He was seeing it clearly now.

He was beginning to feel what he had been seeing in Susie Burkholder’s eyes. He even blushed out there in the snow, as he let the thoughts of her drift through his mind. Now that they started, it was hard to stop them, even if he had wanted to. The way her hair stuck out from under her head covering. Her hands, her nails cut short, but never showing signs of being chewed. He liked that in a girl. It showed signs of stability instead of a nervous temperament.

Now, with some money stashed away and a farm coming his way, it was high time to make his move. Surprised at how much he already knew about what he wanted, he let his mind take another good look at Susie. Always before, he had ignored the look in her eyes, but now that he allowed himself to consider it, he saw it all. She wanted him, wanted him badly. That she was a little plain didn’t present much of a problem to him. Her eyes more than made up for it, the way they dropped just after he would finally look at her in the singings or at church.