Rebecca's Promise (37 page)

“She just did,” James said loudly. “It crunched. Missy looks scared.”

“Probably feels guilty,” Rebecca remarked, with a little vengeance in her voice. She led the horse to its stall, gave it a scoop of oats, and then opened the stall door to the outside barnyard.

Leroy and James had disappeared from the haymow opening, apparently to watch the last of the mouse disappear. Rebecca smiled and walked toward the house.
Nothing like life as an education.

“You see anything of Leroy and James?” Leona asked when Rebecca walked into the living room. Hampers of freshly collected wash sat in front of Leona, as she sat folding them.

“They’re watching Missy eat a mouse.”

Leona laughed. “Real boys. You’re back from Emma’s early.”

“I thought I took too long,” Rebecca said apologetically, glancing at the clock on the living room wall. “I guess it’s not as late as I thought.”

“I told you to take all the time you needed.”

Rebecca shrugged. “I’m just so glad I got to go. Emma is so wise.”

“I suppose so,” Leona said dryly.

Rebecca caught the tone in her voice. “Oh, nothing against you. It’s just different, I guess. I always liked Emma when I was in school.”

“Teachers often have a special place,” Leona agreed. “Aunts too. But don’t worry. I wasn’t serious—just tired I guess.”

Rebecca gave Leona a long, hard look. “Should I be going home already? Mom will let me stay longer, if you need me. I’m sure of that.”

“No,” Leona said firmly, “you should catch a ride while you can. It’s much more pleasant than taking the Greyhound.”

“But that makes no difference. Really—it doesn’t,” Rebecca protested.

“It’s been long enough.” Leona was firm in her decision. “I can’t remember the other seven recoveries being quite this long—the tiredness. But then, I’m getting old and forgetful already. People will start talking soon enough, if I keep my
maut
forever.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Rebecca said.

“You might not be, but I am,” Leona assured her. “And what about your John? I never saw you write to him. Did you? Or call? You should at least have done that. The furniture store has a phone. I’m sure he’s worried.”

Rebecca wondered how much she should confide in her aunt. “Well, to tell you the truth, I was working through some things about John and me while I’ve been here. And now everything’s fine. I’ll see him very soon.” Wanting that conversation to end, Rebecca turned to her duties. “What should I do now to help you? Wash diapers? I see Jonathon has been busy as usual.”

Deep down she was a little surprised at how very glad she was to be going home tomorrow. Not that she would admit this in front of Leona, but she was really looking forward to seeing John again.

“Yeah, diapers…” Leona was saying, “I’m beginning to see them in my sleep.”

“Hopefully washed and hanging on the line.” Rebecca made a face.

“The other option is not a vision one wishes to dwell on,” groaned Leona. “Start the wash though, and I’ll help.”

“You sure you can?” Rebecca asked.

“I helped on Tuesday, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but—”

“You’re being too soft on me—really.” Leona gave Rebecca a firm look. “Start the first load.”

“And we need to make bread today, don’t we?” Rebecca remembered seeing the low supply yesterday.

“We still have enough for today,” Leona said. “I’ll bake some tomorrow. Your last day here shouldn’t be completely full. You’ll have nothing but unpleasant memories.”

“No I won’t.” Now Rebecca was being firm. “I’ll bake bread today. I couldn’t leave with that on my conscience. No good
maut
would do that.”

“You’re a good
maut,
” Leona assured her. “I wouldn’t know what I would have done without you.”

“Then I’d better get busy,” Rebecca said, gathering up a full load from the closest hamper of diapers.

“Did Emma say anything about her health?”

“No, she looked okay. Why? Is she having problems?”

Leona nodded. “She saw a doctor about her heart. They put in stents, but the doctors don’t know exactly what’s wrong.”

“Surely not?” Rebecca’s face registered her sadness at this news.

“Our time comes when the Lord wills it,” Leona told her, noticing. “We just have to be ready.”

As Rebecca headed to the garage, Leona said, “Let me know when the wash is ready to hang on the line. I need some fresh air.”

“Okay,” Rebecca called back, as she made her way to the garage.

As she pulled the starter rope, the motor sputtered for a moment and then finally caught. Against the background of its noise, she let her thoughts go to Emma and her sickness. Surely Emma was not passing soon? Yet that was possible. Finding comfort in the fact that she had been able to pay a visit, Rebecca was grateful for the opportunity.

When she went back inside, Leona was already working on the bread.

“I’ve decided on two batches,” Leona said, “so it will last us awhile.”

“Let’s make three batches then—because it’s my last day,” Rebecca volunteered.

“I thought of that.” Leona looked sheepish again. “Mean of me, I know. Trying to get all the help out of the
maut
I can—I know. Sorry.”

“Quit complaining,” Rebecca said. Then, thinking that some fresh air might be just what her aunt needed, she said, “The wash is ready for the line. It’s a nice day. Might be good for you.”

“I do need something,” Leona agreed with a sigh, her eyes on the bowls spread on the kitchen table. “Okay, I’ve started the yeast. The liquid mixture is ready as soon as it cools down. You can then start adding the flour. The bread pans are in the second drawer over there.” Leona motioned, then added, “Here I am prattling on with instructions as if your mother never trained you at all.”

“Bread making is still a little scary,” Rebecca said, “even after all the many times I’ve made it. Does it get any easier as you get older?” she asked.

“Yes, it does.” Leona’s eyes glanced around the kitchen as she
prepared to leave and hang the wash on the line. “Took time for me too. But everything done often enough eventually becomes familiar—I guess. Getting married helped too,” she added. “That adds plenty of responsibilities.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Rebecca said quickly because—still somewhat to her own surprise—she was.

“I’m going to have to go over to see Emma myself sometime,” Leona said with a smile. “She was good for you. She told you the right thing.”

“How do you know what she told me?” Rebecca asked a little skeptically.

“I can see it on your face,” Leona said, the smile still playing on her own face. “I would say you have found your answer—and it is good.”

“Yes, I think I have,” Rebecca admitted.

When the door of the garage shut, Rebecca allowed her thoughts to go where she didn’t dare with Leona in the kitchen, for fear her face would turn red. She allowed the memory of John’s eyes to come back, the longing she had seen in them. She remembered the gentle trickling of the running water under the bridge that Sunday, the wind blowing in the bare branches above them, the slight winter sunshine reaching them, the feelings she had felt when he asked whether she would always be his.

I said yes,
she told herself, almost saying it out loud again because it brought her such pleasure. She was thrilled to discover that this pleasure was back, that she had found the answer to God’s will for her.
Atlee had been a wonderful boy,
she told herself,
but we were young then, and our love was a young love—a first love—but now I am an adult with an adult love to fill my heart.

She bowed her head right then and there, tears of joy forming in her eyes, and thanked God for the gift of John’s love. Her experience with Atlee had been what it was, and she would never call it wrong, but it was now part of her past. John was her future.

Thankfulness for Emma and her wisdom also filled her heart. Also for her mother and Leona, for all the help they were willing and able to give her. She was surrounded with so many wise counselors, who wouldn’t let her down as she and John started their new life together. God was more than good to them.

She looked down at the liquid mix in front of her, finding it to be the temperature she wanted. Dumping the contents into a larger bowl, she gradually stirred in the flour till the consistency was just right.

This was the art—her mother had told her many times—to find the right texture of the dough. This art couldn’t be taught from books. It had to be experienced, to be felt with one’s fingertips, to be watched and observed until the knowledge came full and certain. Only then could one make excellent bread. Bread that came out of the pan fluffy and light, that sliced well under the knife, that fully delighted those who ate it.

She gently stirred in the flour and then divided the dough into the right sizes for the pans. After shaping each loaf, she left them to rise on the kitchen table. No noise came from the bedroom where Jonathon was sleeping, even when Leona came in from hanging her load of diapers on the line.

“Whee!” Leona exclaimed. “That did me good. Jonathon’s not awake yet?”

“Nope,” Rebecca said, placing the last of the bread dough in a pan, glad to see that Leona’s mood had improved.

They took turns baking and doing the laundry—as one went to the washing machine, the other went to the kitchen. They kept this up until lunch. Leona was in the kitchen when the time came to make the sandwiches. As Rebecca came in from the garage, Leona hollered out the door for Leroy and James, bringing the two boys on the run.

“We were getting real hungry,” they said, panting.

“Your mom has sandwiches ready,” Rebecca said. “Sit down at the table.”

They were more than willing and seemed to finish their sandwiches before Leona and Rebecca could barely get started.

“Children,” Leona warned, “haste with food goes away with maturity.”

“I must be maturing then,” Rebecca said, knowing it was true, but not sure if she quite liked the adult feeling it gave her.

Leona only nodded, distracted by the bawling of baby Jonathon in the bedroom. “There you go,” she said dryly, getting up and leaving her half-finished sandwich. “That brings maturity too.”

After their final bite, Rebecca said, “It’s time for your naps.” They both looked like they were ready to bolt outdoors again. Rebecca’s words elicited groans, but they obediently complied, shuffling toward their bedrooms.

With them gone and Leona with baby Jonathon, Rebecca went through her list of things to do. She came to the conclusion that there would be little time left in the day to accomplish it all. Leona would certainly see to it that she had plenty of time to pack, but from the looks of things, there wouldn’t be time to prepare a large supper. She wished she could have because it was her last night here.

Soon I’ll be home,
she mused. Thinking of John again, glad that things were right between them, that her promise to marry him had been the right thing to do, that Atlee was an appropriate thing of the past.

She was looking forward to tomorrow, the ride home in the van, and above all glad that she was glad.

Hearing footsteps behind her, Rebecca turned to see Leona.

“You’ll be gone tomorrow,” Leona stated simply. “Home to John, right?” A smile played on her face.

Caught up in the emotion, Rebecca said, “To tell John I love him.” Blushing deeply at the sound of her own words, she wished she hadn’t said them in Leona’s hearing.

“It is good,” Leona replied, not seeming to mind. Her face now solemn, she declared, “
Da Hah
has no doubt willed it.”