Rebecca's Promise (29 page)

She gasped, her breath barely coming. Then slowly, she had reached out, her fingers brushing his as she took the ring. “Yes, I promise,” she said in the rush of her emotions, so quietly she hoped he would hear… hoped that she had actually spoken the words.

She now knew she had loved this boy with everything in her heart. That there was no corner of it she would not have given to him. She
had seen the years, the miles of life stretching out, and knew she had wanted to walk them with him. She had known it with every fiber of her beating sixth-grade heart.

She also knew her breath was barely coming any more as the running water in front of her came into focus again. Forcing herself to breathe, she lifted her face skyward as the tears came.

I
t seemed to Rebecca that time was standing still on the banks of the Flatrock River. The trees above her, stripped of their leaves, were her silent witnesses. Rebecca now knew why she was afraid. It was because she had loved, and loved with all of her heart.

She hadn’t asked for it, hadn’t searched for its embrace, nor longed for its agonies. It had come unbidden and taken its place without her ever having been aware of it. Yet, when it came to her, she hadn’t asked it to leave or barred it from staying. Instead, she had promised.

This was her sin, her transgression. Was there forgiveness for it? She contemplated the thought. Her mother and Leona would understand if she told them. They would think it a thing of the imagination, a fancy of the youthful heart.

John, whom she had barely thought of, would easily overlook this too. His soft brown eyes would hardly be troubled with a schoolgirl crush, as he would call it. She could almost hear his laughter, as if she were telling him a silly story, hardly worth mentioning.

No, what she was afraid of was her own heart. Could it forget? Could it believe that better things were ahead? Having once given all, could it give as much again? Could it ever really make place for another? She had thought so. That was why she had forgotten Atlee and turned her love to John. But now she was no longer sure.

How could something so sacred, so pure, so all-giving have gone away, driven like the leaves before the wind? Why had she lost this? Did God know something she didn’t? Was Atlee really coming?

Her mind searched vainly for an answer, perplexed in its search. Was there anyone she could talk to? Anyone who would really understand?

The wind blew softly in the trees above her, the warm sun reaching down between the bare branches. Yet it hardly reached her where she needed it the most. And what of God? Did He really know her heart? He must for He had made it. He made everything…and if so, then He too had made this love.

Feeling weak she thought of her sandwich, the hunger in her body distasteful at the moment. Searching the riverbank, she found the grass still thick enough to sit on. She finally sat down and ate her sandwich, its bread dry in her mouth. She let the surroundings hold her—the stream with its water in a hurry to move on, the rattle of a car crossing the Moscow bridge.

“You said you’d come,” Rebecca said softly, “when I turned twenty-one—you said we’d meet here. You promised.” She whispered, “Today I’m twenty-one. I’ve returned and kept my promise.”

Then it occurred to her that it was Atlee arriving in the car on the bridge. Surely he had remembered. He was coming, and this was no longer something in her heart or her head but in front of her, right here in plain sight.

Rebecca stood up, waiting, listening to the sound of the automobile clattering across the covered bridge.
Atlee was coming…but then what if it wasn’t Atlee? What if it was just some local farmer who would wonder what an Amish girl was doing out here all by herself?

She hardly could tell the farmer the real reason—if he stopped to ask. She hardly could tell herself that she had come here because long ago she loved a boy and was now waiting for him to return. It had been eight years since she had heard from or seen him, but they promised to meet each other on her twenty-first birthday.

Her anticipation and excitement were fast fading away. What had seemed like a good idea—one she couldn’t go on without knowing the answer to—no longer seemed so grand. With this birthday she
was of age, now considered an adult and capable of making her own decisions. The sudden reality of it was staring her in the face.

She gathered her courage. Atlee had said twenty-one because he hadn’t wanted to force his hand and make her choose while her parents were still her guardians. His consideration of her and the foresight that had taken still moved her deeply, but now differently.

This was a love she could not treat lightly. The emotions from only moments before were now turning into the present-day Atlee and the Mennonite world he represented. Their weight was heavy on her.

To love the Atlee who was coming, to take that wild leap, now shook her deeply. This moment was not quite as she had imagined it, the whole experience disconcerting and unsettling.

The approaching car was driving a thought toward her with an intensity directly associated with its nearness. She could hear the car slow down as it exited the bridge. Atlee. Would she even recognize him? His face, once so soft in its first hint of maturity, would now be hardened into early manhood. There might be a beard or a shadow of one on his face, if he had followed his parents into the world of the Mennonites. He would be different certainly. Where he had been a boy, now there would be the look of that other world in his eyes—the world of men—where they often walked alone, walked in their strength, and walked with the desire to pull what they loved into their orbit.

She shivered. If it was him—Atlee—then that would mean he had been waiting all these years for her, had planned and was now implementing his singular love for her; perhaps having turned down other girls while thinking of her and waiting to meet her this morning.

That she had taken a different path in life was apparent, but that was not what loomed so large in her eyes. It was
his
waiting,
his
preparation for this visit. These thoughts rose like a mighty mountain. This would not be a small matter anymore.

Flattering as Atlee’s return would be, it was now frightening in its implications. If this was Atlee, then this was it. There would be
no turning back. She was as good as Mennonite and married to him. Saying “No” was an option completely removed. Atlee might not demand it from her, even with the immense love he would obviously have, but she would demand it of herself.

Rebecca saw she had come to a place she had not thought to go. Her motives had been wrapped in innocence, but this wouldn’t spare her now. The love of such a man would be a steel band pulling her in and demanding, not by words but by its very existence, her complete loyalty.

She gasped as she saw the driver. He looked toward her and slowed the car. His hair was black. His face appeared young, but she couldn’t quite see his eyes.

As the car came to a stop, the driver rolled down his window and called out, “Can I help you?” His voice reached her, the face of the young man now appearing clearly. “Do you need a lift?”

“Atlee,” she said because that was all she could think to say, caught up in the intensity of her feelings.

“Atlee,” he repeated, his face puzzled. “No…Derrick. I live back in town.”

Dimly comprehending her mistake, she felt the red rush to her face. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else,” she said. “I’m visiting my aunt up the road. Leona Troyer.”

“Oh,” he responded, letting a smile spread across his face, “she lives next to Mrs. Spencer, my aunt.”

She nodded, not believing how stupid she had let herself sound to this strange boy from town. English too.

He grinned now. “I’m not this…what did you say? Atlee? But maybe I could be for a Friday night, unless he’s your Amish boyfriend?”

“No,” she said, shocked at his boldness.

“To the date, or to Atlee the boyfriend?” he asked, leaning out his window.

“Both,” she said. “I’m engaged.”

“But it’s not Atlee?” he asked, chuckling.

Now her confusion was turning to irritation.

He grinned, reading her face. “Well, even the Amish have their troubles, I see. You want a ride up to Leona’s?”

“No,” she told him, “I’ll walk.”

“As you wish.” He rolled the window halfway up and then stopped. “If you change your mind, let my aunt know. I’m good for a night at the movies.”

She found herself glaring at him as he grinned, finished rolling up his window, and slowly accelerated the car until he disappeared behind the trees around the bend.

With him gone, the fear and the irritation left too, all in one big rush it seemed, leaving her weak and trembling. The urge to run from this place came upon her, but she didn’t have the strength. Glancing around, afraid more cars might be coming, she was desperate to appear more normal. Walking up the road would appear normal, but it was out of the question at the moment.

Gone were any thoughts that Atlee might still be appearing. Pressing in on her was the certainty that all boys and men were surely defective. The thought must have been forming for some time, but now it bloomed with full strength and conviction. The brash young nephew of Mrs. Spencer had only confirmed the fact.

Atlee had promised and wasn’t coming. How utterly stupid of her to even have thought it possible. She had made an absolute fool out of herself, waiting by this bridge like a schoolgirl dreamer. No doubt Atlee was already married to a beautiful woman and had children—having completely forgotten about her.

Rebecca would have left right then and there and marched up the road, but her legs still felt like they wouldn’t carry her. She would have to wait a while to go back to Leona’s. She just couldn’t go back now. Her face would surely give away her foolishness. Instead, she found the rock where she used to sit while waiting for Atlee to finish checking his traps.

It was there, looking out over the rushing waters of the Flatrock
River, that the memories came again. How could they not? She saw him, as if it had been yesterday, bending over the edge of the bank, his black hair falling into his eyes, his look triumphant as he pulled a muskrat out of his trap.

He would look at the prize, then at her. First to glory in his catch but then to glory in her, his eyes shining with delight. He had loved her then, and she him. That it was a young love did not diminish the memory. She wept for herself and for the past with its hopes now dashed at her feet.
It was all a little too much to bear. No one should be asked to continue hoping when the object was just pulled away. What signs were there to say things would change?
None that she could see.

The thoughts came as thick as the tears, as she let them both flow. Another car, and then another, passed over the bridge, but she failed to notice them. Images of her life ahead of her rose in her mind. She saw herself going back to Wheat Ridge, marrying John, growing old with him, but could she ever love again?

Of course, she reminded herself, this decision still had its options open.
I don’t
have
to marry John. Or anyone for that matter. Emma was single, so why couldn’t I be single? Why not just go through life like that? Emma seemed to be perfectly happy and content. Yes, that is something I could do. I could be a schoolteacher, of which there is always a pressing need in the parochial schools. I could teach all my life, just as Emma had done.

The tears stopped. She thought for a moment more, and then with resolution in her step, she walked to the water’s edge and pulled the ring from her apron pocket. She took one last glance at it and threw it into the rushing water. It landed with a soft
plunk
and was gone.

Behind her an automobile drew to a stop, the slowing sound drawing her attention, pulling the air out of her lungs. When she heard the car door open, she dared not look.