Rebecca's Promise (19 page)

Rebecca nodded, keeping her eyes straight ahead.

“I’ve been thinking more about it lately,” Mary’s voice took on a confessional tone. “There’s a real nice local man in Haiti. Converted by the mission when he was younger. His wife died last year. I thought I saw something in his eyes the last time I was down there. Set me thinking about it.”

Rebecca’s eyes must have become as big as saucers because Mary laughed out loud when she saw them.

“A
native?
” The question just popped out of Rebecca’s mouth.

“Yes. Why not?” Mary said. “They’re people just like us.”

“Ah.” Rebecca wasn’t certain of that at all. “They don’t look like us.”

“No. They don’t. But they live and die like us.”

“But
marrying
one…do you think that’s wise?”

“Well,” Mary tilted her head and replied, “that’s a good point, I suppose. They’re so poor down there. His name is Marcus.” Mary paused to glance at Rebecca.

She nodded. “The name sounds usual.”

“He pastors one of the local church groups from the mission. I guess that makes him one of the upper crust down there. That’s all fine and good until you compare it to American standards. Then it all changes. Not that I think myself better than them. Not at all. It’s just that I’m used to things. Refrigerators. Electricity. Cars. Washing machines. All of that.”

Not used to thinking along those lines, Rebecca just lifted her shoulders in puzzlement. It was a world removed from any she knew.

Mary continued, “I suppose he might want to live like I do. Unless I want to live like he does, which would be an option, I guess. I think if I want to marry him, I should live down there with him.”

“You think you could do that?” Rebecca asked.

“That’s the big question. I must say,” Mary said rolling her eyes, “it does hold its fascinations, don’t you think?”

Rebecca let the breath out that she had been unconsciously holding. “What a complicated world.”

“That it is…but then it isn’t,” Mary allowed. “We just need to find our way. Or the Lord’s way actually.”

“That’s true,” Rebecca said, thinking of the ring in her suitcase. That was nothing quite like this, but she still needed God’s help. She needed a way through it. But a schoolgirl crush had to be easier than deciding whether to marry such a strange person from a completely different culture. She took a deep breath at the very thought of it.

“You think…Marcus…is serious then?” Rebecca asked.

“Yes,” Mary said.

They drove along in silence for a few minutes, each lost in her own thoughts.

“Hey, I never expected to say all that,” Mary finally spoke up. “This has been a pleasant surprise. I think the Lord sent you along to brighten my day.”

“I don’t know about that,” Rebecca said quickly, again astonished at how easily Mary assumed the Almighty’s plans and her particular place in it.

“You think we should stop for lunch?” Mary asked, glancing at her watch.

“I don’t know.” Rebecca was not particularly hungry. “Can we make it to Milroy before twelve?”

Mary did the calculations in her head. “I don’t think so. Besides,
no one knows exactly when to be expecting us. They won’t have lunch ready.”

“That’s true,” Rebecca said.

“Hey,” Mary hollered toward the back of the van. “You want to stop for lunch?”

After some quick consultations, the answer “Yes” was hollered back by Elmer.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

“There’s an Applebee’s up ahead.”

Again the quick consultations and a “That’s fine” came from Elmer.

Mary began to slow down.

She grinned and said, “That was quick enough,” as she took the next exit and pulled into the Applebee’s parking lot.

A
n hour later they were on the road again.

When the hum of conversation started behind their seats, Mary asked, “So what’s your fellow like?”

Rebecca, not quite used to this direct approach, blushed again. “John works at his uncle’s business on Wheat Ridge.”

“So what does he look like?”

Rebecca hesitated. This experience was unnerving, but she decided it would be rude not to answer the question. “Well, he’s taller than me,” she began. “A little lighter haired. Although not blond. His hair curls when it’s wet.” She then laughed at how easy it came out.

“Oh! So how do you know that?”

“Well, it rains, you know.” Rebecca blushed seriously now, not believing she was telling someone this. “We were getting ready to leave from church. The wind blew his hat off when he was hitching up the horse. I saw the hat roll across the yard.” She chuckled. “Thankfully, his horse stood still while he ran after the hat. When we got in the buggy, I could tell. The edges curled where they stuck out from under his hat.”

“So you like him?” Mary asked.

“Yes,” Rebecca replied, “a lot, I think.”

“He’s Amish, of course.”

“Most certainly!” Rebecca said. “Mom and Dad wouldn’t want me dating someone who wasn’t.”

Mary raised her eyebrows. “Have you ever thought of doing that?”

“No!” was her instinctual response.

“Did you ever want to?”

Why did Mary have to ask so many questions?
“Well, I’ve never really considered it. Besides, I really do like John. More than any other man I’ve ever met.”

“That’s a good enough reason,” Mary allowed. “So you’re going to marry him?”

“Yes, I hope so.” She felt a blush threatening again.

“That certainly makes things easier,” Mary said a little wistfully.

“You ever think of marrying a Mennonite boy?” Rebecca asked, thinking she might need nudging in that direction.

“I have. It’s too boring, somehow. Maybe I just haven’t met the right boy. Although it’s getting a little late for that.”

“Well, marrying a native would sure be something,” Rebecca allowed. “I’m not sure ‘exciting’ is the right word. ‘Different,’ maybe.”

“A challenge,” Mary said. “A real challenge. I would need all of the Lord’s help I could get. Plus, if it’s love, it would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?”

“Like between me and John?” Rebecca asked, then blushed deeply at her own words. Feeling a need to explain it, she added, “I like him a lot, I guess.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Mary assured her. “I just hope I feel like that someday. You know, all certain and fussy.”

Rebecca smiled at the image, not sure it fit her, but unoffended.

An hour or so later, Mary announced, “Looks like we’re here. There’s the sign for Milroy. Where shall I drop you off?”

“On through Milroy,” Rebecca said, watching the familiar farmland from her youth roll by. “A few miles on the other side. You turn left onto 500.”

The first buildings in Milroy came into Rebecca’s view with the memories associated with them: the gas station where she would go with her dad to buy kerosene for the farm, the post office where Mattie
would take her when they had packages to mail, and the little grocery store on the other end of town where they would shop sometimes. Their major shopping had been done in Rushville, where things were cheaper. Here and there a few Christmas decorations were up on the buildings, their red, green, and blue lights turned off in the daytime.

Rebecca was silent as she watched the passing landscape, the memories coming thick and heavy. A buggy passed them, but Rebecca couldn’t see who was in it.
Probably wouldn’t know them anyway,
she told herself.

“You know this area?” Mary asked, watching Rebecca.

“I grew up around here,” Rebecca said. “Went to school just ahead.” She pointed as the Flatrock Amish schoolhouse came into view. “We need to turn here.”

Across the field, the schoolhouse’s white siding was shining in the sun, its yard, with the softball field out back, empty.

Memories of days from long ago came rushing in…games she had played in this very place, and, of course, memories of Atlee. She could see him even now, swinging his bat and running to first base.

“You went to school there?” Mary looked across the fields, as she turned left onto 500. “They have some of those schools at home. I never attended, though…and I always wondered what it would be like.”

“Depends on the teacher, as much as anything, I think.” Rebecca turned her head for one last look as they drove past. She could almost see Emma in the doorway, vigorously swinging the bell after the noon hour.

Then breaking her reverie, a shiver went through her as she remembered what she must do while she was here.
Why had my promise never bothered me while we were living here? It was surely John’s proposal that brought it all back.

“You had a good teacher?” Mary asked.

“Yes. I did for the last seven years at least. Her name was Emma,”
Rebecca said almost reverently. “I plan to look her up, if I have time. I haven’t seen her since we moved. Not much before that either, except at church. It’s funny how you miss people more once they aren’t around.”

Mary nodded. “How true. That’s why we should remember to value those closest to us. They are the ones we will miss the most once they’re gone.”

“Turn left here. The house on the left. That little white one.”

“Stephen & Leona Troyer,” Mary read aloud the name on the mailbox as she pulled in.

“My uncle and aunt,” Rebecca said.

“Is this where Rebecca gets off?” Elmer hollered from the back.

Rebecca answered by opening her door and stepping down. There didn’t seem to be anyone around.

Mary opened the back of the van and gave Rebecca her suitcase.

“Thanks for the ride. I guess I need to pay you for my share.”

“Sure.” Mary knew the routine. Taxi service came by the mile, divided by the number of passengers. Pulling out a notepad, she walked up to the van door, checked the odometer, and made calculations. After telling Rebecca the amount, Rebecca paid Mary from the money her mother had given her. The payment made a small dent in the sum, which would have to last throughout her time spent in Milroy.

“Thanks,” Rebecca repeated.

“It was good to talk with you. Maybe we’ll meet again sometime.”

“I hope so,” Rebecca said, meaning it. “If you’re here for church tomorrow, maybe I’ll see you then.”

After Mary left, Rebecca took a long look at the house before walking toward the front door. The single-story ranch home was English built. Leona and Stephen had purchased it ten years ago. Apparently it had been a good deal, or Stephen would not have bought it. English property was purchased with the full realization that it would take money and effort to convert it to Amish usability.

Stephen had since turned off the electric power at the transformer at the end of the driveway and taken down the main electric lines. On the inside of the house, he left all the switches and plugs alone. The result was a slightly English looking home, both inside and out, but still within the
ordnung.

Rebecca knocked on the front door, waited a minute, and knocked again. The sound of footsteps came faintly from inside, followed by the door opening and her uncle standing there.

“Oh! It’s you,” Stephen said. “Good to see you.” He smiled a welcome, stepping aside so she could enter.

Stephen was tall and thin like her father. Leona, on the other hand, was unlike her sister, much more on the plump side.

“Leona’s in bed,” Stephen said. “She’s not been well the past few days. Fannie took the children last night, just to give us some relief and quiet around here. She’ll bring them back late tonight.”

“Did Leona get the letter from Mom saying that I was coming?”

“On Wednesday,” he said. “That was one of the reasons we took the offer from Fannie. She will take the children again during the baby’s delivery. Go on now and see your aunt. She’s been waiting.”

As Rebecca reached the door of the bedroom, Leona’s weak voice greeted her. “I’m so glad you could come, Rebecca.”