Rebecca's Rose (17 page)

“I could drive the car up to the front door here and unload them quick.”

“I will help you fetch them. Linda and Max will never believe you are a gute Amish boy if you drive a car.”

Levi pointed to his outfit. “Look at me,” he said. “Even I’m starting to believe I’m Amish.”

Rebecca handed Levi a glass of water. Sweat poured from his face as he gulped the ice-cold liquid like a man in the desert. His clothes were still damp from the power spraying, and the late afternoon sun beat down on his hatless head.

He drained the glass and gasped for air. “Okay, I thought lifting weights was hard, but splitting logs is like the best workout ever.”

“I think you have chopped up a whole winter’s supply,” Rebecca said.

“Gute,” Levi said. “Then maybe you won’t have to chop another log until spring.”

“You said ‘gute.’”

Levi grinned and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Jah, I can speak the local language when I want to.”

“You spend a lot of time with the Amish. You dress Amish. Now you are speaking with the accent. Aren’t you afraid you will turn Amish?”

He pasted on a peculiar expression and winked at her. “Nae, I’m not afraid of that.”

She loved the way her insides curled when he looked at her.

No, no, she didn’t. That sort of thing was romantic rot for the wide-eyed teenagers at the gatherings.

“I loved being Amish,” he said. “I remember the ice-skating in the winter and the fishing in summertime. We knew how to have fun.” He got a faraway look in his eyes before snapping back to the present. “How did the apricots go?”

“Six dozen quarts and little left over for jam tomorrow. Mamm helped. And Linda, a little.”

Levi chuckled. “Linda is a gute helper.”

“Thank you for bringing the apricots. They will be nice to have this winter.”

“I hope so.” Levi’s face darkened. “I wish I could do more for you.”

“Do not say that. I cannot believe what you have done already.”

Levi shook his head. “You’re half starving out here.”

Rebecca took a step back and hardened her face against him. “I know I am full of faults, but I think I manage very well.”

“Well? You’re a miracle worker, Rebecca.”

“Then why do you criticize?”

Levi hung his head. “I’m sorry if it sounds like I am finding fault with you. I would never, never do that.”

“Jah, okay,” Rebecca said. How could she think Levi was like Fater?

“I care about you. I hate that your life is so hard.”

“Life is hard, no matter whose life you are living. But life is gute also. Life is work because work sustains life. And we have many reasons to be happy. Look at that barn. Freshly scrubbed and ready to be painted. What could be better than that?”

Levi handed Rebecca the empty glass. “Getting a glass of water and a smile from Rebecca Miller. That’s the best thing to happen to me all day.”

“Ach, you are a manure expert, Levi Cooper. You spread flattery like our bishop gives out handshakes.”

He held out his hands in surrender. “How will I convince you that every word is true?”

“You won’t.”

“I guess I’ll keep trying, kid.”

“You are wasting your efforts, Bub.”

“Bub. The fat guy who sits on the bench outside the drugstore and smokes three packs a day. I like it.” He put an arm around her shoulder.

She pushed him away playfully.

Levi wiped his hands on his trousers. “Now that the wood’s done, I’m hungry. How about Chinese tonight?”

“I’ve never had it.”

“Oh, kid, you’re in for a treat.”

Levi snatched his keys from the dresser and practically sprinted down the hallway.

Mom, in her scrubs, stood in the closet-sized kitchen looking into the fridge.

“See ya, Mom. I’m going to the bicycle shop.”

“Wait, wait!” Mom practically yelled. “What time do you have to be there?”

“I can be there anytime I want. The sooner I get there, the more bikes I can fix.”

“Have you eaten?”

Levi jangled his keys. “No, I’ll grab a bite when I get home.”

“Let me fix you something before you go.”

“No, Mom. Really, I’m fine.”

“Give me ten minutes. I’ll make you a quesadilla.”

“I’m okay.”

“It won’t hurt you to sit down and eat before you shrink to nothing and blow away.”

Levi looked down at himself. “Do I look like I’ve lost weight?”

“No, but I’m not taking any chances. I haven’t made you dinner for weeks.”

“We had dinner together on Sunday.”

Mom shook her head. “Not counting Sundays.”

Levi looked at his phone. He could spare a few minutes for Mom. He pulled a stool from under the counter and sat in silent acquiescence.

Mom opened a cupboard and clattered a few pans around before finding the skillet she was looking for. She thumped it on top of the stove and went to the fridge for tortillas and cheese.

“Do you want help?”

“No, relax. I don’t think you’ve sat for more than five minutes this week.”

“Neither have you.”

Mom glanced at Levi and shook her head. “I get enough leisure. You’re like the Energizer Bunny.”

Levi loved to watch his mom cook. She grated and chopped and sautéed as if second nature. Her movements were like a musician conducting an orchestra. Soon the smell of onions and peppers and fried ham permeated the small apartment. Levi breathed deeply and let his mouth water in anticipation.

“Do you want pepper jack?” Mom said.

“Yeah, that’s great.”

“Are you working late tonight?”

“Probably. Lots of broken bikes.”

Mom turned the tortilla on the skillet and sprinkled white and orange cheese over it. “You work tomorrow?”

“I took the day off. I’m going to Wisconsin Dells with some friends.”

“And that girl? Beth says you’re dating someone.”

Levi’s “danger” alert perked up. “What did she tell you?”

Mom looked up from her culinary creation and smiled. “No need to panic. She said you broke up with Tara. Says it’s a nice girl this time.”

He breathed a little easier. “That Beth is such a blabbermouth.”

“It’s not like I wouldn’t have figured it out on my own. You’ve got so much spring in your step, you could bounce to the moon and back.”

Levi stifled a grin by wiping his hand across his mouth. “That’s crazy talk, Mom.”

“What’s her name?”

“Rebecca.”

“Where did you meet her?”

“She, uh, she came into the store.”

Mom scraped the onions and peppers from the pan into the quesadilla and folded it in half. With one quick flick of her spatula, she slid the quesadilla onto a plate and plopped it in front of Levi.

“Thanks, Mom.”

She handed him a fork and watched him eat. “And?”

“What?” he said, sticking the first bite into his mouth.

“And, what about the girl?”

“She’s really nice and really pretty.” Levi concentrated very hard on cutting his quesadilla. In dread, he knew these pitiful bits of information were not going to fly with Mom.

In a moment she seemed to lose her intensity. She sighed, found the dishrag, and wiped around the stove. “I’ve never seen so much hemming and hawing in my life,” she said.

“There’s not much to tell, Mom.”

Mom picked up the skillet and used it as a pointer. “Oh, there is a book of details you’re not sharing.”

“More like a pamphlet.”

“I doubt it.”

He held up a piece of quesadilla. “This is really good.”

“Will I get to meet her sometime?”

“Come on, Mom. I gotta go to work.”

“Okay, okay. But don’t think you’ll be able to avoid the subject forever. I’m persistent. My mamma used to call me ‘The Bull.’” A shadow fell across her face then disappeared.

“You miss her.”

“Of course. But she writes, and Barbara writes.”

“It’s not the same,” Levi said.

“No. Not the same.”

Levi hesitated with the question on his lips he’d been wanting to ask. “Do you wish you could go back?”

The question took her by surprise. “Why do you ask?”

“Do you?”

Mom leaned her elbows on the counter and stared at him. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah, it does.”

She sighed and surrendered to his probing. “I wish it every day. When your dat died, I was lonely. Brent was so good to me. I knew he would take care of you children. But I could never quite fit into his world. Remember when we moved to Chicago for, what was it, three months?”

Levi nodded.

“I had a major breakdown. I begged him to move us back.”

“To be close to your family, even if they shunned you?”

“That and because I couldn’t stand the big city. Too many people, too many buildings, no friends or neighbors. Everyone impersonal and indifferent. Brent was mad, but he moved us back.” Mom poured Levi a glass of milk. “It’s my fault he left.”

“That’s not true, Mom. He’s a jerk, plain and simple.”

“He got frustrated with me. I wallowed in self-pity, and it wore him down. He left because he couldn’t live with me anymore.”

“He gave up on us, Mom. It wasn’t your fault.”

She reached over and patted his arm. “No pancake is so thin that it doesn’t have two sides, Levi.”

“So would you go back to being Amish? If you could?”

“How could I do that to you and Beth? To ask you to live that life?”

“As I remember, it was a pretty good life,” Levi said.

“Not after cell phones and cars and computers.”

“Beth is going to school. She doesn’t have to be baptized. She doesn’t even have to live that way, but she could visit all the time.”

Mom got a strange look on her face. “And what about you?”

Levi lowered his head and looked at his hands. “I could live there with you. I wouldn’t mind.”

Mom stared at him for an eternity before sighing plaintively and clearing his plate from the counter. “It would never work. You two are my most important family. I wouldn’t do anything that would separate us.”

Levi didn’t attempt to convince her of an idea that had only been passing through that Swiss-cheese brain of his. Rebecca had completely overtaken any reason or judgment he once had, and the thought of being with her had obviously overruled his common sense.

Me, live among the Amish? Mom’s right. It would never work.

Levi handed Rebecca her ticket. “They’ll take this and give you a wristband,” he told her as they waited in line with what seemed like a million other people. A burly guy in front of him must have been jostled the wrong way because he turned to Levi and scowled.

“Watch it,” he said.

Levi glared back at him, and the man backed off. The crowds, the impersonal treatment, were the things Levi never got used to after his mom pulled him from his one-room schoolhouse in Apple Lake and enrolled him in public school. He hadn’t spoken English well, and the kids made fun of him. That year he got into a lot of fights. The loneliness he’d felt as a small boy, amid kids who couldn’t care less about him, was palpable—kind of how he felt surrounded by hundreds of people trying to get ahead of someone else into the amusement park. Good thing he had Rebecca next to him. He needed her presence more than she could possibly need his.

Levi heard Rebecca’s breathing quicken as she caught sight of the roller coaster looming over the park entrance.

He took her hand. “You don’t have to ride any ride you don’t want to.”

She didn’t dignify his statement with a response, just kept her eyes glued to the monster thrill ride. Screams from riders pierced the air. Rebecca held her breath.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Rebecca, we don’t even have to go in.” Levi would have turned around and marched back home without a second thought.

“Ach, Levi, stop it. You already know what I am going to say.”

After fifteen minutes of bumping against people in line in the hot sun, they finally made it into the park. Taking a deep breath, Rebecca examined her map. “Where should we start?” she said, trying to sound thrilled but only managing to sound desperate.

Levi took her hand and pulled her in the opposite direction Jason and Tara were headed. “You can go for the big stuff first or do something smaller and work up to the scarier rides.”

“Let’s work our way up,” she said.

“Then we should go to the indoor park first. You know”—he nudged her with his elbow—“to the kiddie rides.”

Rebecca didn’t even make a face. “I love kiddie rides. And let go of my hand. It is not proper in public.”

Levi rolled his eyes but let go of her hand…reluctantly. The feel of her skin sent him to the clouds.

He cheerfully led her to the huge indoor space that echoed with loud voices. Tara wouldn’t be found anywhere near here.

“Okay,” said Levi. “You’re too big for the ball pit, so the next wimpiest thing is probably the tea cups.”

Rebecca looked in the direction he pointed. “That looks like fun,” she lied.

Levi helped Rebecca into a bright yellow teacup. The average age of a teacup rider was probably eight years old, but Rebecca didn’t notice. She sat rigidly with her hands wrapped tightly around the wheel in the center and took deep, cleansing breaths. Levi didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. She was so cute in her determination to scare herself silly, but he couldn’t stand to see her in distress. It was going to be a very long day.

The teacups rotated, slowly at first, and then at a speed that pushed Rebecca close to him with the centrifugal force. He liked her closeness but not the miserable look on her face as the teacups whizzed past each other at blurry-eyed speed.

Once everything stopped spinning, Levi took Rebecca’s hand as she weaved her way off the ride. They sat on a bench, and she buried her head in her hands.

“That was terrible,” she groaned. “Not scary, but sickening.”

Levi brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “We can go home if you want.”

She mumbled into her hands. “No, this is fun.”

Levi couldn’t help laughing. She was adorable.

Rebecca snapped her head up. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“Oh, weren’t you making a joke?”